#seriously this song hits a button in my brain that says I MUST dance

[m-r-nicely]

Started listening to music to help me focus (because it usually does) but now I'm pausing to jam out

[browneyedhimbo]

Bet

Pairing: Sam x fem!reader

Summary: The team decides to make a pool of when you and Sam get together, completely unknowing of the fact you already are. Both of you come up with a plan to tease the hell out of them.

Prompts: 3. “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” and 13. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”

Warnings: language, alcohol, sam trying 40’s talk, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This is my entry for my bro Laura’s 200 writing challenge (@justmebeingtheweirdmeiam​) Congrats on reaching 200 bro!! You deserve that and more! Also beware possible grammar errors. Hope you enjoy!

Stark parties were, in your opinion, entertaining. It wasn’t the talking or the different stories you’d hear nor was it the music or drinking. It was because the guys would dress up with slacks and button ups and try to have a low key flex off. It was stupid yet highly amusing.

“Look at those idiots.” Natasha shook her head, making drinks behind the bar for you, her, and Wanda.

“Total goofs,” Wanda chuckled, turning around to see what they were doing now.

“Complete and utter fools.” You agreed, also turning to give them a glance. You sighed and shook your head as you saw Thor and Steve pointing in different directions trying to show off. Your eyes met a certain pair of soft chocolate brown ones, a small smile appeared on your lips and you turned your head back to face the bar, a shy blush slowly creeping up your cheeks.

“Hey,” you heard his soft voice call out next to you.

“Hey yourself,” you smiled looking up at him. 

“What’s a nice girl like you doin at a place like this?” He smiled bashfully, eyes dancing with excitement.

“Well, if you’d like to know, fella don up and left without another word. Gone without a single goodbye.” You faked a small frown, laughter bubbling inside you. 

“Oof doll I’m sorry. Where’s this fella at so I can give 'em a talkin' to?” His voice may have sounded stern but his face held pure amusement and joy. You couldn’t hold the act much longer.

“You know something bird brain,” you giggled, “You’re getting pretty good at that. Bucky must be a good teacher.” You winked at him causing him to roll his eyes playfully. You held each other’s gazes for what felt like forever, smiles toying on the ends of your lips. All of a sudden your favorite song comes on and your face lights up.

“Wanna dance?” Sam offered his hand to which you happily accepted. You took a sip of your drink before hopping off the stool and walking hand in hand to the dance floor with him, completely unaware of the goofy evil grins that rose upon Natasha and Wanda’s faces.

The moment your feet hit the dance floor, Sam had a strong grip on you, leading the dance. You didn’t mind, you’ve done it multiple times. Not that the team knew.

“Hey baby girl.” Sam whispered in your ear, goosebumps prickled your skin and a shiver ran down your spin. Another goofy smile appeared on your lips.

“Hey handsome,” you whispered back. No one knew of your secret relationship. You had started dating about a month ago after a mission. Sam almost got knocked out of the sky and it was then you realized your feelings for him were more than just platonic. The moment you got back you two talked about what happened and simultaneously admitted your feelings.

“Wanna hear somethin’ funny?” He had that gleeful smirk in place and it took everything in you to not kiss him right there. 

“Always,” you nodded as he led you into a spin.

“So I overheard Steve talking with Bucky in the bathroom,” you griminced a bit and Sam chuckled at your reaction. “It was something about dates and money. I heard our names being tossed around a couple times. I put two and two together and apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, a scoff leaving your lips. You shook your head in disbelief, not wanting to believe that was true. But they would do something like that. The more you pondered over it the more it made you laugh. Especially since you were already dating.

“Well then,” you chuckled, shaking your head again. They were literal children.

“Right?” He laughed along with you. “I have an idea though.” His eyes were full of mischief and it had you drawing closer to him.

“What’s that?”

“Flirt extra hard, kiss, say we’ve been dating for a month, steal the winners money.”

“I like that plan,” you nodded slightly. Wicked smiles plastered to both your faces as you parted ways, waiting for the party to die out to be left alone with the team.

-------→

“No no, you’re wrong!” Sam said defensively, chuckling along with the others.

“No I’m not! Look here, bird for brain.” Tony said, getting closer to Sam. “DUM-E is better than Redwing. And those are facts.”

“Incorrect facts!” Sam pouted, crossing his arms.

“No they’re not! Take it from a genius.” Tony cocked his head to the side, pride and cockiness just oozing out with hints of alcohol. You shook your head from your position on the sofa, laughing at them.

“How many times have you argued about this already?” Natasha asked with a sigh, clearly done with this topic.

“A lot. And still counting,” Tony smiled, stuffing a hand in his pocket and picking up his drink. 

“Yea. I’m pretty sure it was simple to build it anyway.” Sam retorted, knowing it would irk the genius. 

“Oh really? That’s what you think?” Tony nodded solemnly, quirking an eyebrow. “Hey Y/N/N, penny for your thoughts?”

“Don’t bring me into this Stark.” You threatened. You looked to Sam and he gave you a slight wink.

“Yeah Tony, just let her be.” 

“Cause you couldn’t handle her right?” Tony laughed, quickly muttering ‘I’m jokings’ while grabbing Sam’s shoulders, bringing him into a half hug.

“Oh I’m sure I could,” Sam gave you a flirtatious wink and blew a kiss, to which you giggled and covered your face with your drink, hiding the blush that threatened to show.

“Sammy, you couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.” The guys oohed and the girls chuckled. You bit your bottom lip and winked back at Sam, causing him to smirk. 

“Wanna bet baby girl?” He strode to where you sat on the sofa, hands landing on either side of the headrest, arms encasing you. Gradually, he leans down and captures your lips with his in a slow sensual kiss. You part for air and lock eyes, feeling everyone gaze on the two of you. 

His breath fans your face as you’re still only a few inches apart. A small smile dances on his lips as he leans down for another kiss. Your hands travel to his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. This time when you break, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, a glint of heat and mischief shining in his eyes. He stands up fully and smooths down his grey button up, clearing his throat with a smirk. 

“What?” Tony voiced everyone’s reaction. They were slack jawed with their eyes blown wide. You and Sam shared a look, chuckling at how no one had expected that. 

“So who had today’s date?” You asked looking at everyone. They all had their brows creased, still trying to figure out how and why. 

“Uh, Bucky did. I think.” Steve said eyeing Sam. “Wait how did-”

“Pay up!” Bucky cheered, extending his hand out. Grumbles and protests soon filled the room as they started handing bills to the metal armed man. 

“Nu uh,” Sam shook his head. “Best give half to us.” Buck scoffed but when he saw Sam wasn’t playing he turned to you.

“I’m with Sammy on this one. If it weren’t for us you wouldn’t have that money anyways.” You crossed your arms, standing next to Sam. Bucky sighed, while counting half off to split. He sighed as he extended your share.

“Thank you,” you smiled as you grabbed the money. A scoff and chuckle could be heard and you looked up to see Natasha shaking her head.

“I don’t know how I missed it.” She chided to herself. “How long?” Your smile widened and you looked up at Sam to see him with the same look plastered on his face. Everyone else stared at the three of you in confusion.

“A month and three days tomorrow.” Sam said, intertwining your fingers. You leaned your head on his shoulder as the noise in the room escalated. ��Unbelievables’ and ‘seriouslys’ were mumbled as well as congratulations. 

You smiled to yourself looking up at the man who held your heart. He looked down, a goofy grin on his face. Pressing a kiss to your temple, Sam played with your fingers. He could finally show you were his, and he was yours.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Permanent tags: @becausewhyknotme @disasterbuckley @imma-new-soul @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @theladyoffangorn @itsunclebucky @mushyjellybeans @damnyoudameron​ @agentpeggybarnes​ @fangirl-introvert @ninjabucky @cosmicbucky @yougottakeeponkeepinon @this-kitten-is-smitten

Sam Wilson tags: (don’t have one for him yet) (tagging who may be interested) @thorfanficwriter​ @sebbbystaaan​ @stuckonjbbarnes​

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

03 - Music Room 3007

Chapters songs:

*Dagger; Slowdive

On The Level; Mac Demarco

F song; Strawberry Guy

^^^ when including * in chapters next to a song, that means it is a song that will be performed in the chapter.

———

— Y.L. Perspective

      "Sunshine girl is sleeping. She falls in dreams alone," sings Toruku in a calming tone into a microphone, along with the strumming of a guitar. "And me, I am her dagger. Too numb to feel her pain."

     "The world is full of noise, yes. I hear it all the time. And me, I am your dagger. You know I am your wound." I join in, adding onto his

      The words we sang were truly upsetting. About a boy, a lover, who is aware he's hurting the girl he loves. I couldn't compare any relationship I'd ever been through to those lyrics.

      Although one had always caught my eye: "I didn't really lose you, I just lost it for a while." It was easy to automatically think of the boy I was duetting with when we covered this; for some time now, Toruku has had small feelings for me.

       One of the things that repelled me from a relationship with him was the idea that it would end horribly, and that it would potentially ruin our relationship.

      Not to mention how much drama that would cause for two other unproblematic teenagers who were only trying to make a living off of their talent: Hikishi and Giki.

      But today wasn't about what would happen between the two of us— today was her day.

     "I thought I heard your whisper, it happens all the time." And with that, the song is brought to an ending, followed by my gaze met with the blonde boy.

       "That was, once again, better than before. But I feel as if it's missing something." He explains, as he removed the wooden instrument from his arm and leaned it against the bean bag he sat in.

       Music room 3007 contained the following: I couple of bean bag seats, a coffee table, a vending machine, almost every instrument in existence in an extra storage room, tools used to record and analyze music, and posters + records we kept throughout the years.

       Truth is, music room 3007 wasn't even really a part of the school anymore. Sure, it was still on maps and the district still paid the electricity, cable, and water bill. But barely any students or teachers paid much attention to it, for it was stuffed behind the gyms, which were two large buildings that would block out any view of the smaller one that stood behind it.

      'I hope Sugawara won't have any problem with finding this place.' I think to myself, as I stand from the chair to turn the camera and microphone off.

      We would set up different amps, microphones, and cameras when recording a cover of a song. This time, it was a basic acoustic from 1993, named 'Dagger' by Slowdive.

     After turning it all off, I plop back onto the cushion. "I think we've don't this quite enough times already, 'Ruku. We should upload it already and get on to the second song. I mean, we've been here a whole hour trying to perfect 'Dagger'." I say, removing my uniform's blazer, and throwing it across the coffee table. Next came my tie, and I unhooked the first two small buttons of my white collared shirt. The music room got hot when so many electronics were in use.

     "Maybe you're right. We should probably get onto another song." He replied, running his hands in the bridge of his nose and down his neck.

      I quickly stand up from my chair and stand behind him, leaning onto his shoulders. "I think you're just tired. Are you sure you wouldn't wanna go home?"

      Toruku runs a hand up my arm, patting my shoulder, then sighs heavily. I couldn't imagine how tired he must be after today. His thoughts must've been wearing him down. "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I don't wanna leave you all alone."

      "No need, Sugawara will help me get home, remember?" I ask him, followed by a moan of protest. It worried me that Sugawara and Toruku most likely wouldn't get along, especially since both seemed so compatible at first.

      Both his hands leave mine and lay in his lap. "And what's with this Suga guy, Y/n? Is he your buddy?" His voice echoed through the band room, stabbing the back of my brain while I think for an answer that wouldn't sound suspicious. I would say no, but who knew what the future could hold.

"I dunno. But he means no harm! At least I think so.." Tired from squatting, I lift to stand on both feet properly. Toruku slides his hand away from my figure and brings it towards his face. It covers his mouth as he once again sighs. "You seem tired after today, Ruku. Is it because of Moku?"

Hopefully, I hadn't overstepped any boundaries with what I had said. Hopefully, I was remotely correct about why he looked so down. "Yeah, it is. I won't act as if it doesn't bother me because I know it bothers you too. Although it's been three years, I still feel very guilty for going on without her."

'At least he knows I'm here with him.' I thought, moving to the bean bag I had been in just a few moments ago. By her, I meant Torukus passed girlfriend, and my best friend: the reason I practically stopped living at the age of fifteen. Honestly, Toruku and I weren't even really that close. I knew her as her boyfriend and he knew me as her best friend. And as close as we were to her, we were never friends. Moku's death only brought us closer to each other, stirring up the beginning of a rock band.

      "I know what you mean. I do. Thankfully, this birthday of hers went better than the last two, wouldn't you say?" I ask, leaning on my elbows that sat on my knees.

      "Definitely. The previous ones all ended up in fights and long makeups. I guess we're just more laid back about it now," He explains, getting up from his seat, and browsing the instruments that were hung on the wall. His fingers wrap around his belt loops as he stands. "I feel bad for getting over her so quickly."

       "I know exactly what you mean. Never forget that I'm right here next to you, Toruku. That we've gotten through this together instead of alone. Although I wish you had talked to me more when it had first happened, I was all alone!" I chuckle at the last part, even if it wasn't funny at all. "I think the life we made out of our relationship has turned out for the better. Look where we are now: moving to American in about a year to sign to a label. Wouldn't she be proud we've gotten so far?"

      "Maybe you're right," Toruku says, leaning against the back wall. His hair danced over his eyes barely, as they stared right at me. "Maybe you should hit up Toru and Hajime, ask how they're doing. They went through this too, you know."

      "Yeah, I know. I haven't because I'm afraid of what they'll say, or if they even say anything at all. They're both a part of a very different social class after all. If anything, I'll probably get a simple thumbs up on my message." My voice grows low, expressing my tiredness from this conversation already.

      Toru and Hajime were two other people that used to be in my friend group with Moku throughout our childhood. Both were loud and expressive and played volleyball, but they were also very kind and friendly towards Moku, Toruku, and me. Once middle school had started, the five of us grew closer and closer by the second. We joined volleyball clubs, hung out at our houses practically every day, and grew popular throughout the years. But once Moku had passed, we all fell apart. She was what held us together after all.

       Both Hajime and Toru decided to go to another high school, and Toruku and I went to another. After that, we hadn't heard a single word from them.

      "It's worth a try, Y/n. We wouldn't want to seem inconsiderate." Toruku says as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets, as well as a lighter. After lighting one, the smoke leaves his mouth slowly, as he continues. "I wish you would at least try to make amends between them. You were closer to them than I ever was."

     "I'll try. Just not now."

———

       After another hour of practice with Toruku, the two of us stood silent on our phones while we waited for Sugawara. Something told me that he had gotten lost. Either that, or he just forgot about me, which I wouldn't blame him for.

       But right when I was about to tell Toruku that we should go home, a message from an unknown number had shown up on the top of my phone screen that alarmed me.

      [Text Message: ###-###-####]

Hey, I can't find the music room. It's not on the school campus. Either that, or it's the most invisible classroom ever brought to this school.

     [Reply to ###-###-####]

I'm assuming this is Sugawara? Sorry, I don't have your number saved. If otherwise, the wrong number.

       After the second the message gave me a preview, I fully entered the screen. It had a profile picture, but not a contact name. Although, that was my very first-year-like of me to be irresponsible. [Sugawara] read the title after I'd edited it, and nothing more. Only a few brief messages that we had just sent to each other.

Sugawara

  

Hey, I can't find the music room. It's not on school campus. Either that, or it's the most invisible classroom ever brought to this school.

I'm assuming this is Sugawara? Sorry, I don't have your number saved. If otherwise, the wrong number.

Actually, right number! But seriously... I have no idea where the hell you are. Is it off-campus? I might just cry if I don't figure this out. I've been at it for a solid ten minutes.

Ten minutes?? Damn boy, you could've just asked to meet me in the cafeteria or something. Toruku and I have been waiting here for a while as well.

Sorry!!

No need to apologize.

- you have started sharing your location with {Sugawara}-

Thanks. See you in a bit.

      After discussing where I was hanging, I decided to look more into this saved contact. 'Had I really been so close to him as to have discussions with him?' I think as I decide to read a few more messages above our most recent convo. They only consisted of homework answers, tutoring questions, and a few more comments about school festivals and such. A good ten invites to a volleyball game were stored in there as well. I hadn't realized how much he had meant to me just two years ago. Time flies, taking most of your memories with you.

      A few more moments went by before a knock came upon the room's entrance door, as well as the voice of someone behind it. "Uhm— hello..? Is this the right room?"

     "No, go away," Toruku replies in a deeper, scarier voice as he shuffled towards the door to reveal Sugawara standing there alone with a frightened expression.

      Suga sighed, putting a hand over his chest while he smiled. "That gave me a heart attack." He says, fixing his eyes towards my sitting figure. "Ready to go?"

     I nod, lifting from my seat and stretching out my arms while yawning loudly. "God, I'm tired," I mumble to myself, gathering my bag and the tie and jacket I had taken off, before slowly walking over towards Sugawara. "Isn't it after practice? Shouldn't you be all tired and worked out?"

    "Oh, no. Today was only focused on the new players, which honestly didn't go so well." He explained, finishing with a soft chuckle. Though I could tell it was filled with disappointment, for the way he looked down on the floor was purely depressing.

      But quickly steered the conversation another way to distract him from it; that was the least I could do. "Oh, well, today it was just Toruku and me. But thankfully we just recorded some extra vocals so we didn't have to record the rest of the teams' jobs."

     Sugawara distracts himself, taking small glances around the room as I explain to him what we did. He observes the different colors and pictures on the walls, the furniture we helped ourselves to, and the instruments gathered onto the wall. "It looks quite comfortable in here. To be honest, I'm surprised that the school even lets you decorate this place all by yourselves."

       "They didn't, they just don't know about it. It's quite convenient if you ask me.." I mumble, shuffling from one foot to the other. What I said was no lie, we were truly blessed to have had a room to ourselves here on campus. If it wasn't for the band teacher who had shown it to us, we probably would've spent our practice time in a garage where there's no AC or comfortable floors.

      Meanwhile, Toruku explained to Sugawara the reasoning behind each decoration, I check the timing. It was 6:00 PM, just in time for my mother to get home from work.

      "Should we get going?" I ask the grey-haired boy, as he's brought back to reality. He and Toruku sharply turn, pausing their supposedly intriguing conversation, as he nodded to my question.

       "I guess so. Well, thank you for showing me this place, I never would've discovered it if it wasn't for you two." Sugawara states, bowing towards the blonde boy with a cigar.

      "Alright, I'll catch you later, Y/n. And it was nice meeting you today, Sugawara." After I have a small hug to Toruku and said my goodbyes, Suga and I were out the door.

      Our walk began with the two of us climbing down a few stairs, and jogging towards where the sidewalk actually began. From there on, it was easy getting towards the main part of campus, and walking home would be a piece of cake. For Sugawara, I mean.

       "So, do you walk home every day?" I ask, tightening my hands around my bento box. The silence between us rested heavily on my chest; not a single word left his mouth.

       But it may have been because he was stuck in his own little world, for soon after my question, he blinked his eyes a couple of times and cleared his throat. "Oh, no— not really. I only walk after practice when I stay late. But on free days, like in the morning, I ride the bus."

       Nodding, I explain my way of getting to and from school as well. "Me too. Well, usually my mother would drive me before school even started. Either that or I would ride my skateboard and hide it in some gutter. You know how angry the school gets about skateboards." I laugh, hoping he'd approve of joking with school rules. But knowing Sugawara, he probably already knew I bend some.

       "Ah, yes. That's convenient. But how far did you live before moving into [Neighborhood]? Surely not too far, right?" He questions, looking down at me for an honest answer.

        I widen my eyes at this, making my answer to his questions obvious already. "Uhm.. no! Just a mile and a half away, not a big deal.." My head turns the other way while I giggle at Sugawara's shock. It wasn't a big deal for me at all, I didn't mind getting the few extra steps in the morning. As for him, he must have not had to walk that far every day to understand. I didn't blame him for being so surprised. It wasn't every day you find someone who voluntarily walks that far.

      "Oh— that's.. that's a lot! I'm sorry that you had to do that. It must have been hell! But thankfully you have someone to join you on transportation, right?" Sugawara gives me side-eyes, as a smile appeared on his pale face.

      "Yeah.. you're right." My sentence runs low in the cold, shaking as I shift from the sidewalk to the road. The pavement felt hard and slippery due to the transition from winter to spring, yet it was still freezing outside.

      "You know... it was strange bumping into you today. To be honest, I feel like I'm fifteen again. I think that's just how you make others feel, you know?" My words come out abruptly, but I didn't mind. After today's long day all I wanted was one honest conversation.

     Thankfully, Sugawara felt the same I did. "Spending time with each other must have brought back lots of memories, even if they were small." He says to me, observing the way my feet jumped from the curb to the street.

      The feeling he brought was like a scent from years ago when you're a little kid. Whether you're reading by a window, or running through a meadow, you'd forgotten it ever even tickled your senses.

     "It's kind of strange. Even if we weren't best friends, you still meant a lot to me. I'm wondering whether or not you're still the same, and if that could be brought back." I explain, drawing out my arms to make a tree-like pose while I played hopscotch with the roads. The keychains that hung on my badge made a 'clunk!' noise against the ID, meanwhile, I discussed. "We've both changed so much, Sugawara."

       "You're right, we have. But for the better, you know? I think at the moment I'm mentally healthier than in the past year. And as for you, I think anyone can see that. I don't mean that your time of grief was a mistake, but I'm happy that you've been nicer to yourself."

       "Yeah, me too." My words stutter, interrupted by the loud engine behind me. Sugawara and I quickly turn towards the noise, widening our eyes at how close the vehicle was. Suddenly, an ear-piercing honk is signaled from the driver, and I'm quickly pulled from in front of the car to under a streetlight in one's arms.

       The action is hasty and happened in just a split second, but enough to save me from being run over. Barely comprehending what had just occurred, I freeze in place just like the slippery road. And as the car honks off, I'm left, once again, alone with Suga. Only this time, uncomfortably in his arms.

     Lightning travels down my back once I realize I was being held by a stronger, warmer body. Both my arms were being tightly held by his, and my body barely being separated from his by an inch. I stared right into his eyes, as he did so as well.

     "Y/n, you. you've got to be careful. Be careful."

      Sugawara's words ring in my ears, as I rapidly blink to regain consciousness. Immediately after, a scatter to search for my school bag, which was thrown only a few feet away from me. After retrieving it, I quickly stand onto my feet and turn to Suga, who's already prepared to continue our walk.

      "I'll be careful."

      With that, the two of us continue our journey towards home in silence once more.

      I've gotta be careful with Sugawara.

——

Thanks for coming back to read :) I know my story is crappy but I've only been writing for a little so you could understand why. Please please vote for my chapters, thank you.

- star

[leah-halliwell92]

Too Much Love Can Kill You

Summary: Soul marks are found through touch and song, one must sing to find their half and touch completes their connection. To reject your mark is to sentence them to death. you have been on tour with Brian, Roger and Rufus for a year and have known them for nearly four. What happens when you find out along the way that you are the mark of one Brian May?

Previously:

“I guess I do need to call home don’t I?” You say lightly to no one in particular.

“Whatever you think is best, you know I’ll support you,” Brian said coming to hug you from behind.

“I second that…but I don’t think there’s room for me in that hug,” Etta said brightly.

This caused the room to light up with laughter making the day not so dreary and uncertain.

Prologue – Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 – Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 – Chapter 10

A/N: I know...FINALLY! Sorry for being a bit MIA from this story but some stuff threw my brain to hell. But she’s back! Here’s the next chapter my dears. THANKS ALL SO MUUUUCH FOR READING AND FOLLOWING AND ALL DEM SHARING!!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!❤️

A special thanks to @queensdivas (AND FOR GIVING ME THE LAP DANCE IDEA), @disasterdeacy and @glamrockmonarch for listening to my rambles about this chapter! 

Chapter 11

The day continued on a higher note after that so you and Brian left Etta’s little establishment with a ticket and pass for the concert the next day and the mutual promise that contact would not be lost between you. 

“Brian ask her all about the non-marked trail walk her dad thought was good adventure!” Etta called after the two of you as you basically pushed Brian out the door.

“Adventure?” Brian asked a smirk on his face.

“You don’t want to know,” you say seriously as you pulled him onto the street.

“Oh now I really have to know,” he said with a laugh throwing his arm over your shoulder to pull you close to him.

You sighed and pulled him to the nearby park.

“Ok...this park here,” you motion to said place, “was being expanded to include walking/running/biking trail of various distances as an addition to the already set up kid’s area. Said kid’s playground was getting a major clean up, they took the chance to set up the trails.”

You started going to the entrance of the trials. There is a sign to the right hand side, a menu of sorts, that showed the trails, rest areas and bathrooms are located depending on the length of the trail.

“As you can see its a pretty ingenious thing for the town, considering taking small kiddies to the gym is never a good idea,” you say with a small laugh, “Anyway, my dad was one of the people consulted with regarding the lengths of the trails. He thought it a good idea to bring me along since my mom had the flu at the time. I was between seven and ten years old at the time and it was summer.”

You could tell Brian could see where this was going but let you continue.

“I’d seen on T.V that trails like these were marked so that people didn’t get lost,” you said with a shrug as you pulled him into the trail, “Dad failed to tell me  that since they were just beginning to map out the routes, the marks for the respective turns hadn’t even been put up yet.”

“Who got lost from whom?” Brian asked as they came to the halfway point in the trail and sat at the bench.

“Dad went to the portable toilet that was out of view from what is the main road,” you said with an embarrassed flush, “Meanwhile I found bugs and animals and a snake...”

Brian chuckled at this knowing your love for all snakes.

“I wandered a bit away from the the ‘bathroom’ area and found out too late I’d gotten lost,” you clear your throat and said, “But that wasn’t the real adventure though.”

“Oh?”

“He found me but when we made it back to the toilet, dad quickly figured that we were both lost,” you finished with a small laugh.

“Wait...your father, who’d brought you on this ‘adventure’ got lost while helping map the trail?” Brian said with a laugh of his own.

“Shush you, it wasn’t all that bad,” you say with a small shrug, “I was with my dad and we explored it as if it were the dark forest from “Harry Potter.”

“I bet,” he said before asking, “Is this where all those sketches come from?”

You nod.

“Why not come back with your sketchbook then?” He asked curiously.

“We can go now if you like, we have enough time and daylight for a quick rough sketch,” you say and stand. 

Together you finished the trail and made your way back to your hotel where you picked up your art material satchel and were on your way. 

You weren’t going to mention this to Brian but it would be a bit awkward to have him see you draw. Your drawing and the process isn’t something you usually let people do, this is going to also be very interesting in that case.

You go into your room and begin the process of digging through your suitcase for your materials. Unbeknownst to you, Brian followed after you and was having a rather nice time getting an eyeful of your backside in the air as you dug through your suitcase.

He leant on the door jam arms crossed and a harmless looking half grin on his face as a memory of the morning’s events popped into his head.

“I’m ready,” you say straightening from your bent position. 

You turn around to see Brian looking rather suggestively at you.

“What?” You ask a shy smile working itself on your face.

“Nothing,” he says as he approaches you and pulls you into a heated kiss.

You pulled away for air and give him a small laugh as you say, “This is not nothing...”

He runs a hand down your back to get a (very thorough) feel of your backside and ass.

“You started something this morning,” he said giving your your ass a small tap.

“Oh?” You say playing coy, “I did?”

He pulls you ever closer with a huff, “I was thinking...”

He turned to look at the hallway pleased when he saw and heard nothing from the suite.

“I was thinking we should finish what, or rather you should finish what you started,” he said taking a seat on the made bed.

You looked at him a half grin on your face and nodded giving in, but before doing anything you went to at least push the door closed. You planned on going to the bathroom to change but was stopped.

“Where are you off to?” Brian asked as he went to changed position on the bed to sitting with his back to the head board.

“Bathroom to change,” you said with a small shrug.

He shook his head at that and motioned you over.

“I have something else in mind, if you are not opposed to it that is,” he says crossing and uncrossing his legs a the ankles. 

You gave him a loving grin shooting some reassurance his way through your bond.

“Well...” he cleared his throat as a blush crawled up his neck onto his cheeks before coughing out, “Lap dance?”

You nodded as you processes his request.

“What song did you have in mind?” You ask sitting at the edge of the bed and taking off your shoes and socks.

You felt the bashfulness through the bond but before you could ask you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans.

You fish it out to see “Fat Bottomed Girls” as answer to your question from him.

You look to him a smirk on your face already knowing what you were going to do...who were you kidding you have no idea how you were going to do anything. 

“Alright, I can work with that,” you say with a playful smirk, “Question here is if you want me just to dance or if you want a strip tease?”

You felt the arousal at that being a suggestion and nearly giggled at his sudden boyishness.

You took your phone and flipped through your playlist to the chosen (and personal favorite) song. Setting the open phone on the nightstand beside him, you move to straddle him.

“Wh–”

You pull him into deep and yearning kiss.

Brian puts his hands on your hips and pulls you close before popping the button of your jeans open and sliding the zipper down.

You pulled away to set some dance rules when the he grumbled, “Fuck it.” 

He pulled at your shirt and attached himself to your neck.

You were hit by a tilting wave of arousal through your bond as his hands went from your hips to your bra. This set the pace as clothing seemed to fly off your bodies as the touches and kisses became more heated. 

Clothing off you somehow found yourself pinned down by Brian. 

He reached down to your clit and moaned at how wet you felt.

You moaned at the feel of a finger entering you bucking your hips for more.

“Thought you said you wanted a lap dance,” you say breathlessly as he kisses his way to a plump nipple.

“I have a better idea,” he said and proceeded to press play on the song.

You gasped as the song began and he took the time to suckle at one breast while palming the other.

You pressed your center to his as he shifted his hips just right to tease your entrance.

When the beat picked up he slammed into you making you moan loudly as he thrust into you to the beat of the song. You moaned at each thrust wrapping your arms around him pulling him close to you as he took you.

He paused when the song slowed down some and took this time to flip him onto his back.

‘Get on your bikes and ride!’

You smirk at Brian at the sound of that and moaned as you sat up still impaled on his cock. 

You ground your hips on his as the end of the song came. You kept with your steady (yet gentle) pace your hands atop his where they were on your hips.

The moans and mewls coming from him nearly made you cum right then and there but you held strong wanting to cum with him. 

“Wait...wait,” he gasped.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You said stopping your movements.

Instead of answering he sat up and wrapped his arms around you pulling you close, and making sure you don’t pull out.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said breathlessly, “Just wanted to hold you.”

You smile down at him and kiss his forehead as you (somehow find the strength) to shift your hips in a slow and sensual rhythm. His hands running all over your body as you brought the both of you over the edge.

You wrapped your arms around him as he hugged you to him.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear.

You press your forehead to his and say, “I love you too.”

As soon as you say this “Misfire” decides to start playing.

“And that’s the bell ringing for the both of you to get dressed because we need to head to the rehearsals!” Roger yelled through the door, “And I don’t even want to know if you misfired or not!”

You groaned as you let your head fall on Brian’s shoulder as he laughed.

“We’ll be right out Rog!” He called not letting you move an inch before turning to you, “We will be doing something like this again.”

You blushed at that and said, “You owe me a lap dance.”

He laughed at that and proceeded to help you up to get cleaned up for the evening of work that lay ahead.

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[blueseasfanfics]

Hellooo! Could you write 12 with Sherlock?? I would like to see a cute one with him ⚘

Murders of Passion

Pairing: Sherlock X Reader

Word Count: 2889

A/N: Sorry if it’s a bit too long, got the slightest bit carried away, lol

You only moved in because Mrs. Hudson and John pleaded and you were desperate.

“Is that really all you have, dear?” Mrs. Hudson met you at the door with a smile, referring to the backpack slung over your shoulder.

“Well, yeah I had to leave early-”

“Let’s get you all set up then, it’s a small room but John had always spent most of the time in Sherlocks’ anyways.” Mrs. Hudson was basically dragging you up the stairs with a vice grip on your wrist, as if to keep you from running out the door.

Before you knew it, you were outside a door with the screeching of an animal being heard inside.

“Oh, he’s in a bit of a mood.” Mrs. Hudson tuts next to you as she knocks on the door briskly.

“Sherlock? I’m coming in.” She declares and pushes the door open, but before either of you can say a thing before a gun is pointed at you and the sound of it cocking rings through the air.

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson almost screams, but he simply tuts and shoots above the both of your heads and hits the doorframe. Mrs. Hudson scurries away shouting about insanity, and you both watch her as she leaves.

You turn away to see the man you guess to be Sherlock Holmes has thrown the gun haphazardly on the sofa next to him and has gone back to playing the violin.

Well, more like sawing at the strings with the bow.

“Do I have wood-dust in my hair?” You say, walking in and looking at yourself in the entryway mirror.

“Shut up.”

“You’re treating that violin like you’re garroting it.”

“Who even are you, exactly?” You watch him suddenly stop playing and whirl over to face you, and your eyes connect in the mirror.

“I’m your new room-”

“Not new to London but used to spend much time in the countryside, used to have a cat but no time soon, left quickly but not out of eagerness, and you particularly like the color blue. Now was it John or Hudson that told you you have to babysit me.” He has been steadily advancing towards you until he towers over you, still locking eyes in the mirror.

Glancing over yourself in curiosity, you stay silent.

“It was both.” He says lowly, and goes back to the violin, picking it up again and settling it against his chin.

“I’ve never spent time in the countryside.” You say succinctly, adjusting your bag. “There are other reasons I’m comfortable around guns. I guess you’ll have that to figure out.”

You turn back around to see Sherlock is frozen with the bow set on the strings, clearly listening.

“The rest is amazing though, I just have to find out how you knew.”

“You don’t wish to ask? Say ‘that’s so fascinating, am I that easy to read?’.” Sherlock mocks slightly.

“No, I know enough about you for that. Bedroom in the back?”

“No.”

“I’ll make some tea in a minute.”

Sherlock continues playing the violin as you walk away, if a bit more melodic than before but that could simply be the distance.

You set your bag down, looked over the room, and left just as quickly.

Sherlock has stopped playing now, sitting crouched on the armchair facing out the window in eerie stillness.

The famous Sherlock Holmes looks like a statue, but that comparison had been made already in dozens of papers and blogs. The famous Sherlock Holmes, as beautiful as a statue with a heart of stone to go with it.

Maybe just the heart of stone part was in the papers.

You look around the dismal kitchen, pour an old eye-and-tea in the trash, and make a tea for the bored genius mind.

“Do you have a case?” Asked innocently but it didn’t require a response. The broken string on the violin was clue enough of that.

He had been like this for weeks now, the only times you two talked were when clients came in and he begrudgingly (with a hint of pride and drama) told you how he solved them in a manic rant.

“Could I see it?” You bring him a cup of tea, but he still doesn’t move. Looking around him, you see papers scattered everywhere, photos and scraps of notes tossed around in no particular order.

Unless of course, the order has a mind of its own.

A photo of a man and a woman, holding hands, stabbed in the heart. In fact, photos. Couples, of every gender and race known to man, dead and holding hands. In alleyways, sitting atop couch seats in living rooms, two even seem to be in a basket in the London Eye.

Nothing to do with each other except for love.

The one closest to you piqued your interest, and picking it up your eyes settled on the defining feature of each photo. Their hands.

“They’re stitched together.” You say quietly, and that seems to have thrown Sherlock out of his trance because he snatches the photo out of your hand.

“Of course they were, it’s the first thing one sees.”

“Why are they stitched together?”

“Murder mark. Sign of the killer, stitches them together as a show of their love or whatever John stupidly said.”

“Stupidly? Do you have any better idea?”

“No need for one, stupid ideas fit well with stupid people. What I don’t know is, how they are all connected.” He jumps out of his chair now, grabbing all the photos together.

“Well, they’re all connected by hand.”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Wasn’t it funny.”

He paused.

“Yes.” And continued on his tirade, grabbing push pins and stabbing them into his wall, stepping back and glaring at them. You waltz up to his side, also looking.

“Are they connected by their job?”

“No, none worked under the same employer.” He mutters, and you wonder if he registers you as another person at this point.

“Family?”

“Not even a distant cousin.”

“Social life?”

“Haven’t found any mention of connected friends in any way.”

“Forget about that, how did they meet each other?”

Silence for barely a millisecond, and then he whirls around to look down at you.

“Who are you again?”

“Your new roommate. John and Hudson approved.”

“And you have been put here to-”

“Babysit you was the term you used, to have a place to sleep is mine.”

“Hmm. And what exactly is your line of work.”

“Babysitting you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and he turns back around to the photos, but glancing down at you.

“How do you think they all met.”

“What? How am I supposed to know.”

“You obviously noticed something, you were the one that said it. Come on, look in that little brain of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it.”

You grumble but examine the photos more closely anyway.

Each couple had their hands stitched together, hastily but still bonded. Normal dress, if a bit more skimpy on everyone, hair down when they had it and most lipstick smudged. The shoes were-wait.

“They met at parties, didn’t they?” You whisper.

“Explain it.”

“Well, her shoes are off and gone. She’s barefoot, but her feet aren’t that dirty. She must have taken them off because they were hurting her after a long night out. It explains everyone’s clothing too, party clothing.” You look up at Sherlock, who’s grinning.

“You have somewhere to be tonight?”

—

“My first night living with you and we’re already on a date.”

“This isn’t a date.”

The both of you are sitting in the back of a taxi-cab, driving to some party Sherlock said his contact told him about.

“You do know most people don’t go to a party in a tuzedo.” You remark, looking him up and down.

“They don’t? Aren’t parties formal?” He furrows a brow and looks over himself.

“No. Didn’t you notice what the men were wearing? Take off the suit and the bowtie.”

“Are you asking me to strip in the back of a taxi?”

“I said the suit, not the shirt.” He grumbles as he obliges.

“Better now?” He says, almost mockingly, but you ignore him as you reach over and unbutton his top button, hand resting on his neck for just a moment.

Silent, he watches you as you look over him and shrug.

“Good enough.”

The rest of the ride is silent until you pull up to your location, a street away from the actual party.

“Why exactly are we so far away again?” You sigh, hugging yourself against the cold.

“They seemed to be fond of each other in every couple. Not like two people in a long relationship together, they were new and all over themselves. If we want to be targeted, we have to go in separately.”

“So I’m just supposed to go in, mingle for a little while, and then what.”

“Come up to me and chat me up.”

“Chat you up? Someone has an ego, doesn’t he.”

“What, would you rather be chatted up?”

“No, not really.” You scoff.

“Good then. Run along. I’ll see you in a minute.”

“You better.” You stalk off in the almost deserted neighbourhood, finally coming up on a building with barely contained noise inside. Stepping past a couple of smokers, you push open the doors to be affronted by a wall of loud music, stomping, and yelling.

Lights of all colors came from every direction, and there seemed to be a huddle of people around a corner of the place. Bar, imaginably.

This was the most cliche party you had ever been to.

You walked in, smiling at a few people, making your way to the bar somehow. Next to you, a woman started talking to you and as you strained to hear her you noticed Sherlock walking in and looking around seriously.

He looked out of place, with lights illuminating his face, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from him for a moment until he notices you staring at him.

He jerks his head to the side and breaks eye contact, and you listen again to the woman (apparently newly single and named Olivia) who was now pulling you to the dance floor.

You were supposed to mingle, weren’t you? You quickly oblige, losing yourself slowly into the dance, Olivia sticking very close by you the whole time.

Time. How long had it been? There had been quite a few songs since you started, it was probably time to find Sherlock-

“Hello there.” You hear a deep voice right next to your ear and you fight back the flutter you feel in your chest.

You whirl around and immediately see Sherlock pressed against you by the overbearing crowd and you quickly gather yourself.

“Hello.” You yell back, and Olivia seems to have noticed you not next to her anymore as she has made her way over to you.

“Care for a dance?” Sherlock asks, catching hold of your wrist and pulling you closer, and you smile suspiciously.

“Actually she’s with someone!” Olivia yells, and you laugh it off.

“It’s fine Olivia, I’ll see you soon alright?” You shout back and Sherlock quickly pulls you away to another part of the crowd.

“Do you even know how to dance?” You shout and he scoffs.

“Of course I do.”

“Well, this doesn’t seem much like a waltz and you have your hand on my waist.”

Sherlock quickly drops his hand and coughs.

“We can’t just stand here in the middle of the dance floor.” You remark, and he sighs.

“Just jump around a little and we’ll go to the bar.”

“Don’t we have to seem like we’re flirting? Through dance?”

“Do you really want to copy them?” He points at a couple that were rubbing up against each other and you cough nervously.

“No. But just dance.” You start to move to the rhythm of the music, waving your hips and bobbing your head, and you see Sherlock start to copy you.

You get closer to him after a little bit, and quickly grab his hands and put them on your waist.

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow, and you nod your head over your shoulder.

“Olivia. She’s been watching us.”

“I’ve noticed as well. But she’s been watching others too. The two in the corner having an affair, and the two too drunk to remember their own names.”

“How do we make sure she chooses us then, if she’s the killer?”

“How many times have you been chatted up?” He says quite seriously, and you laugh.

“Enough times.”

“How many.”

“Why, you jealous.”

Nothing from him but a grimace and he looks back up at the crowd.

“Fine. Once, maybe twice.”

“Makes more sense.” You pinch him at that. “What’s the next step for them?”

“Drink, then a bit of fun in an alley I would think.”

“Would think?”

“Yeah. I didn’t always get to that part of the evening.”

“Why not?” A surprisingly genuine question coming from him.

“What, you’re not going to say that makes sense either?”

“You’re an attractive woman. It would only make sense that they would want to continue the evening.”

“Why thank you, Sherlock.”

“You seem easy enough too, at any rate.”

“Always have to have a barb, don’t you. How about we skip the drink and walk past her to the alley, see if she follows.” Before he can answer, you’ve grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him with you, feeling her stare as you walk past and walk out the open door.

“Has she followed?” You ask, and Sherlock barely takes a glance behind.

“She’s watching from inside.”

“How do we get her out here instead?” You grumble, and Sherlock whirls you to face him and then grabs you by the waist.

“Do you trust me.”

“I barely know you.”

He quickly moves you up against a wall, eyes staring straight into your own. They were grayer than you had thought, and now very close. He moves a hand to your neck, fingers cradling your cheek and jaw, and your heart starts pumping loud enough that you can hear it.

“Is she watching us.” He mutters and you try to blink out of your stupor, glancing over his shoulder.

“Y-yeah.”

“When I kiss you, try to not fall in love with me.”

“Sure, only if you stop falling in love with me.”

“Too late.” Was the last thing he said before he crashed his lips into yours.

He was clumsy, careless, inexperienced but still powerful, and you quickly lost track of anything else.

After a minute or two, or probably shorter, he grabs your hand and leads you down the alley, holding you close. You’re right up against him, your ear to his ribcage, and you can hear his heart pounding.

“She’s behind us. We’ll turn the corner, go down a bit until we get to the skatepark at the bottom of the street. Then you run. Understand?”

You can’t formulate words just yet, heart pounding out of either excitement or fear, and follow him along.

Once you get to the building, Sherlock quickly turns a corner and brings you both into the shadows. He holds a finger to his lips as you hear someones quick and quiet footsteps, that suddenly stop.

“She’s taken her shoes off.” You whisper in his ear and he nods, crouching down lower until finally he lets your wrist go and pushes you away.

“Run.”

You do so as you see Olivia come out of the shadows suddenly, leaping onto Sherlock with a glint of metal in her hand, and you hear him grunt in the darkness as he tries to fight her off but she obviously has the upper hand. Quickly, you hide behind a low wall and look around for anything, but all that’s there is paper and bags.

Your eyes finally settle on your shoes.

Wedges. Big, heavy, can pack a punch.

Stripping them both of and clutching one in your hand, you quickly dash behind ramps and walls to get behind the fighting duo, and as you get closer you see Olivia has gained the upper hand, straddling his chest and and lifting her knife high above his heart.

You creep up behind her and smash her upside the head with the wooden wedge, shoving her off by the shoulder with your other foot.

“Took you long enough.” You merely said as you stood himself up and dusted himself off.

“What, not even a thank you?”

“For what exactly?”

“For saving your life, you numbskull!”

“You really think I didn’t have it under control?”

“You seemed to be under her knife.”

“And you seemed to be above it.”

“That barely makes sense, so I’m going to count it as a thanks from you.”

“I think I’ll be fine with you as a roommate.”

“You bloody better be.”

You both are breathing heavily, only the moon shining a weak gleam on the both of you.

“Did John warn you about me?”

“Only that you would very quickly be one of the most important men in my life. And that you can be a stuck-up egomaniac.”

“I will be.”

He really was right about everything.

——

——

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[rhainontheshelves]

Remember

Member: Bang Chan {Stray Kids}

Genre: Fluff, semi-smut? Not full-blown but it’s still there, angst towards the end

A/N: I’ve had this in my WIPs for a while and really wanted to release something! If anyone is interested in a prequel or a sequel I can certainly do that. Happy reading! - Rhin

    “... How long are you going to stay on my lap?”

    “However long it takes to finish this melody. Deal with it.” I said, plunking out a string of notes on the keyboard. Figuring out a concrete sheet of music was difficult when all you had was some sound clips Chan had come up with years ago. But, nevertheless, I managed to connect them and came up with a pretty good composition. I saved the file with a little “Yay!” and leaned back.

    Chan groaned as my weight shifted further back on his legs. “Damn (Y/N), how many cheeseburgers did you eat today?”

    “Not as many as you. How many did you order, four?” I smirked.

    “It was only three, excuse me! And they were singles, you can’t blame me for cheating the system and getting three singles for less than a triple.”

    “Only because we’re broke and ordering off the dollar menu,” I said, twisting around to face him, “and two medium fries! Who are you, an unhealthy version of Gaston?”

    “Hey, don’t compare me to that jerk!” Chan tried hard to keep a straight offended face. “And I’m very healthy, thank you very much.”

    A couple moments of silence was enough to break my mask and burst out laughing. Chan’s face was too good not to. He chuckled along with me and stroked my hair as I leaned into his chest, trying to pull myself together.

    “Wow, I’m tired,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “What time is it?”

    Chan glanced over to the computer. “Midnight on the dot.”

    “We have officially spent five hours in this dumb room.” I got up and grabbed a Pepsi from the minifridge. “Want one?”

    All Chan had to do was hold a hand out for me to toss one to him. Together, we unscrewed the lids and took huge swigs. We were in for a long night, so we needed all the energy we could get.

    “Let’s take a break.” Chan said, rolling over to the couch and propping his feet up. “My brain is tired from trying to pull feelings and experiences from years ago up for lyrics.”

    I flopped on the couch, thinking of a way I could help out. To be honest, I hadn’t done anything of that nature since I graduated, and that was just about a year ago. The memory was pretty hazy (it was a black-out type of night), so that wouldn’t help out a lot.

    “(Y/N), do you trust me?” Chan asked out of the blue.

    “What is that supposed to mean?”

    “Well, if this song is truly about sex, wouldn’t we need some moans in the background or something? The good ol’ bed creaks are getting a bit overused in this industry.”

    It took me a minute to process what Chan meant. “Wait… you want me to-”

    “No! Not if you don’t want to,” Chan’s cheeks turned red, “we can always pull audio from porn or something!”

    I looked at my best friend, sighed, and shook my head. “You’re lucky we need to get this track done by tomorrow afternoon,” I got up, turned off the lights, and went into the booth.

    “Why did you-”

    “So I can still have some dignity by the end of the night,” I said into the microphone. “Can we just get a series and cut it into the song? It’s too tedious to do stuff at exact moments.”

    “That’s fine by me.” Chan affirmed. “Just say so when you’re done.”

    I awkwardly stood in the booth for a bit, trying to figure out the logistics of this. The microphone that was hooked up wasn’t omnidirectional, so getting into the right position for the audio to be captured was a big problem. Also the fact that Chan was here made me extremely nervous. I didn’t know why; we could usually talk for hours about this stuff. Maybe it was because it was for real instead of the usual imaginary scenarios.

    Pulling up the chair, I sat down in it and carefully reached out toward the mic stand. I found the knob that adjusted the height and brought it down to its lowest position. Then, making myself as comfortable as I could be, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand down to my clit.

    “Anytime now, (Y/N).” Chan’s voice boomed. The sudden fracture in the silence scared me and made me lose my start.

    “Damn it Chan, I was just getting warmed up,” I muttered. “I was just starting to get focused.”

    “Oh, sorry.” His voice sounded tiny over the speaker system.

    “You’re good, just don’t do that again, okay?”

    “Got it.” With that, the static of an open line cut off, leaving me back at square one.

    I sat there for a bit, trying to bring up a picture in my head that I could jack off to. Nothing in particular was coming to mind, except feeling something hard as I sat on Chan’s lap just a couple minutes ago. I zoned in on that feeling, and started to find something I could associate it with… and then my brain betrayed me.

    “Hey Chan… do you remember that party we went to a couple years back? You needed to blow off some steam from being cooped up with the guys too long and I needed some relief from college?”

    Static started buzzing again. “Yeah, I remember that. It was a fun night.”

    “I don’t know any other way to say this, but… I can’t get this image of you out of my head… I think we did something that night.”

    “I wouldn’t be surprised if we did. We were pretty drunk.”

    “No, you don’t understand. All I can remember after the sixth shot of whiskey is undoing someone’s belt while they marked me up. Their shirt was red, like that one button-up one you have that I like so much.”

    “Oh… that… yeah, that was me.”

    “You remember?” Honestly, I was shocked. I was certain that Chan got even drunker than I did.

    “Yeah, every second. I wasn’t as drunk as you then.”

    “Well, tell me about it then, since I obviously don’t remember.”

    “Um, okay.” There was some hesitation there. I knew Chan well enough to know that this was important to him for some reason; he would have told me about it sooner if it wasn’t.

    “Hey, it’s okay Chan.” I soothed him. “It won’t mess up our friendship.”

    “Are you sure?” his voice was shaky.

    “I’m absolutely positive.”

    “Well, it started when you pulled me away from the dance floor. Apparently I was grinding on some girl you didn’t like. I could tell you were getting faded, so I didn’t take it too seriously. As you were ranting about it, you started to say peculiar things. Like, “you have no right to look that fine” and “if you had another button undone and your sleeves already rolled up when you picked me up we would have never left the house”, things like that. Obviously I had turned you on and drunk (Y/N) gets really bold and horny. I don’t really remember what you said next, but I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you.”

    I was starting to remember, and as I recalled the atmosphere and how Chan looked that night, I started to get wet. That was one of the top times where I just wanted to hop on his dick and ride the night away. I wasn’t proud of it, but it happened. My hand started rubbing circles around my clit.

    “You backed me up against a wall and started unbuttoning my shirt. I realized where we were going at that point and quickly picked you up and headed towards the nearest room so we could have some privacy. Luckily it was a bedroom and the door was able to be locked. You started working on my belt and I gave you two hickeys on your shoulder. Once that belt was gone, you started unzipping your dress and I lost it. Lust just burned through me and you seemed pleased that you brought it on.”

    Chan was slightly caught off guard as whimpers came through the other end of the mic. (Y/N) must be remembering and getting off on that. He couldn’t deny that his mind was roaming back to then as well.

    “Chan, don’t stop talking. I want to remember everything.” (Y/N) whined.

    Chan could feel the lust creeping up again. It made him cocky, it made him want to hear what (Y/N) had to offer. “Everything?”

    “Everything.”

    “When your dress hit the floor, I picked you up and threw you on the bed, trapping you under my body. You pulled me down for another kiss, but I was already there. As we made out, my hands traveled around, unlatching your bra and pulling your underwear down. We pulled apart for air and I swear you looked like an angel, all out on display for me. You begged for me to do something, anything… so I got on my knees and pulled you forward until I could eat you out properly.”

    Chan described the rest of the encounter in graphic detail, and that was more than enough to help me out. By the end of it, I had cummed twice and moaned up a storm. I was confident that I had recorded good material.

    “Alright, that’s a wrap.” I stated as I buttoned up my jeans.

    Chan didn’t answer.

    “Chan?” I called as I exited the room.

    He wasn’t at the soundboard. The door was wide open though.

    “Chris?” I called again, sticking my head out of the door.

    No one was there to hear me.

    Concerned, I picked my phone off of the coffee table and there was a notification for a text - from Chan.

    Went out to grab some food. I’ll be back soon

[noramoya]

Mixing

You've seen all the photos of Bruce Swedien at a giant console, intently mixing a song. If fact when I started writing this post I was digging through some of them, but I decided to just show some mix notes and let your mind do the rest. Photos are so cold sometimes. I don't want to write specifically about the "Smooth Criminal" mix (I might comment on the notes in a bit), but rather what it was like when Bruce really settled in to mix a song.

FIRST, some terminology: -Appetizer, Entree, Dessert. =Tracking, Overdubs, Mixing.I came up with this analogy for my seminars because I like food, and it roughly illustrates how many albums were/are recorded. The appetizer/tracking is when the project starts. It moves fast with laying down drum tracks and bass and keyboards and scratch vocals. The song starts to take shape, but it has a long way to go.

NEXT, comes the entree/overdubs, which are the background vocals, guitars, polished keyboards, percussion, strings/orchestra, choir, and course lead vocals. The song now really starts to come together and almost takes on a life of its own.

FINALLY comes dessert/mixing. The musicians are gone, the mic cables are rolled up and put away, the pressure is now 100% on the engineer to take all of the tracks (some songs might be 40, others might be 120) and combine all of these sounds, add reverb, shape each instrument with EQ, compression or various effects - or leave them clean and pure. It's the time for the engineer to no longer capture the sound going into the microphone, but now create a sonic painting for the listener. I love mixing.

Bruce Swedien is a master mixer. We usually turned the lights to maybe 50% in the control room. There was fresh coffee, and maybe a couple Butterfingers or some popcorn. Usually it was just the two of us in the room for hours on end. It was not a collaboration - I was there to assist, not make a bunch of suggestions.

Back in the 80's and 90's we recorded and mixed on tape. The nice thing with tape is you get to the end of a song and it takes maybe 35-seconds to fully rewind to the top of the song. During that time an engineer has a few moments of silence to think about the mix, take a sip of coffee, stand up for a stretch, or chat with the assistant, or whoever else might be in the room. Most engineers now use Pro Tools or some form of hard disc recording, and everything is instant, losing those few seconds when everything just seems to take a breath before the next pass.

When Bruce would mix most of the time he was listening on his trusty old JBL 4310 speakers, which later were traded in for Westlake BBSM-8s, and later still for Westlake LC-3W12's. These are sometimes called "nearfield monitors", which are designed to deliver the music as accurately as possible, at comfortable, medium/loud volumes. The theory is they replicate a nice home or car audio system. Bruce was very scientific about the volume he listened on those mid-sized speakers, so his mix adjustments were actually changing the sound of the mix, not the volume heard in the room.

Here are two things that might be tricky to understand. First, Bruce starts mixing a song from day one of tracking (appetizer). He is already hearing an early version of the mix in his head, and making adjustments during recording that will make the song sound as good as possible when it comes time to mix. During the overdubs (entree) this continues, as he "mixes" the song after any and every new part is added. This way, everyone can hear where the song is going sonically. Second, when Bruce (or most engineers) mixes a song, he will mix it for hours and hours, sometimes 1-2 days. This is incredibly fatiguing, and the amount of focus it takes is impossible to describe. To keep listening deep into a song over and over and over again is more difficult than you might imagine, as the engineer must not let the sounds all jumble together in his or her brain.

That said, Bruce was very fast as his tracks were so prepped for the mix that there was no need to cleaning up mistakes and messes - that had all been done earlier during overdubs. So now he could focus on levels, careful placement of the high-hat just off center, very specific EQ'ing of each instrument and vocal. He would use very little compression, preferring instead to let the dynamics of the song explode out of the speakers. Let the song build from a whisper to a scream, take the listener on a ride.

Mixing, to the non-engineer, is very boring. There are no drummers telling jokes, or bass players telling about a disastrous date they were on the night before - it's just the engineer and his imagination. There were times when Bruce might mix for an hour and neither of us would say a word. Occasionally I might chime in with a comment about the reverb on the horns, or we might chat about his Swedish boat mechanic, or start discussing dinner options, but it wasn't a chat-fest. This was all about mixing.

No two days, songs or projects were exactly alike, but if Michael was there Bruce would get the mix where he wanted it, then he would have me bring Michael in. Michael would sit in Bruce's chair, I would have a notepad and pencil ready for him, and Bruce would leave. Seriously. Bruce would go to the kitchen and find a snack and leave me to face the upcoming hurricane.

Michael might make a silly comment with my nick-name ("Play the song Really Really Brad...") or he would just make a face and I would hit PLAY on the machine. He knew the button on the console to switch to the big speakers, and he knew how to crank the volume to 100%. By now I would have already had a pair of headphones on my head, and a look of mild fear on my face. It was going to be loud. Really, really, really loud.

The song would hit hard, and he would bounce in his chair and laugh and dance and take notes and bounce some more, like it was ride at a carnival! You couldn't help but enjoy the show. The song would end, and Bruce would come in and they would chat. "It needs more guitar, and more keyboards, and the snare needs to hit hard! Really hard!!" His smile and laughter showed that he loved where the song was going, he just wanted more... of everything. Bruce would take these notes and follow them within reason, as his job was still to deliver a great mix while giving Michael the sounds he wanted. Bruce was a master at finding that balance, and Michael was very persistent at wanting the song to match what he was hearing in his head.

We might stop for dinner, run the mix a few more times, then finally "print it" (record it to two track), then I would make cassettes for Bruce and Michael, and begin the long task of documenting every knob, reverb and setting into notes and Polaroid photos. They would leave and listen to it on the drive home and again on the drive in the next day. Sometimes it was perfect, sometimes hearing it in the car after a good night of sleep revealed something that could be better, and Bruce would make the adjustment. And I would document everything again. Then there's the choice of recording the mix to analog or digital, but I'll save that for another time. Go enjoy a couple helpings of dessert created by Bruce Swedien. I would personally recommend the impeccable mix of "Lady In My Life" followed by a heaping scoop of "Will You Be There", but the menu has a lot of choices. Enjoy your dessert !

[tornadotori123]

Mindless

Inktober : Prompt 2 is MINDLESS ~ I can't draw but am using Inktober prompts!

Rain tapped on the wooden roof above Sakura’s head, making her feel sleepy. She had been up all night working on a new song. Putting her forehead in her hand she sighed loudly.

“Shouldn’t you be working on homework?” A voice inquired from the other side of the room. Sakura turned and looked at her best friend.

“Sasuke, I think its nap time.” Sakura smiled at him. He shook his head and continued plucking on his acoustic guitar. Sakura rolled her eyes, tapping on her music notebook.

“How can I work on homework? This chorus is driving me crazy. I can’t seem to make it work.” She huffed and shut the scraggily notebook, pushing it away all in one motion.  

Sasuke put his guitar in its stand and walked over to her. He tapped her on the head.

“You think too much into it. You write the best when your mind is somewhere else,” he reached for her notebook and she grasped out to get it back.

“You aren’t allowed to look.” Sakura stuttered out, grabbing it back from him. She saw Sasuke raise a brow. A perfect brow on a perfect smooth face. Sakura looked up at him, blushing. Her face was hot, and she could feel her neck start to sweat. Damn, she thought. Huffing again, she slid the notebook back to him.

“No laughing.” Sakura told him, glaring at him sideways. She stood up and went to dig around in their mini fridge.

“I never laugh at you.” Sasuke cracked a smile at her. Sakura held a bottle of water to her neck and bit her lip.

“You are big fat liar Sasuke.”

Sakura watched as he opened her notebook and saw his eyes scanning the words, the notes, and the little citations she made in the margins. He stood up abruptly and Sakura’s back hit the counter. She hissed in pain, rubbing the spot.

“You sure are jumpy.” Sasuke noted and swiftly grabbed his guitar. “Just getting this. Maybe you can sing it when I play it for you.”

Sakura fiddled with the hem of her skirt. Embarrassment was one emotion she didn’t experience often, but here she stood, anxiously waiting for Sasuke to start playing. They had been in a band together since high school but started taking it seriously their first year of college. They were in the beginning of their sophomore year and time to practice was becoming rare to come by. Both Sasuke and herself were studying in the medical field, making band practice a much-needed sacred ritual. It wasn’t performing in front of him that made her nervous, one and one practices were commonplace. The words in her notebook stared back at her. She wasn’t too sure of the meaning of the song herself, but it had been keeping her up the past few days.

Sakura homed in on Sasuke’s slender fingers, plucking at the strings. She had always loved his hands. They were big but gentle. Always soothing her after a bad break-up or more recently holding her back when she drank too much. On nights like those Sasuke fell asleep with her head in his lap on her uncomfortable couch and Sakura would wake up to him snoring softly. They were always there for each other.

Sakura’s phone buzzed and she glimpsed at it.

“Gaara’s calling, give me on second.” Hurriedly, she answered her phone and immediately rolled her eyes. Sasuke gave a crooked smirk and shook his head.

“Well right now I’m practicing. I mean…sure we can go to dinner.” She smiled at Gaara’s remark about wearing something sexy, but then she also noticed Sasuke’s eyes on her.

“Uh huh, see you in a bit.” Sakura concluded, as she was pressing the hang up button, she hit the speaker instead.

“I love you Sakura. Can’t wait to see you.” Gaara’s soft voice echoed through the apartment. Panic ensued. Without thinking she hung up the phone and stared wide-eyed at Sasuke. He looked back at her questioningly.  

“On that level already huh?” He asked. Sakura doubted he meant to sound so…hurt? She couldn’t be sure.

“T-that was the first time I’ve heard him say that. I hung up. Sasuke, what do I do? I feel bad but…”

“You don’t love him?” Sasuke finished her thought but in a curious manner. Sakura bit her lip again and sank down into her bean bag chair. She didn’t even know what love really was. “You know it’s okay not to be sure dork.” Sasuke stated and smacked Sakura on the leg.

“Let’s practice your song and then go get ready. He said wear something sexy? Do you even own something like that?” Sasuke smirked at her and her face began to heat up again.

“Fuck you Uchiha! I own a very nice dress thanks.”

“Hm you said nice not sexy.” Sasuke pointed a finger gun at her and she pouted.

“So rude. Let’s get this over with so I can pretend I know what sexy even is.” Sakura puffed out.

Sasuke started strumming his guitar again and Sakura counted, “One, two, three…”

You touch me and it’s almost like we knew That there will be history between us two We knew someday that we would have regrets But we just ignored them the night we met We just dance backwards into each other Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered You touch me and it’s almost like we knew That there will be history

Sakura looked at Sasuke, who was concentrating on learning the melody and chords. His nose always scrunched up in a certain way when he focused on something. Those black eyes hard and intense. She had started realizing all the little things about him. Of course, she knew his mannerisms and his ticks but recently she found herself swimming in them. Sakura wanted to see all of him all the time.

After spending some minutes revising Sakura and Sasuke felt pretty good about what they had accomplished.

“Alright, Karin is blowing my phone up. I guess I’m going to head out.” Sasuke sighed. Sakura looked at him and smiled softly.

“You handle her crazy so well.”

“Hn. Not as good as yours.” Sasuke shot back at her. Sakura’s fingertips tingled. She wanted to touch him. Playfully and cautiously she reached out and patted his cheek.

“You only think you can handle me Sasuke Uchiha.” As she retracted her hand, Sasuke abruptly grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.

“Is that a challenge Haruno?” He hoarsely asked in her ear. Sakura wasn’t sure where this was coming from but her whole body throbbed in anticipation.

“Maybe it is.” She pulled back and gave a lopsided smirk. Sasuke was so close so could feel his breath tickling her nose. Without much thought she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him hard. His arms went around her waist and he leaned into her kiss. She knew they had to stop but couldn’t force herself to take a step back.

Sasuke’s cellphone started ringing. The Darth Vader ringtone meant Naruto was calling and that was unusual. Naruto was the type of person to just text.

Sakura found her break and backed away from Sasuke. She knew her face was as red as a tomato and her hands were clammy.

“It must be important.” Sakura stated shakily. Sasuke gave a curt nod and quickly answered the phone.

“Idiot.” Sasuke scoffed into the phone. Sakura gave him a small wave and walked down the hall to her room. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. Touching her lips, she groaned. How could she be so reckless, so mindless? Big trouble. She was in big trouble.

I wish I could make the time stop So we could forget everything and everyone I wish that the time would line up So we could just give in to what we want ‘Cause when I got somebody, you don’t And when you got somebody, I don’t I wish that the time would line up So we could just give in

—–FIVE YEARS LATER—-

Sasuke pulled his scarf closer to his face to avoid the cold December air that was whipping his cheeks harshly. His stomach was in knots and his hands were clammy and sweaty inside of his gloves. Naruto invited him and his older brother, Itachi, to a family and friends get together but also offered to let them stay the week. The holidays were fast approaching which meant it was Itachi’s busiest time and he had to decline the offer. Being a cop in a big city during the most celebrated time of the year made it nearly impossible to get away. So Sasuke had to make the drive back home by himself. He saw the silver lining in most things, so he was also glad he didn’t have to worry about his brother having delayed flights or losing luggage.

Sasuke had allowed himself to take two weeks off to visit Konoha. After he graduated college, he moved to a small town about three hours away and became a biology teacher at the local high school. He was also worked at the emergency room on the weekends. Busy was an understatement. Naruto calling him up demanding to come stay for a week for Christmas was the break Sasuke didn’t realize he needed. Of course, he had spent a few weekends at Naruto’s place, but it had been at least two years. The fool was married and had a baby to look after. Sasuke didn’t want to intrude. Honestly, he missed Konoha. Its busy streets and familiar sounds and sights. He had been homesick, but he didn’t know it was to this extent. His brain was doing flips. Sakura was going to be there.

The band didn’t make it through the last semester of senior year due to everyone drowning in senior projects. Sasuke and Karin had long been split up and she was dating a friend of Sasuke’s. Karin and Suigetsu argued more than any healthy couple should and Sasuke praised the heavens she had moved on from him or he would be in jail for murder. But since the band broke up, Sakura was deep into her nursing studies and Sasuke and Naruto got put on the back burner. They were still on the stove, but they knew she was frazzled and desperately needed sleep whenever she could get it. They hung out once a week in her apartment and worked on songs, played video games and slept over. To Sasuke it wasn’t enough time to be near her. Sakura never mentioned the kiss again and continued like it didn’t happen. Sasuke, however, couldn’t seem to let it go. So much so he broke it off with Karin that same night. Sakura and Gaara however were still together when everyone walked across the stage at graduation. He squeezed his fists together. Sasuke wasn’t sure how he was going to handle seeing Sakura with Gaara at this party. As far as he knew, they were happy and still together.

“Why wouldn’t they be?” He asked himself foolishly.

Naruto’s house came into view and he steadied himself. You’re a grown ass man, get a hold of yourself. However, he couldn’t bring himself to knock on the bright red in front of him.

“Well are you going to knock dork?” A soft voice asked from behind him. Sasuke turned around and felt the air in his body leave.

“S-Sakura.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost Sasuke.” Sakura smiled at him. Her pink bangs were curled around her face most of it was pulled into a bun on her head. It had grown out quite a bit in the last year, she used to keep it short. A small green shimmering nose ring caught the light of the door lamp and some freckles danced on her cheeks. Then he saw her eyes. Those emerald orbs were shining with happiness, her eyelashes coated in black mascara and fluttered in the cold breeze. He felt like he was in a twisted role of fate. Sakura reached out and rapped her knuckle on the door.

“It’s freezing out here. You are going to catch a cold.” Sakura scolded him. He was only half listening to what she said. There was a silver and emerald ring on her slim finger that caught his attention and he couldn’t rip his eyes from it.

Suddenly the door opened, and Naruto looked at the two on the porch in surprise.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!” He shouted as he engulfed Sasuke and Sakura into a wide hug. Sasuke grunted and felt his hand brush against Sakura’s arm. Sakura squeaked. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Naruto squeezing the air out of her or if she felt the tingling sensation like he did.

Hinata, Naruto’s wife, came to the door and pulled Naruto back.

“I-it’s cold Naruto, let them in.” She commanded but softly. Sasuke smiled at her. The opposite of his idiot friend and he loved her for it. Sakura hooked an arm around Hinata’s waist and pulled her into a hug.

“I need to see the baby! I have been dying to meet him.”

Sasuke watched as Hinata and Sakura rounded the corner to a relatively noisy dining room. He could feel Naruto staring at him.

“What idiot?” Sasuke snapped. Naruto shrugged and smiled at his friend. Sasuke did not like the way Naruto was patting him on the back.

“Still got it just as bad, don’t you?” Naruto asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Sasuke scoffed and took off his coat.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Yes, you do. Did you see the ring on her finger? I don’t remember Hinata saying Sakura was engaged. Did you know?” Naruto asked as he hung up Sasuke’s scarf and jacket on the coat rack.

“No. We haven’t really spoken. She’s been busy. Being a doctor and all, Naruto.” Sasuke rolled his eyes at his best friend who looked at him with pitiful eyes. “Stop looking at me like that. She deserves to be happy.”

“Who does?”

Sasuke peeked into the doorway of the dining area and Sakura was standing there with baby Boruto in her hands. The lights from the Christmas tree in the corner of the room bounced off her porcelain skin that her sweater dress didn’t cover. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice the red lipstick earlier but when he saw it, he couldn’t look away.

Naruto nudged his friend in the side.

“Oh, sorry. No one in particular.” Sasuke mumbled feeling sheepish. Sakura eyed him and Naruto suspiciously.

“Naruto take the baby. Come talk to some of you other guests please. You have all the time in the world to catch up with these two.” Hinata softly said, placing her hand in the small of Naruto’s back.

“Are you staying a week as well Sasuke?” Sakura asked, her eyes lighting up again like he had seen on the porch. He nodded at her and felt his face warm under her mystical stare. Eventually he looked down at his feet. Naruto and Hinata left the common area and swiftly made their way to the kitchen.

The night carried on. Sakura was chatting with Ino, a glass of wine in her hand. Sasuke greeted his childhood friends and gave swift hugs. Everyone enjoyed a dinner Hinata prepared for them in earnest. Eventually the hands on the clock hit 11:30. Boruto was starting to get fussy and that meant everyone had to leave. Friends and family filed out with kisses and hugs ad wishes for a happy holiday. Sasuke had never been so glad when Naruto shut the door, and all was quiet. Sakura immediately throw her heels to the front door and groaned loudly.

“I hate heels.”

Same old Sakura, Sasuke smiled to himself. Boruto was whining in his basinet while Naruto and Hinata were in the kitchen putting food away. Sasuke watched Sakura stand up and coo at the baby. Once again, the ring on her finger stood out against the white basinet and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“When did it happen?” He asked suddenly but quietly. Sakura cocked her head in confusion. She looked down at Boruto and looked back at Sasuke.

“I would say about ten months ago.”

Sasuke stared at Sakura. She had been engaged ten months and no one knew?

“That’s quite a while.” He stated dryly. The temper he forgot he had was flaring slightly. Sakura looked at him like he had lost his mind.

“I mean, you can ask Hinata and Naruto. That’s not that long. It goes by quickly.” Sakura smiled sweetly at him and he wanted to throw a couch. She bounced Boruto until he started snoring.

“I remember when I used to fall asleep on you.” Sakura smiled at Boruto, but she was talking to Sasuke. He took her in. Immaculate wasn’t even close to describing how she looked with a swaddled baby in her arms. She looked so natural standing there, with a ring on her finger and a sleeping baby.

“You mean passed out.” Sasuke corrected. Instead of sitting in the chair next to her, Sakura crossed the room and sat down next to Sasuke. Rapid heart beats started to flood his ears.

“I never really thanked you for always being there Sasuke.” Sakura whispered. She turned to look at him. He felt like he was dying inside.

“You don’t have to thank me dork.” Touching her forehead with his pointer and index finger, he pushed slightly. She was smiling for him. At him. “When is the date?” He didn’t want to ask, but he knew one way or another he was going to be there for her.

“Date for what?” Sakura asked raising an eyebrow. Sasuke also raised an eyebrow.

“Your wedding?” Sasuke asked carefully. The word making him feel nauseous.

Sakura opened her mouth to say something but instead started laughing. Boruto wiggled in her arms and she had to force herself to be quiet. Sasuke was beyond confused and pissed off. Why was she laughing?

“I’m not getting married Sasuke. I’m not even engaged.” Sakura confirmed and giggled again.

“B-but you’re wearing a ring.” Sasuke felt like his world was shifted off his axis. She wasn’t engaged.

“It’s my mothers Sasuke. You know she has been sick. She gave it to me since I’m not at home.” Sakura took her hand and gripped his arm. Sasuke observed her hand, getting a good look at the ring. Upon seeing it, familiarity set in.

“Oh, my fucking god.” Exasperated he put his head in his hands. Sakura choked back another laugh but Sasuke still heard it.

“You were not freaking out about me having a ring on my finger Sasuke Uchiha.” Sakura scoffed at him.

“I was Haruno.” Sasuke sputtered out. His head hurt from the wine, the feeling that he lost her forever, and now realizing he was a complete idiot.

“Oh Sasuke. I haven’t dated anyone in about a year. Gaara and I started to drift right before graduation. I didn’t have the heart to do break it off right before such a big deal. I was too pre-occupied and busy with my studies. He did ask me you know.” Sakura sadly explained. Sasuke stared at her. Those green eyes drawing him further.

“I turned him down, and right after graduation I ended it.” Sakura finished, rocking the waking Boruto back to sleep. She looked away from him and it drove him crazy. He brought his hand up to her chin and turned her face back.

“Why?” Sasuke had to know. Did she feel the flames he was feeling by just sitting next to her?

“Because I love you, stupid Uchiha.” Tears welled up in Sakura’s eyes as she stared at Sasuke. “I’ve loved you for who knows how long. But I was sure you didn’t love me—”

Sasuke put his lips over her trembling ones and kissed her hard. He poured at least the last five years of emotion into that kiss. His hands gripping her shoulders trying to get her closer.

“Hey, don’t suffocate my kid.” Naruto interrupted. Sasuke and Sakura pulled away from each other quickly, blushing.

“Its nothing new. I’ve been around you guys for too long not to know you had something. It just took you both forever to deal with it,” he picked up Boruto carefully, “you guys have to share a room. But I doubt you’ll have an issue with that.” He remarked snidely. Naruto joined Hinata at the foot of the stairs after flipping off most of the downstairs lights.

“The mistletoe was well placed my dear.” Naruto kissed Hinata on the cheek as they walked up the stairs.

Sasuke and Sakura sat on the couch, spilling their feelings and sharing long needed kisses. Sakura looked up and smiled.

“Mistletoe. How fitting.” Sasuke shook his head, smiling. Sakura leaned in again and Sasuke pressed his lips against hers. Accompanying each other to the room they were sharing, they didn’t care where they were in that moment. The fire spread through their mindless kisses and eventually it felt like the whole room was ablaze, and they loved it.

[jefferyryanlong]

Fresh Listen - The Squids, The Squids (Bankshots Music, Inc. and Oto-Songs, Inc., 1981) and Duganopacalypse Now (A Fan Compilation, circa 1981)

(Some pieces of recorded music operate more like organisms than records. They live, they breathe, they reproduce. Fresh Listen is a periodic review of recently and not-so-recently released albums that crawl among us like radioactive spiders, gifting us with superpowers from their stingers.)

The first band I ever loved was the Beatles, and John Lennon was dead years before I had any idea of who they were. It wasn’t until Kurt Cobain died that I had any interest in Nirvana--I recall an eighth grade classmate looking at mw with contempt after I told them I was unfamiliar with their music, when “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was already an MTV hit. The chemical composition of my brain was dissolved and reconstituted over the course of two weeks when, at twelve years old, I watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Cool Hand Luke on late-night television, but both films were about twenty years old by then. I just heard of Herbie Hancock’s V.S.O.P. album, featuring Freddie Hubbard, Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter, and Tony Williams, about two weeks ago. I’m 42 years old now and I’ve only just come to realize how cutting and prescient Claude McKay’s novel Banjo is. 

All this to say that I wish I’d been around when Honolulu’s The Squids were playing around town. (Much thanks to Roger and Leimomi from Aloha Got Soul for pointing me in the right direction.) The Squids were so odd and varied, a New Wave outfit with the muscularity and venom of the truest punk rock, able to invoke the B-52′s in the same gig as Talking Heads or the Ventures or the Specials, all with the same veracity, but much weirder and crueler. They married a sunny, breezy synth sound with an aesthetic that I can only describe as joyously psychopathic, spraying smart-ass malice on the unfortunate subjects of their songs.

Though the band only officially released a 7-inch EP in 1981 (currently unavailable on Amazon) Comrade Motopu, the mysterious archivist who, through digitized vinyl and cassette tapes, as well as donated photos, scanned liner notes, flyers and news releases, has painstakingly agglomerated Hawai‘i rock music and associated miscellany on a magnificent pre-Y2K looking website, has not only shared the Squids’ EP (featuring “Tourist Riot,” “‘Love Theme’ From Surfer Boy,” “In,” and “Rio”), but what is also listed as Duganopacalypse,  a fan compilation with even more twisted tunes: “Medicine,” “Sexy,” “Head in the Sand,” the ska-soaked “New Girl in Town,” their partially awful, mostly spectacular “Cool Clear Water,” and “Pretty Vacant (with Dugan),” the Never Mind the Bullocks classic with a seemingly hated fan on the inarticulate vocals. I only pray that Comrade Motopu continues documenting this underhand era of Pacific rock music of the late Seventies to early Nineties--the site is a treasure, and more words about the bands highlighted on comrademotopu.com (the Vacuum and Yahweh’s Mistake, for instance) will be coming soon.

The Squids began as a concept by guitarist Beano Shots in 1979, later to take shape as a full-fledged human/cephalopod music group with members Kit and Gerry Ebersbach, Dave Trubitt, and Frank Orall. Those of us who sweatily flailed our way through a booze-and-drug bender on the strobe-lit (at least, as it appeared then) dance floor of the Wave Waikiki between the hours of 2 AM and 4 AM when all the other bars closed down would be surprised to learn that the now-demolished former nightclub, a hub for the scraped-out, after-hours husks operated by the residual combustion of chemicals in their blacked-out reptilian brains, once hosted the edgy Squids as the house band, presumably when the going-out crowd still had an affinity for fun, strong music, and did not simply seek to propel themselves upon the the mechanized beats and soulless zombie tracks initiated by a faceless button masher, in hopes that they would be manipulated, by the end of the night, into some loveless fuck with a nobody. 

Of the Squids’ stage show, we have but one recorded example of the band live in concert: a faithful interpretation of the Sex Pistols’ “Pretty Vacant,” in which the players serve as back-up band for a loyal heckler known only as “Dugan.” Having taken (jokingly) enough shit from Dugan, the band harasses him into sing-shouting the song. The performance captures the “fuck you” sentiment of “Pretty Vacant” with a primitive abandon that almost makes the original seem like a Monkees’ tune. It also portrays a punk rock scene less enlightened to the diverse lifestyles it later engendered, when “dick sucking” was applied exclusively as a pejorative.

The same pissed-off adrenalin leads off the the 1981 EP in “Tourist Riot,” an apocalyptic narrative of that species of traveler compelled to hammer a new experience into a predetermined mold that will establish an appropriate backdrop to their social media posts. The tourists here burn hotels and smash out windows when their expectations aren’t suitably met--a bad vacation in which they are pushed around and mistreated leads the tourists to murder and mayhem.

“Tourist Riot” lays out the Squids’ music aspirations right away, especially in the interplay between Beano Shots’s electric guitar and Kit Ebersbach’s keyboards, which morph from forbidding electronic warning tones to psychedelic ghost notes to the replicated sirens of a city on fire, collateral damage in a war between locals and tourists. Following a surprisingly effective bridge that concludes with a shouted “Fuck it, I’m going to New York City!” is an atonal guitar solo reminiscent of Nels Cline asleep at the wheel, redeemed by a more fluid keyboard exploration.

When Jimi Hendrix claimed that “you’ll never hear surf music again” in 1967, he was, through the example of his own transcendent playing on “Third Stone from the Sun,” burying the corpse of that elementary, improvisationally unimaginative rock instrumental with the axe with which he had slew it. To that end, after hearing Jimi Hendrix and all the musical manifestations that took shape from his cosmic residue, it is sometimes hard to take surf music seriously. “‘ Love Theme’ from Surf Boy” comes across as the Squids’ winking parody of the genre, with its reverb, its whammy, its overall melancholy, and its simplicity. That said, there is some sophistication in the song’s structure, as if the wordless tune was more an exercise in technique, an attempt to take stock creatively before reaching out to a farther and stranger place.

On “In,” the guitars and keyboards snarl rabidly toward the same explosive destination, barely kept in check by the talents of the players. Lyrically minimalist, the song’s non-sequiturs slice through the instruments like assembled cut-up style by William S. Burroughs. “Are you losing sense of humor, could be Jesus was only kidding” followed by “are you losing sense of humor, could be Jesus was just a salesman.” These pieces of thoughts unfinished resonate in my head like something close to catchy--to what end, I don’t know. Where the keyboards overmatched the guitars on “Tourist Riot,” on “In” the guitar is locked in and dirty, climaxing in repetitive harmony between the instruments to close out the song.

When I first read the track listing to the 1981 EP, I thought the final song “Rio” would be a rough rendering of the hit video single by near-contemporaries Duran Duran (whose synth-guitar arrangements, though undoubtedly smoother, find relation in the Squids’ overall aesthetic). Instead, “Rio” is an acid commentary on the American Capitalist, represented as a white suit soaked in sweat, and his compulsion to foster vice and iniquity to exotic locales.

I’m not sure whether the fan compilation Duganopacalypse, also available for listening through the Comrade Motopu website, was recorded before, after, or  during the sessions of the 1981 EP. A few tracks lead me to believe that the songwriting and arrangements are from a wiser, more sophisticated band, while other songs seem so apelike in their imitations as to come through as pointless satires, or maybe the explorations of a band trying to find its identity.

In “Medicine,” for instance, the Squids operate under an overpowering B-52′s filter that washes out their uniqueness. Whereas on previous tracks this influence existed only at the fringes of their sound, the singer on “Medicine” channels Fred Schneider on the verse and switches to David Bowie during the bridge. The role-play, though, doesn’t kill the the more interesting aspects of “Medicine”--its guitar lick is inventive and so wormy as to be slightly irritating, and the song’s themes, that one must willingly imbibe “the medicine” to accept the hypocrisies of this “downer world,” resound strongly to anyone who casts their eyes around a crowded room.  

Where the B-52′s references go deep in “Medicine,” Talking Heads emerge in “Sexy,” from David Byrne’s vocal tics to the subtle and swampy “Take Me to the River” vibe. It goes beyond straight homage to cover band territory, but it does emphasize the band’s technical ability to lock into a groove. “New Girl in Town” is a heaping serving of not-completely-warmed-up ska leftovers, a bit misogynist (of its time, but still). “Head in the Sand,” regrettably, could have been the Squids’ crossover pop hit. I say “regrettably” because, even though the song has a point--that the ability of humans to maintain a semblance of happiness is to carefully cultivate the warm fuzz of obliviousness, sacrificing will to fate in the belief that nothing we could do to change anything would matter anyway--the effort seems more calculated than organic, a plastic approximation of the closest this band, given their specific set of skills, could get to a pop crossover hit. The work put into it seems to drain away at some of the dirty magic. It‘s self-conscious in a way that the other songs aren’t.

Finally we have “Cool Clear Water,” what would have been the band’s masterpiece if they’d spent a little more time recording a decent take (the version on the Duganopacalypse almost sounds live, though it could have been laid down in a rehearsal space). This is not the country classic performed by Marty Robbins and Johnny Cash. The Squids’ “Cool Clear Water” is the frightening confession of a soldier recently returned from the war in Vietnam, directed by an angel spirit to mass murder with a shotgun from a tower in town. When the killer is set to be executed, the angel spirit comforts him, tells him his spirit will be redeemed in heaven for “setting the people free.” The unnerving subject matter of “Cool Clear Water” is given sinister shape by the relentless horror-notes of Kit Ebersbach’s organ, the guitar holding down the song’s march toward inevitable nothingness because the bass (normally played with elan by Gerry Ebersbach) is a complete mess (I’m not sure if she hadn't learned the song or if she just showed up at the gig drunk).

As Marc Maron frequently says on his podcast, “there’s no late to the party” anymore, given the the amount of content available to all of us via the digital consciousness that we are now more plugged into than not. But I’ve waited all my life to lose myself in something vital, of the moment, with my eyes and ears and heart present while the thing is taking shape, at its most temporal. I feel that way listening to the Squids. I wish I could have seen them at one of their Wave gigs. I wish I could have had a beer with them afterward, and gushed in the embarrassing way I do about things I love.

[aliciameade]

“Worth It”

Because why not see what happens the morning after "Earned It"?

Rated M

When Beca’s alarm goes off, it’s so loud she falls out of bed from the shock of it.

She manages to smack her elbow on the nightstand in the process and hisses as her arm goes numb. “Shit,” she whispers to herself as she sits up to feel for her phone above her head to silence the chorus of Rita Ora’s “Poison” blasting in her hotel room.

She’s disoriented with the sudden rude awakening and she can’t find her phone to silence the ear-splittingly loud music. So she hauls herself up and spots it sitting on the dresser next to the TV. She rushes over and stops it with a sigh of relief as she leans back against the dresser and closes her eyes.

“Good morning.”

She jumps hard enough to smack her other elbow against the dresser and instinctively slaps her hands and arms over her naked body to hide from the intruder and crouches, not knowing how else to hide in her panic.

There’s a giggle and she hears, “Hey, it’s me.”

Her pounding heart stops for a second, then takes off again as she tracks the source of the voice to her bed.

A sleepy Chloe is sitting up in it, hair a total mess and, with the bedding bunched at her waist, naked.

She blinks, still crouching at the foot of the bed peering over it at her friend and roommate who...yeah, she definitely had sex with last night.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Chloe says with a smile, one that has her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Come back to bed.” She retrieves the covers from where Beca had taken them with her when she fell out in utter fear and pats the sheet as she lays back down.

It takes her a few seconds to process what’s happening (happened) but she eventually gets moving. She crawls up onto the bed and tries not to be embarrassed about her state of undress because she knows that’s moot now, but she must fail at masking it in her rush to get under the covers and hover at the edge of the bed, unsure what to do.

There’s a teasing hum in her ear and she’s jumping again, ready to flee on impulse when an arm wraps around her waist to pull her backward.

Much of her brain is still asleep, and the part that is awake is still coming down from hyperdrive panic mode as it stutters to fuller conscious and she feels it spinning, replaying the more specific details as to why her phone was across the room, why it was still connected to the Bluetooth speakers, why she woke up naked…

...why Chloe has her naked body held against her own naked body.

And then her brain wakes up al the way, lucid and clear, and the night rushes back to her.

Amy’s cocktails and Legacy being goaded into daring her to give Chloe a fucking lap dance.

Standing at Cynthia-Rose’s computer trying to decide if she should be dumb and pick “Who Let the Dogs Out?” or indulge her fantasy a little and pull up a sexy song and see how Chloe reacts to Beca getting a little sexy with her.

She’d definitely been curious about it, about the possibilities, for a while. A long while. A several years kind of while.

The cocktails helped grease the wheel of decision, but tapping that play button on penultimate lady jam crooner The Weeknd it wasn’t as difficult as she thought it should be.

Just like it wasn’t as difficult as she thought it might be giving Chloe a lap dance and tuning out everyone else in the room. Just like it felt pretty natural to tease Chloe with her body and watch her react with a type of hunger Beca had never seen from her before but had definitely fantasized about.

She forgot they weren’t alone and in her haze of self-inflicted arousal almost ending up in her lap kissing her. The moment was interrupted and she rushed off, ashamed of her actions and loss of control once reality snapped back into focus.

The reality was that she’d given one of her best friends a lap dance with every intention of fully seducing her. She got so turned on doing it that she escaped to the bathroom to lock herself in it while the girls hooted and hollered over Legacy making out with the room service waiter while Beca shoved her hand down the front of her pants and touched herself until she was clutching the counter, trying not to collapse or make a sound as she made herself come in Chloe’s bathroom, staring at a tube of her lipstick left by the sink and thinking about how that color would look smeared on her own neck.

She bails on the party after that. It was enough of a battle to say goodnight to the girls, all of them demanding a hug goodnight like they were little kids, after letting them watch her behavior toward Chloe.

Chloe is the only one who doesn’t demand a hug goodnight; instead, she stares at her from the couch and doesn’t bother to say goodnight.

And Chloe never failed to say goodnight to her.

In her own hotel room and alone, she falls face-first onto her bed with a groan. Instinctively, her hips roll into it, the relief in the bathroom doing little to ease the arousal pounding through her system.

She has to distract herself, or at least make an attempt, so she hooks up her phone to the room’s Bluetooth surround sound system (which is awesome to have in a hotel room), pulls up one of her “Chill Vibes” playlists full of instrumental-only tracks, and forces herself into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She strips out of her clothes, kills the lights, and cuddles up with herself in bed.

She stares at the ceiling for a solid 45 minutes thinking about the way Chloe looked at her before grabbing her phone to pop open her texts.

“You’re probably busy w/ Bella, but if you happen to be free, hit me back.”

She taps her fingernails on the hard plastic of her iPhone’s case and is relieved when the three little dots show up to indicate Stacie is replying.

“Hey, B. Isn’t it the middle of the night there? You’re in France, right?”

“Like…2:30 am. Hotel party. You know how it is. And yes.”

“Ooh, I miss a good Bellas party. Never know what’s gonna happen!”

“You can say that again. :\”

“That feels like a loaded response. DID something happen? Is that why you’re texting me at 2:30 am?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“No, we PLAYED truth or dare.”

“I know. ;) Well? What happened? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

She rubs a hand over her face and sighs.

“Legacy dared me to give a lap dance…”

“To Chloe.”

“To Chloe. Good guess.”

“Literally nothing could have been more predictable than that. You bust out the sexy moves? I bet you were all over that. Literally speaking. Not figuratively.”

“…I don’t really know what happened?

It’s like I blacked out or something? And the way she was looking at me…”

“Whoa, girl. Don’t get me revved up. I gotta give The Hunter a break for a few weeks.”

“Stacie!”

“What? It’s true. Keep going. What happened?”

“NOTHING happened. But I just…I seriously almost lost it. I just wanted…I wanted her SO fucking badly.”

Her entire body flushes with heat and embarrassment at the confession.

“Only took you seven years to admit to that soberly. Or you aren’t sober right now, are you? You’re not, because of the party.”

“Shut up. I’m not NOT sober. But I’m not that drunk.”

“Okay, so you gave her a sexy lap dance (what I wouldn’t give to see that btw – one of those bitches better have recorded it) and you wanted to jump her bones. And you know she wants to jump YOUR bones. Why aren’t you jumping each other’s bones right now?”

“She doesn’t want to jump my bones.”

“OMG, you are so dense. Chloe has wanted into your skinny jeans for as long as she’s known you. If you want her, go get her.”

“You’re nuts.”

“At least I’m not dumb like some of us.”

A knock at her door makes her look up sharply.

There’s literally no way...

She considers waiting it out, pretending to be asleep, but she looks at Stacie’s last couple messages again and it’s enough motivation to get her out of bed to pull her pants back on. She zips up her hoodie while she walks to the door and stretches up on her tiptoes to check the peephole, even though she knows who it is.

She sees a flash of red hair, as though she’s turned to leave so Beca’s quick to unchain her door and open it and she sees Chloe jump and turn back in surprise.

She doesn’t open the door all the way; something about that feels disarming for whatever this moment is going to be. She kind of hugs the door and tries to look like she’s been asleep. “Everything okay?”

The moments after that come back to her in a blur of stops and starts.

Chloe sitting on her bed.

Chloe telling her she was, “so, so sexy.”

Chloe telling her that she turned her on.

Chloe telling her she came to Beca because she’s turned on.

Chloe suggesting Beca could do something about it if she wanted to.

Her serious consideration of the matter while watching Chloe lean back on her bed with an anxious kind of confidence; she’d never seen Chloe that kind of anxious before.

Her decision to act on whatever was sparked back in Chloe’s room and pressing play on a sex playlist she’d made a year ago for no real reason other just to have one should the need for one arise.

Chloe staring at her from her bed in shorts and a very braless tank top asking to be satiated seemed like a pretty sound reason for it.

So she pressed play on a song about riding a woman all night that ironically declared that it “ain’t truth or dare” after the way the night had begun and watched the heat roll over Chloe’s face and right into her own body, Chloe giving her the tiniest nod telling her it was what she wanted.

That’s all it had taken. One nod and one really sexy song and Beca slid into Chloe’s lap to like she’d done it a dozen times with a level of confidence that came out of nowhere.

The memory makes her shiver and she feels the warmth of lips against her shoulder. Then higher, and higher still until they’re on her neck and she shivers again and they’re on her ear.

“I’m still thinking about it,” Chloe whispers before tugging on the edge of her ear with her teeth. “Are you?”

She can’t stop the whimper that escapes her lips at the pull and she feels Chloe’s arm tighten around her. The way Chloe made her feel last night keeps clawing its way to the surface and roars to life when Chloe’s hand wanders over her hip to her thigh to give it a tug.

A request for her to turn over.

To part her legs for her.

Her body moves willingly and she’s on her back with Chloe grinning down at her before she’s even thought to move.

“Let’s skip breakfast with the girls.” Chloe’s hand moves up to pet Beca’s bare stomach.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re about to make an inappropriate comment?” Beca’s surprised at how easy the words flow considering her overall mental state, but she’s starting to think she shouldn’t be surprised by her actions around Chloe anymore.

Chloe’s smile widens briefly then turns into a suggestive one. “What, you think I’m going to say something about how I have plenty to eat right here?”

The way Chloe says it makes Beca’s stomach hiccup. All of this is so, so new and as natural as it feels to flirt with Chloe, it certainly doesn’t feel normal. She shrugs in response because she’s feeling rather tongue-tied after thinking about the implications of Chloe’s teasing statement.

Her lack of verbal response seems to please Chloe, who cocks an eyebrow at her like she’s surprised Beca has nothing to say as she lets her slowly wandering hand move up Beca’s ribs until fingertips are tracing the soft curve of Beca’s left breast.

She can’t stop the shiver it pulls from her.

“Or did you think I was going to say you can have breakfast in bed?”

Beca’s jaw loosens at the statement because Chloe’s hit her with a one-two punch of mental images and she has to run her tongue across her lower lip before she gets caught drooling over the thought of it.

But Chloe notices, her eyes drawn to every move Beca’s mouth makes and as though making some kind of point - Beca’s not sure what point it could be, but it definitely seems like some kind of point is being made - Chloe starts to lean closer and all Beca can do is watch and wait to be kissed.

She’s ready for it and her eyes fall closed but it doesn’t come. She feels the warmth of Chloe’s proximity hovering above and her stomach clenches in anticipation because she knows Chloe has something up her nonexistent sleeve.

“You’d be right. I’ve been craving something since the party.”

Beca feels the air rush out of her lungs and barely has a chance to fill them again before Chloe’s lips are on hers.

She knows she groans or moans or makes some kind of sound because Chloe echoes it before she’s coaxing Beca’s mouth open to accommodate her tongue, which isn’t really a difficult task at all, especially when she feels Chloe ease herself down to fit into the space Beca allowed her to make between her legs. It’s another instant reminder that they’re both naked and Chloe rolls her hips against Beca.

She’s not sure at what point it happened, but she realizes her hands are above her head, pinned there gently by Chloe and she huffs at the feeling that rushes through her at the concept of Chloe being in control of her.

It’s only fair, she realizes as she lets her tongue twist with Chloe’s.

Beca had been the one soundly in control last night, from the lap dances to slipping her fingertips down the front of Chloe’s shorts in a move she didn’t even think about making - she just...did it. She’d let Chloe work her way into her own pants, because honestly, after half a second of trying to deny her, the feeling of Chloe’s fingers on her pretty much erased every hesitation about that.

But she’d remained in control, laying over Chloe as they touched one another and kissed and shared oxygen until they came together, and then again after she managed a wisecrack about thanking Emily for putting them on their path as she guided one of Chloe’s breasts to her lips and reached for her because she needed to make Chloe come again.

It had been transcendent watching it the first time, so much so she’d almost forgotten to pay attention to her own orgasm.

But it seems now, as Chloe’s hips work in slow circles to grind into Beca, she is going to get her own turn at getting to lay back and let herself be taken.

She sighs as Chloe’s lips travel from her mouth to her jaw to her neck where they suck gently, not hard enough to leave a mark, though. Just enough to feel good.

And it feels good.

She can’t stop the chill that runs up her spine and she hears Chloe hum in response and the hand that’s been holding her wrists releases her to drag down her forearm as Chloe shifts backward.

It makes Beca swallow hard and she chooses to keep her arms up because there’s something really fucking sexy about feeling like Chloe has her tied up while she kisses down her chest.

Her lips travel lower until they’re covering Beca’s right nipple and it makes her back arch for more. It’s a new sensation Chloe’s offering her; last night, Chloe’s breasts were the only ones graced by the presence of a mouth because Beca had been the one doling out the majority of the pleasure.

But not now.

She squirms beneath Chloe who’s moved far enough back that the short-lasting friction she’d been offering Beca is gone. She’s left with nothing but the warmth of Chloe’s mouth on her skin - which isn’t a complaint - and the fingernails that are scratching down her ribs to make her break out in goosebumps.

She doesn’t complain because she knows where Chloe’s going.

She’s going where neither ventured last night; last night had been about hesitant desire, the kind of sex that happens when you both want to be doing it, but it’s so new that neither of you wants to get too wild or go too far and risk crossing some invisible boundary.

Beca knows that boundary line is gone now, erased the moment Chloe pulled her onto her back so she could grind her hips between Beca’s legs while she teased Beca’s tongue with her own in the very quiet, very sober, very mentally clear morning hours.

Because Chloe was still thinking about the night before.

Because Chloe wanted to do it again.

She feels that tongue trace her navel and she sucks in her stomach from the tickle. She’s about to threaten violence if Chloe doesn’t stop because Beca does not do ticklish when, while looking Beca squarely in the eye, Chloe backs up the last few inches necessary and lets her tongue slide right from her navel down to her clit.

“Oh my…” she doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out, opting instead for a hiss because it’s easier.

A smile curves around the tongue Chloe’s rather brazenly using on display and then she’s lowering herself to lay down to get utilitarian about things, and Beca watches in near disbelief that Chloe’s really lifting her knees to rest them over her shoulders right now. But she is, and her tongue is tracing slow, gentle trails everywhere and Beca twitches when it rolls over her clit just right. It makes her drop her head back to the pillow and close her eyes, arms still above her head.

There’s a sound from Chloe that’s reminiscent of a scientist declaring, “Eureka!” and Beca’s still thinking about that when she realizes she maybe should prepare for the results of Chloe’s big discovery, but she’s not quick enough.

She’s not quick enough and she’s gasping to catch the breath that gets stolen when Chloe repeats the pattern that made her twitch, but she doesn’t just repeat it. She repeats it so quickly, over and over again, that Beca feels the earth fall out from beneath her.

“Fuck,” she says with a groan as her hands fly down to latch into tousled red hair to ground herself. “Oh my God.”

Chloe hums in response and the vibration makes Beca’s hips grind down into her, suddenly desperate for more, now, faster, harder.

Whatever it is Chloe’s doing, hitting the exact right spot over and over again, has her on the verge of tears because it’s so intense but she’s not staying on it long enough to get Beca there.

She’s just torturing her, making her cling to the edge waiting for that necessary shift to push her over it, and she doesn’t seem interested in doing that quickly.

“Chlo,” she tries whining, as undignified as it may be, but all she gets is a version of a chuckle in return and hands that snake between her own to slide up from her waist to her ribs to cover her breasts.

It makes her forget to breathe for a second and then she’s panting and really starting to not care that it’s possible that whoever is in the rooms next to hers - Amy? Jessica? - could overhear this.

Because fuck. She lifts her head again for a second and the view, the way Chloe’s hands are on her and how her eyes are closed to focus on what she’s doing with her tongue...it makes Beca press her heels into Chloe’s back and try to pull her closer.

“Just...fuck...to the left...right there, oh my God, shit, don’t stop.” It’s a rush of words that trail off into a string of moans because Chloe’s about to push her over the edge. Her fingers twist in messy red hair and she knows she’s pulling a little too hard because she hears Chloe gasp, but Chloe also doesn’t stop so it must not be too bad because fuck she started sucking and -

“Oh my Jesus,” Beca says with a groan when she can think again and her whole body jumps when Chloe, still firmly in her spot, rolls her tongue over her again in the way she figured out makes Beca jump. “Stop, stop,” she laughs and feels Chloe place a chaste (if that can be such a thing) kiss on her and then feels the bed and warmth shift as Chloe makes her way back up until she flops down next to Beca.

“I’ve wanted to know what you taste like for so long.” Chloe’s breathing hard and that combined with the statement makes Beca shiver.

“I, uh...hope I didn’t disappoint?” She frowns at the ceiling and keeps her eyes closed hoping that didn’t sound as terrible as she thinks it did.

She feels Chloe moving but doesn’t realize to where until lips are on hers, tongue slipping past them to slide over her own.

“You didn’t,” Chloe says with a final peck to her lips and then she’s getting cozy next to Beca.

“That’s...good,” Beca replies trying not to sound awkward but Chloe doesn’t seem to mind.

She drapes her arm over Beca’s waist and hugs herself close and Beca sighs. She’d never admit to anyone else that she really likes to snuggle up after sex, but Chloe could barely get through a day without hugging her, so she figured there was nothing to lose in being herself.

It’s not like she needs to hide anything from Chloe anymore.

“You going to let me return the favor?” she asks with a wiggle of her shoulder meant to disturb Chloe’s resting head.

“Tonight,” Chloe answers with a yawn. “I wanna go back to sleep. How long ‘til soundcheck?”

She laughs. “Like, seven hours? But we’re supposed to go sightseeing with the Army brats after the breakfast that we just skipped.”

Chloe squeezes her and then relaxes with a sigh and makes it clear she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. “We can visit France again. I just want to sleep here with you right now.”

Beca’s surprised by the sting in her eyes and the lump in her throat at the casual comment. She swallows and nods. “Okay. We can go back to sleep.”

They eventually make it out of bed after sleeping in to a sinfully late hour, have lunch in the hotel’s restaurant, and take a taxi to catch up with the rest of the girls at the Promenade des Anglais.

She’s feeling well-rested and punchy and she decides to make good on her comment to Chloe last night and finds Emily in the souvenir shop they’ve all stepped into.

“Hey, Legacy. You really did me a solid with that dare last night. Thanks.”

Emily looks at her in confusion, hands frozen in the air with the dolman tee she’d been looking at with I speak French [fries] printed across it. “I did? What?”

Beca just winks and tilts her head toward Chloe who’s an aisle over looking at shot glasses.

It takes her a second but then Emily gasps and drops the T-shirt. “Oh my stars! Did you and -”

“Shh!” She slaps her hand over Emily’s mouth and looks around. “Chill, dude. I don’t need everybody to hear.”

“We already did.”

It’s Amy’s voice from coming from behind her and she turns her head to find the blonde casually reading over a spinning tower of magnets. “You did not.” She thinks back to how she was aware of the fact that she wasn't doing a very good job at censoring herself that morning.

Amy just tilts her head and hums so Beca spins back to Emily. “Be quiet.”

Emily nods behind Beca’s hand still silencing her.

“You’re going to go tell everyone as soon as I leave, aren’t you.” She states it as a matter of fact.

Emily nods again.

And Beca sighs.

She’s about to complain when she realizes that Emily gave her a pretty awesome gift and she’ll be back in bed with Chloe tonight - and the girls can gossip and whisper and comment all they want.

Because tonight she’s finding out what Chloe tastes like - and that makes it all worth it.

[deuce-duce]

I will NOT!

January 27, 2021

You WON... go...!! Leave... Please... Leave... Your DUMB!! Stop!! DONT!!

One more time... I... WILL NOT...!! 

so when it comes to what keeps me going I couldn't really tell ya... but what i can do is explain to you the things I do on a daily basis or often that must be what keeps me grounded and my head in the game. As you know I'm going to make sure things are explained properly so this might take me a couple of days hopefully you don't mind.

It has been said that when one does the right things for the right reasons there is nothing that can stand in their way. So I’m sold on the other saying that, its the little things that keep me going for when we look back on our lives we realize that its the little things, that were actually the most important and meaningful to us. Im such a strong believer in this because no matter what I encounter I always go back to the little things that bring me joy not happiness for happiness is a state of being but joy permeates Happiness, feeding your mind body and soul. A Few Of My Favorite Things, Julie Andrews (Music Notes). Above all else its the little things no one can take from you/I and are the fundamental components that make us who we are. these things are usually out of our control they don't cause anyone any harm and in all reality is just a sense of appreciation for what's already there. This also translates into hobbies or anything you do that doesn't cause yourself or anyone else any discontent but instead continuously provides encouragement, love, purpose and guidance. ALL of these are fundamental components in Maslow’s Hierarchy.

Over the last couple of months I've really searched within myself determining what it is that has helped me dance when I wanted to cry or rise when i wanted to die and TBH I cry when I dance and die so I can rise all while keeping that what makes me whole LOVE. Not only for myself but for my fellow human even the humans who make it difficult to love. The reason I have been so curious and delved deep within myself is so that I could share it with you. Unfortunately the only constant in common day life is hard times strife and adversity. which is something that I  have never been able to understand. My theory is that societal diplomats/cabal designed it that way for a couple of reason... 1 is so that people have an excuse to do the effed up POOP that they do... the other reason is so that we just write it off of our conscious, Whelp...! that's life... NO ITS NOT!! This mentality in turn breeds the attitude of cant beat em join em even when we don't want to... or know that what we were/are doing, doesn't bring us any joy at all. But everybody's doing it and all or any of us want is to belong and be accepted, Even ME. living this way though just make us succumb more and more to things we wouldn’t normally agree with digging the hole deeper and deeper to a point where no one even feels comfortable standing up for what's right or what they believe in period. This allows those who heap coals on your home to increase in size and rise to heights insurmountable to you or I. Happening so much it causes us to constantly question ourselves cascading through life confused of whether or not were good enough if were doing the right thing or worthy at all. Its my opinion that this constant state of second guessing ourselves is what stops us from growing into our individuality and blossoming vibrantly into a bloom of vibrant colorful thoughts, opinions, skills and emotions. For how can one go through Metamorphosis (Playboi Carti) If your lied to and belittled to a point that you question and doubt your ability to construct your chrysalis. Please pardon my scattered brainness (new word)  with wording the same concept in different ways for what I am explaining is complicated which is why its going to take a couple days. Its once again my opinion society is constructed this way because it just proves the point that its easier to OBEY (Consume indulge in your animalistic ways and never apologize) for asking for forgiveness is better then asking for permission?!?! now that I have explained what how and why let me explain what I do to ensure I'm happy every day.

So I don't know about you but I get into foul moods I wake up on the wrong side of the bed I even hate some things on a daily basis. somedays I don't even want to get out of bed. Some of it has to do with what I am eating but there is also something off chemically at that time in your brain. How do Fix that... I scroll the GRAM HAHA. seriously though i do, usually while listening to music. whether I'm angry depressed or just fed up and exhausted/overwhelmed I notice that triggering my emotions, usually the ones that make me cry Is almost like i hit the reset button on my mood and overall well being. there's a variety of things that trigger tears for me. sometimes its music, a particular song or verse that sums up what I'm going through or how I am feeling. sometimes I'm reading something thats reassuring me that what I'm feeling is valid or its supportive sometimes its something that is inspirational and beautiful. its not usually something that is sad that makes me cry... Although anger is a secondary emotion things that are truly sad invoke rage in me as they should everyone. once I have that moment where I've reached my emotional threshold and finish weeping lol I then focus on my favorite things music, sunsets, jokes, goals, aspirations and what I have already accomplished which fosters a better mood pushing me up the hierarchy on a regular basis. this in turn makes me a better person in the community and in life knowing I can handle what is thrown at me and that I'm going to make it through the day...

since I do have to work and all that stuff we have to do...ill continue over the next couple days sharing with you what makes me, the man I have come to depend on, Never changing for anything or anyone. #stubborn

Music and Nature Everyone!!

Already Home 🎶🎼🎵🎧

[l-x-ie]

Tom Cruisin’

HAPPY BIRTHDAY REA!!!

@bleusarcelle

Contrary to popular belief, Lance could survive on being by himself. In fact, he, on occasion, liked being alone sometimes.

As long as he had something to do.

The space laundry’s done, the cryo-pods were washed, the training rooms were mopped, couches cleaned, pillows fluffed, windows shined, kitchen sanitized; pretty much everything was rubbed, buffed, or squeaked in some manner.

Now… he had nothing to do.

He doesn’t particularly feel like brushing up on Altean or reading or whatever. Everything that needed to be done is done. Hell, he even cleaned the Teludave lenses so they gleamed. But now he’s booooreddd.

He didn’t know why he was even left behind on this mission, it’s not like he did anything bad like blow up the castle. It was just an honest mistake! Seriously, how was he to know that fingerguns were considered a lewd gesture?

So here he is, alone, friendless, abandoned, a nomad, isolated in this cruel harsh universe. Not even Coran to keep him company. While his team was off on a diplomatic mission where he was banned for doing fingerguns towards the princess and the crown prince. His pick-up line didn’t help matters either.

Sigh.

He paced in the common room, recently waxed, seeing his reflection stare back at him. His Mamá would be proud. His socks slip and slide a bit on the floor. Hmmm…

He slid to one side of the room, careful not to fall. He turned back to the room, wide and expansive with the only obstacle being the half-circle couch. His cleaning supplies off in the corner, out of the way. He scooted a bit to the left to give him plenty of room.

Stripping off his jacket he threw it over onto the couch, his aim perfect. Pushing off of the wall he took the floor running before sliding the rest of the way, striking a stupid pose because he can.

His hands brace him when he hits the other side of the room. Giggling he turns back around and does it again. And again. And again. He laughs as he slips up in the middle of the room and end up sliding the rest of the way on his back. He lay there for a few moments, bored again, one can only do this so many times before it got repetitive. The scent of fake alien-lemon, almost the same clean smell back at home but a little more of a sickly sweet lemonade scent, wafting around him from his washing.

He rolled his head to the side, seeing the couch. Yup, he cleaned that too. He rolled his eyes to the entertainment system, which he dusted and wiped fingerprints off of. At the bottom of the screen were a bunch of cords and wires that Pidge never put away. He saw his cell, a memento from Earth that he never had the heart to get rid of, sitting idly by on the couch. His lips twitched.

He checked the time. He had plenty.

Let’s rock n’ roll.

With the first beats of music reverberated in the room Lance slid in on his socked feet. He kicked his leg out as the lyrics started, loud and rattled his bones. When Pidge explained to him how he could hook his phone up to the announcement system she probably didn’t think that he would be doing this.

”Just take those old records off the shelf!” He sang out loud with the lyrics. He spun around, arms out and jacket flaring from his bare torso; head bobbing with the beat. ”I’ll sit and listen to ‘em by myself. Today’s music ain’t got the same soul, I like that old time rock n’ roll.”

Hips swinging, hands snapping, aviator shades on from when they last went to the Space Mall, he moonwalked his way in his boxers to the back of the room. He surged forward and slid his way to where he left the cleaning supplies. Grabbing the Altean mop he used he started dancing with it, swinging it to the middle of the room before using it as a guitar as he rocked out the instrumentals on his knees. He floor hurt his knees a bit but he ignored it for the rock. He would ignore it for The Rock. That’s not what he meant, get your head out of the gutter. Perverts.

”Won’t go to hear them play a tango. I’d rather hear some blues or funky old soul. There’s only sure way to get me to go. Start playing old time rock n’ roll.” He got up on his feet, slipping slightly from the lack of grit but moving it into a twirl. Hand moving in muscle memory he played like he was back home.

He really hammed it out on his mop-guitar, hopping around on one foot despite slipping and falling several times before deciding to just play on the floor. Arching his back up into a half-bridge like he was on stage. If he ever were on stage he would hopefully not be just in his underwear and jacket.

”Still like that old time rock n’ roll. That kind of music just soothes the soul. I reminisce about the days of old. With that old time rock n’ roll!”  With the change of beat on the second time through of the reprise he swiveled himself on his knees and banged his head, feathery hair flying, with the time of the cowbell. He brought it home with the last guitar solo before ending the show on his knees, head down, and hand with the fake pick in the air, letting the last note fade in the air.

In the silence he started to laugh. Letting the rod of the broom drop to the floor he wrapped his arms around his stomach, cheeks aching from smiling. He never could have done it at home, too many siblings, and he never thought that he would be able to do it in space. What was it about dancing in your underwear that was just so freeing?

No one around, just him, himself, and his tighty-whities.

With the next song started he grinned and pointed in the general area where his phone was plugged in. “Yeah, my man!” He leaped up and started some old school moves his Papá and Mamá taught him with his sisters. ”The warden threw a party in the county jail. The prison band was there and they began to wail. The ba—“

“I wouldn’t have taught you to hook up your phone if this was what I had to come back to!”

No he did not scream like a girl.

He froze.

Six sets of eyes were very obviously staring at the scene in front of them. One fifth, or seventh, part of the Defenders of the Universe dancing bare chested save for his jacket, in his undies, aviators, and whose previous dance partner resting at his feet. Stared back. The rest of his team in their formal diplomacy outfits, all decked out in fancy fabric and embroidery, hairs combed back and twisted. To say the least underdressed was an understatement.

He turned red from his ears and allll the ways down his collarbones as they could plainly see. As he suddenly realized they could plainly see. At least he was wearing boxers. Keith couldn’t even look at him, small favors, everyone else stared with wide eyes.

As casually as he could he zipped up his jacket, covering his bare skin. He cleared his throat, barely heard over The King. “So, uh, I cleaned the floors.”

Pidge piped up, over the King of Rock. “So you decided to strip?”

He licked his lips. “Uh, yeah?”

Hunk threw his hands up. “Dude! You had a dance party and didn’t invite me?!” Right there in the middle of his teammates, leader, a princess, and a Pidge, the big ol’ Hunk of Burnin’ Love started stripping off his fancy garments until he was down to his own boxers and running over to jam out to Jailhouse Rock. He scooped the mop from the floor and started dancing with it.

The princess clapped her hands. “Oh! A dance! That sounds lovely!” She pulled out a dozen or so hair pins and let the sliver locks fall in waves down her back. “Do Earthlings normally host dance parties in their undergarments?”

Coran, somehow, without anyone noticing, was fully naked except for his briefs, standing proudly. Back straight, hands on hips, practically shining. “I’m not sure, Princess. But I’m willing to embrace it!” He pirouetted his way to the group, mimicking the odd spazzing that was Hunk’s dancing.

“Shiro! Keith! Pidge! Join us!” called Allura.

Shiro smiled and turned to leave, before he left he directed over his shoulder, “Don’t get too wild. I’m changing and coming back. I am not dancing in my underwear.”

Pidge pushed her glasses up and sighed. “I suppose I can join. But only if you people put on some pants! Good god, what are we? Heathens?!” She walked over to where Hunks discarded fancy pants were and threw them in his face. She leveled a look at Lance, lips twitching. “I don’t know where your pants are, I don’t want to know, as long as you put them on.” She shimmied her way to the other dancers, who now had pants, and started to do the robot.

Lance’s cheeks hurt again. Somehow he threw a dance party in his underwear. He turned to find his jeans, per Pidge’s order, to find Keith holding them out to him. Chuckling he put them on one leg at a time. When he buttoned them up the song changed to another song from the King. He grabbed Keith’s hands and started to shimmy around, legs and hips jiggling in an old dance move, fingers snapping. ”—higher, higher. It’s burning through my soul! Boy, boy, boy, you gonna set me on fire. My brain is flaming I don’t know which way to go.”

His singing stuttered to a stop when he felt Keith’s hands on the zipper of his jacket. “Pidge said to put your pants on, not your jacket.” He smirked at him, red in the face and one side slightly wobbly. Despite his sort-of-more-than-a-friend’s nervous attempt at flirting Lance still felt his face heat up. Ooh, ooh, ooh, I feel my temperature rising. Help me. I’m flaming I must be a hundred and nine.

Despite his burning face and the cool air that was quickly warming between their bodies Lance reeled Keith in and threaded their hands together, pulling him along in a goofy dance with no pattern or rhythm. Flailing limbs, burning faces, and sore cheeks.

When Shiro returned everyone was in a breathless state of laughter and smiles. A few complaints of not waiting from him quieted when Allura pulled him into a dance, pulling and tugging his arms and body with hers.

Everyone was either spinning goofily in circles, or moving with their partner like they were landing a planes, or in one case, slowly getting closer and closer together until the nearest sunlight of the planet filtered through the windows.

 You’re kisses lift me higher, like the sweet song of a choir. You light my morning sky with burning love.

Burning love.

[daebakinc]

BAP Party Baby NYC Fan Account

A very aptly named tour. The beginning felt like an encore and the encore felt like the beginning. It almost made me wish I was a person who liked parties, but then at most most parties we Babyz aren’t lucky enough to share with 6 talented, lovely men lol.

Before the show, I was nervous excited and honestly the before part of the concert was mixed. I stood next to some really nice fans in line so I was occupied most of the wait. Also, there were some great fan-initiated projects like a green ribbon to show support for Yongguk’s mental health struggles and a book of fanletters. However, once again, the venue had no idea how to deal with Kpop fans. Seriously, if you go to a concert in Hells Kitchen, be prepared for them to fuck up the line or lines multiple times.

The pre-show hype-up started with DJ B.Shoo and boy did he get the crowd jumping and dancing and pumping their fists in preparation for BAP. By the time they came on, we were all ready to party. I’ve gotta say, it really seemed like the boys had as much fun as we did; they were constantly smiling and told us multiple times how much they loved their NY concerts and how NY Babyz always made them feel loved. They were all very playful, both with each other and with us. They even taught us the “dance” for “Check On”, because we were doing it “wrong.”

About the dress code contest as a heads up to anyone going to other concerts: Each member apparently has a night to choose; for example, tonight was Himchan’s (I’ll write more about the details in his section). Basically, you’re probably only going to get chosen if you’re in the clearly visible from the stage. Also, make sure the key points of your “style” is clearly visible, I’d say from like chest up. This time the lucky girl got a recording of her sitting with the boys and lots of Himchan camera time lol.

On to the members:

I was really excited to see Yongguk because he’s been looking so healthy and recovered and soft lately now that he’s been back. He was my ultimate bias for a very long time, and he’s even more important to me now after his mental health struggles came to light. One of the first things he said to us was “I missed you guys too” and it really hit home as I watched him just how much I’d missed our gummy leader. That said, I really could barely take my eyes off him. He was smiling so much and he really looked happy, especially when he got a water gun to play with and when he was grooving along with us. We also made him laugh when we got louder when he asked. He really does look recovered and it almost made me cry I was so happy for him. He was full cheeked and glowing and most importantly, I cannot emphasize this enough, smiling. Yongguk smiling should put a smile on any and all Babyz’ faces, Yongguk biased or no. Just saying. Yongguk also, as always, threw himself into everything full force, whether it was dancing (goodness gracious, my fellow Babyz, the boy can roll his hips and when he’s in a flowy white top that shows off his tattoos on top of the hips, forget about breathing),or rapping or making sure we were having a blast. Even so, he was definitely keeping his eye on his members as well, lingering in his spot during choreography to make sure Himchan was okay. 

I’m sorry in advance if the others’ sections are smaller because I really couldn’t take my eyes off Yongguk that often lol.

Himchan, good lordy, I forget how handsome he is in real life and then it just slaps me in the face. He was smiling a lot too, especially in the beginning when he got a water gun like Yongguk and spotted the little, like maybe 7?, fangirl standing next to me. He was also adorably flustered when he had to pick a fan that fit his “style” for the “Baby Lounge” and kept looking around until Daehyun yelled at him to hurry up. He even asked for the others to help lol. He ended up choosing this cute pixie of a girl, Lisa, because she had pink hair. He helped her up to the stage and into her seat where she got a drink, got to do a love shot with him!, and got the aforementioned recording. He was really sweet and gentle because he could tell she was nervous, and even gave her a hug and kept his hand on her back when he walked her off. ( Also, WAY TO GO BABYZ for supporting her and chanting ‘Lisa’ instead of getting jealous!). I did feel bad for him though because it didn’t take long for his injury to become apparent. He kept grimacing and I was hoping he’d take a break, but of course he worked right through it like a champ, only slightly modifying choreography and keeping a smirk on his face for his lines. 

DAEHYUN SAW MY BROTHER,SMILED, AND WAVED AT HIM!!! Then again, it is probably hard to miss the 6ft, bearded guy wearing a white stormtrooper hat and rose crown who’s yelling your name lol. It really made my brother’s night and I’m really grateful to Daehyun for that. He was his usual self: tons of fan service, hints of grease tossed here and there, and that voice that could make angels sin. Turns out they got the same translator from last time, Daniel, and Daehyun called him their “Google Translate,” the dork. Out of all of them, he and Youngjae flirted with the crowd the most. Lots of getting close to the edge and smiling so fans could take pictures. He didn’t skimp on showing off his voice either. He, Jongup, and Youngjae performed “Fermata” together, and this is where his vocal powers really shone through. Of course, that’s not to say it didn’t when he nailed those live high notes either because he certainly did.

You know how sometimes you see something so beautiful that your brain just goes silent so you can totally soak it in in peace? That’s what happened tonight with Youngjae during his solo. Yes, mentally I know he’s one of the main vocals, but like with Himchan, sometimes I just take his voice for granted. Man, did he rectify that tonight. For real, he has such an amazing voice, I need to already own his solo song he performed. On top of that, he did do some dancing during his solo and while it’s not Jongup or Zelo level, it’s still good enough to give you pause. Of course, there’s also the fact that he’s downright gorgeous, which I think I may sometimes intentionally forget… Youngjae was on my side of the stage mostly, so I got to witness first hand how absolutely adorable and squishy this kid’s smile still is. He was smiling and waving at everyone in sight and it made me giggle like I have no business doing.

I have a very special place in my heart for Jongup and he reminded me why he has it all over again tonight. Yes, he may not speak the most or throw the most hearts. That means nothing when you consider how much this man must practice to be so flawless in his performances, vocal and dance. Jongup blew his solo out of the water with singing and rapping. Dancing doesn’t even need to be mentioned since we all know he can make anyone swoon with his body control. He’s really come a long away and I cannot express how happy I am that he’s able to now show off just how gifted he is instead of being confined to only dancing. He is a simple man who knows his talents and shows them off to their best potential and I loves him all the more for it. That’s not even touching on the fact that he’s cuter than a button when he smiles and y’all should’ve seen it when he was teaching us the dance. Hopefully I’ll be able to upload the video soon, but my laptop is being severely dumb with it. -_-

I, like many other Babyz, have watched Zelo grow from an awkward teen to a very confident young man. I feel like a big sister, but I say this truthfully: I am so proud of him and what he’s become. Even if what he’s become is 90% little shit lol. He really has come into his own because he shamelessly, and I mean shamelessly, flirted and teased us every second of the concert. Whether that was saying he “brought a gift for my beautiful girl” and tossing a rose into the crowd before his solo or repeatedly shaking his butt at us. He also laughed and made fun of Daehyun when he tripped leaving the stage after their fake last song. Then, he came out for the encore, but just danced around teasing us and reveling in our chanting of “Go Zelo,” before flopping on the floor. He did speak the most English for us though and it was the sweetest thing; even his solo was an English song(still working on figuring out the name). It really was like watching a second little brother fully come into himself, laughing at how full of himself he is and loving that he has both that confidence in himself and the sense of humor not to take himself too seriously because of it.

I will try to post pictures and videos tonight or soon, promise.

BAP is a very special group to me for many reasons, of which I’m sure many of you reading this share. I truly am beyond grateful these unimaginably talented and dedicated group of men came into my life and I got this chance to see them live again. I sincerely hope each of you get this chance as well so we can show BAP every chance we can that Babyz will be with them no matter where they lead.

[encoru]

float (chansoo, pg-13)

5, 860 words / implied depression and recreational drug use / Summer is in full swing and the sadness comes in huge, strong waves to Chanyeol these days.

Chanyeol tosses and turns on his bed. Summer is now in full swing and the heat comes in huge, strong waves these days. It threatens to swallow him whole until he drowns in his own sweat. He has put his air conditioner in maximum cool already but even the machine can’t seem to handle the humidity of the weather.

He’s tired. He just wants to fall asleep in peace.

Giving up momentarily, he gets up and takes off his shirt. He forms it into a ball and throws the cloth on the laundry basket opposite his bed. He lets out the breath he didn’t notice he’s been holding when it lands perfectly on top of the basket, but frowns when it falls on the floor shortly after. The basket is already overflowing with his soiled clothes. He makes a mental note to do his laundry first thing tomorrow morning.

Chanyeol walks to his window and stares at the city outside. Down below, streetlights flicker actively, joining the mix of yellow and red lights of vehicles traversing in the night. A few people are still walking, either coming to or going home from work. The day has long been over but the city never sleeps in this part of the world.

He looks back to his room. It’s almost completely engulfed by darkness. The only light comes from the moon outside, barely illuminating his empty king-sized bed and his bare walls.

Chanyeol suddenly feels a strong urge to escape.

He grabs his phone on the bedside table and types a message.

10:45 PM

Chanyeol

Let’s run away tomorrow.

He thinks it’s a stupid idea but he presses the send button anyway. He’s too tired to be logical right now. He’s tired of the summer and its heat, tired of the city and its restlessness, tired of nights like this where he gets this sinking feeling that he can’t seem to push away no matter how many times he tries. He just wants get away from here.

His phone buzzes a minute later. He gets the response he expects the least.

10:46 PM

Kyungsoo

Okay.

Chanyeol wakes up to a warm hand patting his face. In the haze of his sleep, he tries to push it away and bury his head on his pillows. The hand disappears, only to be replaced by strong arms lifting him by the shoulders, forcing him to sit up.

Chanyeol opens up one eye. In front of him is Kyungsoo, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He’s clad in a white shirt, black shorts, and his favorite pair of Flyknits. Behind him sits his backpack on the floor. He looks like he just freshly got out of shower.

“What time is it?” Chanyeol starts. He wants to ask, “Why are you here?” but Kyungsoo tends to show up in his apartment unannounced more often recently that he’s no longer surprised.

“Four o’clock,” Kyungsoo answers. “Start packing.”

Chanyeol does as he’s told. He retrieves his worn out duffel bag from the drawer and starts to grab clothes from his closet, throwing them haphazardly on the bed. He runs to the bathroom to gets his pouch of toiletries. He starts to pile everything on his bag when Kyungsoo grabs a shirt from him and starts to fold it neatly before placing it inside.

“I’ll take care of this. Go wash up.”

Chanyeol immediately undresses and proceeds to the bathroom. He feels his senses slowly start to wake up when the warm water hits his skin but his mind is still in a state of haze. He rubs his eyes then covers them in the curve of his palms in a vain attempt to alleviate their puffiness. It feels like he has only slept for a minute before he was forced to face consciousness again.

When he goes out, he sees Kyungsoo opening his drawers one by one, obviously in search of something. Their bags are now sitting side by side atop his bed.

“Where are your car keys?” Kyungsoo asks.

Chanyeol grabs the pants hanging on the door of his bathroom, fishes something out of its pocket, then throws the car keys to Kyungsoo. The guy catches it perfectly.

“Where’s your car?” He questions him back in return while he towels his hair dry. He doesn’t mind Kyungsoo using his car, but it’s so unlike him to use a vehicle not of his own. Chanyeol knows how much the guy loves his Maserati.

“I lent it to Baekhyun last night. He said he needs an extra car for a road trip with colleagues today. Let’s go.”

Chanyeol silently follows Kyungsoo out of his own apartment. He watches Kyungsoo place their bags in the back of his G65 and hop on the driver’s seat as if he does this everyday. As he gets on the passenger seat and puts on his seatbelt, he racks his brain for the other times that Kyungsoo has drove his truck. He thinks maybe Kyungsoo has done it twice - maybe the number is even greater - but his mind is still lagging. Giving up, he settles on plugging his phone to the aux cord and pulls up his morning drive playlist.

The engine soon roars to life. Chanyeol turns to Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo has always been small but when he’s sitting on a seat made for a six-foot tall guy, hands placed firmly on the big steering wheel in front of him like this - he just looks tiny. Kyungsoo looks back at him and normally Chanyeol would feel guilty when he gets caught staring, but there’s a glint in Kyungsoo’s eyes that forces his gaze to stay.

“Are you ready to escape?” Kyungsoo asks and smiles for the first time today.

“Where are we going?” Chanyeol asks him in return.

“To somewhere you won’t forget,” Kyungsoo replies as he pulls out of the parking lot, eyes now on the road.

Chanyeol finally peels his eyes away from Kyungsoo and stares ahead. He looks out on the window. Streaks of orange can now be seen on the sky, signaling the start of sunrise.  As the night slowly gives way to the day, Chanyeol feels the excitement thrum on his veins.

They’ve been on the road for almost two hours now and Chanyeol still sees no end in sight. The expressway they’re currently traversing through seems to run for miles and miles and he fears Kyungsoo might be getting weary soon. He still hasn’t told him exactly where they’re going.

“Muchangpo Beach,” Kyungsoo says all of a sudden, as if reading Chanyeol’s thoughts.

Chanyeol gapes. He’s never been to Muchangpo before, but he knows it’s a four-hour drive from Seoul. He doesn’t even know if Kyungsoo has slept well. The guy is notorious for working late hours on weekdays.

“Do you want to switch at the next gas station?”

“I’m good,” Kyungsoo says. The corners of his lips pull up into a smile. Chanyeol thinks if this is the sight that greets him every morning, maybe he’d be more motivated to get up and go to work. “No need to worry yourself. Sleep if you want to.”

“I’m not yet sleepy,” Chanyeol replies but his body breaks out into a yawn right after, betraying him. Kyungsoo chuckles. “No dude, seriously. Just tell me if you’re tired. We can switch once we’re halfway there.”

“Half of this drive involves a zigzag road, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo glances at him. “I’m really fine. I can manage.”

Chanyeol lets go of the argument after that. He shifts his attention on watching their surroundings. The sun has fully risen now and based from the bright lights streaming inside the car, he can only imagine how scorching hot it must be outside despite it only being eight o’clock in the morning.

“Thanks, man. Don’t worry, I won’t fall asleep.” Chanyeol says and smiles, even if he knows Kyungsoo isn’t looking at him.

An hour later, Chanyeol feels his eyelids begin to droop but straightens up on his seat when he sees the view gradually change. The tall buildings have been replaced now by a vast landscape of farmland. Old, traditional houses are situated at least one kilometer away from each other. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, the clouds more prominent and huge - a complete contrast to the pale, smoggy skyline that he’s used to.

“We’re almost there,” Kyungsoo says.

Chanyeol doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs his phone and stops the music, only to replace it with a hard EDM remix of Justin Bieber’s Cold Water and turns the speakers on full volume.

He sees Kyungsoo visibly grimace. Chanyeol laughs. The bass is thrumming is so hard that Chanyeol can almost feel it on his skin, with the way the music is blasting within the cramped space of his truck.

“Why did you replace the song with this?” Kyungsoo half-shouts.

“So you won’t fall asleep!” Chanyeol shouts back. Kyungsoo shakes his head in response, prompting him to laugh loud again. “I thought you like Justin Bieber!”

He starts to pump his fist in the air and makes little dancing gestures, acting the same way he does when he’s at an EDM party. Beside him, Kyungsoo has his condescending smirk on, the kind that he wears when he thinks Chanyeol is being dumb again, but he’s mouthing the lyrics every now and then.

At one point during the buildup of the song, Chanyeol grabs one of Kyungsoo’s hand and forces him to throw it in the air, causing Kyungsoo to smack him hard on the shoulder.

The road is almost empty now, save from them and the Sedan in front who seems to be taking their time. Chanyeol watches Kyungsoo tap on the turn signal before sharply moving to the next lane and taking over.

“That guy drives like he’s taking a walk in the park,” Chanyeol snorts.

“The speed limit around here is 100 kilometers, not 40.” Kyungsoo replies. They pass by a street sign shortly after that proves Kyungsoo is right. “But my former colleagues and I used to race around here. I went as bad as 180.”

Chanyeol gapes at Kyungsoo. He has that glint on his eyes again along with a fond expression on his face as he reminisces. Somehow, he finds it difficult to picture Kyungsoo driving on this road, going as fast as his car would allow, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel tight. Kyungsoo is the most level-headed and reserved person that he knows. He didn’t peg him to be the type to be as risky as that but then again, he reminds himself that there are still probably a lot of things he’s yet to learn about Kyungsoo.

“Did you win?” He asks.

“I didn’t,” Kyungsoo smirks. “I slowed down when I thought my life flashed before my eyes. The car started to shake.”

Chanyeol laughs despite himself. Then, an idea pops in his head. He turns to Kyungsoo. “Hey dude, what if—”

“No,” Kyungsoo shuts him down. “Don’t even think about it, Chanyeol. I’m not getting a speeding ticket again.”

Chanyeol turns the volume down when the road gives way to sharp turns. He holds onto the handle located above his window and sees Kyungsoo’s grip on the steering wheel tighten. He’s not afraid of zigzag roads and he knows Kyungsoo is a careful driver but this is his first time traversing through this path, on top of being an anxious bundle of nerves lately.

He feels the ringing on his ears as they ascend the hilly road. A hand rests on his left thigh.

“That’s the beach we’re going to,” Kyungsoo says without looking at him.

Chanyeol looks to his right. They’re right beside a steep cliff covered in pine trees and wild bushes. Down below, he sees the beach. Even from this distance, he sees the sea glimmer under the sunlight.

As they descend back on the low land, the pine trees that line up the path seems to increase in height. There comes a point where they seem to be caving in unto the road, like two hands waiting to grab you from above, and Chanyeol shivers at the thought of driving here at night. He’s determined to take over the wheel on their way back home but he’s starting to think maybe he should let Kyungsoo drive first, until they get out of this creepy path at least.

They stop at the next gas station in Muchangpo. Kyungsoo proceeds to the restroom while Chanyeol goes ahead to buy them snacks for breakfast. There are surprisingly only a few people despite it being the peak of summer, with most of them cargo drivers resting and grabbing something to eat.

Chanyeol remembers how he used to go on long drives like this with his family. Back when he was still a kid, his dad drove them cross-country every time he got a holiday. He and his sister Yoora fit themselves in the cramped backseat, covered in blankets and toys, and Yoora often kicked him for his long limbs that took up too much space. Of course, he kicked her back in return, which resulted in a fight. Their mom scolded them and both pinched their ears, and Chanyeol recalls whining about how unfair it was because he had bigger ears than Yoora so it hurted more for him. His dad never took his eyes off the road but he always laughed, eyes crinkling as he stared at his small family through the rearview mirror.

As they grew older, the long drives have lessened until it finally stopped altogether. His dad is too weak to drive across the country now and he’s lucky if he can even manage to stay behind the wheel for more than three hours straight. Nowadays, he’d rather hire a chauffeur or take a plane. Meanwhile, his mom is too busy managing the family restaurant. Yoora is the same, preoccupied between juggling work and married life at the same time.

Chanyeol sighs. Twenty-four is a good age. He has a flourishing career that enables him to live on his own. He can already make decisions without having to wait for his parents’ opinion. He can literally do anything he wants to because he’s now an adult. But some days, he just wants to go back to being a child again and come back to the safety of his mom’s arms, or bicker with Yoora about the smallest things, or fall asleep listening to his father’s voice. Some days, he just wants to stop pretending he’s got it all together and succumb to his misery. Some days, he just doesn’t want to feel anything.

He’s afraid those days are becoming more frequent as of late.

Chanyeol gets interrupted out of his thoughts when Kyungsoo taps him on the shoulder. He gives him his own black sesame bread and banana milk. Kyungsoo mumbles a soft “thanks” before taking a bite.

“Is it your first time here?” Kyungsoo asks, large eyes looking up at him.

Chanyeol tries to rack his brain for all the times he’s been at this part of Chungcheongnam before and fails to come up with any. “Yeah, it is.”

Kyungsoo smiles at him. “Good. You’ll love it here.”

I’ll love anywhere that’s not home, he wants to reply, but Kyungsoo is already walking back to his truck.

The 20-minute drive to the beach proper is more quiet, but Chanyeol simply lets it be. Kyungsoo hums a melody he doesn’t know, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in time with the tune. He seems to be really happy to be here.

They’re driving by a small village made up of tiny, bungalow houses when Chanyeol feels a hand rest on his thigh again.

“These are all designed by me,” Kyungsoo says, voice almost a whisper, as if he’s letting in Chanyeol on a secret. A small smile graces his lips.

“All of these?!” Chanyeol gasps. He looks back on the houses. They’re dainty bungalows reminiscent of old Victorian architecture, a design he hasn’t seen anywhere in Seoul. The houses are beautiful but most of them look empty.

“Yeah. I was fresh out of college when my uncle contacted me and said he needed a freelance architect for a small project. Never knew his definition of small was basically an entire village,” Kyungsoo explains with a chuckle.

Chanyeol nods in understanding. He tries to imagine a younger Kyungsoo, skinnier and smaller than he is now, bubbling with excitement as he spreads a hundred blueprints in front of him. Hands tainted with charcoal as he draws on a sheet of paper with his pencil, thick brows knitted in concentration, his black-rimmed glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. It’s an interesting image.

“You did great, those houses are beautiful,” He tells Kyungsoo.

“Thanks.”

“Are they all occupied?”

“Every once in awhile, yes,” When Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol frown in confusion, he adds, “Those are vacation houses. People either buy them as a spare or rent them out.”

If he had a house that beautiful, Chanyeol thinks, he’ll never want to live anywhere else. In fact, if he had a house designed by Kyungsoo himself, he’ll never ask for anything more. But then again he remembers his own condo apartment - which he learned later on was designed by Kyungsoo too - and how its big, bare walls seem to cage him in every time he arrives from work, a blatant reminder of the lack of warm bodies in the new space he has learned to call home.

Kyungsoo pulls over a few meters away from the beach. Chanyeol grabs their bags from the backseat before he gets out. He immediately regrets wearing his all-black tracksuit today the moment he finds himself directly under the sunlight, the sweltering heat beating down harshly on him. The heat is relentless. He’s only been outside for what seems like two minutes but he can already feel the beads of sweat collecting on his pits.

“You good?” Kyungsoo asks, fanning himself with the bottom of his shirt. Chanyeol nods. He suddenly wishes he had imitated Kyungsoo and wore a thin, white shirt as well.

The briny scent of the sea greets his nose as they make their descent down on the beach. The sun seems to shine even brighter in this area, a ball of blinding, yellow inferno on the blue sky. The sea and the sand sparkle under its light, making them appear like blankets of blue and gold littered with tiny crystals.

Chanyeol thinks if this is the view that greets him on each day of summer, then he probably wouldn’t mind the heat just as much.

He takes a couple of pictures of the scenic view with his phone before Kyungsoo tugs him by the arm and indicates Chanyeol to follow him.

They settle on an al fresco table located right next to a tiny open-air restaurant and bar. Chanyeol looks around. Muchangpo isn’t filled with a lot of people, much to his pleasure. Different stalls fill up in the place, most of them grilling seafood and corn under the shade of their huge umbrella. Cottages can be found on the whole length of the beach but not all of them are occupied. There are families on a vacation, a small group of friends, and some learning to kayak but other than them, there isn’t a lot to consider a crowd. He figures that most people either stayed within the congested white beaches near Seoul or went all the way to Jeju.

For once, Chanyeol is thankful Kyungsoo decided to bring him here.

Chanyeol pulls down his cap lower at the same time that Kyungsoo removes his. A strong gust of wind blows in their direction and Chanyeol watches it mess up Kyungsoo’s hair. His hair is getting too long now, fringe almost reaching his eyebrows. Chanyeol remembers how trimmed Kyungsoo’s hair was the first time they met.

“See that house atop that hill?” Kyungsoo points behind him and Chanyeol turns around. He sees a big white house nestled on the edge of a cliff. “That’s where my office used to be.”

“You used to live here?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “No, but I used to go here a lot for that project. My boss - my uncle’s friend - would let me work in that office whenever I was around.”

Chanyeol imagines doing the four-hour drive here on a daily basis. He doesn’t know if it’s something he can do.

“Did you swim a lot?”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “I never had the time to swim, but I went fishing with my boss sometimes. We picked clams when the sea parted.”

A picture of a younger Kyungsoo flashes in his mind. A skinnier and probably tanned Kyungsoo, dressed like he is now, joining hundreds of people who walk down on the emerged road from the sea, picking clams and seaweed with his bare hands.

Somehow, it feels like Kyungsoo is giving him a tour of his previous life, letting him on a secret, and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to make of it.

“That must be a really nice workplace,” Chanyeol replies and he means it, “You got an awesome view.”

Kyungsoo smiles. “Yeah, I know. I miss it sometimes.”

Chanyeol orders them a grilled tuna steak for lunch and volunteers to pay for the tab. Kyungsoo insisted on paying for his own but Chanyeol is more persistent. It’s the least he can do since Kyungsoo already drove them all the way here.

“This one’s on me though,” Kyungsoo says with a smirk when the waiter brings a beer tower on their table. Chanyeol could do nothing but laugh. He can’t recall when was the last time he went drinking during broad daylight. Some 2-3 years ago, maybe? Probably around the time when he was tearing his hair apart about not making it to the dean’s list during university.

Kyungsoo pours them a glass of beer each. Chanyeol downs the alcohol in one gulp, letting the cold, malty liquid wash away the saltiness in his mouth from the tuna he just had earlier. The sun is still shining bright but the breeze of the sea blows towards them, the wind a cool reprieve from the heat that lingers on his skin. Nothing else can be heard but the gentle splashing of water as the waves hit the shore, the caws of the crows flying above them, and the simple chatter of the people nearby.

Chanyeol briefly closes his eyes as he drinks his second glass. He basks in this kind of quiet. He thinks of the solitude of his big empty apartment, of the buzzing of the concrete jungle when he’s asleep. He discovers he prefers this silence more.

He never thought all it would take is a text message, a four-hour drive on the road, and Kyungsoo’s comforting company for him to feel and taste summer like this.

Chanyeol has just finished his third glass when he lets out the question that’s been bugging his mind for days. “Have you ever thought about leaving it all?”

Kyungsoo stares at him. “What do you mean?”

Chanyeol gulps. He’s starting to feel the alcohol now. “I don’t know, just leaving. Packing your bags and never coming back again. Starting all over in a faraway land where no single soul knows you. Figuring your life out.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “You mean soul-searching?”

Chanyeol looks back at Kyungsoo. “Is that what do people call it these days? Yeah, soul-searching or whatever.”

Kyungsoo sighs. Chanyeol watches him slosh his now half-empty glass as he stares ahead. There is nothing in front of them but the endless sea and the horizon.

“Sometimes. It’s easy to think about those things when you’re tired. It’s easy to think about escaping. But it’s hard to actually leave.”

“Because you’d be called a quitter?”

“Because you have responsibilities,” Kyungsoo turns and faces Chanyeol, staring at him in the eye. Chanyeol stares back. “People can be replaced depending on the job, but it takes time. Weeks or months, even. There are certain tasks only you can do and once you leave them, things might suddenly fall apart. You can’t just let that happen.”

Chanyeol nods in understanding. He knows exactly how that feels but the alcohol fuels his curiosity. “What if you didn’t have responsibilities?”

Kyungsoo laughs and looks at him like he’s the most ridiculous person ever. “What kind of question is that, Chanyeol?”

“Just answer me.”

Kyungsoo empties his glass before pouring alcohol in it again. Their beer tower is half-empty now. “If I didn’t have responsibilities, I’d just probably be here with you everyday.”

Chanyeol feels warmth crept up his neck. He isn’t sure if it’s the flush from the alcohol, the heat from the sun, or the way Kyungsoo is staring at him now with a funny smile gracing his lips.

“Dude, you’re so crazy,” Chanyeol laughs, hoping that Kyungsoo doesn’t notice his blush. He pours himself another glass and drinks it all in one go. He is definitely getting more tipsy now.

“What would we even do?”

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo pushes back his fringe that keeps getting blown by the wind, “Maybe just be like this. Drink beer during the day, catch fish in the afternoon, smoke weed in the evening. Then when the sea parts during the middle of summer, we’ll go pick clams and seaweed for the elderly. Sounds great?”

Chanyeol lets out the loudest laughter he’s had that day. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Kyungsoo laughs with him, cheeks forming a scrunch, eyes disappearing into crescents. Kyungsoo has always looked young for his age but he looks even younger whenever he laughs like this. Chanyeol sometimes wishes he was gifted with the look of youth as well.

When his laughter dies down, Kyungsoo holds Chanyeol again with his gaze. He schools his face into a serious expression but amusement lingers on his eyes. “What about you, Chanyeol? What would you do?”

He glances at the sea in front of him and imagines being washed away by the waves.

“I honestly have no idea,” he replies.

They pour themselves a glass each for the last time, emptying the tall beer tower. Kyungsoo clinks his glass against his before drinking his beer. Chanyeol replies with a laugh. The tips of Kyungsoo’s ears are red now and a flush has also crept up his neck but Chanyeol knows by experience that Kyungsoo is still far from being drunk. The guy is a heavy drinker, unlike him.

“Let’s walk on the beach,” Kyungsoo says.

Kyungsoo takes off his shirt right then and there, startling Chanyeol a bit. Chanyeol watches him fold his shirt neatly before placing it inside his bag. He tries not to stare at the way Kyungsoo’s chest heaves when he breathes, at the lines that dip on his stomach, or at how his pale skin seems to glow under the bright sunlight. Chanyeol gets rid of his own tracksuit and stuffs them inside his duffel bag, leaving nothing but his shorts on. He grabs his bottle of sunscreen and starts to spread them generously all over his torso.

“Want me to put some on your back?” Kyungsoo offers.

Chanyeol relents and sits down. Kyungsoo is a lot shorter than him and it would just be unfair to let the guy struggle to reach up to his back. He lets out a sigh when Kyungsoo’s hands start spreading the sunscreen on his bare back, leaving lingering warmth on every expanse of skin they touched.

Chanyeol does the same for Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo’s skin feel warm under his palms but his back remain strong and firm to the touch.

They change into their slippers and start to walk by the beach, the fine sand dipping on each step they take. He feels the sand seep between his toes.

“What do you want to run away from?” Kyungsoo asks, looking up at him.

Chanyeol is quick to look away. He’s afraid he might get lost in those round eyes; they seem to compete with the vastness of the sea. “I,” he tries, “I just want—”

What do you want to run away from? The question resonates within Chanyeol. He wants to run away from his job, he wants to run away from responsibilities, he wants to run away from the ghosts of himself that seem to haunt him every night. But that’s the problem — he doesn’t know what exactly he’s running away from. He doesn’t think he’s capable of giving Kyungsoo a concrete answer.

When he glances at Kyungsoo, he discovers the guy is still looking up at him.

“I,” Chanyeol tries again, “I just want life to stop sometimes.” He scratches his head. He feels so stupid.

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “But life doesn’t stop for anybody.”

Chanyeol pouts. “I know! But don’t you ever think about it, Kyungsoo? Will we always just stay like this? Working our asses off in the corporate world while trying to save up for a future that doesn’t even hold any guarantee? We sacrifice our time for our friends and our family. And by the time we’re finally stable, when the day comes that we finally have time for them..t-they’re…”

He stops as he runs out of breath but Kyungsoo is still looking at him, encouraging him to go on.

“..T-they’re either too old and frail to do the activities we’ve always wanted them to do with us. Or gone.”

Chanyeol blinks. He doesn’t want to think about it, but it crossed his mind too many times. The good thing about growing up is your perspective broadens. The bad thing about it is realizing that as you grow old, so does your parents, and they seem to do it faster than you do. Chanyeol has always been afraid of not being able to keep up.

“I understand,” Kyungsoo replies a moment later. “My dad always nags me about coming home to Ilsan even though I do it every weekend. Says my mom needs company.”

Chanyeol looks at him. “But doesn’t Seungsoo live next door?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Yes, but he’s busy with his own kids now. Mom doesn’t want to bother him if she can help it.”

They stop by a closed shop in the middle of the beach. The shop features a wall mural of a girl playing a piano by the sea, her face covered by her long, silky hair. Nimble fingers touch the piano keys while the sea continues with its waves behind her. The mural is made of such vibrant, striking colors that Chanyeol ponders fishermen could probably still see it even from a distance.

“My parents are getting old and I’m afraid I’m disappointing them,” Chanyeol whispers as he traces the lines of the mural with his fingers, “I’m already 24 and I still don’t know what to do with my life.”

“You got your whole life to figure that out,” Kyungsoo replies. He’s wearing one of those bright, reassuring smiles again that Chanyeol loves so much. “You’re not supposed to figure out everything at 24, Chanyeol. Stop rushing things.”

Chanyeol blinks. “Damn, when did you get so wise? Did you inhale Confucius or something?”

Kyungsoo moves to smack him but Chanyeol is quick to recoil. Thankfully, the hit doesn’t come.

“My dad’s words.”

Kyungsoo suddenly removes his slippers and runs to the sea. Chanyeol chases after him. The sand feels burning hot under his soles. He finally gets relief when his body finally makes contact with the water.

The water is shallow in these parts. Chanyeol has to walk around five meters before he gets submerged up to his chest. The waves are gentle too, swaying him every now and then but not strong enough to throw him back to the shore.

Kyungsoo appears beside him. His body is splayed out in the water, eyes closed, as he floats in the sea.

“How do you like Muchangpo so far?” Kyungsoo asks.

Chanyeol sloshes water at him. “I like it. It’s very quiet.”

Kyungsoo opens his eyes and stands on his feet. The water reaches up to his ears, whereas it only reaches a little past Chanyeol’s chest.

“I go here whenever I need to escape. It makes me feel grounded,” He gestures to the bungalow atop the hill, “Makes me remember how it all started. Why I’m doing the things I’m doing right now.”

Chanyeol hums. He can’t think of any place that makes him feel grounded but he knows one person who does and he’s right in front of him.

“Sometimes, you just have to let it go, Yeol. Life doesn’t stop, but this is why we’re here. So you can run away with me,” Kyungsoo adds with a smile, lips forming into a heart as he flashes his full teeth.

Chanyeol smiles back at him.

Kyungsoo returns to his former position again and floats on his back.  Chanyeol imitates him, arms on his sides. The water feels amazing on his back. He tries to ignore the sunlight that directly hits him on the face.

“Sorry, I just like doing this. Letting the waves sway me. It’s so..” Kyungsoo says beside him, “..relaxing.”

“Mmm..”

Chanyeol wishes life is as easy as floating in the sea. He wishes he could just let go of everything and completely let the waves take hold of him and bring him wherever they please. Then, his mind strays again to a thought he had earlier.

It would be so easy now, with him floating like this, for the waves to take him for good, for the sea to swallow him whole. He bets no one would even notice as the waves come back to kissing the shore because that’s what they’re always meant to do.

Chanyeol opens his eyes when he feels Kyungsoo’s fingers thread with his. “Stop thinking.”

Chanyeol stands on his feet. Kyungsoo follows him. Kyungsoo shoots him a deadpan glare.

“Stop thinking,” He says again.

Chanyeol wants to scream. He wishes it was that simple. His mind has always been on overdrive for as long as he can remember.

“What are you even saying?” He replies, not intending to sound irritated, but he still does.

“Clear your mind for once, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, stepping closer. He still hasn’t let go of his hand. “I brought you here because you said you wanted to run away. So stop overthinking and just enjoy the water.”

Chanyeol sighs heavily. Kyungsoo is right.

Chanyeol floats on his back again and lets the sea wash his worries away, even if just for today. Kyungsoo threads their fingers together, his hand soft and comforting beneath the water.

Summer is in full swing and the sadness comes in huge, strong waves to Chanyeol these days.

But with the sea on his back and Kyungsoo on his side, Chanyeol thinks the waves aren’t strong enough to take him and let him drown. He’d simply let himself be thrown back to the shore, because that’s always been where he’s meant to be.