#fuck if you really have to listen to music on your balcony/patio

[smute]

its hot. my windows are open. two people just started blasting music from their balconies.

yes, it's saturday. yes, it's student housing. but i'm trying to work and this shit is driving me NUTS.

like even if i wanted to, i cant even enjoy the music because both speakers are equally loud lmao. idk if maybe one of them is trying to drown out the other but i am literally stuck in the middle

[thunderheadfred]

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

[casuallyimagining]

I Meant What I Said

Jeon Jungkook x Ace!Reader

Summary: For Jungkook, the scariest thing about this Halloween is thinking you’re mad at him. Notes: This was very self-indulgent, but I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while. Hope you enjoy. This is part of the Long Term Couples series.  Read more here

The party was loud--almost too loud. Jungkook could barely think. His eyes scanned the bodies in the room. People were dancing, their costumes all matching the theme—the 1980s—and looking like Boy George himself had vomited neon and bad hairstyles all over everyone. In the far corner, someone dressed as an ‘80s home workout coach--Hoseok-hyung, his brain barely registered--was surrounded by people hanging on his every word. Not seeing what he was looking for, Jungkook began to wander.

He was mad at himself, but he wasn’t sure why. He knew he said something wrong, something that had made his best friend disappear. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what that something was. Jungkook had even relayed the conversation to Jimin and Taehyung when they arrived at the party, but they either couldn’t or wouldn’t help him. So he was forced to wander through the sea of costumed bodies alone, searching for you.

“Your costume looks amazing. It would look better on my floor.” 

Jungkook replayed the brief conversation in his mind as he looked. You were dressed as Cyndi Lauper. It shouldn’t be this hard to find you.

He sighed. It was a joke, he thought you understood that. Looking back, though, he should have known that when your smile stopped meeting your eyes, you didn’t see it as a joke. Was it his tone? Admittedly, he was shamelessly flirting with you, but in his defense, you had never taken offence to his flirting before.

After years of friendship, he had finally gathered up the courage to ask you out a few months ago. If anyone asked you, you would probably say Jungkook had drunkenly confessed to you one early morning and you had humored him. He just hadn’t left your side since. You were his best friend and his most determined supporter. Jungkook had thought the relationship was going well--nothing much had changed between the friendship and the romance--and it killed him to think that maybe he had ruined everything with a stupid joke.

As Jungkook approached the door to the balcony, he heard Jin’s squeaky laugh. He peaked out and saw you and Jin sitting on a bench, drinks in your hands. For a moment, he paused in the doorway, unsure if he should approach you.

Just as he was about to turn away, you noticed him standing there. A small smile played at the corner of your lips, and Jungkook couldn’t help but return it. Jin stood, then, and after making some excuse about having to find Namjoon, he hugged you tightly and slipped back inside.

It was quiet out on the balcony with the eldest member gone. The late October air was chilly, and Jungkook was glad that he had chosen a lazy Freddy Krueger costume--the oversized sweater, though itchy, kept him warm. Silently, he found himself drifting towards the railing of the balcony. As much as he wanted to talk to you, he thought better of it.

What if you were still mad at him?

The property Bang PD had rented for the party was gorgeous. The trees were lit up with purple and orange spotlights, casting long shadows on the lawn below. Pumpkins--some carved, some not--littered the patio below the balcony. Close-by, someone had constructed some sort of spooky maze in the foliage.

After a moment, he felt you gently brush against his shoulder as you leaned against the railing beside him. You sighed, and he watched you rub the side of your nose out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the trees.

You froze, your hand still under your eye. “What?”

“I’m not entirely sure what I did, but you’re mad at me, and I’m sorry.”

He turned to look at you then. Your face was full of confusion as your eyes scanned his features, focus flitting back and forth between his eyes. Eventually, you found what you were looking for--though what that was, Jungkook had no idea--and your eyes met his own. You mumbled a soft “Oh, Jungkook,” before turning your head away to look down at the cup in your hands.

You leaned even more into the balcony railing as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. He could practically see the gears turning in your head, could see the thoughts pop into and out of existence, could see the war you were waging with yourself in your mind.

“I need you to know that this isn’t your fault,” you said finally, refusing to look at him. Your voice was steady and without emotion, almost as if you’d practiced what you wanted to say. “And I also need you to know that I didn’t intend for this conversation to happen like this. I should have told you this a long time ago.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to be confused. He had no idea what you were talking about. Were you cheating on him? Did you not want to be in a relationship with him? Were you living some sort of double life? Luckily for him, you only took a moment to collect your thoughts before continuing.

“I don’t want this to ruin things,” you said carefully, picking at your nails. It was one of your nervous habits, and normally, he found it endearing. But right now, he was just nervous. “But I’m also not an idiot. I understand if it does.”

“Does…?”

“Ruin things. If you don’t want to do this anymore, I’ll understand.”

“Jagi, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jungkook reached out and smoothed the side of your hair that wasn’t teased to hell and back. He felt you tense under his touch. It was so brief, he thought maybe he imagined it, but the look on your face made it clear that he didn’t. You sighed as he retracted his hand.

“I’m asexual.” Your tone was methodical. If someone had just been listening to the conversation, they might even have mistaken it for casual. But Jungkook could see the way you blink a little faster, the way your eyes darted in the opposite direction of him, the way your arms wrapped around yourself. This was not the first time you’d had this conversation. Or, maybe it was, and you cared more about his opinion than you’d care to admit.

You continued before he could respond. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I didn’t want to make it seem like I’m leading you on, y’know? I mean, we’ve been friends for years now and like… you’ve told me about your other girlfriends and… everything… and I-I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about us. About me.”

“Jagi-”

“So, I mean, I understand if you want to go back to just being friends. I get it. I’ll be okay.” You nodded, and Jungkook could tell you were trying to convince yourself more than him. Suddenly, you were very interested in the empty cup in your hands. “I should go get a drink.”

You moved to brush past him, but he caught your wrist and you froze. He said your name gently, but there was a firmness to it that kept you in place, even when he pulled his hand away from your arm. You stood there in silence for what felt like eons. He watched you avoid his gaze.

Jungkook sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” He spoke softly, trying his best not to set you off into another panic-induced ramble.

“It didn’t matter. And then it did. And the more I put it off, the harder it got.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheekbone. You could feel his gaze on you. When your eyes finally met his, you could see the emotion in them.

“You thought... what? That I’d leave?” You shrugged, chewing on your lip nervously. He sighed again. “Jagi, I don’t care if you don’t want to have sex with me.”

A look of confusion crossed your face. “You… don’t?”

“I mean, I do.” He could feel his face heating up. “But not if you don’t want to. Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

For a moment, the sparkle came back to your eyes and Jungkook could feel his heart soar. But then you frowned again.

“What if you change your mind?” It was more of a statement than a question, and a small piece of him broke as he realized that maybe you weren’t used to being loved like that. Maybe you weren’t used to someone understanding. A small piece of him wanted to rage against society, to burn it all to the ground, if it would help you feel better.

“Then we’ll talk about it like adults.” He pulled you to him suddenly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Fuck fucking. I’ve loved you for so long, I just want to be with you.” Your hands froze on his waist at his confession, but he only squeezed you tighter. “Maybe I will change my mind. In a year, five years, whatever. But we’ll talk about it. Fuck, we’ll get therapy if we have to.”

He fell silent, then, but continued to hold you to him. After a moment of quiet, he felt you relax. Your arms snaked slowly around his waist. And while it was clear to him you were still a little conflicted, you had opened up to him. And that was a start.

“Jesus, jagi. I thought you were mad at me,” he breathed. He felt you shake your head against him before burying your face into his neck.

As the silence enveloped the two of you again, Jungkook’s mind wandered. The music was so loud inside, it was amazing how quiet it was on the balcony, even with the door open. Slowly, he started to sway your bodies to the beat of the song, some American pop number he recognized but didn’t really know. One of his hands found its way into your hair, the other rubbed lazy circles into your back.

“I hope you know you can trust me,” he whispered into your hair. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I know we’re dating, but you’re my best friend first.”

You squeezed him around the middle in acknowledgement. Jungkook leaned back, holding you at arms’ length so he could look at your face. Your hands balled in the hem of his sweater that hung loosely around his waist. Your eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and you looked happy—genuinely happy. He smiled gently.

“I meant what I said. I love you, jagi.”

Your breath audibly caught in your throat. For a moment, Jungkook was disappointed you didn’t respond to him in kind. But looking closer, he saw the depth in your eyes, felt your hands grip his sweater tighter. Maybe you weren’t ready to say it yet, but Jungkook could feel it.

Read more of the series here

[hookedonapirate]

Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

Stay tuned for more...

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[writingandsins]

HC of your Modern AU RDR2 Husband while in Covid-19 quarantine.

A/N: This took a long as time lol Ihope you like it though

Arthur

Luckily for you, the two of you live in a semi rual area. You live in a beautiful home with a few acres.

Super resourceful and only makes sure to get what you both need. He probably is the only one who makes trips to the store because he values your health over his.

But if you want snacks or anything non essential, he still gets it because he can’t say no to you.

Loves doing DIY project with you, keeps his hands busy and he loves the memories you guys make together.

When he does have to work from home, he still makes sure that you are doing okay and that you don’t miss him.

You guys cook together and it’s so fucking cute. You also love it when his face lights up when you bring him lunch on his work days.

He tolerates face mask night but eventually enjoys the results he’s getting.

Daily nature walks on the property.

Scenic drives with good music and holding hands. You love watching him drive because he just looks so fucking sexy doing it.

DATE NIGHTS. He’s such a romantic at heart, he’ll get dressed up with you and make sure to set the mood with candles and soft music.

Sex pretty much everyday because to be honest, that man is an animal for you. You two have pretty much fucked on every surface in your home.

If you guys have a porch or balcony, the two of you will spend a lot of time together there during the mornings or evenings, just being close.

When the gang has video chat nights, it’s always fun and filled with laughter and pointless bickering. Arthur gets tired of it pretty quick and always thinks of some excuse to leave.

Overall, Arthur will always make sure you feel safe and comfortable during this time.

Charles

So if you thought Arthur was resourceful, Charles is on another level. Never takes more than what you guys need, he also is the one who insists on making those trips to the store to protect you.

You guys live more rually so food is abundant in your gardens and he has a fridge full of venison and game meats. Going hungry is not an option.

Lots of home improvement projects.

Puzzle nights are a huge hit for you both and you can usually finish a smaller one in a couple of hours.

Fire place snuggles and movie nights.

Charles does not mind the face masks or hair treatments you put him through. He loves the attention.

Lots of home cooked meals, that boy can COOK and he’s always doing something different.

Charles hates weekly video chat nights with the gang. But you smile happily when he calls Arthur or John to see how they’re doing.

Date nights consist of slow dancing and old b movies. (And lots of sex.)

Charles is also an animal for you, you guys have sex at least twice a day, if not more.

Charles is a man who can craft and build, he surprises you with a beautiful, handmade gift just because he loves you. You cry a lot.

Charles is the perfect person to get quarantined with.

John

Music is constantly playing in the Marston home. Like, all the fucking time.

LOTS of deep cleaning to catch up on. With random dance sessions in the living room to take a break.

Despite his attitude at times, he likes to stay healthy and tries to cook at home for you, but sometimes you guys give in and order take out.

You plagiarize his phone with memes while he’s working in his office, just so you can hear him laugh from across the house.

When Jack comes over, Mario cart is a nightly tradition. You guys also have a DnD campaign that Jack game masters for.

You do face mask nights by yourself because John won’t do it lol. But he thinks it’s cute when you have green clay on your face. Calls you she-hulk.

John is very protective and won’t let you go to the store, he’d rather do it. If you make a big fuss, you better believe you’re wearing a face mask, gloves, hoodie, and pesters you to wash your hands.

Date nights are playing video games, movies, staying up late and cuddles.

You guys get a little more adventurous in the bedroom since you guys are at home a lot, John is a freak in the sheets and you’ve never thought you’d have so much sex in your LIFE.

Long drives just listening to music.

He enjoys the weekly gang talks but sometimes Dutch gets a little much and he has to leave. You usually find some clever reason for him.

You guys try to learn a new skill together and it’s so cute.

John does some home improvement but he needs a lot of help from Charles or Arthur.

John is a fun and sweet husband, he takes care of you and Jack and makes sure you are never bored.

Javier

Javier will make sure you are cared and provided for. He also knows to have a good time.

He’s always has been clean and well kept, so your home doesn’t need that much done to it.

You are constantly blessed with his amazing, home made Mexican cuisine. 👌🏻 All thanks to his Abuela.

Date nights are filled with music and drinking, he plays and sings for you in your beautiful backyard patio. You practically melt when he sings your favorite love song.

He’s also really fun to do DIY projects with.

Like Charles and Arthur, he’ll do face masks with you and for once he lets you do a home treatment to his glorious hair.

He does get stir crazy and needs to get out, luckily you guys have found a trail that no one really knows about for some nature hikes.

INCREDIBLE SEX 24/7. You guys try role playing and it’s sexy and funny.

Javier is very respectful when you work but he always makes sure you have water and snacks.

He loves the weekly gang chats, you guys miss your friends and it feels good to catch up on everyone.

All in all, you wouldn’t want to be trapped in the house with anyone else.

Sean

Uh oh. You’re stuck in the house with the biggest HORN DOG.

Weirdly enough, Sean does his best to keep the house clean.

He does take the virus serious despite his care free attitude, he gets all the groceries through post mates.

You guys also order take out way too often.

Sean will let you put a face mask on him as long as you sit in his lap while you do it. 

When you need a break from him, you plop him in front of the tv with his favorite game and he’ll be good for hours. Listening to him rage is the funniest thing in the world.

He does bitch a lot about being quarantined, you just pretend to listen.

He is the LIFE of the weekly gang video chats, he misses everyone so much.

Sean isn’t one for making date nights happen but he does make sure to compliment you a lot, even when you are wearing your pajamas for the third day in a row with now makeup.

He does however, when he is up for it, he makes you dress up, makes you a fine meal and then seduces you. Sex with Sean is always hot, the kinky bastard.

You guys do a lot of the social media at homes challenges and it’s hilarious. He shares it to the group chat all the time. Tik Tok is his new obsession. Arthur hates it.

Despite not going anywhere, he still loves doing instagrams OOTD with you and you guys put together cute as hell outfits.

Watching bad TV and getting drunk on lazy days.

Sean is still fun and spontaneous in quarantine.

Josiah

Your husband is a massive gemaphobe and won’t leave the house lol.

But he makes sure to still entertain you and make sure you are cared for.

You guys have a more luxurious life and you are very previlaged to have such a beautiful home.

Classical or Opera music plays quietly at all times to keep things lively.

You guys have a beautiful backyard that you tend to on your days off. In the evenings, you usually have dinner on the patio.

Josiah takes this time to catch up on some reading, you love it when he reads to you and so you have many fun filled evenings of him acting out parts of the book.

He does try to plan for next years vacation because lord knows you need one after this pandemic.

Date nights include dressing up, champagne that was saved from last year, and black and white movies.

Josiah loves to start the day with making love to you, it puts you both in a better mood.

You also have never seen him so dressed down before, but he never wears just sweats and a shirt.

Josiah sometimes joins in on the Weekly gang night video chats but he never stays for long.

He has always done face masks, even before you, so it’s a weekly tradition for you both.

Quarantine with Josiah is safe and comfortable, nothing much has changed except you can’t leave the house.

[saylors-universe]

All Hands on Deck, two

Rowaelin cruise ship vacation AU

Masterlist here

word count: 5193

[ Warnings: Explicatory language, references to drugs/alcohol, etc.]

[This is an interactive story! I will include certain Authorʻs Notes throughout the chapters to inform you when to start a particular song that you can find here in the All Hands on Deck playlist (Also can be found on the masterlist). For the best experience, listen with headphones, AND FOLLOW ALONG WITH THE STORY. Please try to use your imagination when listening and reading - live through the words. Have fun :) - Saylor]

[A.N.]- Heads up, this is a pretty long one. I had a lot of fun writing it and hopefully you guys enjoy it.

...

DAY 1 - WENDLYN PORT - “Welcome all! Embarkment at 2:00 pm”

   Lysandra is going to kill her. That is if they don't die in a fatal crash on their way to the docks. Aelin yanks down the passenger seat visor, flipping open the mirror compartment to find her puffy eyes matched with fresh, dark bags resting underneath. She unbuckles her seatbelt quickly to twist around, reaching behind in the backseat to grab her purse, stacked high up on her tower of suitcases. Digging through her purse, she fishes out a pair of dark, round sunglasses and covers the evidence of her late-night crying session. 

   “Ae- are you sure youʻre fine?” Aedion interrogates, taking his eyes off the road for a split second to scan her face, now hidden behind the obnoxiously large sunglasses. When he makes out her unusual, quiet demeanor, he drops his comforting presence, revealing a more terrifying and territorial anger. “I swear to God Iʻll kill him. The next time I see him, Iʻm bashing his face in.”

   “Please donʻt Aedion,” she murmurs, “I just need to get distracted for a little while. This trip will be good for me,” she prays, “I just need to forget.”

   Forget. Forget his chestnut locks, his deep brown eyes. Forget their morning runs and late night conversations. Forget the man who had been the first to pleasure her, to claim her innocence. Forget Chaol Westfall. Forget the cheating bastard who had broken her heart just two days prior. Forget the medical resident who had been having an affair with his attending, he had called her Yrene. She couldn't believe she was living an episode of Greys Anatomy, replaying Meredith Greys “pick me, choose me, love me” speech. He didnʻt. She knew they werenʻt right for each other, but still, she had hopes they would eventually work it out. Forget him. Eventually you will forget this pain. You will replace these memories with better, happier ones. It WILL get better. 

   Before Aedion could retort, Aelin answers a ringing call from a furious Lysandra. “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU ASHRYVERS”

“Good morning to you too”

“Oh Iʻm sorry, please do forgive my harsh tone. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU.”

“Weʻre nearly there babe,” Aedion butts in, “we had a ... late morning.” He looks over to his cousin, she catches a glimpse of the dashboard clock. 11:58 

“Are you guys okay? What happened?”

“Oh would you look at that, we just pulled in, be up there in a sec.” Aelin rushes out and hangs up abruptly. Exiting the car before Aedion fully parks in the stall. She takes in the vast, intimidating vessel - their home for the next three weeks. Fun.

   The two make a swift race of gathering together all their belongings, Aedion insisting on taking the more heavier bags - leaving Aelin to her bass guitar bag, a suitcase, and backpack. They proceeded to check in at the port center, showing their credentials and receiving their key cards. Then briskly went through security and began traveling up the ramp to the shipsʻ passenger entrance, closing right behind them. 

   As they enter the main lobby floor of the ship, Aelinʻs jaw drops to the floor in astonishment. To say the interior of the massive craft was “elegant” would be an understatement and a disservice. In the heart of the ship was a geniusly architectured ballroom, fit for the grandest of parties. A beautiful grand piano sat beneath the most gorgeous chandelier Aelin has ever seen, drowning the entire hall with warm light. She made sure to take mental notes and pictures to refer to the room for future dreams, or plans - this would be the perfect venue for a wedding ceremony.

“You coming Ace?” Aedion summons.

   Snapping back to reality, Aelin follows the blonde, muscular man carrying majority of their luggage to the lobbyʻs elevators. He examines their key cards - showing their rooms: 825 , 823 . Assuming their rooms would be on level 8, he invites Aelin to press the button for the eighth floor with one of her free hands. They trek the rest of journey in silence, until they reached their respective rooms, right across from each other. It seems someone had sticked colorful magnets of the alphabet, numbers, and symbols on their door, like the ones found on a familyʻs refrigerator. It was very clever, none of their phones would have service while out at sea, this provides a smart solution to know peopleʻs whereabouts when theyʻre out and where to locate them. It had to be the work of Elide Lochan. On one door, someone spelt out LYS + AEDION in vibrant magnets, the other ACE + MANON. Aelin peers around at neighboring rooms, but fails to find a similar door with the name ʻElideʻ spelt out in magnets. Weird. Surely Elide would have decorated her own door, if not only to personalize it, but also claim her territory. 

“Come get me once youʻre settled in? Weʻll go look for the others together.” her companion offers. 

   She nods in response before swiping her key card and entering room 823. It was a generously large cabin room with two queen sized beds, one fairly sized bathroom, and patio balcony. Seeing as the bed closest to the door was already occupied with bags, Manonʻs she assumed, she unloads her luggage on the bed nearest the sliding door balcony. In the bathroom stocked with all the necessary amenities, Aelin takes a quick look at herself in the vanity mirror. She lifts her large sunglasses atop her head, finally assessing the damage of her late night spent grieving her relationship. She was a mess, still beautiful, just drained. In hopes of reviving herself she splashes her face with some cold water, definitely waking her up. After taking a look around and getting situated she grabs her key card and leaves her cabin, takes the short trip across the narrow hallway and knocks on Aedionʻs door. There was some rustling behind the door, then Aedion opened up, revealing an identical room to her own. 

“All good?”

“Yep, you?”

“Yeah, letʻs go. Lys texted, said theyʻre scoping out the pool on the Lido deck.”

   They make their way to the Lido deck, finding it surprisingly crowded. The pool was massive and already occupied by a few passengers. The food bar near the pool, already had a line of hungry patrons patiently waiting for their burgers and fries. The elderly, kind looking chef at the grill and young, tawny curly haired chefʻs assistant both lock eyes with Aelin and offer a warm smile and welcoming wave as she and Aedion pass by. By some luck, they are reunited with their friends who were lounging on suntanning chairs on the deck.

“Hi baby!” Lysandra squeals as she runs into her boyfriends arms, who returns the passion just as fervently. “Hi, my love.”

“I missed you so much” “I missed you more”

   The interaction earned a not-so-subtle eye roll from the petulant Manon Blackbeak. “Spare us the lovey-dovey bullshit.” Which Lys returned by flipping the white-haired drummer off while pushing her tongue down Aedionʻs throat. Manon scoffs and then raises a hand to block her eyes from the blaring sun. Her very pale complexion already seemed tanned from the short time in the sun.

“Aelin!” Elide shouts, moving out of Lorcanʻs arms to embrace her friend, “you guys made it.”

Aelin returns Elideʻs hug as she meets her tan, dark-haired fianceʻs dour gaze. “Galanthynius”

Unlocking from her tender friendʻs clutch. “Salvaterre,” she returns, nodding her head once in recognition. 

“Did you guys find your rooms okay?” the brown eyed beauty continued.

“Yeah, we just dropped our stuff off.”

“Oh good. Okay, I talked with Dorian, the cruise director, and he showed me the music room we can use for practices. He said the performance stage is up there on the sky deck,” she points to a level right above the food bar, in perfect view of the pool, “itʻs across from the sport courts and thereʻs an open bar right over there”, pointing near the direction of the stage,”- so the plan right now is we only perform nights at sea. But we also switch off with the boys, so we wonʻt even need to worry about some nights,”

“The boys?”

“My guys,” Lorcan sneers.

“Lorcan Salvaterre? In a band?” Aelin mocks, and snickers.

“Iʻm full of surprises,” a response that manages to shut Aelin up pretty quickly. 

“Weʻve got tonight so you guys donʻt have to stress, but weʻll be out at sea tomorrow night as well so thatʻs all you guys,” Lorcan informs the women. He pulls Elide back and notifies her that he has to head off to his bandʻs practice for tonights show and that heʻll find her afterwards. They share a quick kiss that Aelin deeply regrets witnessing, and the broody giant saunters off to wherever the music room Elide mentioned was located, leaving the ladies and Aedion to investigate the gigantic portable hotel.

_______________________________________________

“Come on Whitethorn, you really need to live a little,” the white wolf incarnate, Fenrys Moonbeam, teases the bass player in tempts of sharing some embarkment/welcome drinks before their practice. 

“You know I donʻt do that stuff anymore,” itʻs true. Rowan had made sure to never touch or consume anything that would dampen his senses or thought process, not since Lyria. He would never be that stupid again, never recklessly waste away at the bottom of a bottle only to have his loving girlfriend take him home. Except she wouldnʻt make it home. And it was his fault, he has to live with the guilt of being alive, without her instead of her.

“Besides, I prefer being at my best for our shows,” he adds.

“And whoʻs to say Iʻm not”

“Fen, you can barely remember half our shows,”

“Damn, they must have been good.” 

   His twin and night to his day, Connal, finally joins the two in the music room set aside in the ships corner, to provide some semblance of privacy during their practice. “Lor here yet?”

“I havenʻt seen him since we checked in our rooms,” Rowan had really lucked out. Lorcan would be in a romantic suite with his fiance, the twins decided to share a room, so that left Rowan with his own private room, room 835 a nicely sized cabin in the corner of the hall, far enough away from everyone else but close enough to the elevators. 

Lorcan slips in the room shortly after Connal had, “speak of the fucking devil,” the mischievous blonde wolf pokes.

“Okay boys, night one, we have to impress,” Lorcan chips in.

“Iʻm thinking we do the set we did in Ardalan,” Connal pitched. The rest agree, preparing their instruments, Lorcan taking his seat at the drum set and the rest tuning their guitars for their respective roles, Rowan-bassist, Connal-lead guitarist, and Fenrys - rhythm guitarist & lead singer.

   After a couple clean run throughs, the boys departed to their rooms to prepare for the night. 

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

NIGHT 1 - AT SEA - “Live music from ʻThe Cadreʻ tonight at 7 pm on the Sky Deck”

   After the mandatory safety lecture and demonstrations on how to use the life vests provided in the cabinʻs closets and assigning the zones theyʻd report to in the case of an emergency, the Queenʻs Court + Aedion went around the whole ship, looking for a homebase to call their own and to meet everyday. They had decided on the food bar by the pool where the head chef, Emrys, and his assistant, Luca, merrily accepted them. Through getting acquainted, Aelin had learned that Luca was Emrys and his partner, Malakaiʻs, adopted son. She had also learned that they were from Terrasen like her. They quickly bonded over their shared experiences of growing up and life in Terrasen, the two culinary experts warmly welcomed her to their fold. 

“We better go get ready,” Elide had warned the group after finishing their amazing burger and fries made with love from their new friends. The squad quickly found their way to the elevators, Elide hopping off on the ninth floor, to Aelinʻs surprise. It must have shown on her face because Lys swiftly answered her minds wondering, “Lorcan and El got the better cabin suite, complimentary engagement gift from the cruise line.” To which she nodded in understanding.

   Upon returning to their cabin, Aelin collapses on her bed, still covered with her luggage. Manon notes the desperate fall and snickers, “You good Ace?” 

“No,” do I really want to unpack this all right now? - not referring to her clothes, “Chaol and I broke up. Well actually I found out he was cheating on me, and then we broke up.”

“Shit. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Good cuz I donʻt either.”

The insensitive banter coincidentally brought a smile to Aelinʻs face, “You asshole,” she calls and throws one of her bedʻs pillows at her now roommate. 

   Manonʻs lightning fast reflexes allowed her to catch the flying pillow without a second thought. “Look at where you are right now, weʻre on a fucking cruise ship with our best friends and weʻre being paid to do our favorite thing. Now if you donʻt lighten up, forget about that loser, and get your ass in a tiny, skimpy outfit then Iʻll fuck your brains out, make you fall in love with me and break your heart too. Any breakup heartbreak can be cured by a good oleʻ one night stand, and I normally donʻt do those kind of favors for bandmates so it looks like we are just going to have to find you some dick tonight ”

   Aelin knew she wasnʻt joking. When it really counts, Manon is always able to talk some sense and logic into Aelin, and tonight she would be grateful for it. So she did as the terrifyingly pretty, golden-eyed bisexual had commanded. Struggling as she slipped into a classic red, off the shoulder dress that hugged every curve of her sculpted body, barely passing her high-mid thigh. She curled loose waves in her long blonde hair, and applied a natural eye makeup look with a bold red lip. After studying this new woman in the mirror, she was reminded of how fucking hot she was, she felt stunning and daring, perhaps even more bold than her personality already permits. 

   Her roomie gave her a catcall whistle as she left the bathroom. Manon had prepared for the show with a sleek black halter top that exposed her defined midriff, and a criminally damning amount of cleavage, along with a tight black pencil skirt that also showed off her many curves. They were two dangerously attractive women, and they both knew it, which in a sense is even more deadly.

“Shall we?” Manon asks holding out an arm. Aelin takes it earnestly as the two strut their way to the Sky deck. 

   They manage to find Elide, Lysandra, and Aedion in the already massive crowd on the deck. Their group had really shown up tonight, they looked like they could be in a magazine catalogue, just a bunch of wildly attractive, and talented individuals. 

“You two made it just in time,” Elide greeted, taking them into their circle. 

   A disgustingly handsome, dark haired, tanned man with the most mesmerizing, sapphire eyes, took the stage. Aelin made sure to note Manon becoming suddenly stiff besides her as she took in the stranger on stage. “Howʻs everybody doing tonight,” he welcomes with an energetic, soothing voice. The crowd roars in anticipation. When the audience settles enough for him to be heard again he continues, “well Iʻm so very glad to hear that. We are so happy to have you guys here with us on the Ellywe Voyager, my name is Dorian, I am your cruise activities director, so you guys will be seeing lots of me,” he flashes an award-winning smile that causes at least twenty gasps from women in the audience. “Seeing as Ellywe will be all of our home for the next couple weeks, we ask that you be mindful of your living quarters and keep the noise down in consideration of your neighbors. In agreement, we have worked hard to organize not only one but two, awesome bands for you guys to jam out to in these live concerts throughout the weeks, how does that sound?” The crowd goes absolutely ballistic. This is the type of energy Aelin lives for, she could get used to this for the next few weeks. “I love to hear the sound of that, so without further ado, everyone please help me welcome The Cadre!”

[A.N.] - Start “What I Like About You (Live)” - 5SOS now, follow along, and let your imagination take you there. Find the playlist here.

The crowd screams in welcoming.

Crowd: “Whitethorn, Whitethorn, Whitethorn, Whitethorn, Whitethorn.”

Aelin: Whitethorn? What-

The music starts building and Lys scoots over to her bandmates, “Our competitions got quite the fanbase.”

“Yeah, letʻs see if theyʻre any good,” Manon scoffs.

The audience continues to scream, welcoming their entertainment.

Lorcan: Woo

Cadre + Crowd : HEY!    HEY!

Fenrys:    THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

                   YOU HOLD ME TIGHT

 AND TELL ME IʻM THE ONLY ONE WANNA COME OVER  TONIGHT, YEAH

Cadre:   KEEP ON WHISPERING IN MY EAR

     TELL ME ALL THE THINGS THAT I WANNA HEAR

        ʻCAUSE ITʻS TRUE

Connal:         THATʻS RIGHT

          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Fenrys:          YEAH WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

                        YOU REALLY KNOW HOW TO DANCE

         OH-   WHEN YOU GO UP, DOWN, JUMP AROUND

        THINKING ʻBOUT TRUE ROMANCE, YEAH

Cadre:          KEEP ON WHISPERING IN MY EAR

           TELL ME ALL THE THINGS THAT I WANNA HEAR

          ʻCAUSE ITʻS TRUE,  THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT --- YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Everyone:      HEY!

 Aelin watches, eyes wide, mouth agape, as a certain silver haired ghost from her past shreds a guitar solo. He catches her presence, and suddenly loses touch with reality - the sounds start to deafen around him of realization of who is in the crowd.

Fenrys:       “LISTEN UP *ELLYWE*”

Rowan:         WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Fenrys:         YOU HOLD ME REAL TIGHT.              heha.

                  NEVER WANNA LET YOU GO

            KNOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL ALRIGHT

Cadre:        KEEP ON WHISPERING IN MY EAR

                TELL ME ALL THE THINGS THAT I WANNA HEAR

           ʻCAUSE ITʻS TRUE, THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Connal:       [HERE WE GO]

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT --- Y- Y-

                   THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOOOOOOOOOOOU

- The crowd goes absolutely nuts, yet his gaze never leaves hers. That canʻt be, he thinks to himself, what is she doing here? 

   The only blonde in the group grabs his mic, Aelin deduced this is the one called Fenrys from the squealing girls in the audience yelling his name. “How are we doing tonight Ellywe?”,walls of screams respond. “We are so glad to be here with you guys, so glad in fact that weʻve prepared a little treat for you guys,” continues shrieking, “take it away Whitethorn.”

[A.N] Start “House of Memories” by Panic! At the Disco now, follow along, and use your imagination. Find the playlist here.

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:    IF YOUʻRE A LOVER, YOU SHOULD KNOW

        THE LONELY MOMENTS JUST GET LONELIER

                 THE LONGER YOUʻRE IN LOVE

                 THAN IF YOU WERE ALONE

                MEMORIES TURN INTO DAYDREAMS

                   BECOME A TABOO

-  Eyes still locked with hers as if in a silent conversation  -

          I DONʻT WANT TO BE AFRAID

             THE DEEPER THAT I GO

               IT TAKES MY BREATH AWAY

             SOFT HEARTS, ELECTRIC SOULS

             HEART TO HEART AND EYES TO EYES

                       IS THIS TABOO?

      BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

 -  He winks at the woman in the red dress who has captured his slightly divided attention.   -

             AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACY

          PROMISE ME A PLACE IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:      I THINK OF YOU FROM TIME TO TIME

                     MORE THAN I THOUGHT I WOULD

                    YOU WERE JUST TOO KIND

                  AND I WAS TOO YOUNG TO KNOW

                 THATʻS ALL THAT REALLY MATTERS

                             I WAS A FOOL

      BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

    AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACIES

 PROMISE ME A PLACE IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:  THOSE THOUGHTS OF PAST LOVERS, THEYʻLL ALWAYS HAUNT ME

    I WISH I COULD BELIEVE YOUʻD NEVER WRONG ME

   THEN WILL YOU REMEMBER ME IN THE SAME WAY

                   AS I REMEMBER YOU?

   BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

   TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

     AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACY

               PROMISE ME A PLACE 

   BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

  TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

   AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACY

    PROMISE ME A PLACE IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:                   IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:                          PROMISE ME A PLACE

-  Once again, the crowd goes absolutely berserk, and rightfully so, The Cadre had really came out to impress tonight. Still in a state of shock, Aelin grabs Manonʻs wrists and pulls her to the open bar near the back of the stage deck, “I need a drink.”

“Damn. I have to give it to them, they are REALLY good.”

The band continues in the background, while Aelin completely loses herself to her racing mind.  -

[A.N] Start “American Idiot (Live)” by 5SOS now, follow along and let your imagination flow. Find playlist here.

Connal:      “Does anybody know the band ʻGreen Dayʻ?”

Fenrys:        “Iʻm not familiar”

Connal:        “The next song weʻr --”

Fenrys:         “Whoʻs that?”

Connal:        “Heh, the next song weʻre going to play is a very, very, very fast cover of them”

Fenrys:         “Iʻm sorry --”

Lorcan:          “Donʻt judge my drumming, I suck at this song, letʻs go,”

-    Aelin and Manon return to their group of friends, drinks in hand, completely enthralled by the performers.  - 

Connal:          DONʻT WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT

                        ONE NATION CONTROLLED BY THE MEDIA

                    AND CAN YOU HEAR THE SOUND OF HYSTERIA?

                AND SING ALONG TO THE AGE OF PARANOIA

Fenrys:       WELCOME TO A NEW KIND OF TENSION

                    ALL ACROSS THE ALIEN NATION

                 WHERE EVERYTHING ISNʻT MEANT TO BE OKAY

                   TELEVISION DREAMS OF TOMORROW

            WEʻRE NOT THE ONES WHOʻRE MEANT TO FOLLOW

              FOR THATʻS ENOUGH TO ARGUE

Connal:             DONʻT WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT

                     IʻM NOT APART OF THE REDNECK AGENDA

                 NOW EVERYBODY DO THE PROPAGANDA

            AND SING ALONG TO THE AGE OF PARANOIA

Fenrys:         WELCOME TO A NEW KIND OF TENSION

                  ALL ACROSS THE ALIEN NATION

               WHERE EVERYTHING ISNʻT MEANT TO BE OKAY

                TELEVISION DREAMS OF TOMORROW

              WEʻRE NOT THE ONES WHOʻRE MEANT TO FOLLOW

                 FOR THATʻS ENOUGH TO ARGUE

-   Rowan has a bass solo, to which Aelin has a difficult time not being captivated by, her eyes never leave the silver-haired, green eyed, bassist, as if they are in their own little world.    -

-   Lorcan has a drumming solo to which Elide screeches, “THATʻS MY MOTHERFUCKING HUSBAND,” he couldnʻt have possibly heard her over the drowning music but he notes her excitement and gives her a wide grin, only meant for her eyes.   -

Connal:        DONʻT WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT

                    ONE NATION CONTROLLED BY THE MEDIA

Fenrys:                INFORMATION AGE OF HYSTERIA

Connal:             ITʻS CALLING OUT TO IDIOT AMERICA

Fenrys:         WELCOME TO A NEW KIND OF TENSION

                 ALL ACROSS THE ALIEN NATION

              WHERE EVERYTHING ISNʻT MEANT TO BE OKAY

               TELEVISION DREAMS OF TOMORROW

             WEʻRE NOT THE ONES WHOʻRE MEANT TO FOLLOW

                FOR THATʻS ENOUGH TO ARGUE

- More headache causing, loud screaming from their devoted audience -

[A.N.] Start “Teenage Dream (Live)” by 5SOS now, follow along and let your imagination work. Find playlist here.

Fenrys:         “Whatʻs the next song *Connal Moonbeam*”

Connal:           “The next song weʻre going to play is a cover, so [crowd screams] itʻs not one of our songs actually.”

Fenrys:  “Itʻs usually for the people in the audience who donʻt know our song, so if you have a mum, or a dad, or someone here, aunty, uncle,

Lorcan:       “-significant other-”

Fenrys:         “-puppy, this songʻs for you, it goes like this.”

Connal:       “uno , dos, tres, cuatro-”

-   The song starts to build and the men on stage look completely in their element.    -

Rowan:      I THINK YOUʻRE PRETTY WITHOUT ANY MAKEUP ON

       I THINK YOUʻRE FUNNY WHEN YOU TELL THE PUNCHLINE WRONG

     I KNOW YOU GOT ME, SO I LET MY WALLS COME DOWN, DOWN

Fenrys:         BEFORE YOU MET ME, I WAS ALRIGHT

                   BUT THINGS WERE KINDA HEAVY

                      YOU BROUGHT ME TO LIFE

       NOW EVERY FEBRUARY, YOUʻLL BE MY VALENTINE, VALENTINE

Connal:            SO LETʻS GO ALL THE WAY TONIGHT

                      NO REGRETS, JUST LOVE

                 WE CAN DANCE UNTIL WE DIE

                  YOU AND I, WEʻLL BE YOUNG FOREVER

              YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM LIVING A TEENAGE DREAM

               THE WAY YOU TURN ME ON, I CANʻT SLEEP

             LETʻS RUN AWAY AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

               DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

               MY HEART STOPS WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME

               JUST ONE TOUCH, NOW BABY I BELIEVE, THIS IS REAL

              LETʻS TAKE A CHANCE AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                     DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

Fenrys:         WE DROVE TO LA, GOT DOWN ON THE BEACH

                    GOT A MOTEL AND BUILT HOUSE OUT OF SHEETS

      I FINALLY GOT YOU, MY MISSING PUZZLE PIECE, IʻM COMPLETE

Connal:        SO LETʻS GO ALL THE WAY TONIGHT

                         NO REGRETS, JUST LOVE

                       WE CAN DANCE, UNTIL WE DIE

                 YOU AND I [here we go], WEʻLL BE YOUNG FOREVER

     YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM LIVING A TEENAGE DREAM

              THE WAY YOU TURN ME ON, I CANʻT SLEEP

            LETʻS RUN AWAY AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

              DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

              ʻCAUSE MY HEART STOPS WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME

              JUST ONE TOUCH, NOW BABY I BELIEVE, THIS IS REAL

             LETʻS TAKE A CHANCE AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                    DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

Lorcan:         ʻCAUSE I CAN FEEL YOUR HEART RACING 

                                IN MY SKIN-TIGHT JEANS

                     BE YOUR TEENAGE DREAM TONIGHT

                  LET YOU REST YOUR HANDS ON ME

                          IN MY SKIN-TIGHT JEANS

                      BE YOUR TEENAGE DREAM TONIGHT [wooooooo]

Fenrys:      “*Ellywe*, if you know the words, please sing them”

Lorcan:      [ one, two, three, hey.  ]

Connal + CROWD:   ʻCAUSE YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IʻM LIVING A TEENAGE DREAM

                                    THE WAY YOU TURN ME ON, I CANʻT SLEEP

                                LETʻS RUN AWAY AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                                     DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                  ʻCAUSE MY HEART STOPS WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME

                 JUST ONE TOUCH, NOW BABY I BELIEVE, THIS IS REAL

                 LETʻS TAKE A CHANCE AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                                DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

Connal:   “The next song weʻre going to play, is about girls, and girls like this”

Fenrys:         “Cooties!”

-     There is a mixture of laughter and screams from the audience.   -

[A.N.] Start “Valentine (Live)” by 5SOS now, follow along, and - yea you know the drill. Find playlist here.

Rowan:     “This oneʻs a new one. Youngblood itʻs called Valentine, it goes like                      this”

Lorcan:      “*Ellywe* letʻs fucking dance.”

Rowan:  I LOVE THE LIGHT IN YOUR EYES AND THE DARK IN YOUR HEART

           YOU LOVE A PERMANENT CHASE AND THE BITE OF OUR MARK

       WE KNOW WEʻRE CLASSIC TOGETHER LIKE EGYPTIAN GOLD

                   WE WILL LOVE US

    IT DONʻT MATTER, BE COMBATIVE OR BE SWEET CHERRY PIE

       IT DONʻT MATTER, JUST AS LONG AS I GET ALL YOU TONIGHT

       [ here we go ]

Cadre:       I CAN TAKE YOU OUT, OH - OH

                  WE CAN KILL SOME TIME STAY HOME

 THROW BALLOONS, TEDDY BEARS, AND THE CHOCOLATE ECLAIRS AWAY

    I GOT NOTHINʻ BUT LOVE FOR YOU, FALL MORE IN LOVE EVERYDAY

                     VALENTINE,      VALENTINE

Lorcan:       SO FUCKINʻ DEEP THAT YOUR DNAʻS BEINʻ MESSED WITH MY                          TOUCH,      CANʻT BEAT US

Connal:     SO REAL, FUELING THE FIRE UNTIL WE COMBUST

                      CANʻT TOUCH US.   [give it to me]

Fenrys:        IT DONʻT MATTER BE COMBATIVE OR BE SWEET CHERRY PIE

                IT DONʻT MATTER JUST AS LONG AS I GET ALL YOU TONIGHT

Cadre:       I CAN TAKE YOU OUT, OH - OH

                 WE CAN KILL SOME TIME STAY HOME

THROW BALLOONS, TEDDY BEARS, AND THE CHOCOLATE ECLAIRS AWAY

   I GOT NOTHINʻ BUT LOVE FOR YOU, FALL MORE IN LOVE EVERYDAY

                    VALENTINE,      VALENTINE

Rowan:    FULL PLATE, DONʻT WAIT, HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO

                   [ SING ]

Crowd: FULL PLATE, DONʻT WAIT, [+ ROWAN] HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT

Cadre:       I CAN TAKE YOU OUT, OH - OH

                WE CAN KILL SOME TIME STAY HOME

THROW BALLOONS, TEDDY BEARS, AND THE CHOCOLATE ECLAIRS AWAY

  I GOT NOTHINʻ BUT LOVE FOR YOU, FALL MORE IN LOVE EVERYDAY

                   VALENTINE,      VALENTINE,       

Fenrys:         VALENTINE,      VALENTINE

Rowan:    WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY.  “you sing”

Crowd:       WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY   [ “JUST YOU”]

                     WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY

                     [”ONE MORE TIME”]

                          WOAH - HEY

-  The crowd cheers. - 

Fenrys:      “Goodnight Ellywe, we will see you later!”

-  The men leave the stage, leaving their fans in utter bliss, and one certain blonde bad bitch in a stunning red dress is left alone to her thoughts, processing what the hell had just happened.  -

[ Hi, if youʻve made it this far good for you! I hope you like the story this far. I apologize for mainly including 5sos in this chapter, I just felt it fit the vibe of opening night best. Going forward I will include more diverse artists and bands that I feel sound like the characters. -- My inbox is always open for messages, Iʻm accepting prompts, I want you guys to write this story with me, so if you have any ideas or even songs you want to see in this story, let me know! -- If you would like to be on the tag list send me a message, thank you so much for your support - saylor loves you ! :) ]

-

All Hands on Deck taglist:

@smalltddygothgf​ @booksbqueen​ @underworldboxers​ @live-the-fangirl-life​ @booknerdproblems​ @rowaelinismyotp​ 

[wokeuptired]

every perfect summer

Finn is steady on her own two feet but Niall is a hurricane, determined to bring to the surface what she’s long buried. If only he weren’t so beautiful at sunset, she might be able to resist. 

written for​ @majorharry ‘s 20k fic celebration 

prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that.”

niall/ofc, 6.2k

Summer in California is hot and sticky, the kind of sticky that makes you feel silly showering, because as soon as you walk outside, you’ll be sweaty all over again. Even with the fan on full blast, Finn’s thighs are sticking to the leather of the couch she took from her mom’s house when she moved out. She’s read the same page a hundred times, over and over again. The heat makes it hard to think. 

The heat makes it hard to breathe.

And mostly, the heat makes it hard to write.

Finn’s about to put the book down when she hears footsteps on the stairs outside. Her apartment complex is a series of buildings each containing a dozen apartments. Finn shares the landing of her staircase with the apartment next door, but it’s the wrong time of day for Cindy and Ralph to be returning home, which means—

“Your new downstairs neighbor is hot,” Jocelyn announces as the apartment door slams shut behind her, the gust of warm air ruffling the pages of Finn’s book. She looks up to roll her eyes.

“You think every guy is hot.”

Jocelyn dumps her shopping on the kitchen table and scoffs. “I do not. Just the hot ones.”

“Aren’t you engaged?” Finn glances down at the big shiny ring on Jocelyn’s finger to emphasize her point. Even though Jocelyn moved out six months ago, when her boyfriend popped the question, sometimes it feels like she never left. Right now is one of those times. “What’s Marcus think about all this looking you do?” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Jocelyn punctuates her statement with a saucy flip of her hair and begins unloading her bags onto the small kitchen counter. She holds up a carton of ice cream. “Should I bother putting this away, or do you want to dive in right now?” 

Finn holds her hand out for the rocky road. “You know me so well.” 

“You’re welcome.” As Finn digs into the tub of ice cream, Jocelyn begins putting things away in the fridge. “You know,” she says into the veggie drawer, “I’m not kidding about your new neighbor. He’s got this angelic frat boy look to him. Have you met him yet?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Last week. He offered to carry a package upstairs for me. Very polite, and totally not my type.” 

“Exactly.” Jocelyn sits on the couch with another spoon and slides the ice cream out of Finn’s grasp. “As your older sister, it’s my job to advise you on everything. Starting with your interest in men, which is, to be frank, utter shit.” 

Finn opens her mouth to object, but she can’t find fault with Jocelyn’s statement. Her last boyfriend wouldn’t come to any work events with her but insisted she attend all of his art shows. He had an ego the size of the Milky Way to make up for his abysmal lack of talent.

“You need to stop dating those neurotic, artsy types,” Jocelyn continues, “and date a man who can, like, actually kill a spider.”

“I’m perfectly capable of killing my own spiders.” As long as they’re small and not moving, but Finn doesn’t feel the need to share that caveat. 

“So am I,” Jocelyn says. “Do you want wine?” She doesn’t wait for Finn to answer before she gets up and goes straight for the cupboard that holds the long-stem glasses. “Anyway, that’s not my point. You need to stop dating boys who look good on paper and start dating men who are good. In real life.” 

Finn closes her book so that it doesn’t have to listen to this conversation. She accepts the wine glass from Jocelyn’s outstretched hand and swirls around the liquid within. It doesn’t go with the ice cream, but she’s 25 years old, so that doesn’t matter.

Jocelyn scowls at the closed book. “Virginia Woolf again, Finn? Are you ever going to read anything written in this century?”

Finn rolls her eyes. If there’s one thing her sister excels at, it’s being unsatisfied with all aspects of Finn’s life. “Are you here just to criticize me? Or are we watching ‘The Bachelor’?”

Jocelyn grins, spoon still in her mouth. “Oh, we’re watching ‘The Bachelor.’” 

-----

The thing about “The Bachelor,” Finn decides that night as she’s brushing her teeth, is that, for the women involved, the ones competing for the bachelor’s heart, there are no consequences. 

Oh, small consequences, sure. Your decision might make somebody else cry, or your heart might be slightly bruised, but at the end of it all, you’ve got thousands of new Instagram followers and you’re famous in your small town and everybody wants to date you, even though you chose, of your own free will, to engage in the skeptical that is a dating game show. 

But there are no big consequences, no bad consequences. A few months later and the next season’s airing, and everything you did, every dumb thing you said, every kiss you exchanged—it’s all forgotten. 

Maybe that’s the way to go, Finn thinks. 

Maybe next year, she ought to audition. She develops the pitch in her head: 25 year old ghostwriter of bestselling romance novels; lives alone in Los Angeles; has been considering, for an entire year, the adoption of a cat; has never been in love. 

It’s that last part that would sway them, she thinks. The producers would imagine her doe-eyed and innocent, maybe a bit naive. She’d be pitted against the season’s villain, the girl with dark hair (a visual contrast to Finn’s blond bob) who would stop at nothing to win her man. 

“How can she write romance novels when she has never known love?” audiences across America would wonder. 

Perhaps the bachelor himself would even inquire. Finn would smile shyly, bat her impossibly long eyelashes up at him, and say something coy like, “You could tutor me.” 

Jocelyn would love that. She lives for the drama, for what the editors create in post-production. She doesn’t care that it’s fake.

And every week Finn watches and wonders how she can keep selling love in her books when this show proves, without a doubt, that it doesn’t exist.

-----

The new downstairs neighbor works out in the mornings on his patio. Finn hears his music the next morning, drifting in through her open sliding door, around 8:30 AM. It’s not early enough for her to be justifiably annoyed at him, but she’s annoyed nonetheless, because she’s just sat down at her laptop with the intention of writing something today.

Something. Anything. Words on the page, that’s all she needs. 

Instead, she sighs, closing her laptop and crossing the room to the balcony. She slides the door open further, pushes the screen out of the way, and goes outside. When she and Jocelyn first moved in, the balcony was a huge appeal. “Outdoor space!” they’d squealed when they first saw the apartment listed online. But now Finn’s been here for two and a half years, and the balcony is just another space for dust to collect. 

It’s directly over Downstairs Neighbor’s patio. Finn looks down through the wooden slats and tries to catch a glimpse at him. She can hear Jocelyn’s voice in her head: He’s hot, right? I told you he was hot! 

In truth, though, Finn can’t see much through the small gaps between the planks. She can’t tell if he’s lifting weights or doing jumping jacks or playing a very enthusiastic game of cat’s cradle. He’s definitely grunting, though. 

Finn shakes her head, trying not to focus on the noises he’s making, and crosses the balcony. She leans her arms on the railing and looks out over the beauty of Los Angeles. Beauty referring, of course, to the parking lot. Finn can see her car, about thirty feet away, parked beneath an evil tree that drops red berries. It really needs to be washed. 

Maybe she should take it today. Maybe today will be the first day in a month that she’s gotten dressed in pants that have a zipper and a button, and she’ll go to the carwash and—

Feeling something crawling on her arm, Finn looks down, and oh, shit, it’s a spider. Not a little spider, not a daddy long legs, but one of those ones that’s big enough where you can see its body. It looks like one of those spiders a little kid draws around Halloween. 

Oh, shit. Finn lifts her arm, waving it wildly, trying to shake the spider loose before it bites her and turns her into Spider Woman, and that’s when she throws her mug of coffee into the air. 

“Oh, shit,” she says out loud. Time seems to slow as she watches her mug descend, coffee flying everywhere as the cup turns a full 360 degrees before landing with a crack on the concrete below. 

“What the fuck?” It’s Downstairs Neighbor. 

“Oh, shit,” Finn says again. Which, no doubt, Downstairs Neighbor heard. Oh, shit. That one’s in her head, at least.

She hears a grunt as he, she imagines, lowers his weight to the ground, then the snick of his sliding glass door, then the sound of his front door opening, and then, oh, shit, there he is, standing on the ground, looking at her broken coffee cup. 

Oh, shit, Finn thinks again as she drops to her knees, hiding herself from view. 

Apparently unsuccessfully, as not thirty seconds later, she hears, “I can see you, ya know.” 

Finn rises slowly to her feet and looks down. It’s hard not to admit that Jocelyn was right as she looks down at him, messy hair and blue eyes and muscles visible through his sweaty t-shirt. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” His eyes twinkle, and she knows he’s trying not to laugh at her. “This yours?” 

“Yeah. Sorry I interrupted you.” 

He laughs then, a light, musical sound that she can feel in her toes. Oh, shit. That’s not good. Finn’s characters feel laughter in their toes, but she certainly doesn’t. Feeling someone’s laughter in her toes is not a real thing, she’s always thought, except, apparently, it is.

“What happened?” he asks. 

“There was a spider.”

“A spider.” 

Finn nods, cheeks burning. “It was a big spider.” 

“You gonna come clean it up?” 

Finn nods again. “In a minute.” 

“Okay.” He grins up at her and she blushes back. 

Finn turns around and goes inside, sliding the door shut behind her, and waits, listening for the sounds of Downstairs neighbor reentering his own apartment, shutting the door, locking it. When a minute has passed without any of that, Finn realizes that he must be waiting for her. 

Oh, shit. Finn doesn’t have to be Jocelyn to know that this is not the ideal situation in which one wants to interact with Hot Downstairs Neighbor. But it seems like she doesn’t have a choice, so she slips on the flip flops she keeps by the door and goes downstairs. 

He’s still there, standing in the sunshine, squinting when he smiles. “There you are,” he says. 

“Here I am.” Finn looks down, surveying the damage. The mug has split into several large chunks, and maybe if Finn were better at diy-ing she’d be able to fix it, but as things stand now, it’s destined for the garbage. “Damn, I really liked that mug.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Downstairs Neighbor says, which is such a strange thing to say that Finn startles, turning to stare at him. 

“Thanks?” she says. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Niall.” 

Finn accepts the handshake. “I’m Finn.” 

His hand is warm and a bit clammy, a bit like California in the summer, and her stomach goes topsy-turvy. She yanks her hand back. 

“Nice to meet you,” Niall says. “I guess you’re the neighbor who watches ‘The Bachelor’?” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks, dropping to a squat. She gathers up the pieces of her destroyed mug and doesn’t answer him. How nosy of him, asking her that. But then, she was the one listening to him work out this morning. 

“My sister likes it,” she says. “I’m just along for the ride.” 

“Hey, there’s no shame in liking ‘The Bachelor,’” Niall says, dropping down beside her. They reach for the last piece at the same time, hands brushing. Finn draws hers back, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingertips. “Here.” 

Finn accepts the final shard. “Thanks,” she says. “And I don’t like ‘The Bachelor.’ I think it’s silly.” 

Niall smiles at her again, all teeth and sunshine. “What’s silly about love?”

Finn blinks at him, trying to decide if he’s an idiot or just bad at small talk. Maybe both. “That show is not about love,” she says. “Have you ever seen it?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve heard it through the ceiling.” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks again. What a neighbor. She can’t wait to tell Jocelyn about this, to prove to her that Downstairs Neighbor may be hot, but his positive qualities end there. He’s intrusive and nosy and way, way too good looking.

“You can get back to your workout,” she says, standing up straight. He follows, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. “Sorry for bothering you.” 

“Not a bother,” he says. “It was nice to meet you, Finn.” 

“Yep,” she says, offering him a half smile before she turns tail and dashes up the stairs, back to her safe, quiet, Downstairs Neighbor-free apartment. Back to her laptop, and the manuscript due in three months that she hasn’t managed to crack yet. Back to being hot and sweaty inside her apartment, instead of outside. 

“Have a good day!” he calls after her. She doesn’t return the greeting. 

-----

The next morning, a knock on the door wakes Finn up from a dream, the kind of dream that you know as soon as you wake was a good one, but it’s too late, you’ve forgotten it, and you won’t be able to get it back. 

“No,” she mutters, turning over in bed, burrowing into the pillow. “I’m sleeping.” But then the knock sounds again. “Damnit.” 

Finn climbs out of bed and reaches for her phone on the nightstand. 8:27 AM on a Wednesday. An acceptable hour for someone to be knocking on the door, she supposes. Except she was up till 1 o’clock trying to make her messy notes into something resembling an outline that could someday (someday soon, she hopes) be a book. 

The morning person disturbing her sleep knocks again, eliminating the possibility that it’s just UPS dropping off a package. Finn drops her phone on the bed and makes her way down the hall to the living room, where sunlight blares in so sharply it makes her squint. 

“Gah,” she says to herself as she pulls open the door. And then, “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Hot Downstairs Neighbor—Niall, Finn corrects herself—says. “UPS dropped off this package at my door, but I think it’s yours.” 

Finn looks down at the envelope he’s holding out, but the label is blurry. Oh, shit, her glasses. “If you say so,” she says. “I’d have to grab my glasses to know for sure.” 

Niall smiles at her, she thinks, but the details of his face are a bit blurry. “I can wait,” he says. “We should make sure it’s yours.” 

Finn frowns at him for a second—He can read, can’t he? Shouldn’t he know if it’s her name on the label?—before deciding that it’s too early for an argument. “Fine, whatever,” she says, turning around and leaving him in the doorway. 

That’s where she expects him to stay, but when she returns to the door a minute later with her glasses perched on her nose, he’s inside her apartment, poking around the bookshelves on either side of her television. The package he brought over has been discarded on the coffee table. 

Finn ignores him for a second as she picks it up. Yep, it’s definitely hers. It’s a proof of her latest Isobel novel, if she had to guess. But she’s not going to open it now, not with Niall here. 

Niall, who is currently nosing around her living room, looking much too closely at things she’d rather he not see. 

“What are these?” Niall steps closer to the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the spines. “You read romance novels?”

“Not exactly,” Finn says. Which lie should she tell this time? She has a few prepared: “they’re my sister’s” or “my roommate forgot them when she moved out.” Said roommate is said sister, but for the sake of the lie, that wouldn’t matter. But then the truth slips out. “I write them.”

“You write them?” Niall repeats. He pulls one of the books out, Summer’s Dalliance, about two yoga instructors who find love during a training retreat in the Maldives. “You’re Isobel Soleil?”

Finn can tell from the way Niall says Isobel Soleil that he’s heard of her. Who hasn’t heard of her, these days? Her books are in grocery stores and airport shops and on bestseller lists and there’s a series in development with HBO. 

As a ghostwriter, Finn isn’t involved, but she knows the show will help move sales, which means bigger checks, which means maybe, eventually, she can write something she actually cares about.

“Not exactly.” Finn takes the book out of his hand and returns it to its place on the shelf. It’s not as if she’s proud of it. That’s not why she has it out. It’s just a placeholder until she publishes a book she’s actually proud of. “Isobel Soleil isn’t a person. She’s a brand. Her books are written by half a dozen different people. How do you think she can pump them out so quickly?”

“How quickly?” 

“Three or four a year.”

“And you wrote all of these?” Niall’s finger runs along the spines. “How many are there? Ten?”

“Eight,” Finn corrects. Eight cheesy, embarrassing, don’t-let-your-mother-see-you-reading-that novels. “But they’re formulaic and simplistic. They’re not… they’re not good.”

Niall shrugs. “They’re not high literature, you mean. Someone reads them, though, right? And the people who read them enjoy them. So who cares if they’re not high literature, Finn?” 

Finn swallows the sudden lump in her throat. How has Niall managed to get to the quick of things so, well, quick? “I care, I guess. This isn’t what I imagined I’d be doing when I was little, telling people I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.”

“So write something else,” Niall says. 

Finn sighs. She wishes it were that easy. If only she could break out of the mold she’s put herself in and write something else, something that’s not about two people falling in love. If only she could write something she actually believed in.

But she has a contract and a deadline and an agent and an editor on her back, and no choice but to finish this Isobel Soleil novel. 

“Maybe next summer,” she says. 

Niall considers her, nods. “Speaking of this summer,” he says slowly, like he’s thinking about what he’s going to say as he’s saying it, “I have free tickets to LACMA, and I just moved to town so I don’t know a ton of people. Want to go with me?” 

Say yes or no more ice cream, Jocelyn’s voice says in the back of Finn’s mind. 

“Sure,” she says. “But you know my secret”—she gestures to the bookshelves—“so now you have to tell me one of yours. So I know you’re not a serial killer or something.” 

He smiles at her and, damn, he’s good looking. “I’m a lawyer,” he says. “My new job doesn’t start till August, so I’m working remotely with my old firm until then.” 

“That’s not a secret.” Not a secret at all, but a great career for a hero in a romance novel. Finn makes a mental note. 

“Okay,” Niall says. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, lifting one hand to his chin, a classic thinking pose. “How about this? I’m not from here.” 

Finn shakes her head. She’d already guessed that from his accent, a soft, lilting Irish one that makes everything he says sound like a poem. “Not a secret either. You get one more try.” 

“One more try!” he says with mock shock. “I’ll make this good, then.”

He thinks and Finn waits, and in the thirty seconds it takes him to come up with a good secret, she wonders what the hell she’s doing, flirting with Hot Downstairs Neighbor in her living room while dressed in her pajamas. Oh, shit, she’s not wearing a bra, is she?

Finn crosses her arms over her chest and considers backing out of this conversation entirely by making something up that will put Niall off and convince him that she’s the worst possible LACMA companion. 

But then he says, “I can’t swim,” and that is distracting enough to make her forget everything else. 

“You can’t swim?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing in southern California?” 

Niall shrugs. His smile makes her insides go wonky. “Maybe you can teach me.” Then he holds out his phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you and we can make plans.” 

She obliges, all the while wondering what exactly she’s gotten herself into. 

-----

LACMA day comes much quicker than Finn anticipates. When she and Niall first made the plans a week ago, Saturday seemed like ages away. There was so much she was going to do between now and then: repot all of her plants, make bread from scratch, work on her manuscript. But instead, she putters around her apartment, typing words here and there, ignoring how bad they are, and not baking bread. 

It’s a waste of a week, and not just because Niall is there, in the back of her mind, the whole time. 

Jocelyn’s excited, of course, for LACMA day, and insists on coming over the night before to help Finn select her outfit. Finn keeps reminding her that it’s summer in Los Angeles, so it’s a thousand degrees out and she will melt no matter what she wears, but Jocelyn doesn’t care.

Which is how Finn ends up knocking on Niall’s door on LACMA day dressed in a romper that’s giving her a wedgie, a purse she never carries slung over her shoulder. Jocelyn even forced her to wear lip gloss. 

“Lip gloss makes you a different person,” Jocelyn said last night on her way out. “I left you three options. Please wear one.” 

“I don’t take advice from the Sweet Valley Twins anymore,” Finn had retorted as she shut the door in Jocelyn’s face. 

But she’s wearing the lip gloss anyway. Her hair has already gotten stuck in it three times, and all she’s done is climb down the stairs. 

She knocks again, half hoping Niall hasn’t changed his mind and half hoping that he has. If he has, she can go back upstairs, put her pajamas on again, and continue to stare at her blank Word document. But then he opens the door.

“Good morning!” His smile is so bright it makes her squint. “Coffee?” 

He holds out a travel mug to her, waiting for her to take it. 

“Good morning,” she says after she takes a sip. The coffee is exactly the right temperature and perfectly sweet, which is almost enough to make her smile. “This is good coffee.” 

“It’s from Ecuador,” Niall says. He steps out onto the welcome mat and closes the apartment door behind him. “Hold this for me?” 

Finn holds his travel mug as he locks the door and turns the knob a couple of times to make sure it’s secure. Then he turns around, his smile lighting up his face. 

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” she says, though she’s pretty sure she isn’t.

She learns, over the next few hours, that Niall’s energy is nonstop. He talks constantly during their drive to the museum, talks as they park the car, talks as they ride the elevator to the top floor and begin making their way through the galleries. He tells her where he’s from and where he went to school and what his favorite sports teams are. 

And she finds herself talking too. She tells him about her sister and where she went to school and how she got started writing Isobel Soleil novels, and the entire time, she’s taking mental notes about him, about the way he holds doors for her and grins down at her and laughs even when her jokes are barely funny. 

This is how the heroes in her novels behave. They are handsome and well-meaning and have substantial life goals. They are polite and conscientious and make the heroines feel brave and important and valued. And that’s how Finn finds herself feeling: like if she had something to say, Niall would listen to it. 

After the museum, they stop for lunch at a restaurant Finn found on Yelp as they were leaving the parking structure. It’s small and bright inside, but as Niall pulls out Finn’s chair for her, it occurs to her, for the first time, that this might actually be a date. 

Jocelyn had said as much last night, but Finn had ignored her, as she does with most things Jocelyn says. But now, seated across from Niall, with nowhere to look but at him, reality dawns, and it’s blinding. 

But, she decides, she won’t address it, and she carries on with the meal as if they are recent acquaintances and neighbors, which is, she reminds herself, exactly what they are. 

-----

After LACMA day, Niall texts Finn about the movie he’s watching, and she imagines she can hear it through the floor. Later that evening, he texts her good night, and then, the next day, he texts her good morning. The next weekend, they go to Venice Beach together, and they see a movie in a classic theater downtown the following Tuesday. That night, he comes over for dinner, and they cook together, finding their way around each other in Finn’s small kitchen. 

And all of a sudden, this summer is different, hot and sticky like all the others, but different because this summer has Niall. 

Niall on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table, listing all the reasons that golf is superior to all other sports. 

Niall in the passenger’s seat of her car, singing along to the radio even when he doesn’t know the words, the sun setting behind him, lighting him up as if it’s saying, “Look, he’s beautiful.”

And he is beautiful. Niall in her thoughts, Niall on the back of her eyelids when she blinks, Niall in her dreams. Niall, beautiful. 

And Niall in her manuscript, try as she might to keep him out. In sticking with the proposal she made to her editor back in the spring, she’s writing about a doctor and an artist who meet when they’re sharing a wall in a duplex summer rental on the coast of Oregon. By midsummer, she’s written thirty thousand words, enough to reassure her editor that she’s still writing, that things are fine, and, upon rereading, she realizes that the doctor has become Niall.

The doctor, so sure of himself, driven and determined and sexier than any other hero she’s ever written. He is confident and has beautiful eyes and magic fingers, and the heroine, the artist, is head over heels in love with him before she’s even thought to like him. 

And the artist. Finn is the artist, the confused, prideful creative soul who doesn’t want love, is afraid of it, just wants to be left alone. But now she has the lawyer, the beautiful, handsome, intelligent, lovely lawyer who makes her want to stop hiding. He makes her want to feel things. He makes her want to reach out for him, to push her fears aside and let her have what she wants. 

July brings that realization and an unseasonal thunderstorm that forces Finn to bring out a bucket and email her landlord about that leak in the roof from December that still hasn’t been fixed. That’s a momentary distraction, at least, from thoughts of Niall, thoughts of Niall that are plaguing her every moment. Awake, asleep, Niall. Always Niall. 

It’s thundering overhead when there’s a knock at her door. She opens it, and there he is, like she’s conjured him.

“I brought wine,” he says, holding out the bottle.

“Come in,” she says. She thinks of how much has changed since she sat on her couch a month ago, drinking wine with Jocelyn. She wishes, for a moment, that she could go back. But then she looks at Niall again. 

And she doesn’t want to look away, like the artist doesn’t want to look away from the doctor. When you find something this perfect, why would you ever look away? Why would you let it go? 

Finn knows from experience, though, that sometimes you don’t get to choose when people leave. Sometimes they leave you, aching and cold and alone. Sometimes it’s not up to you. 

“Come in,” she says again. She grabs two wine glasses from the kitchen and joins Niall in the living room, where they sit on the couch, thighs pressed together, and he picks a movie for them to watch. 

She isn’t paying attention, though, as she downs two glasses of wine and wonders if Niall will kiss her tonight. She’d like him to, she decides, just as much as she doesn’t want him to. It’s like the Schroedinger’s cat of kisses—if they never kiss, she will never know the kiss, but she will also never know what happens after it. She will never know if they go further, if they stop abruptly, if he breaks her heart and leaves her in pieces, smashed on the concrete like her broken coffee mug. 

But she will also never know if it will be beautiful, like the loves of the characters in her novels, characters who risk their hearts when they don’t know what the outcome will be. The difference between Finn and Niall and the artist and the doctor, though, is that Finn can control the artist and the doctor. She can decide their ending, she can choose the words for the last page. 

And maybe, with Niall, she doesn’t want a last page. 

Two hours later, Finn is wine-drunk and sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the couch. Niall is next to her, the table pushed away from them to accommodate his long legs. She leans her head on his shoulder, thinking, in the way only a wine-addled mind will allow, that she’d like to keep this night forever, seal it into a locket and wear it around her neck. 

“Tell me again why you don’t like your books,” Niall says. He has her newest proof in front of him on the table. It’s littered with post-it notes, changes Finn would’ve made to it had she had more time. But it’s too late now, and it will print as is. 

“They’re not good,” Finn says, her go-to explanation. “I can do better.” 

Niall shakes his head. “But they are good. I read Sunshine in Your Mouth, and it’s good. You’re a good writer, Finn.” 

“Oh, no.” Finn ducks, covering her face with her arms. “You read it? I can’t believe you read it.” 

“Yeah, I did.” Niall tugs her arm away from her face. “Stop hiding from me.” 

Oh, if only he knew how apt that statement was, then maybe he wouldn’t say it. Finn puts her arms down and refills her wine glass. She knows she shouldn’t drink any more, but maybe if she does, she’ll stop thinking about how blue Niall’s eyes are and how soft his fingers feel against her arm. 

“Tell me the truth,” Niall says, thumbing the post-its in her proof copy. “Why don’t you like being Isobel Soleil?” 

“Because I’m not her. I’m not like her. I just don’t believe in love,” Finn tries to explain. “It’s like—”

Niall laughs. “Love’s not like the tooth fairy, Finn. You don’t have to have felt it to know it’s real.” 

Finn looks at him, at his soft cheeks and his pink lips and his messy hair. In another life, in another version of this world, maybe she and Niall have known each other forever, since they were kids. And maybe Finn loves Niall. Maybe she always has. Maybe they fit. Maybe it’s the easiest thing this other Finn’s ever felt. 

But the Finn that lives in this world, the one sitting on the floor of her apartment with her knees pulled to her chest and a half-empty wine glass in her hand—this Finn doesn’t feel things easily. Feelings are heavy and feelings hold you back and feelings stick around long after the people who brought them on are gone.

“My parents,” Finn says, “they got divorced when I was five.” 

“Finn, you don’t have to—” 

“It’s fine,” Finn says. The wine is talking now. The wine and the smell of Niall’s shampoo and the plunk plunk plunk of rain hitting the bucket on the kitchen floor. “My dad was sleeping with his secretary. Such a cliche, right? And it took my mom years to leave him. Years. He was sleeping with his secretary while my mom was pregnant with me. She kept thinking he’d stop, that he’d finally realize that he loved her, that he loved his family. She kept waiting, until she couldn’t anymore.” 

Finn feels Niall’s fingers brush against hers where they rest on the rug. “That’s why you don’t believe in love?”

“No.” Finn closes her eyes, her head tilting back against the sofa cushion. “That’s why I don’t let myself feel it.”

“Finn.” 

She doesn’t answer as Niall moves closer. Eyes closed, she can feel him entering her personal space, can feel the heat of his hand as he takes her wine glass, hears the clink of glass on wood as he puts it on the table. Feels his fingers on her cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Finn. Look at me.” 

So she does, opens her eyes and meets his, and it’s too much, it’s all too much, the way he’s looking at her like he can see her feelings, can read them as if they were written across her forehead.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles. “Like what?” 

“Like you like me.” The words are out before she can stop them, slipping from her lips like a sigh. 

“Finn.” He’s closer now, impossibly close, his hand on her cheek. “Finn, I more than like you.” 

“I—” Finn starts, but she doesn’t know what to say. 

She doesn’t know what this feeling is, the one taking over her chest and spreading to her stomach and traveling up her throat all the way to her eyeballs. It’s a headache and nausea at the same time, plus a sense of doom in her stomach, maybe the unconscious realization that this can’t last forever. 

Because feelings never do. Niall likes her now, likes her a lot, likes her enough to maybe kiss her against her dirty car in the parking lot fifty feet from their building. But that won’t last. He’ll like her for a bit and then he’ll like her less and less until nothing remains but the memory of the fire that used to burn, a bit of leftover smoke drifting skyward. 

And that’s when it will hurt. 

This will hurt, Finn thinks, but she jumps anyway. 

“Then kiss me,” she says. 

So he does, and in his kiss, for as long as it lasts, she lets herself feel everything: lets herself feel the sticky heat of summer and the sticky heat of a love so big it sucks you under, leaves you breathless, makes you hold on tight. 

She slides her hand into his hair and thinks, I will hold on tight. 

When it’s over, Niall pulls back, leans his forehead on hers. He’s breathing heavy when he says, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.” 

“I want to do it again,” Finn says. She slides her fingers under the collar of his shirt. 

Niall’s hand tightens on her waist. “Is that the wine talking?” 

Finn shakes her head. “No,” she says. “It’s me. And I more than like you, too.” 

Niall grins, bright and beautiful. “Good,” he says. “You’re my perfect summer.” 

He leans in to kiss her again, and Finn decides, in that split second before their lips meet, that even if all she gets with Niall is a summer, it will be beautiful and it will be perfect, the stuff of novels. The stuff of her novels. 

But, something in her gut tells her, Niall will be around for more than a summer.

He does live right downstairs, after all.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 2

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Thank you all so much for your thoughts and comments. I enjoy them immensely. I thought this was all going to be from Rowan’s POV, but... I was wrong. CW: Drinking, swearing.

The first Monday after Ashryver Playland opens is always Aelin’s favorite day of the summer. It’s a silly tradition her grandparents started, but it’s been a part of her life as long as she can remember. That very first Monday after the park’s first successful week, the Ashryver Galathinius clan opens up their summer home to the Playland’s staff and families for an all day pool party and barbeque.

Summer has always been Aelin’s favorite season. It means spending three months of pure bliss in her summer home, overlooking the waters of Terrasen from her bedroom balcony. And there’s something about Ashryver’s opening week barbeque that always manages to sets the tone for her summer. Summer doesn’t really begin until the barbeque begins. It’s always marks her first something.

When she was eleven, Aelin met her first real best friend, Dorian – one of the board member’s sons. She’d left the party to hide in the music room, trying to teach herself how to play her favorite Death Cab for Cutie song on the large grand piano, when he wandered in, singing on top of her stumbling melody line with a flawless unbroken tenor. He’d flashed her a giant smile and pushed his floppy dark curls out of his face and sat down on the bench next to her. They’d been best friends ever since. And the firsts only continued from there.

As Aelin finishes drawing a perfect cat eye with her liquid eyeliner she wonders what first awaits her this summer.  

“Aelin, ten minutes til guests.” Her mother, Evalin, walks past her open bedroom door and does a double-take. “Wowww, someone looks especially nice today,” her mom says with a playful gleam in her eye. “Might I ask who you’re dressing up for?” she asks, taking in Aelin’s white eyelet sundress and full face of makeup. “Because I know this certainly isn’t for Dorian. Wisely.”

“I heard that,” Dorian says, bounding up the last few steps and onto the second floor landing. He sees Aelin and grins that very same grin he gave her that first day he spotted her a decade ago and takes off running. Aelin squeals as Dorian hugs her from behind and swings her around, lifting her off her feet.

“Dor, put me down, I just finished doing my hair!” Aelin says, shrugging him off, but she returns his smile fondly, even as he flops down onto her perfectly made bed, making himself comfortable and kicking off his flip flops.

“You do look suspiciously nice, Ace. What’s with the dress and the hair? Aren’t you going to swim?” Dorian asks stretching his arms up and placing them under his head.

Aelin ignores him and goes back to finishing her makeup. She uncaps a crimson red lipstick and leans into the mirror to apply it when –

“You know if you’re actually looking to make out with someone tonight then red lips probably isn’t the right choice.”

Aelin slides her eye to the boy on her bed and then straightens up again, putting the red lipstick away. He does have a point. Dorian bolts upright, eyebrows raised.

“We’re making out with someone tonight? Who?” Dorian asks, poking Aelin’s thigh with one of his toes.

Aelin’s cheeks flush as she remembers the name of the staff member she so thoroughly stalked the other night. So thoroughly, in fact, that she’s actually embarrassed about it. But also, who has a public Facebook profile these days? Rowan Whitethorn, that’s who.

When Aelin realized all she had to do was ask her five year old nephew for the name of the man who rescued him, she was easily able to find the man on the RSVP list for the barbeque. And from there, she sat in front of her computer for hours, soaking in every last detail she could find. Grew up in Wendlyn, went to school at Mistward and majored in computer sciences and graduated four years ago. His interests include photography and fitness and baking (what man enjoys baking and posts pictures of it?).

Aelin is extremely curious as to how he ended up working at Playland. A man with that kind of degree doesn’t usually find himself ripping ticket stubs, but she’s not complaining about it. Aelin really enjoys looking at his face. And his arms. And his back. She’s anxious to talk to him today, which is annoying. Aelin is never anxious around men. She’s fun and flirty and confident, but one look at Rowan had her excess nerves dancing in circles and turning her into kind of a bitch. She’s hoping her second impression is a lot better. Hence, the dress. And the makeup.

“We’re making out with no one.” Aelin shoots a warning glance in Dorian’s direction as she puts on a light pink lip stain.

“You and Chaol didn’t get back together, did you?” Dorian asks, and Aelin cringes.

“Of course not.” She turns to Dorian as she puts on the final touch – her favorite gold hoop earrings. “You don’t think your best friend would have told you if we’d gotten back together?”

“I don’t know, that last break up nearly took us all out, so if we could not repeat that, that’d be great.” Dorian stares at her, willing her to fess up, but Aelin refuses to give him anything in return. It’s way too early to tell Dorian anything.

“All right, then,” he drawls in a silly British accent. “Keep your secrets.”

Aelin sticks out her tongue as her mom calls out from downstairs, “Kids! Party guests are here!”

“Twenty-four-years old, and we’re still fucking kids,” Dorian grumbles as the pair make their way down the grand front staircase. Aelin hops up onto the wooden banister and rides it all the way down to the bottom, shouting “Catch me!” to Dorian as he runs and chases her to the foyer.

Evalin scolds them, but there’s no real bite to it.  Aelin fixes her banister-swept hair and makes her way out to the front stairs where she and her parents will greet all the staff members and their families. Her parents are all about making the Playland employees feel welcomed, and they make a point to learn each and every one of their names. Plus, they’re a stickler for etiquette. Aelin can’t remember a time when she wasn’t on the front steps to welcome party guests as they arrived.

“I’ll meet you out back in… an hour-ish?” Aelin tells Dorian. “Steal me a bottle of pink champagne?”

Dorian bows at the waist. “Yes, your majesty.” He chuckles softly when she flips him off.

Aelin is the last to join her family. Her parents and her brother, for all intents and purposes, Aedion, already perched and ready to welcome the first wave of guests.

An hour later and Aelin’s jaw already hurts from smiling. She’s shaken so many hands and met so many people and made polite conversation with staff members from years past, but there’s still one face that hasn’t shown yet, and Aelin is having a hard time not showing her disappointment. He RSVPed yes, which means he should be here. Not showing up would be very rude. Right?

Aedion shakes out his hands and cracks his neck loudly. “Who’s ready for a drink?”

Aelin is reluctant to leave the front stairs. Leaving the front stairs means they’re finished greeting people at the party, which means that party guests have stopped arriving, and she’s not ready to admit that defeat. She gives one last wistful glance down the long empty driveway before giving in.

“Yeah, I could use a large drink,” Aelin yawns, leaning into her big brother’s shoulder.

“You’re not allowed to be tired,” he says with a laugh, squeezing her arm. “You are a sprightly youth and don’t have a ten-year-old and a five-year-old waking you up every morning at the crack of dawn to fight about watching Cars or Disney Fam Jam.”

Aelin looks up at him. “That’s not a real thing.”

“I assure you, it is.”

“This guy needs a drink,” Aelin says loudly as she and Aedion make their way out to the back patio where the party is really happening, and Aelin relaxes a tiny bit. So what if Rowan isn’t coming and she got all dressed up for nothing? She’ll look extra cute in pictures this year. She’s here with her family on the first real day of summer, and she’s determined to have a good day, regardless.

She takes in the scene around her – everyone seems to be having the best time. Caterers mill around the stone patio, holding out trays of grilled meats and veggies. At the far side of the patio is a long bar with an ample crowd around it. Champagne is being popped and spirits are being poured, and there’s endless bounds of chatter and laughter from all directions. In the middle of it all, the pool is filled with children and adults alike, playing games and doing handstands and lounging on floats.

The edge of the pool fades into the perfect view of the ocean. Aelin takes a deep breath as she watches the waves break against the shore. She listens to the gulls cawing overhead and inhales the salty sea breeze. Despite her small bout of disappointment, Aelin is happy.

Aedion’s two kids squeal for his attention from the pool.

“Dad! Auntie Ae!” Evie calls from the far end of the pool, her usual strawberry blonde ringlets sopping wet around her shoulders. “Watch me dive!”

Evie dives into the side of the pool, her dolphin arms in perfect form as she splashes into the water. She emerges with a giant smile on her freckled face.

“Good job!” Aedion beams. “Okay, drinks, now,” he whispers to Aelin, guiding her toward the bar.

“Where’s your wife?” Aelin asks, looking around for the green eyed brunette, who’s usually hovering around her children.

Aedion points ahead, and sure enough the woman in question stands at the front of the bar, looking insanely glamorous in a black one piece with a sheer leopard kaftan, taking shots of tequila with Aelin’s favorite returning staff member, Elide.

“Lysandra brought our babysitter with us today,” he says with a devious smile and snakes his way through the crowds to wrap his arm around his wife’s waist.

“Aelin, come do shots!” Elide pulls Aelin up to the bar, her outstretched hand helping her weave her way through the throngs of buzzed staff members. “We’re celebrating my promotion!”

“Ellie is officially manager level this summer.” Lysandra and Elide raise their newly filled shot glasses and hand one each to Aelin and Aedion respectively. Aelin hates tequila but loves Elide, so she clinks glasses and downs the alcohol quickly, grabbing a lime and sucking as much of the juice out of it as she can.

She shudders and Aedion punches her in the shoulder playfully. “Lightweight.”

Aelin rolls her eyes and reverts the topic back to Elide. “So, big shot manager. Does this mean you’re spending all your time with Lorcan now?” Aelin raises her eyebrows, knowing about Elide’s not so small crush on the stoic manager. “Long nights, just the two of you, arranging schedules in the soft romantic light of the Playland breakroom?”

Elide covers her face with her hand and screws her eyes shut. “Oh my god! No! No that is not what is happening at all.”

“Your mouth says no, but your blush says – ‘Yes, Lorcan, yes!’” Aelin teases, poking at Elide’s rosy cheeks. Elide slaps Aelin’s hands away.

“I just had three tequila shots, of course my cheeks are red.” Elide’s hands go to her cheeks, covering them as much as she can, trying to will away the warm flush creeping over her face. “You’re a monster, Aelin. That’s not what’s going on with Lorcan,” she hisses.

“What’s going on with me?” Lorcan asks, approaching from out of nowhere with a beer in his hand, and if possible Elide’s blush grows even deeper.

“Nothing!” Elide shouts, exasperated. “I’ll be right back. Be good, Aelin.” She throws Aelin a warning glare as she stalks off, and Lysandra and Aedion bite back their laughter as a bewildered Lorcan muses out loud—

“Did I say something?”

“No,” Aelin says, turning all her attention to Lorcan. “Elide was just saying how excited she is to work as a manager with you.”

Lorcan’s face lights up as he takes a sip of his beer. “Yeah, she’s been a huge help so far. Especially with such a new staff this year.”

“Yeah… a lot of newbies this year.” Aelin pauses, wondering if she should probe Lorcan about Rowan. It wouldn’t do any harm, right? “Anyone giving you any trouble?”

“Nah,” Lorcan shakes his head and pushes a long piece of hair behind his hair. “But you know me. I like them to think they’re all giving me trouble, so they act accordingly.” He snorts, amused with his own management technique. “There’s one new guy who is so jumpy around me. I love it.”

“You’re evil,” Aelin laughs.

“I prefer diabolical,” Lorcan replies. “Ah, and it looks like he just arrived,” Lorcan continues with a grin. “Want me to introduce you, so you can see it up close?”

Lorcan points in the direction of the sliding doors that lead out to the patio, and there, in all his tall blonde and board-shorted glory stands Rowan. Finally. But Aelin’s heart drops. Because Rowan isn’t alone. He’s arrived with a girl.

~*~*~*~*~

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[wewritesometimes]

Til’ The End

Written By: Cid

Warnings: Underage Drinking

Word count: 1.5k

Ship: DaiSuga

Daichi dangled his legs off of the balcony, music and excitable banter wafted upwards from the rowdy partygoers below him. Sugawara had insisted that he throw a party in order to celebrate their graduation. Watching the rest of the volleyball team mingle below him, Daichi couldn’t help but feel melancholic.

His accomplishments and goals he worked so hard for these last three years, everything was about to be swept away from him. College was a clean slate. A new chapter in his life that didn’t include Hinata and Kageyama’s bickering or Tsukishima’s snarky remarks. Without Nishinoya and Tanaka’s crazy antics. Without Asahi’s worrying. Without Suga…

The balcony door slid open, pulling Daichi out of his thoughts. Suga closed the door behind him, carefully balancing two cups in his hand. 

“I got us drinks!” He said, a bright smile stretching across his face. Suga passed Daichi one of the bright red solo cups he was balancing in his hand before gingerly sitting down next to him. Daichi mumbled his thanks, not quite meeting Suga’s gaze before taking a swig of the beer in his hand. Suga stared at him for a few moments before sighing, “Alright, fess up. What's wrong?”

 Daichi shook his head “I’m fine Suga, just thinking…” his voice trailed off, the weighty silence left behind only slightly being filled by the pounding rhythm from the speakers on the patio. 

Suga rolled his eyes, “If you're going to lie to me Dai, at least make an effort. Now seriously, tell me what’s wrong,” 

Daichi’s eyes stooped downwards once again, observing his underclassmen. “I’m gonna miss this…” he admitted quietly, as if he didn't acknowledge that this was likely the last time they would all be together, then it wouldn’t be. 

Suga let out a knowing hum. “Well,” he cast his eyes downwards to the backyard below them, “It’s not like you can’t visit!” Suga delivered a soft punch to Daichi’s shoulder, a small routine gesture whenever he was trying to cheer up his friend. Daichi let out a low hum, one of acknowledgment but not quite one of agreement. One that told Suga that he would have to do more to cheer up the now-former captain. Suga mindlessly chewed on his lower lip, trying to search for a solution to solve Daichi’s melancholic state. 

He had found the solution.

Nishinoya was clinging to Asahi’s arm, snuggled against the larger male as he interacted with his fellow teammates. Asahi’s face was flushed a bright rosy red, both from the alcohol and from Noya’s proximity, his eyes darting back and forth between the small brunette and a secluded corner of the backyard. 

 Suga nudged Daichi’s shoulder, pointing at their friends. “I bet you 1,000 yen that Asahi will ask Nishinoya out by the end of tonight,” he said, a smug smile stretching across his face. Sugawara was always so smug when he made a bet, especially if he thought he would win. 

“No way,” Daichi stared down at the duo, “Either Noya will tell him or Asahi is gonna chicken out.” As much as Daichi loved his friend, Asahi was a wimp and he was 100% certain that Asahi wouldn't confess.

Suga’s grin grew even wider. “Well then,” he stuck his hand out towards Daichi “Shake on it!” Daichi grabbed Suga’s hand, giving it a firm shake. He tried to ignore how soft and cool the setter's hand was compared to his calloused fingers. How nice it felt when he held Suga’s hand, even for a second. 

Daichi had opened his mouth to confirm the bet when a high pitched squeal cut through the air, followed by a splash. 

Hinata was quick to surface, his tangerine hair slick against his face as he began to sputter and cough as he made his way to the edge of the pool. Kageyama hesitated before he knelt down to check on his friend. A twinge of remorse ran through his veins for pushing the redhead into the pool. 

“Hey dumbass, are you okay?”

“REVENGE!”

Hinata grabbed the collar of Kageyama’s shirt, yanking him into the pool with all of his might. 

Daichi leaped to his feet, ready to reprimand his underclassmen. Ennoshita beat him to it, his voice rang through the boisterous laughter of everyone else at the party. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU TWO THINK YOU’RE DOING? GET OUT OF THE POOL!” Ennoshita’s words fell on deaf ears as Hinata and Kageyama began to viciously splash one another. 

 Suga grabbed Daichi’s hand, gently tugging him to sit back down. “Everything will be fine, Daichi, Ennoshita can handle it,” his voice was soft, full of affection for his friends as they watched Tanaka fling off his shirt and cannonball into the pool with a warcry, much to Ennoshita’s dismay. 

Daichi couldn’t help but chuckle at the chaos his team caused, “He’s gonna be a great captain,” Daichi sat next to Suga. At least he knew that the team was in good hands after he left. 

Suga quietly agreed as he rested his head upon Daichi’s shoulder, watching his teammates with the same level of intrigue and amusement as the crappily made rom-coms he forced Daichi to suffer through. 

Daichi felt like his face was on fire. He was certain Suga could hear how fast his hammering away in his chest or how all of his thoughts turned into Error: 404 as he went into a state of  ‘Gay Panic’

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, what was likely only a few seconds felt like a millennium to Daichi. Or at least that was until Suga let out an excitable gasp before smacking Daichi’s shoulder repeatedly with one hand and aggressively pointing down towards a smaller corner of the yard away from the rest of the team. 

Asahi was leading Nishinoya away from the rest of the group, his eyes trained anywhere but the smaller teens' faces. Nishinoya stared up at him wide-eyed, with an almost knowing smile on his face. 

“Oh my god, he’s actually gonna do it!” Suga whispered as if the pair could hear him. 

Daichi couldn’t make out what Asahi was saying. All he could see was that he was speaking and that he was looking at the ground rather intensely while he shuffled his feet, shifting his weight from side to side. That and Nishinoya’s smile was getting wider and wider by the second. So wide that Daichi feared his face would split in half. 

Asahi stopped speaking, squeezing his eyes tight in fear of rejection and that if he refused to look at Nishinoya he could pretend he didn’t just confess to his longtime crush. Or at least that was the plan until his eyes flew wide from the shock of feeling Nishinoya’s lips pressed against his own.

Suga jumped to his feet with jubilee. “YES!” he screeched as if his favorite team just won the winning goal of the final game in the season. He whipped around to face Daichi, grinning wildly. 

“You owe me 1,000 yen and you gotta buy me spicy mapo tofu from that one market I like!”

“Wait, that wasn’t part of the deal you can’t just-”

“Too bad! You’re buying me food whether you like it or not!”

Suga plopped down next to Daichi again, happily finishing off the rest of his mixed drink. Daichi didn’t know why he kept making bets with Suga. He always lost. Despite losing, Daichi felt a sense of pride as he watched Nishinoya and Asahi separate. Tanaka ran over to the duo, high-fiving Noya, and shaking him vigorously with excitement. Daichi’s eyes drifted over to Asahi, who was staring up at him. One eyebrow quirked upwards in an expression that seemed to read ‘Your turn’

Fuck… Daichi thought to himself. Asahi was right. If wimpy Asahi was able to confess, then so should he, right? Otherwise, well, that made him more cowardly than his anxious gentle giant of a friend. 

Daichi took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves before speaking. 

“Hey, Suga?”

Fuck. His voice cracked. 

Suga turned to look at him, his head cocked to the side.

“Listen… I really care about you and before we leave for college I have to be honest with you. You’re my best friend and well, ah… hm… You see it’s just that I really wanna stay in touch cuz I uhm- wait why are you laughing?” 

Suga’s shoulders jerked up and down with giggles he was failing to suppress behind his hand. His laughter quickly died down. “Oh Dai, is that what you were worried about?” A small smile was left behind on his face, the kind he usually reserved for Asahi when he was stressing over small and insignificant problems. 

Daichi slowly began to realize how silly it all was. Of course they would stay in contact, of course they would visit one another. They were best friends! Daichi began to beat himself up mentally, for being so stupid when he felt Suga’s lips press against his cheek. 

“I’m not going anywhere Dai, you’re stuck with me til’ the end,”

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Meant To Be: Part 5

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drug use.

Word Count: 4,072

A/N: Y’all can thank @wings-of-a-raven for this one….

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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

“So… you’re just going back, then.”

“Damn it.” You groaned as you shoved the last of your clothes back in a box to ship them back to Los Angeles. “She called in the cavalry.” You glanced over at Colson, who was standing in the nursery that could strangely only be accessed through your room, before looking back to the door where your father was leaning against the door frame.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea, (Y/N)?” He asked. “Going back to him?”

“Excuse me?” You asked as you turned completely toward him. “Do I think it’s a good idea to go to LA to live with the father of my child? Is that what you’re asking me right now?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m asking you.” He said with a slow nod. “He wasn’t there for you, (Y/N). What makes you think he’s going to be there now?”

“Think the better question here would be where were you?” Colson asked softly as he carried a box full of toys out of the nursery to add to the stack that was temporarily destined for the small moving pod that was sitting in the driveway to be taken to his house the next day. “Because I left to save her and had I known about my son, that gap of time would’a been a lot shorter.” Your dad shut up relatively quickly since he hadn’t realized that your significant other was in the room as well, and Kels simply walked back into the nursery to finish packing.

“He’s got a point, you know.” You sighed as you grabbed another one of the rented plastic totes from the stack and set it on your bed to pack up the stack of laundry and photos off of your mom’s dresser (since yours was in a storage unit out in California.) “I love you, Dad but you turned your back on me when I got fucked up at your wedding. Mom when I dropped out, and Junior and Tabby did when I moved. The only person I’ve had by my side in the last ten years is Colson.”

“And who’s choice was that, (Y/N)? Huh?” Ross asked, harshly. “I don’t think you get it yet. Your actions are the reason we aren’t there…”

“No, you are the reason!” Colson shouted as he came out of the room, which startled Gage in his baby swing, and made him start to cry. “You’re her fucking father! The man that should have been by her fucking side no matter what!”

“Babe.” You tried as you picked up Gage to soothe him.

“What kinda man just abandons his fucking kid when she fucks up?”

“Baby…”

“She needed you, old man!” He roared as he stepped toward your father and you quickly stepped between the two men and put your hand on his chest.

“Colson, look at me. Hey…” You gave him a firm push, which didn’t move him far, but it was enough to get his attention. He huffed and put one of his hands on yours on his chest as the other went to your hip to pull you back a step away from your dad.

“And this is the kinda man you want to be around? This violent thug?”

“Fuck you, dick!”

“Colson! Walk it off!” You growled as you moved your hand and grabbed his chin. You yanked hard, and guided his eyes to his own crying son. “Take him, please. We have a flight to catch and we have to get this shit out to the storage box before we go. And I can’t do that shit by myself if you’re making our son cry when he should be napping.”

“You’re right.” He said as he physically relaxed in the safety of the nursery. “You and your fucking Jedi mind shit.”

“Just take your son, please.” You sighed with a smirk. “I have to cover your slack now, too.”

“Jesus, bitch! Ain’t that fucking hard to be a mom.” He teased as he quickly stepped out of your reach.

“Fucker!” You barked as you kicked him hard in the butt cheek. “Get him back to sleep. I’m gunna carry this stack up.” You paused in the doorway and looked at your father with your eyebrow raised. “What? It surprises you that the tattooed, piece of shit thug is that passionate about me when my own family only cares when my son got involved?” You gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded your head as you picked up two boxes and stood in front of your dad until he moved. 

“He’s my family.” You said to him as you stoped by his side for a moment longer. “And I love him. So yes, I’m going with him to California, then I think somewhere overseas for his tour. Not sure. But I’ll be… we will be with him as a family. One that doesn’t turn their backs on loved ones no matter what.” With a slight bob of your head goodbye, you turned and headed toward the stairs to finally finish packing the POD so you could catch your flight.

——

You weren’t exactly sure how you forgot the insanity, but when Gage’s bedtime came and went, and the party was still raging down stairs, you quickly realized that raising a child in Colson’s house was going to be a very difficult challenge. You didn’t want to be ‘that bitch’ that came in and tried to change his lifestyle but the later it got and the more Gage cried, the more pissed off you were. You were at least glad that Kels had a small balcony off his master bedroom, which helped damper the sound, but even so, Gage would not fall asleep. Which is exactly why you found yourself, sitting on a slightly broken lounge chair, with your six month old laying on your chest, watching the Wiggles on the baby channel on your phone at three in the morning.

“Stupid fucking Wiggles.” You grumbled softly under your breath as your son laid peacefully, mesmerized by the bright colors on the screen. “Shit’s like a bad fuckin’ acid trip. Who the fuck though this was a good idea anyways? Should be fucking banned…” Your words were cut off by the deafening rumble of a chainsaw, which made you lurch to your feet.

“Oh no!” You shouted as you ran through the house with Gage once again screaming in your ear since either the sound, or your quick movement startled him. Your heart raced in your chest because you knew, at this late hour, there were enough drugs and alcohol involved in this situation to kill an elephant and that someone was gunna get seriously hurt with that chainsaw. 

“Colson!” You roared as you ripped open the front door and moved Gage to your hip. Your boyfriend whipped around to look at you with wide, panicked eyes as he let the chainsaw in his hand putter to a stop. You shook your head and hiked your son up a little bit more as words escaped you. ‘No’ was all you managed to say before you turned around and slammed the front door behind you. You started all over again with calming your son down as you headed back upstairs, and the front door opened a few moments before you slammed the bedroom door closed behind you.

“OK.” You soothed as you laid Gage down in your arms and started to bounce him gently to calm him down again. “I know, baby boy. Mommy’s not happy either.”

“Babe.” Colson said softly as he came into the room, which made you instantly round on him with rage in your eyes.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” You screamed as you continued to bounce. “A fucking chainsaw?! Colson, you are so fucking high, I don’t even think you could tell me what Gage’s middle name is…”

“Michael.” He interrupted, daringly as he closed the bedroom door.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” You screamed as you set Gage down in his rocker. “It’s three in the Goddamn morning and your son has been up here screaming for HOURS! So don’t you dare think you can get smart with me right now!”

“Yo, I’m…”

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it!” You countered over him as you stuck your finger in his face, angrily. “You are the one that wanted us here. You are the one that wanted to be a fucking father. So fucking act like a fucking father and let your Goddamn son go to fucking bed already! He’s exhausted from the time change, I’m exhausted from listening to him scream, and you’re downstairs snorting coke like it’s the fucking 80’s again. Get your fucking shit together, Kels.” You slammed your finger into his chest so hard, you heard your knuckle crack and he reached out and quickly grabbed your wrist before you could turn away.

“OK.” He said simply with a nod of his head, knowing that this was not the time to piss you off because you would swing on him. “My bad. I’ll wrap it up and come help get him to sleep. I’m sorry, baby girl.”

“You fucking better be.” You barked as you ripped your arm out of his grip and went back to pick up your son. “Goddamn chainsaw. It’s three in the fucking morning and you dumb mother fuckers are running a fucking chainsaw. Fucking idiots.” Kels watched you step back onto the patio with a shake of your head, and after a moment, he turned and quickly headed down stairs.

“Yo, parties over.” He called out as he turned down the music.

“The fuck?!”

“Dude, you just got back…”

“Yea, and I got a screamin’ son and a pissed off baby mama upstairs that need to get some sleep. So keep your shit down because I don’t feel like getting fucking stabbed tonight.”

“Dude.” Baze laughed as he poured himself another drink. “When’d you get fucking whipped?”

“When I had a fucking kid, dog.” Colson snapped as he grabbed two beers from the fridge in hopes that they would be a good start of a peace offering. “When I became a fucking parent. That’s when I got fucking whipped.” With a shake of his head, he grabbed some weed from the bag the counter and headed out of the kitchen to calm you down. “And keep the fucking music down!” He called out over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. He slipped into the room as silently as he could and cringed when he heard Gage still whimpering on the patio.

“Here, baby girl.” He tried as he set the beers and the bud down on the bed on his way outside. “Give him here. Go smoke…”

“Why do you do this to me, Colson?” You asked as you turned around toward him with tears in your eyes. “Huh? Why do you constantly make me the bad guy?”

“Babe, it’s not like that.” He sighed as he gently took Gage from your arms.

“But it is.” You sighed as you walked past him. “Because I know the crew enough to know they called you pussy whipped for wanting to get my son to bed at a reasonable hour. I know that being up here to do something other than getting laid right now is the last thing you want to be doing when there’s at least a half dozen half naked skanks downstairs. And I also know that every minute for the last seven hours, I wanted to be down there partying it up with friends I haven’t really seen in a year…”

“So why didn’t you?”

“What and let him just scream up here all by himself?” You snapped as you flopped down on the bed and cracked open one of the beers. “What kind of mother would that have made me? And don’t you dare say you could have stayed up here with him because we both know you would have lost your shit.” With a heavy sigh, Colson sat down on the bed beside you and moved Gage to lay on his chest comfortably.

“I’m trying, (Y/N).” He said as he looked over at you with a small shake of his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“And you think I do? Colson, I’m literally in the same boat as you here. But I can tell you this much for damn sure, we need to find a fucking medium because if night one of us being here was any fucking indication of what it’s gunna be like to live with you again, then I’m taking Gage and finding my own place again and we can figure out some kind of co-parenting shit.”

“No, please.” He said quickly as he sat up a little bit in fear. “Please, I just got you back…”

“Then fucking meet me in the middle here, Kels.” You interrupted as you gestured to the two of you with your finger. “Us as parents, and us as partiers. Because we can’t live on two different pages in the same house. I can’t be a mom and your booty call when you want it while you party it up with our friends. We’re gunna fucking resent each other for that shit real quick and it is gunna tear us apart.”

“And I swear baby girl, I will figure out how to do that ASAP. Just fucking bear with me, OK? I’ll get us there.”

“You better.” You sighed as you got up to grab his bowl from the entertainment center. “And no more Goddamn chainsaws, you hear me?”

“Don’t you wanna hear the idea…”

“No!” You interrupted as you grabbed the weed off the bed and stepped out onto the balcony. “Shit was probably stupid as fuck.”

“It really was.” He chuckled as he laid back down with Gage on his chest so he could sooth him to sleep. “But it was funny as fuck all the same.”

——

“Hey (Y/N).” Colson said as softly as he could as he kneeled on the bed beside you and ran his fingertips through your hair. You growled at him for waking you up just a few hours after you went to bed and pulled the blanket up over your head.

“Unless you or Gage is dying, you better get the fuck away from me, Colson or I will fucking stab you again.”

“No one is dying.” He chuckled as he very carefully pulled the blanket back. “But you, me, and Gage are gunna go to a hotel for a couple days. I have a surprise but it’s gunna keep you and him up for a couple days…”

“I fucking hate you.” You groaned as you opened your eyes to look up at him. “What’s the surprise?” 

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Come on. I already packed us up a bag, and fed and changed Gage. Just gotta get you dressed.”

“I’m dressed enough.” You sighed as you sat up and rubbed your hand down your face. You glanced down at the ‘Bloom’ shirt that showed most of your tattooed side thanks to the sleeves and most of the under arm holes being cut out, and nodded. “Fuck it, I’m in LA.”

“OK, you at least need pants.” He laughed as he handed you the pair of jeans he had grabbed from your suitcase. “And shoes.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you heated up a bottle all by yourself?” You asked incredulously as you pulled on your jeans and looked at your tired little boy in his crib from your storage unit in the corner.

“Without the microwave, too.” He said proudly as he held out your sunglasses. “Come on, it’s gunna get really loud in here real soon.” With a heavy sigh, you went over to pick up Gage as Colson grabbed your bag and the car seat. You headed out of the room and nearly tripped over Rook, who was coming out of his bedroom with a large pile of his clothes in his arms.

“Where are you going?”

“Keep walkin’, Uber’s waitin’.” Colson said behind you as JP continued down the hall in front of you. You sighed and did what you were told, too tired to care anymore. You were beyond grateful that he picked a hotel close by and had pulled some strings to get a quiet room, because by the time you got into said room, you had just enough time to pull off your jeans, and put Gage down on the bed beside you before you were back asleep. He let you sleep for the better part of the day before he gently woke you up by running his finger down the bridge of your nose.

“Hey sunshine.” He cooed with a smile. “If you sleep any more, you’re not gunna be able to sleep tonight.” You whined and rolled over on to your back, startling the slightest bit when Gage was laid down on your chest. His giggle made a smile pull at the corner of your lips and you opened your eyes to see his blue eyes staring back at you.

“Well hi there handsome.” You cooed as you put your hands on his back to keep him from rolling off you. “Did you have a fun day with Daddy?”

“We went down to the pool.” Colson said with a smile as he laid down against your side. “And we went swimming for a little bit. Then we went to the atrium and looked at all the plants… and we took some pictures for Mommy and let Mommy catch up on sleep because Daddy’s a fuck head.”

“Daddy is a fuck head.” You giggled as you tilted your head to the side a bit to look at Gage’s new hair style. “And giving out free mohawks?”

“Well I knew you would be pissed if I cut it and he was starting to look a little androgynous…”

“Ooo, big word.”

“Fuck you.” He grumbled as he reached up and fixed the ‘hawk. “So I made my son look bad ass.”

“I would have killed you if you cut his hair.” You said with a small nod as you looked over at him. “But I’m digging the mohawk.”

“It’s fucking bad ass.” He chuckled with a smile. “We’re gunna have to get special EST shit for him since 19 doesn’t work.”

“We both need new tattoos.” You said with a nod as you poked the 19XX tattoo on his collarbone that matched the one across your hip bone. “Fuck, now I want a new tattoo.”

“We should get matching tats for Gage.”

“What the fucking six we already have ain’t enough for you?”

“Bitch.” He groaned as he flicked you in the temple. “Keep that shit up and I’ll call the sitter back and you can order fucking pizza for dinner of some shit.”

“What sitter?” You snapped as you looked over at him with your eyebrow raised. “I’m not leaving him…”

“Relax.” He said as he propped his head up on his fist. “I called Ashleigh. She’s got a niece and she used to baby sit when she was younger all the fucking time. I trust her not to fuck up our kid.”

“Colson, that in no fucking way, shape, or form reassures me.”

“Oh fucking suck it up.” He laughed as he pushed himself up. “We’re going up the fucking block to dinner to get on the same fucking page about shit, OK? Now get your ass up, get into that smokin hot black dress that makes that ass look so fucking good, and let’s go fucking eat some fucking steak like a couple’a sexy carnivores.”

“I’m not going.” You said with a shake of your head as you held Gage to your chest a little tighter.

“Yes… you are.” Colson said, simply as he came over and picked up his son. “Hey, little man. You gunna stay with Ash tonight so Daddy can smooth talk Mommy into his pants again?”

“Richard Colson Baker!” You snapped as you got out of bed and whipped around to look at him. “No sexcapades talk to the baby!”

“Oh, Daddy’s getting lucky tonight.”

——

“Kels! Kels, over here!”

“(Y/N)! Are you finally going back to Penthouse?”

“Where’s your son?”

“Here, baby. Over here.” Colson said softly as he let go of your hand and put it on the small of your back. “Guys! Can you fuckin’ move and let her walk, please?!” You stuttered a bit and stopped walking when someone with a giant camera stopped at the curb in front of you.

“Guys, please?” You asked as you put your hand up in front of your face to shield your eyes from the camera flashes to look for the town car that was supposed to be picking you up.

“Yo, fucking move!” Kels roared as the camera people kept taking their photos and not giving a damn about either of your privacy as they fought to get one of the first photos of you and Colson out in public together. Your hand flew out to catch his fist before he swung on the man with the camera in your face.

“I won’t ask you again.” You growled evenly as you stepped around the photographer.

“Babe!” Colson shouted as he grabbed your arm and yanked you back on the sidewalk as the car came screeching to a stop where you had just been standing and only a few inches away from the man with the camera. You stumbled into his chest and the paparazzi actually stopped taking pictures for a moments. “Go, go.” Colson said quickly as he ran in front of you and ripped open the back door of the car. You sprinted on your toes in your heels and ducked around him into the car at the same moment the photographers started to take their photos again.

“Drive!” You said as Kels slammed the door behind himself. ��Just drive!” You ducked your head below the seat and realized that you were actually panting to catch your breath as Colson whipped around and cupped your face in his hands.

“Holy fuck… are you OK? Jesus, come here.” You shook your head as he pulled you into his arms with a heavy sigh. “Fuck, that fucking car was right there.”

“I’m fine.” You sighed as you sat up and flipped your hair back. “Jesus, Colson. I said yes to dinner, not to being fucking mauled.”

“OK, are you at least fucking OK? Scared the fucking shit outta me.”

“How the fuck did they even know we were staying at a fucking hotel?”

“Because I was down in the fucking lobby with Gage.” Colson sighed as he leaned back against his seat. He gave the driver the address of the restaurant and huffed as he looked over at you with a smile. “At least you look hot.”

“You’re an asshole.” You laughed as you pulled your phone from your bag to check your hair and makeup. “Knew I should have stayed in bed with my son.”

“Wrong. You get to party it up with me instead starting right now. Yay!” You looked over at him and did a double take as he shook a small vial of coke between his fingers.

“Wait, you’re serious?” You hissed as you glanced up at your man.

“You quit breastfeeding just this week.” He said as he unscrewed the vial. “And I want my party girl back. Even if it is for one night.” You bit your cheeks to hide your smirk as he poured out a bump on his hand and held it out between the two of you. “Come on, baby. Fly with me.”

“You are a very, very bad influence.” You whispered as you carefully pulled his hand up a bit to snort the coke down. You shivered at the distantly familiar burn and sniffled as you sat up straight. “Bad influence, Colson. So, so bad.”

“How the fuck else did we get Gage?” He teased as he did a bump himself before pouring one more out for you. “Quick, we’re here.”

“Horrible.” You muttered as you did the last bump. “Fuck, that’s good shit.”

“Welcome home, baby girl.” Colson said as he slid the vial into the nice leather jacket he had on. “Welcome home.”

Part 6

[tuffduff]

I Think About You (Axl Rose x Reader)

Pairing: Axl x plus sized/tall Reader

Words: 1847

Request: @soggy-enchilada​ “So I was wondering if you could do one for a tall plus size reader? Reader is a roadie for gunners and has a huge crush on axl but doesn’t tell him coz she feels that she’s too tall and too fat for him, but little does she know he’s super into her. And one night they have an after-gig party and everyone ends up getting a little (a lot) drunk and somehow reader and axl confess their feelings for each other. Reader tells him that she never said anything because she was insecure about being tall and plus size and he just tells her he loves her”

A/N: this is a tiny bit longer (oops) but i really loved writing it! Thank you for requesting this love, I hope y’all like it! 💕

“Nice shirt, darling.” You almost dropped the box of merchandise you were carrying because you knew exactly who’s voice that was.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, glancing down at your Nazareth t-shirt. Axl was smirking at you, accompanied with Duff and Slash as they got ready for their performance that evening.

“Do you need help with that?” Duff offered. Before you could reply, Axl pressed a hand to Duff’s chest.

“She’s a strong woman, Duff—she does this all the time. Haven’t you seen her?” Duff looked dumbfounded.

“No.”

That was probably what most people thought of you, or rather didn’t—you were one of the people that made the magic happen behind the scenes. You had worked your way up working for road crews in the music scene up until this point, where you were a production coordinator. Really though, you helped wherever you were needed. It was a taxing job that often kept you awake and on your feet from the early morning hours until well after midnight, but there wasn’t anything else you would rather be doing.

Axl was the first member in Guns N’ Roses to take the time to know your name. You figured it was just out of politeness when he had first asked, but he remembered it each time he saw you after. He’d always ask you how you were doing, what you were listening to nowadays, making sure you ate something. The conversation would slip deeper, with him asking your opinion on how he sang certain lines, or what you thought of current world affairs, what your favorite childhood memory was. It was your favorite moments in your long days.

“Yeah, get the fuck outta here. She doesn’t want your help.” Slash added in good-naturedly, giving Duff a light shove.

“Hey, are you going to the after-party tonight?” Axl asked you. You paused, balancing the box on your hip.

“Um...I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I better see you there,” for a second you grew hopeful. “You work too hard.” He headed down the hall of the coliseum in the opposite direction after that without looking back, making you sigh a little to yourself. It’s not like you wanted to get your hopes up every time he so much as looked your way, you just couldn’t help it with him.

So many nights you spent your rare breaks of free time just watching Axl perform. He was lightning in a bottle, captivating, strong, and admired, so very admired. Girls in the crowd would lose their minds over them, and you had to watch night after night as those girls made their way backstage. Some of the most beautiful girls you had ever seen. Sometimes, models and actresses would show up at the shows in hopes of bedding a rock and roll bad boy. You always just watched from a far; it’s not like Axl would ever notice you in a sea of extraordinary women.

Slash approached your side and you immediately tried to ignore him, huffing when he nudged you.

“You better come tonight!”

“I’ve got a long night ahead of me with a million more important things to do than get drunk off my ass.” You lied. Slash’s easygoing demeanor remained intact.

“But he wants you to come, you heard him!” You rolled your eyes and shushed him, making him laugh. He was probably your best friend out of the Guns and the only person that knew your fondness towards his lead singer.

“No, he doesn’t. He just thinks I’m some boring stiff that works too hard.” Slash shoved your shoulder now, almost making you drop the box.

“Don’t be such a downer. C’mon, he doesn’t think that.”

“Okay, Slash. You know him; what makes you think he’s interested in me at all?” He stood for a moment in silence. “Exactly what I thought.

“Hey! That’s just because I don’t really know what Axl thinks of anything—he’s fucking weird. Not because he wouldn’t be interested. I think he’s got his eye on someone though; every time some girl tries to approach him lately, he just brushes them off. And besides, that’s like the 3rd time he’s complimented you in the last two days.” You rolled your eyes again, chuckling in exasperation.

“Slash, trust me. It’s not me he’s thinking of. And what, are you keeping count?”

“Axl doesn’t just hand out compliments, Y/N. Yesterday it was your hair. Plus, so what if he’s not interested—we finally have a couple days off. You don’t have anything to do. Just let loose and have some fun tonight, alright?” You pondered his words for a moment. He had a point, and you didn’t exactly have a reason not to go.

So, you went. And immediately, you wanted to leave. There were so many people crammed into such a small hotel room. All the girls were positioned around various members of the band, so much so that you couldn’t even see the boy’s faces. You immediately grew self-conscious—these girls were dressed to kill in tiny skirts and halter tops and leather, petite and slender and dainty little things you could hold in your hand. It just made you feel out of place. You turned on your heel, hoping to just slip out unnoticed, until someone grabbed your arm.

“Look who made it!” You groaned at Slash’s drunk voice. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.” You replied back, trying to get your arm out of his grip.

“But why, Axl was just asking about you.” You froze.

“Axl? Was asking about me?” Slash grinned at you, handing you a bottle of beer.

“Yep, he sure did.” Your stomach did a flip and you downed almost the entire beer in one gulp. God, why did you show up?

You stayed begrudgingly, glued to Slash’s side and guzzling more beer in the hope of finding courage and not finding Axl, at least not yet. The comfort of being Slash’s shadow didn’t last for long—he was soon pulled to the couch by three girls.

You looked around the room, overwhelmed but the amount of people and decided the empty balcony was a much better place to hide and try to get a handle on your emotions.

The fresh air was well needed, enough to calm your head and frayed nerves. You leaned against the railing and looked out below at the sparkling lights, trying to get Axl out of your head. Clearly, Slash had just been trying to make you feel better on account of you hadn’t even seen Axl all night—

“I like it much better out here, don’t you?” You yelped and jumped at the same time, accidentally dropping your half-empty beer to the streets below. Axl was sitting in one of the patio chairs hidden in the completely darkened corner of the balcony. He let out a laugh as you looked back and forth from the streets below, to him, dismayed.

“Axl? What the fuck! Have you been out here this entire time?” He finally stopped laughing and stood, joining your side by the railing.

“Beats all those coattail riders in there. It’s nicer out here.” He was standing so close to you that your arms were touching. You swallowed a little, deciding not to move away. He didn’t even seem to notice your proximity, instead, he merely leaned forward a little, looking down at the street below with an amused half-grin. “I hope your beer didn’t kill anyone...” You chuckled weakly, feeling your heart pound in the silence that followed. “I’m surprised you showed up.” He finally said. When you glanced over at him, he was looking down.

“Why, do you think I’m too boring for parties?” You blurted out. The sober, rational part of you cringed, but it was too far buried at the moment to dwell on it.

“No, I think you’re too good for these parties.” You frowned. “I mean, you’re a smart, responsible woman. I’m sure you’ve got far more important things to be doing with your time that watching a bunch of lousy rock stars party with a room full of people who don’t really care about them.” There was a bitter edge to his tone. You continued to frown.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” You replied back curtly. Now, he frowned. You sighed; the conversation was getting muddled and it was clear you weren’t on the same page. “I don’t really get invited to parties, Axl. I’m not really the girl that guys break their necks over.”

“What makes you say that?” You let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“Well...look at me.”

“I have been. Every chance I get.” You stopped, confused at the way he was beginning to smirk.

“Stop that.” You told him.

“Stop what?” You rolled your eyes.

“Guys don’t like me.” You continued where you had left off.

“And what makes you think that?” He asked, his smirk from before only widening.

“Think? Axl, I know. Ever since I was younger, I was either too tall or too fat in every guy’s eyes.” You snapped. His smirk didn’t fade. “Will you wipe that look off your face?”

“That’s just funny to me.” He mused. You raised your eyebrows at his audacity. “All those men are assholes, first off. Secondly, I invited you here, didn’t I? And third…I can’t imagine being that fucking stupid because you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Your mouth literally fell open and you waited for him to start laughing, but he didn’t. In fact, he just moved closer.

“...What?” You managed to get out.

He smiled fully now, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re also the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, the way you take care of everyone else before yourself. You’re cute when you get embarrassed—which happens all the time—just like right now. You’re funny, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever talked to, you listen to me when I have something to say. And I’m pretty sure I fall for you a little more every day.”

“But...I’m sorry, what did you say?” You replied breathlessly.

You felt butterflies set loose in your tummy when Axl leaned in closer to you. His lips brushed against yours as he whispered to you, “I want you, Y/N. I’ve wanted you for a long time.” He drew back a tiny bit, watching to see what you were going to do. Despite the tiny voice in your head trying to hold you back out of fear, you told it to shut the hell up for once and kissed him back. You felt his lips smirk against yours and a tingly little trill go up your spine when he let out a low groan into your kiss.

“I think I’m falling for you too, Axl.” You pulled back to say. He grinned and stepped back a little, his eyes traveling down your body.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he suggested, taking your hand in his. “Seeing you in that outfit tonight only has me wanting to rip it off.”

[gayoperatorgunclub]

Hi, we have yet to officially meet on Discord and I wanted to say welcome to the group. I noticed that you are open for asks, so I was wondering if you could tell me about your opinion of the Rook x Doc pairing and some hcs? If it bothers you then it's okay I understand

hi!!!!! thank you so much for the warm welcome!!! ALSO thank you for respecting my personal opinion and comfort about rook x doc!!!!! since i really like the possibility for a sort of father/son relationship between them, i’ve done some hcs from this list for them. you can read it as romantic if you want, but i’m really just vibing with these ones. i hope you enjoy!!!!

How do they feel about people shorter/taller than them? - gustave is completely comfortable with his height. he’s tall enough to not get made fun of, and short enough to be able to be comfortably held by his s/o. julien, on the other hand, will threaten every operator who’s taller than him. he has leaped onto oryx’s shoulders from above, attempted to tackle sledge, decided he would only spar against amaru, and, when drunk, has tried to perform WWE moves on montagne. he is the epitome of “i will beat you the fuck up. no cap. *punching noises* bitch.” 

What are they like on social media? (What’s their username, profile pic, etc.) - gustave knows how to operate social media, and is familiar with certain niches on many of them, but doesn’t have any accounts of his own. he just doesn’t really care enough. there is a fanpage of him on instagram, courtesy of twitch and julien. speaking of, julien has an account on twitter, instagram, snapchat, and vsco, and is extremely active on all of them. here’s what he uses them for:

twitter: shitposting and venting

instagram: aesthetics and vaguely confusing/threatening updates on his life

snapchat: chaos videos of him and twitch being bastardous

vsco: aesthetics and horse pics

Their sexuality? - gustave is either gay or bi (really just depends on the mood, just understand that he is under no circumstances straight. he’s just not. don’t do him dirty like that) and julien is gay but drinks an infinite amount of respect women juice (gustave does too but he also gets pegged by his hypothetical gf so 👀👀👀) 

Preferred weather? - gustave absolutely ADORES rainy weather. people have found him lying face down on the patio during thunderstorms, just. vibing. meanwhile, julien loves it when the weather’s sunny and warm, with fluffy white clouds in the sky. his ideal date is a picnic out on a prairie where they can cloudgaze, and maybe, if they stay long enough, stargaze as well

What’s their sleeping schedule? - gustave has no sleep schedule to speak of. when he next collapses is purely up to the gods. he has slept for 72 hours straight, and he’s gone a week on several well-timed 30 minute power naps. julien, meanwhile, is a bit of a health nut, so he is very serious about his schedule, specifically, when he eats, excercises, sleeps, wakes up, everything has a specific time slot. at the same time, he can and will get up in the middle of the night for a snack, prompting gustave to set up a surveillance system with speakers so if julien tries to eat their supply of ice cream, gustave can yell at him. this has led to julien avoiding the kitchen after dark because “god resides there after-hours” 

Favorite music? - gustave likes classic and new wave rock (think the Beach Boys, Queen, The Talking Heads, David Bowie, Elton John, The B-52′s, Depeche Mode, and many others) but he also really likes music in general, so he doesn’t have a real favorite. julien will only listen to a genre he describes as “gay yearning and longing with hints of faerie and cottagecore aesthetics” so, hozier and cavetown. 

How’s their cooking? - gustave is a culinary mastermind and julien nearly burnt down the kitchen making microwave ramen

It’s movie night, what movie do they pick? - i think it was @juduseye that wrote about gustave loving Casablanca, and honestly that hc is 🔥🔥🔥. i think julien would pick a movie like Princess and the Frog, Mulan, Atlantis, and other movies from disney’s “weird” period

How would they hold up in a pillow war? - they are masters of pillow warfare. they are sworn allies, and team up against everyone else in rainbow. they win every. single. time

What’s their sleeping position? - gustave is either starfished out on his bed, or curled up around whoever he’s in bed with. julien sleeps on his stomach, cuddling with his pillow

Who do they go to for comfort? - EACHOTHER 🥺🥺🥺

Something small that they enjoy? - gustave loves his collection of plushies and fleece blankets, and julien is VERY proud of his model train collection 

How do they feel about physical contact by others? - they both welcome it with open arms. they’re built like friends. made to cuddle. certified to be huggable. in some countries, they’re actually registered therapy animals 

What is enough to bring them to tears? - for gustave: loss, death, and thinking about that one comic of a meteor with a hat that says “i heart dinos” holding a map of “dinosaur world” (earth) and looking so excited BUT IT’S THE METEOR THAT CAUSED THE EXTINCTION OF THE DINOSAURS AND IT DOESN’T KNOW THAT IT CAN’T VISIT THEM BECAUSE IT’LL CAUSE THE DINOSAURS TO DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i also start crying whenever i think about that fucking comic) 

julien: same as gustave but add people having low expectations of him, making fun of how young he is, and sarah mclachlan commercials

Biggest pet peeve? - Bigotry. and chewing with your mouth open

How well do they take care of themselves? - they both claim to be self sufficient but gustave legally can’t drive and julien tried to soften butter in a microwave but ended up with an electrical fire

What’s something they like that may be surprising to others? - gustave adores fashion niches, and julien knows everything about the legend of zelda

Do they consider others family? - uhhhhhhhhh, YEAH

Any bad habits that they have? - gustave: no sleep, blames himself for everything, is lactose intolerant but eats ice cream daily 

julien: midnight snacks, yelling at the tv, fighting anyone taller than him

What’s their idea of a perfect vacation? - for gustave, either a trip to a city with a lot of historical sites and museums, or a trip to his family beach house. vibe. chill. fuck nonstop. for julien, hawaii. that is all 

Do they get lost easily? Will they ask for directions if they are? - gustave will never admit it, but he gets lost walking in a straight line. he gets distracted!! undiagnosed adhd check! julien knows where things are and how to get to them, based on other places and landmarks, but he really couldn’t tell anyone else how to get somewhere 

The strangest thing they have ever seen? - gustave once walked in on tachanka in drag. now they watch drag race together. julien is consistently the one to find gustave lying face down on the balcony during thunderstorms. it’s worrying

How well do they accept advice? - gustave is too nice to say anything to someone’s face, but unless you’re one of the very few people he trusts enough to accept advice from, he has to resist the urge to do the opposite of what you advise. meanwhile, julien is constantly receiving advice, but in reality, he’s one of the most wise people in rainbow. it’s just that he says things like “take it easy. BUT TAKE IT” that make people think he’s a hot mess

How much do they swear? - gustave will only swear in worst case scenarios (which are more common than he cares to admit), and julien likes seeing the scandalized looks on people’s faces when they hear him cuss someone out 

Do they like being in pictures? - gustave will allow like three people to photograph him, because he likes their style and knows they won’t do him dirty with angles and such. julien is self-conscious about his smile, so he usually does it to em in group pictures

Is there anything they’re bad at? - gustave is terrible at pronouncing certain words, and julien doesn’t do well with limits

What’s their morning schedule? - gustave: wake up, pray, eat, go to work

julien: wake up, hit snooze (x10), be late for work 

Any past injuries? - gustave’s terrible computer posture has finally caught up with him, and now you won’t see him without an ice pack for his lower back, and julien is too young to have any chronic injuries, but he has broken his arm during training 

Something that disgusts them? - gustave hates long hair. it’s just so stringy and it makes him gag!!! he also hates stringy cheese because it makes him think of long strands of hair and all of a sudden he’s physically nauseous. julien can’t stand holes. trypophobia ass bitch 

[princessselene126]

Those Who Can’t Do 1: Senator

Here’s the first chapter of my tlc wedding planner au! I’m pretty happy with it so far, so let’s hope I can keep that ball rolling. 1507 words of intro. Cinder, Iko, and Winter live in an apartment together. If you don’t remember what each of their roles are, the basics are here. I’m too lazy to link next chapters at the bottom now, so when they do start coming out, just go back to the masterlist por favor.

Those Who Can’t Do Masterlist Empress Selene Masterlist

Cinder tried to give the young singer her best reassuring smile. “Look Ms. Darnel, I don’t want to get your hopes up. A lot of people don’t want live music any more because there isn’t as much variety as there is with a DJ. I’ll give you a call if anyone is looking, but I don’t want you to expect anything.”

Cress sighed from where she sat across Cinder’s desk. Her fingers anxiously twiddled in her lap the entire time they’d been talking. “I understand. But please, if anyone is even thinking about live music, give me a call.”

“I will,” Cinder promised. She sat up from her desk and shook Cress’s hand. “In the meantime, you might want to think about alternative employment options.”

“I know,” Cress said, sounding defeated.

Cinder gave her another smile. “If anything comes up, I’ll give you a call.”

“Thank you.”

Cinder opened the door for her. She watched as Cress walked back down the hallway with less pep in her step than when she first met her. She really hoped someone would come around wanting live music for Cress’s sake.

The phone on her desk rang, and Cinder walked over to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Cinder your three o’clock is here,” the receptionist said.

“Thanks, you can send them over.”

She hung up the phone, walked around the desk, and took a seat in her chair. Not even a minute later someone knocked on her door. “Come in.”

Cinder had to admit, she was surprised to see Senator Konn and his fiance walk through her door instead of the “Gonzalez-Hernandez” party. Quickly getting to her feet, Cinder held her hand out to him over her desk. “Senator Konn, it’s nice to meet you. You’re the last person I expected to see today,” she admitted. She then reached out to shake his fiance’s hand as well. Oh what was his name… Ling? 

He smiled at her. Despite his hair starting to gray, he was quite handsome. “Yes, my apologies about that. We thought it best to use different names otherwise the press might swarm your office.”

“I appreciate it.” She nodded to the chairs in front of her desk. “Please sit.” Senator Torin and his fiance--fuck, what was his name?--sat down across from her. “I have to ask, how did you hear about me?”

“You planned a wedding for a friend of ours last year, and when we got engaged I had to ask her who did it.”

Cinder smiled. “Well that’s good to hear. I like to make an impression.”

“Well, you definitely did,” the fiance said.

“Yes,” Konn agreed. “We’d love to hire you.”

That surprised her too. Usually Cinder had to show people pictures of the weddings she planned, had to butter them up and compliment their tastes. She’d never have someone want to hire her right off the bat.

“Really?”

“You seem surprised.”

“I am. Usually it takes a bit more time and convincing for someone to hire me.”

“We’ve already seen what you can do, so convincing isn’t necessary at all.”

“Alright then. Should we get started on some basic concepts?”

Cinder spent an hour talking with Senator Konn and his fiance--Ming Shi, she remembered--about wedding details. She was able to get some basic plans and determine what vendor’s she’d want to introduce them too. Overall a very successful first meeting. She started putting all her books away in her desk.

“I have a caterer that I think would be perfect for you,” Cinder said. “Would sometime next week work to meet her?”

Torin nodded his head. “I’m sure we can find time somewhere, would it be alright if my secretary gave you a call to schedule something tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Cinder grabbed a business card from off her desk. “This has my extension on it. I should be in all day tomorrow, if not they can leave a message and I’ll get back to them as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. It was wonderful to meet you, Ms. Linh.”

“You too, Senator, Mr. Shi.”

After a long day of calling vendors for other weddings, and making sure people were getting little details right, Cinder headed home. Rain poured from the New York sky, but thankfully she brought her umbrella that morning. The walk to the apartment she shared with her cousin and best friend wasn’t too far. Twenty minutes of walking through the rain and she was already at the doorstep.

Cinder fished the keys out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the door. She walked up four flights of stairs before making it to the apartment door. Once again, she unlocked it and stepped inside.

The smell of vegetables, soy sauce, and chicken greeted her. Iko stood in the kitchen, cooking stir fry by the smell of it. Jacin’s jacket was draped over one of the dining room chairs, which meant he was somewhere in the apartment, probably on the couch or balcony. No doubt Winter was with him.

“I’m home!” she called out to no one in particular. She started unbuttoning her coat and kicked off her flats.

Iko’s head turned around and she gave Cinder a smile. “Hey you. Just in time, I’m almost done with dinner.”

“It smells good.”

“Thanks. You mind getting the lovebirds? They’re out on the balcony.”

Cinder raised an eyebrow at her. “Did they finally--”

“Of course not.”

She sighed, long and deep. Winter and Jacin, her cousin and childhood friend, had been in love with each other since as long as Cinder could remember. Of course when they were children that love was platonic, but since high school it’d grown into something much deeper. THe only problem was that neither of them wanted to admit that they were in love, which meant Cinder and Iko had to painfully the not-couple flirt constantly.

“Yeah, I’ll go get them.” 

She walked past the kitchen to the living room, opening one of the storm door that lead to the balcony.

Winter and Jacin were sitting in the patio chairs watching the rain fall.

“Hey, guys.”

Jacin’s eyes widened momentarily and Cinder almost laughed. He looked like a deer in headlights, or like she’d caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. It made her wonder what on earth they’d been talking about. She didn’t ask though.

Winter looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Hello, cousin. Care to join us?”

“I’m good. Iko wanted me to let you know that dinner’s almost done.”

“Oh, yay!” Winter hopped up from her chair, grabbed Jacin’s hand, pulled him up, and dragged him inside with her.

Cinder stepped aside so they could get past her. She shook her head at them, annoyed and exasperated that neither would admit their feelings yet. It had to happen eventually, right? They wouldn’t go their entire lives without saying they love each other. Iko definitely wouldn’t let that happen.

Leaving the door open so they could listen to the rain, Cinder followed them to the table. When she got to the table, Winter just finished setting it. Jacin grabbed a bottle of wine and some glasses while Iko dished up their food. Soon they were all seated and eating. Winter and Jacin sat next to each other on one side while Iko and Cinder were on the other.

“So how was everyone’s day?” Iko asked.

“Wonderful,” Winter said with a bright smile. “I finished the dress for Sybil Mira.”

“So you never have to see that bridezilla again?”

“Nope.”

Jacin’s lips pulled up into the smallest smirk. “I’ll drink to that.”

Winter gently tapped her glass against his then took a sip of the white wine. “How was your day, cousin?”

Cinder finished chewing the piece chicken in her mouth and swallowed it. “Interesting. I thought I had a wedding with a latino couple, but Senator Konn and his fiance walked in instead.”

Iko’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. She almost looked like an old Saturday morning cartoon character. “Senator Konn as in… Torin Konn?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Iko got up from the table and went into the living room. She grabbed something off the coffee table before heading back and setting it down in front of Cinder. It was a magazine with a man about their age on the cover with Senator Konn.

“I need to do hair and makeup for this wedding so I can meet Kai Rikan. I have to, Cinder.”

She raised an eyebrow at her friend. “Iko… he’s just a guy.”

“Just a guy?” she gasped. “Cinder, look at him! He’s beautiful, and charming, and, aces, look at that smile. He has the best smile.”

Cinder glanced over at Jacin who wore the same uninterested expression she probably did. Winter, however, looked sly. “He does have a nice smile,” Winter agreed. “It wouldn’t hurt to suggest Iko so she can fulfill her dream of falling in love with a rich young heir.”

Iko winked. “Hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Cinder promised.

[andersoncharm]

If There Ever Was a Perfect Couple, This One Qualifies//Seblaine.

Para: If There Ever Was a Perfect Couple, This One Qualifies

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Seblaine.

When: Sunday, April 5, 2020. Early evening.

Location: Sebastian's Cambridge Apartment.

Notes: An evening in with Seblaine.

Warnings: Pineapple on pizza. Also, Blaine still can’t stop thinking of futures and weddings..

Blaine’s POV: 

Blaine hummed lightly to himself as he cut up little pieces of ham for the homemade pizza he was making for his and Sebastian's dinner. Normally it was bacon and onion for Seb but, his boyfriend was insistent that Blaine make them his favorite for once. He had to admit as he popped a fresh piece of pineapple into his mouth that he wasn’t upset by this idea. He absently threw a piece of the freshly cut ham to Ras who gobbled it up, but left Blaine alone after that with the promise of more later. Then Blaine even offered Freya a little chunk of pineapple. She sniffed it, turned up her nose giving him a distasteful look but, as soon as Blaine dropped it to the hardwood floor she snatched it up and sauntered away, disappearing out to the balcony patio. Because of course she wouldn’t want to eat the fruit out his hand. 

He was so focused on saucing the pizza crust with his own homemade version of BBQ that he jumped a little when long slender fingers reached over and snatched a piece of ham followed by a chunk of the pineapple. 

“Hey, hey. Stop that, Seb. You’ll ruin your dinner!” He laughed pushing Seb’s hand away playfully, looking up at his freshly showered boyfriend's signature smirk as he popped the two pieces of food into his mouth. His light brown hair, still wet and swept back so that Blaine could see the mischievous smirk in all its glory. And his stomach did the same little flip it always did in times like this when he was reminded that he got to love this man for the rest of his life, no matter how short that may be. The little butterflies that stirred whenever Seb was around started to flutter when he let himself think of a future like this. Maybe one where they both wore silver rings on their heart fingers and got to call themselves Mister and Mister. He sighed and mentally shook his head. Damn Sam for putting that freaking idea into his head. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since last weekend’s Skype call. He made sure to give Sam some hell when they spoke on the phone a few days ago.

“It’ll taste much better once it’s all done, you know.” He rolled his eyes and went back to his cooking, trying not to focus too much on Sebastian's so that he could get his thoughts in check. He’d probably fail.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian’s week had been a little hectic. He had been in the office everyday, going over court records and interviews, sitting in with the client his team was working with for a big case their professor was on. When Sebastian had won one of the coveted intern spots, Blaine had clapped and sang “So Much Better” from the Legally Blonde musical before covering his face and hands in kisses. Seb had smiled for days when he would think of the memory.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as fun or effortless as Elle Woods made it seem, he was just an irritating mix of tired yet over caffeinated. It had been two weeks and Seb and the team of interns weren’t finding any new leads. The professor they were supporting was getting more and more aggravated every day. Seb had actually been asked to leave earlier in the week because of his attitude. God, if his dad found out he was going to get fucking reemed. Sebastian was great at law school and had awesome grades and an intimidating reputation but, he was just...exhausted. 

Blaine coming over to cook a fresh pizza was a welcome respite from the piles of documents and the harsh blue glow of laptop screens and the trite moaning of Harvard law students. He took a hot shower, scrubbed his skin with a body elixir that Blaine had made for when he was stressed. The scent of ink and stale coffee fell from his skin and was replaced by notes of chamomile tea and fresh french lavender. He threw on an old Lacrosse tee shirt and some grey sweats before he followed the smell of pineapple to the kitchen. Sebastian could see Blaine working hard on the meal. It was a nice scene, he looked serene and in place. He popped a few of the ingredients into his mouth and giggled. 

“My dinner won’t be ruined. I’m starving. I haven’t had much besides crappy coffee lately.” Sebastian sneaked one more chunk of pineapple with a little laugh before he threw it up and caught it in his mouth. “This looks great, by the way.” He hopped up so that he was sitting on the counter opposite of his boyfriend and the ingredients. “How’re things? Feel like I’ve been stupidly busy lately.”

Blaine’s POV:

“Thanks, Seb. It’s not too fancy, but, I personally can’t wait to eat either.” Blaine sighed as he listened to Sebastian’s words of being busy and turned to put the rather incredible looking pizza into the preheated oven. He was pretty proud of this one, he had to admit. He closed the oven door and opened the refrigerator to retrieve two beers, one for him and one for Sebastian. They were fancy IPA’s that had some extreme name like Harpoon Leviathan and Blaine had to laugh to himself as he opened the tops of both and made his way over to Sebastian. He pressed himself into the space between Sebastian’s long legs and handed one of the IPA’s to his boyfriend and took a swig of his own, the coldness soothing as he swallowed. He tipped up onto toes and pressed a kiss to Seb’s lips before settling back down and leaning into Seb. His guy smelled like relaxation and it made Blaine smile that he was using his concoctions. 

“You have been. But, you’ve done great things lately and should be so proud of yourself. I know, it’s all discouraging right now but, think of what you’ve done as a win, yeah?” He smiled and pressed his head into Sebastian’s chest.

He could feel the exhaustion rolling off of the taller man in waves and wished for a moment that Sebastian was a little bit more open with Blaine using more magic on him. Sure, he allowed tonics and elixirs and enhanced tea sometimes. But, there was a slim chance that he’d let him brew something stronger to help him sleep or that he’d let him use healing magic from his hands at all. He didn’t need to be physically hurt to do that, mentally exhausted would be grounds for some healing but Seb was stubborn and still a little nervous when it came to magic. Blaine couldn’t blame him. He tried anyway.

“You should let me heal you tonight.” He mumbled into Seb’s chest. His beer clutched in his hand, pressed against his own chest. “It would help with your whole attitude and refresh you. I promise I won’t hurt you, you know that, right?”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian kissed his boyfriend, took a swig from the beer and inspected the label. It was slightly sweet and carmelly on the back of his tongue. “I know I’m doing well,” He ran his fingers up and down Blaine’s spine as he talked. “It’s just that point in the year where everything sort of swells.” Sebastian shrugged his shoulders and took another drink. “I’m sure your lessons are just as intense.” 

Seb ran a hand through his hair and stretched his back a little bit. He wasn’t scared that Blaine’s magic would hurt him, that wasn’t the problem. He was worried that he’d get attached and want to be healed or relaxed or wound up all of the time, that he would rely on the magic like a drug. Sebastian knew enough about himself to know that he had an addictive streak. He partied a lot when he was younger and made a lot of questionable decisions when he was living in Paris. “B, I know that you wouldn’t hurt me. I mean, I rarely even take Tylenol. Just coffee and the occasional cigarette for me. Sometimes we drink, obviously.” Sebastian really didn’t drink as much as he used to, he didn’t need to go out and party anymore. The two of them had even slowed down a bit from when they first got together and Sebastian was a nervous wreck who wanted to impress. 

 He shrugged his shoulders, chewed on his bottom lip and felt his cheeks redden with the slight heat of embarrassment. “I don’t want to make things all serious. I appreciate the offer, I always do. Just make me some tea before bed.” He cleared his throat and took another drink, the sweet taste a little more bitter now. “Tell me something new going on with you. There’s gotta be something witchy and interesting happening.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine shrugged, sure, he was busy. His father had taken to teaching him about cursed artifacts and Blaine was constantly in fear that he’d bring some curse home with him unknowingly. Lucky for him he was pretty intuitive and could usually sense something off. Plus, he was a good student, he paid attention even when he wanted to be playing music or anything else. He wasn’t really into the darker parts of magic. But, he knew he needed to pay attention. He needed to know how to fight the bad things off if they came for him or anyone he loved. He looked pointedly at Sebastian. “Sure, but it’s nothing you want to know about, trust me.”

Blaine could practically see the internal struggle as his boyfriend contemplated his offer. He knew he was going to say no, could feel it even as he offered it. But, he felt he needed to try. Sebastian worked so hard for everything and here Blaine was with a way to relax him and keep him sane. He wasn’t supposed to, of course, magic was for witches and potions and elixirs were for their human hunters who needed it from all the nightmares they were forced to see while in the field. He remembered Hunter’s fondness for Nightmare Stealing Sleeping Draughts. But it wasn’t for “normal” humans like Sebastian. But, Seb was Blaine’s and Blaine would do anything to keep him comfortable and safe. He chewed on his lip as he listened to him talk. 

Blaine sat his beer next to Seb’s thigh and reached up and cupped Seb’s heated cheeks and gave him a comforting soft smile. “Sure, Seb. You know I’d never use it on you without your consent again unless something were seriously wrong.” Blaine could count on one hand the number of times he’d used magic on Sebastian without asking first in the last year and a half. Seb knew about them now and was good with it,  but they made Blaine’s stomach drop thinking about them. The worst was their first night together Blaine had made Sebastian stay asleep so Sebastian wouldn’t wake up as he tried to cut him out of his life, and it had happened once on a date in public when Seb’s anxieties had taken over. And once more with some magical pomegranate that had led to a pretty intense and sexual night. The latter two weren’t so bothersome as Blaine mostly was calming the room where they were in one, and Sebastian had told him he ‘really enjoyed’ the night of the magical pomegranate. However, the first night still bothered him a little. He cleared his throat and tried not to think about it.

“Just know that the offer is there if you ever change your mind. And know that I wouldn’t overdo it. I just want you to be happy and comfortable. Tea it is. I’ll make sure to use my best batch of chamomile tonight.” He gave a grin trying to ease Sebastian’s apparent embarrassment before reaching and taking another swig of the sweet beer. He could stay in this position forever, the scent of sweet pizza and the pressure of Sebastian's legs resting beside him. His arms loosely around Sebastian. Forever reminded him of his conversation with Sam which reminded him that he did, in fact, have something to talk to Seb about. 

“Oh! Yes, I do have something going on. Not really witchy or anything but, remember how I told you my Skype with Sam was useless?” He blushed involuntarily thinking about marriage and children and Sam’s teasing him about Seb.  “Like, he couldn’t decide on a date or anything? Well, he called me on the phone yesterday and he’s picked a date finally. He’ll be in Ohio for Halloween to spend time with his family and then he'll be here in Boston the second week of November. He’d only be around a week and half so, we’ll still get to go to your mom’s for Thanksgiving.” He smiled, a little excited at the thought of Sam getting to meet Seb and wondering what Sebastian would  make of his eccentric best friend. “I’ve missed him so much the last few years, I have to admit I’m excited. You're either gonna love him or think he’s the weirdest person ever. Maybe a mix.”

Sebastian's POV:

“I know, B. I trust you. Not to sound cliche but, honestly, it’s not you. It’s me.” Sebastian gave a small smile and leaned in to give Blaine a kiss. “I’m perfectly fine with tea. I’ve grown a little fond of it, actually.” He finished his beer and set the glass bottle down on the counter beside his thigh. “Oh? He finally made a decision? That’s great. He’s uh, getting a hotel right?” Sebastian arched an eyebrow. The apartment was his, sure, but, Blaine basically lived there. He didn’t want any strangers getting the wrong idea. Seb didn’t even want Hunter spending the night as much as he did. He was very particular about his space.  “No cowboy boots under my couch, no thank you.” 

He cleared his throat and waved his hands, god he probably sounded so fucking rude. “Oh, yeah, I know you’ve missed him!” Sebastian already had a feeling he was going to find Sam a little hard to handle. He seemed like the living embodiment of an untrained, hyper dog wrapped up in a package that looked like a golden, all-american Thunder god. “But, this is a DC household. Thor needs to stay somewhere else. Not that I think you’d do that without my input. I sound like a total douche, right now, don’t I?” Sebastian poked Blaine in the side. “I bet he and Hunter would get along great,though.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine let out a laugh and kissed Sebastian back. “Yeah, yeah. But, I do understand. Just remember what I said. Anytime. And if you ever want it, then I’ll never use it. Unless, you know, dire.” He grinned at the compliment, pleased that he could get the man that only ever drank coffee or iced tea to drink his special blends. He looked up when Seb asked if Sam was getting a hotel, the oven timer going off giving him the chance to tease his boyfriend a little for being mildly rude. He furrowed his brow a little exaggeratedly and turned to the oven before speaking. “Oh, I mean, I already told him he could stay with us that week. I mean, why would he waste all that money on a hotel when you have a perfectly good sectional right in the living room.” He paused for dramatics as he put the oven mitt on before pulling the pizza out. The sizzling cheese is the only sound in the kitchen. He turned to put it on a cooling pad on the counter and shot Seb a glance. His boyfriend seemed to be somewhere between shock and trying to figure out a way to tell Blaine he’d overstepped. He couldn’t really keep it up after that.

“Oh my gods, of course he’s getting a hotel, Seb. This is your house! I’m like the exception to the rule here. I know you don’t even like Hunter lounging around on the sofa, why would I invite my overly enthusiastic friend to sleep here without your permission.” He shook his head as he cut the pizza up. “No, Sam will be staying about five minutes away, silly.” He rolled his eyes, concentrating on cutting up the slices, still smiling to himself at Seb’s face. “You only sound a little douchey, but, hey, I get it and I still love you.” He kissed the tip of Seb’s nose for emphasis. “Of course I’d never do that. You know it, too.” He handed Sebastian his plate and grabbed both of their beers motioning for him to follow him to said sofa and tucked himself into the arm, his legs curled under him. Some true crime drama already queued up for the evening. 

“For the record, my dear,  know you love Diana Prince almost as much as you love me but,  this is a Marvel house when I want it to be a Marvel house. Captain America is too important to me for you to take that away.” He winked, knowing that he probably loved Nightwing and Wonder Woman almost as much as Capt but, he liked the teasing anyway because Steve was his favorite. “Thor will be just fine at the Hotel.” He smiled and took a bite of his pizza, which was fantastic before reaching over and giving Seb’s thigh a little squeeze to show everything was in jest.

 “I’m sure Sam and Buffy would actually get along pretty great now that you mention it. They’re both ridiculous.” he stated in response to Hunter. He grinned at his joke.  He loved this, this feeling of contentedness. Once again, he found he could stay like this forever. He was utterly happy in this moment and his smile probably showed it. He reached out and took Seb’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips and placed a kiss against his knuckles. He grinned against his hand before gently putting it down in favor of the remote. “Eat your dinner, dear.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and stared at Blaine for a minute. He knew he had to be joking. “Yeah, yeah.” He hopped off of the counter and followed the other man into the living room. “Well, I love you back. I’m weird about my space. You’re the only person that I don’t get annoyed with. That’s a pretty high honor.” 

He settled into the couch and held on to his plate, the warmth from the pizza comforting against his cool skin. “We’re a house divided then. This must be how people who like different baseball teams feel.” Seb nudged Blaine’s arm playfully. “Buffy….he wishes. He will never have that level of style. God bless Sarah Michelle.” Sebastian smiled as Blaine gently kissed his hand. He chewed on his pizza and lifted one hand in faux praise in regards to Sarah. But really, Seb knew that Hunter worked insanely hard and was good at his job but couldn’t let himself get too mushy about his best friend. He was too tired for any more emotions that day. “This is awesome. Good job,B.” Sebastian kicked his legs up onto the coffee table and started his second slice as the dramatic opening music of their show filled the apartment.

/fin.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 34

Warnings: none really

Tag list: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thorsbathroomchicken​, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

I told @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​ I’d write a long story because she enjoys them and well, it is longer than I ever expected.

Here’s a face claim for Esme

She calls home; pacing the length of the balcony.  She's anxious to hear the kids' animated stories of their daily adventures,  their musical little girls, the way the name 'mommy' sounds when it comes out of their mouths. Being away from them is unbearable; she's spent years always putting their needs and their well being first, ignoring her own mental health struggles, always putting herself on the back burner. Being a mom is her greatest achievement; protecting, growing, and nurturing babies inside of her, devoting the last five years to making sure that they are well cared for and that they know they are loved. Many times they've been her only source of companionship and comfort; Tyler being away for weeks on end, throughout the coarse of an entire year.  The bond she has with her children is incredibly strong. Indescribable. And she misses them terribly. With everything she is and everything she has.

“I miss you mommy,” as usual, Tanner is the last one that gets to talk to her. He is extremely sensitive and introspective. Loving his mother with a fierceness that can't be rivalled. A momma's boy, through and through. He'd been the smaller and the sicker of the twins; they'd arrived six weeks early and not without complications. And while TJ had been able go home after only a week, Tanner had remained in the NICU with a variety of problems, and she'd put in long hours by his side; Tyler having to concentrate on staying home to care for Millie and a newborn.  

“I miss you too. Have you been a good boy? Grandma says you've been helping her out a lot. And that you've been really being strong and brave for your brother.”

“I'm trying to be good. I'm sad but I have to  be happy for Teej and Millie. Sometimes it's really hard and I just want to cry.”

So much like his father in that respect. Always putting himself last in favour of being the strong, supportive one.

“It's okay to be sad,” she assures him. “Boys get sad too. Even daddy gets sad sometimes. And you know how tough and strong he is.”

“Daddy gets sad too?”

“Yup. Even the big and strong ones get sad once and a while. It makes him sad to be away from home. He doesn't like being away from you guys. It's really hard on him, even he doesn't like to admit it.”

“He misses us?”

“Of course he does. He misses you guys so much. You know how much he likes spending time with you guys. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you and your brothers and Millie. Doesn't he always try to spend as much time with you as possible when he's home? Doesn't he always tell you how much you loves you?”

“Always,” Tanner confirms.

“He's sad when he's away from you all. He just wants to be home. As much as possible. But sometimes...”

“He has to go away. To work.”

“Every once in a while,” she says. “But he doesn't really want to go. He'd rather be home. But sometimes people need his help and he has to go and give it to them.”

“Like the kids that were taken away?”

“Yup. And sometimes teenagers. And sometimes adults. People need his help and he goes.”

“He gets people away from bad guys,” Tanner sounds both intrigued and excited about the idea.

“Exactly.”

“Because he's really brave, right?”

“Yes,” she smiles. “He is. Even if he denies it. I need you to promise you'll be good. You keep helping grandma out. And your brother. But remember,it doesn't mean that you can't be sad or that you can't cry if you need to, okay? Daddy would tell you the same thing.  We'll be home soon, okay? We both love you so much.”

“I love you, mommy. Tell daddy I love him too, 'kay?”

“I promise I will. Let me talk to grandma, okay?

“Okay...” there's rustling on the other end as the phone is placed on the kitchen counter, and she hear the smacking of his bare feet against the floor, the patio door behind thrown open, and then a bellowing of: “Grammie!! Mommy wants to talk to you!”

Esme sits on one of the plastic chairs, picking up the mug of tea that Yaz had brought her earlier, sipping gingerly at it as she waits for her mother to retrieve the phone. Inside, the doctor that Nik had sent is tending to Tyler, while Yaz and Mark hang around in case they're needed.  It's been a hell of day; not even noon hour and she feels as if it should be midnight already. She's exhausted: mentally and physically. Still wearing the same clothes as earlier; covered in dirty and Tyler's blood and sweat. She needs a shower. Food. Sleep. And the 'date' with William Flynn still looms on the horizon.  She wants to stay in; curled up in bed with her husband, feeling his heart beating against her, listening to him breathe. Comforted in the fact that he's still alive.

“Just so you know,” her mother says in way of greeting. “I don't normally let them stay up this late, but we're having and Ovi got them some sparklers and...”

“Mom...” she gets that single word out through a choked sob, then completely breaks down. The tears that flow are hot and vicious, and she struggles to get words out as she gulps for air. Leaving out all the various twists and turn and gory details, but delving into what they'd found that morning, how everything had gone terribly wrong in the blink of an eye.    “Seeing him like that. I brought it all back. Dhaka. The bridge. It brought it all back and for five and a half years it's been leaving me alone.”

“Esme...honey...take a breath...”

“My brain knows it's nowhere near as bad. There's nothing life threatening. He'll be okay. But seeing him like that...all the blood....it was like I was right back there again. On that bridge. When will it end? When will it just leave me alone for good?”

“Honey child...” her mother sighs heavily. “...take a breath...he's fine. You just said it's nowhere near as serious.”

“It doesn't mean it makes it any easier. That I like seeing him like that. He's my husband, mom. He's the love of my life.  The father of my children.”

“Esme, you knew what you were getting into.  When you stayed in Australia to be with him. When you gave up your entire existence for him. You knew what kind of life he led.”

“I thought it would be behind him. Behind us.  I thought once he healed and got back on his feet, this all wouldn't be part of his life anymore.”

“And then he went back,” her mom reminds her. “Without even telling you. And he brought you right back into it along with him. Esme, you must be able to see why that bothers me. Why I think it was selfish of him. You already had a baby girl, and you were pregnant with twins and having complications, and he still went back. Without even consulting you! That's selfish, honey, and you know it is. It was a terrible thing for him to do. If he wanted that life so badly, he should have just cut you loose. You and Amelia. You could have raised her on your own, and your step dad and I could have helped you through your pregnancy with the twins. Tyler could have just taken you to court and  fought for visitation and paid child support.”

“Mom, what the fuck?! That was never an option. I wasn't going to leave him. Why would I do that? Why...?”

“Esme, your love can't save him when he's that hell bent on killing himself.”

“He's not that person any more,” she argues. “He's not that Tyler. The one with the death wish. The one with nothing to lose.”

“Then why does he still do it? Why does he keep putting himself at risk when he has a wife and children at home that love him and depend on him? Is it really worth the risk? You have to  think long and hard about this, sweetheart. About this life. About him. Because if you stay with him, this is what's always going be like.  He is always going to be running off and leaving you and the kids. And you're always going to be wondering if he's going to come back alive or dead. Is that really what you want? The kind of life? You deserve better. And so do my grandchildren.”

“Mom, leaving him is not an option that's on the table. It never has been. So...”

“I know you love him.  I know he loves you.  But sometimes, no matter how much two people love each other, it's just not healthy for them to be together. Is this really what you want the rest of your life to be like? Raising kids on your own while he's running off to save the world? He's a human being, Esme. He's not invincible. One day he's going to leave and he's not going to make it back.  Are you really prepared for when that happens? Because if he keeps living this life, it will happen. And you'll be left four children to raise and all the pieces to pick up on your own.”

“We are not having this conversation, mom.  You are not saying these things to me. Why are you saying them to me the first place?”

“Because you need to hear them. This is tough love, Esme. And if your father was here...”

“Well he's not. He's not here. He hasn't been here since I was seventeen.”

“...he would tell you the same thing. He wouldn't want you living like this. He wouldn't want you putting all your trust and all your faith and all your love into a man that isn't capable of giving any of that back to you.”

“You don't even know him, mom. You've spent five and a half years hating him. And now you think you know how he feels? You think you know what goes inside of his head?”

“I didn't hate him, Esme. I hated what he put you through. I hated that he took you away from your home and put all that burden on you...”

“He wasn't a burden. He saved my life. Not just in Dhaka. But in other ways too.”

“So you stayed because you felt you owed him? Do you realize how unhealthy that sounds?”

“I stayed because I was in love with him. And he needed me. I wasn't going to leave him. Not on the bridge, not in the hospital. I stayed there because I wanted to be there. I wanted to be with him.”

“You weren't in love with him, hun. Don't fool yourself. You were in love with the idea of him.  He wandered into your life and swept you off your feet and you fell in love with the idea of what it would be like to be with someone like him. Tall, good looking, the body...”

“Mom, you have no idea what you're talking about. You have no idea what attracted me to Tyler or what went on during those five days and...”

“Exactly. It was five days. You spent five days with him, probably in his bed, and just happened to fall in love that quickly? That's a load of shit, Esme, and you know it. You loved the idea of him. The kind of life he could give you...”

“He lived in a fucking shack in the outback with a dog and a chicken! He barely had a life to give me! What the hell are you talking about? Tyler had nothing when I met him. What he could give me? I didn't want anything. I just wanted him.”

“So you fel in love with the aesthetic of him.”

“Oh my god,” she gives a snort. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Esme, he's very attractive, he has that body, those eyes, that voice...”

“I can not believe I am listening to this!”

“I can see how you fooled yourself into thinking you were in love with him.  You were smitten with him. But it wasn't love. And you know it wasn't.  Maybe it turned into love. Maybe the two of you fell in love with each other during the coarse of a few months or a year, but it was not love that made you stay. You wanted to escape. You hated your life.  And he gave you the chance to get away from it.”

“That is not why I stayed,” she hisses.

“You need to sit back and think long and hard about the decisions you've made, young lady. Why you did the things you did. I don't deny that you love him now. Or that he loves you. I know he does. But five and a half years ago? That was not love. And do we even need to get into the fact that he knocked you up?”

“Do you have to be so crude about it? Your granddaughter came out of that.”

“And she's beautiful and I love her. But it doesn't hide the fact that you and Tyler were complete strangers when you fell into bed with one another and neither of you thought be safe about it. It was a mistake, Esme.”

“Millie is not a mistake,”  the tears threaten once again. “She wasn't planned, but she was wanted. I even gave him an option. I told him I'd leave and never contact him again if he didn't want the baby.  He wanted her. I wanted her. Just because she wasn't planned does not mean she was a mistake.”

“And like I said, she's a beautiful, amazing little girl. And we're all blessed to have her. But it doesn't change how she ended up here.”

“And you think the twins were planned? Do you want the details on how they came along? How they were conceived? We didn't use anything because we didn't think I could get pregnant that soon. And how about Declan? I was on the pill with him and we still conceived him. So you're saying all your grandchildren are mistakes because they weren't planned?”

“That is not what I'm saying at all. You were married when they came along.”

“So what you're pissed about is that we made Millie out of wedlock? Are you serious, mom? That is what you're upset about? The fact Tyler and I had premarital sex and he got me pregnant? Spare me your moral superiority.  Don't be acting all high and mighty with me when you were fucking the mailman and the pastor while still married to dad!”

“Esme!” her mother snaps.  “What are you...?”

“You didn't think I knew, did you. Oh I know, mom. I know all your dirty little secrets.  Word travels fast in a small town. It gets back to you when your mom is the town whore!”

“Esme Michelle, you don't ever speak to me that way. You...”

“I am done with this conversation. I want you out of my house, mom.  I want you to pack your shit and leave. When I call tomorrow, you better not still be there.”

“You'd hurt the kids like that? Take me out of their lives and hurt them like that?”

“They'll deal. They have Ovi and Chloe  and Nik. They'll be fine.  Just get your shit and get out of my house. Now!”  she abruptly disconnects the call, then tosses the cell phone down with enough force that it bounces off the tables, hits the ground and send the battery one direction and the body of the phone in the other.

*****

“Bad time to bother you?” Mark asks sheepishly, as he stands on the track for the sliding door.

“It's always a bad time to bother me. Did you not learn anything being married to me? Did you not realize quickly that I'm a raging bitch?”

“It wasn't enough to scare me away,” he grins, and then gathers up the pieces of the phone and snaps them together.  “You okay?”

“No. I'm not.  I just had the most wonderful conversation with my mother that could not have gone any better if I tried.”

“You know,” he holds the phone out to her.  “She does love you.”

“She has a hell of a way of showing it.”

“She worries about you. You're her first girl. She wasn't very happy. When you decided to ditch your old life for a new one in Australia.”

“Mark...” she groans. “...it is none of your goddamn business what I do with my life. Just like it's none of hers. I'm a big girl, I make my own decisions. I do what I want and who I want. So if you're out there to promote her agenda....”

“I'm not. I'm just out there to check on you. And tell you what the doctor said.”

“Is he alive? Is he going to live long enough for me to smother him in his sleep because of his fucking 'save the world' bullshit? Because I am so sick of it, Mark. I'm tired of this life. I'm tired of him taking on the weight of other peoples' problems and it causing a whole lot of problems for us. I'm tired of watching him walk out the front door and worrying about whether or not he's going to walk back in. I'm tired of loving someone so much it is physically painful sometimes.”

“That's not a bad thing,” he says, and takes a seat on the chair next to her. “Loving someone that much.”

“I just want this stop. I need it to come to an end. I need him to realize that enough is enough and that it's time to leave it behind. I need him to realize that I need him and his kids need him and our lives are better with him in it.”

“Have you actually told him all that, or...?”

“Tons of times. I'm always trying to get through that thick fucking head of his! But he's so stubborn and he's still got these walls up that I can't seem to get past no matter how hard I try.  And I know he doesn't realize that he's doing it and that he's shutting me out, but it drives me insane.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe he's too afraid to let those last walls down? That those are the only ones left protecting him?”

“Protecting him from what? We've been married for almost six years. We have four kids together. What does he need to protect himself from?”

“Losing you.  He's terrified of that, you know. Of something happening to you.”

She sighs.

“Esme, you have him a second chance at life. You gave him a reason to keep going. You saved him just as much as he saved you. And he's scared. I know he is. He's scared of something happening to you. Of trying to figure out life without you. Especially a life with four kids. I know he's a bad ass. Believe me, I know. But he's also a human being. A human being that happens to love you to the ends of the earth. He is legitimately terrified of something happening to you.”

“He told you all this?”

“Not in so many words.  He's not the most talkative guy.”

“You think?” she scoffs.  

“But from what he did tell, he's worried. And he's scared. That's why he is the way he is. Protective. To a fault. He's afraid if he doesn't, something will happen to you, and then he'll spend the rest of his life hating himself for it. Cut the guy some slack, would you? He's been through a hell of a lot. Things we can't even begin to imagine. Well maybe you can because you saw it happen and you were there afterwards while he was in the hospital...”

“I don't want to talk about this, Mark. I do not want to talk about what happened in Dhaka. I don't want to talk about when he was in the hospital. I just can't talk about it, okay? It's too hard. Even now.”

“Fair enough,” he says, and holds his hands up in mock surrender.  “Other than your mom, are you okay?”

“I've been better. I'm still a little freaked out. I don't know how things went bad so fast. And why do they always need to go to shit in the first place? Why can't a job go nice and smooth for just once?”

“Nature of the beast I guess. If it makes you feel better, he's going to be okay.”

“Tyler's level of okay is not the same as a normal person's level of okay. Okay to Tyler is only getting shot twice instead of three times. So...”

“Got a concussion, busted nose, needed fourteen stitches to close the gash in his head, black eye, knuckles are all busted to shit. Separated right shoulder. Doctor reset it. ”

“Oh so it's basically just a normal day for him.”

Mark laughs. “I take it you're use to this.”

“You have no idea. The shit I have seen happen to this man and have him turn around and just walk it off? It's insane. He's a freak of nature. Maybe even a cyborg. I really don't know. But he just keeps getting back up and back into the game. I wish he wouldn't, but...”

“Get up or get back in the game?”

“Obviously get back in the game. I can't even begin to imagine what my life would be like without him.  How empty and miserable it would be. I've spent five and a half years with him. He's not just my husband and the father of my kids, he's my best friend. And my life would completely suck without him in it.”

Mark just nods.

“I'm sorry. If me admitting all that hurts your feelings. If you're still holding onto something.”

“It is what it is, Esme. I fucked up. And you went on with your life. I didn't expect you to get on with it so soon, mind you.”

“So soon? We hadn't been together for four years. That isn't soon. And need I remind you that you couldn't keep your dick in your pants for the entire time we were married? Yet you're upset I met Tyler four years later? Like...what?” she can't help but laugh.

“How did you meet him anyway? Your mom said it was a business trip, but I highly doubt that's the whole truth.”

“We met through Nik.  She needed someone to fill a spot on her team and I wanted to branch out from just doing North America stuff. So she took me on and the Dhaka job came up and that's how Tyler and I ended up running into each other.  I did meet him in Australia. That part is true.  Nik took me there, to his place, because she had a job that she needed us to work together on. He lived in this little shack in the outback. With a dog. And a chicken. Bathroom chicken.”

“Bathroom chicken? What...?”

“When I walked in, the chicken was sitting on the edge of the tub. My first words to Tyler were 'there's a chicken in your bathroom'.  Now does that not spark romance or what?”

Mark chuckles.

“Are you sure you want to hear this? Because I know we've had our issues, but I don't want to hurt your feelings by making your listen to this.”

“You're not making me listen to anything. I asked. It's okay. Go ahead.”

“He was so different than anyone I'd ever met before. He was mysterious. Sullen. Troubled. And he had this edge to him that I couldn't quite explain. There was something about him that was so intriguing. That I couldn't look away from.  Not to mention insanely buff and absurdly tall, but that's neither here nor there. There was just something about him. I don't even know what it was or how to  even describe it. I just...felt it.”

“And the job?”

“We had to pretend we were newlyweds.  That we were in Dhaka because we chose humanitarian work over a normal, traditional honeymoon. And it worked. Shockingly well. Until it didn't.  Things went bad. They went so bad, Mark. And it happened so fast. Tyler and I were the only two from the team that survived. We got separated. In the forest. I'd gone ahead to meet the other team members and he was supposed to get Ovi and meet up with us. Only that never happened. I had to hide in that goddamn forest for hours until things calmed down. Then I had to walk back into town and meet up with Tyler and Ovi.  It was insane. The whole thing. From beginning to end. So many times that day I didn't think I was ever getting out of Dhaka. At least not alive.”

“But you did. Make it out. Alive.”

She nods. “Tyler made sure of it. That Ovi and I got across the bridge. It's a long story and one I do not like to relive.  But we got across and he didn't and...” emotions chokes at her, and she rubs the palms of her hands against the sides of her mug. “...he almost died. In my arms. On that bridge. And it was...it is...the most horrible thing I've ever had  to see in my entire life.”

“Esme...I am so sorry.  That you had to go through that. That you had to see that.”

“It was the worst thing I have ever seen. In the corps, I could turn off my emotions. When we went overseas and we saw death and destruction all around us, eventually you become desensitized to it.  It didn't bother me after all. It was part of the job.  But that...on the bridge...”  she swipes at a tear as it trickles down her cheek. “...I will never forget that. As long as I live. Every time I see that scar on his neck, it's like it happened yesterday. I can't get it out of my mind. No matter how hard I try.  Will it ever go away? Will it ever get better?”

“It will get better,” Mark assures her. “One day it won't bother you at all. When you see that scar. And you won't even realize that it stopped bothering you.  But you won't ever forget it, Esme. How could you? I mean, you were involved with the guy at the time. He wasn't some stranger off the street. You two had...I don't...something...between you.  And you kept him alive. He was bleeding out and you actually kept him on this side of the ground. That's pretty fucking amazing. It really is.”

“He would have done the same for me. I know he would have.  I mean, he sacrificed himself to get Ovi and I across the bridge. If something had have happened to me, I know he would have fought just as hard to keep me going.  It's just...” she sighs.  “...can we stop talking about this? Some days I'm fine with it and some days I just do it.”

“It's okay,” he lays a comforting hand on her back. “I get it. I do. He's lucky to have you, you know. You stuck around. Not just on that bridge, but in that hospital. You didn't have to stay and you did. And that's pretty damn admirable.”

“It's really not. I did what anyone would do.”

“Most people would have gotten the hell out of there and never looked back. But you hung in there. And you keep hanging in there. It can't be easy. Being with a guy like that.”

She frowns. “A guy like that?”

“The way he is. With his issues. I mean, he's got some serious shit going on up in his head and...

“He has PTSD, Mark. He's not crazy. You'd have it too you if you lived through what he did. You know, you started out so well. You had me convinced that you actually wanted to hear about Tyler and I. That maybe you'd turned over a new leaf and you actually gave a shit about other people. But you just turn around and remind me that you're still the same asshole you've always been.”

“Did he tell you he nearly killed McMann yesterday? That he absolutely snapped and nearly choked the guy out?”

“Actually, he did. Right after he told me he swallowed his pride and asked you...of all goddamn people...for help. So if you're trying to take a cheap shot at his expense, it won't work.”

“He went fucking loco, Esme. Like right off the reservation. How do you handle that? Does he do that at home too? With you and the kids?”

“You're reaching, Mark. Like desperately reaching. Tyler has never...ever...lost it like that on me or the kids.”

“How do you know he won't?”

“Because I know him. He's different when he's not on the job. You're seeing work Tyler. He's not like that at home. He's more relaxed. He doesn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's happy.  He's not the Tyler he is right now.”

“If he's got PTSD, it could lead to that one day. Where he does snap at home. On you and the kids.”

“Mark, you are walking on very thin ice here.  I appreciate what you did yesterday.  I really do. I was worried about him going alone and you stepped up to help him out.  And it's a good thing you were there to stop him from killing McMann. Because we need that asshole alive. But if you're looking for me to pin a medal on you or something...”

“I just worry about you,” he reasons. “That's all.”

“Funny, it takes me being married to another man to get you to care about me. Because you sure as shit didn't care when we were together.”

“We had our issues. I'm not denying that.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“But I am not the only one to blame for everything that happened. You know what you're like.”

“What am I like, Mark? Enlighten me. Tell me what I'm like.”

“You're argumentative. Confrontational. Assertive. Aggressive.”

She smirks. “Only weak men are intimidated by assertive women.”

“See? That right there. The smart ass comments. That's another thing. How the fuck does he put up with you?”

“He's not a pussy like you are. He likes a challenge.”

“Wouldn't be surprised if you're part of the reason he's so...you know...batshit crazy.”

“Mark, that is my husband you're talking about. So if you want to keep all of your teeth, I suggest you don't say another word. Because I'm all out of both patience and fucks right about now and I will not hesitate knocking you the fuck out.”

“Uhhh...Esme...” Yaz pokes his head out the door. “...the doctor's gone and he said there won't be a bill or anything. I guess he owes Nik a favour. He wrote a couple of prescriptions so I'm going to go and find a pharmacy and get them filled.”

“Yaz, you're the best,” she gives him a glowing smile. “You're the real MVP on this team.”

“About time someone noticed and aknowledged it,” he grins. “And the doc told Tyler to take a shower and get clean up. All the blood and the dirt could cause infection. But he's still a little woozy and I don't want him falling and cracking his head open. So...”

“Yaz, you've shared a public bathroom with him before I'm sure. It's nothing you haven't seen.”

“Yeah, well, I'd rather not see it, know what I mean? And he won't let me near him anyway. He's really stubborn.”

“You're just realizing that now? After what? Eight years of knowing him?”

“Well he can't take a shower alone in case he passes out or whatever and I told him that so he said to come get you because you're used to seeing his...you know...”

She smirks, standing up and stretching.  “Junk? Afraid you'll get penis envy?”

“...and you had to do to this kind of thing before after Dhaka, so...”

“I'm going...I'm going...” she mutters. “Fucking men. If I'd decided to stick to just girls, I would not be going through this horseshit right now.  And Yaz...” she stands on her tip toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. “...thank you. You're an awesome friend.”

“Nothing I wouldn't do for you guys, you know that.”

“And Mark...” she pauses in the threshold, glaring at him.  “...don't be here when I get back.”

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 11 - Come Sunday

I didn’t know where Harry went. I heard the car start as I shut the front door behind me--the music in the living room was suddenly off and I had eight pairs of eyes watching as I pulled wet hair from the front of my face.

“He just--went for a drive, I guess.”

Jeffrey moved forward, his eyes scanning the room before he made his way over to me--dripping--in the foyer. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Apparently, Tyler could tell that whatever I was going to say wasn’t intended for an audience, so he turned to Mitch and started talking. Someone unpaused the music--though the volume was much lower than before--and I brought my eyes back to Jeffrey.

If they didn’t think I was some stupid, young, unprofessional idiot before, they certainly did now.

“Maggie,” Jeffrey said my name, his eyes wide with concern and care. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged quickly, still feeling rather confused as to the whole driveway scene that had just unfolded. Sure, Harry had every right to be upset. He’d heard something that misrepresented my feelings for him and our relationship in its entirety.

But that didn’t mean he got to shut me out and not even let me explain. If he could hear the reality of the situation he’d know that Kyle was joking and drunk and maybe Kyle had said that seriously at one point and maybe I was unsure about being his friend at first but here we are in Jamaica and suddenly the thought that he might never want to speak to me again made me feel like I was in love with the guy who once had long hair and who seemed obsessed with catching skittles in his mouth in the studio.

I looked up at Jeffrey--who’d still gotten zero information about what was actually going on--and I could feel the tears well up in my eyes.

“I’m going to bed,” I said quietly, turning to head up the staircase and down the dark hallway. He didn’t follow me. He watched as I climbed the stairs, eventually turning to head back into the living room. I heard him mumble something to the others when my feet hit the hardwood of the second landing. I didn’t even care what he said. My cover was already blown.

**

I woke up the next morning to a clear sky--leaves lined the yard below from the wind and rain the night before. The house was quiet, someone was in the shower, and Harry’s bedroom door was open.

I took that as a sign that he wasn’t here.

The sound of my door opening and closing must have alerted Jeffrey that I was awake, because soon, there was a knock on my door and a pit in my stomach. I was certain he was here to tell me to pack my bags--like I’d been voted off the island--but instead, he offered me a smile.

“Can I come in?”

I nodded, stepped aside, and then shut the door behind him. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and let his other rest in the pocket of his athletic shorts. He looked, for a second, like he was going to wait for me to speak. Thank God he didn’t.

“Harry stayed at the other house last night,” he said, nodding slowly, apparently waiting to see what my reaction would be. I didn’t want to give him much. I didn’t want to cry and bare my soul to Harry’s manager.

Chasing Harry as he stormed out of the room last night seemed to cement the fact that I wasn’t as professional as the rest of them. Breaking down in front of Jeffrey would only prove that I didn’t actually deserve to be here--that Harry had likely brought me along for his vacation shag.

“I have no clue what happened, and he won’t even answer his phone when I call. All he said was that he stayed there.” He paused, scanning over my face for a hint of emotion. “Can you at least tell me something?”

I let out a sigh and pulled my eyes away from him--running over my options quickly. Harry had been the one who didn’t seem to mind if anyone knew that we were--you know, spending time together. I was always the one avoiding it and trying to keep things low key.

I could tell Jeffrey something--only because I assumed it was even more confusing if you had no clue what had happened. I was confused enough and I was one half of the dynamic.

“Harry and I have kind of been,” I slowed, unsure of how to phrase it. Sleeping together? Involved? An item?

“Together--yeah. I know,” he nodded. He looked at me as if there were more information, as if that wasn’t the big secret I was letting him in on.

“You knew?”

He pulled his head back and his eyebrows knit together. “Yeah--I mean, Harry hadn’t come right out and said it, but when he told me you were spending Christmas with his family I figured--” he trailed off.

“Does everyone else know?” I asked, leaning forward, my pulse suddenly rising.

Okay, sure, fine. Maybe Jeffrey knowing wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe the others were still in the dark and maybe I wasn’t completely fucked.

“I mean, I think it’s just kind of understood.”

“Oh god,” I let out a groan, walking back towards the balcony that overlooked the backyard. My bed was unmade, my clothes were strewn across the floor, and Jeffrey looked more than comfortable with the fact that I was in distress and that we were currently talking about my sex life.

“Maggie, relax, it’s fine. No one cares--it’s none of our business.”

“Sure it is, I’m working with all of them on this album and you seriously think they won’t care that Harry’s been sleeping with me this whole time? You don’t find that unprofessional?”

Jeffrey actually seemed to find this somewhat amusing, his lips pulled up into a smirk, but he dropped it quickly when I raised my eyebrows at him.

“I think you’re over analyzing it,” he shook his head. “But I still don’t know why he’s refusing to come back here and why you locked yourself in your room last night.”

I pulled my hair to one side of my head. “Kyle Clark made a dumb comment on FaceTime last night about me only spending time with Harry for the work and financial opportunities.”

Jeffrey pursed his lips together and nodded--now it all made sense. He let out a breath. “Fuck.”

I let out a scoff as I went to sit back on my bed. “Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re spending time with him?”

“No!” I let out an exaggerated groan. “At first I had no idea why Harry wanted anything to do with me. We weren’t working together any more so he had no reason to keep in touch.”

“But he did keep in touch,” Jeffrey prompted, clearly trying to get as much information out of me as possible. I couldn’t blame him--it seemed like Harry had done a good job at keeping him in the dark.

“But he did and I was weirded out by it--and yeah Kyle had said that there might be work opportunities if I stayed in touch with him, but that’s not why I’ve spent time with him.”

“So--you like him?” Jeffrey squinted at me, still standing in the middle of my bedroom.

“I like him a lot, unfortunately.”

Jeffrey laughed at this, but then reached up the scratch the back of his neck. “So what’s your plan?”

I let myself fall back, lying face up on the bed as my eyes searched over the ceiling. “I have to go home.”

“What? No you don’t, Maggie. You just need to talk to him.”

“I tried to talk to him last night and he said he didn’t want to listen,” I said matter-of-factly.

I’d never seen Harry be so sure of something. I’d never seen him so angry, so cold, so withdrawn. Jeffrey let out a slow sigh at this, seemingly just as stuck as I was.

**

I decided to stay in my room for the majority of the day. The rest of the group went to the studio--I had no clue where Harry was at in terms of his headspace, and though Jeff begged me to go with them, I decided that I deserved to be lonely and cooped up inside.

I called my mom and did my best to avoid the conversation entirely. I told her I stayed behind due to a stomach ache. I did a load of laundry, took a nap, had lunch, and even took some time to call Chelsea. But again, I didn’t dare explain the current conundrum I was in. 

And finally, when I heard the door downstairs open and shut, filling the house with laughter and voices, I knew what I had to do.

I made my way down to the living room, watching as Alex and Tyler passed me on the stairs with sympathetic smiles. I pushed the thought out of my head that they’d been talking about me all day and rounded the corner.

Harry was at the fridge, his back to me as he dug into one of the drawers for a bottle of water. Jeffrey, upon seeing me, decided to busy himself in a conversation with Mitch and Ryan. Jeff Bhasker seemed to get the message as well, suddenly heading out to the patio to make a phone call.

“Hi,” I said quietly, waiting for him to turn to look at me. He did, eventually, with the water bottle up to his lips. He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly, almost as if he didn’t know why on earth I was talking to him. “Can we chat?”

He set the water bottle down on the counter and let one of his hands rest there for support. “Don’t really know what there is to talk about.”

I looked up at him, feeling smaller in comparison than I ever had. His face was straight and cold, rather emotionless. “Can we just talk in private for a minute?”

He let out a breath and let his eyes scan the room to see who was still around. He picked up his water and started moving towards the stairs. I followed him up and into his bedroom--the bed was unmade and a computer lay open on his nightstand.

Once I was inside he shut the door behind me, keeping his eyes on me as I searched for the right words.

“I know you’re really mad and I know how it sounded last night, but I want to just explain.”

“Explain what, Maggie? That you and your friend are so desperate for work that you faked this whole relationship with me?”

He crossed in front of me and went to look out the window--very moody of him.

“No,” I shook my head, the anger present in my voice. “If you’d actually listen you’d understand why that’s not true in the slightest.”

He turned his head to look at me over his shoulder, still unimpressed. “I’m listening.”

I took a few steps closer when he turned around, apparently more willing to hear me out. “Kyle had made those comments when you first started showing up at my apartment. He was joking the other night. He knows as well as I do that this--” I paused, not completely sure how to explain. “That this became more than just a friendship and a thing about work.”

“But the money was a nice bonus, wasn’t it?”

It felt like all of the air left my body with his words. I wasn’t trying to be greedy or money hungry or whatever you want to call it. I was trying to be financially responsible. I’d made a good life at a young age and suddenly, his hiatus changed my entire life. Forgive me for wanting to make sure I was financially secure.

“Harry I can’t deny that I wanted a job. Do you want me to deny that your hiatus had shit timing and an air of insensitivity to the rest of the people you worked with?”

“I can’t believe we’re still talking about the stupid hiatus, Maggie!”

“That’s why all of this started!”

He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, letting a harsh breath of air escape his lips. “Fine, Maggie. It’s my fault. I should have kept the band together and kept touring and done whatever it is that made you money.”

“Is that seriously what you think I mean?” I crossed my arms and shook my head at him, hurt by his sudden sense of unfamiliarity.

“I don’t know what you mean Maggie. All I know is that last night, Kyle made it sound like you were only in this for the work. And now that I know you, I know how important your work is. How am I not supposed to question it?”

I understood his point. I understood why he was under the impression he was under. I get that. But I didn’t understand how he could seriously think that I was faking it this entire time. He really thought that Christmas was fake and the Dirty Shirleys were fake? He thought that the laying around on my couch watching Netflix was fake?

He started speaking again, his voice more angry this time. “It’s not my fault that you put so much time into the band that you lost your identity when it fell apart. That’s not my problem.”

I opened my mouth to contest his words, but they seemed to seep into my lungs, making it harder to breathe as I tried to will the tears out of my eyes. How could he think that this wasn’t real? How could he think that our time together meant nothing to me? How could he think that I valued work over life?

But I knew. I knew as he stared at me with sad eyes, that he thought that because of me. Because I’d been too busy frantically trying to find a post-direction plan B that I forgot to enjoy what I had in front of me at the moment.

So maybe he was right--maybe it wasn’t his problem.

**

I knocked on the door three times, hoping to God that I hadn’t wasted an 8 hour flight and the money for my own ticket to come all the way here. After another set of three knocks, the door swung open, Kyle stood with Charlie in his arms, and a frown on his face.

“Hi,” I said sheepishly, stepping inside when Kyle moved out of the way.

“Why are you not in Jamaica?” A pause as Charlie squirmed in his arms. “Did I ruin your relationship?”

I let out a soft but sad laugh as he shut the door. He put Charlie down, who seemed more than thrilled to see me despite the circumstances. He rubbed up against my leg and made obnoxious noises until I leaned over to pick him up.

“You didn’t ruin my relationship,” I shook my head. “I did that all on my own.”

“Maggie I’m so sorry I said that--I was drunk--he knew I was drunk, right?”

I shrugged, “It doesn’t matter--I know you were joking. I think he just, it hurt his feelings.”

Mark rounded the corner, a mix of surprise and disappointment to see me standing in the foyer of his flat. “Maggie? You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

His eyes drifted to Kyle--apparently he’d been somewhat caught up. “Oh.”

“It’s fine,” I held up my free hand, hoping I was doing a good enough job at faking it. The truth was that I was too sad to go back to my own flat alone--I figured this would be an okay place to fall asleep on the couch and spend the next 18 hours until I decided if I could face the world.

Mark came to take my purse and suitcase, ushering us further into the flat and towards the kitchen. They asked how my flight was and if I’d let my parents know I’d landed, letting my find a spot on a stool in their kitchen. 

“So what actually happened, aside from me saying the stupidest thing I’ve ever said?”

I forced a smile to let him know I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t. I couldn’t be mad at him for making a dumb joke about something he’d said months ago. I couldn’t be mad because I knew it wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t true, and I was hoping, somewhere deep down, Harry knew that as well.

“He stormed out of the house that night--slept at another house we had rented. Came back, I tried to talk to him and he,” I trailed off, unsure of how to explain it to them. Harry had a point, and in a way, I’d venture to say he was right.

I spent so much of my time freaking out about work--what would I do? Where would I work? Would I make enough money?--that I didn’t stop to actually be appreciative of the time my unemployment gave the two of us.

“He what?” Kyle asked as he reached up into a cupboard, bringing out a box of tea as Mark filled the kettle.

“He has a point, you know?” The words left my mouth with pain, my voice was small and timid and sad. Kyle turned to face me and set the tea down on the island between us. “He said that I put too much of my identity into the band and into our job and I mean, maybe he’s right! Because now that that’s gone and now that he’s gone, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”

The water in my eyes spilled onto my cheeks--eight hours of holding it in on the plane apparently set me up to be a blubbering mess back in my own time zone.

“Mags,” Kyle came around to hug me, his arms draped around my shoulders and he pulled me into him. “You didn’t lose your identity. You loved our work, and that’s okay.”

“But is it?” I pulled away from him quickly, wiping at the wetness on my face with the sleeve of my flannel. I felt like a monster, a monster who ruined the one good thing she had. I didn’t deserve his comfort or kindness when I single handedly ruined the one positive. “Is it okay that I let Harry think that work was more important than him?”

Kyle let out a sigh, apparently not willing to admit that no, it wasn’t.

“Do you love him, Maggie?” Mark spoke from a few feet away, his eyes soft and gentle. He offered a smile, one that made me feel like it was okay that I was crying in their kitchen at 9pm on a weeknight. Only 48 hours had passed since he drove off. 

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I loved spending time with him and I loved what we had even if it made me nervous--and the thought that I ruined it makes me feel like I should just never leave my apartment again.”

They both let out a laugh at this, Charlie reappeared with his feather toy and dropped it at my feet. I bent over to pick it up, tossed it down the hallway, and watched as he leapt after it.

“Maybe I should call him,” Kyle said, though he was looking at Mark instead of me. “Maybe I should call him and tell him that I was drunk and joking around and that he shouldn’t be mad.”

I rolled my eyes--not at his gesture, just at his thought that it’d be that easy. “You didn’t see how mad he was,” I rubbed my sleeve against my nose, wiping whatever snot was likely gracing my face.

“You’ve already been in the middle of it enough,” Mark reminded, lifting the kettle from the stove and turning off the burner. “Just give him some time, Maggie, I’m sure he’ll cool down a bit.”

I didn’t know if he would--I didn’t know if there was anything I could say that would undo the shitstorm of the last two days. I hoped, though, that Mark was right.

And so instead of sitting around and complaining about my break up with the guy who hadn’t even been my boyfriend for more than two weeks, we talked about London. They both told me what they’d been up to since I’d left.

Kyle was still looking for something permanent--he’d done some contracting with a different label and he had sent a few things to the U.S. Mark’s employment hadn’t changed, but they admitted that saving for a wedding was tough on one income.

And when they left me on the couch in their living room that was lined with an old sheet, I fell asleep quickly. Maybe it was having Charlie curled up behind my knees, or maybe it was the fact that I’d been emotionally exhausted since the moment the words left Kyle’s lips--but really, I was just happy to not have to think about the boy I left behind.

**

Getting back to my apartment the next day was a process. I had to take two busses and the tube to get to my neighborhood, and then I began the trek back to my building. I passed The Keg Stand on my way, and instead of wishing I could go inside and have a Dirty Shirley and some curly fries, I wished instead that it would catch fire and burn down--that way I wouldn’t have to look at it.

I called my mom to fill her in when I was unpacking. I told her about the sandwiches and the conversation about being his girlfriend and the way I tried to keep it a secret from the rest of the group. I told her about the swimming pool and the beaches and the chartered plane we took on our way there. I told her I didn’t really have a stomach ache yesterday.

I sat on the floor in my bedroom and refolded every single t-shirt I owned, color coding the drawer in which they lived. Maybe it was just a way to fill my time, but it made me feel like there was some semblance of order in my life.

I watched three episodes of Jane the Virgin that night, thankful to get back into the habit of tuning out the rest of the world to bask in the glory of someone else’s downward spiral. When I was on my fourth episode with a bowl of cereal in front of me, my phone rang.

Jeffrey’s number appeared on my screen.

I swiped at it quickly, unsure of what he wanted but knowing it’d be worth picking up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Maggie, you made it back?”

“Hi, yeah, I’m back,” I cleared my throat, feeling somewhat guilty for leaving in a rush. I packed my things the next morning, called a car, and was out the door almost as quickly as Harry was the night it happened.

“How was the flight?” He asked--his effort to be polite was appreciated but unnecessary. He wasn’t calling me just to chat--that much I knew.

“It was good, easy enough. What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just--I wanted to check in. I don’t really have the whole story of why you left.”

I bit at my lip and paused for a second. It didn’t quite feel like my place to tell Harry’s manager what had happened between us, but it also didn’t seem right to leave everyone hanging in the unknown of if I was gone for good from Jamaica.

Harry hadn’t told them anything? I understood that he didn’t want to broadcast what was sure to be one of the messiest and most dramatic break ups in the history of couples who were never going to work out, but I figured he’d at least give them something. 

“Yeah, I don’t--I won’t be coming back.”

“Okay,” he said simply. A pause before he inhaled sharply. “Harry’s a mess, just so you know.”

“A mess?” I asked, feeling like I must have misheard him.

He shifted on the other end of the line and I could hear a door shut. He let out a sigh and seemed to take a second to gather his thoughts. “He’s irritable, to say the least.”

“Oh--I, I’m--sorry, I guess.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

I didn’t know what to say--I didn’t know how to tell Harry’s manager that I had been a dick but that Harry had been the one to overreact. I didn’t think I should really say any of that, so instead of responding, I changed the subject.

“How’s the writing been? What did you guys do in the studio yesterday?”

“Not much, to be honest. A lot of mixing and editing. Mitch did a track for a song and Harry did a few vocals. Nothing wild.”

“I wasn’t using Harry for money, just so you know.”

The words spilled out--they hijacked my tongue and zipped through the air to meet Jeffrey’s ears in the warm weather. I couldn’t take them back, but the silence on his end made me wish I could.

“I know, Maggie. It’s just--do you know how many people hang out with him in hopes of getting nice things?”

“I know,” I sighed. “I know people do that and I know that I fucked up but that wasn’t what was happening.”

“Have you said that to him?”

I shifted on my couch and pulled at the string of my sweatpants. “I tried to the other night but he didn’t seem to believe me.”

“He’s stubborn,” Jeffrey sighed. “Give him some time. Give him a few days and I’m sure he’ll want to talk again. He just needs his space.”

**

A few days came and went. And then a week, and then two. I had no clue how Harry felt or what was going on in his head, but I knew he was likely enjoying the Maggie-free environment and the rainstorms that seemed to grace the Jamaican afternoons.

I’d sufficiently cleaned my apartment. I reorganized my Tupperware drawer, again. I went grocery shopping and did a lot of laundry and finished all of Jane The Virgin on Netflix. I was running out of ways to occupy myself, so that’s why I texted Julian.

At first he said he didn’t think there was anything for me to do at the label, but three days later, he called me back and asked if I was available to meet for coffee on Thursday. I pretended to check a calendar that I knew was empty and then told him 3pm would be just fine.

He was already seated when I showed up--sunglasses on his face as he sat at a table on the sidewalk. He had a coffee in front of him--apparently he just couldn’t wait--and smiled when I stood in front of him.

“Hi,” I offered a wave as he stood to hug me. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling back to get a look at me.

“You have a bit of a tan--is that normal?”

“No,” I laughed, running a hand through my hair as I sat. “I was in Jamaica, and I didn’t bring any sunscreen.”

“Jamaica? What were you in Jamaica for?”

I hadn’t even thought about an explanation.” Was I allowed to tell people that I’d written on Harry’s album? If they’d stuck to the timeline we’d set up at the start of the trip, they’d likely be close to mastering by now, if not already trying to tie up loose ends. I hadn’t signed anything that said I couldn’t disclose, so I let out a sigh.

“I wrote on Harry’s solo album, actually. Just a bit though, there’s a whole group of people still down there. Tyler Johnson is working on it, too.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’d heard there was talk of it. How was that?”

Another question I didn’t have an answer for. “It was good, it was fun.”

“Sounds like there’s more to that story,” Julian said, his eyebrows raised a bit as he sipped at his drink. 

I let out a sigh and avoided his eyes--watching as people passed us by. London was warmer, maybe not as warm as Jamaica, but better than it was the night I’d found Harry beneath the street lamp, trying to hide from a crowd. 

Julian changed the subject when I didn’t respond.

“So are you looking for work still?”

“Yeah,” I nodded quickly. “Definitely still looking, hoping something’s around. I’d love to do a staff gig somewhere, I don’t know if that will happen, though.”

“Well, we just signed a new group--I was hoping you’d maybe meet them and meet the other writer we have working with them right now.”

And there it was. The offer I’d been hoping for since the fall. Suddenly, with Julian sitting in front of me and the London spring all around, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as I’d hoped it be.

I didn’t feel the excitement in my chest that I was sure should be there. I didn’t feel the familiarity and the stability that I thought something like this would hold.

“Sure, yeah, that’d be great,” I told him.

And it wasn’t really a lie, but it wasn’t really the truth, either.