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mystic-myrtille · 1 year ago

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45 for the kisses 🥺

First of all I'm so sorry this took so long, but life gets in the way and I just wasn't feeling super motivated. I hope I got this right because this turned more into Marinette pining hard, but I tried my best and I hope you enjoy!

(Also I have a few more of these sitting in my inbox and I will do them! Not sure when, but I'll work on them! I'm just super slow)

#45: Almost kisses

Something was different. Something about Luka. Something about him had… changed.

Well, actually that wasn’t true. Luka hadn’t changed. He was still cool and calm and sweet, just like on the first day she had met him. Since then Marinette had considered him a friend, and she was thankful for his generally relaxing presence in her rather chaotic life. She liked hanging out with him to stroll around the city on his bike, asking him for his opinion on her new designs for stage outfits (he always loved them) or to just observe him as his guitar rested gently in his lap, his fingers cradling the strings and his eyes fluttering shut as he played out people’s hearts. Mostly hers.

So that hasn’t changed.

What had changed though was the amount of times he would cross her mind during the day, which had gone up significantly. Most of the time he would just randomly pop up in her mind for no apparent reason. She’d think about his kind eyes, his smile, the painted finger nails, his colorful hair, his music.

It had been innocent at first and Marinette hadn’t thought too much about it. Thinking about your friends wasn’t anything too unusual. Luka and her were friends.

Good friend even.

She liked thinking about him.

Maybe he even thought about her from time to time.

Because that's what friends do.

Until those thoughts changed. She didn’t know when exactly or how or why, but Marinette was pretty sure friends weren't supposed to wake up in the middle of a night from a dream where said friend wouldn’t cradle the guitar strings but her cheeks instead as he'd slowly lean down, because he was a head taller than her, close to brushing her lips moments before she'd wake up, her cheeks burning to the point where she had to step out just to cool herself down.

The first time there was an inital shock, obviously, and Marinette was considerably more flustered when Luka was nothing more than mentioned in a conversation. But after confessing her dream to Alya, her friend had brushed it off, explaining how that that ‚didn’t have to mean anything‘. Which was probably true, dreams were random and didn’t mean anything. However even that didn’t help her that much, because when she had come to the Liberty again after a few days and saw Luka, she immediately forgot about the meaninglessness of dreams and couldn’t think of anything but her dream, making her blush like crazy. Luckily she could blame the hot summer sun when Luka asked her what was wrong.

From there on, it kept happening.

She thought about kissing Luka more and more.

And it drove her insane.

Becausy why would she even want to kiss Luka?

He was her friend!

Plus, she still had her very real crush on Adrien, of which she'd be reminded by Alya and the rest of the girls ever so often. Even though that whole thing was sort of on hold as of recent now that he was sort of dating Kagami, she couldn't deny that she'd still feel like an electric shock went through her entire body every time their eyes met and he'd give her a quick polite smile.

Nothing about him has changed either. He was still the sweet, kind boy who had given her an umbrella the first day they met.

She should be thinking about him.

She should be dreaming about him.

She should be fantazising about kissing him.

But she didn't.

Marinette didn’t understand, until one day when Luka waited in front of the school forthe band. He had given her a genuine smile when he had spotted her, excitingly asked her about her day and replaced the electric shocks with shy little butterflies dancing in her belly. He’d stand at the bottom of the stairs, Marinette standing in front of him just one step up so they’d were on eye level. And while he told her about his day, she’d sometimes look down to his lips, just for a second, and let herself imagine what it would be like if she just leaned forward a little, because with the way they were positioned, she really wouldn’t have to do much more-

Oh.

Her eyes widened at the realization.

Oh.

Of course Luka had immediately noticed the blush spreading across her face, because it was honestly hard not to, and asked her if she was okay, like the concerned friend he was. And Marinette couldn’t do anything but stand there and frantically nod, not trusting her mouth to not do anything stupid. Like kiss him. Or tell him ‚Oh Luka, I was just fantazising about us smooching because I had a dream about that and also…‘

also...

It was at this point Marinette had to admit to herself.

Luka wasn’t a friend to her. He was something more.

Because friends didn’t have that desire to kiss their friends.

But she really wanted to kiss Luka.

Of course, being herself, Marinette knew she could never bring herself to just… go for it. Especially not out of the blue like that. And while she liked Luka, she wasn’t sure how he felt about her. Sure, he was more touchy with her than anybody else and he kept playing her song and he gave her compliments all the time and so much more...

But she couldn’t just kiss him, even though she wanted to.

Even though there had been multiple chances for her to do so.

Like that one time where Kitty section had organized a sleep over. She and Luka had cooked dinner together and at some point he had turned up the volume of the music and had started to dance. He wasn’t exactly a dancer so it looked more dorky than anything, but that hadn’t stopped Marinette from joining him. So they moved around the living room, daning and laughing, until Luka had grabbed her hands and had started to spin her around in circles.

And there was this tingling in her heart again every time Luka pulled her closer just to release her the next second. If she just got onto her tippy toes, she could’ve given him a quick peck on the lips next time he pulled her towards him.

But she didn't.

Another time she had helped him apply eye liner after he kept messing up his right eye. Of course she had offered help and than had found herself sitting in his lap, holding her breath as she drew the wing on his eye lid. She was thankful his eyes were closed because she would've never been able to explain her gaze dropping down ever so often and she had to swallow hard when his eyes fluttered open and Marinette couldn’t tear her gaze away. For more seconds than what was probably appropriate, she remained seated in his lap as Luka kept eye contact with her, not saying anything. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Just a small dip forward and she could've pecked his lips.

But she didn't.

Then there was the time when she had taken his measurements for stage costumes where she could've asked him to lean down just a little more.

Or when she had burrowed her face into his shoulders during a horror movie. She really wouldn't have had needed to move that much.

Or the countless times where they had been sitting on his bed, across from one another as he played her feelings out and she could've just taken the guitar to put it down and moved a little closer, tilting her head to finally act on what she was fantasizing about for weeks.

And yet she hadn't.

Which was probably for the better.

During all those moments, Marinette had wondered why Luka looked at her so intensly, why it was her of all people he danced with, why he always looked so content whenever he played out her heart. That had to mean something, right?

Then again

Luka was very supportive of her crush on another boy, after he had figured it out after their kind-of-sort-of-double date with Adrien and Kagami where Marinette had dragged Luka along so that it would be less awkward for her to be the third wheel.

He had been the one encouraging her to go and talk to Adrien.

He had given her nothing but support.

Would he actually react like this, if he liked her?

How would he have reacted of she hadn’t gone after Adrien, if she had taken the metro home with him? Would that have changed anything?

Well, it probably would’ve been the smater choice, because even when she got Adrien to stop the car and wait for her

she still hadn’t done any talking.

Kagami was onto something when she had noted how hesitant Marinette was.

So she kept the thoughts about his lips and the butterflies in her belly to herself. Kissing dream Luka was good enough after all.

Until Bob Roth had stolen Luka's music and Marinette's costumes.

And Luka got akumatized.

Before running off, he had gone up to her and had confessed his feelings to her, in his usual poetic way.

Which had turned her into a blushy mess and caused her to take a little more time before transforming into Ladybug, fight and deakumatize him.

Everything went back to normal, and she thought even more about kissing him. Because after such a confession, how could she not?

Just before he was about to go on stage, she asked him if he remembered what he said to her. What did it mean? Was it real? Did he feel that way about her? Did he really feel that way about her?

But he didn’t remember.

Instead he put a hand on her shoulder

and said it again. Word for word.

You're the most extraordinary girl, Marinette.

Clear as a musical note.

Sincere as a melody.

You're the music that's been playing in my head since the first day we've met.

And she was lost. Lost in his beautiful blue eyes, looking at her with so much appreciation and love, like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. Actually it wasn’t much different from all the other times he lad looked at her, but now, she didn’t have to wonder if she was just imagining things.

This was real.

He still had his hand on her shoulder and stared into her eyes.

She stared back.

And it felt like time had stopped.

She stood there, heart thundering in her chest, butterflies fluttering through her entire body, her mind racing from „Luka likes me?“

to „Luka likes me!“

to „… would he also like kissing me?“

Never before did she want to kiss him this badly.

If she just took one little step closer, she could tug his jacket, get on her tippy toes and pull him down just a little and finally feel his breath over her lips and slowly close his eyes before the’d both give in, feeling their lips move against each other…

Wait, how was she even supposed to move her lips exactly?

Oh god, what if her breath was bad?

Would she even be able reach him with how tall he was or would he have to slouch over? Would that even be comfortable for him?

Oh god, she was overthinking again!

… What was she supposed to do with her hands?

Oh god!

Come on, just go for it already! That’s what you wanted the entire time...

… But shouldn’t she at least ask him if he wanted it too?

Yes, that would be a good start.

She opened her mouth.

Then Luka gave her shoulder a little squeeze, his smile got wider and in this moment, withthe colorful stage light hitting his face, he looked even more mesmerizing.

The „Can I kiss you?“ died on her lips.

He whispered „Wish me luck“ before he retrieved his hand and took a few steps away, still holding eye contact as long as possible, until he turned around to walk on stage.

Her gaze followed him and her heart sank.

Kagami was right, all she ever did was hesitate. If she just didn’t question her every move and actually followed up on the steps she had gone through in her head. She still couldn’t go through with it, even after him literally confessing to her in such a beautiful way! And she didn’t even say anything back, just stood there like a deer in the headlight.

Luka was in love with her.

She had been in love with Luka.

And she almost kissed him. Almost.

How can this be so hard?

Disheartened, she walked over to stand next to the camera in order to get a better view.

Luka caught her eyes and before going into his solo, he gave her that same loving smile he had given her minutes ago. Her heart sped up again and couldn’t help but smile back.

He had still confessed to her!

Meaning that he actually might want to kiss her, too.

This hadn’t been her only chance. This was just the beginning of something new. There were more opportunities to come for her to stare. To hesitate. To feel. And finally, to be brave.

Feeling more optimisic, she prepared herself to ask Luka after the show. Judgind by the way he smiled at her, she had a feeling he might say yes.

Send me a number and I’ll write a short(ish) Lukanette fic!

#ml #ml fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #writing request #lukanette #pro lukamari #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #kissing prompts

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chorusfm · 7 months ago

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Wallows – Model

While creating their new album, Model, Wallows vocalist/guitarists Braeden Lemasters, Dylan Minnette and drummer/guitarist Cole Preston reunited with the Nothing Happens producer, John Congleton (St. Vincent, Sharon Van Etten), to craft what would be the songs for their third studio album. The band let the music flow right though them by allowing the songs to become the best version of themselves, while not forcing the direction. “Every song started with the three of us playing live in a room, keeping it very simple and sticking with our instincts as much as possible,” says Minnette. “We ended up leaving in a lot of the mistakes and flubs, so even though it’s the most slick we’ve ever sounded it’s also the most honest.” By sticking to their comfort zones, while still adding new elements to their sound, Wallows have made a memorable artistic statement on Model. The set starts off on the right foot with lead single, “Your Apartment,” that features a repetitive, spiraling guitar riff before drummer Cole Preston adds a unique beat to the track to round things out. The chorus of, “Who said I don’t understand / Or that I probably won’t remember / Time in the palm of your hand / We both let go together / But I promise, I get your sentiment / I wonder who’s been at your apartment / Would you give in, or would you relent? / Who’s been tryin’ to get in your bed?” recalls the dangers of trusting the wrong person in a relationship. Wallows are at their best when they trust their musical instincts and let the songs never overstay their welcome. “Anytime, Always” follows the raucous opener with a steady beat, and the sound is reminiscent of early-Weezer paired with the indie guitar-pop of Ash. The bridge features some hand claps that is sure to invigorate the crowds they’ll be playing too starting this August. ”Calling After Me” is one of the strongest songs on the album, even if it feels simplistic in its construction. Carving out a great guitar/pop song is an art form, and Wallows do it well. The shimmering guitar riff in the beginning of the track and in between the verses is well thought out, and lends itself well to the song. While the second verse of, “Don’t play dumb, I know you fantasize / You could have me on my back every night / I don’t mind the things that you’ve been doing / Think you need someone like me to get through it,” finds the vocalist conflicted in his role of being the one this person relies on to get through tough times. “Bad Dream” features some drowned out percussion in the mix, while some keys and guitars take center stage as the band harmonizes on the hook of, “Are you having a bad dream, baby? / Tossing, turning in our sheets lately / Are you having a bad dream, baby? / I want to wake you, but you won’t let me.” The middle section of Model picks up some steam on “A Warning,” that puts the spotlight directly on an electric bass line that reverberates off of the speakers. The second verse of, “Oh, I could’ve saw the spark in your eyes fading / All these steps that I’m retracing / Till I get lost, and time stops forever / Feel like I’m locked, but you’re not, you’re better,” recalls the signs of a relationship nearing its end, while the band still takes everything in stride. Other experimental songs like “I Wouldn’t Mind” are a bit of a mixed bag, with some strange time signatures and a bizarre vibe to it. Luckily, Wallows reach back into their comfort zone on “You (Show Me Where My Days Went)” that features bright-sounding guitars, paired with falsetto vocals on the chorus, to make for a worthy summer jam. “Canada” would’ve fit well on Wallows’ Tell Me That It’s Over record, as it has a familiar feel to the direction the band took on their sophomore effort, yet it still is welcome on Model since it mixes up the vocal cadence to avoid the trap of the songs sounding too similar. The gradual unfolding on “Don’t You Think Its Strange?” is a nice departure from the sound the band went for in the early stages of the record, while “She’s An Actress” has a… https://chorus.fm/reviews/wallows-model/

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laiqualaurelote · 6 months ago

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On the other hand, Charles Rowland is exactly the sort of person you’d expect to start a rock band.

The way Crystal understands it, Edwin didn’t even listen to rock before meeting Charles, and still doesn’t care for it really, but he taught himself electric guitar just so Charles could have someone to play with, and then, being Edwin, turned out to be better at it than pretty much everyone else. Edwin could probably play anything he put his mind to. Charles can play one thing: the drums. “Just hitting a lot of stuff quickly, innit? That’s what I’m good at. Hitting stuff.”

When Crystal first met Charles, she was torn between hooking up with him and joining his band. She’s eternally glad she chose the latter, though it was a near thing, because he jumped out of nowhere like a bad idea at a zebra crossing and Crystal is, unfortunately, all about that shit. She had her fuck-off headphones on at the time, so she watched him babble soundlessly for a while, Etta belting in her ears, and then finally took pity on him and removed them.

“—mad pipes, never heard anything like it, I just had to tell you. Also that you’re proper fit, but that’s a whole other conversation and we don’t have to have it if you’d rather not.”

Crystal hadn’t even realised she’d been singing along out loud to Tough Lover. She laughed; she couldn’t help it, there was something infectious about his cheerfulness. And he was cute. Mixed, like her, though more on the desi side of things. “Did you run all the way down the street to tell me that?”

“Yeah!” He bent over to catch his breath. “D’you want to join our band? My best mate and I are starting one, he’s a genius, proper prodigy, like, and if we got someone like you on vocals that would be brills.”

“Do you not know who I am?” At his blank expression, she sang a little bit of her first hit, don’t wanna get up, don’t wanna go to bed, just wanna live inside of your head. She’d forgotten how cringe it was, and so trailed off.

“I didn’t get to listen to a lot of music growing up,” said the boy apologetically. “Should’ve guessed you’re well famous, though. Anyway, cheers! Have a nice one.”

He was turning to slope back up the street when Crystal grabbed for his wrist. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Tell me more about your band,” she said, and watched his face light up.

It’s not hard, she’s learnt over the years, to make that happen, but she’ll always remember the time in Tragic Mick’s shop where they were tooling around in the section with the more unusual instruments, and she found him staring down at a pair of drums she’d never seen before. They were barrel-shaped, of slightly different sizes, laced with hoops and thongs around their sides.

“That’s a tabla,” said Charles quietly. “My uncle Krish had a set. I haven’t seen one since…well, since I last saw him. He’d show me how to play them when my mum brought me over to theirs. She used to dance kathak, you know — she had these anklets, covered in bells. He’d play and she’d dance.”

He fell silent after that. Crystal said, gently, “She doesn’t dance any more?”

“No,” said Charles. “No, ah, she stopped because she had me.”

“But I thought you said she’d bring you over to your uncle’s and—”

“Nah,” said Charles, too brightly, “nah, got it mixed up. Anyway my dad never got along with my uncle, so we don’t see much of him now. Think she gave the anklets away to a charity shop.”

Crystal marched over to Mick and said: “Is that tabla for sale?”

Mick squinted at her over the counter. “Ayup.”

“I’ll take it.”

Charles caught up with her. “Crystal, I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

Charles ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “I’m not fishing for charity or nothing. I don’t need—”

“Look,” said Crystal, “when I was five months old I got on the Billboard Hot 100 because my mom sampled a recording of me saying baby nonsense on a track that went viral. I have more royalties than I know what to do with. Now I want to buy a tabla.” And, as Charles continued to stare at her in anguish, “It’s for the band, right? Also I think it’s going to really piss Edwin off, and that I’d pay to see.”

Edwin was, indeed, extremely pissed that Crystal had bought Charles a gift. Later, though, they were fooling around in Jenny’s garage, Charles delightedly experimenting with drumming on the tabla with fingers and flat palm, Crystal scat-singing bluesily over his staccato rhythm, and she looked up to see Edwin watching them with an unusually soft expression on his angular face. After rehearsal he stepped into her path and said quietly: “Thank you. I do not think he would have accepted it from me.”

“I’m not trying to replace you, you know,” Crystal told him. “You’re always going to be his—” It was already clear to her what should go in that blank, but it was even clearer that it was not clear to either of them, so she settled for “—best friend.”

Edwin gave her a long, searching look, then carefully nodded. Then he went off to fuss about instrument storage.

(tagging @sweet-and-sour-sauce as requested!)

Oooh! Charles/Edwin, musicians/band/orchestra AU for the ask game? :D

thank you for the prompt! (from this AU ask game - it turned out more a Crystal POV but I think the fandom could use more of that)

“Edwin,” says Crystal, “if you take the fucking theorbo onstage I will kill you myself.”

Edwin folds his arms mutinously around the theorbo, which when stood upright on the ground is nearly as tall as he is. “But we need it for the sound!”

“You literally have a billion other instruments! Play those instead.”

“I do not literally have a billion instruments,” says Edwin. “I literally have three. Are we to have lugged the theorbo all the way to the club for nothing?”

“You did not lug the theorbo here,” Crystal points out. “Charles lugged the theorbo here, because he carries all your shit for you.”

“‘Course I do,” says Charles brightly. “Don’t bother me one bit.”

“Charles, you had to push his harpsichord all the way across Hoxton!”

“And the people of Hoxton loved it,” says Charles nostalgically.

Crystal sighs. “Either that theorbo is going onstage or I am, because there isn’t enough space on there for both of us. Literally.”

“I could stand on an amp,” ventures Niko, “and then there would be more room?”

“Niko, honey, you’re not standing on an amp.”

The door bangs open and Jenny sticks her head into the dressing room. “Why are you guys not ready?”

“Crystal and Edwin haven’t decided if we’re bringing out the theorbo yet,” says Niko. “Also, I’m still doing Edwin’s nails, and he can’t play until they’ve dried.”

Jenny throws her hands up in despair. “Why does Edwin have to have his nails done?”

“I think lilac really is his colour,” murmurs Niko, crouched over Edwin’s left ring finger. “Don’t you agree?”

Edwin, who is sitting primly on a flight case in the three-piece suit he insists on wearing to every show, gives Jenny a regal nod of assent.

“For fuck’s sake,” mutters Jenny. “I should never have agreed to manage you idiots. I could have had all my Friday nights in bed with a crime drama.” She inhales. “Anyway, we have a problem. David’s here. He’s in the front row.”

The world narrows. Crystal hates how just the sound of his name can do that to her, for all that it’s been months since she got out from under his thumb. “How’d he know—”

“I did put it all over Instagram,” says Niko anxiously. “Crystal, do you want to cancel, or—”

“No,” hisses Crystal. “No. I can do this. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Crystal,” says Edwin, “with all due respect, you are not fine. You are shaking.”

Crystal puts her head in her hands. “It’ll pass.”

She feels Niko’s arms go around her. Overhead, she hears Charles say: “Maybe I should just go out there now and knock his lights out.”

“Or I could stab him,” offers Jenny. “I’ve got the boning knife in the van.”

“We are not knifing my ex right before a show!” yells Crystal.

“Thomas could sort it out,” suggests Edwin. “It is his club, after all. I shall go speak with him.”

“Like hell you will,” Charles protests. “That arsehole won’t lift a finger to help.”

“He will if it’s me asking,” says Edwin. “Now come on. Do you want to play tonight or not?”

Edwin Payne is the last person you’d expect to start a rock band. Piano virtuoso, played his debut concerto at the age of eight, won the Liszt at twelve and BBC Young Musician at thirteen. Had it all lined up: scholarship to the Royal College of Music, orchestras queuing round the block to fling gigs at him. Then: unspecified breakdown. Vanished from public view for three years. As a former child pop star herself, Crystal gets it. Okay, so maybe whatever happened with Edwin wasn’t as extreme as drunk-driving your way into a fender-bender so dire that even your platinum award-winning parents couldn’t buy enough spin to keep you out of the tabloids. Anyhoo. The past is the past. Crystal’s living for the present now.

Of course, she was aware of none of this when she auditioned. As far as she knew, this band had one cute guy and one dickhead snob who clearly didn’t think any decent music had been composed since the 19th century, and who dismissed her CV with a snide “We’re not exactly looking for Hannah Montana here” — whereupon Crystal looked him dead in the eye and sang, pitch-perfect, the first verse of Caro Mio Ben. Edwin pursed his lips like his mouth was a vinegar distillery and said: “Hardly Bartoli, but I suppose she’ll do.”

Charles punched him in the shoulder. “Oi, mate, be nice.” To Crystal: “You’re loads better than Hannah Montana. Honestly I’m surprised he even knows who Hannah Montana is.”

Crystal could have walked then. She almost did. She was getting her life back together, out of her parents’ shadows and on her own terms; she didn’t need this shitty little band with its one-half shitty leadership. To this day she doesn’t know why she stayed. Maybe it was the open warmth of Charles’ grin, maybe it was the glint of challenge in Edwin’s eye — a heady combo of affection and spite bubbling up in her chest.

“So what’s the name of this band?”

“It’s aces, you’ll love it,” said Charles. “Spooky Action At A Distance.”

“That,” said Crystal, “is the stupidest fucking band name I’ve ever heard.”

“It is a quantum science concept,” said Edwin frostily, “not that I expect you to understand.”

“It’s sad,” Crystal went on. “Literally, its acronym is SAAAD.”

“I am beginning to regret this,” said Edwin in a too-loud aside to Charles. “Must we have someone on vocals?”

“Look, will you two just jam together one time? It’ll be aces, I promise.”

“So what does Little Lord Fauntleroy play then?” Crystal snapped. “Does he tinkle on the pianoforte after supper?”

Charles chuckled. Edwin arched an eyebrow at Crystal and held out his hand to Charles, who reached down behind them and pulled out a goddamn Fender Strat.

Edwin played a few experimental chords, tuning up, and then his fingers slid and it was Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, but not like Crystal had ever heard it, wild lightning runs of arpeggios where every note was somehow picked out with the clarity of blown glass. Crystal knew her jaw had dropped, which she seemed unable to do anything about at the moment. The guitar sang in Edwin’s hands, and he never once broke a sweat or eye contact with her.

“Holy shit,” she said when it was over.

“I quite agree.” Edwin flexed his fingers, then stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Allow me to formally welcome you to our little band.”

#guess I'm just rolling this out in bits as I come up with it #also today is one of those #'it's fun to be an immigrant of colour in the UK' days #so uh. here's some tabla #dead boy detectives #charles rowland #crystal palace #edwin payne #payneland #band au

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majestyeverlasting · 2 years ago

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Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon.

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar.

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with.

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?”

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down.

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note.

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance.

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins.

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.”

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words.

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn’t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease.

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely.

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours.

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had.

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.”

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.”

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again.

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage.

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair.

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips.

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long.

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.”

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest.

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car.

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you.

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths.

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.”

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star.

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice.

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged.

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away.

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.”

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down.

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new.

“Good night, Eddie.”

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air.

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased.

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed.

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene.

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question,

“What’s your deal?”

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself.

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door.

“Hi,” you say softly.

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.”

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask.

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again.

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it.

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.”

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint.

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over.

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done.

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.”

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.”

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.”

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending.

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control.

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.”

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true.

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins.

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?”

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends.

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie.

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world.

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered.

He nods.

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him.

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint.

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes.

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.”

You let your hand fall from his chest.

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.”

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever.

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long.

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours.

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right.

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display.

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again.

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away.

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end.

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.”

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?”

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir.

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it.

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture.

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it.

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more.

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him.

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good.

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come.

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand.

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light.

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction.

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be.

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself.

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear.

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?”

You nod.

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme.

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V.

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt.

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts.

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once.

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person.

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body.

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter.

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile.

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by.

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins.

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut.

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers.

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy.

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble.

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream.

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?”

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones.

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty.

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.

“What's wrong?” you ask.

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.”

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight.

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking.

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him.

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside.

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back.

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze.

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you.

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?”

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak.

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance.

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined.

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs.

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady.

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.”

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.”

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected.

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter.

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps.

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin.

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in.

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.”

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?”

Your stomach drops.

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.”

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him.

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips.

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept.

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together.

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension.

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.”

“How close?”

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—”

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?”

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs.

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly.

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him.

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips.

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly.

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.”

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.”

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach.

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit.

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes.

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies.

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices.

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.”

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you.

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.”

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

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asshlyyyy · 2 years ago

Text

Elvis (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Chapter 1

Before we jump into this, I just want to say... it’s been two days since I saw the movie... I- I didn’t know a movie like this can rekindle my love for Austin Butler in Zoey101. He may be ten years older then me but... if Elvis can do it (too soon?) then so can Austin.

Another thing I want to say is, the character sings songs that haven’t in a sense been published out yet. For example you’ll see Let’s Go Crazy and some ABBA songs here and there. We’re gonna pretend that the reader wrote this songs. Okay thanks! Enjoy!

Also, the reader does have set features and a name. Obviously you can still go ahead and change these with your name and features. Elvis is briefly mentioned, but doesn’t come into the story until the next part.

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Warnings: Terrible song writing

Word count: 3k

Tick

"Let's run it one more time," Raymond, your manager, leaned forward on the mixing console. His finger pressed against the speaking button as he looked your way. Your leafy green eyes peered over at him as you let out a sigh.

"Why can't we record something I like? These ballads... they... they aren't for me." You stated as you closed your small notebook. That very same notebook held lyrics to unfinished songs that you wrote.

"Well, this is what the studio is looking for, and your step-dad. We have to deliver." He explained. His free finger tapped away on an open surface. He was starting to get impatient with your attitude. Frankly, you didn’t care what William thought.

"How much longer do we have?" You asked as you ran your fingers through your hair. Ray looked over at the clock and thought for a bit before he turned back to you.

"About five," he replied.

"Then we're doing a song I want," You comment and stood up on your feet. You didn’t have any song in thought, but you would just wing it in the end.

"Haylo," Ray warned you as you picked up the electric guitar and placed the strap around yourself.

"Just trust me," You gave him a look as you made your way over to the microphone. You let out a breath and nodded. "Record me,"

Raymond shook his head in defeat and sat back as he hit the record button. You started to strum like never before. The tunes quickly filled your ears as you felt your voice take over.

You had listened to many songs since you've been born. All arranging in different genres, from jazz, blues, ballads, and rock n roll. If you named it, you would've heard it. Well... some were too slow for your liking... but that just fueled you to become an artist. You turned their already amazing songs and upped the tempo. You added your own flare. You praised those amazing artists for being able to write their own music.

You haven't even been able to write one complete song. You thought of lyrics but they never seemed to have worked together. So, you did what you did best. You mixed together lyrics from your favorite songs. Your voice reached heights you never could have imagined before. Your voice made sounds you never heard before.

As you finished your song you let out one last belt. You let out heavy breaths as you just realized what you had created. It was your own song, for the most part, and you just winged it! You fumbled over to grab your notebook to write down all the lyrics. You hummed the song in order to remember everything as Ray sat back in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he just saw, what he just heard!

Behind him stood Sam Phillips, he saw something in you just as he did with the man just a couple of months ago. It was all there. The energy, the love, the passion. You name it, it was present in what he just saw. Sam happened to be passing by when he heard your voice. Generally, he hasn’t seen a woman like you in here before, let alone hear how you sang. It was nothing like what he heard on the radio.

"Who is that?" Sam asked Raymond. He turned to look at Sam. Raymond was no stranger to Sam Phillips. With past clients that just didn’t work out. He’s been here before.

"Haylo Blakely," he replied. Sam nodded in response.

Raymond has been your manager for a while now. He was able to score you some small gigs with already existing songs. Of course, being only 18, your parents had to sign for you. And of course, your step-father William feels like he has a say in everything.

Thankfully, Raymond was focused on you. He made sure that in the contract, it was noted that he was there for you. He did the things you wanted to do. And while he took some suggestions from William, he always made sure it was okay with you first.

"Did you record that?" Sam asked as he looked over at you, where you were shakily writing down the lyrics.

"Yeah, she made me,"

"Let's get a band in here. That was great. Amazing in fact. I want to release it out to the world." Sam explained as he walked over to the phone that was hanging on the wall.

"I- sir, are you sure? Some people won't like this." Raymond tried to reason with Sam. It's not like he didn't want you to not get the record. He worried about what would come out of it. He wanted to make sure you kept a good image, mostly because it was your mother's wishes.

"A hundred percent!" Sam replied and hurriedly taped the number in. "Get her ready," Ray let out a sigh and once again hit the button for the speaker.

"Haylo, we're gonna run that one more time for Mr. Phillips. He's going to bring in a band and record it." Raymond's voice filled your ears. You looked up and over at him in shock. When did Mr. Phillips come in? He wanted you to record it for real? Was this your big debut you were waiting for???

"Yeah yeah- of course- I just need to finish writing down these lyrics." You replied back and tried to quickly finish writing the lyrics. Your hands were absolutely shaking at this point. Sure, the words ended up being chicken scratched down, but you knew what it read. That's all that matters in the end.

You didn’t really know what you wanted to be. In all honesty, you just wanted people to hear your music. Didn’t matter if you got famous or not. Sure the money would be nice, you’d be able to help people then. But you were just about to get a record of a song you just created on a whim! That’s absolutely crazy for you and you honestly couldn’t believe it. You were still processing it as the band came in. Did they just happen to be in the next room? They all seemed like nice gentlemen.

“Hi, you must be Haylo.” One of them said as he held out a hand to you.

“Yes, that’s me,” you smiled and shook his hand. “And you?”

“I’m Charles, I do the drums. That’s George he’s on bass. And lastly, that’s Paul, he’s on guitar,” he introduced the rest of the guys. You smiled and nodded at them.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said and shook all of their hands.

“Miss Brently,” a voice said over the speaker. You looked over at the window and saw Sam looking straight at you.

“Just call me Haylo,” you said with a smile.

“Of course," he nodded. "Haylo, I want you to explain to the boys what they’re be playing and we’re gonna go ahead and record it. I truly do believe people will love this. Love you in fact.”

“You really think so?” You asked, a smile on your face.

“I know so,” he smiled and sent a wink to you. A bit creepy, but you knew he meant it in an ‘I know it’ kind of way. You nodded at his request and turned to the guys.

“I kind of just made this up, so you’ll have to bear with me,” you softly said and picked up the guitar you were using earlier.

“You’re the boss. Just tell us what to play,” Charles said as he sat down by the drums.

“Okay well… it goes a little something like this,” You said softly and started to play the tune you were playing earlier. Your green eyes danced around the cords you played, trying to get the tune just right. It was an upbeat song. A rock and roll song if you will. However, since you had so many lyrics from different songs, it was kind of like its own genre.

As I got to the chorus the other guys jumped in and it all started to come together. The drums, the bass, the other guitar. It was sounding perfect, sure it was just some song you made up on the spot, but it was amazing. You smiled and nodded at them.

"I'm feeling it, I'm feeling it." You smiled and nodded. Every so often would hit against the body of the guitar to add to the sound. It was then when you pointed a finger at Ray to tell him to hit record. You got close to the mic and felt your mouth open.

From the other side of the glass, Ray hit the record and Sam was already smiling. He saw it all again. He could only imagine what you and that new young artist would accomplish together. You got into the music just as he did. Hw watched you sway from side to side. He watched the smile that was on your lips as you sang your heart out.

"I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start the flame in your heart. Maybe you'll sit and sigh, wishing I were near. Then maybe you'll ask me to come back again, and maybe, just maybe, I'll say maybe"

"Shhh-shoo baby, do-dah-doo-day. Shhh-shoo baby, do-dah-doo-day. Shhh-shoo baby, shoo-shoo. My papa's on his way across the seven seas. So don't you cry-hy, don't you sigh, goodbye"

"Since the Yankke came to Trinidad. They got the young girls goin' mad. Oh- oh-Honey child, (honey child) if I didn't care more than words that ever said. Honey, if this isn't love, then tell me, why do I thrill so much? If I didn't care, would it be the same?"

"Cause somewhere over the rainbow. Way up high. There's land that I heard of. Southern trees bear a strange fruit. Blood on the leaves and blood at the root"

"You met someone who set you back on your heels, goody goody, He was our boogie woodie bugle of the company B. He plays the boogie woogie budle. He was busy as a buzzy bee. He puts the boys asleep with the boogie night.”

"Let's go crazy (let's go crazy) Let's get nuts (let's get nuts) Let's look for the purple banana (let's look) Until they put us in the truck, let's go ('til they put in the truck) Let's go."

"Dr. Evething'll be alright. Make everything go wrong. Oh Ohh. Yeah, yeah, let's go"

You belted out that last note again as the instruments around you became quiet as it ended. Your eyes were closed and if you were being honest... you didn't want to open them. You didn't want to see the looks on people's faces. You were worried that they would just be bored with it. The guys behind you cheered and you smiled. You looked at them and nodded. The song was very crazy and clearly not the finished product but you loved it.

The lyrics didn't sound like anything from the originals. The way you quickened the pace and flowed together the lyrics, it's like the originals didn't exist anymore. You added something that they didn't have. Not to put down any of the original artists, you loved these sounds deeply.

"Haylo, you just got yourself a single," Sam spoke over the loudspeaker.

"Really?" You turned and looked at him shocked. "I mean, it's really rough and honestly needs a bunch more work but-"

"It's perfect just the way it is. People are going to love it and love you." You felt your face heat up. You weren't exactly expecting him to compliment you like that or even put your hopes up. The song wasn't that good and you knew that, but it had to be something if he wanted to get it out just like that.

"Well- Mr. Phillips if you really think so-"

"I know so," he went to turn around but paused. "That last bit, I want to see more of that." You nodded quickly and watched the band start to pack up their things. You just stood there in disbelief. You honestly couldn't believe it.

"Well, Haylo... I think your name is going to be popping up a bunch more," Raymond said with a smile. You smiled more and nodded. You put the guitar down and let out a light squeal and a spin.

"This is it, Raymond! This is my moment."

"Maybe it is, may it's not. Don't get your hopes up too much. I have to go over a few things with Mr. Phillips first... I want you to get packed up and head outside. I'll meet you there when I'm done." You nodded at your manager's request and went to pack up your things.

You grabbed your bag and headed outside to the front of the building. You looked around at everyone walking around and just thought that some of these people would be hearing you soon on the radio. It was like a dream come true to you. You couldn't believe it. You thought back to your biggest inspiration.

You grew up in a small town, very poor in fact. You didn't have a very big house, but you guys made do with what you had. You remember your mother singing to you every night before bed and your father occasionally joining in when he could. Yet, your parents weren't the only inspiration. You had an older sister who watched you for the most part. When your father was out working and your mother doing things around the house... Your sister watched you.

She would sneak books from the school to show you things, and you loved every minute of it. You would then run out to tell your neighbor what you just learned. The older blond blue-eyed child. He always had a thing for music. You saw it in his eyes. His mother was the sweetest person on earth as well, and yours and his family often times helped each other out.

You don't remember his name or much more about him. Your family moved once you got a bit more money to Memphis and jumped around since. You guys were currently situated in a two-bedroom one-bathroom unit for the longest time. You guys lived in a neighborhood where there were very few people of your skin tone, and it didn't bother you much. Just because their skin tone was a different color meant nothing to you. Some of your best friends didn’t even share the same tone of color, but it bother you none. They were still humans.

Though, when your mom got married to the mayor he was quick to move you guys out. While your sister stayed in the apartment with her husband, you jumped from each place. You knew when you wanted to record you would stay at your sister's, but for the most part, William dragged you to his. Of course, you wanted your mother to be happy, but when you were all forced to move to his house you hated it. You hated how far you were from your family. The house was overly big and you didn't want it like that.

Yet, you wondered where that boy was now. You hoped he and his family were doing well. You wondered if he was still singing or was even in love with music still. He was a great boy, technically he would be a man now... but still. Part of you missed him, even if you didn't remember him.

"Alright, Mr. Phillips said we just need a title and he'll do the finishing touches and it should be out on the radio in a couple of days," Raymond said as he came up to you.

"A title?" You didn't even think about that. Did you need to name the song? You couldn't even write lyrics to songs how could you title a song?? Not to mention the song has so many different songs in it... it's just... how would you even title something like that.

"Yeah, you know... a name to slap on it. You hit on a bunch of famous songs so, it's gonna be a tough one." Raymond explained and put his sunglasses on.

"Right... um..." You looked around for any inspiration. "Everything'll be alright," you spoke and looked at him.

"Yeah? I suppose that can work." Raymond thought about it for a bit. "Yeah," he nodded.

"It's good?" You asked hopeful. You don't even think you would be able to think of anything else.

"Yeah, you hit on some big topics, so it makes sense. I'll give Mr. Phillips a call tomorrow and we'll get it slapped on a record." You smiled wide. This was honestly the best moment to have ever happened in your life, and you graduated high school.

"He wants us in tomorrow at noon. He'll go over a few things and then he wants you to meet someone." He said and started to walk to his car. You followed after him to continue listening. "There he wants you to record that new song, and potently a duet of some sorts."

"A duet? Like when two people sing together?" You questioned. Raymond nodded answering your question.

"Yeah, he thinks you and this other lad will mix well together."

"Does he have a name?" You asked.

"He does, but he didn't want me to say anything," He explained as we came up to his car. You nodded and looked at him.

"Right,"

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Be safe." He looked at you with a serious look.

"I'm always safe," you smiled innocently. Raymond just shook his head in response.

#austin butler elvis #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis #austin butler #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #austin butler x reader

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sourstrawberriezz · 2 years ago

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Hi!!! I normally don't send requests (don't even know if I'm at the right place lol). Anyways, I'm wondering, could you right something about the reader being good friends with Emily and also a guitar player? Like an enemies to lovers thing with Hunter 'cause she caught his attention?!

Bye!!

Of course I can! I absolutely love this idea- (Thank you so much for the request btw!)

After your fifth period class was over, you headed to the cafeteria to have lunch with your childhood best friend, Emily. You took your seat across from her and started up a conversation. “Then I was all like ‘give me my favorite guitar pick back!’ and he wouldn’t! Moral of the story, Skip Hoffman absolutely sucks.” You finished with a sigh.

“Wait hold on just a moment-! Did you get the pick back? I know you treasure that one since you got it at that Metallica concert a few years ago.” Emily replied with concern about your favorite little piece of plastic. “Oh! Yeah, that Clay Moss kid from Molley Coddle got it back for me.” You smiled taking the pick from your pocket and showing it off to Emily.

“Enough about me, what is going on with you? Anything interesting happening?” You asked with enthusiasm. “Wellll.. I got a boyfriend! Or, at least I think we’re dating.” Emily answered with a light blush on her face. You, on the other hand were left jaw dropped. “What!? Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?” You quietly shouted while whipping your head around looking for your best friend’s mystery boyfriend.

“Oh my goodness (Y/n)! Stop trying to look for him!” Emily’s scottish accent really showed when she got flustered. Then your eyes locked with a pair of bluish green eyes partially covered by long brown hair. ‘This isn’t weird right? No! It’s not weird because he was staring first!.. I think.’ You thought to yourself as he broke the stare and quickly turned back around.

After school, you went to one of the music practicing rooms to play your electric guitar. You kept your door cracked open a bit so that you could have playing competitions with Emily. Down the hallway you could hear the cello through Emily’s barely open door, so you played a riff that you’ve been working on for a while. What you didn’t know was that your audience wasn’t just Emily, but also Hunter Sylvester. He had drove to the school to pick up Kevin since he drove him there. On his way to find Kevin, he found your passionate guitar playing instead. He peeked through the window of the door and saw your head thrown back while absolutely shredding that guitar.

He was mesmerized. He’s never seen such love, hard work, and commitment put into an instrument before except whenever he plays. “Metal..” He mumbled before you finally finished. Hunter snapped himself out of his trance and continued down the hallway to retrieve his best friend.

*The next day*

“Hunter please! You have no idea how much she shreds! Just give her a chance.” Kevin practically begged Hunter to give Emily a chance to be Skull Fucker’s bass player. “Oh my fucking god fine Kevin.” Hunter gave in rubbing his temples. Kevin texted Emily and she said she could go to Hunter’s, but today was also the day you and Kevin would meet. Kevin told Emily to just bring you along, and that she did.

Here you were, in the Sylvester house’s basement, accompanied by Emily, Kevin, and Hunter. You were beyond shocked as you heard Hunter tell Emily that she can’t be in the band just because she plays cello. Hearing him degrade your friend pissed you off badly. “Y’know what Sylvester, Emily doesn’t need this band if you won’t accept her for the damn instrument she plays! So you two will see us at the battle of the bands next Friday cracking skulls.” You confidently stated as the room went quiet. All eyes were now on you, but you didn’t budge on your decision. “Kevin it was nice to meet you, can’t say the same for your friend though. Let’s go Emily.” You said as you grabbed the horrified girl’s hand and left.

You and Emily came up with the name Bloody Locket, and for the next week you spent all of your time practicing with Emily, arguing with Hunter at school, and making sure everything was perfect for the battle of the bands. It was happening in two days, so your brain was going haywire. Emily assured you that everything would go great, but you couldn’t help but overthink.

‘What if I play the wrong chord? What if a string snaps? Oh my god, what if I forget the whole song!?’ You thought to yourself. Emily noticed your change in mood the past week, and was getting really worried. She also noticed how much more serious you were about this than she was. Emily was taking this seriously and was going to try her best, but she wasn’t stressing out like you had been the past few days.

*Two days later*

Here you were getting antsy backstage at the battle of the bands. Emily had filled you in yesterday about how Hunter was sent to rehab, which equally surprised you. It also opened your eyes a bit. Hunter dealt with his own struggles and issues, so why were you even being rude to him in the first place? Well it’s because he was shitty to your best friend.. but he apologized. Okay, it’s because uhm, uhhh.. you don’t actually know. He just returned the mean behavior every day so you just went with it. In reality, there’s really nothing to be mad at him for anymore.

After finishing arguing with yourself in your head, you walked over to Hunter who was also backstage, and decided to apologize. “Hey Hunter?” “Huh? Oh uh hey (Y/n).” He replied awkwardly not knowing why you’re talking to him in a calm manner. “I just wanted to say-” “Actually I have something important to tell you. (Y/n), you are so metal, it’s fucking insane. The first time I saw you play, something happened to me because of how much passion you put into that guitar. At first I had no clue what it was, but- I- I thought it was that I hated you I guess? I later found out it wasn’t that I hate you, but actually the opposite. Look, I just want to tell you that I’m sorry for how I acted and that I really like you.” Hunter finally finished. “That.. was pretty much what I was going to say, but you already spoke for the both of us so..” You heard Molley Coddle getting cheered for indicating they were done with their song, so you and Emily were up now. (I’m sorry I don’t know what to put here-)

*1 week later*

A lot of things can change in a week ya know? You and Hunter were now together, you had merged your bands after the battle of the bands, and now you’re in his basement practicing songs with your favorite people. Things couldn’t be better.

(Hey guys! I’m so sorry this took so long to get out, but I finally finished it! I hope you liked it!)

#fanfic #metal lords #hunter sylvester #emily #kevin schlieb #x reader

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septembersghost · 2 years ago

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need you to know everything in this reply is perfect to me 😭

the johnny cash comparison is SO good, i'm glad you said that! i was discussing this with my mom the other day - in some of his later tracks and performances, you hear him leaning more and more into the country roots, and it's fantastic. (idk why this is the example that popped into my head, but take songs like "don't think twice, it's all right," at its core it’s still quintessential elvis, but he's evolving and experimenting/maturing too). even earlier with the memphis sessions, the blue eyed soul and country sounds are crystalline. as the rock of the 80s transitioned more into the subgenres like metal and grunge, country started to fuse some with both pop influences and a resurgence of southern rock (i was thinking about how roy orbison had a revival in the 80s as well). i just feel like so many things were happening sonically and with the songwriting in that world that elvis would've been perfectly suited for.

"He was reaching a point in his life where he could reflect on everything he'd gone through and turn it into meaningful, spiritual art that I think would have been very satisfying for him creatively." *nods* i'll cry if i think about this too much because! it would've been amazing and he deserved to have that...

"he had kind of a perfect vibe and voice for some of the later '70s and '80s megamusicals." YOU GET ME. i keep thinking about this!!! the rock influenced musicals were very different from what came before and i'd just be so interested to know what he would've thought of them and if he'd have gravitated towards any of that music.

"I think all the time about an alternate history where ALW is like thinking about rock influences and ends up casting him instead of Steve Harley for Phantom of the Opera initially." shared brain cell because this is exactly what i was fantasizing about too. el's voice on the original cut of the title track, with the electric guitars? *___* ugh it would be spectacular. I'VE HEARD THIS SONG (oh jungle room sessions...) BUT DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS ALW/TIM RICE I'M LOSING MY MIND?

"it also sometimes makes me feel sick if I think about it too much because of how easy it is to ignore the people in our lives or celebrities in our culture who are hurting and need love. It is easier to love the dead because they are made into images again." same. i know you've seen me mention this, but it truly is something i grapple with over and over again regarding love and reverence for these figures who sometimes seem to transcend mortality, and the way we love them being...indirect? yet no less true, and always deeply personal. (and of course you are VERY right about the people directly in our lives as well.) it's often hard to parse. with celebrity culture, the reason why i find myself curious and invested with the artists i admire as people is that it's the only way in to dispel that flat dimension of the image in some small way. finding out about their foibles and hurts, along with the extraordinary talents and successes, it doesn't diminish them for me, it clarifies that humanity and i find it makes me cherish what they created even more. the dead can be perfected and polished, but only holding that aspect reduces the complex and still beautiful tapestry of who anyone was. and demanding perfection is so futile, people are far too layered for that. there will always be separation because of course we can't be close to them directly - or like, you and i couldn't love and celebrate el when he was alive, since we weren't yet alive - but the best we can do is lend them compassion for their humanness while celebrating their art, remember they were vulnerable and real, and not only that glimmering icon, but we can still have stars in our eyes over them too.

that quote of ann-margret's is true and breaks my heart. my mom was telling me how the news of his death went around campus instantly, and everyone, fan or not, knew who who he was and shared a similar shock, but she also remembers how quickly it turned cruel. he's been done so many disservices, but the caricature that certain aspects of our culture turned him into with an almost gleeful malice at points is just devastating to me? i don't know how people could be giving these glowing eulogies and re-examining his legacy and asserting his gifts and artistry while in the same breath relegating him to that the way they did. he deserved so much better for so long.

something i also consider a lot is...i feel when someone dies tragically, we too often view the prism of their life from that point, as if it defines everything else, but it shouldn't. the sorrow can be acknowledged and wholly felt without blotting out the triumphs and joy - it's like we need to do better to remember the life, the spark of that person, which is where the real soul of them resides.

"it's so important to restore their humanity to them and to carry those memories forward, but on the other hand, sometimes the image, hard as it was to live up to, was the gift they wanted to give to their fans, something that they created and shaped specifically to bring others joy. So those creations become so much more precious to us when they are all we have, and it's almost like the effort falls to us now, after they put so much work and love into their art, to receive it and protect it and use it as a way of knowing them better." you phrased this beautifully. yes. it's that constant dichotomy, to recognize and empathize with the humanity, with the fact that they were real, flesh and blood people, and yet to treasure and protect the beauty and gifts they gave us that do feel somehow larger than life and miraculous, and remain incandescent.

in a timeline where Elvis had been in good health and lived longer or even was still alive! what do you think might've happened with his career?

this is a great question, and i love it despite it also making me unspeakably sad. obviously so many things would have to change for this to happen, and there are endless hypotheticals that can be asked about him - what if he'd gotten, and been willing to accept, help with the pills and his other struggles, what if he hadn't been trapped in vegas, what if he'd left parker, what if he had had the chance to make dramatic pictures and choose/record more music that inspired him rather than the movies and soundtracks he ended up having to do for so long, what if he hadn't been drafted, what if his mother hadn't died when she did - any one of these changing potentially changes the whole course of his life. but let's say nothing is different except he's healthier and survives. keep in mind elvis would've only been 45 in 1980, and, all things being equal, his voice would still have been strong and clear and beautiful. i don't think he's the type of person who ever would've wanted to stop creating and performing. the 80s gets us into an interesting time with music, disco fizzles out, a bunch of fresh rock and pop and country sounds rise and flourish, hip-hop begins to enter the mainstream. another big thing that happened was the revitalization of broadway, with particularly flashy, sweeping musicals. barbra streisand, who'd primarily been recording various forms of pop as it shifted for a good decade or so, along with her successful film soundtrack music, returned to her roots and released the broadway album in 1985 (one of my albums of all-time), when el would've been 50, and it was seen as a gamble, but turned out to be a huge hit. elvis may not have been a musical theatre performer in that sense, but he had a natural affinity for drama and flair, so it'd be cool to know if he would've taken to any of that or incorporated aspects of it (in my head, he'd totally enjoy the phantom of the opera). the rock sounds, the r&b, the fusions in pop and country, all of that would've piqued his interest, i think, because he was so passionate about music and was so skilled (and such a sponge for it across genres) at adapting it. so he could've experimented with new sonic forms, kept expanding his abilities and repertoire. i'd love to imagine that he'd have flown away out of vegas and finally gotten to tour the way he wanted. i even think he would've added innovation to the culture and music happening at the time. if he'd remained well and found creative outlets that inspired him, it's something he could've kept going on and building for a long while. i feel certain he would've done more gospel records too eventually, while still staying current at the same time. i imagine any of that would've somewhat altered how his legacy has been viewed, especially the wrongfully disparaging commentary. maybe he'd be like some of the other artists we've seen, paul, elton, bob dylan, billy joel, and so on, and kept playing well into his 70s. maybe eventually he'd have retired instead and taken time for himself (and you asked career specifically, but i hope he could've found some personal peace and love that he kept looking for too), but...part of me really does think he never could've left making music or being onstage and sharing that love and energy with an audience, as long as he was able. he would've found those songs to keep singing. which is what he did do in life. if only he'd had more time.

kind of off-topic/an aside, but i honestly believe he'd be so, so touched, and so amused regarding some things (i simply know he'd dissolve into that contagious laughter), that the young women on the internet, even a generation behind me, (after i explain the internet to him, i will tell him <3) are listening to and watching, and writing and reading about, and making countless fanvids and edits/gifs/etc for him in 2023. i hope in 2027, when he's been gone for fifty years, all the fans right now, new and old alike, still hold onto part of what they're currently experiencing. there's something indescribably wholesome about it (even in the thirst posting tbh, because it's still his power?!). i just cannot fathom any current star having this effect decades later, including the ones i adore. not because they aren't great, not because they aren't creating wonderful, lasting work, they undoubtedly are, but so much has shifted in how we absorb and keep and pass that on which alters it along the way. elvis' status as the best-selling solo artist of all time could *maybe* be broken eventually (although it's not in the foreseeable future), but it won't actually be comparable because streaming and everything within the industry has vastly changed. another difference, unfortunately, also lies in the tragedy. i hope our current young musicians have long careers and carve out happy, peaceful lives free of as much of that torment as possible, but the immense sadness and mythic rise and fall of it all are why we culturally still cling so much to certain people - as i've oft mentioned with EP, MM. to those eternally young and heartbreaking figures. if they'd experienced recovery, and lived the long, contented lives we wish they had, would we be this captivated by them now? or do we look into the abyss of their absences and hold them closer to keep them alive, to understand and feel that connective empathy? it's deeply human nature to be drawn to trying to understand the shadow of that darkness chasing their light. we want them to live and we can't give it to them, so we find ways to bring them to life instead.

i wish he was here to know how beloved he is, and i wish he was here because it would mean the trajectory of his life was far more gentle. i wish he was here to laugh with us about it and see us singing and dancing along to his music as if it was brand new, but i do believe he often looks down at us like:

#elvis presley #joons #chelsea 🥺💔💗💗💗

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bts-trash-blog · 4 years ago

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Best Of Us

Prologue:Story Introduction

Summary: Being an Omega is hard, it could be so lonely. The hardships that you would sometimes feel seemed to much, always expected of things you could never fully reach. Always seen as a piece of meat to some, seen as weak and stupid. So you worked your ass off to finally work your dream job. And the world all changed when you met one of the bosses. And couldn't help but end up falling.

Paring: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby OmegaReader

Warning: A/O/B!VERS, mentions of sexual harassment, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, angst, possessive behavior, more warnings will be added as needed.

An: Trying something diffrent with intrducing this story to you guys! This story over all, is going to be a diffrent experinces as it goes along for you guys. I can’t wait for this story to progress, and can’t wait for you guys to read.

...._.NEXT

Being an Omega was hard, being a female Omega born from an Alpha base family was harder. Though you were lucky, your family loved you. Your father an Alpha and mother a Beta, they both had no clue how to go about raising an Omega. When you presented at 16, you were a surprise to them, your mother trying to stick close to you during your heat though she had no way to help you. But they tried. They did anything and everything that they could do to help you.

Your father during these five days, had dragged himself to Omega classes for non omegas, to learn about your sub-gender. He had taken fucking classes, to learn how to help you adapt to your new senses. Things he had no clue about. When you came out of your heat haze, and was greeted with protein and fat filled food you had felt comfort. Especially when your father has wrapped you in a blanket that smells like him and your mother. Soothing your omega more. When you learned of your father taking classes you had cried, which had surprised the shit out of both him and your mother since you had barely cried over anything.

From that day on, your life changed.

You lost friends, and grew distant from certain family members that gave you the creeps your parents even followed your omega intuition which you learned later in life that not many families do. Your father grew more protective, your mother filled with more worry, doting over you making sure you were eating the right amount of everything. You figure changing drastically, hips wide, breast had grown full and your thighs and stomach had thickened up. Though you felt gross, your parents reassured that you were beautiful, and that your subgender was just making sure you were healthy.

Over the years, you had grown accustomed to the eyes that would linger on your curved frame, friends leaving in fear of their partners wanting you instead of them. The only friends you had were other omegas, who knew what you felt. It was nice knowing who really had your back, who was really your ride or die in this world. You honestly were now just waiting for the right mate, or pack, to come in and love you. Choose you.

You went to school but it was close enough to your home that you could still live with your family. Hence why you probably hadn’t found anyone even remotely interested in you, though you know it wasn’t necessary they didn’t find you attractive or didn’t crave the omega scent that twisted with your own. Your scent didn’t drive the crazy. Didn't make their Alpha scratch to claim you.

So you waited.

As you waited, you worked your ass off to prove that your subgender status did not define how smart, and determined you were. It was a struggle when you were applying to colleges after high school. They weren't the typical schools that omegas go to, the ones that taught omegas how to build a home or to teach them for educational purposes. No they were for music and business, odd looks and even professors judging you as you walked into a Beta and Alpha filled class had your head spinning at their pheromones. Yet you pushed through it, you proved yourself in class after class. Lecture after lecture. Wanting to show that you knew what you were doing, that music was a true love of yours.

You had always loved music, your mother having been a music teacher for some extra cash in the house. So the soft sounds of piano keys or the strum of a guitar, the sting of a violin was always heard and played throughout your home. It had made you curious, your head peeking into the spare room watching child after child play. Till one day your mother called you in. The feeling of the cold piano keys against your fingers as you slide onto the piano stool, your finger pressing the smoot keys as a simple melody you heard your mother student play echo out making your mothers face light up. From that day on, when your parents couldn’t find you, they made the house silent to hear the simple yet sharp keys play, slowly growing more and more bold as you aged. Smile bright on their faces.

You still remember that day. It was like any other, your father was driving you to campus the two of you talking lightly about the movie you had gone and watched with your friends you had made in school. A loud and crazy pair of Omegas, Lisa and Bambam. You were laughing about the moment Bmabam had dropped the popcorn onto an attractive Alpha when it happened. The jerk of the car, blaring of a horn and the bright lights of the other car. You remember the pain in your neck, the feeling of something dripping from your head as you opened your eyes to see your fathers head slaked to the side, the last memory you have of him. You remember calling out for him, arm stretching out to him but wincing and dropping in pain, so much pain you had blacked out. When you woke up, you were met with a dim light and the beep of a heart motter, your mother practically on the bed with you clutching to your fathers jackets. Her face was sunken in, under her eyes were blue yet the edges were red with an irritated look, when she felt you shift she had bolted up and looked at you with wide eyes, filling with relief. When the words pasted her lips after a few questions with your doctors, her hand smoothing down your hair as you shook your head. Your father had died on impact.

The piano sound stopped playing, the sharp keys that you had learned with your soft voice had stopped the day your father passed away.

You switched major to just business, music fading from you as you worked but your work ethic never deflated.I n fact your ethic seemed more driven, you pushed yourself harder and pushed yourself to limits you never thought you would reach. It worried your mother from time to time, walking into your room, your fathers blanket wrapped around your shoulders, body bent over crossed legs passed out. She had even seen you work on a paper during your heat, in between waves of pain. You worked your way past every obstacle that was in front of you, jumping through hoops and dodging everything thrown at you. You reached your senior year without a hitch after your fathers passing, your mother was proud even more so when you had fallen into an internship at one of the most reptile companies in the world. Min&Jung

They were two of the most powerful men, and Alphas in the world. They had worked from the absolute bottom and had built one of the biggest electrical manufacturing companies. Have an Apple product? A smart t.v? They were the reason it was functioning. Your teacher had helped you get the interview, she loved how persistent you were and how you always pushed yourself further and further. And somehow after your first interview, you had another, then the final one with their personal assistant. Out of thrifty other students they chose you. Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok had chosen you.

Little did you know that their choice alone would change your life forever.

Tag List:

@kth-kpoplover @alex4243 @malyxsoulpersonal @purelyecstacy @ryuyalana

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bdayjamie · 3 years ago

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Happy Birthday James!!!!!!!!

It’s 7am, no need for an alarm because Sirius is already shaking him yelling in his ears. James opens his eyes, wakes up, he’s finally 20, finally, officially stepping into adulthood. The first thing he sees is his best friend, eyes full of glint, grinning from ear to ear. “I’M UP!” is the first thing he says and then they both start screaming and laughing, jumping on his enormous bed.

Today is going to be a good day he tells himself, no bad thoughts.

He takes his phone and puts on Paramore’s self titled album, Sirius and Remus got him the tickets a while ago as a surprise and they’re seeing them live with Peter tonight. Music. It’s something he’s been getting more into since Regulus had to leave for Paris, because it reminds him of Reg. Because he can’t stop thinking of Regulus whenever “Still into you” starts playing. God he misses him. But it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for Reg: the Paris Opera as a ballet dancer. He is happy for him he is! But God he misses him. Reg couldn’t come back to London for his birthday because of his training, which he is absolutely not sad about, absolutely not.

“He’ll be back soon i promise” Sirius says. James got lost in his thoughts again “Now GET UP!”

His birthday, as always is amazing, he spends it, as always with his friends and his family. He also falls in love for the second time today. With the red electric guitar his parents got him. It’s so red, so bright, so James. And the more time passes the more excited he gets for Paramore.

They’re waiting in line, they’re going to be front row because Peter the Paramore fan en chef has been camping there since the day before. He wishes Reg was th- No. No he’ll be back when he can.

They finally get in, the show starts, “Fast in My Car” is playing loud in his ears. Hayley is amazing with her red hair shining. He could definitely pull off the hair colour he thinks for the millionth time — if his mother actually let him. “The Only Exception” is playing, it reminds him or Reg again so much it hurts, he’s been thinking of him all day to be honest. Because maybe if he thinks hard enough, he’ll materialise here and there, magically appear in front of him.

And it’s kind of what happens because for James, Regulus would rather miss a training and get yelled at by his professor than miss the birthday of the person who looks at him like he’s the only thing in the world, like he is — literally — a star. He got a train ticket last minute. He’s late because his professor is actually a cow and she didn’t let him go until he finished practice. He’s at the venue, anxiety going up through the roofs, exhausted from running everywhere. He takes a deep breath and starts sneaking in between people trying to find a tall guy with jet black messy hair. James is there, staring at the red haired singer. He pushes people more and more, they’re getting annoyed at him but he doesn’t care. James is right there but he hasn’t noticed him yet, he is completely mesmerised by the stage and Reg loves it so he looks at him, stares at him a bit more. So it can be a memory he’ll look back on very fondly. Like each memory he has of James.

But when our fingers interlock Can’t deny, can’t deny you’re worth it

So Regulus does it he reaches for James’ hand and James interlocks their fingers instantly as if he’s been waiting for him.

James turns around and Regulus is here. Obviously he is here, flesh and blood. “You’re here” he says and then in no time, to be rational, to process anything, he takes the boy’s face in his hands and kisses him. He kisses Regulus between smiles and giggles and screaming and shouting. “WHAT THE FUCK” he then yells. “I told you i’d be back as soon as i can” Regulus replies. He kisses him again and again and again, his friends are screaming next to them. This is it, James thinks there’s nothing else that i need. The music is so loud, his friends are there, his Reg is there. Nothing else.

“BABY NOT A DAY GOES BY THAT I’M NOT INTO YOU” he yells into Reg’s mouth.

Absolutely nothing else.

#james potter #harry potter #marauders #marauders era #jegulus #regulus black #happy birthday james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #paramore #lgbt #oneshot #marauders oneshot #hp oneshot #fanfiction

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issaxcharlie · 4 years ago

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We say we're friends, we play pretend (1/2)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on the bootcamp of JATP and have to work together. Will something else happen or they are just friends?

Charlie must have imagined something like this could happen. Since Kenny discovered her 5 years ago, she has been a really close friend to the director, participating in some way or another in almost all his projects.

In front of him after years, Y/N Y/L, his childhood best friend and ex-girlfriend. The young actor is not going to admit that he saw every single one of her projects or how moved he was by her in each one of them, many times even thinking of maybe sending her a little message saying the incredible job she did.

But he never found the courage.

It’s weird to remember how he spent most of his life next to the woman, now one of the top youth artists with multiple musicals and movies on her hits list. They always had a strong bond, every single day together. Sleepovers, music classes, dancing classes, homework, parties, movie nights, hockey, illness days, pretty much everything. At the age of 15 they began a very sweet and innocent relationship that ended at 18 when Y/N moved to New York to work in her first leading role.

The break up was on good terms but painful, so painful that both preferred to lose contact completely than to have the other from time to time opening the wound again and again.

And there she was. As beautifil as ever, speaking happily with Kenny while Madison and Owen jump up and down, Jeremy smiles and Charlie looks like he wants to throw up.

“Y/N Y/L, my golden star. She is the official composer of the soundtrack, and she will be supporting you throughout the album process as well as helping Paul and me in other creative aspects, I know she is the same age as some of you but she has a lot of experience in this and all the necessary preparation so don't hesitate to get all the knowledge you can out of her."

Everyone introduces themselves until the guitarist is the only one left, luckily for him, he’s in voice rest these two weeks so he literally cannot speak.

They both look nervous but the moment their eyes meet their complicity comes out and both smile slightly.

“He’s Charlie, he is in voice rest but we are fans of yours. We cried yesterday watching your last musical, it was just brilliant." Owen lets out hardly breathing, Y/N turns with a smile to see the Canadian boy who wants to kill his friend and then commit suicide.

“Thank you! This is going to be such an interesting experience.” The singer murmurs as she winks at Charlie.

2 hours later they had both been avoiding each other, Y/N writing in a corner while the band and Kenny discuss costumes with Soyon, in which at least half an hour has been wasted trying to understand what Charlie is trying to say with the few words he writes with an apple pencil on his ipad in his horrible handwritting.

Y/N gets frustrated and goes to where they are, approaching behind Charlie's shoulder to see the iPad. She quickly identifies the two words, one so crossed out that it looks like a doodle, but years copying each other's homework pays off.

"He's trying to say that if Luke isn't going to wear bandanas, at least consider wearing beanies." The young woman says as she leans on the shoulder of who was her first love.

Charlie freezes at their proximity, blushing a little at the feeling of being close after so long. Luckily his castmates don't realize it because all their attention is on her.

“You are just good for everything huh? Even deciphering hieroglyphs." Owen comments, smiling at her and winking exaggeratedly to make her laugh.

Charlie can't help but feel insecure with the situation. It could be a friendly thing but If Owen really tries to flirt with her, he doesn't know how he would react. Is sad enough not having her in his life anymore, having her as his best friend's girlfriend would just be too painful.

Now, he knows he’s exaggerating, and a lot. But he has to do something about it. Better safe than sorry.

He stretches his neck to meet the eyes of his ex-girlfriend, who is now only inches away. She quickly gets flustered, but hides it pretty well. The problem is that he knows every gesture perfectly and sees through her mask.

“Wh- What, Gillespie?” She manages to say, Charlie can’t help a smile seeing the way she still reacts towards him.

When you know a person completely, every facet, every gesture, every peculiarity, speaking without words is as natural as breathing. And they had both forgotten how amazing it feels to have someone in your life who is this compatible and magnetic.

They start a conversation, she answers to who secretly still believes as her person while he continues making gestures and mimics that no one else understands, writing a word from time to time to make the talk flow better.

"I know. Hey, it's not my fault! So you excuse yourself with the ‘can't talk’ thing huh? how convenient. Yeah, Ok, I will. I said I will!" Her words are the only thing that they manage to get out of the conversation that the secret ex-couple is having, since no matter how much attention they pay to him, they have no idea how Y/N manages to decipher it.

"I have no idea what's going on but I'll take it as a miracle, I was just going to suggest ignoring Charlie these 2 weeks." Jeremy jokes, everyone nods their heads.

“I mean, it’s still a good option.” Madison replies.

The 14 days go by quickly, and with the former couple spending time together daily, rehearsing Charlie's guitar solos together, with Y/N translating his horrible scribbles, or sometimes simply being close to each other enjoying the company, absentmindedly placing their hand on the other's leg or their forehead on their shoulder for a few seconds during the breaks.

Basically the whole team has noticed the flirtatious smiles and the looks, but Charlie was the weakest rival of both and the one who could release some information about it, and without being able to speak they basically ran out of an informant, since the young singer didn’t let go a word about her unexpected chemistry with the guitarist except the typical ‘we are just good friends’.

But without a doubt the energies began to multiply on Monday when Charlie arrived with the green light to be able to speak and start singing in rehearsals. Madison couldn't attend the first few hours because she was at school, so Y/N was going to cover her so the boys could practice.

“The first on the list is Finally Free, the place where we are going to record it only gave us two weeks from now so it will have to be one of the priorities. For the first rehearsal just vibe with the song and we’ll discover where to go from there. Oh, and good luck keeping up with my golden star, you’ll need it."

Y/N starts the first verse on the keyboard, and gets up to sing the chorus in the center, trying to ignore Charlie and looking up at Jeremy. She hadn’t heard him sing for a couple of years, but the same butterflies appear in her stomach and she knows that she will melt if she looks into his eyes.

Unfortunately for her, Kenny doesn't have the same plan, and just before the second verse ends he tells her to walk over to Charlie, who immediately smiles and sings the pre-chorus with much more enthusiasm. The energy they radiate floods the place, both getting closer and closer. By the time the bridge arrives, their foreheads are practically against each other, their lips only an inch apart, and with a confidence and comfort while singing to each other that makes all those who suspected that there was something between them now practically sure.

Luckily there are only Jeremy, Kenny, Owen and Paul in the room, who decide to play a game of divide and conquer now that the snitch part of the equation can speak.

“Y/N, can you come with me for a moment? I have a new idea for ‘Wow’ and a fresh pair of eyes is just what I need.” Paul says, sacrificing himself for the greater good.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right back.” The singer takes the opportunity to leave this staring game with Charlie and quickly walks away from the guitarist, who winks at her in a flirting way in response.

The moment they walk out the door, everyone turns to see Charlie, who has no idea what they're up to.

“What?”

"After what just happened you just can't keep pretending nothing's happening. Man, that was more intense than the whole Troyella moments during all three movies." Kenny pretends to be offended for a second and then nods.

"I have never seen anything like this in all my years of career."

“Yeah dude it was electric.” Owen replies, smirking.

“She’s my person.” Charlie mumbles.

If he’s being honest with himself, deep down he always knew she was the only one for him. But that realization was freaking scary. What's next if the only person for you has already turned the page? gave up without a fight? what's left?

"What?" The three ask in unison, and Charles begins to sing like a bird.

“We grew up together and then we lost the way. Like in those romantic movies where just everyone knows they belong together except the childhood best friends and then they end up ruining their lives by being in denial.”

“From what I saw getting back on track shouldn't be too difficult, Charlie. I assure you that whatever you feel she feels it too. Her eyes don’t lie." Jeremy tries to reason with him.

“Leave your teen problems behind. You are old enough to decide what you want and find a way to make it work. But you have to stop pretending that nothing is happening first." Owen scolds his friend.

“Do you love her?” Jer asks.

“That answer is always going to be yes, I just could never stop loving her even If I tried. And I did.” He really did. The surprise he got when the second he had her close to him his heart began to beat like crazy and all he wanted was to hug her and fix everything. It was as if when seeing her eyes time hadn’t passed, as if only the day before they’d been goofing around together. That bond is so big that he doesn’t believe it’s possible to break.

“Then do something about it, bro! Go get your girl back!” Jeremy advises while Kenny smiles.

“Yeah man, it’s ‘Now or never’ like her song, and I guess ours too now? Since she wrote it for Sunset Curve? Well, anyway, it’s like our song says.” Owen exclaims excitedly.

“Ohhh, musical inspiration, let me try. ‘Get up, get out, relight that spark’.” Jeremy sings to Charlie.

“Jer, you are a genius. If you think about it wake up is actually a pretty good soundtrack song for this situation. ‘It's not what you lost, It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain’.”

They both keep singing the song until they reach the bridge, Charlie tries to look frustrated but a slight smile escapes his face.

They are right, he still hasn't lost this fight.

👻PART 2 RIGHT HERE

#jatp fanfic #jatp imagine #jatp fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie one shot #jatp luke #luke patterson fic #luke patterson x reader

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mah-gah-lee · 4 years ago

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What a weird family reunion Reggie x Reader (xLuke)

gif originally posted by @jatpsource

Word Count: 3515 words

Summary: You’re Reggie’s little sister. You were 3 when he died. You’re now a ghost for a decade. One night, you recognize your brother and jumped into him to an unexpected family reunion. How is it going to happen? Will Reggie believe you? In a mysterious way, that’s Luke who help you to convinced Reggie.

Warnings: cuss (language), mention of death, mention of divorce, mention of drugs

A/N: This is my first fic about jatp characters. Hope you’ll enjoy! keep in mind that french is my first language, so i’m so sorry if there’s some mistakes in my fic

disclaimer: It takes place during episodes 6 and 7. I do not take into account the possibility of a Juke. The chemistry while they sing is there but no romantic feelings.

Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics @standingtalllove

_______

Losing a child is the worst thing a parent could live, losing two is unimaginable. It’s seems being 17 years old was a new malediction in Peters family.

You were 3 when your older brother, Reginald, died in a weird hot dog accident. At that point, your parents were literally a fight away from a divorce but never did it because of you. You were too young to be in a divided family, according to them. But Reggie's death separated them for good. Yet they really tried to support each other, to overcome that and give you all the attention you needed. But your mother overprotected you and made you live in the shadow of your late brother. Your dad couldn't stand it. And when they finally divorce, moving out from reggie’s childhood house, you went to live with your dad.

Even though you were too young to form a strong bond with your brother, in a way you missed him. Your mother’s house was full of pictures of him, some of his clothes were still in a room, dedicated to him. When you visited your mother, you didn’t understand why you always found yourself in this room. You were drawn like a magnet to the comforting room. Reggie’s presence in this new house brought you such a sense of security that your mother had repeatedly found you asleep on a pile of your brother’s T-shirts.

And then you died in 2009. Kanye West had interrupted Taylor Swift's speech at the VMAs, Miley Cyrus hadn't gone crazy yet and One Direction didn't exist yet. What an era! You didn't know why the great light didn't come looking for you but you were there, as a ghost in 2009. And the time has passed ... You've had your best concerts, the best parties. A forever teenager who couldn't eat, drink or sleep.

And then 2020 came.

…

You were tired of always doing the same thing for over a decade, but you couldn't help but go to every open scene that came up in your beautiful city. It was as if an inexplicable force was pushing you to go there.

This evening was no exception to the rule and you were in a very hip little bar in the city center. You wore one of those sleeveless, gray crop tops with high waisted pants, your leather jacket draped over your shoulders. Your eyes were directly drawn to a group of girls in colorful costumes. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. It's been 10 years since you died and it seemed to you that these girls looked like the same plagues that ruined the lives of so many teenagers in your time. You put on an expression of disgust when they all took the stage, but when the music started you couldn't help but admit it was pretty catchy. However, you didn't expect a ghost to appear in the middle of the stage, improvising a choreography. Was that part of the show?

But looking at the audience's non-reaction, you knew it wasn't. The ghost disappeared for the first time, and your gaze sought directly the distinctive light source of another apparition in the room. Your gaze lingered on a small group of three boys - the blond boy included - and two girls. You have wrinkled your eyes to better distinguish the teenagers, and your face expressed confusion.

“Reggie? “

You wanted to go see him so badly. You were pretty sure it was your brother but it all came too fast. The moment you decided to walk towards them, the organizer announced a new band.

“Okay, looks like we're close the night out with one more group…Julie and the fat ones.”

What was that for a name? Your attention had been diverted and when you looked back at the group, the boys had disappeared as one of the young girls took the stage. Your heart was beating so fast. You couldn't go wrong; you had seen so many pictures at your mother's house that it was impossible that this boy was not your brother. But you missed your chance…

Julie started to sing and your eyes were captivated, as much as your ears were. This kid was so talented! When she sang a rather high note, the tension in the room charged into electricity. The next second, the young singer was joined by the group of boys you had seen in her company. Appearing distinctly as the ghosts did. On drums there was the blond boy you had seen dancing a few moments earlier, on the electric guitar, a boy with tousled brown hair who seemed slightly familiar to you ... and on bass, with a flannel shirt, there was your brother ... Reggie was there, identical to the photos you had admired so much.

The bar was on fire as Julie and The Phantoms performed. What a sick name for a group made up of two-thirds of ghosts! The song was so catchy that your heart beat to the sound of the music. But your eyes did not leave your brother, you were unable to move, frozen in place. What should you do ? Will you introduce yourself after the performance? And, what would you say? "Hey hi Reggie, I'm your sister, I died ten years ago and you twenty-five years ago. Unbelievable, right?! Nice to see you again" And once again, before you knew it, the song was over and the boys were gone again, leaving Julie alone on stage in the bewilderment of the many people in the facility.

“for God's sake, where are they?”

You didn't want to miss it anymore. Even though the whole situation was strange, you wanted to see your brother again.

Your eyes flew over the room before seeing the scene play out before your eyes. Julie seemed petrified in front of a man. The boys watched in amazement and as Julie left with what appeared to be her father, you rushed over to the group of three musicians before they disappeared again.

“omg please don't poof out again.” You said almost out of breath

The boys looked at you like you were crazy before the guitarist jumped off the bar counter, bursting with energy.

"Wait, you can see us?"

“as much as when mister "all eyes on me" made his performance”, you were pointing your head at the blond boy.

The group looked at each other in puzzlement and Reggie finally spoke, his blue eyes full of mischief.

“So…hi there cutie, how can we help you?”

Your face expressed disgust and you stuck your tongue out mimicking vomiting.

Luke gave Alex an amused smile, seeing Reggie flirting and your spontaneous reaction. The bassist couldn't help but charm the pretty ladies.

“Wow Reggie, that's gross ... you're my brother.”

Reggie burst out laughing at your response, not noticing that you called him by his first name when he hadn't even introduced himself to you yet.

“Yeah right, for sure. You just could tell me you weren’t interested. But I’m charming...”

It was the first time he had been given such an excuse but you looked so serious that he stopped dead in his tracks as Luke and Alex watched you. They always knew Reggie had a sister. But the scene unfolding before their eyes seemed impossible. (Y / N) was so young when they died and now must have been around 28, something like that. But the girl in front of them was a teenager, their age. How was this possible?

You didn't want to drop the information like that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. But it had escaped you. Now he didn't take you seriously. Your eyes were wet with tears. It was scary to find you in front of your brother for the first time as a ghost teenager. Luke looked panicked when he noticed your eyes, squeezing Reggie's shoulder as you seemed to beg.

“Can I ... can I meet you in a quieter time please, Reginald?”

Your brother's eyes widened as Luke's hug on his shoulder tightened a bit. The eagerness and desperation in your voice had made both boys react, Alex was just looking at all of you like all of this wasn't real. The use of Reggie's name made him tense, surprised. Few called him Reginald. In fact, only his family, and the boys when they wanted to annoy him, called him that way. And although his nickname is obvious enough to deduce his

full first name, he deeply felt that you weren't just anyone.

He seemed a little panicked and looked around for his friends to support him. As if the solution would fall by itself just by the presence of Luke and Alex.

“Okay, but I want Luke and Alex’s there! What about tomorrow? I’ll give you the address!”

Wow, that was quick.

“hm, yeah, yeah sure, as you want”

You nodded and Reggie silently slipped a note to the drummer. Alex took a pen, write something on a paper towel and gave it to you. You weren’t surprise, you also can make some tricks. And you just had the time to thanks them before they poofted again.

…

The next day, you landed in front of Julie's garage. Lucky she's at school because you shouldn't be explaining your presence, so she managed to see you the way she saw boys.

Before entering, you peeked out the window and frowned. There seemed to be only Luke so far. He was leaning over the piano, his head in a notebook. Your body went through part of the garage door and you cleared your throat.

“hmm, hi ... i came to see Reggie ..”

Luke instantly raised his head and you caught his attention.

“oh uh, hi! He should be here soon, come in.….”

Silence felt as Luke motioned for you to sit on the couch. It was a rather pleasant studio; the plants gave a warm atmosphere to the room and the music set sent you good vibes.

"Does your girlfriend mind that I'm here? I mean, that seems to be your HQ"

"girlfriend?"

"The girl you sing with" I simply said.

"Julie? Um, yeah, she's not my girlfriend. She-sh-she’s great and we have this powerful connection but…not, not in a romantic way. Music tied us. Music and friendship "

Luke chuckled lightly as he scratched his head. You were surprised they weren't dating. Yesterday the tension was intense. He seemed authentic when he had continued his momentum. You let out a smile amused by so much overflow.

“It's okay, I don't need to know your full relationship statute or your social security number.”

The guitarist gave you a frank smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. For a ghost, his gaze was really alive.

“ I’m Luke, by the way”

"Y / N… Re .."

"Reggie's little sister… I-I remember you a little."

"You look familiar to me. Maybe I saw you in a few pictures with Reggie."

Silence fell and you started to feel anxious. Maybe it was a bad idea? You had grown up since Reggie died ... were you still his little sister after all? Luke seemed to notice your dismay and put a comforting hand on your knee.

“hey, is something bothering you?”

“What if he doesn't believe me ... if he definitely thinks I'm not his sister.”

“Let's be honest, it's a little hard to believe. The last time I saw you, you were three years old.”

It was as if the memories flooded into your mind and let you carried away in your words.

“Yeah, you gave me this teddy bear with a guitar and told Reggie you wanted to be my favorite.”

Luke chuckled slightly before staring at you, speechless. He seemed dazed. This anecdote dates back to twenty-five years anyway. He himself had a hard time remembering it until you said it a few seconds earlier.

“what was the smell of the stuffed animal?” he asked, confused about that funny fact

“sorry, what?”

“the plush, what did it smell like?”

“hot waffle, why?”

“okay ... maybe you are his sister ... tell me more about what you remember”

You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Everything had been so natural before he stopped in all the movements. And now, it was hard to think about for the memories you had of Reggie on demand. The teddy bear given by Luke story had slipped out of your mind without you realizing it. As your brain seemed to boil, the fog of your thoughts cleared.

“can I use your guitar?”

“hell no ... why?” Luke exclaimed with far too much anticipation

“I have this lullaby stuck inside of my head ... I think Reggie sang it to me when I was a child”

Your pleading and desperate gaze fell on Luke who categorically refused to let you take his guitar. He ends up grabbing his six acoustic strings, terminated. There was something about you that made him weak.

“Maybe you can teach me but ... my guitar is my guitar, nobody touches it.”

You nodded and the lead singer moved closer to you. You were stunned by its smell, like a distant memory. Luke had definitely been a part of your life before he died, you were sure of that. You leaned over her shoulder, humming the lullaby that was left in your head. It didn't take long for him to find the right chords. Luke continued several times before you stopped singing, looking at him intently.

“that's exactly it ... this lullaby”

You both looked at each other, an indecipherable expression in your eyes. You both jumped at the sound of the garage door. Reggie appeared with Alex.

"Ready to compose hellish songs! oh did I interrupt something?”

"No, no I was there to see you. I guess you have a lot of questions."

"hell yeah, can we start from the beginning?"

You smiled to approve his request. The boys settled down on the sofa, while you sat down on one of the single armchairs. And the flow of questions began

“When are you born?”

“(your birthday date) 1992” you simply answered.

“What’s your name?”

(y/n) (y/m/n) Peters

It’s seemed to convinced a little Reggie but doubt was all over his face. It was information you could easily get on the internet nowadays.

“What’s my favorite food?”

“Pizza, mom said your favorite was the extra cheese with pepperoni”

“And what was my favorite toy?”

“I freaking don’t know, how can I suppose to known that?”

“ah ah!” he pointed the finger at you, as if that answer was proof that you were lying. It broke your heart but you didn't show it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and Reggie kept going to ask you some question. Of course, you would have liked to have answered his questions correctly. Your mother told you some anecdotes about him but not to the point of knowing all the details.

“What’s the most terrible thing I said to my mom?”

“Omg I don’t fucking know! I was 3 when you’re died, asshole!”

Luke smiled when you exploded. Reggie was Reggie, as weird as possible. Now you were angry and desperate. Your brother didn’t believe you and he kept dragging you into this miserable feeling that you were never going to get your brother back. You had spent your short life living with a faint memory of him. Your blankie was one of his t-shirts, his voice reasoned in your head when you couldn’t sleep.

But then, in front of him, you were a stranger to him. Your heart was bruised from not being able to hug him and to finally meet this brother who had left far too soon.

“Okay, okay… So, how can you proof me you’re really my sister?! “

In the room’s corner, Luke looked at you, you looked desperate, about to cry again. He grabbed his guitar and cleared his throat. Reggie turned to him as the guitarist still had his eyes on you, a heartwarming smile hanging across his face. You had managed to convince him in a few minutes. He felt connected to you and the things you told him were disturbing. You could only be Reggie's sister; it was impossible otherwise.

"Hey…What about the song you told me earlier." he said with a soft and comfort voice

Your eyes caught his gaze, grateful for the initiative. You nodded and Luke started playing the few notes you had taught him a few minutes earlier. It was so different from all the songs the brunette could play before. It was a lullaby, such easy children's music with just a few notes. Of course, the band wasn’t supposed to play when Julie wasn’t in the room but, Luke had thought it was the best thing to do to encourage you to keep going. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Reggie to believe you. Luke believed you, hard as nails. There only had to look at your eyes to understand this reality, and Luke had noticed that. You had the same blue eyes as your brother. How could Reggie still doubt that? You started to sing

You're so sleepy

Very much sleepy

You want to go to the fairyland

You close your eyes

And jump into your dream.

When you'll wake up

I’ll still be on your team.

The instant Reggie heard the first notes, he knew. But hearing you sing the lullaby he had invented for you when you didn't want to sleep as a child, was a magical moment. You were his baby sister. He gave you that sad little puppy face, so overwhelmed. Reggie opened his arms and you jumped into a hug, so glad he finally accepted the fact that you were his sister.

You felt oddly safe again, like taking a nap in Reggie's pile of old t-shirts. You were so happy to find your brother and to be able to live your non-life by his side. Nothing would be as boring as it used to be. Reggie pushed you away with a concerned look

"but wait ... how did you die?"

"Yeah ... I don't really know ... I was at a really, really good rock concert and I bought this drink ... and I think I got drugged up there and ... I guess I'm dead? tadaa " you tried to tell him in a light tone.

He had just learned that he had a little sister. He didn't have to know that she was sneaking out at rock concerts and drinking alcohol before she was old enough. Right? Alex looked at Luke and Reggie with his half amused half confused smile. As for Luke, he fidgeted from foot to foot at the discovery. Y / N was as much rock and roll as they all were. Rebellion had to be his middle name

You loosened Reggie's embrace and lowered your head, pursing your lips so as not to show your embarrassment. He asked if you wanted snacks and you nodded. There was a slight silence. You didn't notice the urgent look Luke gave Alex but the next moment the blond jumped up to accompany the bassist, leaving you alone in the garage with the lead singer.

The silences were a little longer until Luke cautiously approached you. You could feel the awkwardness from miles away.

“ Sooo, you made this.”

“ yeah ...” you answered in a shy voice

It was the moment you had to thank him but your words seemed frozen. You mustered all the courage to plant your gaze in Luke's eyes.

“Thank you ... for helping me earlier.”

“oh it was nothing”.

“I ... yes, yes it was. You can't imagine how important seeing Reggie again is to me. Thanks for ... for helping me open his eyes.”

A slight smile caught his lips and he reached for your cheek before stopping his gesture. Instead of stroking your skin, he simply put a section of your hair back behind your ear.

“I would do anything for my best friends.”

And Reggie was definitely one of Luke’s best friend. You hardly swallowed, your stomach contorting under the effect that the guitarist made you. Time had seemed to fly at an incredible speed as the moment was interrupted by Reggie and Alex coming back to you.

“OMG LUKE DON’T FLIRT WITH MY SISTER, SHE’S 3!”

You cleared your throat and stepped aside to pull yourself away from Luke as far as possible. Your gaze fell on your brother and you raised an eyebrow at the last remark. 3 years old, really? You were 3 years old twenty-five years ago ... now you were eternally a teenager

“I’m seventeen.”

“Listen, i'm your big brother, you’re three, end of discussion.”

Your face wanted to laugh and you pursed your lips to keep from succumbing. But your eyes… Your eyes met Luke's in a complicity that slowly settled. Could you fall in love with your big brother's best friend? Definitely yes...

#jatp #jatp cast #jatp cast x reader #jatp imagines #jatp fic #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #reggie x reader #reggie peters x reader #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie #jeremy shada #writing #owen patrick joyner #madison reyes

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werkwerkelizaaa · 4 years ago

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Xoxo Droplets’ Jerk Squad Band AU

So this came to me while I was listening to Yeah Right off of Evanescence’s latest album, The Bitter Truth.

Yeah I know, but hear me out:

•They were all in an after-school program for ~cultivating musical talent in troubled youth~

•Even though most of them cannot stand each other, as a whole they’re almost magical onstage

• Nate is the frazzled manager of course, constantly stretched within an inch of his life but he claims a perfect (by his standards) show is worth all the stress

• Bae writes the lyrics, handles a majority of the PR– if somebody tries to spin his words he can spin it right back on them– and I also feel he could play the electric violin for the songs that call for it (it’s a thing and it’s epic)

•Jeremy seems to be the type to have piano aggressively encouraged to him by his parents, so he’s on keyboard and composes most of the music

Imagine Bae leaning over Jeremy “No no cupcake, I know it’s difficult for anyone to keep up with my genius, but you modulate the key on the next line” and pointing

“If you don’t get that finger out of my face I will stuff this sheet music up your nasal cavity”

“...and don’t call me cupcake”

•JB takes lead guitar and does a lot of showboating, works the crowd and is usually in some sort of scandalous headline every week but she loves it

•Shiloh plays bass and provides backup vocals, he’s annoying but they keep him towards the front of the stage because his energy is infectious so we might as well put him to use

• I can see Everett having the ability to use both hands equally well, so he’s on drums and enjoys having his finger on the very heartbeat of the metaphorical system, probably dabbles in the synth too

•Pran is the one-man tech wizard and has as tiny of a presence as possible, only the most hardcore fans know what he even looks like

•[If we bring the reader into this, they were hand-selected by JB for their seemingly sweet, friendly, conflict-averse demeanor as well as their powerful voice– she didn’t want too much competition for the boys’ attention]

•[Whether her judgement is sound remains to be seen, but my money’s on not]

•[On the other hand, there’s still enough onstage chemistry between them to play it up for the fans and the press]

•They definitely squabbled over the name

• “Hear me out: Baend.” “NO” “JB and the JBs” “oh, please” “get real” “could we squish all of our names together?” “Ah yes, because none of the members of the band could ever switch out, it’s not like that happens only all the time”

• “What about ‘That Band’?” “Seriously?” “It’s no worse than anything else that’s been suggested” “Ugh fine” “wait I was being sarcastic” “well too bad we’re sticking with it now” “this is all your fault Jeremy”

each member has a good amount of groupies/fangirls. JB, Everett, and Shiloh revel in the spotlight and have a lot of overnight visitors to their respective rooms, Bae pretends he’s above all that but he’ll have the occasional “dalliance” as well which is,,, not what you’d think

Legit he sells a limited amount of ‘day dates’ to his fans at every tour stop which consists of him hanging out with them for a certain price, it’s only word-of-mouth through the hardcore base which just adds to the mystique

• Nate and Jeremy are like “gross”, but at least they have fans and at the very least that’s good for both business and their image

• Pran HATES it lol he’s just like “Why. Why.”

• “Must be a bunch of burnt out losers who weren’t hugged enough as children.”

• They all constantly diss everyone else’s outfits and haircuts, naturally

•Not the musical instruments though– except for in extreme cases– because that’s serious business

Jeremy: trips onstage

Everett: *ba-dum-tsss*

•Pran with light spotting/mic check shenanigans

•Shiloh: leans over to plug his bass in

•Pran: Points all the spotlights directly at him

•Shiloh: temporarily blinded

•Pran: evil chuckle

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

• Nate: Sound check, let’s go!

•Pran: turns it down low

•JB: Hello, world! ...it’s not working. Testing, one two three.

•Everett, offstage: Is it even turned on?

•Jeremy: uh yeah, the light’s green.

•Pran: snickering to himself in the back

•JB: COME ON YOU STUPID WORTHLESS PIECE OF S—

Ear-splitting, electronic screech

• Everyone minus JB and Pran: JB!!

Jeremy’s keyboard is absolutely pristine, and you cannot convince me otherwise

There’s not a fingerprint to be seen, he might even wear gloves while handling it just to keep it impeccable

Def makes the stagehands and assistants wash their hands and glove up before moving it, that’s not even a question

You could probably eat right off the thing, not that he’d let you

•JB has some cool pins on the strap of her guitar and has a few different guitars she rotates though depending on her mood

•Everett and Shiloh have similar stickers on their respective instruments, they still mock each others’ taste in decoration though because them

“Give us a headbang, Jeremy!”

“No.”

• Jeremy [and reader] do their best in making Nate’s job as easy as possible, which is very much needed since directing the rest of the members is worse than herding cats

Three minutes to showtime

•Everett: hey has anyone seen my drumsticks?

•Nate: WHAT

•Nate: YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

• Everett: Lol jk here they are in my back pocket

•Bae: Wonnndderrrfulll, crisis averted.

• Shiloh: Everett, that’s not really funny...

• Everett: F***ing can it, freckles.

• Shiloh: :( you can it.

• JB: everybody shut up before I make you shut up

• Everett: ;) is that so?

• Jeremy: kill me now.

• Nate, offstage: I need a raise...

•[Reader once walked in on Nate aggressively rubbing at his eyes and sniffling after a particularly rough week, but he brushed it off as seasonal allergies and they didn’t press the matter at the time]

•Roommate musical chairs kept happening at every single stop until finally everyone was fed up with everybody, even the ones who usually get along, so Bae and Nate decided on getting everyone their own room while touring– they even added a clause to the contract to make sure it would happen for the divas (yes that includes the two of them)

• Credit to the amazing @gb-patch for creating the best worst guys you’ll ever love

•hey, psst. Before you go, check this out: https://werkwerkelizaaa.tumblr.com/post/648073310973952000/xoxo-droplets-jerk-squad-band-au

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starshine583 · 4 years ago

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New Girl on the Block (6)

(the next chapter is heeeeeeeeeeeere!!! hope you guys like it!! there’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries, though I don’t know how long I’m going to be continuing it. Check it out if you feel like it!)

Ch.1 / Ch.5 / Ch.7

Chapter 6: Don’t Be Suspicious

Marinette tilted her head from side to side, doing a subtle dance to the music that played through her earbuds. She tapped her pencil on the desk with the beat and mouthed Jagged Stone’s lyrics as they came, thoroughly enjoying the electric guitar in the background. At Dupont, listening to music with earbuds was a ‘no-no’ despite her efforts. Principle Damocles, along with a few of the teachers, insisted that it hindered their drive to focus and work on school. The thought wasn’t entirely misguided- Marinette was already re-reading this textbook page for the third time with no hope of comprehension in sight -but she enjoyed the liberties that came with her new school nonetheless.

In all honesty, Rosemary didn’t allow headphones either, but the librarian wasn’t a snitch, and Marinette wasn’t a saint. So, during her assigned study halls, she would hop over to the school’s library and jam out to Jagged Stone. It was a nice reprieve from the strict guidelines that Rosemary held for their students and gave her time to unwind before her next round of overly-complicated classes.

She was about ready to start banging her head to the song- the lyrics were just too good -when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Her gaze flicked upwards towards Claude, who was sitting beside her. He’d suggested that they study together during the one study hall they shared, and Marinette, being friends with him and genuinely enjoying his company, agreed. He was actually the one who told her about the lax librarian in the first place.

Once Claude was certain that he had her attention, he tapped a finger to his ear, silently requesting her to take out an earbud. Marinette gladly obliged and paused her Jagged Stone music to hear him better.

“What are you listening to? You look like you’re really jamming out.” He asked curiously.

Marinette held up her phone for him to see the song cover. “Just Jagged Stone. He normally helps me think, but I’m starting to wonder if that only works for design sketches.”

Claude gasped so hard that she thought he was going to choke, and an ear-splitting grin spread across his lips.

“You listen to Jagged Stone too? He’s one of my favorites!” The brunette said enthusiastically.

Marinette straightened with delight. “Seriously? He’s been a favorite of mine since I was twelve!”

“Ten!” Claude trilled.

Elation bubbled up in Marinette’s chest. Finally! Someone to talk to about Jagged Stone! She hadn’t found a kindred spirit since Luka and.. well.. She hasn’t met another Jagged Stone fan in a while.

“Did you hear the new album that just came out?” She asked, folding her arms across the table and leaning onto them. When she first came to Rosemary, she’d naturally assumed that no one there listened to rock. Everyone was prepped and poised and rich. Their tastes were bound to be much ‘finer’ than hers.

Looking at it now, though, it made perfect sense for Claude to listen to Jagged Stone. He was an energetic and passionate person, and that’s what Rock n’ Roll was all about. She also had to remind herself that she was now a Rosemary student. If she listened to rock music, it was possible that her other classmates did as well. The school wasn’t a complete hive mind, after all.

Claude scoffed playfully. “Did I? I was the first in line for the cd! The songs were a total masterpiece!”

Before Marinette could reply, another scoff interrupted their conversation, one that wasn’t nearly as playful. She glanced across the table to Felix, who had looked up from his book. He’d shared the same study hall hour that they did, and Claude, being who he was, coaxed the blond into joining them in the library.

Well.. ‘coax’ probably wasn’t the right word. It was more of Claude dragging Marinette to the table that Felix was already sitting at and convincing Felix to stay seated once they got there.

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, and the corners of his lips twitched in a scowl, the same way they always did when he was about to criticize something.

“No type of rock music could ever be considered a ‘masterpiece’,” He stated matter-of-factly, “especially not that man’s noise.”

Marinette gasped, slapping a hand to her chest in offense. “Jagged Stone’s music is not ‘noise’.”

“Forget it, Mari.” Claude cut in, putting a hand on her shoulder as he shot Felix a glare. “This guy will never understand Jagged’s art.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly call throwing a bunch of instruments together and screaming into the microphone ‘art’.”

Marinette crossed her arms and huffed. Jagged Stone didn’t scream. His voice was just rough, but even if he did scream, that shouldn’t give Felix the right to be rude. Everyone had their own tastes. Marinette didn’t go around bashing XY fans, now, did she?

“Have you even listened to him?” She asked indignantly.

“I’ve had the unfortunate experience of listening to rock, yes. That’s how I know it’s in bad taste.”

Marinette’s fingers dug into her skin. “But have you listened to Jagged Stone?”

The grated words caused Felix to pause.

“..I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Marinette sighed and tugged out one of her earbuds to hand it to him. “Here.”

Felix rose a brow, not moving an inch. “What do you expect me to do with that?”

“You’re going to listen to at least one of Jagged Stone’s songs.” She told him. “Then you can tell me what you think.”

Felix was an extremely opinionated person. He tended to say exactly what he thought without considering how it would affect others around him. At first, his snaps and snide remarks put her on edge. She would worry about angering him and making him dislike her from the things she’d say or do. But after spending more time around him, Marinette realized that he wasn’t angry as much as he was easily irritated. He would get annoyed at things that he viewed as out of place or illogical, then, after fixing the problem or telling someone else to fix it, he would move on. It just so happened that Allegra, Allan, and Claude were constantly doing things that were ‘illogical’, ‘unnecessary’, and- her personal favorite -‘downright preposterous’.

That being said, Marinette still didn’t enjoy challenging Felix when she disagreed with him. His words were sharp and blunt, whether he meant them to be or not, and arguing was never her strong suit, anyway. Therefore, she found it best to merely listen and watch as the rest of the group continued to push Felix’s buttons relentlessly.

Right now, however, was a different story. Right now he was denouncing an incredibly talented artist who he hadn’t even bothered to listen to before condemning, and Marinette wouldn’t stand for it.

Felix’s gaze shifted to the earbud. She could see the command turning in his mind, could see him deciding between being difficult and resisting or simply being nice for once.

“..Fine,” He relented, taking the offered headphone, “but don’t be upset when my opinion doesn’t change.”

Marinette tried not to smile too much and quickly started scrolling through her playlist to choose a song. If she only had one shot to convince Felix of Jagged’s greatness, she needed to play one of his best works.

“Wow..” Claude remarked. “You actually got him to listen to a song. That’s farther than I’ve ever gotten.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting. Marinette didn’t reply either. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity she’d been given by joking with Claude.

She found a song a few seconds later and eagerly set the phone between them as it began to play. This had been a song that she’d listened to for at least a week or two before moving on to the next one. She knew the lyrics inside out and could quite possibly sing them in her sleep. If anything was going to convince Felix that rock was also a musical art, it would be this song.

Felix’s expression twisted with annoyance as the drums kicked up to join the electric base.

“See, this is what I’m talking about.” He sighed. “The notes are overbearing and chaotic. How can you enjoy it?”

“Because they’re not chaotic.” Marinette replied, gathering all the patience she could. “It might get loud sometimes, but the drums and guitar create a steady beat for Jagged Stone to sing to.”

Just then, Jagged Stone’s voice rang through the headphones, gruff and strong. Marinette’s lips quirked up into an involuntary smile, but Felix, unsurprisingly, wasn’t as thrilled as she was.

“He doesn’t even sing about anything important.” He said. “The words are completely random.”

Marinette resisted the urge to groan. How could someone be so smart yet so stupid at the same time?

“The lyrics aren’t random. And they might not be important to you, but they are to him.” She tried to explain. “Jagged writes about the things he loves and tells it to the world through song. His music is full of passion, and it drives others to be more passionate too. Myself included.”

Felix glanced up at her for a moment, no doubt scrutinizing her claims, and tisked. He then put a hand over his borrowed earbud and closed his eyes to try to listen to the music better.

Although it was a small, begrudging act, Marinette couldn’t help grinning. He didn’t like rock music, didn’t even want to entertain the idea of liking it, yet here he was, listening to Jagged Stone’s music because she asked him to. He was trying hard to understand something she enjoyed, and that meant a lot, especially when one considers how stubborn he can be.

“I suppose I can understand what you mean..” Felix mumbled a few seconds later. “The notes aren’t nearly as melodic as what I’m used to, but it must take some form of talent to mash banging instruments together and make it sound decent.”

Marinette beamed. It was a backhanded comment, but she could accept it.

“Okay, my turn.” She said, extending her hand towards him.

Felix frowned. “Pardon?”

“You said that Jagged Stone isn’t what you’re used to, right? I wanna know what you’re used to.” She replied matter-of-factly. “Let me listen to one of your songs.”

Felix’s frown deepened, but he pulled out his earbuds to hand one to her.

“I suppose I could show you the one I’ve been listening to recently..” He muttered to himself. “Just be careful with these. They’re expensive.”

Marinette happily plucked one of the earbuds out of Felix’s hands and put it on. The cord between the earbuds was shorter than hers, so they both had lean across the table to share. She didn’t mind the closeness, though. They’d only be there for a moment.

When the music finally began, all Marinette could really do was snort. Classical music. Of course Felix would listen to classical music. Each note had a purpose, place, and expression in the song. Yes, other music had that too, but most of the time, there were words that people sang to excuse repetitiveness of the beat. Classical music had to carry its own weight, and that made all the difference.

“What?” Felix asked, referring to her laugh.

Marinette put a hand to her mouth with an apologetic smile. “Oh, nothing. It just makes sense for you to listen to classical music.”

Felix rose a brow, but she waved him off. There was no point explaining it.

“Anyway, I can see why you would like this, because it’s really pretty, but I, personally, find it a little boring.” She said honestly. “The notes are too slow. I would fall asleep before I could finish a song.”

“It’s not just a song, though.” Felix argued. “It’s a story. Listen closer.”

Marinette did as she was told and closed her eyes, putting a hand over her earbud like Felix had done earlier. The piano and violin mingled together in a soft symphony, lulling up and down as the symphony progressed. A lone guitar played a joyful tune in the background.

“The protagonist is admiring their lover.” Felix explained. “They’re making promises of being together always.”

Drums bubbled up behind the piano and violin as the guitar faded, causing the music to shift into a tense atmosphere.

“The father of the lover is coming between them, forcing a separation.”

Violin strings shake with the drums, and the piano gradually grows louder to emphasize the ominous presence. Once the tension is drawn out to its absolute limit, the music breaks with bursts of violins and trumpets, signifying the beginning of a fight.

“The protagonist refuses to back down, and although they are worried, they stand up to fight for their love anyway.”

Marinette cracked an eye open to look at Felix. His eyes were now closed as well, and a soft smile ghosted his lips. She hadn’t taken him to be a romantic, but he appeared to be deeply engrossed in the ‘story’. Did he read romance novels often? She assumed all of the books he carried around were about historical facts or intricate philosophies, not trials of love or daring confessions.

“Do you hear it?” Felix asked, his eyes abruptly opening. Their heads were already close from sharing headphones, but his looking up only brought them closer. It was a miracle their noses didn’t bump together.

Marinette froze, her eyes widening at being caught. Was it weird that she was staring at him before he opened his eyes? It shouldn’t be, right? Staring at your friend wasn’t a crime.

Say something. Marinette’s mind screamed. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t say anything. She could hardly even think straight. She was too lost in the roundness of his eyes or how long his eyelashes were or whether she was too close to him and have his eyes always had those little specks of blue in them?

Marinette squeaked, finally gaining enough sense to lurch backwards. Felix’s earbud was tugged out of her ear, but she didn’t care. Right now she needed distance.

“S-sorry!” She blurted out. “I-I mean- uhm -the music was fine, or- great. I-.. I could really hear the- the story.”

Her hands covered her face in a vain attempt to hide her blush. Her cheeks were absolutely burning from embarrassment. How could she get so flustered? Wasn’t it her idea to share the earbuds?

Felix was strangely quiet as he picked up the abandoned earbud and paused the song. Oh gosh, he probably thought she was a total weirdo now. (If he hadn’t thought that already.)

Marinette peeked through her fingers, searching his face for judgement, but he simply wrapped the cord of the earbuds around his phone. Although his eyebrows were furrowed slightly, the rest of his expression was neutral. Was that a good sign or no?

“Yes, that’s why I enjoy it.” He finally said once his phone was put away. His tone was graciously composed, not acknowledging her humiliating outburst. “The composers put real effort and work into their music. They carefully aligned each note to make sure it portrays their story and theme correctly. That’s what I consider to be a masterpiece.”

Marinette nodded. “Y-Yeah.. That makes sense.. I still think Jagged Stone’s music is also a work of art, though.”

She settled back into her original seat, as did Felix.

“Agree to disagree, I suppose.” Felix shrugged.

An astounded laugh came from the left of them, and the two turned back to Claude. Marinette had admittedly forgotten that he was there.

“I, for one, am impressed.” The brunette announced. “You actually got Felix to entertain a different opinion. He never says ‘agree to disagree’! It’s always just ‘you’re wrong’.”

Felix scoffed. “Don’t act like I’m unreasonable. I’m stubborn in my opinions because they’re logical and sound, while your arguments against them are hardly either.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you think you guys can argue about cephalopods now? I’m supposed to be doing a report on them for science.”

Marinette chuckled, finally relaxing in her chair again. “Sorry, Claude. I don’t have any strong opinions about cephalopods.”

“Maybe if you read a book every once in a while, you’d find something to write about.” Felix added, being ever the supportive one.

“Hey! I do read!” Claude defended. “I just don’t know what to write about. Should I argue a random point about cephalopods or should I just write about a bunch of facts? Am I supposed to list my sources or can I say whatever I want? What does the school board want from me?”

“Claude, you’re a sophomore.” Felix stated bluntly. “If you don’t know how to write papers now, I can’t help you.”

Claude groaned and sunk into his chair, and Marinette offered a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway,” He grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face, “speaking of cephalopods, have you guys heard about the new aquarium exhibit that they just opened at Aquarium de Paris?”

Marinette perked up. “Wait, really? I didn’t know about that!”

“Yeah, I think it’s something to do with the sharks.” Claude smiled. “They’ve got this new tank and everything.”

Marinette wiggled in her seat with delight. She always loved aquariums. “That’s so cool! I’ll have to ask Maman and Papa about going to see it.”

“Oh, why don’t we all go together?” Claude suggested. “I wanna see the new exhibit too, and I’m sure Allegra and Allan will want to go.”

“Sure! When do you think you’ll be free to go see it?”

Claude leaned back in his chair as he thought about it. “Uh.. maybe this Sunday? I don’t think I have anything going on then. Does that work for you?”

“I’ll have to check with my parents, but that should be okay. Do you want me to tell Allan about it during our next class?”

Claude nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll tell Allegra.”

Marinette smiled and turned to Felix. “Are you gonna come with us, Felix?”

A part of her felt awkward asking, as Felix didn’t normally enjoy the group outings, but a bigger part of her would feel guilty if she didn’t invite him when they were inviting everyone else.

Felix glanced up from his book with a questioning gaze. He.. hadn’t been listening.

“We’re going to Aquarium de Paris this Sunday. Are you coming?” Claude asked again.

Felix shrugged. “I suppose Allegra will drag me along either way, so why not?”

Marinette bit her lip to hold back a giddy squeal. This was going to be great! Getting to see all of the new fish and getting to spend time with her new friends? What could be better than that?

~~~~~~

Felix drew in a deep breath as he made his way towards the school exit. Aside from the soft chattering and echoing footsteps of the students around him, it was quiet, and he reveled in the silence while he could. Leaving school alone was a rarity now, especially since Marinette joined their group. Allegra, Claude, and Allan had always been insistent on smothering him with activities, but with the new ‘recruit’, the time they spent together has doubled. The trio wanted everyone to be together constantly. That included Felix.

He sighed, shifting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. The numerous study dates, get-togethers, and group lunches had pushed his social battery to its absolute limit. So the small reprieve was greatly appreciated.

It did feel strange, though, not hearing Claude’s rambling or Allegra’s scolding or Marinette’s laughter. They’d become a steady background noise to the rest of his daily life, and now that they were absent, Felix found himself glancing over his shoulder, waiting for one of them to pop up.

Of course, no one came, and Felix forced his eyes forward to push away the growing anticipation. There was no need to mull over it. He would see them tomorrow at school, and on top of that, they had another outing scheduled for this Sunday to visit the aquarium. By the end of the week, Felix would certainly have his fill of seeing their faces or hearing their voices.

The sun beat down on Felix as he stepped outside, and he welcomed it whole-heartedly. The biting cold of January was never something he fancied, save for the fact that it kept everyone else indoors.

He started down the front stairs, letting his mind wander back to the conversation he’d had with Marinette during their shared study hall. Her boldness during their discussion of musical preferences had surprised him, since she usually steered clear of any confrontations. He couldn’t blame her for her sudden tenacity, though. People tended to be extremely attached to their music, and Felix had criticized her tastes. It only made sense for her to defend herself.

On that note, Jagged Stone? Really? He’d assumed Claude was the only one to have such bizarre tastes. Nevertheless, if Marinette approved of the man, Felix wasn’t going to question too much. She still created those phenomenal designs, after all, meaning she must have a good eye for things.

Bits and pieces of the song that Marinette had requested him to listen to resurfaced in his mind. If he was being honest, it wasn’t as horrible as he’d claimed, but blaring drums and pounding beats simply didn’t help him relax like classical music did.

Felix closed his eyes briefly as he recalled the piano piece he’d shown Marinette a few minutes later. It was a favorite of his, one that he listened to often while reading alone in his room, and he did his best to explain the mastery of the artwork. The passion, the yearning, the love- it can be difficult to express, especially when he hadn’t experienced those things first hand. That’s the main reason he found the piece so interesting.

The image of Marinette’s delicate features flicked through his mind. He’d looked up at her to gawk her reaction, to see if she understood what he was trying to say, but he’d found her staring right back at him instead. Her almond-shaped eyes were round with shock, and he couldn’t help thinking about the first time they met, when he first realized how blue her irises were. They almost reminded him of tiny, swirling oceans, deep and mesmerizing.

When she jerked back a few seconds later, something akin to disappointment had laced through Felix’s stomach, and even now, he wasn’t sure why that was. Perhaps he wanted to admire the color a tad longer.

Either way, Marinette plopped into her seat, her cheeks flushing a dark scarlet, and it was only then that Felix noticed his own racing heartbeat. Again, he was at a loss for the cause. Was it because she startled him by lurching backwards? He didn’t remember flinching.

The screeching of tires pulled Felix from his thoughts, and his gaze turned to the road in front of him. A silver car had parked on the curb.

A frown tugged at the corner of Felix’s lips. That was odd. Parking on the curbs near Rosemary wasn’t allowed unless someone was being picked up or dropped off, yet no students were waving the car down or exiting the vehicle.

The back door to the car swung open, causing Felix to raise a brow. Spoke too soon.

A boy jumped out of the car, his golden blonde hair shining in the sunlight as he ran towards the front steps. Something about him seemed familiar, but Felix couldn’t place his finger on what.

The boy slowed to a stop in front of him and offered a friendly smile. Yeah, Felix has definitely seen this guy before. But where?

“Hey!” The stranger greeted. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a girl. Her name is Marinette?”

Felix narrowed his eyes at the name. Marinette as in Marinette Dupain-Cheng? As in, the girl who was inside talking to Allegra right now? Why would he be looking for her?

“She’s about this tall.” The boy continued, holding his hand just above his shoulder for reference. “She’s got raven-colored hair that she normally puts into pigtails, and wears pink capris and a black jacket. She would have started attending this school about two weeks ago?”

The more he spoke, the more suspicious Felix became. This guy knew a lot about Marinette, but Felix didn’t know a thing about him. Was he a friend? An enemy? Marinette didn’t mention meeting someone after school. Not that she was obligated to share her personal connections and schedules, but what if this was the person that’s been wanting to ‘talk’ with her? The stalker?

Don’t overreact. Felix told himself. This could be a perfectly harmless visit from an old friend of hers. Just because I wasn’t aware of him coming doesn’t mean he has ill intentions.

...but just in case..

“Apologies, but have we met?” Felix asked, dodging the blonde’s question. He didn’t want to disclose Marinette’s location unless he had her permission. There were too many cases where an unknowing co-worker blabbed about the victim’s schedule to the stalker, and he refused to be one of those idiots.

The boy pulled a sheepish expression and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, no, we haven’t, but I can see why you would think that. My face is kind of everywhere with all of the ads Father’s had me model in recently.”

Felix blinked, the mix of familiarity and the boy’s words clicking together in his mind. Of course! This was that same, obnoxious face that Paris has been obsessed with for the better half of five years. The amount of billboards and posters of this guy that were plastered around the city was enough to make Felix gag. He couldn’t look in any direction without seeing him!

“You’re Adrien Agreste.” He stated, a hint of irritation accidentally rising to his tone. Not only has this ‘sunshine child’- or so Paris called him -been plaguing his eyes for at least two years since Gabriel upped his campaigning game, he also happens to have the same name that was scribbled on Marinette’s birthday cards, the ones she’d offered to give away. Was that a coincidence?

Felix was leaning towards ‘no’.

“Yep.” Adrien chuckled. “That’s me. Anyway, is she here? I really need to talk with her.”

“He really just wants to ‘talk’.”

Marinette’s bitter words resurfaced in his mind, and Felix narrowed his eyes. The chances of Adrien Agreste being an enemy were steadily rising.

“I’m afraid I don’t know a girl by that name or description,” he lied, “and there hasn’t been a new student here since last year.”

If Adrien turned out to truly be one of Marinette’s friends, he would apologize, but Felix wasn’t going to risk compromising her if his suspicions were correct.

Confusion etched its way onto the blond’s features, and he glanced down at the ground as he muttered, “I could have sworn she said ‘Rosemary’..”

Felix rose a brow. Marinette told him which school she was attending? Or did another girl give him the information?

Before either could say anything more, a car horn sounded in front of them, and Adrien glanced over his shoulder to the driver of the silver car.

“Ah, I gotta go. Thanks for your help!”

Felix didn’t bother returning Adrien’s wave, instead watching him hop down the front steps. Although it would annoy him, he hoped that the blond actually was a friend of Marinette’s, for her sake. He can’t imagine her being happy with the news that someone had followed her to school.

“Oh, hey, Felix! I thought you were leaving.”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear..

The silver car had just disappeared around the corner when the girl in question skipped down the front steps next to him. She flashed him a bright smile, making his insides churn with guilt. Should he tell her? She needed to know, right?

“I was,” He said, choosing his next words carefully, “but I got held up.”

Marinette chuckled. “I know how that goes.”

Felix nodded, his gaze shifting to the side. He didn’t want to worry her, but he couldn’t let her be ignorant of a possibly dangerous situation either.

“.. Were you, by chance, expecting anyone at the school today?”

Marinette frowned and shook her head, unfortunately confirming Felix’s concerns. “No, why?”

“Well..” He hesitated. “Someone stopped by and asked for you. A man by the name Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette’s entire body went rigid, and the blood drained from her face. Felix held back a grimace at the sight. She looked more frightened than two weeks ago when she first ran into the school to hide.

“D-Did you-”

“No.” Felix cut her off, already knowing what she was going to ask. “I told him you didn’t attend this school.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief, but he could still see the nervousness in her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness.. Thank you so much, Felix.”

“Is he the one who wanted to talk to you two weeks ago?”

Marinette faltered at the question, but nodded. “He went to my old school..”

Felix frowned. If he remembered his mother’s ramblings correctly, Adrien Agreste started attending Dupont not too long ago. Was that Marinette’s old school then?

“His father’s a powerful man.” He said. “You need to be careful.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh no! I mean- Thank you for the warning.. But Adrien isn’t like that. He’s persistent, but he doesn’t threaten people.”

Felix wasn’t entirely sure that he believed that, but he wouldn’t argue. Marinette was dealing with enough already. “I believe he said something about a girl telling him that you’re attending Rosemary, but he didn’t mention the name of her.”

Marinette’s eyebrows knitted together. “A girl?”

“Yes, something like ‘I could have sworn she said Rosemary’.”

Marinette chewed on her bottom lip, obviously troubled by the news. Felix didn’t blame her. Stalking can be a serious matter. (even if she didn’t quite consider it stalking.)

“Would you like me to drive you home?” He offered, yet again.

And again, Marinette refused by shaking her head.

“Thanks, but it’s only two blocks. I’ll be fine.” She assured.

The decision didn’t sit well with him, but Felix nodded anyway. It wasn’t his place to tell her what she could or couldn’t do, or what precautions he personally thought she should take.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He said, finally continuing his descent down the stairs.

“Yep, see you tomorrow.” Marinette smiled.

They parted ways after that, Marinette heading down the sidewalk and Felix going to find his driver, but the urge to watch her didn’t leave his mind until she completely vanished around the corner.

Felix sighed, tapping his finger against the car door as he settled into the backseat of his car. Why did he want to follow her so badly?

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette

#Felix Culpa #Marinette #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU #Quantic Kids #felinette

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Say You’ll Remember Me (Songbird Chapter 1)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: After performing at open mic night at a bar downtown, Reader meets someone that could change everything for her. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut (oral sex - male and female receiving, fingering, male masturbation, cockwarming, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie), Language Word Count: 7.1k

SERIES MASTERLIST SERIES PLAYLIST (new songs added with the release of each chapter)

***

Love never came easy to me. Truth be told, a lot of things never came easy to me, and I was okay with that, but love was probably the one thing I wish I could just let myself feel with no problem.

For as long as I could remember, I've wanted to be in love with someone as much as I'd seen my parents love each other. My older sister got a boyfriend when she was 17 and I was 11, and they've been together ever since. They're married with two children now, and just as in love now as they'd been when they met.

I've never seen anyone love the way I've seen my family love, but for some reason I was never able to give as much as them. I mean, I felt love obviously, but it was never that all-consuming, life-changing love that was supposed to make your head spin and your soul ache.

Maybe I just never found the right person, but every relationship I've ever been in ended because of my inability to give out as much love as I was given. And that's not to say that I didn't care about the people I've dated, they were all really great people in fact... But I could never fully be in it, you know? Some people give their all to another person, would do anything and everything for them if it meant they got to spend the rest of their lives together, but I never felt that. Sure, I could have settled in any of my relationships, but if I was going to actually spend my time building a life with another person, I was going to really feel like I needed it to survive. Or, like I deserved it, if I was going to go that far.

For the past few years I've pretty much given up on relationships. I've been on a few dates, had a few hookups here and there, but at this point I was almost certain that love wouldn't find me any time soon.

However, the one thing that filled that love-shaped void in my soul was music. Words, melodies, stories... It all made me feel the way I was convinced love was supposed to make you feel. Even if I never wrote songs about my (positive) experiences with love, I loved love songs, and most music in general. That was the one thing I was sure of. Music was the one and only love I knew I could count on. It kept me safe, it ensured that I wasn't alone, and it hugged me in a way where I've never felt more at home.

Which would explain why I was here on a Friday night, singing in front of an entire crowded bar. Performing and sharing my music with people was the best way I knew how to outwardly show... well, anything about myself, really. I didn't go to open mic nights often, but when I did it felt better than anything in the world.

Tonight was... different, though. Not in a bad way, of course, but there was something in the air that made me feel like something great was going to happen.

It was the same feeling I got whenever I knew I was about to get laid.

Now, say what you want about it, about me, but even if I sucked at finding love I sure knew how to have one-night stands. I loved sex. It was another way I was able to get that happy rush of feelings while being with another person without actually having to be in love with them. Truly, sex was the perfect outlet for me, and my music was a great tool that helped me get it. Not that I needed help—if I wanted sex bad enough I could easily look for it—but the fact that I could play several instruments and sing well definitely made things easier.

And tonight I wanted it bad.

I hadn't realized it until I tried to figure out what song to sing for open mic night, and in turn came to the conclusion that I hadn't had sex with another human being in about a month. Which wasn't a bad thing by any means, but it didn't change the fact that I wanted someone else to help me out in chasing that high this time.

So I opted to go with a cover of a song I knew would do the job no matter what. I brought my electric guitar with me and mirrored the Wildest Dreams performance that Taylor Swift did from the GRAMMY Museum. The song itself was sexy and sweet, but with the electric guitar and the electric guitar only, it made for less sweet and more sexy. I'd always loved that performance from the second I saw it, so as soon as I was able, I bought an electric guitar and taught myself to play it. It was a hit every time I performed it.

I was wearing a maroon, long sleeved turtle-neck crop top that exposed my belly-button ring (which was sparkling silver and caught the light in the bar beautifully, if I were to say so myself), a pair of tight jeans, and black glittery heels that I only ever pulled out when I was feeling brave. My hair was half-up and half-down, leaving a good amount of my face exposed which donned silver eyeliner, sheer lip gloss, and my eyebrow ring. Paired all together with my black and white guitar and shiny nail polish that matched the deep maroon of my shirt, I felt hot as hell. Better than I'd felt in a while if I was being honest.

It felt even better when I was performing. I was confident in my abilities as a musician, to which I considered myself fortunate. If only I could have been that confident in other departments, I feel like I would have been dead-set for life.

But tonight I didn't want to think about that.

I played the song just as well as I had every other time. Probably even better, if only for the fact that I was working to get myself a lay. But whatever the scenario, I was feeling good and that's all I'd ever wanted to accomplish.

I saw him immediately after I sang the last note and the final chord of my guitar faded out into the applause.

He's just... where my eyes decided to wander, I guess. I don't know exactly what it was, but I was thankful for it, even though I almost forgot to breathe with the way he looked back at me. I couldn't tell what color his eyes were because of how far away he was, but I'd have bet on my life that they were some shade of brown. He bit his lip rather nervously when he noticed me staring at him, unable to tear my eyes way, but nevertheless he kept his gaze trained on me. It was so strong I could have sworn they burned holes into my soul.

Or, more likely, my libido.

Either way, I knew it then, when I packed up my guitar and walked through the crowd to find him, that I wasn't going home alone for the first night in weeks.

That was a good feeling.

So good, in fact, that I allowed myself to be a little more vulnerable than normal. It wasn't anything huge, but it also wasn't like me at all.

While generally, guys are more notorious to be the ones kicking out the women after a one-night stand, I always found it the opposite. I hated waking up in the morning and having to kick some dude out of my apartment. They always put up some sort of fight when it came time to leave, and I didn't get why. All the women I've hooked up with were easier to communicate with on that front, so I didn't mind as much, but still made it a point to be the one coming and going no matter who I slept with.

There was something different about this guy, though. Again, my sex drive was probably getting the better of me, so it maybe wasn't the best idea to let him come to my apartment, but I truly believe that a part of me wanted this man to see where I lived. I... don't know what it was, or why it happened, but it felt exciting. It felt new. It sparked some newfound adventure in me that I didn't really know I craved until I had it.

That being said, I could almost tell immediately within minutes of talking to him that he was going to be a hard one to get to leave. But the thing is...

I didn't mind that.

Something deep inside me wanted to feel what it was like to wrap this man around my finger, to have him so invested in me that he didn't want to leave me, and it was a weird feeling. I didn't know what to do with it, exactly, other than test the waters and see what was going to come of it.

He was about to tell me his name. That's when I started to realize it was a bad idea, and I was already in a vulnerable position. So I held my hand out to his face, pressing my pointer finger to his lips and seductively licking my own.

"No names. Is that okay?"

Something in those brown eyes (I was right) practically begged me to let him say his name, and a part of me wanted to know what it was just so I could scream it. But I knew that if I knew his name, I was ultimately going to be in trouble.

Like I said, there was something different about him. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't want to know because if I did, then I was going to be even deeper in uncharted territory. Besides, if anything the mystery of having no names would make this even sexier. Right?

Reluctantly he nodded, and I slid my finger down his lips and under his chin, then over his throat. I saw the goosebumps form on his skin as I went lower, lightly over the navy blue sweater he was wearing and stopping at his lower stomach. I grabbed one of his belt loops and pulled him close to me, smiling softly as his eyes never stopped searching mine.

"You ready to show me a good time, Pretty Boy?"

He exhaled at the nickname , but I couldn't tell if it was from nerves or what... Either way, he said, "Yes," and I twisted his belt loop tighter with a wink.

***

She was the most captivating woman I think I'd ever seen.

She commanded every room she was in, made everyone pay attention to her, and even if she couldn't sing or play the guitar the effect would have been the same. Granted, I only ever saw her in the bar. So, technically only one room.

But it was about to be two.

I didn't even want to be in the bar, and I was going to leave since Derek, Emily, and Penelope ditched me for their own endeavors, but at the very last second a voice in the speakers cut through the radio-generated music announced that someone would be performing, officially kicking off open mic night.

It wasn't that that stopped me. But it was her name.

Y/N.

I had to wonder if, when she said, 'No names," she remembered or even knew that I'd already known it. Or maybe she just didn't want to know my name. Whatever that meant, it didn't deter me in any way from trying to take up any space or time that she had. After she locked eyes with me on stage, I sent out so many signals, hoping to whatever higher power was up there, if any, that she would come to me. I just... needed to know her. To see her up close.

Truthfully I don't know what made me think I had the right amount of confidence or skill to do anything other than babble incoherently or just stare in her presence, but thankfully she didn't have much of a knack for talking.

When she finally stood in front of me, I didn't know where to look. I knew ultimately that I should look at her face, but damn it if I couldn't help but look at all of her, my stomach naturally doing flips when I caught sight of her belly-button ring, and... Her hands... Good God, I couldn't stop staring at her hands. I realized once she was closer that that's mainly what I looked at while she was on stage. The way her fingers worked the guitar, making it look like it was the easiest thing in the world, it was enough to send me into a tailspin.

Truthfully I don't think there was one single flaw about her. Naturally all human beings have flaws, but as far as I could tell, from this first meeting, this woman was nothing but an angel sent from Heaven, specifically to destroy me.

My favorite part about her, though, was by far her voice. I didn't listen to much mainstream music, but if it sounded anything like that, then I wanted to hear all of it.

Forget angel... She was a siren.

Yeah. That was the perfect way to describe her.

And when she touched me...

I'm pretty sure I blacked out.

I say pretty sure, because I distinctly remember telling her, "Yes," when she'd asked me indirectly to leave with her, but everything else only came in one-second flashes. A moment where I was in her car, and more clearly a moment when she pulled me out of it and shoved me against the door after she closed it, running her glorious hands through my hair and attacking my neck with harsh, sloppy, butterfly-inducing kisses.

But I made myself remember when we were actually in the apartment, because there was no way I was going to let myself forget that moment.

So I was completely well-aware of everything around me when she unlocked the door, pulled me inside, and shoved me against another door for a second time that night. This time she kissed my lips, and I all but melted into her. Her tongue didn't waste any time slipping into my mouth, but I didn't waste any time trying to fight it. I would have given her anything she wanted, she didn't even have to ask for it.

That being said, she broke away from me, looked me dead in the eye, and asked, "Can I take your pants off?"

I nodded eagerly, choking out a breathy, "God, yes," as best as I could.

That seemed to be what she was looking for, because she all but groaned as she squatted on the floor and worked at my belt. I didn't know what to do with myself, my hands seeming to wander aimlessly before settling behind me on the door. Once she got my pants down, she looked up at me through those silver-painted eyelids and leaned forward, pressing a hot, wet kiss to my dick through my underwear.

Any other time in this sort of situation, I most likely would have felt embarrassed by whimpering the way I did, but seeing the primal lust widen her eyes as I did it completely erased any doubt I ever had. By the time she pulled my boxers down and licked a large, slow line up the underside of my dick, those doubts were completely wiped off the board, no evidence of them ever having been there.

I wanted to look at her more than anything, to memorize the way she looked wrapped around me, but my eyes wouldn't stay open. Everything I was feeling, every sensation that ran through my veins, every hot lick of her tongue as it swirled around my tip, every small stroke of her hand when she took a break to whisper filthy things to me... It all rendered me completely unable to think straight.

At one point I was almost at the breaking point, and she knew it, too, because she pulled away from me completely and stood straight, running one of her hands along the inside of my thigh as she went up. I opened my eyes to meet her, her mouth slick with a smear of her lip gloss and her saliva. She looked like she was on the brink of tears, but none of them had fallen. But the gleam in her eye, that's what stood out to me. She was so utterly consumed with burning desire that I would have done anything to satiate every need she had.

She waited a beat, studying my face and the way my lips were no doubt still smeared with her lip gloss. And then she grabbed one of my hands and brought it to cup her crotch, tilting her head to the side and practically sighing at the touch.

"Aren't you going to return the favor, Pretty Boy?"

My first instinct was to tell her I needed a second to breathe. But somehow I knew I wouldn't be breathing well regardless of what happened. I stumbled out of my shoes and pants as quickly as I could, using my hand to lightly rub along the seam of her jeans. As soon as I was free of constraints, I made a point to turn us around so she was the one with her back against the door. I helped her pull her pants off, and once they were, along with her heels, I draped one of her legs around my shoulder so the process would be easier for the both of us.

I've only ever gone down on a woman a few times, so it was safe to say I was a little nervous that I wouldn't be able to satisfy her. But even if I hadn't had much practice, I knew I was a good listener. I practically read people for a living, and I knew how to read behavior and body language. So I knew that that would be my strong suit here.

That being said, I did have some idea of where to start. So I looked up at her while I brought my tongue out to her panties, lightly dragging the tip of it along the seam that met the corner of her thigh. On my way to the other side I pressed the lightest of kisses to where her clit would be through the fabric, and then repeated the process a few times, feeling her squirm beneath me. Once I could tell she was getting close to frustrated, I made it a point to drag my tongue upwards in a long swipe until I reached her clit. I kissed it again before using one of my fingers to come up and slide under the fabric, though not pushing it entirely aside.

She sighed out as my finger ran along the very tops of her lips. When I pushed it in just the slightest, gathering her wetness as my tongue still gently worked at her clit through her panties, I took the moment to look up at her.

If she wasn't already the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and in that moment she was even more perfect, her lip bit and her eyes on the verge of fluttering closed, I could only imagine what she would look like when I was inside of her.

I almost collapsed thinking about it, but went back to my task quickly, knowing that if I stopped thinking for once in my life then I wouldn't have to imagine it, and I could experience it instead.

So I finally pulled her panties aside and used the tip of my tongue again to taste her, just as lightly as I'd done it before. Only rather than fabric I was met with the smooth, slick taste of her pussy. I think I could actually hear her tremble under me as I flicked my tongue over her clit a few times, though everything I was feeling in that moment was so strong that it was more likely that I was losing every ability to think straight.

As time progressed I deepened my every movement, bringing my tongue deeper and harder through her gradually until the point where I was practically eating her out like a man starved. You could argue that I was starved for her in every sense of the word, but that moment wasn't about me. I was focused solely on making her feel good, paying attention to how tightly she gripped my hair when I briefly sucked on her clit, or the way she bucked her hips forward whenever I pushed my tongue inside of her as far as I could will it.

She seemed to like it best, though, when my fingers pumped slowly in and out of her in tandem with each swirl of my tongue around her clit. I took my time, savoring every second I could as my eyes stayed shut. I could barely keep them open.

When I finally did look up her, that seemed to finally be the thing that pushed her over the edge. Well, started to, anyway.

"Wait," she breathed, and for a second I thought maybe I'd done something wrong. I pulled away from her and raised an eyebrow, and all she did was look down at me, her eyes just as lust blown as they'd been before, if not even more. "I want you to edge me, can you do that? Just... keep bringing me there, but don't give me what I want. Not until I tell you to."

"Anything," I told her truthfully, keeping my eyes locked with hers as I brought my tongue to her once more. She shuddered under my touch as I worked at her clit again, quickly flicking over it as my fingers came up to hold her hips. It wasn't long before I brought her to the edge for the second time that night, and this time when I pulled away, I leaned my head into her thigh, pressing soft kisses to the inside. She was so focused on watching my face that she must not have noticed my fingers coming to slide into her again. She fluttered her eyes closed and leaned her head against the door with a soft thud as I fingered her, quickly picking up the pace as my tongue came out to lick at her thigh before I bit into it softly.

"Fuck, you're so fucking good with your hands," she managed to say through a moan.

I laughed a little, glancing over at her hands briefly and just letting the words fly from my mouth. "You're one to talk. The way you played that guitar? The way you touch me? Good God..."

She hummed hungrily, opening her eyes and pulling me up by my hair to pull me away from her. Her leg dropped from my shoulder and I stood up to meet her, towering over her by a good four to five inches.

For a moment we just stood there and stared at each other, both pants-less and desperate for each other but unwilling to do anything about it.

Until she pulled at my hair, craning my head to the side so she had access to my neck before running one of her hands down the side of my face, neck, and finding purchase gripping my shoulder. Her nails lightly scratched at my skin, sending a mess of goosebumps down my whole body, right before she took the other one and grabbed my bare ass.

"Baby, I've barely even touched you, yet."

I don't know what it was that made me so bold, but I smirked as both of her hands squeezed, causing her fingernails to leave indents into the skin on my right shoulder and my left ass cheek. "Touch me, then."

She was more than happy to oblige. Within seconds, both of her hands were slipping up my sweater and roaming my back and stomach as she leaned up and kissed me again. I met her lips happily, allowing her all the access she wanted to my tongue. At this point I was growing restless, wanting more than anything in the world to have her push me onto the bed, or the couch, or even the floor, and do to me whatever she saw fit.

My desperation must have broke the surface somehow, manifested in a way I hadn't noticed, because she laughed against my mouth, pushing me away and ripping off her shirt in one fluid motion. Which left her in only a grey bra that matched her panties.

"Take off your shirt," she said.

I didn't hesitate, doing as I was told and tossing it on the floor with our other clothes.

"Go sit on the couch."

I went there as quickly as I could, only feeling slightly embarrassed being the only one completely naked. But almost as soon as I sat down on her couch—truthfully one of the most comfortable ones I'd ever been on—she'd come up behind me and started massaging my scalp. I closed my eyes at the way it almost lolled me to sleep. If she did that any longer, I'm sure I would have.

Eventually, though, she slid her fingers down my neck and over my shoulders, resting them finally on my bare chest and drawing circles. She brought her lips down to my right ear and grazed it with her teeth before whispering, "Touch yourself for me? Go slow."

I didn't have to be told twice. As I'd quickly learned, I was pretty sure this woman could have done anything she wanted to me and I wouldn't have rejected her.

My hand firmly gripped my dick and went slow, just like she'd asked. With every long, meaningful stroke, she mirrored it with a swipe of her tongue along my neck. Her hands remained at my chest, reaching down to circle my nipples in very light, goosebump-inducing motions.

"Faster," she told me, and I listened. Each stroke of my hand was met with even faster, sloppier kisses along my neck and jawline, and I could have sworn I felt her fingernails digging themselves harshly into my chest.

"Faster."

By this point I was occasionally bucking my hips forward to meet my hand, and Y/N laughed lowly against my jaw, mumbling against it. "You wanna cum, Pretty Boy?"

"Not... Not yet," I stuttered truthfully.

"Aww," she cooed, tilting my head to the side and giving me a kiss on the mouth. It was probably the sweetest kiss we shared that night. "You want to cum inside me, don't you?"

She kissed me again immediately after she said it, and I moaned into her mouth, my hand working faster. If she didn't stop me, I was going to be done for, and I knew I wouldn't be able to go again. Not for a few hours at least. And I didn't know how long she'd want me to stay, or what we would even do while we waited.

Thankfully she seemed to take some semblance of pity on me, because she brought her hands away from my body, pulling back completely and telling me to stop.

I removed my hand and practically sighed in relief. I waited for further instruction, a sound, a touch, anything... But I almost had the wind knocked out of me when she appeared in front of me, having taken off her bra and underwear. What I found shouldn't have surprised me, but somehow it did. This woman was just full of surprises.

She had nipple piercings that matched the silver color of her eyebrow ring, not sparkly like the belly-button ring, but it was the cherry on top to what I'd already found practically perfect in every way.

As she sauntered to me, I couldn't decide where to look. Much like before. So I started from the bottom and worked my way up, eventually meeting her eyes when she straddled me on the couch and took my face in her hands.

"You clean?"

"Yes," I stated clearly, not wanting any signals to get crossed. I even nodded to accentuate my point.

"Good. Me, too. And I happen to be on birth control, so..." She leaned into my ear again and ground her hips into mine, the hot wetness of her pussy slightly grazing my dick. I almost fainted right there. "You can cum inside me all you want..."

She bit down on my shoulder then, and I groaned, bringing my hands to rest at her hips.

Then she pulled back and looked me in the eye again, grabbing my dick and lifting her hips to hover above it. She sunk down completely and quickly, letting me adjust to the feeling for all of two seconds before she gripped my chin in her right hand and smiled, batting her eyelashes. "But only when I tell you. You can't cum without my permission, got it?"

I breathed out a weak, "Yes," and then she got up and sank right back down, setting a quick and steady pace right away.

Both of her hands gripped my shoulders while mine stayed planted firmly around her waist, and if they were too tight she didn't say. In fact, by the look on her face I judged she probably enjoyed how tightly I was gripping her. So I decided to test it out. And sure enough, every time I let up my grip on her waist she would clench around me and move a little faster, making my grip tighten, and then she hummed, digging her nails into my shoulders.

Every high moan and whimper she let out as she rode me was just as melodic and beautiful as her voice when she sang. Added to the way she moved and the way she worked her hands, she was a rhythm all her own, constantly creating some sort of song, some piece of art that begged to be heard, to be felt in the deepest part of any soul that would embrace it...

I wanted it to last forever. I wanted to drown in her song forever.

Maybe that was a little dramatic. I mean, I only just met this woman under two hours ago at least (I wasn't sure how much time had passed truthfully), didn't know a single thing about her other than her first name, her musical ability, and her body. And all she knew about me was... well, my body.

Regardless, I was determined to make this last as long as I could, so I let go of her hips and brought my fingers to comb lightly through her hair, bringing her head up from the crook of my neck to meet mine, our foreheads touched together.

As if she knew what I was thinking, she slowed her hips, and then pressed her lips to mine gently. I'm pretty sure I felt my heart melt.

"What's wrong? Not gonna last much longer?"

I couldn't tell if it was a taunt or a genuine question. Either way, I shook my head and cradled her face. "I don't think so... But I want this to last."

"Hmm," she contemplated, but not for long, because seconds later she stopped moving her hips altogether and stayed sitting on my dick. She leaned back a little, bringing her hands to rest on her thighs as she took me in. "Well, then I guess I'll have to get creative."

I genuinely had no clue what she was about to do, but when she moved one of her hands to her breast and pinched at her nipple, I didn't care one way or the other. I was curious, sure, but ultimately I knew I would welcome whatever she did.

"I noticed you've been eyeing my piercings all night," she said sweetly, continuing to play with her nipples. She bit her lip softly before grinding down onto me and making me suck in a breath. "But I have to say, these two are my favorites... Aren't they pretty?"

"Fuck, they're beautiful," I breathed, splaying my hands over her stomach. "You're beautiful..."

"Aww,” she drawled. “Thanks."

Then she promptly removed her hands from herself, grabbed my wrists, and brought them to her breasts. My hands instinctively squeezed, feeling the contrast of soft skin and cold metal in my palms. I licked my lips before flicking my eyes up to meet hers. "Can I?"

"You can do whatever you want, baby," she purred, grinding her hips once more. A groan ripped from my throat before I leaned forward and brought her right nipple into my mouth, immediately swirling my tongue around the metal of her piercing. I think she might have groaned also, but I was so caught up in the way she grinded onto me and the feel of her skin on my tongue that I couldn't tell you for sure.

I kissed across her chest until I reached her other nipple, and gave it the same careful attention. Meanwhile I suddenly felt her hand slip down between our bodies so she could touch her clit. I brought my head up and peppered kisses up her neck.

"Let me help," I whispered against her skin, bringing one of my hands to replace hers.

She grabbed my wrist before I could get there. "No, keep doing what you're doing. Please..."

And that was that. I moved my mouth back down her neck, down the slope of her breast, and went back to flicking and swirling my tongue over her nipples. Eventually I took one and just slightly tugged at it with my teeth, causing her to buck her hips forward and send a shockwave of energy through me. At that point I was pretty sure I was almost feral with need, not caring how long it took anymore.

So right after she brought herself to orgasm, the movements on her clit slowing to a stop, I shifted our weight and pinned her to the couch so that her back was arched off the armrest. With an amused laugh, she wrapped her legs around my waist as I held one of my hands to the back of her head, the other on her waist, and pushed into her with one, long, fluid thrust forward.

I didn't waste any time with adjustments. I didn't care that my knee was only slightly hurting at the angle it was placed in. The only thing I cared about right then was fucking this woman so good she'd have to remember me. Which wasn't like me at all, but I didn't care.

So that's what I did. My hips set a ruthless, quick pace that had her sliding back until she was almost off the couch, the only thing keeping her anchored being my arm cradling her neck and head and her legs wrapping around my waist. Her heels dug brutally into my lower back, and if I had to guess, they were probably going to leave bruises. Not to mention her hands were clawing desperately at my shoulders to hold on, grabbing any skin she could as I pounded her into the arm of the couch.

I tried to keep my head up, but I was falling into oblivion. And I think she knew it, too, because she used her hands to keep me upwards, even doing so much as looking down between our bodies as best as she could to see me drilling my hips forward. The sight seemed to send her into a tailspin, because she bit her lip and groaned out.

"Fuuuuck, baby, just like that, don't stop, don't stopdon'tstopdon'tst—"

She came hard and fast, trying her best to keep her eyes open, right before looking up at my face. She clenched around me, and I knew I was done for. Any second now and I would finish. Just before it happened, she slid her hands up my neck, brushed the hair from my face, and brought me down to kiss her.

I moaned in her mouth as I came, keeping my hips pressed flush to hers and holding myself deep inside her. She moaned right back, swiping her tongue against mine as she squeezed her whole body around me and pulled me impossibly closer to her. In that moment, I didn't feel like it was just an orgasm... Which might sound cheesy and kind of stupid in retrospect, but it really felt that way. Right then, with her whole body holding mine and daring itself not to let go, it felt like every sense I had was stripped away and all that was left of me was her. As good as it felt to cum, it felt even better just being wrapped up in her in every capacity.

And that was why—even after we were finished and exhausted—we stayed just like that, wrapped up together on the couch with our lips moving lazily together until I felt myself start to drift off.

At that point, she'd somehow managed to pull me off of her and lean me back into the position I'd been in before, and my eyes struggled to stay open.

"I'm gonna go clean up," I thought I heard her say, and I wondered how she had the energy and stamina to stand up and walk around. But then again, I was so exhausted that I wasn't sure if anything that happened after we came down from our highs was even a coherent experience.

That being said, I managed to mutter an "Okay," while she disappeared and I tried to catch my breath. It only took about a minute before I realized that I was alone, and that she'd left to clean up the mess that I made. That seemed to snap me out of it, though not by much; I was still a little light-headed when I got up from the couch and started to collect my clothes from the floor.

I almost had my pants all the way on when I heard her voice from behind me.

"You don't have to leave... if you don't want."

I turned to face her, noticing that she was wearing a large nightshirt and probably nothing else. Even after she'd just gotten obliterated on the couch she still managed to look like the most angelic thing I'd ever seen. Or maybe I hadn't actually done as well as I thought, and she was the one who'd obliterated me... Either way, I felt bad for staying, especially knowing that she didn't even want to know my name.

So I shrugged, stifling a yawn. "No, it's fine, I... I should go. I don't want to intrude or anything, I—"

"Oh, please," she scoffed, walking up to me and placing a soft hand on my forearm. "As far as intrusion goes, I think we're way past apologies, don't you think?"

I smiled at that, admittedly leaning into her touch as her hand drifted up and to my cheek. "Okay. But only if you let me sleep on the couch."

"Don't be silly. You just fucked me on said couch, it's okay if you sleep in my bed with me."

I only shook my head, placing my hand on top of hers. "You didn't even want to know my name, which tells me that you probably aren't the type of woman to let men sleep in your bed with you after sex. Which is fine, don't get me wrong, but... I don't want to make you uncomfortable. And, I... I feel bad enough, I didn't help you clean up, I should have—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," she said, removing her hand from my cheek and placing it on my bare chest instead. "That right there is why I don't mind if you sleep in my bed. Plus, it's late, you don't have a ride, and I can tell you're sleepy because you've been nodding off as we've been standing here. You can barely stand straight."

I didn't know what to say. Probably because she was right and I was nodding off right now.

She spoke again. "At least stay and rest for a few hours before you leave. And if it'll convince you to stay... You can have the couch."

I smiled lazily, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll be gone before you wake up."

"Well... In that case, can... Can I kiss you one more time?"

"You can do anything you want to me," I told her truthfully, and not even a second passed before she pressed her lips to mine.

Despite everything we'd just done and the fact that I was almost asleep, it was the hottest kiss we shared that night. I was sure of it. It was lazy and wet, and so filled with the aftermath of all that we'd experienced together that I almost fell to my knees, and not because I was tired. Her tongue grazed mine in the most purposeful way I'd ever felt in a kiss my entire life. The way she held me to her, her hands weaved in my hair and mine pressed firmly to the small of her back, had me tingling from head to toe.

To this day, it's still the best kiss I've ever had.

I swore to myself I would never forget that kiss, and I never have. I couldn't have, even if I tried.

When she pulled away, I almost chased her, but I let her go, opening my eyes to stare deeply into hers. She didn't move for the longest time before clearing her throat and taking a small step back.

"Goodnight," she whispered softly. She looked almost as dazed as I felt.

"Goodnight," I whispered back as she turned around and padded into the darkness.

***

As I stood at her kitchen counter four hours later, a pen in hand and hovering over the back of a receipt she'd had crumpled on it, I tried to think of what to write, even though I knew it probably didn't matter to her one way or another if I said anything at all...

At the very least I wanted her to know just how much that night meant to me, even if she didn't feel the same way. Even if she didn't want to remember my name, I needed her to at least remember my face, remember what we did... Remember me...

I recalled the song she sang. And then I wrote it down.

I had the best night, thank you. Say you'll remember me... —S.

***

"Nothing lasts forever But this is gonna take me down."

—Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

***

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