#the album will pull me out of my depression tonight somehow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyuniepot · 4 years ago

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the butterfly effect. || chapter 6

chapter word count || 5,372

genre || thriller, angst, drama

members || mark lee, na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, zhong chenle, park jisung

warnings || mentions of death, implications of depression

pairing || fem!reader x jaemin || slight fem!reader x mark

synopsis || you never thought you’d be able to play with fate so easily, especially not through some shady app. but you suddenly must say goodbye to what you know and hello to a new world where everything seems perfect.

taglist || @gothboyjisung @jeongyoonohs @doiewonu @huanginjoon @wordsgodeep @colpen

previous chapter

You woke up way later than usual. You were still in the clothes you wore yesterday. You immediately got up and showered, changing into a new pair of clothes.

When you were done, you checked your phone.

Mark

hey, when do u wanna hang out?

you can come over here if u want.

or whatever. its fine

oh, you probably aren’t awake yet….

lol. let me know when ur awake.

You smile.

You

hey im awake now

i can come over to ur place, is any time fine?

i just gotta get ready and stuff

You set your phone down and look at yourself in the mirror, continuing to dry your hair. You know you still had to make your final decision on whether you were going to leave or not. Your mind couldn’t make a decision. There were pros and cons to doing both.

If you were to go back, you’d return to a life with no Mark and a Jisung who isn’t happy. But you’d have Hyuck. You’d have Jaemin, and Jeno and Renjun. You’d have your old friends back. You could use what you learned here to fix your life.

But Mark. He was the only thing stopping you. You wanted to take him along with you but you knew it was impossible. You just couldn’t imagine leaving him again when you had spent so long yearning for him to be back.

You jump at the sound of your phone dinging.

Mark

yea, come on over. i’ll be here all day hahah

You

got it. i’ll be there soon

You then clicked on Hyuck’s name to text him.

You

i know this is annoying but please give me the time i need. i’ll let you know tonight what my decision is.

You turned your phone off, grabbing your camera and putting it in your new bag. Jisung was in his room so you gently knock and wait for a response.

Jisung opens the door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you respond. “I’m gonna go to Mark’s today, are you gonna be okay here alone?”

Your mother’s workload had definitely decreased, but she still worked long hours. You only got to see her in the mornings before school.

Jisung nods. “Yep, that’s fine.”

“Okay.” you exhale. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He nods, and you turn away and head downstairs. You make your way outside and start your journey to Mark’s house. Luckily, you had gone there once since you showed up, so you knew your way.

Everything was still so familiar. Of course it was; this was the town you grew up in after all. And that’s why it was so hard to differentiate from your old life sometimes. Everything still felt right at times.

You were glad Mark didn’t live too far away. You spotted him outside, sitting on one of the concrete stairs that lead to the porch. His face lights up when he spots you, getting up and making his way to you.

“What’s up?” he smiles.

“Nothing,” you reply. “What’s the plan for today?” you both continue making your way to his house.

“I don’t have anything planned, really…” he says, scratching his head. “We just chill for a bit and then figure out something if you want.”

You nod, going up the stairs to his porch. He opens the door, letting you in. You follow him up to his room, suddenly feeling nervous. You hadn’t been alone with Mark like this. You barely even knew how to be around him without feeling awestruck.

He opens the door to his room and it hits you. It was so perfectly… him. It was just what you expected, what you always imagined it would look like. An acoustic guitar stood in the corner of his room, bed haphazardly made. A record player was set up on the left side, the records he owned displayed on a nearby shelf. Posters of all different subjects were taped on the wall, some personal photos mixed in. You spotted one of you and Mark as children, one of the photos you always looked at when you missed him.

It hurt to look at everything. But you had to force your emotions aside.

“Yeah, had to switch up the old room,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I think this looks way cooler.”

You nod. “It looks great.” your voice is barely audible. You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos on the wall.

“Oh,” Mark notices you staring at the wall. He walks to where his bed is, squatting down and pulling a book out from under it. “I found a whole photo album of old photos.” he says. He motions you to come sit down next to him, and you oblige.

He opens it. The first few pages were photos of him as a baby, but it quickly changed to photos of him as a kid. It didn’t take long for you to appear. You had seen them all before, but it was still nice to look at them. There were even pictures from your trip to the butterfly enclosure, an unsure look plastered across your face. Mark was beaming.

“Do you remember this?” Mark puts his finger on an old photo of you and him at a fair — huge grins on both of your faces. He laughs. “We rode a ride and I swore I was gonna get sick after it. You were so freaked out by it that you avoided me until I convinced you I felt better.”

You laugh. You did remember it. You remembered running away from him and staying at least 10 feet away until you finally gave in.

He turns a few pages. It was time to look at photos that you had never seen, stories that you had never heard, the things that could have been. You just tried to keep your breathing steady.

There’s a picture of you and him together in somewhat formal clothing — probably your first highschool dance. Hyuck and another boy you didn’t recognize stood behind you, giving both you and Mark bunny ears.

“You remember Johnny, right?”

That must have been the other boy. You just nodded. Of course, you had no idea who he was.

“He moved here when we were like 12, right?” he looks at the photo. “I miss him. I don’t get to talk to him a lot because he travels so he’s always in a different timezone but… when I do, it’s like he never left.” he adds.

You wrack your brain — did you ever know anyone named Johnny? You were sure you didn’t. He didn’t exist in your old life. But he had somehow been a part of your life in this universe at some point. He was visibly older — not by too much, but he was definitely more mature. It didn’t help that Mark had a baby face. He had brown, medium length hair that was kind of shaggy. He seemed charming. But since there was no sign of him in your phone, you assumed you didn’t keep in touch with him.

Mark flips the pages a few more times. There’s a picture of you, Mark, and Hyuck on what seemed to be your last halloween together. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when, but you were probably 14 or 15. You were dressed up as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Hyuck was dressed as the beast and Mark was dressed as Lumière, the candlestick.

You look at the girl in those photos. You wished you had her brain; You wished you remembered everything the way she did. Looking at yourself in the photos didn’t feel right. No matter what you did, you couldn’t convince yourself that it was you. Because technically, it wasn’t. Where was that girl now? Was she living your old life? Spending her days with Jaemin, desperately wishing for Mark?

“Are you okay?” you snap back to reality at the sound of Mark’s voice. He had closed the book and was looking at you with a concerned look on his face.

You let out an awkward chuckle. “Oh… yeah. I’m fine… I just kinda zoned out.”

“Yeah… you’ve been doing that a lot lately…” Mark stands up and slides the book back under his bed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You don’t want to reply. Your eyes start burning with tears.

“Yeah,” you reply softly.

“That’s why I wanted to hang out with you today. You’ve seemed so… off lately… No offense,” Mark sits back down and looks at you. “I don’t mean that in a mean way, I just mean… it seems like something is bothering you and… are you crying?”

Tears finally escape your eyes, cascading down your cheeks. You stay silent as Mark wraps his arms around you, tightly hugging you.

“Oh god, oh no… I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” Mark says.

You can’t help but smile as you cry into his chest. “No… it’s not your fault…”

He pulls away from the hug. “Is something actually wrong? You know you can talk to me… I heard bottling up your emotions isn’t healthy…”

You take your time collecting yourself to try and think of an excuse. Obviously you couldn’t tell him the real reason why you seemed so out of it -- oh yeah, Mark, I’m from a universe where you died and I ended up here because I used some app to wish for you back and I have literally no idea what’s going on half the time.

“I’m just stressed,” you tell him. “I’ve never been this stressed so I don’t really know how to deal with it.”

“Ah…” Mark nods. “I get it… I mean, we’re in our last year of school. Everyone’s gonna expect us to act like adults soon. It’s… scary.”

You nod, wiping your tears. I wish that was what I was stressed about.

And that’s when it clicks. You realize you don’t belong here. You were destined to live in a world without Mark. But that thought only makes you start crying again.

Mark hugs you again. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Just let it out, okay?”

So you do. You let everything out. Your shoulders shake as you sob. To anyone, it would seem like you’re overreacting. Sobbing in your best friend’s arms because you’re stressed. But this was the one thing you felt like could make you feel better.

For years, you laid in your bed alone, sobbing because you missed Mark. Because you felt guilty. And if you weren’t crying over him, you wished he was there to comfort you. And now it finally happened, and you were gonna relish the moment. This was all you ever wanted.

You feel guilty — Mark just wanted to hang out and here you were, making him comfort you as you cried for God knows what.

You force yourself to stop crying. Mark lets you go and levels himself with you, wiping your face with his thumb. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “We’re best friends… you can tell me anything, y’know?”

You nod. “I know… I just… didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Mark furrows his brows. “Hey come on, don’t say that. You wouldn’t be bothering anyone. Don’t think like that.”

You hiccup. You could feel that your face was puffy from crying.

“Okay,” Mark stands up. “I think this calls for some relaxation, right? I’m gonna get a bunch of blankets and we’re just gonna lounge.” He grabs a spare blanket and wraps it around your shoulders, helping you stand up. He leads you to his basement. There was a large couch and a TV. You sit down.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Mark turns the TV on. “Okay. I’ll find something for us to watch. Get comfortable, okay?”

You scoot around for a bit before finding a comfortable spot. The crying you did made your eyelids heavy.

Mark joins you on the couch, clicking through the TV guide, searching for something to watch. He clicks on a movie before opening his arms. “Come here.”

Maybe it wasn’t right, but you let him hold you. You listen to his heartbeat, trying to keep yourself awake until you couldn’t fight it anymore.

[4:27 p.m.]

Your eyes flutter open. You glance around, taking in your surroundings and remembering you were in Mark’s basement. You realize you were still in his arms. You quickly sit up, making Mark jolt awake.

“Oh shit,” he says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Did we both fall asleep?” he chuckles.

You smile. “Yeah… looks like it.” You stretch your muscles. “Did you get to watch any of movie?”

“Nope.” Mark replies. “I think I fell asleep right after I realized you had,” he says softly.

You groan. “What time is it? We didn’t sleep through the day, did we?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

Mark pulls out his phone to check the time. He shakes his head. “Nope. Only about two and a half hours.”

You sigh in relief. It was still a long time, but at least it was still daytime. “Oh, good.”

“Do you wanna go get some food? We should probably get up so we don’t fall asleep again,” he laughs.

You smile. “Good idea.”

You both make your way upstairs and you retrieve your bag from Mark’s room before leaving the house. The weather, like yesterday, was nice. A light breeze blew, but it wasn’t cold thanks to the sun. You could hear children playing in a yard nearby. You and Mark made your way to a restaurant nearby. It was one that you didn’t recognize. It was a bit retro-themed and was decorated like a classic diner.

You and Mark sit down at a booth, looking at the menu. “We haven’t been to this place in forever… they got a bunch of new menu items.” Mark mumbles.

You look at the menu. It had all kinds of different types of burgers, but most importantly, milkshakes.

Mark gasped. “They got rid of the cookies ‘n cream milkshake? Are you kidding me?” he whines.

You laugh. “Really? That has to be a popular flavor.”

“Right? It’s so good too, I order it everytime. So why would they — oh, nevermind… they just rebranded it…” Mark says softly, hiding his face with the menu.

Your eyes find their way to the milkshakes; they had simply changed the name of the milkshake from Cookies ‘N Cream to Oreo. You giggle. “Dork.”

“Hey, come on! I was panicked, alright?” Mark laughs.

A waitress swings by and takes your orders — you just order a classic burger and fries with a milkshake with your favorite ice cream flavor.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You pull it out to see who’s calling. It’s Hyuck. “Um,” you swallow hard. “I’m gonna go wash my hands real quick.” you tell Mark.

He nods. “Alright.”

You get up from the booth and quickly walk to the bathroom. You close the door behind you, praying that it was empty. “Hello?”

“God, took you long enough.” Hyuck mutters.

“Why’d you call?” you sigh.

“Because I think we need to actually talk about this… I mean, if you decide to leave, I need to be able to tell you when to send the message.” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “I told you I would let you know later. I’m with Mark right now.”

“Are you serious?”

You pause. It’s deathly quiet. You can feel Hyuck’s anger through the phone. “He wanted to hang out, he asked me last night when he dropped me off… did you really think I’d say no?”

“You should’ve,” he sighs. “You know you’re only making it harder on yourself.”

You knew he was right. “I just… wanted to make some final memories before possibly leaving,” you tell him.

“I… understand.” Hyuck adds quietly. You hear him sigh. “You know this is hard on me too, right? I’m sorry I keep being so pushy but… I just wanna get out of here.”

It’s silent again. For the first time, you realize you never even thought about how Hyuck felt. You knew he missed Mark just as much as you did.

“That’s why I’ve been kinda distancing myself from him. Because the first day we were here, it was hell. All I could think about was that day… it’s all I can think about.” he says. You can barely hear him.

“Hyuck…” you whisper.

“Being here… with him… it’s too much for me to handle. You don’t think I feel the same way? I know this is a universe where we could both be happy with Mark, but something keeps telling me I can’t stay here. Too much has changed. I can’t be comfortable here.” Hyuck’s voice starts trembling. “Which is why I refused to spend any time with Mark. Because he’s the only reason I want to stay. But I miss my old life. I miss my friends. I don’t know what the hell went wrong here, but my life is just so much shittier here. Everything that could’ve gone wrong feels like it went wrong.” he rants.

You feel so much guilt for not taking the time to think about why he’d want to leave. You spent so much time thinking about yourself and Mark because you knew you’d always have Hyuck.

“Not even Mark makes staying worth it.” he spits. You can’t tell if he’s angry or sad; it’s probably both. “We were so stupid for coming here,” he finally chuckles, although you can tell it isn’t from happiness. “We were so fucking stupid.”

“I know,” you reply softly.

“I’m sorry. Call me later, okay?”

He hangs up before you can say anything. You slowly put your phone down and shove it back into your pocket. You want to cry, but you’ve already spent too much time in here. You rush out of the bathroom, and instantly run into someone.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking up at the person. Your heart almost stops.

“No worries,” Jaemin says, flashing you a polite smile.

Your heart starts pounding. You try to tell yourself to stop staring at him, but this was the first time you’ve seen him since coming here. He doesn’t look too different — hair is darker now but everything is the same. The same eyes you fell in love with. The smile that gave you butterflies in your stomach. He’s dressed in normal clothes, so that meant he was probably eating here alongside you and Mark.

You want to lunge towards him, hugging him so tightly he could never leave you again. But you finally just nodded and forced your legs to walk past him; they had started trembling and you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand there. You were glad Mark’s back was to you. You sat back down at your seat, your hands now trembling

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You nod. You clear your throat. “Yeah… uh, sorry I took so long. My mom called while I was in there.”

“Oh, okay.” Mark takes a sip of his milkshake that had been set on the table while you were gone. “You’re not in trouble or anything, right?” he asks, eyes widening.

You smile. “No.”

“Okay, good! I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for hanging out with me or something…” Mark says.

You stir your milkshake with your straw. You weren’t feeling very hungry anymore, but after the first sip, it was too delicious to stop.

“(y/n)!” you hear a voice calling your name. You turn your head towards the direction it’s coming from.

Naeun walks to your table. “I didn’t even see you here! What’s up?” she smiles.

“Oh… nothing.” you reply, forcing a smile in return. “Me and Mark are just hanging out and we were hungry, so here we are.” you tell her.

“Of course. Partners in crime. Hi, Mark.” Naeun responds. “Jaemin brought me here. Can you believe I’ve never been here before? This place has been up for years and I’ve never had the chance.” she pouts.

“Really?” Mark speaks up. “You gotta try their milkshakes, they’re delicious.” he tells her.

Naeun chuckles. “Will do. What flavor did you get? It looks good.” she asks.

“Oh! Cookies ‘n cream. It’s my favorite.” he replies, smiling.

“That’s a good flavor.” You hear Jaemin before you see him. Why is he talking about ice cream? He can’t even eat dairy. You think.

“How would you know?” Naeun teases, as if she was a mind reader. “You can’t have ice cream.”

Jaemin enters your line of sight, wrapping an arm around Naeun’s shoulders. It feels like a gunshot to your chest. “Well, I’m not supposed to have it. But these milkshakes make all the pain worth it.” he jokes.

Mark laughs. “He’s right though. How’s it going, Jaemin? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Jaemin grins. “I’m doing good. School has been way harder lately, but…”

“Yeah, I would assume so. I can’t believe you got into that school, no offense…”

Jaemin chuckles. “None taken. I was surprised I got in, too. I just wish they had accepted me earlier so I wouldn’t have had to leave halfway through a school year. But, I come back here and visit almost every weekend, so…”

Watching Mark and Jaemin talk felt weird. You didn’t even know they knew each other. That also answered your question as to why you never saw Jaemin at school. You wonder what school he had been accepted to.

“Oh, how rude of me. Hey, (y/n). How are you?” Jaemin turns his attention to you. “I was gonna talk to you earlier but you ran away from me.” he laughs. “I didn’t even realize it was you until you were gone.”

“Sorry…” you say softly. “Um… I didn’t realize it was you either.”

You can feel Jaemin’s eyes piercing into you. You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t.

“Well, I’d love to hang out with you guys, but after we eat I have to drive Jaemin back home… maybe we could all hang out another time? Double dates, maybe?” she says, grinning.

“Date?” Mark asks, furrowing his brows. “I mean… yeah, we can hangout but…” he laughs awkwardly.

“I’m teasing,” she says, glancing at you. “Both of you get so defensive!” she jokes. “Not trying to pressure you guys, but you’d be really cute together.” she presses.

“Okay, Naeun, enough,” Jaemin chuckles. “Mark’s gonna explode if you keep going.”

You look at Mark, whose face was red from embarrassment.

“We’ll see you guys later then,” Naeun says. The couple walk away from your table, Jaemin’s arm still around her. Your throat gets tight.

“Gosh…” Mark giggles. “Sorry. Stuff like that just gets me embarrassed,” he says, shaking his head.

You smile. “It’s okay.”

A waitress comes to the table a few moments later and sets the food you ordered on the table. Your appetite had come back. Seeing the food made you realize how hungry you really were.

Mark takes a bite of his burger. “I swear this place always hits the spot,” he says.

He was right. The food was really good. You were actually kind of mad this restaurant didn’t exist in your universe. It was perfect.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks. It’s so sudden, your first response is to just stare at him with wide eyes.

You swallow your food. “Yeah, why?”

Mark shrugs. “I just wanted to check in. You kinda froze up when Naeun and Jaemin were talking to us.” he says softly.

“Oh…” you set your burger down. “I was feeling kind of awkward because I ran into Jaemin when I left the bathroom. And then I ran away from him,” you laugh.

“Ah,” Mark nods. “I see.”

“Yeah… I’m kind of good at that. Making everything awkward.” you chuckle.

“Oh, shush.” Mark laughs. “Have you ever met me?”

You giggle. “Okay, well… if you’re the most awkward person on the planet, then I’m the close second.” you tell him.

“And that’s why we make such a good pair.” he replies.

Why did you feel so guilty every time you remembered how much you loved Jaemin?

You both finished your meals; Mark, of course, offered to pay for everything. Then you both left the restaurant. The sun was beginning to set.

“Ooh, wait,” you tell Mark, pulling your camera from your bag. He stops to look at you. “Let me take a picture of you here,” you say, pointing to one of the neon signs in the window.

Mark gets in front of it and poses, and you snap the photo. You both watch as it develops. “Perfect.” you show it to Mark.

You decide to head back to Mark’s house to hang out for a few more hours. As the sun set, the city was becoming less crowded. You passed children riding their bikes back home, people arriving home from work. Everything felt so normal, once again.

“Hey,” Mark says as you reach his room. “Check this out.” he grabs his guitar. “I finally learned how to play this song,”

“Hmm?” you lounge on his bed. “What song?”

He strums his guitar. You could already tell how good he had gotten at it; you only got the chance to hear him play twice before he died.

You recognize the song instantly — I’m Yours by Jason Mraz. It brings a smile to your face. Mark sings along softly. You realize his singing voice has gotten better as well.

You listen to him sing and shift to your side, propping yourself up with your elbow and resting your head on your hand. He’s completely immersed in the music. He looks so happy. You slowly retrieve your bag and take a photo of him.

He stops. “Oh… sorry. I kinda got preoccupied there,” he laughs.

“No, it’s okay…” you reply, feeling guilty for pulling him out of his music-induced-daze. “I was enjoying it.”

“Really?” Mark taps the strings of his guitar. “Well… I’ll finish the song then.” he continues strumming, taking a few moments to find where he left off.

You watch him, a soft smile on your face. This was a moment you definitely wanted to savor. If you were going to forget your time here, you at least wanted to remember this. It was beautiful. It was Mark.

[10:45 p.m.]

Mark offered to walk you home before it got too late — he had forgotten that it was a school night for him.

“Are you sure your mom won’t be mad?” Mark asks, nervously.

You laugh. “Once again, no. If she was worried about me we’d see flyers on the telephone poles,” you joke.

Mark chuckles. “Okay… I just don’t wanna get you in trouble for keeping you out so late. I lost track of time, to be honest…”

You nod. “Me too.” You had spent hours listening to Mark play his guitar and he tried to help you learn a song, but you weren’t as musically gifted as him, so it didn’t go very well. But Mark acted as if you were the God of Guitar, cheering when you played a few chords.

“Today was really fun.” he says softly. “If you ever wanna do this to… unwind… or whatever… just let me know.”

You smile. “Of course.”

Your heart drops as your house comes into view. It was your last few moments with Mark.

He walks you to your doorstep this time; he usually just walks to your driveway. It’s almost as if he knows. “Well,” Mark says, sighing. “We’re here.”

You grin, trying to mask your sadness. “Yeah… thanks for today. It was really fun!” you say.

Mark stares at you for a moment. “Um…” his eyes dart around, not sure where to look. “I…”

You watch him as he struggles to form a sentence. “Mark?” you ask softly.

He closes his mouth before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I just had a lot of fun today.” he says.

You nod slowly. What did he really want to say? “Hurry and go home,” you tell him. “I don’t need you being all tired tomorrow.” your voice is barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you for a few moments more. “You’re right,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m tired already… I’ll probably sleep like a baby when I get home.” Whatever tension was there had disappeared. In a spur-of-a-moment decision, you wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” you tell him. Your head is against his chest; You can hear his heart beating.

“Of course,” he breathes. He finally wraps his arms around you. “Are… you okay?” he asks again.

You feel tears rushing to your eyes again. You chuckle. “I’m fine. I just… I love you.” you whisper. “You’re my best friend, okay? And… I need you to know that.”

He rubs your back. “I love you too,” he replies. “I’m so glad to know you.” he says.

You let him go. You knew you had to.

“Well… I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mark says.

You nod. “I’ll see you.”

You knew it was a lie, but only on your end. He’d see you. You wouldn’t be seeing him. But you knew what you were doing was right. Mark starts walking away, giving you one final smile before he was out of sight.

You push your front door open, going straight to your room and letting yourself cry. You let all of your emotions out. You wanted to run to Mark and hug him again and you never wanted to let go.

You finally pulled yourself together when you heard a faint knock on your door. You wipe your eyes and face quickly, although you knew your face would be puffy from crying. “Come in.”

Jisung peeks in. “Are you okay?”

You nod, although it’s unconvincing — his simple question makes you cry more. “I’m fine.”

“Why are you crying?” Jisung opens the door completely and enters, sitting next to you on your bed. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m not sad,” you lie. “I’m just… feeling a lot of emotions right now.”

Jisung furrows his brows. “But… you seem sad.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not, bud. I’m fine. Nothing happened between me and Mark, if that’s what you’re asking. I guess I’m just feeling… thankful. For Mark, and you, and all my friends.”

“Oh…” you can tell Jisung is still confused, but he shrugs it off. “Well… I guess as long as you aren’t sad, it’s okay.”

You feel him wrap and arm around you. You hug him back, feeling much more relieved now that you had cried a bit more.

“I’m going to bed now,” Jisung says, removing his arm from around your shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay…?”

You nod. “I’m okay, really. Go to bed. Don’t stay up late because of me.” you tell him. He should’ve been in bed already… you realize.

Jisung nods. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you, Jisung.”

He seems taken aback by your words. You don’t blame him — no matter what, telling your sibling you love them still feels awkward.

“Love you too.”

He leaves your room. You pick up your bag from where you had placed it when you got to your room and retrieved your camera. You collect all the photos you had taken. The one of Jisung in the kitchen, him talking to Mark, Mark and his ice cream, everyone outside of the ice cream parlor, him outside of the restaurant, him playing his guitar, and finally, the photo Hyuck had taken of you. You shove them in your pocket, praying that they would return to the correct universe with you.

You lay down on your bed, completely exhausted. You just want to fall asleep, but you know you can’t. You pull out your phone, going to your messages and clicking on Hyuck’s name.

You

let me know when you’re ready.

33 notes · View notes

taytayize123 · 4 years ago

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How one night can change your whole life ✨

THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR MGK. So please I ask you fans and mutuals who love him to be kind. I hope you like it. 🙊💞

It had been a fucking shit year and a half for me given, going through health issues, doctors and nurses that truly didn’t give a shit about how you felt about treatment where they’d just throw endless amounts of pills at you when you clearly tell them that you’ve done your research and other people have achieved remission through eating healthy, working out, and keeping anxiety low yet of course they don’t actually care how you feel. You are just there for them to get a buck out of you and keep the chain going. That whole experience had put me into two depressive meltdowns and to seek professional help by gaining a therapist. When I started therapy I began to realize how much resentment I held in about family members and past friends who’ve treated me like shit and i’m done being walked all over. A strained relationship with my mother. A barely existing relationship with my sister. The only person who seems to take interest in hearing me without having overly dramatic reactions is my dad yet, having a sit down conversation with him is hard so often I got left on my own. My solace in life is music and lately it had been one man that I kept going back to when I was feeling defenseless, stressed, not good enough etc. That was Machine Gun Kelly aka Colson Baker I had really taken a liking to Hotel Diablo about a year ago, something about him had intrigued me so much that I needed to hear every song and lyric. While I may have not struggled with poverty or coming from a broken home as he did, I related to his inability to express emotions the way he needed to be okay in life so he then found an outlet to channel all that rage, anger, sadness, sacredness etc into something that was not only powerful but got him out of that life of struggle, yet it also created new issues for him like finding out who his real friends are in life. Anyways, when he rapped or sang it made me say to myself; “Peyton you are gonna be okay.” an actually believing that for the first time in awhile.

While, vibing hard to Kells listening to every album as well as learning all the lyrics by heart. Started to develop favorites of his, my attitude started changing as I dove deeper into his music and overall personality. I began to appreciate how he simply didn’t care if he pissed off people as he was being his true self in the process I began to have the confidence in myself to put up or shut up and really stop letting those around me walk all over me and tell them no when they ask me to do something for them knowing they aren’t ever gonna return the favor or assuming I should do something for them just cause I’m family that’s bullshit. Within, this new feeling that i was experience maybe a little good karma came my way because I had gotten a ticket to his latest tour. It was fate or destiny I swear to god because he sold out in my town in ten minutes flat. It felt like I was rewarding myself for really working on my self but also the angels above putting something positive in my life for the first time in a long time and I was so thankful!

The day was here, October 13th came fast and I was so excited that I was getting this opportunity to see him live and I am stoked. Now, given that my mother asked me to use my car that day, I ended up telling her she could take it but to drop me off early at the venue and I would just chill all day before the concert. It wasn’t an issue, the venue had a hotel on the premise as well as a restaurant, bar, cute outdoor beer gardens and wooden areas to explore. I had chosen to go to the bar and order some lunch and sit up at the bar and read for awhile.

“Hi, yes could I order the cheese burger with tots please.” I ask nicely to the bartender. She pressed the buttons on the order device and smiled back at me. “Of course. Your order should be up in a minute hun.” she said in a pleasant tone and walked off. I had put my purse up on the counter and dug out my book which happened to be a book about Jimi Hendrix and his life. I’ve always been drawn to musical types I guess, my want for caring for those who struggle and need support somehow has always been attached to people I find interesting. “Here you go love,” the bartender places down my order and my drink as I thank her nicely and turn my page popping a tot into my mouth getting lost in the words yet it stops when I hear

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

I don’t even look up from my book, and nod happily. As I pick up my drink to take a sip I look up and see him. Machine Gun Kelly sitting next to me. My heart started beating a thousand times a minute but my brain tells my body to PLAY IT COOL. As I smile at him he smiles back, Hi. I’m Colson, what’s your name? and what are you reading?” he asks me peeking at my book. “It’s a book about Jimi Hendrix. I am really big into music and just find people who do something in the music field interesting plus he was one of the best guitarists in the world. I’m Peyton nice to meet you.” I say, slowly swallowing still trying to keep my voice even yet on the inside I was FREAKING OUT rightfully so I think. He grins at me as his order arrives, “Yeah, he was an inspiration to me to start playing guitar.” he says picking up his burger and taking a bit. He puts it back down. Noticing a bit of ketchup on his chin I let out a little giggle as I hand him a napkin. He lets out a boastful laugh, “Oh thanks hun, damn where are my manners eating like a savage in front of a pretty girl like yourself.” I look down at the floor. “Nah, I’m not pretty I’m sure you’ve met prettier girls than me.” I say, my happy upbeat tone dropping to one of unsure and self doubt. Still looking at the floor, as I feel fingertips on my chin. He brings my face up to look at his. “Peyton, you are pretty, even beautiful there’s something so real and authentic in your eyes and that is true beauty.” he spoke with such a low but meaningful expression. Staring into those kind blue eyes of his as he is looking back at mine an explosion of a unnameable feeling is spread throughout my whole body. I let out a shy giggle even letting out a short snort, which I snapped back to reality I groaned putting my face in my hands. Colson lets out another sweet chuckle, as he pulls my hands away from my face now holding them in his. “Stop it Peyton, that what you just did was adorable. I have to ask you, will you come back to our backstage area so we can keep talking. There is this pull to you and I can’t figure it out but I need to know more about you. Please.” He spoke with such a gentle tone as his eyes pleaded with mine looking for any hint of a positive answer. I smiled, “Of course, I’ll go with you Colson. Let me pay and we can go.” I said, fishing in my purse for my wallet as I took it out. He already handled the bartender his black amex card and she had cleared the purchase. I stand up in my wedged heels bringing my short 5′3 ass to maybe 5′6, still only coming up to his mid chest looking up at him. “Colson you didn’t have to do that.” I whined, once again Colson cracks another grin looking down at me. “You’re just so adorable. Good thing I don’t mind a bit of whining you’ll learn when to or not.” he smirks at me as he cracks a dirty joke making me laugh again. We turn to leave the restaurant, his hand intertwined with mine. His hands are strong, calloused; years of playing guitar and holding a microphone for hours on end. Fingers wrapping into mine. His other hand firmly placed on the small of my back guiding me which way to go. I thought to myself, as I walked with him; “Whatever will be tonight will be and live life to the fullest.” as the lyrics from his song 27 floored my brain.

“ Yeah, forever young, though, haha Always be those crazy kids running wide-eyed down the boulevard, huh 27.” 💞

#mgk fic #my first time writing him so please be kind! 🙈#I can’t believe I am posting this but I can’t get this story out of my head 🙈💕

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 3 years ago

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Ive never really understood the hype surrounding Taylor Swift - I mean, I like some of her songs, but im not big on modern pop music so generally she just doesn’t really click for me. But I find it interesting that theres quite a few of Beatles/Swift blogs - like, they should have very little in common given that they’re from completely different eras and all, but somehow people seem to find a lot of semblance between the two. << and thats not me shitting on any of these blogs btw! Hope I don’t come off as rude or condescending there <3

Anyway, I was just wondering what got you into Taylor Swift? (I think ive read your post on how you got into the Beatles)

Hi, anon! Don't worry, I don't think you're rude or condescending! I agree they don't have too much in common and I don't really like their music for the same reasons.* I do have a playlist of Paul songs that have similar vibes to Taylor songs but it's mostly lyric-based. (Also the Beatles For Sale songs actually have quite the Taylor-tinge because Paul and John were not immune to Country Music)

I saw @stewy say once that a possible reason there are a good handful of us Swiftie-Beatle People on here is the appeal of a vast discography, which I agree with. If you have an artist/group with 200ish songs, it's just really fun to really dive into their work and explore all the facets. I also think: we're talking about the most popular band of all time and one of the highest-selling artists of the 21st century. They have a lot of fans so there's bound to be overlap, regardless of musical differences.

Moving on to your question: Getting into Taylor was an extremely personal experience for me and so my explanation is probably going to be kind of long so I'll put it under a read more.

It was spring-summer 2014, I was 15. I had heard the more popular songs of hers starting with Love Story and enjoyed pretty much all of them (I always found her hopelessly romantic point of view fascinating) but before I got a Spotify account in 2013 it was difficult in general for me to really get into an artists' entire discography so most of her songs had flown under my radar.

At the time, I was in this very weird sort of codependent online friendship with this girl who was basically my first real best friend and my first more or less crush. She was very depressed and I was very much in an I Could Fix Her™ mood, except that I obviously couldn't fix her and it made me feel like I wasn't enough and she had begun pulling more and more away from me and not replying to my messages and it was simply driving me insane. I consider it the saddest period in my life.

at some point during this period, I started trying to connect with other people (all online, I didn't know how to talk seriously to anyone IRL) and explaining the issues I'd been having, and one of the people who brought me joy and whom I actually felt not drained talking to was a huge swiftie. And IDK the fact that she loved Taylor and the fact that talking to her made my life better (and also the fact that I liked all the Taylor songs I knew at that point) just made me decide to give her a listen. And I think that whole "large discography discovery" phenomenon really helped me at the time (funny, because her discography has doubled since then). It gave me something new to focus on; there were just so many songs to discover, all telling such rich stories. I also have always loved bridges, they are almost always my favourite part of a song. And Taylor, god-bless her, loves them too and always puts her ALL in them. Like pretty much every bridge of hers brings the song to the next level, and even a lot of her songs I don't adore tend to have great bridges (Stay Stay Stay and Paper Rings come to mind). I think one of her most underrated qualities is how good she is at song structure and really building up an entire musical journey with a song. She also almost always adds cool ad-libs in her second and third choruses to keep the songs interesting and dynamic (or at least since she's gone pop). Anyways, back to the story: Then Taylor announced 1989 as her next album and released Shake It Off, and it was just like this great happy thing for me to look forward to, when I had very little keeping me going. The era was promoting a lot of happiness which in hindsight was slightly fabricated and it was just a really great thing for me to latch onto.

At the same time I was coming to realize that I was gonna have to pull away completely from my friend and all those break-up songs just… Hit, y'know? Like, some people seem to think Taylor's a one-trick pony because she likes to write break-up songs but to me, break-ups are just like this moment where you as a human can potentially feel every single emotion, and Taylor's songs have covered every facet of the concept. Here are some songs I remember from that period, that all meant a lot to me at the time because they explained my own pain to me so well:

Haunted, for the absolute terror you feel in the first moments you realize someone is probably gonna leave you. Come on, come on / Don't leave me like this / I thought I had you figured out / Something's gone terribly wrong / You're all I wanted.

I Almost Do, for the inner turmoil you feel when you know you have to stay away from someone for your own good but you really, really have to resist just running back to that person. We've made quite a mess, Babe / It's probably better off this way / And I confess, Babe / In my dreams you're touching my face / And asking me if I wanna try again / With you / And I almost do.

Last Kiss, for that absolute sadness that comes simply with remembering everything that was good and not comprehending how it could've possibly ended. I still remember / The look on your face / Lit through the darkness / At 1:58 / Words that you whispered / For just us to know / You told me you loved me / So why did you go / Away?

Forever and Always, for that feeling of desperately wanting to hold on to what you still have but at the same time realizing it probably isn't going to last and having no idea how to fix it, plus feeling like the other person doesn't even care. So here's to everything / Coming down to nothing / Here's to silence / That cuts me to the core / Where is this going? / Thought I knew for a minute / But I don't anymore.

Dear John, my all-time favourite song, for that moment you find clarity and realize that you deserved better and that you were headed in an extremely dark direction because of this other person. [DISCLAIMER: my friend did NOT abuse me nor did we have some inappropriate age difference. But the way she would ignore me and her general moodiness really affected my own mental health and self-worth problems] You paint me a blue sky / And go back and turn it to rain / And I lived in your chess games / But you changed the rules every day / Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone / Tonight / Well I stopped picking up / And this song is to let you know why.

(She's covered more aspects of break-ups in other songs [cheating, divorce, feeling awkward around your ex amongst others], these are just the ones I remember being really important to me when I was first getting into her)

She really helped me feel a lot less alone during one of my loneliest periods and I really can't thank her enough for that. Soon after this, I started crushing on a girl in my class and Taylor's love songs started to take on a new meaning for me as well.

What's crazy to me is, when she went on hiatus for a few years, a part of me thought maybe I'd grown out of her and no longer had much in common with her, but when reputation came out I was pulled right back into my love for her as a person and musician and then when Lover came out I found that she was still explaining feelings to me better than I ever could (specifically with the songs The Archer and Cornelia Street). And now with folklore and evermore she's simply absolutely perfected her story-telling and I find myself deeply moved even by the songs I don't directly relate to. I feel like she has this amazing ability to find the absolute truth in the specific. I've never had a summer romance with someone who already had a girlfriend and mostly wanted to go back to her, and yet the bridge of august feels so real to me, y'know?

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose

It's hard to explain but looking at this, like it's so much more than the story it's telling. It's talking about how when you're young you really need so little to feel satisfied; how sometimes the idea of someone maybe spending time with you is better than actually doing things with other people; and how if someone using you without much thought can make you feel like you're not even entitled to grieve what you lost. Sorry. I'll stop. Don't want to go insane.

So, all of this is very personal and unique to me, but I think really the main thing that draws me to her is how vulnerable and honest she is about emotions, how eloquently she can explain the pain of being alive to me. Some people think she isn't the strongest singer, but I think, much like John actually, one of her greatest assets is how good she is at projecting emotion. The song happiness is a song I think has some lyrically weak moments but her vocal performance on it is so raw and devastating that every single line works even when, looking at it on paper, it feels like it shouldn't.

Hope this rambling made sense to you, lmao?? I love talking about Taylor though so thanks for the ask! Also very open to giving song recs if you do want to check her out more but I won't unless solicited to lmao *Sort of off-topic but I do think there's a relation between my fascination with the Beatles' history and my love for a great break-up song. I like pain I guess :)

#ask #anon #taylor #mine

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years ago

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Hard Waves At Dawn

A random snapshot with the reader from You Send Me and Freddie. Blame me listening to the album Goths by The Mountain Goats for the first time tonight for this one. I try and save certain albums until the right moment, and it seems this was the right one for it. Listen to it, in order, to get the vibe of this fic. Title comes from the song on there titled ‘Wear Black.’

Ngl, very deep in my own mind and thoughts of the future as I wrote this. It probably shows, but that’s par the course for my writing now I fear lol.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I won’t make you come home.”

The rain poured, and you jumped at the loudness of the thunder. “You shouldn’t have to.”

Freddie shrugged, and scooted closer to you on the stone bench. The park was empty except for the two of you; everyone else had run home as soon as the rain had started to come down fast enough to hurt.

“That’s it?”

He nodded. “I know that, and you know it. What more is there to say about it?”

“Maybe not more to say about that,” you replied. “But what about everything else?”

You let his arm slip around you and pull you close. “I think you need to talk about that. Or you wouldn’t have gone running out here before I was even awake.”

You had left the flat you shared with Freddie at five in the morning, in a daze. You weren’t sure exactly what had set it off this time, and it was an impulse you usually ignored or were able to repress. The one that made you panic for the future, left you pacing the flat over things that were arguably not worth worrying about as much as you did, made you feel like taking night walks that never ended, not caring where you might end up or if you’d make your way back home again.

You were in clothes that normally never left the house, clothes that were Lounge About the House and Do Nothing category. You didn’t look wildly out of place to anyone else, but you knew it was a sign to Freddie.

He didn’t indulge these moments, exactly. He accepted them, and rode them out with you, and occasionally gave advice or distractions if you requested or seemed to need it. But most of the time, it was this. Finally prompting that vat of nonsense and fear and pain and sadness that had settled into some sort of aching black hole in your chest before you could recall knowing what depression even was, to spill.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered, and he chuckled.

“Good start.”

“It is though,” you protested. “This is what I’ve wanted. Stability. I’ve worked towards it since I was like...fourteen. And never had it, never had it, couldn’t reach it, wasn’t qualified for it, couldn’t afford it, all that. And now here it is, and it’s fine, and my dumb fucking head is still like this.”

He didn’t speak, but took your hand in his, rubbing gently at it with his thumb.

“What am I waiting for? Why do I feel like the other shoe is going to drop? The shoes are on and tied and I’m waiting to trip. And for what? Why? Why can’t I just be happy all the time? It isn’t always like this, it recedes like the tide but when it comes back I-”

The rain washes the tears off your face as fast as they can fall.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Freddie asked. “I think a lot of us are doing that, in one way or another.”

“But it’s like I’m doubting this good thing I have, from you to my job to everything-”

“Not on purpose,” he interrupted. “The mind clicks along, and doubt is a track it falls on from time to time. I know you don’t seriously doubt us, or your job with the band. Do you know how I know that?”

You shook your head.

“Because you don’t leap for things that feel like too big of a risk unless you see enough security available in the thing you’re leaping towards. You would never have so much as kept looking my way, or stayed on with us, if you didn’t feel secure despite any little doubts or fears that any rational person might have from time to time.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he shushed you softly.

“Y/N. You turned down an ice cream yesterday because you were afraid it might have something you were allergic to in it. We had a full list of ingredients, but because the shop couldn’t verify how current it was, you left without anything. If you can turn away from something that simple, don’t you think you would have been long gone by now, if you had true doubts about anything else in your life right now?”

“...you make a good point,” you acknowledged.

“Every now and again,” he smiled, the small shy smile that came around only when he was being vulnerable. He looked even more gorgeous than usual when he wore it. “And you know what?”

“You have doubts too?”

“All the fucking time,” he sighed. “The work on the next album alone! You’ve heard me, hell you’ve worked me through some of those fits-”

“Not fits, exactly,” you interrupted.

“Tantrums?” he asked with a grin.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you said with a smile. “Or I’ll have to kiss you and replace them with something else.”

He kissed you anyway, and the scent of his usual cologne mixed with the rain smelled like the home you had always wanted, dreamed of, yearned for, worked so damn hard to get that you couldn’t believe you’d let your mind trap you into any worries about it.

You leaned into his embrace, wincing only a little as the rain somehow fell harder. “I’m sorry I left without leaving a note or anything. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Out of everyone,” Freddie said. “You are one of the few people I don’t worry about leaving me out of the blue. And I could tell last night you were feeling a bit...how to put it? Twitchy isn’t the right word-”

“Like there was an itch in my brain I couldn’t scratch,” you filled in.

“Exactly,” Freddie said, pushing his wet hair away from where it just barely touched his forehead. “Were we due for a storm?”

“Maybe,” you replied. “I certainly was, apparently.”

“It had been a couple of months,” Freddie nodded.

“God, you’ve got my depression cycle mapped. We’re domestic,” you laughed. “I love it, though I don’t love that I have something like that you have to keep track of.”

“Don’t have to keep track of it,” he said. “I do it because I want to make sure you’ve got support whenever it hits. How long did you deal with it alone, or with minimal support? You’ve got me, and the boys, and so many others now. It would be more than a shame, it would be a crime, to care about you and not be mindful of this.”

He held a hand up before you could speak. “And before you go on with that ‘but I can’t expect others to take care of me all the time’ talk, I know. That’s not our goal, and I think you know that. But I also think you’re afraid of it sometimes, because you’ve not had anything like it before. Support, not to hold you up 24/7, but to help carry you when you need it, and you do the same in return. Equal give and take.”

You nodded. “You are an exceptionally wise man, you know that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I try, same as anyone else.”

“You underestimate yourself with things like this,” you said. “You don’t do it with anything else. The rest of the persona the confidence flows, but you sell yourself short here. You shouldn’t.”

“You do the same thing,” he said with a smirk. “Can’t argue that anymore than I can, can you?”

“No wonder we get on so well,” you said. “Perfectly capable until we’re vulnerable in the rain, and then it all melts away.”

He nods. “It’s nice though, isn’t it? To have someone to let the mask down around so severely. No need to hang onto it, in case someone walks in the room that would make you bring it back up.”

“It really is,” you sighed. “I think it’s hailing a bit.”

He brushed a hand through his dampened curls, and melting pea-sized pebbles of ice shook out. “It is definitely hailing.”

“We should almost definitely go home,” you murmured. “I haven’t seen any lightening, but probably not safe all the same.”

“You can’t tell me that you’ve never wanted to be out in a storm like this, in one of these moments of yours,” Freddie said. “Why not give it five more minutes?”

“And if lightening shows up, and hits us?”

“Then I hope they leave the burned outline of our corpses here on this bench as a memorial,” Freddie said with a cheeky grin.

“Me too,” you said. “I wouldn’t mind a death and a memorial like that.”

“Better than some, and certainly as good as some others,” Freddie nodded. “You know you’re going to be fighting a cold off after this, right?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “You’ve already bought me cans of my favorite soup, haven’t you?”

“Two days ago, had Brian pick them up and bring them by,” Freddie replied. “He asked how I could possibly know.”

“And you told him not to worry about it, and that he’d get it some day?”

“Bless, you’ve got my most cryptic answers down to a T,” he said. “That was exactly it. Bet you can’t guess the rest of my master plan though.”

��To make me soup for the next three days, and keep me sat resting on the couch, except for when we’re napping together in the bed?”

“Almost all of it,” he said. “You missed the bit where I make sure we get a walk outside in. The sun will help, and I know you won’t go out without me.”

“Thank you,” you said, jumping at an even louder clap of thunder. “There has got to be lightening nearby.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “And for what? The soup? That was nothing, really.”

“All of this,” you said, pressing your face into the wet material of his jacket near his neck. “Taking care of me. Being with me. Loving me despite this stupid shit my brain does, that I can’t always rein in as well as I’d like.”

“It’s good work,” he said. “Work I like. Because you do the same work for me. It’s steady, and it all evens out, even when everything else is...decidedly less so.”

“The ebb and flow of the tide, and the two of us as the typhoon,” you murmured.

“You should do something with that,” he said. “I like it.”

“You know I don’t write like that anymore.”

“But you could. Write it down when we get home, just in case. You never know what you’ll find to do on the side in between tours, after all,” he said, and stood slowly, only to duck down as larger hail started to drop hard and fast, as if someone in the sky had overturned a huge bucket of it. “Shall we go now, before you forget it?”

“I think better we leave so we don’t end up with bruises,” you laughed, taking his hand as you stood. “I’m ready to go home.”

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury x male reader

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closer-stars · 4 years ago

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Purple Skies, Pained Things

Member: Jongho Word Count: ~5k Requested: No Genre: Angst. A lot of Heavy things. A little hope in the end. Content: Allusions to depression, suicide ideation, low self worth, a bit of existentialism. This really is just a product of my own thoughts and dips. This kind of came to me while i was listening to christian yu’s album and his ig live that explained his creative process and decisions into making MITO. In a sense this is my mito? lol. I don’t know why I had Jongho in this too but it happened. I kind of compared my struggle with mental health to paintings and skies, colors and the like. So Yes. If this is a little weird, I apologize. It was a little tricky to write this since I had to be in a certain mood/headspace to write this. lol. Note: This is heavy. If you can’t stomach something regarding mental struggles, issues, I suggest you don’t read this. This went in directions I didn’t think it would go but it went where it went. Like Strength, I won’t put the atzff tags on this since this is a personal piece lmao. I won’t do my usual tag list on this since..well it’s personal? if you see it when it’s up, cool. if you don’t well.. you don’t lol. Gut Feeling and other reqs are in the works! Just gonna take Time. Jongho wonders how you manage on your own. Well he knows you’re independent, always treasuring your alone time whenever you can. But he’s not sure of how you manage when you have these dips. He’s actually not sure if that’s the right question, should he ask why instead? Why do you make yourself go through it on your own? Of course, he has his guesses regarding the reasons but it still runs in his mind.

He watches you from across the room, sitting near a corner. To anyone else, it would look like you were just watching the skyline; watching the sky turn from a bright blue to a myriad of colors before settling into a deep blue sprinkled with stars and bright lights. The sky was always pretty at this hour.

The complete opposite of your mind.

The two of you knew better when you looked like that; you weren’t looking at anything. Your eyes aren’t focused on anything but your mind is. Your mind focuses on thoughts that make you spiral down. When your head spirals, you close yourself from everyone. Your mind is like the night sky: it can bring comfort and solace in a time of quiet but it is also dark and vast, seemingly never ending. The night sky can also bring the terrors of the unknown, the unseen, the lack of control that the day brings. Your mind now is just that without the comfort the night brings, but the numbing fear of what’s beyond.

You feel like a tiny speck of dust. that doesn’t really have much use in a world that keeps moving. Maybe a better comparison would be something like a stormy sky; filled with heavy clouds that would spill forth heavy rain showers. The sudden sheets of water makes everyone hide away. Or rather, a sky tinged with the smoke from pollution; unbearable and frustrating. Just like what you’re doing right now, hiding away from everyone because you think that these days you have will bring nothing but frustration to those near you.

So, what is Jongho doing in your apartment? He had his reasons. For starters, it’s been radio silence from your end. He knows nothing of what has happened to you. Neither do your friends-- well to a degree, they don’t. It’s why he’s here, to check on you. He figured you’d be at home. He knows you well enough, just like how he can tell if the weather will be fine just by a glance at the sky. From what he’s seeing, it’s the calm before the storm.

He knows you don’t sleep much either, or rather, you stay up late into the night only to sleep when the sun’s peeking through the horizon. The deep blues slowly turning into a soft lilacs and blues streaked with bright yellows that bring the safety of a new day: a peaceful slumber. You told him in the past that you’re really just a night owl, a habit formed to cope with the hectic pace of life. A way for you to have some sort of grip on your life. He bought the words for a while, but the more he spends time with you. He’s not quite sure. He doesn’t understand why you shut yourself out from everyone when you need them the most. He does understand how hard it can be to ask for help. Carefully, he approaches your unmoving figure.

“Hey.” He murmurs, settling quietly in front of you. Your eyes flutter to his direction. You see him but the fact he’s sitting in front of you isn’t registering in your head. Maybe your mind’s playing tricks on you, your vivid imagination was always one of your assets. It could also be your downfall.

“Go away..” your voice comes out like a sigh. Just as your mind is like the sky, your mind is just as vivid as paintings of years past. But, just like those paintings, it fades, it gets discolored as time passes by. Small cracks appear on layers of painting, no matter how much protection and preservation you put it through: the wear and tear can and will be inevitable. You assume this is just another way for your mind to make you think worse of yourself. Thoughts reflecting itself onto reality. Whatever reality is supposed to be. With that, you look away from the figure in front of you, staring out the window. The sky has shifted into a deep purple, the lights from the neighboring buildings are flickering on, one by one. The purples gradually turning into artificial shades of yellow and white.

He should’ve expected that, being alone with your own thoughts can get tiring. Even if you preferred your own company, these dips can take a toll on you. Slowly, he takes your hand in his. Something flashes in your eyes, dimmed only by the darkening sky above the two of you. “What are you doing here?” You ask. He notices how dry your voice sounds. How long has it been since you drank water?

He has a feeling rain will come tonight.

The sound of consciousness from you makes him quirk the corner of his lips in relief. “I wanted to check on you.”

A sigh slips out of your lips, your eyes fluttering to a close. Your eyes feel dry. You don’t pull away your hand from his hold. You stay like that, unmoving in your spot, and for a moment you look peaceful, but the impending approach of a storm is warned through the marks under your eyes. Jongho wonders how you’ve been sleeping the past few days. He looks at the time. By now, you should be eating.

“Hey, you need to get some food in you.” Jongho gently reminds you, his voice mirrored by how he squeezes your hand to wake you up.

“I don’t have an appetite…” You reason, despite your excuse you slowly move from your spot.

“At least get something in your stomach? Even some fruits will do.” Jongho returns. “Come, I can make you some food.” He lets you settle down on the chair. You let him move around your place, he’s been here so many times that he might as well have lived with you.

“Have you eaten?” You speak up softly, watching him with heavy eyes. This really doesn’t surprise him anymore, how you’re able to put others before you, even when you can barely do so for yourself.

It takes a while for him to reply to the question. If he gives a clear cut answer, it can make your attention shift to him when the main subject here is you. He runs a few strawberries and an orange through water. “I’ll eat with you.” He returns after a moment of thought.

You shrug even if he can’t see you do so. “Help yourself to whatever I have I guess.” So that’s how the night goes, he eats a meal while you nibble on a few fruit slices that he had freely drizzled with honey. It was quiet as the two of you ate. He doesn’t push you to talk about what’s on your mind, not because he didn’t care but he knows you hate it when people push you to tell them your thoughts, no matter how depressing they can get, you hated being forced. Even if you don’t want him to be here, you have no energy to tell him to leave.

You prod a half eaten strawberry with your fork. Even in the mess of your mind, you wanted to know why he’s doing this. He’s seeing a side of you that you’ve tried so hard to hide from him. As much as you want to cover this from him, it seems too late. Your body can’t get itself to stand up and push him out. What happens instead is a question. “Why are you doing this? You can literally do anything else right now, but you’re here wasting time.”

Jongho stays quiet through your tirade of self deprecating comments. On your normal days, these were covered with your dry humor. You always had a knack at being able to throw a few witty comments at the boys and at yourself. Now, he’s seeing it in its rawest form. He doesn’t like how this is how you see yourself: a shame, wasted potential, lost, the list goes on as you talk. What was once a question becomes an exhausted rant of how you find yourself in this fast paced life. At one point, you ask yourself if the choices you made were the right ones. All your decisions have been based on trying to break out of the chains of expectations. You wanted freedom, to explore the world as yourself.

Now, you didn’t really have a proper avenue to release these thoughts nowadays; you can’t really go out. Your usual coping mechanisms aren’t an option now. You’re just stuck at home. Compared to your peers, they’re able to make the most out of the situation. Those who made your life horrible are prospering now. Those who followed what was expected of them are doing well. You? Hell if you know what to make of yourself now.

He would’ve rebutted all these points you’ve raised but he figures that you need to let them out before letting anyone or yourself fix the issues. You’ve always been like that, thinking out loud until you somehow manage to find a solution. That’s why he just listens, replying when needed but letting you know that he’s giving you his full attention. What he didn't expect was a rumbling thunder.

The storm comes earlier than expected. The two of you can hear the downpour outside your apartment. When you notice the heavy downpour, you shift the topic. “You really don’t need to listen to all of that.” You say as you eat your fruits. It’s a little tricky to try and put your upbeat voice back to use after days of being shut in.

Being able to air out your frustrations should make you feel lighter, but it doesn’t. What it just does to you is feel heavier, fearing that he’ll look at you in a not so nice light because of how different you are now.

That’s how it usually goes.

His meal is long done now but he stays in his seat. “It’s okay.” He says. Those two words make you look at him. “You’ve carried it for so long to yourself. I don’t mind helping you...” He continues. He notices how your eyes sparkle a little brighter under the warm lights in your home. It’s not the curious sparkle that the stars bring on a clear night. It’s a sparkle that carries the burden of a pain that’s been carried for years. A star that’s just near the edge of falling through the sky. Your coping mechanisms were really just there to numb the pain, never to address it, you never knew how to address it until recently. Even then, the process was painful. “Have you showered?” He asks you. At his question, you realize you haven’t. “Go shower? I can take care of these dishes.”

There’s something in his words that pushes you to say something. “Can you stay a little longer?” You’re scared of what could be next, him leaving you alone in your thoughts again. You’ve tried to hide your dips from him, but now that he’s seen it, you doubt there’s any turning back now. You just don’t want to be alone, for tonight at least.

“I’ll stay.”

You ease yourself against the downpour of the hot water. It’s a little shock for your body: the cool air outside the shower against the hot water on your skin. Eventually you relax into it, breathing slowly as you hope that the water washes away the thoughts in your head. The constant sound of water hitting the tiled floor and the sight of water running down your body or dripping down the walls numb your mind from dimming your thoughts. The feeling puts you in a trance of sorts, standing under the shower head unmoving for who knows how long.

“Hey, are you still there?” Jongho’s voice comes from the opposite side of the door. The knocking snaps you awake and you clear your voice, grabbing the soap.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” You swear it’s not a lie. You try to make it sound not like a lie despite your racing heart. You stand there as you wash yourself up quickly. You didn’t want him to worry about you. Do you really deserve these worries? Clearly, he has other things to worry about. Why did you ask him to stay longer? He has a life beyond you, so why linger here? What if you’re just hindering him from his schedule and free time with your selfish need for company? These thoughts rise up to the surface as you dry yourself up. He can leave if he has to, you’re not gonna stop him.

You step out of your bathroom in a change of clothes, water dripping from your hair onto the towel on your shoulders. You catch your reflection on the mirror; you’ve lost weight, you look tired, your skin hasn’t been at its best, and before your thoughts spiral you tear your gaze away from the reflective reality on your wall.

The place is quiet. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, of course you’re back on your own. What were you thinking? You’ve managed to deal with these episodes on your own, what makes this any different? What were you hoping for exactly?

“Oh hey, you’re finally out of the shower.” His voice makes you jump in your spot, holding yourself up against the wall as you try to slow down your racing heart. He observes your shocked visage with slight guilt. He notes how raw your skin looks, wondering just how hot you made your water to be. It’s not much but it’s something. These episodes were never as quick as a simple shower. It’ll take time and he’s willing to sit through it with you. Just like the paintings on your walls, those took time to be properly cared for, before its original luster shined through.

“If you have to go elsewhere, it’s okay.” You speak up, your voice is a little clearer now. “I forgot how busy you get…” You trail off, berating yourself for being so selfish.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He says afterwards. “I made sure my schedule was free.” He adds, he approaches you carefully, taking the towel off your shoulders. He lets you follow him to the couch.

You look at him, shoulders dropping as more things blur your mind. Why was he doing this? “Why?” There’s something in your voice that reminds him he can’t leave you like this. You follow him like a lost puppy, too tired to think anymore. The sky looks a lot dimmer now, the still constant downpour of rain dimming the bright lights from the streets.

“I want to check on you.” He sits behind you, drying your hair as he lets you look out the sky. It’s the one thing you would do even in your better days. He’s gotten the habit of thinking of you because of the sky.

It’s the blank look on your face that hurts him too. It’s a look that tries to survive and prove itself worthy of independence. It’s a look that reminds him of artworks that look so breathtaking until you learn of the backstory behind the work. How many people have bought this as you just shooting a deadpan look, as if you didn’t need anyone else? “I’m sorry.” A tired sigh escapes you as you turn your head away from his gaze. You were about to reach for the towel that has slowed down from drying your hair, when Jongho taps your hands gently.

“Drying your hair’s my thing.” He reminds you, a distant inside joke from years past.

The reference makes you smile a little but it doesn’t bring you the comfort you badly need. The pain teeters just at the corners of your eyes and you wonder why your vision blurs, mixing the purples with the yellows, with the whites. The greys have hints of purples and yellows. Everything looked so blurry yet so clear. It’s an unflattering color, it’s rare that you look away from the sky.

It’s when you feel two drops of water against your arm that it clicks. You didn’t want him to see you in tears. How easy it was for him to look past your facade. You’ve put up enough walls, saying it was just you being used to being an only child who could only depend on yourself at the end of the day. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve said lies to stop people from getting too close to you at your weakest. How many times has life tried to take advantage of it?

“Come here.” His voice takes on a tenderness rarely heard from him. It takes a few small shifts from you before you face him. You want to tell him that you’re fine, that it’s not a lie. You’re genuinely doing fine, you want to tell yourself that. But the truth is, you aren’t. Admitting the truth has always been nerve wracking for you. Especially the truth that you carry in your head and heart. There, his arms wrap around you carefully, knowing that at any moment you’ll break. “I care about you, that’s why I do this.” He lets you babble words against his shoulder, truthfully, he couldn’t make sense of the words that tumble out of your lips mostly due to the towel that muffles you and because of how they’re all slurred by your overwhelming emotions and tears. He lets you spill everything though. It could help you once you storm through this downpour, he thinks.

On the other hand, you hate how weak you’ve become, your hands grip to him as if he’s some sort of protection from the darkness that swirls in your head. There’s no shade of purple that can mimic how terrifying the darkness is in your head. Not even pictures can give it justice. It just is.

You don’t like how you’ve become, yet you have no heart to end everything. It’s why you had a terrible phobia of high places. Imagination can only bring you so much but reality was still terrifying in its own right. Life was practically in limbo: wanting escape but not doing it, wanting something better but not being able to acquire it. You see your own life like an unfinished painting, all scribbles, patches of paint but never quite forming an image or a sky that always warns of a storm that never comes.

He feels guilty to have left you alone to deal with this burden in the past but he tries not to dwell in it as he lets you cry. “Do you want to go to bed?” He whispers softly into your hair. You shake your head, not trusting how your voice could shake should you speak up. Receiving nothing but a timid nod, he carefully pulls his arms away from your figure, it’s then that he realizes that you covered your face with your towel. The damp feeling on his skin and shirt were from your hair. Even in your current state, you still find shame in showing your own tears.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he guides you towards your bed. Now that the two of you are settled down, he made sure that you’re in his arms again. He tries not to force you to look at him. Being at your weakest in front of someone was already a draining experience in itself, but to be in a situation where it’s not being shamed or pushed away was a new experience for you. He hears words come from your covered face and he keeps quiet to strain his ears to understand what you were saying.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Two words, repeated over and over. He looks at your curled figure, how your arm strains to keep itself from shaking as your fingers press against where your eyes are to stop the tears. This hasn’t been your lowest, but it is one of your lowest moments. He shushes you gently, as if consoling a lost animal shivering under the rain. “I got you. It’s okay.” Admittedly, he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know what else to do except hold you through this. He’ll hold you through the storms and the darkness. Until you come to surface, he’ll hold you through it. No matter how long it takes, he’ll be here.

You wake up with your blanket up to your shoulders. You try to remember what happened yesterday as you lie awake. What time is it? What day is it? Your thick curtains hinder the sunlight from blinding you. When you blink, you feel how dry and sore your eyes are which only further your confusion of what happened yesterday.Your hand pats one side of your bed: your phone isn’t there. You pat the other side: that’s not a phone. That’s a chest, it’s only then that you realize that’s another person next to you that you realize the weight of an arm on your waist. A spark of fear runs through you, unaware of who could be here, so you look over to your side with caution.

Jongho.

He lies asleep next to you. You wonder what he’s doing here but you have no heart to wake this guy up. Everything’s still murky to you. Quite frankly, you don’t really know how much time has passed. All you know now is day and night. Things still feel floaty, like you’re on a cloud but you shouldn’t be there. The thought alone makes your hands clammy. It makes your chest tighten with thoughts you can’t control, that your hands repeatedly clench and unclench as you try to fight to control your head from going under.

A hand slowly laces with yours and you look over at the owner. He’s awake, sleep still weighing down his eyes but he’s awake. “I got you.” He says, voice raspy with slumber that still clings to his mind and it rings you of the previous day’s happening. A shiver of horror goes through you. He shouldn’t have seen you like that. Nobody should’ve seen you like that.

“I thought you would’ve gone home.” You say as you push yourself up from bed, pulling your hand away. You run your hands through your bed riddled hair, a poor excuse to keep him from holding your hands again. It’s not that you don’t like it, it’s just, you’re scared. He’s seen your worst, and you fear for the worst result.

His now free hand rests beneath his bed riddled hair. He’s never been one to push your boundaries. “I don’t think I can go home knowing how you needed someone last night.” He says this without any of his dry nature. “I can’t go home with a peaceful mind until I know you’re alright..” He trails off, because as much as he wants to stay with you for the next few days. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries. You never responded nicely to people who pushed your limits more than they should.

“You didn’t have to..”

“But I wanted to.” He says immediately. Mornings were never his best time either. He looks up at you, no remnants of sleep are on his eyes. Rather, his soft protective nature is there. “We worry for you too. At least, let me care for you the way you’ve cared for me?” He asks. Once he pulls the repayment card, you relent. It’s a small step but it’s a step.

Silence draws over the two of you for a few moments. His words float around your mind. ‘I wanted to… let me care for you…’ It’s an odd feeling to have someone care for you. His words make you wonder if people will worry if you did disappear without a trace.

Jongho reaches for his phone beneath your pillow to check the time. It’s already noon time. “Do you wanna eat? I can make some food for us or we can just order something.”

The power to choose was a heavy responsibility for you. You still weren’t in the mental capacity to choose for yourself but you had enough strength to let Jongho stay for the time being. He notices how you’re still not quite here yet, so he opts to cook something up. He knows your favorites but he can only hope you have enough appetite to eat something.

You peek past your curtains. The sky’s clear now. There’s not a cloud in sight, just a vast expanse of bright blue and sunlight. The streaks of sunlight slip past you and into your room, lighting up the rather dim room. “Why are you doing this? I can survive on my own eventually.” You ask from your side of the bed.

Jongho was already out of bed, making himself look presentable or at least awake. “Yeah eventually, but you don’t have to do this on your own.” He returns. He tries not to look over at you too often when he spouts words like this. You never were the type to look at someone when you say something vulnerable. But he sees how you look from the mirror: looking at your hands, mindlessly scratching at your fingers. “Go freshen up while I make up something to eat.”

You didn’t know how to say it, now with some semblance of control in you as compared to the night before. You just knew how scared you were of wasting yourself away, no matter how tempting it was to press Stop on your own life, it was scary. You were scared he’d leave you too after this. Not everyone has the capacity to care for someone like you, you didn’t even have the resources for professional help. Yet, Jongho’s here in your home. Things didn’t make sense and you weren’t really sure of how to make sense of it all. Will he stay with you through it all?

“I will.” Jongho’s voice cuts through your stormy eyes. They spark a little brighter at his voice, only to darken a little in confusion. He watches you for a moment as the gears in your head work. That’s when you realize you were thinking out loud. “I don’t know what lies ahead of you.” He starts, turning to face you but leaning against the dresser. “I do know that you have what it takes to get through this. It’s going to take a lot of time but you’ll get there.” He flashes a small smile, rare were the times that he’s this raw with you or anyone. “We’ll make do with what we got.” He ends it there before heading to the kitchen.

You slip out of your bed, slightly light headed from the lack of food in your system. Shit, okay maybe you need to get some food in you. You look through your closet for something to wear, noticing the laundry you need to do in the process.

Once you got out of the shower, you’re greeted by the smell of-- were those pancakes? You approach the kitchen, confused but also a little excited to have something in your stomach. You didn’t expect that he’d make your comfort food: pancakes with blueberries. He lets himself indulge as well with some pork belly. Go figure. He even got your cold brew out of the refrigerator with his ever loyal iced americano. “You made all of these?” You ask.

He looks over at you, surprised to have you out of the shower already. In that instance, he takes the chance to look at you closely: the heavy shoulders weren’t as apparent as they were last night, there’s a little spark in your eyes too. “Yeah.” He simply says before returning his attention to the still cooking pancake.

It’s only then that you think of preparing the table as the two of you wait for the food to cook.

You eat slowly and carefully. The splash of flavor reminds you of how hungry you are but you remind yourself to not rush. It’s been so long since you ate properly after all. When he sees you drink your coffee, he feels a little relief. Baby steps. It’s small talk for the rest of the meal, just Jongho filling you in on what he’s been up to: the acting, the performing, the competing. It’s all tiring, but he doesn’t mind. Last night was exhausting for you so you didn’t really mind him carrying the conversation for once.

By the time you ate two pieces of the pancakes, you had a little bit of vigor in you though still muted by the hangover that crying gives you. That’s when you came clean with your own thoughts, though still pessimistic and anxious in its roots, it was a little more coherent than last night. If he looked a little closer into the words you say, you left room for a little hope, a little objectivity. Objectivity, in his eyes, was harder to rebut, to be fought against by the small voice in your head that says otherwise. Still, he listens. He listens to everything that you’ve been keeping to yourself with no judgement. He finds it hard to believe how you’ve been able to keep all these to yourself but at the same time, this is you who he’s talking to.

But you’re sharing the worries now, and that’s what matters. There’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. No malice and pain in it but something else. Something a little softer.

Seeing you like this reassured him. You were at your lowest last night and seeing you slowly crawl out of it gives him relief. He can only do so much to help you, to reassure you, to get you to where you were meant to be in life. It really is just one small step after one small step even after tripping, as long as you take a step afterwards, that’s all that matters.

He glances outside your window, the sky still continues to be bright without a cloud hindering the sunlight. Truthfully, he doesn’t know if the next few days will continue to be on a good note but what matters is now. Just like a painting that has gone through so much damage, it’s still possible to bring it back to its original luster. It will take time and effort from not just one person but it’s possible.

As long as you’re able to walk at your own pace, he’ll be with you.

#my writings #kinda eh but wtv

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piratewithvigor · 4 years ago

Text

Love Break My Heart: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 2059

A/N: A prize story written for @slashscowboyboots that I keep putting off working on until I have massive fruitopia-fueled writing bonanzas when I’m supposed to be going to sleep because I work tomorrow. Enjoy!

I can remember back to the first days we spent in the studios. Cutting demos, the silence punctuated by growling stomachs. We were hungry literally and figuratively. Daily scrapings of cash were what we ate from and some days, sleep was all we could afford for dinner. Working on the first album was much of the same, but not quite as desperate. We had a bit of an advance. Something we could eat off of, but nothing that was keeping us in the lap of luxury. We still all shared a shitty house with a carpet full of burn holes and not a single piece of furniture that didn’t boast an array of stains, dents or scrapes. But we weren’t starving for anything except success.

It’s different now. You didn’t have to look beyond the people occupying the studio to know the energy felt different. Steven was gone, to begin with. He’d struggled along with the rest of us, and now he was gone because he found something that meant more to him than we did. Success got to his mind and gave him the delusions of invincibility I had seen so many of my heroes succumb to. My mind drifted to him sometimes when nothing else was occupying it. Call it a happy place, if you will. It’s simply a corner of my mind I can go to when the reality around me doesn’t live up to my expectations of it.

The other difference is everyone’s attitudes about the albums-in-process. Our collective passions were what created the first, but this? The passion here lay in something besides music. Slash is doped up, hiding behind his curtain as if he thinks we can’t tell. He used to share this passion with Steven and me, but times are different now. Duff’s baby is in the bottle. How his liver hasn’t exploded yet is beyond me. His passion lies somewhere deep within his endless bottles, in drinking them down like he’s trying to find it. Axl? His passion lies in control, in perfection. In a way, it always has, but it’s begun to overpower him and, in turn, the rest of us. His demand for perfection drives everyone to their respective new passions as well. As for myself, I’m no saint. I’ve drank my fair share and I took part in every drug I could get my hands on. But they weren’t my passions. The struggles I went through to kick all of them were in the honour of the one thing who held control over me: the bitchy redhead who’s barking orders at everyone in the studio.

I’m trying to comply with what he’s saying and follow directives. Axl’s in no mood to hear anyone’s ideas but his own. Neither Duff nor Slash seem eager to offer any. Matt and Dizzy look more inclined to lick peanut butter off his ass than to offer constructive criticism. It’s no one’s fault the day is going this way; simply the cycle that’s been constructed during these albums. A single mistake in the morning leads to an outburst, which leads to stress, more mistakes, more anger and fear which leads to shit being taken secretly to cope, then playing gets sloppier, and eventually, something will break. It’s as certain as any law of motion.

I’m not even sure who messed up when Axl pauses us again. I started tuning him out after we did a perfect run-through and he still found problems. As much as I love him, sometimes a tune-out is the only way to cope. It’s the only way I can keep loving him. He’s in the control room, arguing with our producer. I can’t hear his exact words through the soundproofed glass, but I can see his lips moving and his body language isn’t screaming “I’m in a fantastic mood; please approach.”

It takes five or so minutes for our producer to eventually lean into his mic to be heard in the recording booth.

“Iz, Axl thinks you might be flat.”

I purse my lips and make a show of checking my tuning quickly. I’m not flat. Axl knows I know I’m not flat. He’s lashing out because something isn’t living up to his grand vision and he isn’t sure what it is. I’d have heard if someone was flat. He would have too, without having gone through an entire shouting match with the producer to wreck his voice.

Satisfied with my efforts, Axl returns to the booth and we start another take. They’re numbered, for some reason, but we’ve done so many, I don’t know why anyone would bother to keep track. It’s the same for every song. Every song on these twin albums that we thought would be a great idea. No one had anticipated just how much of a pain they would grow to be. A single album takes months. We’ve been at both of them for over a year. Almost a year and a half, by my count. A year and half of my time spent being yelled at by a man who just wishes he could yell at the universe, but instead chooses to whittle it down to who he used to consider his universe.

I’m playing again, but I don’t remember beginning. Everyone is playing, but no one looks like they’re actually here. Mentally, anyway. We’re all in our respective happy places. Axl stops us again and the room heaves a collective mental sigh. The take was as perfect as he’s going to get. For tonight, anyway. Time passes in a different way in the studio. The lack of windows and clocks ensure it. Once the exhaustion sets in, minutes seem like hours, seem like seconds. I know I ate breakfast with Axl this morning, but nothing since. I can easily bet that it’s beyond lunch time.

Once Axl’s back is turned in the control room, I pull my neck strap over my head and place the guitar on one of the stands in the corner, unplugging it in the process. The minute details of imperfection have Axl swamped sufficiently that he doesn’t notice when I leave the recording booth. Nor does he notice that I’ve left the studio.

It’s late evening when I walk outside. Full moon on the rise and everything. For the first time today, my movements aren’t planned. Sure, I’ll eventually have to return to the studio and face Axl’s wrath, but for a few moments, I’m free. It’s yet crowded enough that Axl would be a fool to walk in the streets. Moments like these are when I respect Kiss and everyone who had the same idea as them: when you become famous, your face is no longer your own. It belongs to the public to use as they please. So they created new faces to give to the public and keep the ones they were born with for themselves. Staying out of the spotlight gives me a variation of the same luxury. A fan could identify me if they tried, but a casual viewer never could like how they would be able to with Axl. Being the frontman, everyone knows his face. He’d get swamped the instant he set foot outside the studio. I’m walking with my hands shoved into my jean pockets to keep them a little warmer. It might be Californian May, but it’s still nightfall and growing colder. Not enough that I’m wishing I had something warmer on, but enough that it’s starting to grow unpleasant.

The first time I remember my intentions for leaving the studio is when I reach a cheap diner a few blocks away. The kind that looks like it employs people who spit in your food if you order anything more complicated than a burger and a soda. In short, the perfect place for a hiding musician.

The diner is empty save for a couple of skeevy patrons dotting the bar stools and other booths. A pretty sorry dinner rush, but the food looks edible enough to spend money on. Playing safely gets me a coke and a cheeseburger served in a plastic basket, somehow both looking like the most beautiful things I’d seen all day. Grease is seeping through the parchment paper lining the basket and the coke is a little flat, but it’s quiet. No strings cutting into my fingers while I played the same two minutes of a song over and over, no screaming, no more little bubble of resentment that was building up deep within me. Just soft conversations between patrons. For the first time in almost a year and a half, it’s quiet enough that I can let myself think.

A little scrap of paper’s been metaphorically burning a hole in my pocket since we began writing for the album, but I never knew what to add to it. My original idea was to write a love song for Axl, but the frustration of having nothing to say only got me more depressed. I hadn’t even tried to put anything down since I got clean.

I uncap a pen and begin to write. Nothing in particular, just a few words that could maybe be something some day. I eventually finish the cheeseburger and start dedicating my brain power to scribbling while I sip on my flat coke. The chorus is starting to come together and the verses are well on their way when someone slides into my booth across from me. I know without looking up. A pair of aviators join my field of vision of the table, but I’m not giving Axl the satisfaction of acknowledging him yet. It’s what he wants; to have the proof that I know I wronged him. So I keep at the task at hand. If he’s able to read my handwriting upside-down, he’s not saying so. Just sitting as uncaring as I am. As soon as I leave the diner, shit is going to fly. If I’m lucky, my nose will stay intact, but I’ve never been known to be that lucky before. All I do know is that the longer I sit here, the worse I’m going to have it. It’s the little quirks like that that you pick up on after 14 years with someone.

The final verse closes up under my hand as I awkwardly slurp up the last few drops of coke hidden under semi-melted ice cubes. I fold up the scrap of paper and put it back into my pocket as I get up, leaving most of my spare change on the table as a tip. I still haven’t looked Axl in the eye, but I can tell he’s been staring me down ever since he entered. When I push open the door to exit, he follows, no more than an arm’s reach away.

The first time he touches me is when we pass an alley and he grabs my by the collar to pull me in. The jolt is strong enough to startle me, but not strong enough that it hurts. He shoves me so my back is against the grimey alley wall before socking me across the jaw.

“You… Izzy, you…” He looks like he wants to saw something else, but he punches me again instead.

“…you backstabbing son of a bitch!” He figures out what he wants to saw as he swings again, but I’m ready for him this time. Ready enough that I block his arm with mine.

“Cool it, Fireball.”

“Cool it?” He chuckles like he’s in a strange sort of delirium. “You fucking throw me under the bus to deal with those fucking dipshits and you tell me to cool it?”

“I didn’t throw you under any bus you weren’t already swan-diving towards,” I counter, keeping a firm grasp on his wrist. I’ve both thrown and received my share of punches, but it doesn’t mean I’m fixing to get any more. Especially from Axl.

“You’re as bad as they are! Are you all fucking trying to mess up and delay the albums?” He’s struggling against my grasp enough that I let go. Right now, he’s not planning on hitting me anymore. Just yell a little bit and maybe pace some before the steam will be all out. We’ll kiss and we’ll go home together and we’ll call it love when deep down, we know it’s anything but.

#Writing #Love Break My Heart #GNR #Classic Rock #Axl Rose #Izzy Stradlin #Izal #Fanfiction

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emilyxvalentyne · 5 years ago

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Alcoholic Love CH Part 2

A/n: finally have part two up! Thank you guys so much for loving this series. And just to clear somethings up, the whole time period of this series is a year before 5sos3 was released. Also please let me know if you guys want to be tagged in part 3. I apologize in advance :,( And lastly Request are open let me know if you guys want blurs!!

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS ⚠️⚠️: Alcohol abuse, depression, fighting, yelling, and over all just a really strong talk about feeling alone and breaking (herself) down.

PART 2

3am

Two hours of sleep was all I could manage. Somehow I found myself downstairs sitting by the pool with a bottle of Stella Rosa, listening to Rex Orange County.

The waves of the pool seemed to be rocking back and forth in slow motion. The trees were swaying. The stars were to damn bright, or maybe it was the tears in my eyes that made them blinding. You know that feeling you get when you have had a few drinks and your whole body just feels so light. Well mine felt so heavy tonight. I felt like mine was just weighing me down, and I so badly just want to feel light again.

So what do you do to try and feel light again? Some find ways to just relieve their stress in ways like, working out, reaching out to professionals, or they find coping mechanisms to try and relieve themselves. I on the other hand, can admit that my coping mechanism is not the best.

Every night for the past three weeks I come down here to just drink. But I’m only ever a reck at night. During the day I seemed completely fine. Besides the minor hangover I got every morning, I seemed okay. I continued school and work just to keep my mind busy. However at around 3am every night I would wake up just to drink myself to sleep.

At first it was just a few beers. I would still get the light feeling at first. Then it was tequila, probably around 1/3 of the bottle. That would get me to sleep so quick. But then that light feeling slipped away. I then found myself drinking whatever I could find, whatever I could get my hands on. Sometimes it was whiskey or tequila, others it was a 24 pack of corona and a bottle of wine. But no matter how much I drank, I wasn’t able to get that light feeling anymore.

No one knew about my addiction. I made sure of that. I went so far as to the extreme of not buying alcohol from the same place no more then once a week. Even then it was risky. If someone recognized me then it was over I would never return to that place. This is what made it seem like it was all my fault. Every night I blamed myself. Never once did I blame him.

He did this to me. My heart was broken because of him. I knew that it wasn’t my whole fault deep down, but yet I always blamed myself. I always made myself thing that I deserved this, that I deserved what he did to me.

No seemed to remember me anymore. All of my old friends with Calum never hit me up anymore. It was like I was never in there lives in the first place. Sierra would sometimes send me a text here and there to check up on me. I never wanted to burden her with my broken heart so I didn’t tell her what happened between Calum and I. I would never bring my problems with Calum into any of their lives because Calum is like their brother. It just didn’t take away from the fact that I was still heartbroken. I just felt like this was it.

3 weeks ago

I walked into the kitchen everything was not fine today. After a long night of tossing and turning, I was in a bad mood. Calum stood me up yesterday and I was really disappointed. Today I was actually not hoping to see him, but just like yesterday morning he was there in the kitchen drinking his coffee and on his phone. He seemed like everything was fine. Well everything was not.

I continue making myself some toast. All I wanted was for the San Andreas fault to finally split open and take me with it. The tension in the room can’t even be cut with a knife at this point. It was so strong that even Duke could feel it. I could actually feel the burning from of his eyes whenever I moved.

The tension in the room was so strong. This made me feel almost afraid. Every step I took, every move I made was being watched. I eventually sat down with my toast and coffee. The only thing separating us was the bar stool that was between us. The whole house was dead silent.

“So you’re just gonna be mad all day, and give me the silent treatment like you’re 19 again?”

I wanted so badly to ignore his comment but if I did then that would only show that I am weak and that he was right. “ I’m not mad, I’m just over it”

“Over what?”

Now I was staring at him, did he really just say that. He should know I’m not going to give up. He know that he was playing with fire now.

“I’m over the fighting Calum” I so badly wanted to just scream at him. To tell him how I was feeling.

“If you’re tired of the fighting then don’t get so mad at everything I do”

Now I was mad. No anger, I was heated right now. How could he just say that. “That’s the problem Calum! You always think that I get angry at everything you do! Well I don’t I feel so damn sad all the time because you would rather go out then just spend one night with me”

“You see you are mad about yesterday, because you can’t let the little things go! So what I forget about yesterday, it’s not like the world was going to end” Calum now was stood across from me with his hands in his pockets.

I felt so mad I just couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was really hurting me just the way he was acting like it shouldn’t affect me. He didn’t think about my feeling, he just wanted to get his point across like it was more important then what I was feeling.

“I’m not mad about yesterday Calum, I’m disappointed, not that much in you but more at myself for ever thinking that you actually cared. I gave you all the space you wanted. I never once stopped you from going out because I know you needed space and for a relationship to work we have to let each other do our own things, as long as we came back to each other at the end of the day, because that matters Calum. You can go and blame me all you want, but I know what I feel, and what I feel right now is hurt. I can’t believe you actually would rather come home at night argue rather then just hang out. To tell me about your day, all I’ve wanted for the past month was for you to just come home and ask about my day. To hold me at night when I’m sleeping. A simple hug would do if you don’t feel like talking. That’s all I’m asking Calum. But you would rather let this keep going, what has gotten you to be so cold, what did I- ”

“I cheated on you” Calum eyes seemed light this time. His whole face read regret. I wasn’t sure what for. If it was because he regret cheating, or because he regret telling me.

I knew I was gonna crack any second now. My heart was hurting so bad. My eyes were so watery that I could feel the tears at the brim of my eyes. I wanted so badly to just punch him. To make him feel what I felt. But no amount of physical pain could really compare to what I felt. So instead I ran upstairs to our room. I put on the first pair of shoes I could find.

“Wait don’t leave I’m sorry I didn’t mean it. Let me explain myself” of course that what they all say. Tears were just freely streaming down my face now. This would have been the first time Calum has ever seen me cry. I never let anyone see me cry ever. I just felt so pathetic.

“Move” I felt so small. No matter how hard I tried to get passed him he wouldn’t move from the door way.

“No you’re angry I can’t let you leave while you’re crying you could get into an accident” no he was holding my shoulders. This made me cry even harder. But I was more angry at this point.

“Let me go!” I was pushing him with all the strength I had left. “Move it!” I bit his left arm causing him to jerk away from me. “Just leave me alone I don’t want to see you again!”

Current time

I drove for what felt like hours. But it was actually 20 minutes until I had to pull into a 7/11. I cried in my car so long that day. I eventually had to leave since so many people were staring at me.

When I finally made it home that day. The whole house was off. Calum’s things were gone. His half of the closet was completely empty. But what really killed me was not hearing Duke’s paws paddling against the floor. My heart was so shattered. I was all alone now. I didn’t even have Duke now to cuddle up against, he was my only buddy. Even though he was just a dog I knew he understood me. Duke always made me laugh when I cried, and he would make me feel not alone. Now I didn’t even have him, All I could do that night was cry. I drank half a bottle of Patron Silver, that night. And since then I just have not been the same.

I should have see it. I should have known that he was cheating. I knew that he was writing and working on the third album, but I should have know that he wasn’t at the studio all night long. I ignored all these things. I felt so guilty, I knew that I wasn’t giving him enough attention either. I should have dropped some classes just so I could be with him more. Going to school full time and juggling a part time job, was so time consuming. I felt like I denied him more then he has denied me. And I let him leave. I told him I didn’t want to see him again.

The heavy feeling started to come up again. This time I couldn’t keep my eyes open. The whole floor felt like it was shaking. Then my eyes shut...

Tagged: @kikibelle @shanetoo

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

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That would be enough; Old!Roger Taylor x reader

*Author’s note*

Alright in honor of yet another Queen member’s bday this month one week after his friend and brother Brian, HAPPY 70TH BIRTHDAY ROGER MEDDOWS TAYLOR!! From all of us to you we hope you have a great birthday and always keep rocking and being your awesome self. Now this is my first time ever writing a current Roger Taylor fanfic so I hope I get it right and I hope you all enjoy this. So not really any warnings except swearing and a tad bit of angst but it’s all FLUFFY FEELS in the end. Enjoy my lovelies :)

Queen Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@waddles03

@coolcxt

_________________________________________________________

It all began in the winter 2016 when we were asked to perform live at the Grammy’s. By we; I mean Adam Lambert, myself and Brian. We were on the stage to wait the arrival of another artist we would be performing along with for the award show. Apparently she’s a big name in America specifically on the Broadway spectrum. I would know because my daughters can’t stop listening to her recent musical she was in, “Hamilton.”

“Brian, Roger, Adam.” The producer called out to us. There walking beside him was a beautiful young woman around her early 30’s with (h/l) (h/c). But what struck out to me was her eyes, she had the same blue eyes as I did, in fact she almost resembled me to a degree. Hell looking back on all the times I dressed in drag, it was like looking at an exact copy. “I’d like the three of you to meet the performer you’ll be singing (y/n) (l/n).”

“Hello, I know you lot get told this a lot but—you guys were such an inspiration to me growing up. And Adam, you’ve got a range that I’ve never heard on any performer.”

“And what of you? Mrs. Eliza?” Adam vocalized which made her giggle.

“Hamilton fan I assume?”

“Girl are you kidding me? The second I heard about the album from a friend of mine I couldn’t stop listening to it. Your tickets are nearly impossible to get now.”

“I know. I never expected it to boom as it did. But as soon as Lin called me about the script and wanted me to be a part of it, I knew I had to get involved. It’s unlike any musical I’ve been in before.”

“I’ll admit my youngest daughter loves the show and couldn’t stop talking about it when we were in New York.” Brian spoke up.

“Oh wow I’m honored Mr. May.”

“Oh love, Mr. May was my father, please call me Brian.” The two shook hands with each other and she then turned to me. God she looked so familiar not just with my looks but she also had the looks of someone I once knew a long time ago.

“And the famous Roger Taylor. I must say it’s because of you I sought out the drums in my middle and high school band.” I snapped out of my daze and we shook hands with each other and said.

“I bet you were probably the best drummer there ever was.”

“Indeed, got my band to win Districts every year.” She said. “Would’ve gotten state champion my junior year of high school but unfortunately a few of the kids in the strings had to screw up the notes.”

“Been there before, mostly with this guy’s strings breaking.” I gestured toward Brian.

“Oh well forgive me but at least I wasn’t the one who forgot the lyrics to my own song.”

“I thought I told you to never mention that again!” I hissed leaving Adam and (y/n) to laugh.

“So shall we run some sound checks for a bit? I was told we’ll be performing after Pink.” (y/n) stated and we were all in agreement.

Throughout the day I couldn’t stop thinking about (y/n). Just the way she presented herself on stage just reminded me of someone but I just couldn’t figure it out. After rehearsal one before the Grammys would begin in just 4 days, I sat in my dressing room when Brian came in and asked me.

“What is it mate? You’ve been out of sorts all day, what’s going on?”

“Brian, did…..did (y/n) look familiar to you?”

“You mean besides the fact she’s a Broadway star?”

“Brian I’m serious there was just something about her that just…..seemed familiar. Like I’ve seen her before.”

“You’re probably just overthinking this Rog, come and have a drink with Adam, (y/n) and I tonight. Adam’s buying this time after all.” I nodded and followed Brian to meet (y/n) and Adam outside.

We managed to find a nice restaurant pub nearby and as we ate a well earned late supper, Brian asked (y/n).

“So (y/n). How did you get involved with Broadway?”

“Well….it’s because of my mom. She was in Broadway, hell it’s been a tradition in my mom’s family. She was just a dancer but she was one of the best dancers according to critics.” At hearing that I choked on my water.

“Roger!” Adam exclaimed.

“Roger you okay?” asked (y/n).

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine just….went down the wrong pipe. Excuse me for a minute.” I raced out of the pub and into the fresh air as suddenly it occurred to me.

“Roger, what’s going on with you?” I heard Brian say.

“It all makes sense now. I should’ve remembered the last name, how could I be such an idiot?” I muttered to myself.

“Roger what are you talking about?”

“Do you remember when we did our last American tour at the start of the 80’s. And we performed at Madison Square Garden.”

“Yeah, where are you going with this?”

“Do you remember that Broadway show we saw? Umm West Side story I think it was? And I actually managed to hook up with one of the dancers.”

“Yeah (m/n). I remember you were crazy about her before you met Dominque.”

“I—I think the reason why she broke up with me was—because she was pregnant.”

“Hold on Rog. This is a serious allegation. You don’t think that (y/n) is…..”

“At first I didn’t get it but the more I look at her the more I see it. Brian she has my eyes, she’s almost like a reflection of me but with her mum’s hair. Brian I—I really think she’s my daughter.”

“So what are you going to do? You know you can’t just spring this up on (y/n) like this so suddenly.”

“I know, I know. I’ll….I’ll try to get alone with her and somehow slowly ease her into a conversation about her mum. Maybe I could even try to get reconnected with (m/n). To at least tell me why she never told me she was pregnant.”

“Now just be sure if you do get her contact information you don’t go off yelling at her. I’m sure she had her reasons…..”

“Reasons my arse Brian she kept my daughter away from me! I never even knew my first child would be a girl and I’ve missed so much….”

“Umm guys?” We turned to see (y/n) standing there. “Is everything okay?”

“No, I mean yes. Everything is fine love.” I assured her. Her eyes gave off that same look her mum always made when she was concerned for my wellbeing. God she really was my daughter.

“Okay, it’s just that you both were gone for a while and I got a little worried.”

“Don’t worry love, we’ll be just another minute.” She nodded before heading back inside.

“Just think about it carefully Rog. She seems to not know herself, so just proceed with caution.” Brian warned me one last time.

A couple days went by and it was just one more day till the Grammys. I was now standing before (y/n)’s dressing room finally seeing a chance to talk to her in private. I slowly reached my hand for the door and softly knocked on it and her voice rang out.

‘If it’s Debbie from the article fuck off I’m not giving you any dirt on Lin!’ God she really is my daughter.

“No love it’s Roger.” The door opened and she peeked out and said.

“Oh god I am so sorry about that Rog. I didn’t mean to do that I—”

“I get it, if you thought the press were bad today you should’ve seen them back in my day. God they literally camped outside your houses at the time.”

“Jesus, oh where are my manners please come in.” she said as she fully opened the door and allowed me inside. I walked in and she closed her door and she said. “Can I get you anything? I’ve got water, champagne, some wine, beer.”

“I wouldn’t mind a beer.” I answered.

“Coming right up.” She went over to the minifridge and pulled out two bottles of beer and handed one over to me. “So did you need anything?”

“Oh I just—see I feel like we haven’t really gotten the chance to really connect like you and Adam have, hell you even managed to spend some time with Brian and not get bored with him.” We both chuckled and I continued, “Only if you wish to. I don’t want to make you comfortable.”

“No, no it’s fine. I mean truthfully the reason why I never got to talk with you much is because…..well I’ve always been starstruck with you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah I know. All my friends had told me that out of every Queen member they’d be starstruck to meet it’d be Freddie. God rest his soul. I really am sorry about his death. I was just 11 years old when I heard the news. God I was depressed for weeks on end, couldn’t even listen to his voice without crying.”

“Yeah it—it was hard on all of us. I was actually on my way to see him. And I was just 300 yards away when I got the call….” I stopped as I felt tears fill my eyes. Jesus retelling that day always makes me emotional.

“But he’d be proud of what you guys have done for the band. As well as everything else you all have accomplished. Even Deacy.” She said as she reached out and took my hand. I smiled and placed my hand on top of hers. It was then a picture caught my eye that stood on her makeup stand.

She turned around and smiled softly and said.

“That’s a picture of my mom and I at my first Broadway leading role. It was in Les Misérables when I got Fantine.” She reached over and grabbed it and handed it to me. I took the picture in my hand and everything I had thought was officially confirmed.

There standing next to (y/n) was indeed (m/n) (l/n), the Broadway dancer I once fell in love with during our tour of America. She looked older than I last saw her, her hair was now a pixie cut short but she was still as beautiful as I remembered her being.

“Do you—still see her? I know life of a performer is tough and time constricting.” I asked her.

“I—visit her whenever I can. Bring her, her favorite flowers.”

“White lilies with baby’s breath.” We both said at the same time. Oh bugger. “How did you know that?” she asked.

“She—she uhh….” C’mon Roger say something clever you old bastard! “She just looks like the type of woman who would love those flowers.” Oh please buy it please buy it please buy it.

“Okay.” She said a bit wearily. “Well anyways I try to see her whenever I can. But it just gets harder and harder to visit her each time.” Huh? What did she mean by that? Is she sick? Was she abusive to her? Oh please tell me it wasn’t the latter.

“Whys that? If you don’t mind me asking?” I asked her. She took back the picture from me and said.

“Well I’d like to clarify where she’s staying isn’t exactly a sunshiny place. It’s always hard to visit a cemetery.” What? Oh no.

“I’m so sorry dear. You don’t have to tell me the reason why…”

“No I feel like I should. After all you’re taking the time to getting to know me, might as well learn the whole package. Well this past year hasn’t been easy on me and my family. My mom was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. We—thought we’d have more time, but just as I was about to tell her that I got the leading lady role in Hamilton…..” she trailed off and clasped her hand over her mouth.

I did the only thing that I could think of. I wrapped my arms around her and lay her head on my shoulder.

“Tell me…..how do you make the pain go away?” she whimpered out. I squeezed her shoulder and rested my head on top of hers and answered her as honestly as I could.

“It’s hard, and it may never go away. But something that helps me cope with Freddie’s death is that I try to think of all the great times I had with him. I’ve been around the old bastard so much I know exactly what he would say to me if I allowed my grief to overcome me. He’d tell me; ‘oh stiff up a lip blondie! Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you tried your best and I know what you did. Now stop your whimpering you big softie’.” I soon heard a small laugh coming from her.

It was small but I at least got a smile from her, her mother’s smile just as I remembered it.

“Your mum knew you’d get the part, I’ll bet she had no doubt that you would. So I have a feeling she’d tell you to keep performing and don’t let her death stop you from your dreams.” I rubbed her arm comfortingly and kept her in my arms for a little bit longer until she finally calmed down. She separated herself from me and said.

“God I probably look like a mess right now.”

“Not at all.” I replied as I wiped a few tears stains from her face.

“Thank you Roger, I—haven’t been able to cry like that since the funeral.”

“I’m always here whenever you need to vent your grief. It’s not healthy to keep it inside, especially for a long period of time.” I said as I rubbed her back. She nodded and that’s when a knock was heard.

“Ms. (L/n), it’s time for final curtain rehearsal and discuss when you and Queen and Adam are going to perform.” One of the volunteers spoke out from the other side.

“Be right out just give me a few minutes.” She called back. “Well I better clean myself up.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” I stood up and prepared to leave her dressing room when I was suddenly hugged from behind.

“Thank you again Roger, really. You don’t know how much it meant to me.” I heard her voice say into my shoulder. I smiled both with happiness but also grief as I turned and hugged her back.

“Anytime darling. Whenever you need to talk, I’ll be there.” She nodded then headed back over to her makeup chair and began cleaning herself up. I stood there and watched her for a few minutes, just seeing her mother in her and remembering all the times I spent backstage on her shows seeing her get ready.

Soon the big day arrived, the Grammy awards 2016. Brian, Adam and I were in our car being driven to the award show where we would walk the carpet and do a couple of interviews. Once we arrived, the crowd was already huge.

Hundreds of people screaming and cheering, hundreds of performers and nominees were strutting around getting their pictures taken. God what Fred would do if he were here right now, probably photobomb a few singers just to be cheeky. After getting a few pictures in, we were stopped for an interview.

Much of it I barely paid attention to, that was until a question regarding to (y/n) came up.

“So singing along with famed Broadway singer of the American musical Hamilton, what was that like for you? Is working with a Broadway star different than other singers?”

“Oh (y/n) was a huge joy to work with. She and I are practically best friends right now and promised me tickets to the next show.” Adam laughed. “No, no she’s an amazing performer and it’s no different than working with any other singer. Less drama of course but no she was wonderful to rehearse with and I can’t wait to perform live with her.”

“And Brian, Roger? Did you guys feel out of sorts working with her? Like did she feel lower to you cause she’s just a Broadway performer?” What kind of question is that?

“No, not at all. As Adam said she was wonderful to get to know. She’s definitely got some surprises in store for us tonight as she sings with us.” Brian answered.

“Yeah Broadway performers are no different than any other singer. It’s all about just mixing in the differences each performer’s got and she was a wonderful mix into this performance.” I replied without wanting to ring the interviewers neck speaking so lowly about Broadway performers.

After the interview I then saw (y/n) talking with a female interviewer. Wow and did she look beautiful. She wore a spaghetti strapped royal blue backless dress which had a small train at the bottom of it. Thinking it wouldn’t hurt to just go up and say a quick hello (after all I’ve seen actors and singers interrupt artists for a quick hello or greeting all the time).

“So yeah at first I was really nervous but then—Oh my god! Hey Rog!” She hugged me and I hugged her back saying.

“Hello love.”

“Also joining us is Queen’s drummer Roger Taylor, Roger how are you feeling?” the interviewer asked.

“Tired.” I answered which made us all laugh. “But also honored to be here, this is our first Grammy performance in like 20-30 years so it’ll be interesting to see how much has changed.”

“Don’t worry not a lot. I was just asking (y/n) how she felt singing with Queen and Adam.”

“Well I can tell you it’s been an honor to perform alongside a talented young woman like (y/n). She’s been an absolute pleasure to sing with and I can see why so many people love her in Hamilton.”

“Oh Rog stop you’re making me blush.” (y/n) groaned out as she tried to hide her face.

“Well I won’t keep you guys any longer. Good luck tonight and we’ll all be cheering for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you so much.”

“No thank you. Cheers you two.”

“Bye.” We both walked away and as the press continued to holler and command more photos I said to (y/n).

“You look beautiful love.”

“Thanks, and you pretty handsome yourself.”

“Once a long time ago.” I stated.

“Hey now don’t say that.” She said as she playfully shoved me.

“Well then, shall I have the honor of escorting you inside milady?”

“Why of course you may.” She said in probably the most exaggerated British accent I had ever heard but I let it slide. I hooked my arm out and she wrapped her arm around mine and the two of us walked inside.

“Well I’ll see you soon up on stage. My assigned seating is with my cast members since Hamilton is up for best musical album.” She said.

“Will do love, and good luck. I have a feeling you guys will win so many awards.” I told her. She kissed my cheek and then headed out to meet with some of her cast members who were already there. Seeing her with all her friends made me feel warm hearted.

“So you still gonna tell her after the show?” I heard Brian’s voice say.

“If I don’t I may never get a second chance. But there’s also something in me to not tell her. I mean what will she think of me when I do tell her?”

“I wish I could tell you what to do Rog, but only you can make that call. But whatever you choose, just make sure you don’t regret it.” It was decided.

As the show went on, (y/n)’s first performance would be with her cast members singing the opening number of Hamilton. And hearing the song with my own ears, I was mesmerized, especially when she got to stand center stage singing the story of Alexander and his mother’s life after the father split.

Much like Queen, every voice blended so well together. Even though there were so many of them, I could easily pick out each voice individually and hear it and their harmonizing just sent shivers up my spine. By the end of the song, the audience roared in applause that I only heard in our concerts, but of course I was probably the loudest cheering for my girl.

As the show continued, we were now preparing to do our number. I saw (y/n) take her spot by the piano and I walked up to her and said.

“You’re gonna do great love.”

“I know, I’m just nervous that I’ll mess up a key or note and end up messing you all up.”

“Don’t worry love, you’ll do great. I have faith in you.” I assured her as I placed my hand on her shoulder giving her a gentle squeeze.

“How do you always know what to say Roger Taylor?” she asked as he placed her hand on top of mine.

“It comes with being old.” I teased which made us laugh.

“Okay boys, Miss, we’ll be live in 2 minutes.” Said one of the producers.

“Well better get back up there.” I gestured towards my drum set. She nodded and I walked away from the piano and sat down at my drum set twirling my drumstick in hand getting my head in the game.

“Welcome back to the 58th Grammy awards. And now for the long awaited performance of a lifetime. These guys have been kick butt in the music industry for years selling off millions of records since the 1970’s and joining them the runner up of American Idol as well as the leading lady of Hamilton. Here is (Y/n) (l/n), Queen and Adam Lambert.” The audience cheered and soon (y/n) began playing the piano as Adam began to sing “Don’t stop me now”.

Adam took the first verse of the song and as the song picked up Brian and I joined in with (y/n)’s piano playing as well as the bass player who was up on stage with us. Lights flashing and Adam’s vice echoing through the speakers as he led the crowd in his own fashion.

By the second verse, the spotlight came onto (y/n) who kept playing the piano and I could hear the cast of Hamilton cheering for her. Along with that soft soprano voice she used for her role as Eliza, for this song she unleashed such a raw, rock and roll alto range. It was almost like if you could convert my rang into a woman’s voice, that’s (y/n).

Also people suspect that most Broadway stars just sing and dance, well not this girl. She’s told us that her mum taught her how to do the piano and guitar so she truly is a triple threat.

Along with playing and singing backup vocals on my cue, I couldn’t help but watch my daughter perform as at the instrumental break, her and Adam now stood side by side together and side stepped with each other like they practiced during rehearsal, she was a born performer. Whether Broadway or Rockstar, she was mine and her mother mixed together.

And that was enough for me to love her even more.

By the end of our piece, the audience was in a stadium sized cheer as we all came together at center stage, (y/n) standing between Adam and I as we waved of saluted to the audience in thanks.

More awards were given and soon it came time for award for ‘Best Musical theater album.’ An announcer read up all the musicals up for the award; Hamilton, An American in Paris, Fun Home, The King and I, and Something Rotten!

“And the winner of the best musical album goes to…..” all was silent and even I was tensed up with anxiety as I just wanted to race up there and rip the envelope myself. I could do it much faster than this guy. Finally it was open and he smiled and exclaimed into the microphone, “HAMILTON!!” I cheered out as loud as I could and whistled just as loud.

I could see (y/n) hugging her cast mates and everyone involved with the musical raced down the runway and up the stage as the audience roared with applause as the score of the opening number was playing and on the screen showed some shots of some of the actors in costume, including (y/n).

I wiped away the tears in my eyes as I kept cheering for (y/n). She may think that no parent was there to see her get this award, but in truth she did have a father who was so proud of her and I just know (m/n) is cheering and crying in heaven.

Once the award show was finally over, I could see the entire cast of Hamilton all outside in a group huddle cheering and crying out as some of them including my girl holding a Grammy trophy. Everyone was talking over each other in pure excitement that was until Lin’s proclaimed.

“Okay Hamilton cast, first round of drinks are on me tonight!” Everyone cheered and they all walked on ahead, that was until (y/n) spotted me. She smiled and ran towards me and tackled me in a hug.

“Ohh I’m so happy you got to see it happen!” she exclaimed.

“Congratulations love. You and your castmates deserved to win.”

“Why don’t you come celebrate with us?” she offered.

“Oh no, no. You wouldn’t want an old grizzly man to cramp your style dear.”

“Hey what did I just tell you earlier?” she mocked.

“Besides; Brian, Adam and I need to be on the next flight out of here back to London to start planning our European tour.”

“So—this is it?” she asked sadly. “Wow it…..it feels like this has all ended too fast.”

“I know what you mean. But you still got so many more awards to win love, you should be focused and celebrating every chance you get. Especially since rumor has it you’re up for a Tony award.”

“Yeah, never did I think I would ever get nominated for one. It’ll be my first nomination.”

“And I pray that they’ll call you Tony Award winner (y/n) (l/n) after you win it.” I said as I cupped her face and stroked her cheek.

“Thank you for everything Roger. And it was an honor to play alongside you. Give my love to Brian and Adam for me will you?”

“Of course.” We both kissed each other’s cheek and she went on ahead.

“Oh hey, next time you three are in New York, come see us. I can have security let you in backstage before and after the show!”

“We’ll take you up on that offer.” C’mon you old fool she’s walking away. You’ve got to tell her now. Do it! Do it! “(Y/n) wait!” she stopped and turned back around.

“Yeah Rog?” I walked up towards her and nervously stammered out.

“I—I uhh….Can we…..can we talk for a minute before you go? Privately.”

“Sure Rog, let me just text Leslie since he’s my ride to the bar.” She quickly sent a text to Leslie and once she saw the reply she said, “Okay he’s gonna wait for me in the parking garage and let the others know to wait for us. Where do you want to talk?”

“Mind if we go to my dressing room?” she shook her head and we both walked along to where Brian and I shared a dressing room before the performance. Once we got in she immediately set herself down on the couch and took off her heels.

“God even though I wear heels every night on stage, I still don’t get used to stilettos. Whoever invented those heel brands must’ve had no skin whatsoever.”

“Yeah, they are a real pain in the arse.” I told her.

“So what do you want to talk about Roger?” she asked.

Here it was, the moment of truth. It was either say it now or let it blow up in your face.

“You—you remember how I knew your mother’s favorite flowers?”

“Yeah.” She said wearily.

“Well, I was completely honest with you (y/n).”

“What are you talking about?”

“I—I knew your mother.” I saw her eyes slowly widen as she just stared at me.

“You knew my mother?”

“Yes. I first met her back in 1980. It was after a Madison Square Garden show, Freddie, John and I went to go see West Side Story at the time, and when I saw your mother on stage…..it was like I was looking at a true dancer on the stage. She outshined everyone.”

“Yeah she was known for that.” (y/n) reminisced.

“After the show I went up and talked to her. Of course she was feisty but I couldn’t help myself. I was drawn to her, and soon we eventually became friends. Very good friends.”

“But…..if you guys were so close, how come she never spoke to me about you?” I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled and I said.

“I’m sorry I have to tell you this, and you may hate me after I tell you. Maybe even think I’m a horrible person but I swear I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what? Roger please you’re scaring me. Just tell me what this is all about?” I looked down at my feet for god knows how long before I finally looked up at her and told her straight up.

“I’m your father.”

All was silent as her face slowly turned from shock to absolute horror.

“At first I didn’t know when we first met. But there was something about you that just seemed familiar. Then the dinner when you said your mum was a Broadway dancer it got me freaked out thinking that it wasn’t possible, but then seeing a picture of your mum it only confirmed everything. I didn’t know she was pregnant I woke up one morning and she was just gone leaving a note telling me she was sorry. I don’t mean to spring this on you at once but I—”

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.” She muttered in haste as she held out her hand.

“(Y/n) I’m sorry I just……”

“Stay away from me.” She sneered.

“(Y/n) please I swear I…..” but she kept interrupting me as I kept trying to explain myself as gently as I could. She kept muttering to herself till suddenly I felt this sharp pain across my face and I found myself down on the ground.

“Just stay away from me! You’re a crazy, senile old man. Just stay away from me or I’ll call the police!” she then raced out of the dressing room, but I could hear the sounds of her crying echoing through the hallway as she ran.

I blew it. Now that all was said and done, I blew it. She knew the truth and seeing her so upset just broke my heart. I didn’t mean to confuse her or make her mad I just—maybe I was being selfish.

It had been about four months since the Grammy’s and ever since I told (y/n) the truth, I just couldn’t think right. Even during rehearsals with Brian and Adam my head just wasn’t in the game as it usually was and they could tell but they didn’t push. Can’t say the same for the managers as well as the touring manager since we needed to prepare for our next upcoming tour.

“Roger?” I heard my wife Sarina call out to me.

“Please love I….I need a moment to myself.”

“Rog, I think you should really come to the living room. Someone came all this way to see you, and it’d be rude to just toss her out into the London streets.” I looked up at her and asked.

“Who is it?” she gestured with her finger to follow her. We walked out of my basement studio and came to the living room to see Tiger Lilly, Rory, and Lola sitting with (y/n).

I couldn’t believe it, all my girls together and talking with each other.

“I—hope I’m not intruding or anything.” (y/n) answered nervously as she fiddled with her fingers.

“No not at all.” I replied.

“Girls why don’t we give them some privacy?” Sarina suggested and soon my three girls left us to chat.

“Didn’t feel the need to tell them quite yet.” She replied softly.

“Although I bet Tiger and Lola would flip knowing that Elizabeth Schuyler is their sister.” She softly smiled and then looked up at me.

“I—I made some calls to my uncle Bobby and aunt Jodie, my mom’s siblings and told them if they knew. And—turns out you weren’t some crazy old man. Apparently when my mom found out she was pregnant with me, she didn’t want to tell you. She claimed that Queen was finally getting the recognition that you guys deserved and she knew you weren’t the type to settle down. She thought you’d leave her or ask her to abort me. So she just decided to pack up her stuff and moved back to the states and never wanted to contact you again.”

“What?” I muttered in shock.

“That’s what my aunt and uncle said. And now that I think back, she always did step out of the room and never spoke when I would play a Queen record or when one of your songs came on the radio. She never said she hated you guys, just—couldn’t listen to your songs. And apparently she knew when it was a song written by you.” I smiled sadly and stated.

“(Y/n) I—I never wanted to confuse or hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

“No you had every right to act the way you did. I know I would.” I said as I sat in front of her. Hesitantly I reached out and cupped her face in my hands and lifted her head up so that I could look into the blue eyes she inherited from me. “Listen (y/n); I have missed so much in your life. Your first steps, first word, the first show you got casted in, every important thing in your life. And I can understand if you don’t want me to be a part of it now. After all you’ve become successful on your own and have grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

“It was hard believe me.” She choked out.

“But you made it. Look at you now. And your mum would be so proud of you.” I saw tears drip down her face and she nodded.

“It’ll be hard, after all I never knew I had a dad. So I assumed it was just my mom and me, it’ll take some time to get used to having a dad but—will you be a part of my narrative?” I only smiled and quoted her character’s famed quote.

“That would be enough, love.” We immediately held each other. I felt her bury her face into chest and I buried my face into her hair inhaling her scent. I held her as tight as I could and couldn’t stop the tears falling down my face.

God I can’t believe this. I had another baby girl, and at last I finally got the chance to hold her in my arms. My eyes, attitude and looks along with her mother’s as well as her mother’s hair, we made a perfect Broadway angel.

About a week later it was the premiere of the London production of Hamilton. As a first success, the American cast came to kick off the show and then auditions would begin here in London. With the help of (y/n), she gave all of us tickets and the best seats for the show. Not just my family but Brian’s as well as Adam and his parents. And seeing my angel in her element on stage in full costume and makeup, she reminded me of her mother but also had the front lady essence that Fred once had.

But the number that got me the most was the number ‘That would be enough’ when Eliza confirmed to Hamilton of her pregnancy after he was forced to be sent home from the war. The lyrics hit me so hard and the chemistry between my daughter and Lin-Manuel Miranda made me think of me and (m/n).

I also saw how on certain parts of the lyrics especially towards the end of the song, I saw how she would look right at me. The way she evoked raw emotion and even allowed tears to fall down her face just shot some serious feels (at least I think that’s how Lola says people call it now) right in the heart.

I was proud of my Broadway baby, I’m glad that now we can be apart of each other’s lives now. And that was enough.

#bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #old!roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fluff #current!roger taylor #queen #queen fandom #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #old!roger taylor #brian may

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leupagus · 6 years ago

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I’m just a lovey-dovey bitch

More musician AU, because I wanted an excuse to send these losers to Nebraska and @broadlybrazen wanted some drunken handstroking, and I’m easy like Sunday morning.

Through some combination of magic and Stevie — “I’m hoping I had something to do with it,” Patrick says mildly when David finally gets hold of him, words tumbling out like so many dropped cards — Patrick Brewer gets invited to play at the Maha Festival. On the main stage, even if it’s an early set.

There’s been buzz about a long-shot nomination for Best New Artist, which he’s been encouraging as much as humanly possible between managing the growing entourage that travels with them and managing Patrick, who still wears his shitty Costco jeans — “I put you down on my card, if you want to go back sometime,” Patrick’s eyes big and brown and totally fucking with him — and brings the fringed vest on the bus to use as a threat if David gets too bossy.

“I’m supposed to be bossy,” David protests as they pull off 80 just past Council Bluffs. “I’m your boss.”

Patrick smiles at him. “Do I need to get you another copy of The Rights of Man?”

“OK we’re both Canadian, so you need to stop with that,” David says, and Patrick threatens him with the fringed vest again.

Despite this the Maha set goes off without a hitch; Patrick plays the single, a few others from the album they’re hoping to push in the next few months, and some song about tractors that David’s never heard of but the crowd seems to love. People come up to David with smiles instead of sneers, to leave a number, talk over collaborations, get some small piece of Patrick that they can use. David’s still a relative neophyte in this industry, compared to Stevie or Jocelyn or hell, even Roland, but this part is very familiar.

By the time Patrick’s done signing and selfie-ing and listening to earnest infants tell him how much they love him, David’s vacillating between pride and a sick dread in his stomach. Patrick Brewer is someone now, someone that tiny children adore and that security guards recognize and that gets invited to festivals and if David’s any good at this he’ll keep being more and more of a someone, until he’s too much of a someone for David to hold onto. And that was the plan, that’s what everyone agreed on going into this. The Roses sell the company and get back to some semblance of their old life, everyone goes their separate ways. This is exactly what David used to want.

They end up at a bar next to the hotel they’re staying at, one of those basement-type claustrophobic affairs with sports on every flatscreen and flatscreens on every wall. “Reminds me of the Glockenspiel,” Patrick says, sliding onto a stool.

“The what now,” David says, sitting next to him.

Patrick smiles. “The bar where we met, remember? The open mic night.”

“Oh god, that place had a name?” He makes a face and Patrick laughs.

There are three other patrons in the entire bar and the bartender looks like she’d rather be killing a deer with her bare hands, but she gives Patrick some local brew and David an italian soda with minimal glaring. Patrick notices the drink and his eyes narrow, but he just talks about the festival and where they’re going next: Kansas City, then Austin and Houston, concerts alongside radio interviews and podcasts and a few other social media “events” that Alexis keeps texting him about.

The conversation meanders, like most conversations with Patrick do; there’s another argument about going to see a game while they’re in Kansas City, because Patrick’s love of baseball is deeply nerdy but also weirdly sentimental and he’s convinced somehow that if only David watches a game, he’ll become some sort of convert. This devolves into a discussion of the seventh-inning stretch, which David insists sounds dirty and Patrick insists is because David’s deeply disturbed. Stevie’s new boyfriend gets mentioned and they agree that he’s not good enough for her, although David thinks that’s mostly because no music critic is good enough for anyone and Patrick seems to think it’s because he’s not attentive enough to what she wants.

“If I let that kind of thing stop me from dating, I’d still be a virgin,” David says, signaling for another soda.

Patrick snorts, then hiccups and blinks. “I think I’m drunk,” he says, thoughtfully.

David frowns as he does the math. “You’ve only had—“ a thought occurs to him. “Patrick. Did you eat anything before the show?”

Patrick’s blush makes David relieved that he’s stone-cold sober, because otherwise this night would end really badly. “I definitely thought about it.”

“This is why I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” David mutters, and waves at the bartender. “Hi! Yeah, do you sell food of any kind? A burger or some sort of grilled cheese situation?”

The bartender looks like she’s fantasizing about gutting that deer. Or maybe him. “We’ve got pretzels.”

“Great. We’ll take some.” He tries smiling at her but she’s too terrifying to make it convincing, so he ends up kind of grimacing as she trundles off. Next to him, Patrick is laughing.

“Never knew I’d cause you this much grief, did you?” he says, leaning his head on his hand, half-sprawled out on the bar. They should’ve gotten him drunk for that last photoshoot, had him lean against a bar or a pool table, loose and smiling and color spread down his neck.

“Oh, I did,” he says instead of saying any of that. “That’s why I didn’t want to sign you in the first place.”

Patrick’s jaw drops, outrage in every curve of him. “You what?”

David shrugs and takes a sip, keeping his face bland. Moments like this, where he can fuck with Patrick, should be cherished like the rare jewels they are. “Stevie talked me into it. I thought anyone who drank Red Mountain wasn’t going to be worth the hassle.”

Patrick laughs again. “Little did you know.” He looks around, although he doesn’t seem to be taking in the depressing, dingy decor. “It’s funny, you know. I wake up and keep expecting today to be the day where it’ll get interesting.”

“‘Interesting’?” David echoes.

“Not interesting,” Patrick amends, patting his elbow in drunken apology. “I mean it’s just — work, you know? Which is great, I like work, and this beats my old cubicle any day of the week. I guess it just doesn’t feel… like anything’s happening.” Patrick shrugs and takes another drink.

David squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to watch Patrick fellate a bottle. “You just performed on the main stage at Maha,” he says. “Last week we shot a music video with Zia Anger. I’m pretty sure three different girls asked you to sign their breasts tonight. Things are happening—“

“I know,” Patrick says, putting his hand on David’s wrist this time. “‘m sorry, I don’t mean — I’m grateful, David. Really.”

It would be a spectacularly bad idea to ask him how grateful, and in what ways he’d be willing to express that gratitude. “You’re welcome,” he says instead, trying to sound flippant and failing miserably, if Patrick’s smile is anything to go by.

Patrick is still touching his wrist; he turns David’s hand over, palm up, and runs his fingers across his lifeline. “Have you been taking palm-reading classes from Twyla,” David says, too high-pitched. He tries pulling away but Patrick’s pulls back, his brow furrowed in concentration as he slowly spins one of David’s rings, the one he perches on the second knuckle of his middle finger whenever he has to go on tour with Patrick.

“It’s so strange,” Patrick says. The callouses on his fingers catch on David’s skin. “You do all this work — I see you working, all the time — but you’ve got the softest hands I’ve ever seen. Even though they’re strong and really big. You have big hands. And strong. But really soft. Do you put something on them?”

“Um,” David replies, cleverly.

The pretzles arrive with a clatter. “I’ll put it on your tab,” the terrifying bartender says and leaves.

“You should eat these,” David says, trying once more to get his hand back. Patrick makes a very unsettling pouty face and holds tighter. “Patrick—“

“David,” he replies, voice low and those big eyes looking at him and David hates everything about his life, every individual thing.

#schitt's creek #ficcage of interest #david/patrick #schitt records #I can't decide if they get interrupted by a phone call or if David just spills his soda #either way: more pining and wistful eye contact pls

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years ago

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Love Yourself (Chapter 27)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 8.8k story words: 219.6k (so far) chapter: 27/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you to everyone for being the best audience i could hope for. i appreciate how patient y'all have been, how understanding you've been that i needed time time off because of Adulthood and Mental Health. i'm not feeling particularly articulate right now, but know that i love and appreciate you all. back to our regularly scheduled programming now! updates should come every 1.5 weeks-ish again :) also, a massive thanks to @auroraphilealis as always, not just for editing, but also for being a great best friend and a wonderful cheerleader. ily xx

Loud, persistent buzzing pulled Phil sharply from his sleep. It took a few sleepy seconds before he registered that the buzzing was his phone on his bedside table — and it was apparently ringing. Still half asleep, Phil waited until it stopped vibrating before reaching for it. It was too damn early to actually talk to anyone, but curiosity was still getting the best of him.

He pried an eye open and looked at the screen, instinctively flinching away from the bright light. Without his glasses, he was too blind to see who had called, but he could just barely make out the time — half past seven.

Nearly an hour before his alarm was due to go off.

That was nearly an hour of sleep that someone was trying to take from Phil. And after the whirlwind of last night’s date, Phil wanted nothing more than to sleep in. It wasn’t like Dan was here to give him a reason to get up.

With a stubborn, tired sigh, Phil rolled back into his pillow. Whoever had called could wait — at least until he was ready to get out of bed.

Just as he was drifting off again, though, his phone rang again. Grumbling, Phil pushed himself onto his elbows and held his phone close enough to his face that he could just barely make out PJ’s name.

PJ? Why was PJ calling him? PJ rarely called Phil. They skyped, sure, but those calls were usually scheduled and were always in the evening.

No, if PJ was caling at this hour, he must need something. And, unfortunately, Phil prided himself on being the Reliable Friend who always answered when his friends needed him.

Reluctantly, Phil swiped on PJ’s name, immediately putting the call on speaker so that he could fall back into his pillow.

“What the hell do you want, Peej?” Phil grumbled as soon as the phone call connected.

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Phil complained. “Of course you woke me up.”

“Mmm,” PJ hummed dismissively. “Are you with Dan?”

“No, I dropped him off after our date last night.” Phil stretched slightly, his hands reaching up under the pillow and hugging it closer to his face.

“Oh… have you, er, talked to him since?” PJ didn’t sound curious, and didn’t sound like he was trying to get information out of Phil about his date. PJ sounded… worried.

Growing concerned by PJ’s tone, Phil pushed himself back onto his elbows. “No, why? What happened?”

“I take it you haven’t been on the internet yet?”

“No. Get to the point, Peej,” Phil huffed impatiently.

“Dan — well, I thought maybe he’d’ve talked it over with you. I mean, twitter’s — fuck, how —“

“What the fuck happened?” Phil demanded, cutting off PJ’s rambling.

Even through the phone, and on speaker, Phil could hear PJ’s deep sigh, could feel his hesitation, before he finally spoke. “You need to look at Dan’s instagram. He sort of… made a big announcement in the dead of night.”

Phil felt a wave of dread wash over him. He certainly wasn’t sleepy anymore. A jumble of incoherent, panicked thoughts were battering at Phil’s brain, but he did his best to push them aside. Worrying wouldn’t do any good right now.

“Hang on, I’m pulling it up.”

Phil hit the home button on his phone with a bit more force than necessary, and was finally confronted with a frankly obscene amount of notifications given that he hadn’t done anything online since the day before yesterday, really. With a concerned huff, Phil swiped his glasses off his night table and shoved them onto his nose, the red dots on his iphone icons coming into focus.

Four hundred and twelve notifications from instagram.

One thousand, two hundred, and ninety from twitter.

Six emails in his work-only account.

And seven text messages.

Despite PJ’s urging to look at Dan’s instagram, Phil opened his messages first. There were three from PJ, which Phil ignored since Peej had clearly gotten ahold of him. Below PJ’s thread, there was a message from his mother and brother each. And finally below them were two messages from Dan.

The preview of their conversation showed that Dan’s most recent text — and we should probably talk — had come in at 3:34AM. That message alone made Phil’s heart pound against his chest.

“You there, mate?” PJ asked.

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed with a strangled gulp. “He texted me.”

“Oh?” PJ sounded interested.

Phil didn’t respond. He didn’t open the text. He didn’t breath. He didn’t do much of anything, really. He was frozen, trying to process what we should talk might mean, trying to convince himself it didn’t mean something horrible.

“Well?” PJ prompted when the silence drew on for too long. “What’d he say?”

“Right,” Phil mumbled as he forced himself to click on Dan’s message, to see what his previous message said. To see if it could make sense of whatever the fuck seemed to be happening this morning.

Phil’s eyes skimmed over his own four messages — he’d somehow blocked out the fact that he’d quadruple-texted Dan last night — before reading what Dan had said.

Dan [3:31 AM]: before you look at your twitter and instagram and whatever notifications, you should probably look at my instagram

Dan [3:34AM]: and we should probably talk

Together, the two messages did absolutely nothing to quell Phil’s anxiety. In fact, Phil’s heart was just thumping louder and more aggressively.

“He just said to look at his instagram.” Phil swallowed roughly. “And that we should talk.”

A quiet hum was PJ’s only response — another thing that didn’t help to calm the panic in Phil’s veins. Phil didn’t like the thoughts racing around his head, didn’t like that the first place his mind had gone was Isabella — and Dan getting back together with her.

Not that Phil really thought that was a risk, but still. The insecure part of his brain liked to remind him that Dan’s last partner had been a model, even if she was a bitch.

With a steeling breath, Phil tapped on the instagram icon.

It seemed to take a million and one years for the app to load, and when it finally did, it opened to a picture his brother had posted of his girlfriend.

Not helpful.

Not wanting to waste time scrolling through his feed, Phil tapped the magnifying glass. Dan’s name was at the top of his recent searches, a small “one new post” written below his username.

Quickly, but shaking with apprehension, Phil clicked on Dan’s profile.

It seemed to take forever for the page to load, but when it did, the first thing Phil saw was a picture of Dan’s scribbly handwriting, made all the more difficult to read by messy highlighting.

For a second, Phil was annoyed at the highlights, frustrated that Dan had obscured his writing even further than his nearly-illegible handwriting. But then the colors of the highlights sunk in — pink, purple, blue.

They were the bi-pride colors.

Phil knew, obviously, and he was certain Dan’s audience would know that, too.

By this point, Phil knew Dan well enough to know that Dan didn’t do anything unintentionally. Not in his music, not on social media, and not in real life. If he’d gone out of his way to highlight whatever he’d written and posted — well, the colors of the highlights were deliberate.

Phil bypassed the words in the picture and flickered down to the caption, hoping for a quick and easy explanation.

the majority of this album is being written thanks to one person. this is the song that started the whole concept of this album and i think it deserves a bit of an update after he took me out on the best first date of my life tonight. he might not have agreed with the timing of when i decided to rewrite it, though ;) xx

“Oh shit,” Phil muttered, dumbfounded, when the gravity of Dan’s caption finally sunk in.

“Yeah…” PJ murmured, his voice carefully neutral.

Phil glanced back up to the picture and scanned over Dan’s messy handwriting as fast as he could. From what Phil could tell, it looked like it was, well, about him. If the caption didn’t convince him, the let’s stop running from love and the fact that Dan confessed to rewriting something because of Phil last night…

“He came out,” Phil mumbled, unnecessarily pointing out the obvious.

“And took you with him, mate,” PJ grumbled.

Phil cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing as he read and reread Dan’s post, trying to pinpoint what PJ was referencing. Nowhere did it mention his name or even anything identifying. The most telling piece of information was the he — but that pronoun could apply to a large portion of the world.

“How do’ya figure?” Phil asked.

“Mate, you and Dan haven’t been very subtle. Look at twitter.”

Even without opening twitter, Phil knew what PJ meant. Him and Dan had been, well, flirting for weeks now. There really wasn’t any other way to describe their online banter.

But upon skimming through his twitter notifications, Phil realized just how confident their audience was as they jumped to the albeit somewhat obvious conclusion.

Tweet after tweet had responded to Dan’s instagram post, all tagging Phil, all speculating on exactly who the he in Dan’s post could be.

And every tweet Phil saw guessed it was him.

And every tweet Phil saw was right.

“They all know anyway,” Phil mumbled flatly. He was supposed to be feeling something right now — surely he was. His boyfriend had just come out, his entire audience was — correctly — guessing that he was in a relationship with a famous singer, his own mum had probably texted him about it. And yet, Phil couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was feeling.

He just felt… surprised.

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” PJ asked gently.

“I…” Phil tried to process all of the new new new as fast as he could. “I guess it was never that secret that I liked guys. I mean, how many times have I mentioned finding male celebrities attractive?”

“That’s true,” PJ agreed. “But I also know that hinting and confirming are two different things.”

“I mean… yeah,” Phil finally relented.

“But you didn’t know Dan was going to do this?”

“No…” Phil chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought through all of the conversations him and Dan had had about their public image. “He made it sound like he didn’t want to come out at all.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” Phil responded tersely.

He should know.

“Do you think he wants people to know that you’re the guy?” PJ pushed.

“I don’t know!” Phil snapped

He really should know.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.“Sorry,” PJ muttered, clearing his voice before he spoke again. “What do you want?”

“I… don’t know,” Phil finished lamely.

Turns out he didn’t know much of anything.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” PJ offered softly.

“I…” Phil tried to think about it, he really did, but his mind kept coming back to why why why. At the end of their date, Dan had pulled Phil into the bloody loo to kiss goodnight, presumably because Dan hadn’t wanted the waitstaff to see, and then just a few hours later, Dan had gone and done that. “I need to talk to Dan. To know what the fuck happened.”

“That’s fair,” PJ agreed. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I’m just… gonna call him.” Phil pushed his glasses onto his head and roughly rubbed his face — an attempt to both wake up and alleviate some stress. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ring if you need me, okay? And let me know how it goes.”

“I will. I’ll text you later,” Phil promised. “Bye Peej.”

Needing to cancel his ten o’clock meeting with his manager, Phil opened his work email to send off some excuse, only to find that Marianne had already emailed him. Along with three people from the BBC. And every single subject line contained the name Daniel Howell.

How the hell had all of these people been up and about and reacting to social media already?

Phil ignored the multiple emails from the BBC, but opened the one from Marianne. He skimmed through the message, where she basically just pointed out what he already knew — that his audience had drawn some pretty big conclusions based on something Dan had posted. At the end of her email, she suggested they “review possible responses” during their meeting that morning.

Not fucking likely, Phil scoffed.

Quickly, Phil typed out the most adult version of sorry for the late notice, but I need to cancel our meeting because my brand-new boyfriend went off the walls in the middle of the night and I have no idea what’s happening. He didn’t bother to read it over again — now wasn’t the moment for proofreading — and immediately dialed Dan as soon as the email was sent.

The phone didn’t ring though, and instead went straight to voicemail. “Dammit Dan,” Phil mumbled in aggravation, hanging up before Dan’s voicemail could start recording.

Chewing on his lower lip, Phil thought through his options. If Dan’s phone was off, then no amount of texting or calling or facetiming would do any good. It was frustrating to have no way to contact Dan after he’d dropped such a massive bomb.

Except, well, that wasn’t quite true, was it?

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list, so theoretically Phil could just… show up. Which might be a bit of a rash move but…

But nothing.

Phil was confused and caught off guard and felt like he deserved an explanation. Despite the early hour, Phil threw off his blue and green check comforter and pushed himself out of bed with steadfast resolution.

He wanted an explanation and, goddammit he’d get an explanation.

On shaky, tired feet, Phil riffled through his drawers for suitable trousers while kicking off his emoji pajamas. No human being — especially not his fashiony, hot new boyfriend — needed to see him in those. The first somewhat acceptable option Phil’s hand landed on were a pair of rather tight joggers, but he couldn’t be arsed to care at that moment. They’d have to do.

He kicked all the way out of his embarrassing, yellow pajamas and pulled on the tight sweatpants in their place. His loose Friends shirt would have to do, because he didn’t feel like wasting the time to find a suitable replacement, and it wasn’t that awful of a shirt.

Phil’s hair was probably a right mess too, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that either at the moment. All in all, this was definitely the least effort he’d ever put into his appearance when he knew he was going to see Dan, but he was growing impatient. Doing anything other than pulling on a jacket and shoes felt like it would waste too much time.

Even the three minute wait for the uber felt like too much time, and Phil had to refrain from just starting to walk over when he got downstairs and the car wasn’t there yet. But the car arrived before Phil could do anything rash, and Phil climbed in with only the briefest of smiles to the driver. His five star rating might take a hit, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment.

On the drive to Dan’s flat, the impatience in Phil’s stomach grew into something… more desperate. The more time he spent longing for an answer, the more he felt like he should already have one — like he should have known about what Dan was doing before he’d done it. And of course, of course, it was Dan’s decision if he wanted to come out — and hell, Phil was downright ecstatic for him — but Phil couldn’t help feeling like…

Feeling like he should have been part of the decision if Dan was going to so nearly pull Phil out of the closet, too.

Not that Phil was hiding in the closet, persay. But as PJ had pointed out, there was a big difference between hinting and confirming, and what Dan had just done was suddenly pushing Phil to confirm. And that Phil couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

He wasn’t against it. Not quite. But — fuck. He really would have liked to have been a part of the decision.

The process of getting into Dan’s building was the easiest yet, this time. All Phil had to do was tell the doorman his name and that he was there to see Dan before he was getting ushered into the lift, the seven button already pressed for him.

The ride up to Dan’s apartment felt shorter than normal — so short that Phil didn’t have time to collect his courage and figure out exactly what he wanted to say. When the doors opened to Dan’s flat, Phil hovered uncertainly in the lift, suddenly worried that it was incredibly rude to just invite himself over to Dan’s flat. Maybe Dan’s phone had gone straight to voicemail because he’d turned it off so he could sleep. Maybe Dan wasn’t ready to tell Phil about what he’d done.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. Dan had texted Phil, had told Phil to look at his instagram and had even said that they needed to talk. So it wasn’t absurd that he was here, now.

The lift doors started closing, the sudden movement pulling Phil harshly out of his spiral of anxious thoughts. Phil’s body, for once, was a step ahead of his mind, because his arm flew out to catch the door before he processed what was happening. He hurried out of the lift and into the foyer before the door could start to close again.

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list. This was fine. It wasn’t insane that Phil was here right now.

Determined, Phil pushed his way further into the flat, walking quietly towards Dan’s room. He only made it as far as the lounge, though, before he ran smack into someone.

Someone much shorter than him or Dan.

“Phil?”

Surprised, Phil’s eyes scanned down and he took in the young woman standing in front of him — he certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be here, and now he really was feeling like just coming over might have been a dick move.

“Louise?” he asked tentatively, nearly positive that he recognized her from Dan’s instagram and pictures he’d shown him of Darcy and her mum.

“Yes!” Louise greeted, her voice hushed. “I’m glad it’s you, when I heard the lift ding I thought —” She cut herself off, glancing back over her shoulder into the lounge. “Well, nevermind. Tea?”

“Oh, er…” Phil glanced over her head, his eyes drifting back towards Dan’s room. As much as he knew that Louise was definitely someone that he should be trying to make a good impression on, Phil really didn’t want to sit down for a cuppa right now. His mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of this morning, and he could barely think straight, much less talk coherently to a stranger.

But regardless, he knew how important Louise was to Dan — and how much Louise’s opinion mattered to him — so Phil pushed back the swirling confusion muddling his head and forced himself to smile pleasantly. “I might just look for Dan if you don’t mind.” Anxiously, Phil rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that his smile wasn’t coming out too much like a grimace.

Louise’s eyes flicked behind her. Her tense shoulders and skeptical eyes gave Phil the feeling that she wasn’t sure if him seeking Dan out was a good idea. “He’s asleep at the moment,” she said, pursing her lips and staring at Phil thoughtfully, like she was trying to figure him out. “You sure I can’t interest you in tea? He’ll probably be asleep a while.”

“I…” Phil’s eyes darted around as he searched for an excuse out of socializing. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t easily find one. He opened and closed his mouth as he desperately tried to find a polite way out of making small talk with Louise — this certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make on Dan’s best friend.

“I’m not really up for tea, right now,” Phil blurted out abruptly, settling on the truth and cringing at his bluntness. Phil shifted his gaze down to his feet, unable to continue meeting her eye. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This morning’s just been a lot already, and…”

Louise sighed, and shot Phil an unsure look. Phil watched as her arms came up, and she crossed them over her chest. “Dan had a late night last night.”

“I know,” Phil admitted, anxiously shifting back and forth on his feet. “But I need to talk to him.”

“And you can wait until he wakes up,” Louise said with an air of finality, her arms still crossed in front of her.

Phil sighed and tugged on his sloppy quiff, aggravated — not quite at Louise, just more at… the situation in general. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and he was hyper aware of all of the emails and texts that he needed to respond to.

Emails and texts that he didn’t know how to respond to because Dan hadn’t fucking talked to him.

“Look,” Phil said, keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could. “I kind of woke up to a PR nightmare this morning and —”

“Oh god, are you not out?” Louise interrupted, her eyes growing wide in panic.

“I — mostly,” Phil hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. The being out thing wasn’t exactly his main problem here. “Never in crystal clear words, but it was out there.” Phil shrugged that particular concern off. “But, like, I hadn’t told my manager — or even my mum — that I was dating Dan yet, and now they definitely both know because they aren’t idiots.” Phil gestured around wildly, his arms trying to convey how absolutely insane the situation was so that he didn’t end up shouting, despite his frustration. “I’m not sure who’s going to be more upset about not knowing. And I can’t even respond to them, because I have no idea what to say because I have no idea what the fuck happened. We haven’t even discussed if we want our relationship to be public or how to handle the media or anything!”

Phil’s arms fell to his sides, limp and useless, as his rant came to a sudden, frustrated end.

His little tantrum must have done some good, though, because Louise looked a bit more empathetic now.

“I get it,” she sighed, sounding resigned. “I’m a manager. And a mum.”

“Thanks,” Phil smiled tersely. “So then you won’t mind if I…?” he gestured vaguely over Louise’s shoulder.

Her eyes traced over him slowly, carefully appraising him. “Fine,” she relented after a minute. “Just… try not to be too hard on him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be in a touchy mood when he wakes up.” Despite her understanding words, Louise still looked wary.

Phil wondered how many stories of hot-tempered, passionate fights Louise had heard over the last year.

“I promise I won’t be a — I won’t be like Isabella,” Phil offered, hoping that the heavy, sincere weight of his voice would convince Louise that he was different.

Louise’s eyes grew wide, her jaw falling open just a hair — she looked surprised, but maybe also a bit… pleased? The tenseness in her shoulders melted — at least some — and she looked less wary. The assurance that not only he knew about Isabella, but was also determined to be different seemed to matter to Louise.

“Good. Because you’ll have me to report to if you hurt him,” Louise threatened, but there was a humorous glint in her eye and a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.

“I won’t hurt him, but that’s a deal.” Phil smiled weakly with an emphatic nod. “So is it okay if I…?” Phil pointed vaguely over Louise’s shoulder, trying to ask her to let him by as gently as possible.

Louise nodded, stepping around Phil towards the foyer. “Yeah, I’m going to nip out then. Tell Dan to text me at some point today, and be nice.”

Phil was tempted to make a sarcastic comment, but didn’t want to risk Louise’s trust. He couldn’t help feeling like he was on a very short leash as it was right now. “I promise I won’t even scream or anything, okay?”

“Good,” Louise said with a smile before heading for the lift. Just before she got to the foyer, she spun around to face Phil again. “Good luck with your mum. And manager.”

“Thanks,” Phil laughed with a genuine smile. “I think I’ll need it.”

Phil waited for the ding of the lift, wanting to make sure Louise was well gone before he sought out Dan, before gathering his courage and carrying on down the hallway. For a split second, he hesitated outside of the closed bedroom door, not completely certain that it was acceptable for him to just burst into Dan’s room and wake him up.

But the memory of the literal thousands of notifications was fresh in Phil’s head, so he pushed open the bedroom door anyway.

The bed, however, was neatly made, and there was no Dan in sight.

Weird. Louise had definitely said that Dan was still asleep. Maybe the guest bedroom?

Confused, Phil stepped backwards and turned back down the hallway, peeking his head into the next room. No Dan in that bed, either.

Phil couldn’t imagine that Dan would be in the music room, and he wasn’t sure where else to look other than the lounge. Phil made his way back, tentatively looking around the lounge entrance before entering.

Curled up on the sofa, still in his tight studded sweater from the night before, was Dan. Despite Phil’s confusion and anxiety, his heart melted. Dan’s hair — and the entire lounge, now that Phil was really looking — was a complete wreck.

There was glass on the floor, both large chunks and shattered shards, that Phil had to navigate around on his way to the sofa. The table — which Phil was accustomed to seeing in a pristine state — was covered in papers and — oh god was that the lube? — on one end. Dan’s notebook was open on the floor, surrounded by a hodge podge of markers. Phil had to bite back the urge to flip through it, to see what else Dan was working on, to pry just a little.

That wasn’t what was important right now, though. Phil turned his back on the mess and properly took in Dan’s lanky body curled up tight on the sofa.

Looking more carefully, Phil’s eyes lingered on where Dan’s trousers were riding down, a soft pale patch of stomach poking out. Dan’s hands were cradled near his face, and his phone was dangling from his fingertips. Phil hovered above Dan, rocking back and forth between his feet as he tried to decide if he really should wake Dan up.

Phil knew Dan had been up late — close to four, at least, and that was assuming he’d gone to sleep straight after texting Phil. Letting Dan sleep a little longer was definitely the nice, selfless thing to do.

But Phil was too anxious and desperate for answers to be selfless right now.

Before Phil could lose his nerve, he reached out and poked Dan’s shoulder.

The poke, however, didn’t seem to be enough to rouse Dan from his sleep. “Dan?” Phil tried, his fingers rubbing into Dan’s bicep a bit harder. “Babe? Wake up?”

“Mmmh,” Dan grumbled. Even in his sleep, Dan seemed reluctant to be roused.

“Please babe? I really need to talk to you,” Phil pleaded. He switched tactics and grabbed ahold of Dan’s shoulder, gently shaking until Dan started stirring.

“Louise?” Dan mumbled, nearly incoherent, without opening his eyes. “Wha’ d’ya want?”

“No, it’s Phil,” Phil corrected.

“Oh.” Dan’s eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting upwards to meet Phil’s.

They were red. Much redder than they normally were when Dan woke up.

The rawness of Dan’s eyes, and the way he rubbed at them, made Phil wonder just how late of a night Dan and Louise had had.

Blearily, Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, scanning the room before landing on his phone. Without saying anything else to Phil, he tapped the home button, only to sigh when it wouldn’t come on. “What time s’it?” Dan asked blearily.

“About eight thirty,” Phil guessed without actually checking a clock.

Dan nodded, his eyes drifting back to his phone. “Hang on,” he said, “Lemme plug this s’in ‘nd get some coffee.” Dan pushed up off the sofa, stretching slightly and making his sweater ride up even further. “Want some?” he asked, eyes bleary as he glanced at Phil before turning to leave.

Phil’s brows furrowed, bewildered that Dan was so casually offering him coffee.

As if nothing major had happened since they’d last seen each other.

“Wait—” Phil said as he reached out and caught Dan by the wrist, preventing him from going anywhere. “Are you not even going to acknowledge it?” he asked, annoyance starting to creep into his voice.

Dan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

Phil blinked back rapidly, baffled by Dan’s lack of… well, anything.

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb,” Phil groaned, irritated. Dan’s eyes grew wide and he held Phil’s gaze for a fleeting moment before flickering off to the side. In the brief seconds that Dan had looked at him, Phil could see entire pools of emotions — emotions that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. There was sleepiness, but there was also worry and… something else.

Something that Phil really wished Dan would just share with him.

“Your texts? Instagram? The internet?” Phil prompted, his voice growing more and more pointed with each suggestion when Dan didn’t say anything.

Dan ran his free hand through his hair, grabbing at the ends of his curls and tugging. His eyes drifted back to Phil’s, and he stepped minutely backwards, his hand nearly coming out of Phil’s grip. “I know, I know,” Dan finally sighed, sounding defeated “I just really need some fucking coffee first. I had a long night.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a long morning,” Phil countered; his fingers wrapped more tightly around Dan’s arm, his nails insistently digging into the soft underside of Dan’s wrist.

Dan flinched back, his hand yanking backwards out of Phil’s grip and curling protectively against his chest. “I suppose that’s my doing, then?” he asked meekly as he stared down at the space between them.

Phil shot Dan an unamused look, not that Dan was looking up to see it. A part of him was itching to reach out and force Dan to look up at him, but Dan didn’t look like he’d be okay with Phil touching him just now. “No, I normally wake up to thousands of notifications after a nice quiet day away from social media,” Phil quipped, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Dan’s eyes clamped shut, and he drew in a sharp breath. His arms shifted to cross in front of his chest, his entire body crumpling in on itself. “Just… hang on,” Dan begged softly without looking at Phil. He sounded so small, so young. Guilt washed over Phil — he was responsible for making Dan look so vulnerable. “Let me get a cup of coffee. Please.”

Phil drew his hands back to his side, shoving them in the front pockets of his joggers as a silent promise that he wasn’t going to try to stop Dan. “Of course,” he nodded, trying his best to keep his voice soft and even. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

With a small shake of his head, Dan teetered away from Phil cautiously and backed out of the room without ever turning fully away. At the last second, Dan spun around, narrowly avoiding running into the doorframe as he exited the lounge.

It was an odd reaction, one that gave Phil the sense that Dan was afraid to turn his back on Phil. Self-defensive reactions like that weren’t usually natural — they were learned.

Phil swallowed thickly, suddenly wondering how deep Louise’s fears ran. Dan’s movements were shaky, guarded, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to not look over his shoulder. Not wanting to make Dan more uncomfortable, Phil trailed behind at a distance as Dan led the way.

In the kitchen, Dan went straight to start the coffee and Phil came to a rest at the opposite counter. Dan still wasn’t meeting Phil’s eyes — hell, he wasn’t even looking up — but Phil could tell that Dan knew exactly where Phil was by the wide berth he gave Phil’s spot along the counter.

The entire kettle shook when Dan filled it with water; his hands were trembling, but his jaw was set, rigid. “Coffee?” Dan murmured without glancing over.

“Sure,” Phil accepted quietly. He made an effort to keep his voice as soft and gentle as he could. “Milk —”

“And two sugars, same as your tea. I know,” Dan interrupted quietly. If something weren’t so clearly wrong with Dan’s behavior right now, Phil would have been touched that Dan knew how he took his coffee. Instead, Phil was hyper-focused on Dan’s shaky movements and watched carefully as Dan rummaged through the cupboards, finally pulling out a ceramic soup bowl that was nearly mug-like and — oh. Phil had forgotten that Dan only had one functioning mug.

Because Isabella smashed the rest. In a fight. A fight unlike any fight Phil that had ever had.

Regardless, Dan poured milk and sugar into the proper mug, adding only the smallest spoonful of sugar to the makeshift mug. That was so typical Dan — putting others first, always striving to make others happy. Phil’s lips twitched for a second, nearly quirking up into a smile at Dan’s persistent thoughtfulness.

Phil waited in silence for the kettle to boil, knowing that he wasn’t likely to get anything useful out of a sleepy Dan. Plus, he hoped that a bit of quiet — and space — would help calm whatever Dan’s fears were.

It felt like it took the coffee maker ages to brew their coffee. Phil was growing well anxious, and Dan didn’t seem to be in much of a better state. Eventually, though, Dan was pouring two cups of coffee, passing the polka dotted mug to Phil, and hugging the soup bowl close to himself.

Dan took a large gulp of his coffee, only lowering it a few centimeters when he was done. The mug was held up high, nearly obscuring his face, and his gaze was focused on the black liquid inside. Dan’s arms were tucked into his chest, and his shoulders hunched up. Again, Phil was struck by how small Dan looked.

“Well? Let’s hear it then,” Dan whispered without looking up.

“Hear what?” Phil asked, head cocked, confused.

“You’re mad at me, so let’s just… get the part where you yell at me or whatever over with.” Dan’s eyes flicked up, just barely landing on Phil, and looked back at his coffee so quickly that Phil would certainly have missed it if he wasn’t watching Dan so closely.

Phil’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Dan confirmed his dreaded speculations — all of this, all of Dan’s current behavior, had something to do with how fights had gone in the past. Phil opened and closed his mouth, sputtering stupidly like a fish as he tried to figure out what to say.

“I didn’t come over here to yell at you,” Phil tried his best to placate his boyfriend, even though he didn’t really know how. Not right now, not with this new, scared Dan.They’d only had one tiff since meeting, and then it’d blown over because Phil had dropped it. But it wasn’t a lie — no matter how desperate and confused and frustrated Phil was, yelling at Dan was never his intention.

“But you are mad,” Dan said simply, still addressing his coffee more than Phil.

“I’m not mad, I’m… in shock, I guess.” Phil blew on his coffee, stalling for time as he grappled for a way he could express his frustrations without unnecessarily startling Dan.

“Call it whatever you want, but I can tell you’re not happy with me,” Dan mumbled.

“Okay, fine,” Phil relented, swallowing his trepediations and deciding to speak his mind. “I was shocked when I woke up to thousands of messages on my social media talking about you coming out and speculating about us.” Dan nodded — a microscopic, subtle movement — but didn’t say anything, so Phil continued. “And I’ll admit that I was a bit miffed when I realized that Louise was here but you didn’t even try to contact me last night.”

“Louise is my best friend,” Dan pushed back, a hint of anger in his voice.

“And I’m your boyfriend now!” Phil insisted. “In order for a relationship to work, we have to communicate, Dan.”

“You’re not my fucking boss,” Dan barked. “I can talk to whoever the fuck I want to. And if you’ve got a problem with Louise, you can just leave now.” There was a harsh edge to Dan’s voice, but beneath it, Phil could just barely tell that it was shaking — shaking with what, he wasn’t sure. Anger, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t have a problem with Louise,” Phil argued. “It’s just — I texted you four bloody times last night. You could have talked to me if you needed… I don’t know, help, or whatever.” Phil waved his hand in frustration as his words failed him.

Dan sat his mug down on the counter, a loud clack filling the kitchen as the ceramic made contact with the granite countertop. “Look I just spent a fucking year with someone who didn’t like Louise and hated that I went to her for stuff, and if you’re gonna be that way too, then just fuck off already,” Dan spat out harshly.

If Phil wasn’t already leaning against the opposite counter, he would have jumped back at that. As it was, his lower back dug into the counter as he recoiled from Dan’s words.

“Don’t fucking compare me to Isabella!” Phil snapped, disgust and horror holding tight in his stomach. “I don’t give a rat’s ass that you go to your best friend instead of me sometimes, but when you end up doing something that all but confirms that you and I are dating, yeah, I’d like to be a part of the decision!”

“You can’t control me Phil.” Dan’s shoulders drew up impossibly closer to his ears, his voice growing high pitched. “I can’t take the time to get written permission from you every time I want to say something about my album.”

“And I’m not asking you to!” Phil retaliated. “But couldn’t you have waited, like, a day so that I wasn’t completely blindsided by you basically outing me when I woke up this morning?”

“No,” Dan huffed, an edge of stubbornness cutting into his defiance.

“No?” Phil asked incredulously.

“No,” Dan repeated, his voice even more forceful this time. “You couldn’t have talked me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to!” Phil exclaimed before he could process what Dan had said — before he could process that Dan seemed to think that Phil would try to control him. In some ways, at least. “I get that given… your album…” Phil trailed off as he grappled for the right words, words that would capture how Dan’s album affected Phil’s life without him sounding ungrateful or overly important.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I get that your album is going to take away some of the privacy and control over my image that I’m used to having online, and that’s fine. But couldn’t this have waited, like, a day so that we could talk about it first? And I could… I don’t know, tell my family we were properly dating first?”

Dan shook his head forcefully, his curls flopping down into his face. “You don’t understand Phil. There wasn’t time. It had to be now.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Phil huffed, his free hand lacing through his hair and pushing it further back.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dan snapped, his arms crossing hotly in front of his chest.

“I’m sure I would if you would stop being defensive for five seconds and actually explained yourself!” The words flew out of Phil’s mouth before he realized what he was saying. They were harsh, yes, but they were true. It felt like all Dan was doing this morning was be overly contrary for no discernible reason, and he wasn’t fucking listening. Phil didn’t want to be angry right now, he really didn’t. It was just hard when Dan was acting like this.

Dan appeared to have heard that, though, if the way he flinched backwards was anything to go by.

“Excuse me?” Dan challenged. He sounded positively outraged, his tone just this side of livid. His shoulders were shaking, and Phil could see anger flaring in his eyes.

And something else, too. Something like… hurt.

Phil put his own mug down on the counter, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. This wasn’t the conversation — well, fight, at this rate — that he’d come over here to have this morning. Phil hadn’t been wanting to argue, he’d just wanted to understand.

“I’m just trying to talk to you, Dan,” Phil pleaded, his voice coming out whiny and needy “I just want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“Right,” Dan laughed bitterly. “You want to know all about the part where I almost outed you, but you don’t seem at all concerned about the part where I actually came out.”

“That was your choice!” Phil insisted, voice raised.

“No it wasn’t!” Dan bellowed back.

Phil froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Dan’s again. Dan had pushed off the counter, and crossed almost half of the kitchen. He was standing rigid, his body leaning forward, his hands in tight fists by his sides. Dan’s eyes were blown wide — he looked shocked by his own words.

Phil certainly was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phil asked slowly, warily. Something happened last night — something big — that much was clear. What wasn’t clear, though, was why Dan hadn’t called Phil last night.

They could have talked about it. Phil could have helped.

“It means — it means —” Dan stuttered, before abruptly giving up. The tension melted out of Dan’s shoulders as he crumpled in on himself, retreating back to lean against his countertop. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we just move on?”

“No we can’t bloody move on,” Phil huffed, his frustration growing. He’d passed impatient, passed needing answers; now, he was downright desperate. “Can you just tell me what the fuck you mean, already? What happened last night?”

Phil stared at Dan with pleading eyes, silently begging him to explain what he’d meant. For a moment, Dan just stared back at Phil. A loud silence overtook the room, neither of them saying anything else.

Finally, the tense silence was interrupted by a sharp sigh from Dan. Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, turning down to his own feet. An agitated hand ran through Dan’s hair, tugging on his curls.

A brief wave of relief shot through Phil, certain that he was about to get an explanation for Dan’s weird behavior. Phil pushed away from the counter, debating whether he should go to Dan, maybe tip his head up and kiss his forehead. Something small to make Dan feel more comfortable talking.

But then, Dan was crossing the kitchen in three big strides, coming to a halt right in front of Phil. Bewildered, Phil searched Dan’s face, trying to figure out what the hell Dan was doing. Dan’s eyes were wild, frantic, a panicked gleam shimmering in them. His cheeks were flushed red, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He was so, so close, so afraid.

And then he was gone.

Phil blinked rapidly, confused and unsure where Dan had disappeared to. One second he was there, and then poof he was gone.

Unsure, that was, until a sudden waft of cool air washed over his upper thighs.

Phil’s attention snapped down, finding Dan again. Dan’s hands were on Phil’s joggers — joggers that he’d managed to tug down to Phil’s knees before Phil had even realized where Dan had gone. He was still tugging, trying to wrestle them over Phil’s knees now.

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil gasped, his voice coming out rushed and urgent. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dan didn’t look up at Phil. Instead, his hands abandoned Phil’s joggers, leaving them wrapped around Phil’s bony knees, and latched onto Phil’s boxers. His hands pulled insistently, frantically — too frantic to be particularly effective, mercifully.

“Dan!” Phil implored. The shock of the situation finally wore off, and Phil finally launched into motion, his hands flying out to catch Dan’s and prying them away from his hips. His boxers were awkwardly a bit low now, but Phil didn’t risk letting go of Dan’s hands — Phil was worried that Dan would just reach back to pull them all the way over his arse. “Look at me!” Phil ordered forcefully.

Slowly, painfully, Dan’s eyes drifted up and came to rest somewhere around Phil’s neck.

Phil took a deep breath, calming himself down, before he hooked his fingers under Dan’s chin and coaxed his head the rest of the way up. “Dan, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Phil asked, careful to keep a gentle tone to his voice now that he had Dan’s attention.

“Making the fight go away,” Dan responded. His voice was small — so, so small — and he still wasn’t quite meeting Phil’s gaze.

Phil stared blankly, his eyes trailing over Dan’s scared face, as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, Phil was assaulted with the image of Dan covered in hickeys and scratches, embarrassed and ashamed as he admitted to Phil that they were from angry sex — angry sex that came from a fight.

Phil’s jaw dropped.

It didn’t shock Phil to know that Dan and Isabella dealt with their problems through sex, but he was a bit astonished to find the effects so lasting, to realize that Dan still seemed to think that angry sex was the proper solution to an argument, even with Phil.

Phil shook his head forcefully — both in attempt to tell Dan no, and also to shake himself out of his head and into action.

“Babe,” Phil whispered. Looking down at Dan’s vulnerable, submissive stance, Phil felt his heart breaking. Desperate to make them feel like equals again, Phil sunk down to his knees, too. He let go of Dan’s wrists, reaching up to brush back his unruly curls from his face. “Blowing me isn’t going to make the fight go away,” he whispered softly..

“Oh,” Dan muttered, voice small. His eyes trailed down between them. Phil couldn’t see his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. “It’s well and truly fucked then, huh?”

Dan sounded so scared, so distraught, that Phil wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Dan sounded like he genuinely believed that it — they — must be fucked if a blowjob wasn’t going to fix their fight.

Phil’s shock turned to horror when he saw tears leak down Dan’s face.

“Oh, baby. No, no,” Phil cooed. His hands flew from Dan’s hair to cup his cheeks, his thumbs swiping under Dan’s eyes and smearing the tears away. “No, nothing’s fucked baby.”

Slowly, Dan tilted his head up to look at Phil. “It’s — it’s not?” he hiccupped, his voice coming out higher and more crackly than normal.

“Of course not,” Phil promised, rushed and confident. His eyes were wide in horror at the very idea of them, this, their relationship, being over so soon. His brows were furrowed in confusion at the idea of Dan being concerned that this was over — that they were over. “But the way to make the fight go away is to tell me what’s going on, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dan sniffled loudly, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was quiet for a moment, with the exception of a few residual hiccups, but then he nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah? You’ll talk to me this time?” Phil asked hopefully.

Dan nodded again.

“Without getting defensive?” Phil prompted, half teasing, half trying to encourage Dan to act more rationally this time.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed meekly. He fell forward, Phil’s arms wrapping around and catching him on instinct. The second Phil’s arms were around Dan, Dan burrowed into him, melting against his chest. Dan’s hands were smushed between them, crooked at an awkward angle, but Phil didn’t mind.

Silence settled between them as Dan calmed down. Slowly, gently, Phil started tracing his fingers up and down Dan’s spine, his fingers catching on the studs of Dan’s sweater.

After a moment, Dan mumbled, “Can we sit down?”

Phil pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Dan minutely leaned into Phil’s lips, pushing his head into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. He pushed up to his feet, and immediately offered Phil a hand up. Dan’s gaze trailed over Phil as he climbed off the floor; Phil felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he remembered the state of his clothing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dan muttered, his eyes meaningfully flicking down to Phil’s half drawn joggers.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmured back softly as he stood up with Dan’s help. Phil’s spare hand flew to his joggers, pulling them back up his hips as he stood. He tried his best to swallow down his embarrassment, to make his cheeks go back to a pale white; he didn’t want to call any more attention to Dan’s rash advances than necessary. Not right now.

For the first time that morning, Phil was thankful that he’d only been able to find the tight joggers that morning — anything looser would likely have slipped straight down Phil’s thin legs and likely made the whole situation more awkward.

Dan dropped Phil’s hand to turn and collect their coffees from their respective countertops while Phil fixed his pants and joggers,. “Come on,” Dan muttered, cocking his head out of the room.

Phil obediently followed Dan out the kitchen and towards the lounge, nearly smashing into him when Dan came to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” Phil asked, alarmed.

Dan spun around to face Phil. “I don’t wanna be in the lounge.” His words came out rushed, his voice high. “It’s a mess.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil assured him, “But we can go wherever you want.” Phil stepped backwards, moving closer to the wall so that Dan could navigate around him and lead them somewhere else.

“I need something from in there, though,” Dan insisted; his words were vague, but his tone was determined. He thrusted their coffees at Phil without much more of an explanation. Phil grabbed the coffees in silent shock, his fingers barely wrapping around the mugs and steadying them before Dan let go.

“I’ll meet you in the bed,” Dan said with a note of finality.

Dan only made it a few paces down the hallway before he stopped and spun back around to face Phil. “If that’s okay, I mean,” he said quickly, his voice high and rushed. “It’ll be more comfortable than the music room and I swear I won’t, like, try anything again. Like, I promise I’ll talk, I’m just really tired and I —”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted gently. “The bed’s fine. Get whatever you need. I’ll be there waiting for you.”

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan au #au #coffee shop au #barista!phil #singer!dan #iminclinedtowriting #ly #love yourself

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queen-of-the-avengers · 6 years ago

Text

Fighting Your Battles

Characters: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1,547

Warnings: Fluff in the beginning, angst at the end

Request: Could you write a Tom Holland or Peter Parker oneshot where he finds out the reader has really bad depression/anxiety & he helps her through it? (i would 100% understand of you dont feel comfortable writing this btw)

Summary: Anxiety is always lurking around the corner for you. It’s worse when you’re in the dark and Tom knows just how bad it can get. Luckily for you, he is always there to help you.

Squares Filled: Singing in the Shower // Nyctophobia

Author’s Note: This is for @marvelfluffbingo and @marvelangstbingo . If you have any requests, please send them in! I would love to hear what you have! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Before you started dating Tom Holland, you were a big fan of his. He was in a number of shows/movies that you loved, but your favorite one was Spiderman. Being a Marvel fan didn’t help, and when you got the opportunity to join him on set for a few days, you took it. Tom was hosting a contest on his Instagram and you jumped at the chance, hoping that you would be picked.

Low and behold, you were the winner and he flew you to London where he was filming his new Spiderman movie. You got to hang with him on set and he was allowed to take you into the city, which was one of the best times you could have ever had. Tom was so nice and funny, making you feel welcomed despite your anxiety just begging to be released. Ever since you were a child, you’ve had bad anxiety. It was worse when you were faced with the darkness.

There was something about the dark that ate at your anxiety. Maybe it was just you, but your mind liked to create creatures in your head that lurked just behind the shadows, waiting to grab at you when they got the chance. Ever since you could remember, you’ve slept with a nightlight and much to your displeasure, you still sleep with one.

You’ve tried to get help before but all the psychiatrists you’ve seen couldn’t help you, no matter how much medicine they’ve prescribed to you. They diagnosed you to have nyctophobia, which is the irrational fear of night time or the darkness. Over the years, you’ve learned to accept it because it wasn’t going anywhere, and the one person who didn’t give you shit about it was Tom.

It was near the end of your trip when he snuck over to your hotel room in the middle of the night because he wanted to hang out. You two had gotten close since you arrived, so it wasn’t strange that he would do this. You weren’t expecting him to come over, so you were in your bed, nightlight in its socket, and a book in hand.

He found out about your anxiety problem and decided to comfort you rather than laugh at you. He admitted he had an anxiety problem so he understood why you wanted a nightlight. Before Tom, you never really connected with someone as well as you connected with him. When your trip ended, you were sad you probably weren’t ever going to see him again. So, much to your surprise, when he asked you for his number, you honestly didn’t know what to do. You ended up giving it to him and 5 years later, you two were dating and living together.

He was your rock, and you didn't know what you would do without him. Instead of you leaving the life you build in New York to live with him in London, he was the one who moved. It wasn’t a big deal to him since he did a lot of traveling anyway. Because of his sacrifice, you had a feeling you two would be together for quite some time. It’s not often a man would move across the world just to live with you. Thomas was something different.

Lately, things had winded down after Tom was finished filming his latest movie. It hadn’t been released yet, but you’ve seen it in a private screening. No matter the movie genre, Tom never failed to surprise you. You knew he was a good actor before you met him but now that you got a taste of his personal life, it made his acting ten times stronger.

But, he was done with filming which meant that he was able to stay home with you. The upcoming weeks would be filled with movie nights, take out dinners, and being with one another. New York was a magical place but it had its downfalls. One of them being blackouts. It didn’t really help with your anxiety, but they were rare, so you didn’t worry too much about them. You tried not to think of your anxiety too much. Singing usually helped you calm down, and since you were busy thinking of tonight, you didn't want to seem anxious.

Picking one of your favorite Ariana Grande songs from her new album, you started to sing it loudly, knowing Tom was downstairs. The words flowed easily out of your mouth as you tried to harmonize. You weren’t the best singer in the world, but you couldn’t care enough to stop. Lathering shampoo in your hand, you slathered it on your hair, massaging it gently. You continued to sing your heart out, not hearing the door open and close.

Just keep breathin' and breathin' and breathin' and breathin' And oh, I gotta keep, keep on breathin' Just keep breathin' and breathin' and breathin' and breathin' And oh, I gotta keep, keep on breathin'

Sometimes it's hard to find, find my way up into the clouds Tune it out, they can be so loud You remind me of a time when things weren't so complicated All I need is to see your face

“You know, you sing better than you think, darling,” Tom said which caused you to jump 50 feet from your body.

“You scared me,” you said, as you quickly rinsed the shampoo out of your hair. When you were done, you slid the curtain opened to look at his face.

“Sorry, you know I love the sound of your voice,” Tom smiled at you.

“Okay, I know you’re here to sneak up on me. What’s up? I’m almost done in here.”

“I just called the restaurant to confirm our reservation, but they’ve told me I wasn’t on the list. They don’t know what happened, and I tried making a new one, but the wait time is far too long. Do you think you’d be okay with me making dinner tonight?”

“You know I don’t mind. I’d actually rather just stay in with you. We can have dinner and then a movie night? I’ve laid out the movies I’d like to watch,” you grinned.

“Yes, I saw them. So, you’d rather watch Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield but not me? I am a little offended,” Tom smiled despite his words.

“You know I love your Spiderman movie, I just like the plot line a little better in the other ones. I promise, I’m not cheating on your Spiderman,” you giggled.

“I know, I’m teasing you. I’ll be downstairs when you’re done. You should still wear the dress you have out,” Tom nodded as he walked to the door.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he winked at you before leaving the bathroom. You chuckled and went back to your shower and your song. As you were nearing the end of the song, you grabbed the bar of soap to wash your body when the lights turned off in the bathroom. Almost instantly, fear spiked in your mind as your heart rate increased.

“TOM!” you screamed, dropping the bar of soap. You didn't know why the lights were off, all you knew is that you needed to get to a source of light. It’s one thing to be in the dark while in your room or the kitchen, but to be stuck in the dark while in the bathroom, that was a whole different ballpark. Feeling around the shower, you quickly turned off the water and pulled back the curtains.

“TOM!!!” you screamed again, stepping out of the shower. Tears brimmed the surface of your eyes as they tried to adjust to the darkness. Your hand made contact with the marble countertop and tried to feel your way to the door. Yes, you were still naked, but you couldn’t care about that.

Instantly, your mind created lurking monsters, ready to grab you at any moment. Growing up, you called these monsters your demons, and they very well could be. As you made your way to the door, you connected with a hard body just as arms wrapped around you. Almost instantaneously, a scream left you as you tried to get away. Somehow, you thought your monsters materialized and were ready to grab you.

“Y/N, you’re okay, it’s just me,” Tom said and you fell into his body, letting out the sob that begged to be released the moment the lights turned off.

“I’m scared, Tom,” you cried as your shoulders shook. “They’re going to get me. Don’t let them get me.”

“You’re going to be okay. I’m right here, I won’t let anyone touch you,” he stated as he wrapped a towel around your quivering body. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight so you could see what was around you. When you looked up at his face, you could see from the corner of your eyes, the monsters shying away from the light.

“They’re all around us,” you whispered, fear gripping your voice as well as covering your features.

“Darling, look at me,” Tom spoke, turning the phone so the flashlight pointed upward, and illuminated his face. “No one is here but us. There are no monsters, that's just your mind playing tricks on you. Besides, if there were, I wouldn’t let them touch you. Come on, let’s go downstairs where the candles are. We can’t have dinner since it’s a blackout but we can order something. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

“Don’t leave me,” you cried, letting the tears fall freely.

“I won’t ever leave you. Come on, take my hand,” Tom held out his hand which you took, “I’m right here.”

“Okay,” you whispered, and if he weren’t standing so close to you, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. Tom gently and slowly led you out of the bathroom, your bedroom, and to the stairs. Slowly, he directed you down, knowing you needed to go slow. When you got like this, he had to treat you with such delicacy or else you would have a bad panic attack, and have what he calls “blackouts”. You gripped his hand tightly, and despite your efforts, you couldn’t calm your racing heart.

“Tom, I’m scared,” you shivered, but he didn’t stop.

“I know you are, darling. We’re almost there. You’re doing great, I’m so proud of you,” he encouraged you to make it to the living room. “Okay, just wait here and I’ll get the candles…”

“No, I don’t want to be alone. Please, take me with you,” you begged.

“Okay, okay, let’s go to the kitchen,” Tom didn't argue with you and took you to the kitchen. Both of you searched and grabbed as many candles as you could. The more you had, the better you would feel. Going back to the living room, you used Tom’s phone camera to set them around the room. After you were done, you sat on the couch while Tom lit all the candles. The dimness the candles provided wasn’t ideal, but it was better than sitting in the dark.

“Okay, I’m going to go upstairs and get you some clothes. Will you be okay?” Tom asked, and you nodded. You had to get over this fear and to do that, you had to be alone in the dim light. “I’ll be 2 minutes,” Tom left you alone and rushed up the stairs, eager to get back to you as soon as possible.

Monsters that your mind created, stood in the shadows, watching you. Some of them laughed, some of them sneered but most of them just stared at you. There were so many creatures around you, that you had to tell yourself they weren’t real.

“Go away, you’re not real,” you whispered to yourself, bringing your knees to your chest. The towel fell from your body, leaving you exposed to whoever was watching you. The demons hissed and sneered at you, but you covered your ears to block the sounds out.

“Please go away. I don’t want you here. Leave me alone. Tom!!” you yelled for him. He usually made them go away.

“I’m right here,” he said from behind you. You jumped, not expecting him to be this close to you. “You’re alright. I’m here.” He moved to the front of the couch and helped you put on his clothes. He knew how much you liked it when you wore his clothing.

“Make them go away,” you sniffled, staring at him with puffy eyes, “please.”

“Okay, how about this,” he started to say as he took a seat next to you on the couch. He made sure you were paying attention to him and nothing else, “what kind of date do you want to go on?”

“What do you mean?” you sniffled.

“Tell me your perfect date. Where you want to go, what you want to do, who you want to be with,” Tom smiled.

“Well, I want it to be with you,” you smiled, some of the demons disappearing. “We’d go to my favorite place to hang out when I was a kid. I’d go there all the time to be alone. There is a park near my childhood house and if you go deep enough into the woods, you’d see a tree--my tree--with a big, hollowed out trunk. I’d take blankets and books there, only to have my parents yell at me when they couldn’t find the stuff I had taken. I’d love to go back there with you. It’s not far from here, actually.”

“I’d love to go there with you. It sounds like a lovely place,” Tom smiled. You were about to say more about it when you looked behind Tom and didn’t see anything. The demons your mind concocted had been long gone. Your mind was free of the poison your anxiety filled you with.

“Tom?” you whispered.

“Yes, love?”

“They’re gone. All of them are just… gone.”

“I knew you could do it,” Tom smiled and pulled you into his body. “You did it all on your own.”

“You make them go away,” you whispered, and settled into his body.

“I would suggest we watch those movies you wanted, but seeing how the power is out, why don’t I get my laptop and we can watch something on Youtube, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled, and he let you go to stand up.

“You’re going to be okay while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, I go this,” you smiled, confident in yourself to keep the demons at bay.

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seasonofthegeek · 6 years ago

Text

Ninette Week, Day 2: Text Messages

Days 1, 2:

Marinette: I can’t sleep

Nino rolled onto his back and held his new phone over his chest. He and Marinette had agreed to enroll in a mobile service plan together with their first paychecks from their new jobs so they had an easier way to communicate than making the trip down the block each time they wanted to talk.

Nino: Something happen or just not tired?

He watched the typing bubbles come up and then disappear again. Something else then. After a few moments they reappeared and were quickly followed by a message.

Marinette: Homesick, I think

He and Marinette landed in Bausave thirty-nine days ago. Gerald had helped them get set up in tiny studio apartments in what appeared to be the lower class part of town from what Nino could gather. Marinette had been hired at a grocery store bakery and he found work at a small family-owned restaurant.

Nino: Do you want me to come over?

He frowned at the screen. Maybe he shouldn’t have sent that. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to go over if she needed him to because he had a few times now but…

He turned on his side and reached for his old phone on his nightstand, dropping the new one in its place. It was little more than a brick as far as functionality was concerned in this dimension but he’d had his charger in his backpack, which made the trip through the portal when they lost their transformations so at least he could keep it powered. He pulled up his photos and scrolled through the pictures of Alya. He missed her. He missed her voice and her laugh and the way she made everything around her come to life just through the sheer force of her personality.

Falling in love with Alya had been easy and wonderful and amazing. She pushed him to grow as a person and become better. And in the late hour in the darkness of his room, Nino let himself admit that he might not ever see her again, the small admission a tight ball in his stomach. It had been over a month now and there was no indication that they were going home.

Marinette adamantly demanded they talk to all of the others who had come through the portal before them. She and Nino spent the first few days of their new lives going from place to place and gathering testimonials. They went to the field they were found in and left letters for Alya and Adrien, keeping them anchored in a pile of rocks so the wind couldn’t claim them. He’d watched the hope and determination in Marinette’s eyes drain little by little as each person told them the same thing.

There was no way back.

There were other places to travel in this dimension, a whole world beyond Bausave but even the ones who had left for a while came back, claiming the city felt the most like home. Maybe it was the portal or maybe it wasn’t. There was no way to know.

Nino had no doubt that Alya and Adrien would work on a way to bring them back. He thought of the engagement ring Adrien had been so proud to show him only a few days before the akuma battle. He wanted help planning a big engagement scavenger hunt and inviting their friends to be a part of it. It was just the kind of thing Marinette would’ve loved. It all felt so long ago now.

He scrolled to a picture of him and Alya and remembered that Trixx and Wayzz were there too even though they didn’t appear on the screen. He wondered if somehow Wayzz was still back home with Alya. Maybe he would be able to help her figure out what happened. He hoped he was still there. Nino rubbed at the scarred skin of his wrist. It was too depressing to think of other possibilities.

He came to a picture of their group together. Nino had one arm around Alya’s waist and the other across Marinette’s shoulders with Adrien on her other side. It was from years before, brought over from his old phone and dumped into the newer photo album. They were all so young. He wasn’t sure Marinette and Adrien had even been dating at that point. Probably not if the blush across her cheeks was any indication. It hadn’t been long before that then that he was the one blushing because of her.

Nino quickly banished that train of thought before it had time to gain any traction. Those feelings were from years ago; they didn’t mean anything now. Alya and Adrien would find a way to bring them back home. They just needed to be patient.

He jumped a little when his other phone buzzed against the nightstand. He switched them out again and squinted against the brighter screen.

Marinette: Can I come over there? ______________________________

There was a crisp bite to the air and Nino wondered if the season was beginning to change. In Paris, it would’ve been hot for at least another month but as the night breeze brushed against the bare skin of his arms, he realized that might not be the case here. He caught sight of Marinette a few steps from her building. She was hugging herself as she walked and her expression didn’t change when she saw him.

“Getting cooler,” he said in greeting, falling into step beside her to finish the short trek to his apartment. “Almost feels like fall.”

“You didn’t need to meet me. It’s a short walk.”

Nino shrugged. “I don’t like the thought of you being out here this late by yourself.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you then.”

He ducked his head and held the door to his building open for her.

“And you’re right, I think it is getting cooler.” Marinette waited for him to come inside and followed him up the stairs. “I guess we need to think of buying a jacket and some long sleeve shirts since we’re not sure how long it’ll be until we go home.”

“Yeah.”

“The bus runs to the mall on Wednesdays, I think. Maybe we could go then?”

“I think I have to work.” Nino unlocked his apartment door and they went inside.

“Oh, okay.”

“But, uh, I could see if Steven is willing to switch days with me if you’ve already got Wednesday off. It’d be nice to have a day at the mall,” he added quickly, unable to take the disappointment she was trying so hard to keep out of her tone.

Marinette gave him a tentative smile. “Sure, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“For you, Mari? Of course not,” he grinned, flopping down on his secondhand couch and grabbing the remote. “What should we watch tonight?”

She took the other end of the couch. “Let’s see if that cooking show is on where they have to wear ridiculous costumes. I couldn’t stop laughing during the western one.”

“Ridiculous cooking show it is.” Nino flipped through channels until he found the right one. “You know, I think I might actually like this more. Back home, there are way too many channels. You always know what you’re going to find here.”

“I’m sure it gets old after a while.” Marinette curled up and rested her head on the arm of the couch. “But maybe not.”

“You never know.”

They sat in silence for almost an hour as the small television played before them and the night wore on.

“Did you know they don’t have strawberries here?” Marinette asked, voice soft. “I was working on an order and mentioned that strawberries would be a nice addition to the cake and Daphne had no idea what a strawberry is. They just don’t exist here.”

“That’s really weird.”

“I know. I really miss strawberries.”

Nino didn’t feel the need to tell her that strawberries weren’t really what she missed. He really missed strawberries too. ______________________________

“I should go,” Marinette yawned. She rubbed at her eyes and Nino saw black smudges under them when she lowered her hands. It was inexplicably adorable.

“Just take my bed,” he suggested. “The sun will be up soon anyway. Sleep for a few hours and then you can go home.”

“It’s not a long walk,” she argued tiredly but didn’t move towards the door.

“Stop being stubborn.” Nino’s words were clipped by his own yawn and he ushered her to his bed. “We stayed up too late.”

“Stupid cooking show with its captivating gimmicks,” Marinette muttered, looking at his rumpled sheets. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he nodded, already shuffling to the couch. “Night, Marinette.”

“Morning, Nino,” she replied, crawling into his sheets and promptly falling asleep. ______________________________

Marinette was gone when Nino woke up to his phone alarm. He grimaced as he stretched. The couch was too short for him to sleep on and his neck and back would pay the price today.

A note was scrawled on the back of a take-out menu on his counter.

Thanks for letting me stay last night. It really helped. I hope you have a great day. Let me know about Wednesday. I’ll run by the field to check the letters today before work.

- Marinette

PS: You need a notepad so I don’t have to find a menu to write on every time.

PSS: I just realized I could’ve texted you instead of searching for something to write on for like 10 minutes and now I feel dumb.

Nino grinned and made his way to the shower, feeling lighter than he had since they’d arrived. He turned on the radio and hummed along to the song that was already becoming a familiar part of his routine. He stared at his reflection and the stubble that was coming in along his jaw. Pursing his lips, he lathered up shaving cream and worked on cleaning up the edges, leaving most of the stubble in place. He’d never let his facial hair grow before but this seemed as good a time as any to start.

With a spring in his step, Nino dressed and left his apartment, humming under his breath as he made his way down the street to work. ______________________________

Marinette couldn’t squash the nervous feeling as she walked down the street towards Nino’s restaurant with a small box in tow. She was on her break and only had fifteen more minutes to get back behind the counter of the bakery so she really needed to hurry. There was nothing wrong with bringing Nino a piece of cake to thank him for being a good friend through everything. It was a perfectly fine gesture. There was no reason to feel guilty about it.

She shifted the small box and briefly contemplated turning around and going back to the bakery. A roll of thunder rumbled above her and she began to hurry towards the restaurant. If it was going to rain on Nino’s walk home, he definitely deserved the slice of double chocolate cake she’d made for him.

Marinette ducked into the restaurant and felt eyes on her. The community was small enough that she was beginning to get used to hearing the murmured voices in her presence. People seemed nice enough about it at least, even though some were hesitant to make contact. She spotted Nino cleaning a table towards the back and quickly made her way to him.

“Hi.”

Nino looked up in a surprise, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. “Hi. What’s going on?”

She held out the box. “Thank you for last night,” she said, keeping her voice low. “It’s double chocolate. It has more of a rich taste than sweet so I think you’ll really like it.”

He took the box carefully from her hands. “You didn’t need to do this. You know I’m just as happy you’re here with me.”

Marinette wasn’t sure how to respond so she just nodded and glanced back toward the door, catching the eyes of several diners watching their exchange. “I need to get back to work but I just wanted to drop that off.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it, Mari.”

“Sure,” she replied awkwardly. “Well, um, I’ll see you later, okay?” She stepped back and started towards the door, tripping over a table leg and flailing for a moment before she righted herself again. She squeezed her eyes shut, face dark red, and waved again before hurrying out of the restaurant.

“She’s cute,” Steven grinned on his way to the kitchen. “Is she single?”

Nino watched Marinette rush past the windows and couldn’t identify the feeling in his chest. “Not even a little bit, dude.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

#ninette week #Not Only You #ninette #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain-cheng #oops I drabbled again

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winedwords · 7 years ago

Text

Aleister | Wicked Games | Black

Title: Wicked Games

Pairing; Aleister Black/unnamed OFC

Words; 3985

Summary; Run darling, for I am hungry.

Warnings; Werewolves, magick, smut, slight dubcon, outdoor sex, alcohol, non graphic descriptions of death, murder, and dismemberment.

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m sorry I’ve been gone. I’m trying to be better and get better, I’ve been struggling with anxiety, depression, and one hell of a writer’s block. Please accept this as my submission and tell Raini she’s pretty okay? Its still Halloween on the Best Coast.

Run. Run. Run.

Don't look behind you, don't think about the snapping twigs and the howls and yips and growls behind you.

Just run.

It was that mantra that kept me moving forward even if my lungs were starved for air and the muscles in my legs were screaming from the overexertion. I thought I could feel his breath at my neck and it spurned me forward, dodging and weaving through the trees. Every time I blinked, I saw his burning amber eyes and his growled words echoing in my ears, the fear still just as fresh as it had been when I first heard the screams.

Do not let me catch you. It's a game. Just - it's a game. Please... Please, don't let me catch you. I don't want to win this game, not now.

When Aleister Black had first rolled into my small Florida town, I had a hard time meeting his eyes. Danger and the threat of violence seemed to ooze from every pore in his body, let alone his intimidating presence. He was tall and broad, tattoos covering every visible inch of his upper body, his eyes sharp and calculating as they roamed over everyone and everything. I remember him walking into the diner where I worked the day after he'd moved to town and a hush had fallen over the establishment, even the rowdy bikers in the corner booth went still.

Of course he'd sat in my section. It was just my luck that he would. I remember being struck by how he had moved like a large cat, all sinewy muscle and effortless grace in what was clearly an expensive navy suit. When he'd sat at the counter and eyed the menu in front of him disinterestedly, the sleeves of his suit hiked high, exposing even more colorful ink high on his wrists, the patterns and symbols disappearing up into the sleeves of his jacket. My hands had shook something fierce as I had poured him coffee, somehow by the grace of whatever divinity exists, I had not spilled more than a drop.

"Relax, katje. I am another patron of your establishment, just here to enjoy the hospitality my new home has to offer."

His lightly accented voice was smoother than the hundred dollar bourbon I had snuck a nip of during the holidays and the way his sharp eyes had softened just a touch had done wonders to soothe my frayed nerves. I felt trapped in his gaze, but it wasn't something uncomfortable, oh no, his small smile had chased away any fears of this man. It was his words though that had seemed to break the spell of silence that had befallen the diner and the usual ruckus of Sunday breakfast had resumed.

He never did order anything beyond his coffee nor did he introduce himself, he just sat at the counter surveying the people of the diner over the rim of the tan mug that seemed so tiny in his hands. At the time, it hadn't struck me as odd that he seemed to be paying attention to the rowdy group of bikers in the corner booth. I made sure to top off his cup every time I passed by and I would be warmed to my core by the small, soft smile he would always send my way before it was wiped from his face as he turned to resume studying the occupants of the diner.

It was while I was tending to a particularly difficult group of teenage girls that he had disappeared and I was almost hurt that he'd left without saying goodbye. I had come back to his seat, heart heavy for a reason I didn't quite understand to clear his space of the empty cup and the small carafe of cream, when I saw it. The fresh, crisp hundred dollar note, underneath the saucer. I had looked around, eyes wide, for the mysterious man who had left a ninety eight dollar tip for a two dollar tab.

I didn't find him.

The next day, high ranking members of that biker gang, Los Lobos de Muerte, began to go missing. At first, local law enforcement had chalked it up to natural power struggles that sometimes shook criminal enterprises such as theirs. It wasn't until they began finding the bodies that the meetings that they were having near the end of my closing shifts began to get serious, the lawmen's faces dark and lined with worry and tension.

They had tried to keep their voices down as to not alarm whomever may have been in the diner that late with them, but I always seemed to catch a word here, a phrase there. They had been finding bodies in the woods, bodies that had looked like they had been mangled by something very large and very angry. The grizzled old police chief had looked gray in the face as he had muttered that he hadn't seen anything like this since the Lobos had driven the Vampiros out of town in the early nineties, when he had been a fresh faced homicide detective.

That was the overwhelming fear then, a gang war.

The nights I worked the late shift were not my favorites, as I would have to walk the ten minutes to my small flat alone and in near total darkness, with only the odd streetlight and my cell phone to illuminate my path. Since the bodies had begun being found, it was like I could see the bodies of dead bikers at the backs of my eyelids, my imagination conjuring up vivid and disturbing images of what those scenes must have looked like. I had chalked it up to my wild imagination then too that there was nothing to the feeling of a predatory pair of eyes watching me during my walk home.

My day shifts were a delight. Like clockwork, thirty minutes after my shift would start, he would walk in to the small diner, seat himself in my section, and patiently wait for me to turn my attentions to him. It was on the fourth occasion that I finally learned his name, Aleister Black. It was on the seventh occasion that he had kissed my knuckles goodbye, leaving me with a permanent flush staining my cheekbones and the sensation of walking on air for the rest of the night.

Beneath the cool and intimidating exterior, was a thoughtful and quiet man. He had a carefully articulate opinion on everything, whether it was the news of the day on the old television behind me or which of Luis the cook's pies were better. He was unerringly gentle, or so I thought, and mild mannered. Aleister had told me of growing up in Amsterdam, of his passion for his profession, professional wrestling, and his interest in collecting old vinyl albums. He'd even sought fit to show me personal photos, like those of his small puff cloud of a kitten named Totty Potato and of the wall of flash tattoo art he had slowly been putting together in his home.

I ignored the healing bruises on his knuckles. The faint traces of something rusty brown underneath his trimmed nails and lining his nail beds. The barely there, but still suspicious stains of the same color along the hems of his pants. The small cut below his eye had made me ask questions for a moment, but he had quickly given me a story about tripping while trying to avoid stepping on a mischievous Totty who had gotten underfoot.

We had fallen into an easy routine and I wasn't ashamed to say that I was infatuated by the man. I like to think that we became close during those moments in time, that I had gained a friend whom had the potential to be so much more than a friend.

It all came to a head tonight.

I was invited out by Sarah, one of the other waitresses in the diner, to this house party happening on the outskirts of town which she claimed was hosted by one of her friends. Halloween in our small town wasn't a joyous occasion, as the holiday had been marked by a string of disappearances every year for as long as anyone could seem to remember. The senior citizens in town would warn the young children in town to avoid going into the woods at night, for the things that made those sounds would surely eat them. The teens had found it to be a rite of passage, whoever could get the farthest into the woods would be seen as some sort of hero.

It was as we got older that the woods began to make us wary. On more than once occasion, I thought I had seen something staring back at me, only for it to disappear once I had blinked. I would have been happy to never go near the woods again, but my coworker was insistent. She was a bit of a wild one, always showing up to her shifts late, sometimes still drunk, with a half feral grin on her face.

She insisted on dressing me up as a woodland nymph, all gauzey material and chiffon and wild curls with strategic streaks of gold shimmer and glitter placed all over my body. Sarah had insisted that we'd be indoors all night, that there was no need for a jacket, that the tiny dress and the skyscraper heels were completely appropriate. I had agreed, especially after she had nudged some tequila shots my way.

The trip to the small house where the party was being held passed by in a blur of giggles and tequila. We had taken a cab and I dismissed it as a trick of the light the way her eyes seemed to flash a burning gold every time I would throw my head back to laugh uproariously at whatever joke the cabbie had told us, but when I turned to her with my brow furrowed, there was nothing.

We'd heard the party as we had turned onto the dirt road leading to the house, the bass reverberating in the air. When we had pulled up to the house, it was clear that this was a party unlike any I had seen or attended before. Motorcycles were lined up in a neat row on one side of the driveway but the other side was littered with bodies, some seemingly passed out, others milling and stumbling about.

I didn't have time to think as Sarah grasped my wrist in an iron grip so tight that I was sure it would leave bruises and dragged me from the cab and through the front door, the bass of the music swallowing my protests. She released me as soon as we were in the middle of the writhing dance floor and I had lost myself in the music, undulating and writhing in time with the frantic beat.

There was no concept of time passing, as I giggled and danced with both Sarah and nameless, faceless strangers alike without a care in the world. There was a peculiar energy to the room, something that spoke to the pleasant hum of alcohol in my veins and the primal side of my subconscious that would have terrified me if I had not been so inebriated. I had been enjoying myself with a ridiculously attractive man with long brown hair and a smile that damn near liquefied my panties, when I was pulled away roughly, stumbling backwards. My back was pressed against skin and leather, an all too familiar tattooed arm wrapped possessively around front.

I could see my dance partner's brilliant blue eyes go wide as he put his hands up in surrender and I could feel the rumble of growled words, which sent the other man retreating into the crowd with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs and Sarah was practically beaming, the light playing that trick again where her eyes appeared gold and maniacal.

"Do you like her Aleister? I got her just for you, just for tonight! She's perfect!"

He would have responded, I could feel the growl from his chest down to my core, but both he and the music were cut off by a pulse of energy that made every hair stand on end and every instinct in me screamed to run. I would have taken off if it weren't for his arm banding tighter around my chest as a cry went up around the room. Oh God, it was not a trick of the light.

The vast majority of the partygoers had those same golden eyes, their faces shifting ever so slightly to something sharper and more predatory, and all the attention was focused on me. I stiffened with fear, trembling something terrible and it felt like I had been dunked into a tub of ice water, sobriety hitting me like a freight train. No one dared to make a move though they did stare hungrily at me and I felt pinpricks in my hip... Were those claws?!

I could feel the tall man behind me shift on his feet, leaning down to whisper into my ear, though instinctually I knew that everyone in the room could hear his words like they were shouted.

"Stay close to me and no one will touch you. Just think of this as a game, katje. I will take care of you."

I had barely nodded my head when he barked at the horde of partygoers to go outside and they followed obediantly and without question, though Sarah seemed to linger amongst the last to leave, her face filled with malice and triumph. Aleister waited until everyone had shuffled outside to whirl me around, his normal sharp blue eyes suddenly a startling burning amber and the rough palms of his hands braced on my shoulders to keep me in place.

"Listen to me and listen to me closely because there isn't much time. You are precious to me and this was not the way I wanted this to be. You are going to see and experience things tonight that I wouldn't wish for you. I will do my best to shield you from the worst of it, katje, but you must promise me this. You must not let anyone catch you once it starts. Get out of the woods and to the road as fast as you can."

I blinked glibly, trying to process what exactly was going on.

"I-I don't understand, what is happening Aleister? I'm scared, this isn't like you and what is happening with your eyes?"

His nostrils flared as he took a deep inhale, the pupils of his now gold eyes blowing wide as I could make out the nervous bobbing of his Adam's apple through his beard. His hands tightened on my shoulders and he leaned in close, his eye contact unwavering. Aleister was close, oh so close, wearing nothing but a leather vest with intricate patches in a foreign language and strange symbols and a pair of dark jeans that had too have been painted on. The heat was radiating off of him and soaking into my cold with fear body.

"I can smell the tequila you had before you came here. I can smell the whiskey that Cole drank before he started to dance with you. I know that your boss at the diner yells at you if you're not early to your shift in the office. I know you're terrified out your mind right now. I'm asking you to trust me and do what I say. I will explain as much as I can."

The earnestness of his words and the honesty in his eyes had me nodding in assent before I had even realized what I had done. I couldn't take it back, as he had grasped me by the hand, interlacing our fingers, and pulled me to the backyard.

As soon as we had crossed the threshold, a cacophony of cries and howls went into the air, the blood thirst suddenly and painfully clear. Whatever warmth that had been imparted on me by Aleister's closeness had been chased away yet again by the ice cold wave of fear that pumped through my system. Sarah was there, at the front of the crowd, looking feral and hungry, ruthless glee clear in her body language.

The man next to me raised his hand and the din quieted instantaneously.

"This one, she is mine to hunt. Only mine. The bitch who brought her here though..."

This wasn't the Aleister who had comforted me inside. This wasn't the quiet and gentle man who kept me company during my shifts. This was the man I had caught glimpses of that first time he had strolled into town: powerful, commanding, and cold. His claiming words sent a shiver of fear and... anticipation? down my spine. The horde of people in the back turned their hungry gazes to Sarah, who's face went pale and fearful.

"She will be the first sacrifice to Herne tonight."

A victorious chorus of yips went up as the group moved as a single unit to surround Sarah, her cries for mercy and pleads barely audible. There was a primordial electricity in the air and it was affecting everyone, some sort of shift overtaking everyone. It was that first cry of pain from the center of the group that made the watchful Aleister turn to me and order me to run.

Do not let me catch you. It's a game. Just - it's a game. Please... Please, don't let me catch you. I don't want to win this game, not now.

He was different, like he was bursting through his skin and could barely contain his energy. His teeth were bared and sharper than I remembered. I needed no other provocation, kicking off the tower like heels and taking off into the woods, screams and the sickeningly wet sound of flesh tearing following me.

I could see him at the corners of my eyes, alternating between from running on all fours like an animal and running faster than should be possible on two legs. It was hell trying to not think about the forest floor cutting into my feet, thorns and stones having cut the soles of my feet open and bloody long ago. I knew he was toying with me, getting close enough to growl my name or breaking twigs, just to drive me further into my panic. It was when he reached out to touch my arm, that I knew I was done for.

The sudden touch to the back of my arm startled me just enough that it broke my concentration on the path in front of me and I tripped heavily over an exposed tree root. The impact of the fall drove the air out of my lungs as pain bloomed in my hands and forearms. Not one second later, Aleister was upon me, flipping me over to face him as he loomed over my body, his knees bracketing my hips and his hands pinning my wrists to the ground.

"I'm sorry. katje. I didn't want it like this, didn't want to hurt you. This... I'm not strong enough to fight this. The call, the magick is too strong."

It was at this point that I realized he was completely naked and... painfully aroused if the heavy length pressing into my abdomen was anything to go on. Whatever magick had taken a hold of him, was beginning to affect me, a warm and pleasant tingle starting at my extremities and working towards my center, the buzz in my veins competing with my fear in a way that was maddening.

"You said that this was just a game."

He shook his head wildly, hair slick with sweat.

"Its the Hunt. Once a year... I'm so sorry, it's too much for even me to resist."

What possessed me to crane upwards and brush my lips against his still baffles me, as did my words, "I trust you. Take what you need."

He groaned and then his hands were everywhere.

The fabric of my dress and my undergarments shredded underneath his grip and his mouth was leaving violent, open mouthed and bruising kisses along my neck and chest, teeth digging in hard enough to leave imprints of his too sharp to be human canines. The buzz of the Hunt magick was pumping through my veins, fanning the small embers of arousal into something almost painful.

He'd shifted so that my legs were around his hips and the blunt head of himself was brushing up against my slick core, catching in a way that drove little gasps out of me and sent my hips rutting upwards like I was in heat. His grip around my wrists was painful as he growled a warning to be careful, but I paid no mind, the haze of magick having already driven the sense from my body. It took several tries, but I finally rolled my hips in such a way that I caught the tip of his cock at my entrance and then I pushed my hips upward to impale myself on as much of him as I could.

Aleister barked at the sudden penetration, but wasn't caught off guard for long, driving himself into me with a force that sent all the air out of my lungs and my eyes wide. He was a force of nature then, pistoning himself in and out of me at a merciless pace, his teeth bared in my face. I was a creature of sensation, mewling and whining and screaming with every thrust.

I made the mistake of, in the foggy red haze of lust and pleasure, of raising my hips to meet Aleister's. He apparently took it as a challenge to his masculinity because I blinked and I was on all fours, with his hand gripping my hair painfully tight and his teeth drawing blood in my shoulder blade. I wasn't sure if it was his teeth or the feel of him impossibly deep in me or some sort of combination of both but my voice was driven from me and I had no choice but to claw at the dirt and pant under his body's assault of mine.

The coil that had been tightening in me at a too rapid pace was at the verge of snapping when he reached between us to pinch at the little bundle of nerves just above where we were joined and I screamed as my vision went white. Neither the tremors that wracked my body or the way that my internal walls clung to him greedily seemed to slow Aleister down and I was soon just a raw and exposed nerve ending of pleasure.

My memory of what happened after that was spotty. I know that we spent several hours rolling around on the forest floor, taking our fill of one another in the most primal and carnal of ways. Even through the red haze of the Hunt magick and lust, I could vaguely recall a tall, impossibly tall man, with hair as red as fire and the most beautiful of antlers watching us almost proudly before disappearing within a blink of an eye.

I woke up to the sun peeking through my windows, completely naked but clean, in my own bed. I was sore, painfully so, but my cuts were cleaned and my poor feet bandaged. Next to me on the night stand was an overly large bottle of water, three protein bars, and a carefully folded note. My body screamed, every inch of skin seemingly bruised and every muscle shaking from over exertion, as I rolled across the queen bed to reach the note.

We need to talk. I will be at your home at nightfall.

Herne was among us last night.

Aleister. xx

TAG TRAIN:

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#aleister black imagine #aleister black smut #aleister black fic #31 little wrestling fics

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bullybyulyi · 7 years ago

Text

all the time in the world for you

merry christmas moos! got this written just in time it seems ^^;

read on aff | ao3

In the 6th year since their debut, Yongsun gets caught in a dating scandal. Or, it’s not really a scandal, because Yongsun and the company very cleanly and softly deliver the news, but she’s an idol. Everything is a scandal.

Crushed, my heart is broken. Solar how could you ㅠㅠ

Why did this happen?? I am so sad ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Her reputation’s gonna die. Dating? Should know better. I give up.

I still love you Solar!!!

She had expected negative feedback, a lot of it, but there was less backlash than she had anticipated. Somehow, despite that, it still hurt. She was a human being, and almost 30 years old to boot. Shouldn’t she be allowed to love?

But she loved her fans dearly too. She loved the ones who understood, and she even still loved the ones who got angry, because she could understand, to some degree, the feeling of betrayal that comes simply from realizing that the people you idolize are human too.

She’s home alone and she reads the news, the comments, and she feels bad. And as always, like telepathy, Byulyi arrives and pretends to annoy her when Yongsun clearly knows she’s just trying to make her feel better.

When Yongsun takes a shower, Byulyi gives her a glamorous photoshoot afterwards. Soon enough she’s changing through different pajama sets and onesies and dancing like she’s the sexiest woman alive and Byulyi jumps around with the camera to get all her best and worst angles. She’s happy, and tired. Byulyi singing her praises fills her up with love and assurance. They throw all the comforters she has onto her queen bed and Byulyi fluffs them around her so much she feels like she’s sleeping on a cloud. That night, amidst the thousands of posts in mourning of Solar’s status as single, there’s an update in the fancafe. A simple picture of Solar in silk white pajamas, melting into her bed, face bare and hair tangled and just a hint of a smile.

A woman of many charms Solar-unnie who loves Moomoos dearly! Moomoos rest well tonight too, the sun is setting

(Posted without permission, ㅋㅋㅋ)

#1 Yong-fan MB

Before she falls asleep that night, Yongsun feels a kiss on her temple.

Seven months later, a month after their latest comeback, Solar ends up on the news again.

MAMAMOO Solar ends relationship after 7 months!

It happens because of Byulyi, of course. The news part, not the breakup.

They’re in her apartment, doing a VLive because it’s been a couple of weeks since they got to interact with the fans. They were randomly humming and reading comments when Byulyi suddenly turned to her and looked just a bit too smug.

“Unnie how’s your love life?”

Yongsun glares at her, tries really hard to make it look real, but Byulyi opens her eyes wide and innocent and she cracks.

It feels just like when she explained her Best Couple Award with Eric a few years ago. She’s happy it happened, but she doesn’t really think she should talk about it, especially to Moomoos. But as usual, Byulyi is tactless and blunt.

“It’s nice right? Being single.”

“Okay, Byul-ah. Whatever you want me to say, Byul-ah.”

But she giggles and leans her head on Byulyi’s shoulder anyway.

ㅋㅋㅋ forgot she even had a bf

Was the bf even real? ㅋㅋㅋ never saw him ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Moonbyul looks so happy <3

Solar please go out with me!!!

Did Moonbyul scare him away? Yongfan Byulie won’t have it

He was real. They didn’t break up because of Byulyi, and the thought of it makes her laugh. They had gotten together because he had understood. He understood she wasn’t just personality extremities packed into one, that flipped like the page of a book depending on what outfit she had on. She was multifaceted and human, just like anyone else. He saw that, and he dropped his ideals and his expectations and got to know her, and she really, really liked that. So, they dated.

If Yongsun could describe him in one word, it would be ‘compliant’.

There was once that she and Byulyi were taking a walk around their neighborhood. New lights had been strung about in preparation for the holidays and the twinkling canopy made their stroll a little bit magical. The lights had been out for a week already, but lately Byulyi had been busy working, trying to help produce an album. Yongsun wanted to see them with her first, so she waited.

The ran into him. Yongsun smiles, because they hadn’t met up in a while, only texting sweet nothings. Byulyi bows a little and greets him nicely. Yongsun goes for a hug and a kiss and they talk for a little bit before she realizes he wants to take this chance to spend time with her.

And she realizes she doesn’t really have the energy to be with him right then. She says something that’s subtly dismissive, and he smiles, because he understands, goes in for one last kiss (just on the cheek) and is on his way. Byulyi gives her a quick side-hug after he leaves, and they continue their walk undisturbed.

That’s when it starts for Yongsun. The realization that she doesn’t need him.

“Am I a bad girlfriend?”

“I don’t know Yeba, you’re not my girlfriend.”

Yongsun throws a pillow at her. “I’m being serious.”

Byulyi smiles and catches the pillow, because she saw it coming. “I am too. I don’t know if you’re a good girlfriend or not,” She reaches over and squishes Yongsun’s cheeks with both her hands. “But you’re a good person.”

Yongsun still looks unsure, so Byulyi pushes her cheeks around for extra measure and Yongsun lets her.

“You might even be the best person, unnie.”

The next day, she breaks up with him. He nods when she finishes talking, not like he’s sad, or conceding, but like he’s thanking her for her time. Yongsun looks into his eyes and sees that the more he understood who she really was, the more he probably realized they weren’t meant to be together. When they depart, he squeezes her hands (and his own are so much larger) and wishes her all the happiness in the world. She realizes she did love him, loved how he never pushed and loved him for the fact that he loved her too, despite the fact that they were never in love.

The first time Byulyi comes out with a relationship, they really can’t say they’re a girl group anymore. They haven’t technically disbanded, sure, but the last time they promoted as Mamamoo was a couple of years ago. They don’t really hit the news as hot topics, aside from when they release new music, or if Moonbyul and Solar star on yet another reality TV type of deal. They’re a duo that can’t be missed. Everyone knows, they’re just good together.

But when Byulyi’s relationship is revealed to the public it takes the industry by storm. She’s not the first to come out, but she’s the biggest name to do so. Legally it’s been okay for almost two years. Socially, things are still on the rocks.

It stresses her out so much, they break up a month later. The girl cries, and so does Byulyi. She spends the next few days at their company, and then Yongsun takes her home because she wrote six songs and they’re all sad and she hadn’t eaten in three days.

She wasn’t necessarily in love with the girl, but it was the first time in a long time that she let someone in like that, and in the end, she was the one to shove them back out into the cold. Byulyi thinks it proves her thoughts that she’s a bad person.

When Yongsun opens the door to her apartment, Daebakkie and Haengwoonie run circles around their ankles and jump up.

“I brought them over while you were gone.”

Byulyi kneels down to pet them and they stop jumping to lick at her palms. She can’t believe she left them while she was off being depressed on her own. It doesn’t make her feel better.

“Thank you, Yongsun-ah. I’m sorry you had to take care of them because of me.” Yongsun is quiet behind her. “I should have been better. They don’t deserve to be left alone.”

She feels arms slide around her sides and the gentle pressure of Yongsun leaning against her back.

“Byul,” She speaks softly. “You can’t be perfect. You can’t live your whole life without hurting others and being hurt. But you don’t have to punish yourself like this.” Yongsun slides one of her hands from Byulyi’s waist, to her hand that’s stroking Daebakkie’s fur. “And you don’t have to be alone.”

Byulyi turns to her then and Yongsun can tell she’s ready for a real hug. They lose their balance and fall back against the wall, but Yongsun pulls Byulyi into her lap and Byulyi lays her head on the older woman’s chest and they stay like that for a bit, Yongsun stroking Byulyi’s hair. Daebakkie and Haengwoonie snuggle themselves onto either side.

Byulyi stays with Yongsun, and after three months she cancels the lease on her own apartment. It’s a non-event, really. She’d told Yongsun she was going to save up and buy them a new TV, and Yongsun had jokingly asked her how she was going to do that when she was throwing money at an empty flat. Over the weekend they clear out her old place and donate away all the furniture what wouldn’t fit into Yongsun’s apartment. Their apartment.

At age 35, Byulyi officially claims that she’s off the market for dating. Really, she hasn’t seen anyone in over a year. But she makes the big sweeping statement to Yongsun one night when they’re doing a movie binge because Yongsun, yet again, got dumped.

“You know, I always thought Daeyoon was the best.” Yongsun sighs.

“But you still dumped him.”

“Exactly. But everyone since him, they hadn’t even understood me, or who I had to be. Maybe it’s unfair, but I can’t devote so much time to them like, I don’t know, other people can.” Yongsun doesn’t mention how she notices a pattern that they text her with anxious questions every time she’s with Byulyi, and how annoying it becomes. Every time it begins to fall apart she wonders why she started a relationship in the first place. But she’s 36, and she should be in a steady romance, even if she doesn’t feel like it.

Byulyi shifts so her body is facing Yongsun.

“Aren’t you tired of dating already? Yonghee-unnie’s got three kids now doesn’t she? I don’t think your parents are pestering you for children. There’s not anything pushing you to settle down.”

“What about you? Isn’t it weird that Seulgi has a son? Your younger sister got married and had a kid before you.” Yongsun huffs. “I feel like a relationship is the last thing I want, but shouldn’t I at least try?”

Byulyi shrugs. “My parents have stopped trying to tell me what to do. And I don’t know, I kind of realized I wasn’t really dating to make myself happy, I was just doing it because I thought I should be married by now, like a certain somebody,” She gives Yongsun a pointed look that the other woman pouts at. “Once I stopped trying to chase that idea…” Byulyi takes one of Yongsuns hands and lays it flat against her own. They look almost the same, except Yongsun’s palm is rounder.

“I don’t know. I’m happier now.” Byulyi interlaces their fingers and Yongsun feels something click. Like so many times, when their conversations become deep, Byulyi is right. Yongsun is happy now, happy in ways that she was always fighting to be when she was dating people. But right now, it’s effortless.

Yongsun hums in thought, but really she’s made up her mind, too, that she’ll stop looking around for something she doesn’t need. Everything that completes her, she already has. Her career, the people she loves

And Byulyi.

#moonsun #moonbyul #solar #mamamoo #mamamoo fanfiction #ff

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