#but also. I shouldn’t have had to practice their part for rehearsals…just…just saying……… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gisachi · 3 years

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Better late than never?? Supposed to post on the day itself but of course I couldn’t. This is my rushed contribution to the prompt: domestic mixed with black knight&princess.

ShinRan Week Day 6

Prompt: Domestic (+ Black Knight&Princess)

Words: ~2.5k

“Not just once, but twice! Who was it that saved my life again? Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what, uh, the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrow- sorrowful? - face under this moonlight. Oh wow this is cheesy.”

Ran leans on the arm of the couch, bound script covering her resigned face. If she had a hundred yen for every single complaint coming out of this detective’s mouth, she’d have enough to buy two entrance passes to Tropical Land for each day of the week, plus snacks and drinks.

“I went here because I thought you’d be a more immersive practice partner than ‘tou-san. You are worse.”

“I’m sorry, princess, if my mom being an actress ruined your expectations of me.”

“Oh, for sure. And otou-san doesn't destroy the scene by dropping nonsensical comments. And lie on the couch while reading the script. So he’s better by a lot.”

Shinichi props his body up, eyes rolling sarcastically before throwing a look at the lady on the edge. “To be fair, you came barging into my house so early on a Sunday. This is justified.”

“Shinichi, eleven in the morning isn’t early.”

With a stubborn grumble, the detective flops back into the cushions, script on his lap sliding to the floor. “ ’M tired Ran, long case last night, let me sleep.”

“Please, you’re my last option! School festival is in less than two weeks, and I can’t possibly ask Araide-sensei to spare time on a weekend outside of our rehearsal schedule when he’s busy working—”

The lightning speed Shinichi jolts upright causes Ran to cut herself short. “Araide-sensei is the cloaked knight?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Really? I-” she pauses, delayed in taking in the curt iciness of his response when he was so apathetic five seconds ago. On anyone else it’s clear what that tone implies, but she’s never heard it on him.

“Do you have a beef with Araide-sensei?” she asks.

“A beef?”

Ran arches an eyebrow, skeptic. Shinichi meets her gaze, eyes slightly thinning before glancing away, cheeks crimson.

“I mean— Why Araide-sensei? Shouldn’t he be busy, I dunno, being a doctor, than being a fictional knight or something.”

“All the guys in our class were too shy and declined, so Sonoko asked Araide-sensei when he happened to come in for a checkup. He agreed so easily! Would you believe he’d taken a lot of lead roles in plays when he was a student?”

“And that was fifteen something years ago.”

“He’s also good at things like emphasizing lines and handling a woman!”

“Anyone can- What?!”

“Stop being a sourpuss Shinichi, especially when you’re the first to decline.”

He looks at her quizzically. “I did?”

“You don’t even remember?” Amidst the faint pink on her cheeks, disappointment etched on the way Ran’s lips curve to a small pout. “You were the first Sonoko asked... You were so quick to turn her down, she said.”

Astounded by the revelations docking in his brain all at once, Shinichi struggles to recall the conversations he had exchanged with Sonoko the past weeks. None stands out. If she had included Ran’s name in there, he would remember instantly. But Sonoko didn’t. Suddenly, the floodgates in his mind open.

If he finds out later on about the plot and the cast, he’ll definitely find a reason or two to sulk, if not object. Whether Ran is partnered with someone else or Araide-sensei doesn’t matter, for as long as it isn’t him. Him who she’s positive would outright reject her offer to act as a prince because why would he? In any case, god knows Sonoko omitted Ran’s name on purpose for this.

The sly woman has stirred something up, and she will proudly take the front row seat on his reaction she was so sure he’d make.

Not saying Sonoko’s predictions are right. This is just how she thinks. And he won’t react the way she expects he will. She is not right.

Not. Right.

Sonoko, yaro...

“Stand up, let’s do this.”

“Huh?”

“You want immersive? I’ll give you immersive.”

Left with little time to process as Shinichi pulls her by the hand, Ran drops her script on the floor. The sudden shift in character is unbelievable. How can someone so sleep-deprived turn into someone this enthused in a span of a breath?

“But first, let me…” He leaves the room, and Ran picks up her script, still quite lost. Whatever she said earlier must have triggered something, and she’s torn if she’ll ask once he returns but considers the possibility that he may break character. Not gonna risk that. He said he’ll give her an immersive practice, and it’s oddly unexpected, but she’ll take it. This is good. After all, she needs him as the knight.

Wants him as the knight.

“Sheesh, Ran, stop…” Shying away from her own maidenly thoughts, Ran flips to the designated page, scene, and line, rehearsing as she waits.

Some minutes later, Shinichi reappears, holding his script and something else. Of all things she would expect him to own, a blue fancy Columbina mask adorned with elegant silver and royal patterns wasn’t one of them.

“Mom has these things, okay,” he explains, putting it on. Ran isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or tease, but she does neither when she gets a glimpse of him with half of his face covered, and she catches her breath at the sight.

Standing against silk red curtains and brilliant glow of afternoon sunlight, he really does seem like a mysterious knight…

“Don’t laugh, idiot. After doing this for you. Wear this,” he says, and Ran zeroes in on the line of his lips because she has nowhere else to look at as he places a small barrette tiara on her hair. Doesn’t matter what he says, what they wear, even if they fail to match the daintiness of the mask and tiara. Shinichi with this on makes Shinichi as the knight much more vivid now. And Ran as the princess...

“Sorry!” She claps a hand on her warming cheek, pulls back a dumb smile she doesn’t notice she is wearing. “And I— I wasn’t laughing!”

“Still smiling creepily though.”

“I wasn’t being creepy! Geez. Anyway! Page-”

“Page 27, Scene 8, Line 10. Got it.”

After some short blocking instructions, they drop their scripts on the couch, and begin.

“Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrowful face under this moonlight.”

Two steps forward and he removes the mask, and time slows down. She’s seen the same face a million times yet this time, her heart leaps like she’s laid eyes upon the most handsome face in the universe.

“Might—Might you be Spade?” She carries on, taking everything she can to maintain composure. “Long ago, you were banned from this land by my father… but now you’ve become the prince of Trump Kingdom...”

It’s nerve wracking, the way he’s strikingly still, eyes laden on her, either waiting for her next lines or admiring how beautiful she is with the tiara, she isn’t quite sure. The mask is gone, but he isn’t breaking character. Meanwhile, she’s trying her darned best to stay as Princess Heart of Bridge Kingdom.

“If you have… not forgotten about our childhood promise, then please…”

A nervous lump forms in her throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and his hands find her waist, and she nearly gasps but holds it in because right now, she’s Princess Heart, not Mouri Ran asking this of Kudou Shinichi. “Please, show me on these lips.”

“As my princess so desires...”

It should be ‘the’, not ‘my.’ And there’s supposed to be another line after that, but nothing stops him as he leans in ahead of time and her eyelids flutter to the erratic beat of her heart. It’s better to be partnered with Araide-sensei in this after all. He will not mess up his lines, and she will not lose her mind the way she’s losing it now.

Two parted lips are a pucker away when the doorbell chimes, making both jolt.

Ran is first to snap out of character, as if she hasn’t had the urge to earlier.

“That—That must be Sonoko. I forgot to tell you... I invited her in.”

“Oh, great,” Shinichi says.

Forcing her limbs into working order, Ran disentangles slowly, drawing a distance. Shinichi glances at the mask in his hand, then at her, before tossing it to the couch and turning for the door. From the window, she watches him walk to the front gate, scratching the back of his head in an annoyed manner like she just woke him from sleep, but grumpier. She hasn’t seen him display much emotion on a Sunday noon the way she’s seeing him now.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered him, she sighs, her turn to slump onto the couch this time.

“As I was saying, the prod already scouted the finest material for the costumes, and I decided, pink suits Princess Heart— Hello? Are you listening?”

Ran nearly drops the knife she holds if not for her inhuman reflexes. “Of course! Princess Heart in pink! Yes.” Like nothing happened, she resumes slathering jam and butter on the toast she’s preparing for the three of them. She doesn’t need to look at her side to know Sonoko’s eyeing her from head to toe.

“What happened to her?” The woman turns to Shinichi who sits at the high stool by the kitchen island.

“Dunno,” he says, sounding as noncommittal as he probably appears. Her back is turned against him, but she can see his face, and god why is she blushing?

“I just helped her rehearse. For the play,” he adds.

“Oh?” Sonoko’s brow perks up her forehead, hair whipping as she turns between her and the boy across them. “Did you?”

“Yup. Page 27.”

The dramatic gasp that tears from their friend’s throat is exactly the kind of gasp they expected; even so, Ran still flinches as Shinichi’s stool rakes the floor. “You kissed and I didn’t see?!”

“Hah?!”

“No!”

The two yelp in unison.

“That’s sly! You have to do it again! I’ll judge.”

“Excuse you! It didn’t happen, what you’re thinking!”

“Sonokooo!”

“Oh, shush, Ran, this is good practice. Good practice.”

“But—”

“Relax, rehearsal is rehearsal! In the actual play, once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job—”

“I’m going to the toilet,” Shinichi gets off the stool, jaw stiff, out of the kitchen.

“—with a hug than a kiss. Right?” Sonoko ends, once Shinichi is out of the room.

“What?” Ran’s expression is inscrutable as she faces Sonoko completely, the flush across her face befitting embarrassment or ire. “You’re losing me here!”

“Oh, you’re not going to kiss, Ran. The lights will dim before your lips touch.”

“Then why—” she puts down the bread and walks in haste to the island to flip through the script, “Wh— That’s not in here!”

“Sonoko-sama hereby deems the script revised now that we have Araide-sensei.”

“Eh...?!” Ran cannot explain the play of her reactions. On one hand, a cloud is cleared from her mind, having to worry no more about doing something she has no experience with in front of watchful eyes. On the other, bunch of half-formed thoughts whirl through her mind that goes, Shinichi and I almost kissed for nothing, for nothing we almost k-kissed, an almost kiss with Shinichi, almost—

“That won’t do! I mean— That’s so not you! T-To choose a hug over a...”

“Duh, Ran! Even if it’s just a play, I won’t enable a kiss scene between a student and a staff member. We can fake the kiss. That, or switch to hug. Or better yet, change the male lead.”

“Change the male lead? In two weeks? Who will agree?!”

“Easy.” Just in time, Shinichi returns, hands in pocket and long face worn all the way to the stool. “I know someone who will.”

‘Once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job…’ What? Kissing Ran? Shinichi wants to puke. Sonoko needs to think things through. If this is part of her plan, it’s unacceptable, it sucks.

There’s no way, no way anyone can do a better job kissing Ran than…

“Aaaargh, what are you thinking!” He ruffles his hair in dismay, curses here and there. He only wanted to help Ran yet he almost went for it. Not as Spade but as himself. The audacity. It’s part of the script, sure, but—

If it is part of the script, then have Ran and Araide-sensei rehearsed it before?

“That’s it,” Shinichi huffs, storming out of the bathroom. If this is the kind of reaction Sonoko wants from him, she’s in for a show. Not just a show but a lifetime of curses and mental stabs. For her to go this far is unbelievable. Did Ran even agree to that? Will such a scene really happen in the play? No matter how despicable Sonoko’s methods are, he has faith she respects Ran’s preference as the female lead. No offense against Araide-sensei, but he cannot take Ran’s first kiss, whether as Spade or not.

That is not to say he knows Ran’s preference, especially when it comes to a first kiss, but… it’s not... Araide-sensei... is it?!

He cannot ascertain, not when Ran did nothing when they were about to kiss…

Okay, halt there, self. I said immersive. That’s immersive. She was acting.

All was but an act. She’s a great actress. I suck. No need to make this a big deal.

Shinichi is a pitiful mess once he’s back in the kitchen.

“My offer still stands, you know.” Sonoko sits beside him, munching a toast, while Ran is busy returning the jam in the cupboard, back against them.

“Your offer?”

Shinichi glances at Ran, then at Sonoko, with that feral grin on her lips and Shinichi does a bad job looking pissed, and it’s maddening because he is pissed, just not obvious with the blush forming across his cheek.

Reprimanding Sonoko is what he intends to do. For doing him dirty, him and Ran dirty, for dragging a staff to be the male lead, for imploring Ran to give her first kiss she’s probably saving in a different setting. All invalid reasons, when he cared less about the play before. He’s a full-time idiot, and Sonoko knows it clearly that’s why she’s offering the role again. He doesn’t want to fall into her trap, the same way he doesn’t want anyone else to be Spade when Princess Heart is Ran.

But Ran looks over her shoulder and they accidentally lock eyes, and pink blooms across her cheeks before she turns around, and suddenly the words that leave his mouth completely betray the thought process he underwent in the bathroom.

“If Ran agrees, yeah,” he says.

#shinranweek2021 #day 6 #late entry #shinran #kudou shinichi #mouri ran #fanfic #oh my god this is all over the place AHAHA #i dont want to leave this in my draft forever tho so here ya go!!

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 2 years

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Under the Skin, part 2

You thought this might get happier in the second part? That's a hard no.

Pairing: Atticus Cogar x OFC

Word count: 2,322

Content advisory: nothing, unless you have a low threshold for angst in which case, hoo baby...

“Pretty nice setup,” you mumble.

“Yeah, not bad at all. What exactly are you doing?”

You’re trying to hide behind your sort of boyfriend Masada without making it look like you’re trying to hide behind your sort of boyfriend Masada, but unfortunately, you seem to have failed.

“Nothing, babe, I’m just…”

Trying to hide behind you so that I don’t accidentally make eye contact with my ex-boyfriend who’s sitting right over there.

“Some of my hair got caught in my zipper and I was trying to get it out.”

“Ow, damn. Can I help?”

“No, it’s ok, I got it.”

He smiles and rubs your shoulder, which should feel comforting but it doesn’t. Instead, it makes you feel exposed because he’s no longer a visual barrier between yourself and Atticus. Not that it matters because Atticus isn’t looking, he’s too busy talking with his brother and his 44OH buddies, and looking quietly proud of himself, which, given that this is his show that he booked, is reasonable. You still don’t want to see it.

Masada pulls you close and touches his lips to the crown of your head.

“I’m really glad you decided to come,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to, or that I was pushing things too fast, but I’m happy you’re here.”

He’s such a kind person where you’re concerned. And he’s so grounded and comfortable with himself and what he wants. And he never makes you feel like you’re too demanding, or like he doesn’t care how you feel, even though this is still very new and those sorts of misunderstandings would be totally normal… You wrap your arms around him and bury your head in his chest and try not to think about the fact that you’d probably pay Atticus money to let you touch him.

All week, you’ve been practicing the nonchalant reaction you’re going to give him when he inevitably finds out that you and Atticus used to date. You have a bank of phrases ready. Yeah, we went out for a while. We used to date. Wow, I hadn’t thought about that in a while. We went out, but he was kind of a douchebag. Yeah, I was going to tell you but I didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. Yes, you have been rehearsing for the moment your current sort of boyfriend finds out that you used to date the guy he’s fighting tonight so that you can pretend that it was no big thing and that you weren’t completely destroyed by it. You’ve resigned yourself to the fact that someone is going to say something to Masada, probably one of Atticus’s friends, hoping to get a rise out of him, so you decided that the best strategy is to let that happen and brush it off. If you told him about it yourself, you’d break.

You know it would have been better if you hadn’t come. Aside from the fact that your bank balance is a little thin for you to go jetting off to a show you aren’t even booked on, there was that uncomfortable incident at the show last week. Seeing him again, having him touch you again, kissing him again… it’s because of that that you decided to come here, and the worst part is that he’s going to know.

“Hey, man, good to see you again.”

You shudder as you recognize the voice of Rickey Shane Page. No reason he shouldn’t come over and say hello, of course. He and Masada have known each other for years. But he’s also your ex’s closest friend, ally, and co-conspirator. Him being around you feels like an invasion, even more so when you turn to look at him.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he smirks at you.

It’s uncanny how Rickey always manages to look like he’s laughing at you behind your back while staring you right in the face.

“Yeah, I guess it has been a bit,” you force yourself to respond.

For a few hellish seconds, you think he’s about to reveal your past relationship right there but instead he just fixes you with the most insincere smile you’ve ever seen and says, “Glad you could make it.”

Never has the appeal of getting smashed in the head with a chair until you pass out been so great.

There’s no way you’re actually going to make it through the whole night. You can’t imagine how you ever thought you were just going to be able to stand around waiting for Masada and Atticus to smash the living hell out of each other, pretending like nothing was happening. You do what you can to help out, so that you don’t feel like a complete asshole, and it’s a relief when you find a storage room where they keep the extra chairs and tables. That becomes your safe space, the place you go when you need a few seconds to breathe, which is more frequent than you’d like.

If Masada notices that you keep disappearing for a few minutes, he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he doesn’t notice because he’s focused. Or maybe he figures if there was a problem, you’d just tell him. Hell, maybe he thinks you’re not feeling well, which isn’t a bad thing to let him believe in case things become completely unbearable and you have to run away.

Someone does notice, though. You can feel his eyes on you when you leave the room every time. Even when you try to keep your distance, his stare finds you, jabbing at you like a dagger. Or a skewer.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Atticus leans in the door and peers around, like he’s expecting to find some grand explanation as to why you’re sitting in a supply closet.

“I have a headache, I was just trying to… I wanted some quiet.”

“Poor baby.”

He approaches very slowly and the pressure building in you makes your head actually start to hurt. Oh, the irony.

When he gets close, too close, he reaches up and runs his fingers over your scalp, massaging your temples with his thumbs.

“Does that help?”

It feels very nice but, no, it absolutely does not help.

“It’s ok,” you murmur, trying unsuccessfully to pull your head back, “you don’t have to.”

He keeps at it though, so gently, and his expression so compassionate that it’s almost enough to…

“In fact, I really think you should stop.”

This time you do pull back but not far. You should just walk out but you don’t. You stand there like an idiot and incline your face against his as his head falls against your shoulder. When he raises it and presses his lips into yours, it’s the most natural, obvious thing in the world. The two of you continue, the intensity rising until you’re bucking your hips against his the same needy way you always did, not that he seems to mind. In response, he grabs hold of you and pushes you right against the wall, his hands sliding up from your waist and under your shirt with a few little grunts.

You’re getting so carried away that you accidentally bang your head against the wall and it does seem to knock some senses into you.

“Stop it, we can’t be doing this.”

He presses his forehead against yours but doesn’t speak at first. When he does, it just about kills you.

“Why did you break up with me?”

“What?”

“Why did you break up with me?” A little louder this time.

“Atticus, how can you even ask me that?” You’re shocked at how uncomprehending he looks. “You picked fights with me about everything. You would go days without talking to me or responding to my messages and when I’d ask you about it, you’d say I was being clingy. You acted like you couldn’t care less if I was in your life or not. What was I supposed to do?”

“I warned you I was difficult.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think that meant it as a ‘take it or leave it’ deal. I didn’t realize meant that you weren’t willing to work on making things even a little bit easier.”

“There wouldn’t have been any point. You left.”

Somehow, the two of you are kissing again, your arms snaking around his neck and holding him so close you’re not sure whose heartbeat you feel against your ribcage. When you stop this time, it’s mutual, the two of you separating just enough to get some air.

“Your man’s going to wonder where you’ve gone.”

“He’s not… We’re just…” It’s like you feel your heart literally sinking through your body. “What does it matter? I’m still in love with you.”

“Does he know that?”

“God no. There’s no point. Just let me get on with my life and quit pretending like you want to be a part of it.”

Somehow, you muster the strength to push him aside and walk away, but your triumph is cut short when you trip on your way out the door. Atticus catches you before you fall and pulls you back up to your feet. One of his hands lingers on your hips.

“Don’t,” you snap.

“I thought you got lost,” Masada grins when you finally make your way back to the real world.

“Sorry, I was just…” As you try to think of something to say, you notice Atticus walking into the room, eyes fixed on you.

“Are you feeling ok?”

“Oh yeah. No. I mean, I’m not feeling great, no. I have a headache and my stomach is weird.”

He ruffles a hand through your hair.

“If you’d rather go back to the hotel and get some rest, I’m not going to take it personally or anything.”

Going back to the hotel would probably be the smart choice: you’d avoid having to see the two of them fight, you’d avoid any chance of another confrontation with Atticus, you could get away from the sneering expressions of his friends.

“No, I want to stay.”

He smiles in that world-weary way he has and you do feel like you’re a very lucky woman for having captured his interest. You wish it meant more to you.

Their match has barely started when you realize that you definitely should have gone back to the hotel. As rough as it usually is seeing Atticus get sliced and carved up, this is much worse. You’re supposed to be there cheering Masada on but instead you find yourself getting irrationally angry with him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. The two of them brutalize each other, it’s not like Masada is having an easy time, but it feels like Masada is somehow able to take it. You feel like Atticus is going to get hurt. You’re terrified of it.

They continue just battering each other and there are a few moments when you literally have to put your hands over your face to try to maintain some kind of composure. You also have to make sure that you stay out of sight of Atticus’ friends because if they see you on the verge of losing it, they’ll be only too happy to pass that information along.

In the end, contrary to what you were expecting, it’s Masada that prevails. There’s no pin, no proper submission. The ref stops it because Atticus can’t go on any more. At least someone is looking out for him.

What’s more shocking is that, even as the 44OH gang descend on the ring like a pack of hyenas, there’s no beatdown. Atticus stops them and, although you’re half-convinced you’ve imagined it, shakes Masada’s hand. What is even happening?

“Hey beautiful,” Masada groans when he gets backstang. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” you ask as you guide him into a comfortable looking chair.

“You were my inspiration there.”

“I was?”

“Yeah,” he grins, “you never told me that you used to go out with him. I found out ten minutes before the match.”

“Oh, wow,” you laugh, “that was a while back. Didn’t even seem worth mentioning.”

He chuckles and when he looks at you, you realize that you’ve done something completely unexpected: you’ve played this perfectly. You struck the perfect balance of honesty and nonchalnce and this man completely believes that your relationship with Atticus was no big deal. That makes one of you.

“I’ll go grab some bandages. Those ones are already looking like they’re ready to come off.”

You scurry off to collect bandages but you find yourself wandering around, dragging your feet, glancing through every half-open door. So it’s hardly a surprise when you notice Atticus in one of the bathrooms, rinsing himself off in the sink. You hesitate by the door, immediately wracked with the desire to walk up behind him and run your hands over whatever parts of his skin aren’t ripped open. It takes you a second to realize that he’s spotted you, and that he’s staring back at you through the mirror.

“I didn’t expect the handshake,” you stammer.

“I wanted to congratulate him,” he mutters, “on his big win.”

The way he looks at you, it feels like there’s a double entendre there, but you know that it’s just that that’s what you want to hear.

“Come in or stay out,” he says tonelessly.

It’s that same, coldly indifferent tone that he’s always had, the one you’d hoped was a put on, the one that kept you chasing after something you’re not sure actually exists. You have a good man waiting for you upstairs.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you can see tears starting to glaze your eyes, which means that he can see it too. So you hold yourself as steady as you can take a deep breath before you speak.

“Do you care either way?”

#wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

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yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

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IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART EIGHT

:Masterlist:

Warnings: just swearing, I think :)

A/N: oof I’m bad at posting on time but here’s part eight! thank you all for your feedback on the last part and feel free to let me know what you think about this part too <3

October 1994

“Ow.”

You groaned as you collapsed in the middle seat of the back of Bobby’s car, so tired that you practically fell asleep the second you got off your feet. It was your second weekend in a row of playing all day shows, and every part of your body was screaming at you in exhaustion.

“Remind me why we’re happy about this gig again?” Alex grumbled from the passenger seat, stretching out his no-doubt sore fingers.

Next to you, Reggie had slumped in his seat. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Even Luke, who was usually still full of adrenaline after a performance, looked a little deflated as he secured his guitar into the trunk and piled into the car. As soon as he sat down in his usual seat on your left, he dropped his entire weight on you, making you fall into Reggie.

“You okay there, Lu?” You asked as you sat as up-right as you could with him still leaning on your shoulder. He muttered sleepily in response and you laughed. “Guys, I think Luke’s dead.”

“I don’t blame him. I’m pretty sure that’s the hardest we’ve ever played.” Bobby sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive in the direction of Reggie’s house to drop him off. You relaxed into your seat, watching the lights fly by the window. You all sat in comfortable silence until Bobby pulled up to a red light and turned around to look at all of you. “Votes for just crashing at the garage?”

You agreed immediately since the studio was a lot closer than any of your houses, and having Bobby drive when he was tired probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

“I could definitely go for not going home.” Alex said and you smiled at him sympathetically. Reggie agreed and turned to ask Luke, but all he got was the sound of quiet snoring in response. You all laughed as Bobby turned around and started driving to his house.

The quiet rumble of the car on the road and the warmth of Luke’s skin against yours was making you more and more tired by the second. You leaned over and rested your head on top of his and closed your eyes.

The drive to the garage was shorter than you thought, but by the time you got there, you were practically ready to pass out.

It took all your energy to gently coax Luke out of your shoulder and hop out of the car to help Bobby unload the equipment out of the trunk and back into the loft. While you were up there, you grabbed a pile of sleeping bags and blankets to give to the boys who were now arguing over what to watch.

They settled on The Empire Strikes Back, per Reggie’s request. You watched it absentmindedly from your spot on the couch, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets. The more time went by, the more your tiredness faded away, leaving you restless and frustrated. When the movie reached the halfway point, you had officially given up on sleeping.

You didn’t realize that you were sighing until Luke, who was laying on the floor under your head, opened his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You muttered.

“It’s okay, I can’t sleep either.” Luke said. “Not when Alex snores like a bear.”

You laughed, looking over to Alex who was sleeping deeply across the room, his snore blocking out the sound of the movie. “Yeah, thank god he’s the only one that does that.”

“Are you trying to say that I snore?” Luke gasped, squinting when you laughed and nodded your head at him. After a minute of silence, Luke looked up at you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.” You said.

“Why didn’t you want to go home?” He asked. “Everything okay with your mom?”

“Yeah, she’s just been working a lot lately and it feels weird being home alone.” You said. “What about your mom?”

Luke was quiet for a minute, so quiet that you almost thought that he fell asleep until he let out a deep sigh. He had told you that things were getting rockier between him and his parents everyday but you could tell by the grimace on his face that something more was going on. “She threatened to make me quit the band.”

“Wait, what?” You said a little too loudly.

“I got an F on a test and she flipped out.” Luke explained. “But if I pass the next one, hopefully she’ll stay off me for a while.”

“I’m surprised that she even let you stay here tonight.” You said.

“Yeah, about that.” Luke cringed. “I didn’t exactly ask her.”

You sighed and shook your head. “You know she’s gonna kill you when you go home tomorrow, right?”

He rolled his eyes but then quickly switched to his puppy-dog look. “Come with me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna be your accomplice.”

“Please?” Luke begged. “She loves you, and there’s no way she’d kill me if you were there.”

You sighed, cursing yourself for not being able to resist his stupid face. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Luke beamed.

You reached your arm from the couch and pushed his face lightly. “Go to sleep, weirdo.”

2020

Being dead was boring.

You had poured over your songbook a dozen times, walked laps around the studio, and absentmindedly threw darts against the wall.

Normally, you would drag Alex out into the city or make Reggie sing country songs with you, but everyone was off getting ready for the gig tonight.

So with nothing better to do, you decided to visit Julie at school. You closed your eyes and poofed into the crowded hallway. You spotted Julie putting books into her locker and you phased right next to her.

“Hi.” You greeted and Julie jumped, letting out a quiet squeal.

“(Y/n)! Normal people don’t do that and ghosts definitely shouldn’t. “What are you doing here?” She asked, smiling awkwardly at people who were giving her weird looks as they passed down the hall.

“Well, I think we should decide what song we’re going with tonight.” You said and Julie tilted her head at you and squinted, knowing that you weren’t telling the whole truth. “Okay, and I was also really bored at the studio.”

“So I’m your entertainment?” She questioned as she dug her phone out of her pocket and raised it to her ear so it didn't look like she was talking to herself.

“Yep, you’re stuck with me.” You smiled sweetly.

“Who knew ghosts were so clingy?” She joked, struggling to hold back a smile when you pouted back at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with that mysterious guy from the café last night? Teddy?”

“I figured I’d be too busy getting ready for the gig so I just swung by and told him to come to the show.” You explained, making Julie raise her eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing.” She clicked her tongue. "I’m sure Luke is gonna love that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, Luke doesn’t get to have an opinion.”

“I don’t get to have an opinion on what?” A voice asked from behind you and you whirled around to find Luke leaning against the lockers with a smile. You had been so distracted talking to Julie that you didn’t even hear him phase in behind you.

“The fact that we’re doing ‘Edge of Great’ tonight.” You said quickly, desperately hoping that he bought your lie. Thankfully, he seemed to believe you.

“Sweet. That’s what I was thinking anyway.” He turned to Julie. “Hey, why not ditch school today? Let’s go rehearse!”

“What? No, I can’t. I promised my dad that school comes first. Plus, I have the dance with Nick today.” She reasoned and you smirked, thinking back at the way that he was staring at her at the dance.

“Ooh, Nick.” You teased and Julie glared at you. After a brief second, her eyes widened. You turned to see Nick walking towards her and you quickly grabbed Luke’s wrist and dragged him to the side so they could talk. "Speak of the devil."

“Hey, Julie!” Nick smiled warmly. “Ready for our performance?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna do great.” Julie shoved her phone into her bag, clearly trying not to look over at you and Luke who were watching with rapt attention.

“I’m glad you’re confident. I think that after three classes, I just got worse. But good thing I have my secret weapon.” Nick nervously shoved his hands in his pockets and you couldn’t help but smile at Nick’s way of awkwardly flirting.

Next to you, Luke whooped. “Oh, I think someone’s got a little crush on our Julie.”

You cringed a little as you looked over at him, expecting to see jealousy on his face. But if anything, he looked the exact opposite. Amused and eager to tease Julie about it, the same way he did back when Reggie tried to hit on girls after a gig. He caught you looking at him and softly smiled, a dramatic shift from the teasing smirk he had on a second ago.

“Shut up,” Julie said to Luke, cringing when Nick frowned at her. “I mean, shut up.”

“No, seriously, Molina. I’m nothing without you.” He said. You walked behind Nick, peering over his shoulder to make kissy faces at her which made Luke laugh.

"I'm sure you'll be great." She pushed his shoulder, making you jump back a little. “See you in there?"

“Yeah, I’ll be the guy trying not to make us look stupid.” You watched him walk away before turning to Julie.

"Julie, he totally likes you!" You laughed excitedly.

"Boundaries." She reminded you, but there was a smile on her face. You and Luke both raised your hands in surrender and she waved over her shoulder as she walked away. "I'll see you guys after school, okay?"

Once she was gone, Luke shook his head dramatically. "They grow up so fast."

You snorted. "C'mon, dork. Let's go rehearse."

After getting back to the studio, you immediately snapped into pre-gig mode.

You collapsed on the floor near the couch, sticking your legs up against the armrest next to Reggie as you all listened to Luke go over the song, he ran his pencil along the paper. "So we add the echoes and then the girls come in with the melody.”

You nodded. “Julie gets home in like an hour and then we can start rehearsing.”

Suddenly, there was a loud thud on the garage door and you spun around just in time to see Willie’s head disappear. You frowned and looked over at Alex for an explanation but he just shook his head.

“Again? What’s that about?” Reggie asked but Alex had already poofed out to chase the other boy. You frowned as you stared at the space where he was just sitting, thinking about how happy he was about Willie not even two days ago.

Just as quickly as he left, Alex came phasing back in with a hurt look on his face. You immediately sat up to question him but he just strolled over to his drums and suggested starting practice.

You all agreed reluctantly and got into place. Luke counted down and started to play, stopping almost immediately as Alex started going off course, slamming on his drums a little harder than necessary.

“Al, you okay?” You asked gently as he set down his drumsticks.

“Yeah, why?”

“I know it’s tough, man. They say you never forget your first ghost.” Reggie tried to reassure him. “But I’m sure there will be others.”

“Yeah, and you’re a great drummer and an even greater guy.” You added. “Don’t let all this get in the way of your music.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes a little fire can make things better on stage.” Reggie said, pointing between you and Luke. “Like you guys.”

You were thankful that Luke was behind you and couldn’t see the look on your face. You glared at Reggie but he just smirked back at you, and you made a mental note to kick his ass later.

“What’s your point, Reg?” Playing dumb probably wasn’t your best move, but you could you really didn’t want to make things awkward with Luke again.

“I’m just saying when you play your little on-stage game,” Reggie said. “You guys ooze chemistry.”

“You should never say ‘ooze’ again, but yeah, I agree.” Alex piped up from behind his drums, giving you a shit-eating grin. Great, now you had two asses to kick.

You looked back at Luke to find him already staring at you as he rubbed the back of his neck. You shared a bashful smile before looking everywhere but each other.

“Yeah, but I have chemistry with everyone I sing with.” Luke reasoned, sounding a little panicked. “Watch.”

He walked over to Reggie and sang directly in his face, making you and Alex struggle not to laugh.

“I see chemistry.” Alex joked.

“That was pretty hot.” Reggie admitted as Luke kissed his fingers and pressed them against Reggie’s lips, making him sputter awkwardly. “Girls, am I right?”

Luke laughed as he walked back over to his spot and tugged his guitar strap over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“No.” Alex said with a smile, making you burst out laughing.

Hours later, you stood on your tip-toes, peering out at the crowd that had grown enough to fill the entire driveway.

As they all waited for the show to start, you reached down and felt the outline of your parent’s photo shoved in your pocket. You patted it for good luck, the way you always did before a performance.

Julie stood in front of the garage doors as they were pulled open. There was a wave of applause and Julie settled behind her mic, greeting everyone before starting her solo. Her voice rang out clear over the soft piano, and everyone watched intently, waiting for the rest of you to appear. On top of the balcony, the fake projector clicked on and you took your cue, smiling at the crowd as your voice joined Julie’s.

Just like every time you made your entrance, everyone gasped in surprise and cheered.

You did your best to pose as you sang and danced around, trying to get everyone hyped up. A few people held up their cameras and took pictures, one girl holding her phone so close to your face that you were a little worried that it would go through your head.

Out of the corner of your eye, there was a sudden bright light. For a second, you thought it was just another person taking a picture with their flash, but then you looked over to see Teddy leaning against the wall. He waved a little and you gave him a small smile before going back to the song.

Just as Luke’s verse started, he followed your eyes and saw Teddy, his usual charming smile faltering for a second before locking eyes with you.

Then it was time for your verse with Julie, so you turned away from Luke and strolled towards the piano, watching as Julie crawled on top of it. You followed her lead and sat on the edge, facing the audience and launching into the lyrics.

You could hear Teddy cheering loudly to your right, catching the attention of the whole band, but mostly Luke. As the music softened, Luke suddenly abandoned his spot behind his microphone and was now slowly walking towards you.

He started playing a solo that definitely wasn't planned and almost drowned out the sound of both your and Julie’s voices. When you turned around, you found that he was only a few feet away.

Luke put on his flirty, on-stage face as he slowly inched forward until he was right in front of you. But there was another layer under it. Something sharper and completely unfamiliar. You must’ve seen a hundred different expressions on Luke's face but he had never looked at you like that before.

You tried to look over Julie, who was looking at the two of you with a smirk, but Luke seemed determined to keep your attention. You were extremely grateful that you couldn't blush because you would've been bright red.

The bubble was broken as the chorus started up again and Luke smirked at you one last time before walking back to his microphone. The crowd roared and you took a breath, mentally cursing him and his stupid face for distracting you.

The soft piano came back in and the boys phased away as you and Julie finished the song. You bowed and disappeared, poofing back into the garage.

It was just after dark when the last of the crowd went home.

Julie stayed around for a while but she eventually went inside too, leaving the four of you alone in the cold night air.

You sat on the concrete of the driveway, your songbook propped up on your knee as you watched the boys play basketball. You cheered them on and absentmindedly scribbled doodles on the corners of pages of your old songs.

There was a sharp pop in the air and you looked up to see Teddy standing at the end of the driveway, his hands in his pockets as he walked closer.

You had been so caught up in Luke during the performance and then celebrating with the band afterward that by the time you went to look for Teddy, he had disappeared. You quickly got up and brushed off your legs before running to meet him.

“Hey! There you are, you kinda disappeared.” You said and Teddy cleared his throat.

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, can we walk somewhere? We really need to talk.” Teddy said and you cringed when you realized that it suddenly went completely quiet behind you.

You looked back at your friends who were all watching you with different expressions. Reggie looked almost nervous as he fidgeted with the basketball in his hands. Next to him, Alex stared Teddy down with his trademark intense glare and Luke just stood there with his arms crossed as he stared into the street behind you.

“Yeah, okay.” You said quickly, hoping to avoid any more awkwardness. You went to lead Teddy away when suddenly the boys stumbled back, groaning painfully as they were hit with another shock. “Shit!"

Without fully meaning to, you ran to Luke first, quickly inspecting him and watching him carefully as he winced in pain. You glanced over to Reggie and Alex to make sure they were okay before turning back to Luke.

“It’s getting worse.” Luke told you as he rubbed his chest.

“Why is this happening to us?” Reggie asked.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the air. "It’s because you guys are in serious trouble.”

You whipped around to see Willie nervously wringing his hands as he stepped into the light.

Alex took a step closer to him, looking dazed like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Willie?”

“Like I said,” Teddy said suddenly, making everyone look at him. “We need to talk.”

Even though you weren’t supposed to be able to get cold anymore, a chill overtook your whole body as you walked down the street.

You could hear everyone talking in front of you but your brain had shut off after Willie explained the basics the first time. Not only was he secretly working for an evil club owner, but Teddy, who you thought was your friend, was teaming up with him in order to steal your soul and make you and your best friends play in a house band for all eternity.

Your brain was so full that you felt like any more information would make you short-circuit.

“So, all these shocks are because of the stamps that Caleb put on us?” Luke asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“He’s threatened by you,” Willie explained as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and whipped around. “You’re the only ghosts that lifers can see without his help.”

Alex, who had been just as quiet as you this whole time suddenly spoke up. “And you let him do this to us?”

“I can’t stop him.” Willie tried to defend himself. “He owns my soul!”

“He owns half of Hollywood’s souls.” Teddy butted in. “It’s kind of his thing.”

Willie took a deep, unsteady breath. “If he even knew we were here talking to you…”

He didn’t finish, but from the pained look on his face, you could tell that he couldn’t have been going anywhere good with that sentence.

Next to you, Reggie crossed his arms. “So if we don’t join his club, this power outage keeps going on until there’s no power left?”

Willie nodded and Reggie scoffed. “And what exactly happens when the power goes out?”

Teddy cleared his throat. “You disappear forever. No crossing over, you just...stop existing.”

“So we have no choice?” Luke snapped as he glared at Teddy. “We have to leave our friend, our band, behind to work for Caleb forever?”

“There is another option.” Teddy said. “If you could figure out your unfinished business, you could cross over in time and be free from all of it.”

“Okay, so what’s our unfinished business?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know.” Teddy gestured to all of you. “But since you all died at the same time, it’s probably something you have to do together.”

“Why should we listen to anything either of you has to say?” Alex said as he glared at both Teddy and Willie. He sounded so betrayed that it made your stomach turn.

“Because I care about you, Alex.” Willie pleaded. “I hate that it’s my fault that you and your friends are in this mess.”

It was quiet for a minute before he looked around anxiously. “I can’t be gone any longer. I’m sorry.”

With that, he disappeared.

“Don’t be too hard on Willie,” Teddy said once he was gone. “He wanted out of the plan the minute Caleb told us everything.”

“And what about you?” You asked, trying to contain your anger and Teddy sighed.

“(Y/n), I know that being your friend started out as a lie,” He pleaded. “But it’s not anymore.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” You scoffed.

“Look, I know you don’t know me, but I know you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I know how much Cece cared about you, and I know that this isn’t what she would’ve wanted.”

As if everything wasn’t enough, being reminded of Cece made you feel even worse. Teddy was your last connection to her and now you couldn't even stand to be near him. “I think you should go.”

“(Y/n), please-” Teddy tried to take a step closer to you but Alex fixed him with a look so intense that he backed up almost immediately. With a sigh, he phased away, leaving the four of you out on the street alone.

“This is all my fault.” Alex said, his voice breaking a little. “I met Willie, and he introduced us to Caleb.”

“Alex, no.” You shook your head. “This isn’t anyone’s fault.”

“We have to tell Julie.” Reggie said, washing a new wave of sadness over all of you.

“We can’t.” You said. “She’s lost too much already.”

“If we don’t want Caleb to own our souls, we need to figure out our unfinished business.” Luke started walking further down the street.

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Alex asked as you all followed him. “There was so much that we wanted to do.”

Luke suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes trailing up to the buildings. “The night we died, there was one thing we wanted to do together.”

You followed his eyes to see the Orpheum’s sign casting a blue glow on the street. “Play the Orpheum?”

“Getting that gig was impossible,” Alex said. “We had to call in favors and impress who knows how many club owners. It took us years.”

Just as the last word got out, they were hit with another shock. You cringed in sympathy and rested your hand on Alex’s arm.

“We don’t have years.” Luke said through a groan as he clutched his chest.

Everyone went their separate ways once you made it back to the garage.

Reggie went up to the house, and Alex barely sat still for five minutes before he left to go on a walk, leaving just you and Luke.

You sat on the rungs of the loft's ladder, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to process everything that's happened. Getting so close to living out your dream only to die and become a ghost, finding out that people could still hear you play, Bobby betraying all of you, meeting Julie and Teddy. It all felt so unreal.

There is no way you’d believe any of it if someone told you all this would happen back when you were alive.

Suddenly, Luke appeared at the base of the ladder, frowning up at you. "Uh-oh. You’re perched up there again.”

“What?” You questioned.

“In your thinking spot.” Luke laughed. “Why do you think we all called you ‘Batman’ in seventh grade?”

"How could I not be thinking right now, Lu?" You said as you carefully slid down to the floor, and Luke backed up slightly to give you space. “I mean, we just found out that we have to play an impossible gig and cross over or you guys will-”

The words died in your throat. You couldn’t even bring yourself to talk about possibly losing any of them. Just thinking about it opened a black hole in your chest.

But there was something else on your mind too. Even though you told Alex that it wasn’t anyone’s fault, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about trusting Teddy. But for Cece’s sake, you wanted to believe that he was actually your friend.

You wanted to tell Luke everything you were thinking, or at least try to explain why you didn’t take his advice. But of course, Luke already knew what was going on inside your head.

“None of this is your fault, Squeaks.” He reassured. Your lips quirked up slightly at the nickname. You almost couldn’t remember the last time he called you that and hearing it again immediately made you feel warm. "Besides, your unique ability to blindly trust people is one of my favorite things about you."

You snorted and Luke fought a laugh before continuing. “Well, that and your snort.”

“If you’re gonna be mean to me, I’m going back up to my perch.” You jokingly turned towards the ladder but Luke was quick to grab your hand, turning your back around and pulling you closer to him.

You looked up at Luke as his fingers intertwined with yours. You had held hands with Luke countless times, and you hated the fact that it affected you as much as it always did. It was normally just a way of comforting each other. But after the way he acted during the gig, you couldn’t help but wonder if…

“Hey,” Luke said. “We’re gonna figure everything out.”

“How do you know?”

Luke gave you a smile as he pulled you even closer and wrapped his arms around you. “When have I ever been wrong?”

You laughed and Luke squeezed your hand playfully in response. Your head was still spinning with everything that happened tonight, but the guilt had lessened a little as you tucked your head into his shoulder.

You don't know how long you stayed like that. It felt like hours and seconds all at the same time, but when you finally did pull away, you found yourself frozen in place. Your arms still locked each other, your face now just inches away from his.

“(Y/n), I…” Luke started, his voice uncertain as his eyes drifted down to your lips.

Holy shit.

You blinked up at him, actively trying not to freak out while you waited for whatever his next move was going to be. Were you hallucinating or was Luke about to kiss you?

Just as he went to speak again, there was a bright flash and Alex poofed in just a few feet away. As soon as he saw your and Luke’s position, his jaw dropped and he mumbled nonsense for a few seconds before clearing his throat.

“Hey.” He said, sending you an apologetic look as you and Luke separated so fast that it made you dizzy. “(Y/n), can I talk to you for a second?”

You slowly nodded and smiled awkwardly at Luke before grabbing Alex’s arm and dragging both of you out of the studio. All your thoughts from earlier disappeared and were replaced with one simple question:

What the hell just happened?

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148 @vampire7595 @wackyworrieruniverse @reallysparklychaos @lovelydaydreams15

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13 @sunsetcurvej

Let me know if you want to be added!

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #Alex Mercer #Reggie Peters #julie molina #jatp fanfic #jatp

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two.

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 10.7k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 12, 2017

It had been a week and a day since her move to New York, and Luci had never felt lonelier. Don’t get her wrong, she knew it’d only been a week when she had several more weeks to come to make friends and memories, but as she began to settle down into her new home, she felt very alone.

Luci had called her parents approximately eight times within the past week—some of them were twice in one day—and all those calls were due to her loneliness. Ren and Beatrice were starting to get worried, and a bit annoyed despite being glad that their daughter hadn’t forgotten about them, but the calls were getting a little too much. And not much to their surprise, their Lulu always had something to talk about, which she mostly ranted about being a bit nervous and excited about rehearsals.

Currently, Luci was headed to rehearsals as she walked to the Metropolitan Avenue Station, a two minute walk from her apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Knowing her directions and the subway quite well, she got on the G train and got off in Court Square in Queens. She walked five minutes to take the F train towards Manhattan, getting off on 7th Avenue before walking down the street where Broadway Theatre appeared in her sight.

Sighing, she thought about all the people she’d passed by. Seven train stops in total—people walking in and out of the train—less than ten minutes of walking, and despite the amount of people that rode with her on that train, she still felt like she was the loneliest person.

She understood the big city quite well; no one really paid any attention or cared as they just proceeded with their life while simply being someone she passed by and possibly would never see again. Luci would only hope that her new job would help her make friendships and change her view on relationships a bit better; she’s had a few bad relationships in the past, romantic and non-romantic that had messed with her mind throughout the years, but she’d rather not think about the traumatic events that impactfully took a toll on her mental health as she was walking into rehearsals for the first time.

Opening the door, she felt nerves rush through her body as she stepped into the Broadway Theatre where Miss Saigon would be in production for eight months. The theatre would be her home for the rest of the year. She’d work tirelessly, and devote her entire being to the role to be the best actress she could ever be.

All at once as she walked through backstage, it began to hit Luci. This was what she’d been dreaming of, and the realization had hit her hard once she walked through the doors and into the dark hallway that led backstage and the dressing rooms. There was commotion in the direction of the main stage and a few of her fellow cast members that were singing, could easily be heard as she was walking through the halls.

The behind the scenes action came to light once she walked through another doorway. Bright lights from the vanity illuminated the room, there were cast members reading from the script, and a few chatting on the couch. It was everything that she imagined and expected.

Luciana Suki was printed behind a black director’s chair next to the person who was playing the main role of Kim, Daisy Beck. Luci was a bit nervous to introduce herself to Daisy because she was one of the most iconic women on Broadway. She’d been acting on Broadway ever since she was a little girl; her mother was the head of the wardrobe crew and her father was part of the sound crew, so she practically bled and was born into the Broadway Theatre. It was easy for her to get her foot in the door because as her parents were busy, they would take her to the theatre and make her sit front row because they couldn’t afford a babysitter. And when the stage director needed a child to step in, they would have Daisy be in the show, and she would play the part effortlessly. She would stand center stage as the protagonist would sing to them while the bright light would shine upon them. Daisy Beck was a professional in all senses—she was the Meryl Streep of Broadway, and that intimidated Luci even more.

“Hi, Daisy.” Luci greeted, making Daisy turn her head from the mirror to her. “I’m Luci, the second Kim.” She added with a soft chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Luci put her arm out as Daisy stood up from her chair, meeting face to face with her.

Daisy’s expression held such power and confidence, and although Luci thought of herself as a confident person, Daisy was the different kind of confident; she was a different definition, a better use of a synonym that people most frequently use. She exuded the brilliance of self-assurance and certainty, like it was known to be that she had power. But then Daisy smiled brightly, making some of Luci’s worries wash away, but they were only stored nearby because the smile Daisy had on her face was more of an evil smirk.

“Daisy Beck.” She introduced herself, quickly shaking Luci’s hand before pulling away just as quickly as the shake. Daisy sat back down at her vanity and placed her Airpods in her ears before her new cast member got another word out.

Luci gulped, hanging her tote bag on the back of her chair before sitting down. She took a deep breath, easing her quiet nerves that were running around in her body. There was a bit of doubt in her mind about her career and the path she was on, but she quickly flicked it away, concentrating on the positive and the gratitude it took to get where she was, where she was sitting.

After a few moments of relaxing, easing into the loudness, everyone began to file out the door and head to the stage.

“Hi, Luci, right?” A brown-haired woman with hazel eyes beamed at Luci, and she couldn’t ignore such a friendly face.

Luci smiled, shaking her hand. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Nina. I play Gigi.” Gigi Van Trahn was a stripper in Miss Saigon at a club called Dreamland, hoping and dreaming for a better life in the States. “Is this your first Broadway show?” She asked curiously.

Luci shook her head. “I’ve done some shows off-broadway, if you can count that.” She smiled bashfully. She knew that she shouldn’t be embarrassed by being part of the off-broadway community because she had worked her way up, but she hated the weird eyes pointed at her and the whispered judgement everytime she said that she’d been on off-broadway, even though nothing was wrong with it, but for some reason, people had a certain distaste towards it.

“Yeah, that definitely counts! You should be proud of your upcoming; it’ll be historic once you move your way up.” Nina raised her brows and smirked. Luci smiled, breathing out a giggle. She loved when people were so hopeful of her climbing the ladder of success and dreams, and it made Luci giddy, if she was being honest.

Everyone made a distorted line across the stage, facing the thousands of red velvet cushioned chairs that would be the cast’s audience. The stage director, Tal, was standing downstage with a clipboard in her hand as she was talking to her assistant and pointing to the clipboard with a pen; the taps of her pen to the wooden clipboard echoed in the silent theatre. Tal was in her mid-forties; she had slick black hair, wore black framed glasses, and had a certain look of sternness that was made for scolding and confronting. Luci made a mental note to not get on her bad side because if looks could kill, then she’d see the light.

A minute later, they concluded their discussion before looking up. “Good morning, everyone! And we’re back here…again.” A coordinated laugh spread through the cast. “For the people returning: hope you all didn’t forget about me.” A small chuckle erupted. “But we have a couple new faces, so I’ll make this introduction brief and quick; I’m Tal, your stage director. I’ve been working in this business for a long time, so I know what I’m doing. This is my assistant Melanie, she’s just as educated and devoted to this play as I am, so if I’m unavailable, don’t hesitate to take things up with her.” Everyone nodded understandingly. “This is going to be a wild, stressful ride, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot of fun, I can promise you that.”

A few ‘Hell yeah and ‘Period’s flew across the stage as people praised her words. Luci immediately felt comfortable with the space and energy that came from her fellow castmates. She was worried that she would have a constant feeling of being uncomfortable or as if she didn’t belong. But with Nina being so friendly, Tal and the cast uplifting and motivating the room, and minus Daisy’s weird and short attitude, she couldn’t help but feel like she did belong and that this was where she was meant to be.

Tal told everyone to get into a large circle to do a role call because there were a few new additions to the cast as the original cast before this day had departed from the production because there was either a better opportunity or it was time to say goodbye to this show.

After Tal individually called each name, the person was to introduce themselves, say what part they were playing, and a hobby they indulged in when they were not on stage. Usually, people didn’t pay attention to icebreakers and introductions because many found them boring, but Luci made sure to be attentive and memorize everyone’s names and faces since she was one of the few who was new to the cast and production. She also tried remembering their hobbies because she figured it would be a great conversation starter while trying to make friends.

It took quite a while to get to everyone, especially Luci since she was towards the bottom of the list because of her last name.

“Luciana,” Tal called out. Luci raised her hand, presenting herself with a smile. “Welcome to Miss Saigon.”

Luci stepped forwards a few inches inside of the circle. “Thank you, Tal and Melanie. Uh, my name is Luciana Suki, you could call me Luci, if you’d like. I’m playing Kim, alongside Miss Daisy Beck.” She looked at Daisy when she said her name, but Daisy had an unamused look on her face, but Luci ignored it. “A hobby of mine when I’m not constantly thinking about my job is knitting—I like to knit. Hats and scarves are my specialty and I have way too many in my closet for my own good, but I’m currently working on a cardigan and will do it for an hour if I have time.” Everyone clapped when she was done, and she stepped back out of the circle and into the line.

Next on the role call list was Samuel Talum, who had been making serious eye contact with Luci, but she avoided them, looking elsewhere.

“Hi, I’m Samuel. I play the second Chris. My hobbies include swimming on the roof of Soho.” Everyone laughed, but Luci didn’t seem to see what was so amusing about that, but she figured that was his personality since everyone found that hilarious.

Samuel looked at Luci as he stepped back into line, and this time, she reciprocated the eye contact. Her arms were crossed, face expressionless, which only made him smirk.

After introductions, Melanie suggested getting into groups to have a normal conversation to get to know one another and get more comfortable. The circle was concaving as the opposite sides were met. The theatre increased in volume and was filled with chatter and excited squeals; people hugged one another and jumped in circles, hopeful for another great season on Broadway.

Luci and Nina talked with some of the extras as they mostly asked Luci about her life and where she was from since everyone already knew each other.

“Hello, ladies.” Samuel walked up to the four women with a charming smile. The three immediately swooned for him as their eyes lit up as if he was the actual Oscar award himself. “Luci, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” He gave his full attention to her, taking his hand out. She politely shook his, not expecting him to kiss the back of her hand, locking eyes with her. She hated to admit it, but the action made her heart pound a little harder. Luci pulled away quickly, linking her hands behind her back.

“Good to meet you as well.” She gave him a small toothless smile. Avoiding his eyes, she looked back at the girls who were blushing and giving Luci a knowing look. They knew Samuel well enough to know when he had a crush, and they could definitely tell that he had a crush on her, to which Luci had a clear vision of it.

When the first day of ‘rehearsals’ were over, Tal announced that it was the same time tomorrow, and Luci was glad that she was finally had a routine again—waking up at eight in the morning to get her day started and leaving her apartment by nine to get to the theatre just before ten, which was when rehearsals started. Tomorrow’s rehearsals were going to be exciting since it would focus more on the play itself; Luci was itching for tomorrow to come.

Once Luci walked out of the theatre, saying her goodbyes to Tal and Melanie, and some of the cast that she made friends with, she was met by a fresh, chilly breeze, making goosebumps rise. It was the complete opposite of what she felt like inside the theatre: warm and flushed because there were so many people surrounding her, plus her nerves helped her stay warm; it didn’t help that they cranked up the heat inside the building as well.

As she was walking, passing by strangers that she’d never see again, she heard her name being called out from the distance. She thought she was hearing things, but she turned around to be met with Samuel who was jogging in her direction.

“Damn, you left quickly.” He smiled, which Luci had to admit that he was quite attractive—really attractive. A head of soft blonde hair sat perfectly on his head that if she were to mess with it, his hair would only get effortlessly better. His arms were so big and toned that she could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt (or she thinks that he purposely bought a small shirt to make up for the lack of muscles). He was tall, almost a foot taller than her that she had to look up when he spoke, but she didn’t let his height intimidate her. In fact, nothing about Samuel intimidated Luci, although she knew that that was his ultimate goal whenever he met someone new.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I was thinking…we should hang out sometime.” The suggestion made Luci raise her brows. “You know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot, be co-stars, play the love interest together.”

Chris Scott, the role Samuel was playing, was a G.I sergeant who is making a return to America from Vietnam. Unexpectedly, he falls in love with Kim, who is a shy, young girl who also works as a stripper at Dreamland because of the fall of her city and the loss of her family from war. The club is run by the Engineer and caters to American soldiers. Kim and Chris have an affair, leading to feelings that are more than lust. Their affair leads to Kim getting pregnant and giving birth to their son, Tam. Eventually, Chris leaves and goes back home without the knowledge that Kim is pregnant. Kim and Chris are separated for years until he learns about his son, so he goes back to Vietnam to find Kim and Tam—the only difference is that he’s married to an American woman named Ellen. Kim urges Ellen that Tam should have a better life in America, rather than living on the streets, but Ellen is wary and refuses because she doesn’t want to lose Chris. Conflict, heartbreak, and unexpected endings flow throughout the plot of the story, making it a hit on Broadway.

Luci debated in her mind. She figured she could use some friends, some company, and she thinks it worked out perfectly since she was going to be seeing Samuel almost everyday. He got the impression that she wanted nothing to do with him outside of the theatre because of the polite but dismissive attitude towards him, but the look on her face when he proposed the idea was the opposite of what he had seen inside of the building.

To much consideration, Luci answered, “Sure, why not.”

Samuel sneered, walking alongside with her to wherever their route took them. It wasn’t like he was up to no good—purposely, at least. So, the two walked side by side, oblivious to what this might cause them.

April 21, 2017

Opening night.

The anxieties were crawling up everyone’s skin as they got into hair, makeup, and costume—specifically in that order. Everything felt rushed, like they were riding in a sports car, waiting to cross the black and white checkered line. But in reality, they were going the speed limit in a residential area.

Tal and Melanie made sure everyone got to the theatre at least two hours before the red curtain rose because she didn’t want everything to feel like they’re in a high-speed car chase, anticipating a crash.

The past five weeks had been an exhausting and intense thrill that Luci had never experienced before. The constant movement, the strain of her voice from singing too much, the tears from messing up a line, and the overwhelming fear of screwing up on stage had been her life for the past five weeks.

The day after introductions and icebreakers, the cast were to do a read through of the play, just to get an idea and feel of the script when rehearsing it with the cast. Since there were two rotations of the cast, the second cast—which was the one Luci was in—were to still attend readings and rehearsals when it was not their day to rehearse. They were to observe and learn the different techniques and acting that the first rotation provided so it would be easier to run through rehearsals without constantly stopping.

After the read through, which took two days, the rest of the week was followed by table work and blocking. Table work deeply goes into the script; it focuses on analyzing and getting to know your character—basically what purpose a character has. Blocking included roughly running through a scene organically, and seeing what works for both actors and what looks and feels better.

When the notes have been written down, the actors will stumble through the play without a script in reach. This process had slashed a bit of hope in everyone because of the difficulty in remembering the notes from blocking. Luci was properly beating herself up over it, and Samuel had reassured her that it was fine to make a few mistake since it was new and added in during blocking.

“Hey,” Samuel would call out after hearing another groan come out of her mouth. Luci would look at him with a frown, and he would comfortingly pat her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? You got this.” He would then walk away, giving her a wink that made Luci’s insides turn.

After three days of roughly stumbling through the play, working rehearsals were next. Everyone knew their lines, stage directions, the plot and depth of the characters, and the extra notes from blocking were implied to everyone’s brain. During working rehearsals, the cast needed to find a way to best tell the story to the audience. They worked in a large room that was a few blocks away from the theatre, and it had white tape all over the floor indicating where the character needed to stand. There was no mirror, just a blank wall that was painted black, so it was like they were in the actual theatre. The process was exhausting because the cast would run the entire play back for two more times for three days. So, when Luci got home, it would be five in the evening, and she would be ready to crash and call it a day.

In between working and dress rehearsals, the tech-crew, stage directors, stage managers, and designers would have their own rehearsals without the cast. They do this to make sure the lighting, music, and set were in motion and work smoothly for the play and audience. During these days, the cast would get a few days off, but they were to not brush the play aside just because they weren’t in rehearsals. They were told to do fittings with the costume crew so they could make their final adjustments for their character’s costumes. It was a more fun and light process where they could just stand on the elevated step and answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when they’re being asked if it was comfortable or too tight.

After technical rehearsals, there would be two or three days for Q2Q rehearsals, which meant Cue-to-Cue, and the technical crew and the cast would get together and rehearse the bits where sound and lights were needed, which is almost every scene since it’s a musical and the characters seem to sing as they’re arguing. These rehearsals were very technical and necessary, and it needed to be executed with precision, so the cast and sound crew would be on the same page and in sync.

Dress rehearsals were more of a sigh in relief. It showcased everyone’s hard work and talent, but it was also a surreal moment because even though they worked and rehearsed every single day for this production, it still didn’t seem real. The few days of dress rehearsals hit the actors in the face because everything was coming together. Tal had let a few groups of people into the theatre to watch and give them a preview of the show so the cast had an audience to perform to during dress rehearsals.

And the moment everyone had been waiting for: Opening Night.

The audience was filling the theatre in as security ushered them to their seats. Some took a picture in front of the stage, the influencers held the Playbill program out in front of them, capturing the renaissance theme of the Broadway theatre to post on their Instagram story, and couples who were there for date night. Not to forget, the important journalists, who hyped this play up way before opening night, that were going to critique and judge all throughout the show; they were sitting in the mezzanine, only the best seats in the house as it provided a panoramic view of the entire stage, so they didn’t miss a thing. Broadway critics could be the most hurtful writers, and they have a way of letting people down in the most elegant and sophisticated way that made it seem like their words aren’t so bad.

Backstage was twice as chaotic as it was on the outside. Although everyone was quiet, humming and whispering the songs, the inside of their minds were driving them crazy. If someone outside of the production who didn't have anything to do with the play, walked into the room, they would immediately feel the tension bouncing off the walls and breaking the mirrors of the vanities.

Even though it was the first rotation that would be performing today, Luci still felt incredibly nervous because anything could happen. Daisy could get sick or not want to perform, so it would be Luci who would have to step in, unless Tal tells the understudy to. Aside from the nerves, she felt incredibly proud of everyone and her own hard work. Rehearsing for about five hours—sometimes she would stay longer just to get extra help—had tired her out, but she knew that once it was her turn to step on stage, the exhaustion and stress would be completely worth it, and that would be when she knew she made it.

Luci was in one of the dressing rooms, and she heard a knock as she was buttoning her shirt that was just for show when there was a zipper on the back of her top so it was easier to change when she was in a hurry. She opened the door, revealing Samuel.

“Hi,” he greeted, getting in the dressing room with her before he closed it behind him. The space was small, so the two were pressed up against one another. He placed a hand on her waist as the other rested against the wall behind her, leaning down to kiss her lips. “How are you?”

Luci smiled when he pulled away. “Good. You?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Better, now.” He kissed the top of her head and Luci softly smiled, not used to the amount of PDA, even though they were somewhat in private.

Luci’s just as confused on how she was able to pull Samuel. After the first day of rehearsals when he caught up to her on the sidewalk and asked her to hangout, she found out that he was actually a really outgoing guy; she didn’t expect herself to laugh or actually enjoy herself when she said yes to his invitation.

After the first week of rehearsals, Tal had directed them to be more connected to their characters—to really feel what they’re feeling. This only enhanced their chemistry as love interests, making them closer. And on Wednesday evening, Samuel invited her over to his apartment. He knew what he wanted when he asked Luci to his place, and he really didn’t want to mess with her feelings, so he decided to be honest.

“Luci, listen. I just really want to fuck you,” he confessed straightforwardly, making Luci gulp. No one’s ever really admitted that fact to her, so it was quite surprising to hear as well as hot, if she was being honest. “I mean, I like you, of course I do. But I really don’t want a relationship right now, and we’re both stressed with rehearsals, so wanna fuck?”

He was right, she thought. She was stressed with rehearsals and the move, which she hadn’t even gotten the chance to buy proper furniture because she’s been so busy and also broke, so she could use a good fuck.

And she told him the same thing when she accepted his offer to hangout; she said, “Sure, why not.”

So, they’d been messing around ever since then—for the past five weeks. They had kept it on the downlow as he respected Luci’s wishes for not wanting to risk losing her first job on Broadway and have this ‘affair’ affect getting more roles. Samuel reassured her that people date and mess around off stage all the time—Luci raised her brows in suspicion since it was not his first rodeo—but he still kept the affection to a minimum when they were around people, no matter how difficult it was for him.

He leaned down to kiss her neck, leaving small kisses. “Hmm. Can’t wait to take you back to mine after tonight.” Samuel toyed with the zipper that was stitched on the back of her top.

“Yeah?” She smirked when he felt him nod against her.

He lightly nibbled her skin, making her softly gasp. “Gonna make you feel so good.” As lovely as that sounded, she couldn’t risk getting caught in the dressing room, so she pushed him away, earning a small groan that came out of his mouth.

“How about you save that for next week when it’s our actual opening night?” She said seductively, biting her lip as she refrained from laughing at his eager state.

“Fine, if you say so. Just know that you’re missing out tonight.” He teased, giving her a peck to her lips before quickly slipping out of the dressing room before anyone saw him.

Luci looked in the mirror, fixing her hair and taking a deep breath to rid the warmth of her cheeks that Samuel caused. Once she was presentable, smoothing out the creases of her costume, she headed out and heard that there was ten minutes until showtime.

Everyone was running around with a small flashlight that guided them through the dark backstage. The cast were getting last minute adjustments to their costume and makeup, a last minute run-through with their lines, and warming their vocals up as some of the technical crew were taping a small microphone to the side of their cheek.

The second rotation cast stayed back, hanging out for moral support for the main cast as it was a huge night for them. Luci was somewhat glad that she wasn’t part of the first cast because she felt like she could still use a lot of work in some scenes, so she had at least a week to get those scenes perfect.

As the crew walked back, Luci could hear the crew talk to one another through their headset, asking one another if things were set and if everyone was ready to go; the seats were mostly filled, just a few empty seats that were waiting to be filled by the people who were running late.

“Ready.”

“All set.”

“Alright, everyone, it’s showtime.”

The lights went down for a brief minute and a half, making sure the theatre was quiet from people being excited and startled when the room had gone dark, and then the red velvet curtains were pulled to the sides of the stage and the sheer screen was lifted. The orchestra began to play a soft melody as the opening scene started in Dreamland Bar.

Despite having seen the play multiple times during rehearsals and rehearsing it herself, she was in awe as she watched her cast members in action—true action with an audience in front of them and a very bright light that was shining directly on them. Luci had seen many Broadway productions, but getting to watch it from the side of the stage and actually being part of the production was just something so surreal to her.

The final scene was coming to an end; the orchestra intensified their music, the lights dimmed, the curtain closed, and the audience clapped—most of the room had given Miss Saigon a standing ovation. The curtain opened once more and the cast ran out to wave and blow kisses at the audience as the volume increased once it had gotten to Daisy Beck, the icon herself.

And just like that, five weeks of rehearsals and devotion, opening night was over. Luci couldn’t wait until next week because she could practically see the thrill and adrenaline that radiated off of her co-worker’s face, and that was a feeling she had been anticipating for.

Luci hugged the cast, congratulating them on their special, opening night. Everyone took pictures and videos with one another as they held bouquets of flowers.

“Daisy!” Luci called out once she approached her. Daisy turned around to be met with Luci’s arms wide open. She gave an emotionless smile, half-hugging Luci shortly as she only leaned her upper body against her but pulled away very quickly. “You did such an amazing job. I was so in awe of you on stage!” Luci exclaimed excitedly.

“Thank you.” Just like any other actor, no matter how much someone despised a person, they always took the compliment no matter what; it helped their egos grow in size, especially if it was from someone they couldn’t stand.

“You’re truly so magnificent up there…” As Luci was talking, Daisy’s eyes averted towards the corner where Samuel was standing; he was talking with some of the girls that played strippers at the club in the show. His eyes looked up, meeting Daisy’s eyes before he smirked and brought his attention back to the girls. The corner of her lip turned up, smirking as she felt herself blush from Samuel’s look.

Daisy and Samuel had some history together in the past. They go way back, all the way back to five years ago when they had roles in Chicago on Broadway. Just like any other cast members, they took a liking towards each other, and eventually got quite close. They both thought that their feelings were plain lust, but it was more of an emotional connection, so they tried being together and it lasted for a while until there were scandals and rumors going around that Daisy had been taking drugs just because she was seen partying with Samuel. The rumors eventually caught up to her, making her skin crawl and blood boil. So, she needed to be selfish and called it quits with him because her career was her pride and joy, and it was the most important thing to her at the time when she was just twenty-two.

When Daisy found out that Samuel was on board as the cast in Miss Saigon, she was absolutely thrilled because her feelings for him had never dissolved. And the main reason why she was annoyed with Luci on her first day was because she knew that Samuel was going to take a liking towards Luci, which he did; and now, Daisy was aggravated because she wanted her man back but he was too busy occupying himself with Luci.

Daisy looked back at Luci, pretending to pay attention to what she was saying. Luckily, someone had politely interrupted them, asking Daisy to do an interview with one of the journalists that critiqued the show, which she was ecstatic about.

When the theatre was empty, everyone left to go to an after party, which was at a posh cocktail lounge—a ten minute walk from the theatre and quite close to Central Park South—so everyone decided to walk; the adrenaline they still had kept them warm in the thirty six degree weather. It was quite late since they left the theatre at around eleven, so Luci decided that she wouldn’t stay long since her commute back home was still further than some of her co-workers.

The lounge was on the seventh floor of the W Hotel, and it screamed chic and expensive. It was separated into two open rooms, giving complete opposite vibes from each other. The more sophisticated and chic section of the room was filled with grey suede, cushioned sofa chairs with clean glass coffee tables placed in between those chairs. A black grand piano sat in the corner of the room with a large vase of fresh pink lilies and a few vanilla scented candles that were spread across the top of the piano. On one side of the wall were three semi-private booths with cushioned walls and a hexagon-shaped booth with LED lights surrounding the shape.

The second room, however, was where the full bar was. Something that caught Luci’s, and most people’s, attention was the bright sign that covered the entire wall behind the bar top and the bottles of alcohol. The light blue and red colored lights illuminated the entire section of the room. The bar room had the same type of sofas and tables with a chill-beat type of music that played through the speakers.

Peter, who played the first ‘Chris,’ had ordered everyone tequila shots; which naturally, made everyone happy as they cheered. Luci couldn’t remember the last time she went to the bar with some friends and completely enjoyed herself; all that had been on her mind before the move was the move itself, auditioning for the play, and her anxieties that came with moving to a city where she knew no one. So, a shot of tequila was very rewarding for her first proper night out in New York City.

“To a successful opening night! We’re gonna be back here when the second rotation gets their spotlight.” Peter saluted as everyone clinked their shot glasses together; Nina took a video of her and Luci to post on her Instagram story with Luci’s username and the longue tagged in the corner before downing the toxic liquid down their throats.

Everyone talked amongst themselves when Samuel placed his hand on Luci’s thigh. She quickly turned her head towards him, subtly pushing his hand off of it. He met her eyes, smirking and tilted his head as if he was saying that they should go into the bathroom, but Luci shook her head no, denying his silent request. Samuel rolled his eyes, averting his attention on the rest of the group, and Luci didn’t miss the way he shifted farther from her on the couch.

Luci was four shots in and she felt a slight buzz run through her head. The waiters were placing more drinks down on their table, but Luci knew she needed to get home, so she decided to call it a night and say her goodbyes to the group. She knew everyone lived relatively close to the theatre and the longue, so she didn’t expect anyone to take the subway with her so late in the night. What she did expect was for Samuel to offer her to spend the night or even walk her to the train station, but he simply waved at her, no private hug or kiss goodbye. So, she left without another word and walked over to the 57th Street Station and took the F Train down to Rockefeller Center where she had to get off and transfer over to the M Train that would take her towards Middle Village-Metropolitan Avenue, and eventually, home.

On the train, Luci busied herself with a word search that was downloaded on her phone, afraid that she might end up falling asleep on the subway, until the subway stopped at the station she needed to get off at and walked home.

The click of her heeled boots were quite loud against the wooden floor in the hallway that led to her front door. She lugged her tote bag on her shoulder, fumbling with her keys until she got to her doorstep. Briefly glancing at the neighbor’s door right across from her before turning her back towards it and opening her own, the door behind her suddenly opened.

Luci quickly turned around, expecting her cute and attractive neighbor, but instead, revealed a woman with red hair, hurriedly putting her coat on. The woman smiled at her, and for a moment, Luci thought she was on the wrong floor, but behind the woman was Harry in a black long sleeve sweater and khaki flared pants. His chocolate brown hair had looked like he ran his fingers through it so many times that it sat effortlessly messy, but Luci didn’t know that the red-haired lady had done it for him.

She was quite in shock to see him, even though she’d known he lived right across from her. For the time she had been living in New York, she’d barely even gotten a glimpse of him; either their schedules weren't aligned or he was avoiding her. It wasn’t like she was trying to catch him when he walked out of his apartment or in the elevator—maybe she was—but a few neighborly chats were all that she wanted.

“Hi,” Luci greeted once the woman rounded the corner and away from both of their attentions.

“Hey, Luci.” Harry softly smiled.

They both stood in their entryways, awkwardly staring at one another as they didn’t know what else to say. The neighborly chats had gone so much better in her head, and she was mentally rolling her eyes at herself for freezing up so suddenly.

But luckily, Harry broke the silence.

“Long night?”

Luci smiled. “Yeah, kind of. Just came from an afterparty.”

“Hmm, what was the party for?” Harry raised his chin, puckering his lips slightly. Luci glanced down at his lips, observing how naturally pink they were, or if the lady’s lipstick had transferred over to his.

She was quite surprised that he was still carrying the conversation, or maybe he was just as nosy as she was.

“It was for Miss Saigon, the play on Broadway. Today was our official opening night.” She fiddled with her fingers, completely leaning her side against the doorframe.

Harry slightly nodded. “I’d have to watch it sometime.”

Now, that brightened Luci up, almost sobering her. She beamed at him, and Harry couldn’t deny the slight blush that appeared on his face once she so stunningly smiled at him. He pursed his lips, refraining from smiling so widely just from the mere sight of her grin.

“Yes, please do!” He smiled at her excitement before nodding his head.

A few awkward seconds passed, and Luci had the need to lie down after the day that she had. So, she sat straight up from her leaning position, placing her hand where she was resting to balance herself. “Well, I should get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He stood up straight as well, taking a step back into his apartment as his hand held the door handle. “Sleep well, Luci.”

“You too, Harry. Goodnight.” A yawn took over her and she covered her mouth instantly. “Oh, Harry?” She called out, catching him before he closed the door. He raised his brows, her voice stopped him from shutting the door. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? I could use some friends and you seem really nice,” she suggested.

Maybe it was the slightest buzz that was wearing off, making her have the need to use up all the rest of the confidence she could gather up in her body and spew out the suggestion.

But whatever it was, she was glad that she did because Harry answered, “I’d like that.” She gave him a lazy smile, eyes drooping, and Harry knew that she needed to sleep.

After another bid goodnight, the neighbors both closed their doors for a night’s rest, but not before they both smiled into their pillow and replayed their conversation over and over in their head.

April 29, 2017

It was Saturday evening when Luci walked into the Broadway Theatre with the biggest smile she’d ever made in her life. Ignoring the nerves, she was back in the chaos and nervous tension the large theatre held for her very first Broadway show.

She spent the entire day preparing herself just so everything went smoothly. Her alarm woke her up at 7:30 a.m so she could take a walk around the neighborhood for a fresh start to her day. The sky started out as gloomy while the sun was just waking up as well; and the parts of the neighborhoods that she passed were quiet—the only thing that was heard were the honking cars over the birds flapping their wings above her—since it was the weekend and everyone loved sleeping in on the weekend.

Luci was still discovering new things, such as stores, dining, and secret passageways while her Nike running shoes padded against the cement of the sidewalk; that's what she loved about New York—there was always something new she’d discover in this city, and it was a never ending journey that never failed to make her gasp and giddy.

She stopped at a smoothie place before walking back to her apartment; and when she got to her front door, she looked at Harry’s, which she seemed to make a habit out of every time she walked in and out of her apartment, and she wondered if he was awake at this time—he seemed like a morning person, she thought. She debated knocking on his door before she left to go to the theatre to tell her that she was finally performing tonight, but she decided against it, wanting to hang out with him at some place else rather than her workplace.

After making herself a breakfast to go along with her drink, she took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her skin and body since today was such an important day for her; she wanted to feel good so she could look good, especially for tonight.

In between brunch hours, her mother called, making her squeal.

“Hello, mother!” She couldn’t contain her excitement over the phone.

“Oh, hi, My Lucky! How are you?” Luci could hear the bustling street through the phone as they walked through the city. Ren and Beatrice had flown into New York to watch her on stage as promised; Nathan was planning to fly into the city after work as well. Luci offered to pick them up at the airport, which required a car that she didn’t have, but they decided against it, knowing that she had a specific routine before a show and they didn’t want to interfere with that pattern.

“Oh, y’know, just doing nothing. Boring, plain, old me,” she joked, making Beatrice chuckle.

“How’re you handling your nerves?”

Beatrice always knew that inside the confident exterior that Luci had always presented herself with, there was still a shy and nervous girl that was always so hard on herself.

“I’m okay, Ma. More excited than nervous, I think, but y’know, once it’s minutes away from showtime, I’m gonna be a nervous mess,” Luci stated honestly, nibbling on the corner of her lip. She got herself comfortable on her forest green sofa that turned into a bed, and draped the tan, soft plush blanket over her legs. Her apartment was finally coming together, and she was thankful for her few days off of work so she could make her apartment feel like home.

“I know you’ll do great. Plus, all of us are gonna be in the crowd supporting you.” Beatrice encouraged her. “Anyways, I can’t walk and talk at the same time, especially when we’re walking through people, but I just wanted to check up on you. So, I’ll let you go and we’ll see you later! Oh, your father says hi and that he loves you. Bye, my star. Shine your heart.”

Her mother always talked like she was in a hurry, but it never failed to make Luci smile—it was as if Luci was listening to a voicemail, or remembered a fond memory, or looking at a photograph; Beatrice was a timeless treasure, Ren would say.

The rest of the day went by smoothly; Luci mostly watched some television on her iPad since she didn’t have a TV yet, caught up on some reading, and lightly went through her lines and quietly sang the songs. Once it hit 3:30, she was out the door and on the subway by 3:45.

When she walked into the dressing room where everyone was getting ready, her cast members looked at her warily with sympathetic eyes. Luci was confused, but she figured that everyone was just nervous, so she sat down at her vanity and was surprised to see Daisy sitting next to her. She thought that Daisy wouldn’t be here for Luci’s opening night and she was more surprised to see that Daisy was getting ready as she didn’t just want to stand on the sidelines, waiting for Luci to screw up to step right in.

“Hey,” Luci greeted with a smile, but Daisy simply ignored her, going back to do her makeup. Luci slightly frowned but shrugged it off before she sat down.

A few moments later, Tal came into the dressing room.

“Luci,” she called out, making her look up into the mirror, meeting Tal’s eyes. “Can we talk for a minute?” Luci nodded, eyes slightly widening like she was a deer in headlights. She followed Tal out of the dressing room and into a more private room down the hall.

She crossed her arms as a breeze passed by, sending a chill down Luci’s skin and she wished she had grabbed her jacket on the way out. “What’s up?”

Tal took a deep breath, not knowing how to break the news to her newest cast member. “So, there’s been a change for tonight,” she started, and Luci wondered if Samuel wasn’t going to play Chris tonight but instead, Peter or the understudy, Michael. Tal looked up, thinking about her words carefully and how to say her words as gently as possible. “Daisy is gonna perform tonight.”

She wished she hadn’t spoken so soon on how smoothly her day was going.

Luci stared at her mindlessly, blinking a few times. She felt like she was hearing things or dreaming, like her words hadn’t processed correctly in her brain. But when Tal was giving her a certain look of guilt, that was when Luci knew that her mind wasn’t making anything up.

“W-What?”

“I know it was supposed to be your night to perform, but Daisy said that she wanted to perform tonight…” Luci could tell that Tal was holding back on more information. “She said that she doesn’t feel like she needed to rest, so she’s gonna perform every night until she says so.”

Tears were forming over Luci’s eyes and it suddenly became difficult for her to see or hear. She curled her lips into her mouth, refraining a sob that was settling in the base of her throat.

“She knows, right? That it’s my night to perform?”

Tal nodded. “Yeah, she knows quite clearly. I even reminded her, and we got into this argument; she basically told me to choose between her and you, and-”

“It’s okay,” Luci interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence because she knew that Tal had chosen Daisy, which she didn’t blame Tal for doing because why would anyone choose between the face of Broadway and some actress that no one even knows about? Tal knew that she didn’t have any power over Daisy even though it was Tal’s show and she was the stage director.

“Luci, I’m sorry. You’re free to go home though, if anyone is gonna step in, then it’ll be Wendy.” Daisy told Tal that she’d rather have the understudy step into her place if anything happened, and who was Tal to say no to her?

Luci nodded sadly, putting her head down for a moment before she looked up. Tal had the same look Luci had on her face because Tal genuinely felt bad that this had to happen. Luci walked away and back into the dressing room to once again, meet everyone’s dreadful stare. She grabbed her belongings, and Daisy pretended to not notice that Luci was there.

She felt a surge of anger running through her body as she looked at Daisy, and she was not one to let things happen to her without defending herself. What she was going to do could possibly cause Luci her job and maybe any role that she comes across her path because that’s how much power Daisy had, but the power Daisy exposed and portrayed didn’t make her any more powerful than she thought it did.

“If you’re the reason that’s depriving me of my job, then how about you tell me that. Don’t have people doing that for you because if you really wanted me out of the show, then you would’ve told that to my face right when you met me.” Daisy continued looking into the mirror, but she was alert to Luci’s words. Everyone in the room was silent, listening to the confrontation happening right in front of them. “Just sitting there and not having the urge to look me in the eye and tell me yourself is just downright cowardness.”

Without another word, Luci left the room, passing by Nina on the way out, asking if she was okay and Luci muttered ‘Yeah, fine’ before huffing out a sarcastic laugh and walking out of the theatre. She felt bad for giving her friend such a cold and short attitude, and she only hoped Nina understood why she was acting that way.

Suddenly, everything felt very…loud. On the outside, there were honking cars, people shouting at those road ragers, and the harsh wind that blew through her ears. All of that contributed to the loud thoughts running through her head, the disappointment of her hopes had made her feel dizzy, and the heartache of her crushed dreams had made her heart sink. Everything had gone smoothly up until now, and she hated herself for thinking this was all too good to be true.

Luci clutched at her chest as if she was holding her heart in the palm of her hand, signaling it to slow down its erratic beating because she couldn’t keep up. If she had felt heartbreak in the past by dumb boys who didn’t know how to treat her right, the pain that she felt did not compare to having her dream being crushed and ripped away from her in the split of a second.

Sure, she may be dramatic in that moment, but it was everything that she was feeling and it was a valid feeling. She felt like the world was against her and she was perplexed on how to operate this minor section of her life.

“Luci?” Through the midst of her chaotic and saddened mind, the voice that called her sounded quite familiar. She turned around, finding Harry standing a distance away from her before he walked forward.

“Harry…” Her tone was calm as she breathed out a sigh of relief, but her exhale was staggered. Tears glossed over her eyes, making her neighbor and the bright lights blurry, only seeing colored spots until she blinked and her vision cleared up as the tears streamed down her face.

“I thought it was you. Aren’t you—oh.” Harry was interrupted by the collision of her body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, loudly sobbing in his chest. Usually, she wasn’t like this; she wasn’t one to cry in front of people or show any emotion that she was truly hurt—it just wasn’t her. But she could no longer pretend like the events that happened prior didn't happen, and she really needed some comfort, a hug, anything.

Luci felt his hesitancy when his arms wrapped around her body, and she felt bad for hugging him without permission, but her comfort had taken priority. When he eventually did take her fragile and shaking body in his arms, it did everything she was looking for justice. The embrace was warm, even when it was cold and windy out; the hug seemed to have warmed both of them up. A sense of safety, and a complete sigh of relief came to mind where Luci felt like she could take a breather for a slight moment. His strong, muscular arms wrapped so perfectly around her that Harry felt like it was him who needed this hug instead of her, but he wouldn’t admit that because she was clearly being vulnerable in front of him, despite just talking less than a handful of times.

She pulled away, and he suddenly missed the warmth of her body for a split second before his attention turned to her wiping her tears away.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked concerningly.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for just hugging you out of nowhere, I-I should’ve asked.” Harry stared deeply in her eyes, and even in the state that she was in, her eyes were still bright; the lucidity of the bright lights outside of the theatre sparkled in her eyes, and it made him smile at how beautiful she looked even when she was crying.

He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that he hadn't answered her yet. “No, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Just…are you okay?” His concern for her made her feel slightly better.

“I’m good now. Uh, thank you for the hug,” she said bashfully; he gave her a soft smile, nodding his head. “W-What are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I actually came to watch the play. You mentioned you were in it right?”

Luci’s expression softened. “You came to see me?” She felt like she could cry all over again at the fact that he was at Broadway Theatre to see her perform; her heart flipped instantly. Harry nodded, placing his hands in his black pinstripe trousers. “Well, it’s a good thing you caught me out here before you went in because you’d be disappointed to not see me when the show starts.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “It’s a long story…if you have time?”

Immediately, Luci knew she wanted to keep spending time with him, and she hoped he felt the same. Plus, she was in a vulnerable state, and she needed someone to be with her.

Harry was hesitant at first, but he realized that she probably needed to vent to someone, so he responded, “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled softly, wiping the excess tears off her face before walking further away from the theatre; Luci texted her parents and brother in the family group chat saying: not performing tonight :( so I won't be at the theatre. I'll explain later. Seconds later, they blew up her phone with a thread of ‘WHAT?!’ and naturally, Nathan sent a series of curses, making Beatrice scold him in the chat for his language.

Harry and Luci walked until they landed on a Burger & Fry joint near Times Square. The sound of food made her mouth water, especially after crying; she needed to replenish and hydrate herself.

The two sat in a pink leather booth; the restaurant had a decent amount of people for a Friday night because the volume of chatter was heard over the music blaring through the speaker. It was a somewhat retro-themed diner with checkered flooring, a jukebox in the corner for show, and the wardrobe the employees were wearing; it was a fun and cool vibe.

Harry and Luci felt a bit awkward; they both weren’t expecting to end up in a diner together when they were supposed to be inside the theatre. They both avoided eye contact, looking around the very pink restaurant before a waitress arrived at their table and took their order.

From what Luci could tell, Harry was a quiet and shy guy, but that was just an observable trait, which was half-correct. But the only reason why he was shy was because Harry was closed off and didn’t let too many people in, so sitting down with Luci at a diner—someone he'd only spoken with a couple of times—was very new to him.

He fiddled with his rings—her personal favorite was the square Ruby gemstone with a gold band—and she knew that she needed to say something quick before he'd never talk to her again.

“So, Harry, can I ask what you do for a living?” His head propped up from looking at the bubbles from his soda in his Coca Cola glass cup.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m a middle school teacher. I teach Language Arts.”

“Fun! How long have you been teaching?” Luci placed her elbows on the table, interlocking her fingers as she rested her chin on her hands, giving him her full attention.

“For about eight months.” He told her the basics of his life, not voluntarily, but because Luci asked an abundance of questions and was genuinely interested in his life.

She learned that he was from Manchester where his sister and mother live and his father lived in Birmingham. He has a cat, which his mom had been taking care of ever since he left to go to college in America. He went to UCLA, becoming a double major in English and Education, which led him to wanting to become a teacher in the midst of essays and research. He decided to stay in America, ending up in New York for the change of scenery (Luci could tell there was more to that story than he led on), and was fortunate enough to get a job at East Side Middle School in Manhattan.

Harry also mentioned that the four stacks of grading piles had gone down to one, finally being able to have a Friday night free, so he wanted to watch the play. Luci’s lips twitched up, but she curled her lips into her mouth, suppressing a large smile into a small one as she thanked him for wanting to spend his free time watching the show.

He’d never talked that much, Harry thought. In between his stories and facts about himself, the food had arrived and Luci was still asking him questions. It wasn’t like he minded; he appreciated Luci being so attentive and interested in his life as a way to make small talk and make friends, but those were just the basics that he would tell anyone if they asked.

Harry then asked how long she’d been acting for and on Broadway. Luci told him that her career started when she was six and had been acting ever since. She shared her aspirations and dreams; becoming part of Broadway was her first dream, which she somewhat achieved, and Hollywood was her next stop whenever the time was right. Harry poured the same energy she did, asking questions and interacting with her answers to those questions.

Her mood seemed to decline as she explained why she was outside of the theatre crying.

“It just felt like she ripped my dream from me and ripped it apart. I-I don’t even know when I’m gonna get my chance to perform.” Her lips turned downwards as she felt a new set of tears glaze her eyes, but she pushed them back, not wanting to cry again.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it’ll be soon, and whenever that happens, I’ll be there to see you perform on your opening night,” Harry said genuinely; and Luci felt like she could cry all over again, not because of the destruction of her dream that happened in two minutes, but because Harry was possibly one of the sweetest guys she’s ever met.

He surprised himself with his words, but he meant them. Throughout their conversations and getting to know one another, he felt himself relax a bit more, shoulders slumping. He realized that Luci was a very ambitious and motivated woman, making him admire her quality traits; she was also very easy to talk to, slightly chuckling at a joke that she made because he appreciated badly-made jokes since he made them himself. But maybe he’ll bring out the jokes another time when they hang out again.

After an hour of staying at the diner and chatting with their table completely cleaned off besides the last-minute decision to order milkshakes, they finally decided to head home. They split the bill—only because it was fair and this unexpected night wasn’t a date—before they got on the subway towards home. They sat on opposite sides of each other, which Luci wasn’t expecting, but when Luci got on the subway cart and took her seat, Harry sat right across from her.

Once they both reached their respective doors, they gave each other a small smile before mimicking each other’s actions as they turned the key and opened their doors at the same time. Taking one step in, they turned around, standing in their doorways just like all the other times they’d bid their goodbyes to one another.

“Thank you for tonight, Harry. I really appreciate you being there for me, even if you didn’t have to.” Luci said, leaning against the doorframe.

He nodded. “You’re welcome. Thank you for a great night as well. I had fun.” His statement made her face lighten up. “Well, goodnight, Luci.” He walked further into his apartment as did she, and she softly waved at him before they closed their doors.

Despite not performing tonight, her night with Harry wouldn’t have happened if the unfortunate events were fortunate.

And that was the most positive thing that came out of tonight, and she was really focusing on the positives now.

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be posted next saturday!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles x ofc #harry styles au #harry styles ff #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles story #boyfriend!harry #actress!oc #harry styles #harry styles solo #hs au

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 3 years

Text

Mine

*Daveed Diggs x Reader

*Request: Anonymous asked: “heyyy i really enjoyed reading your writing of Daveed diggs! Can i request one where Daveed diggs and y/n(maybe like a stagehand or a stage manager) meets in hamiliton, and they are friends with benefits, but they also have feelings for each other, and then daveed gets jealous seeing you flirt with other guys and confesses? (iknow its kinda cheesy but... Thanks!”

*Warnings: Language, jealousy, smut (like this fic starts out immediately with a smut scene), light dom/sub, choking, spanking, use of ‘baby girl’, fingering, oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, dirty talk, grinding, hair pulling, marking, unprotected sex (wrap it up). Let me know if I missed anything!

*A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all! I’m beginning to notice my smut fics are a lot longer (this one’s about 7.5k). Anyways this got filthy and I think that says a lot about me lol. ALSO BIG WARNING THE FIRST SCENE IN THIS IS A SMUT SCENE SO YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

Tip Jar

**********

You knew you had to get ready for work, but at the moment, you didn’t care. His hand rested heavy on your hip, grip tight enough to bruise, while his other held your body up against his. He pounded into you, low groans and pants right next to your ear letting you know just how close he was.

“You take me so good, baby girl. So fucking wet for me,” he rasped before biting down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, muffling his noises. You whined, wanting to hear him just as much as he wanted to hear you. He seemed to get the message, kissing the fresh mark before he started talking again. “You’re gonna be late, but you just had to get fucked, didn’t you? Last night wasn’t enough, you just needed me again. I can feel you getting tighter, are you close, baby?”

“Fuck, Daveed, I’m so close. Please,” you whined as he somehow managed to speed up his thrusts.

“Please what, baby? I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“Please let me cum!” Daveed practically growled as the words left you, bringing his hand from your waist to rub your clit. He always rewarded your obedience.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he demanded. The second he gave permission, you could feel the jolts of pleasure through your body as you coated his length in your release. He didn’t last much longer, his thrusts staggered as he chased his own pleasure. He pushed as deep into you as he could before he came with a loud groan, holding you close to him. “Fuck, you always do so good for me.”

You could already feel the fatigue settling in as Daveed moved you to lay with him, his arms around you. If you weren’t already running behind schedule, you would’ve loved to stay there with him, ignoring the mess between your legs until the last possible second. Maybe you’d both drift back into sleep, then go for a lazier round when you woke up again. Maybe he’d join you in the shower, complaining about how hot you always ran the water. But nope, you were already risking being late.

“Alright, let me up. I gotta go shower,” you said, trying to get out of his hold.

“No, lay with me a bit longer,” he whined. You tried not to laugh; he was always so clingy after sex, even when you were on a tight schedule like this.

“I don’t wanna be late. You can stay in bed, but I swear if you’re late, I’m gonna kick your ass,” you warned, finally slipping out of the bed. Daveed mumbled something into the pillow, but you ignored him as you left for your bathroom. As you waited for the water to heat up, you assessed the damage he’d done. Hickies adorned your bra line, finger-shaped bruises decorated your hips, and even though it wasn’t too aggressive at the moment, you could tell the bite mark he’d just left on you would bruise nicely. You ran your finger over the mark on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so tempted to just go back to Daveed’s warmth in your bed. Before you could convince yourself to join him, you jumped in the shower.

You left Daveed in your apartment with another threat to get to the theatre on time and a reminder to lock the door after himself. The two of you never got to the theatre at the same time, trying your best to hide the little friends with benefits situation you had going on. Sure, people could tell you had a little flirty thing between you, but that was just how the two of you being friends worked. It was always nerve wracking when people (see, Lin) tried setting the two of you up, but you managed somehow. You had the feeling it wouldn’t work if the two of you tried anything more than your current arrangement, not matter how much you sincerely hoped it wasn’t true. You weren’t willing to risk it though, content with just being able to sleep with him.

You enjoyed the walk to the theatre every morning, the brisk air waking you up to deal with everything that was bound to happen during the day. Today wasn’t a show day, so that meant you didn’t have to worry about things going wrong ten minutes before curtain. Rehearsal days were actually pretty calm for the most part. Well, as calm as they could be considering at least half the cast were really just overgrown children.

As usual, you were one of the first ones in the theatre. You took the chance to do your initial once-over, making sure things were where they needed to be for the day. Though you technically were supposed to have one of the stagehands do this, you enjoyed the time to yourself before the day started. Quiet moments were rare in the theatre, and the music playing softly in your headphones allowed you to get lost in your work. The next time you’d get the chance to do this would be after rehearsals were done, and by then you would be too tired to enjoy it.

Once your check was done, all you could do was wait for the others to show up. It would be at least another half hour until people started trickling in - Leslie normally being the first to join you. You waited by the Keurig for your coffee to finish pouring, lost in your thoughts for the things you’d need to do for the day. A new stagehand was going to be joining you, and most of your day would be training them. Even though - once again - this was something one of the stagehands could do, you enjoyed doing it. Before you could get lost further in your thoughts, you jumped at the feeling of a hand placed on your waist.

“What the f-” You turned, tugging one of your earbuds out. You were kind of surprised to see Daveed standing there, smiling wide at your reaction. “What the fuck, Diggs?”

“What? You told me not to be late,” he said, still amused at how he managed to scare you. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t have both earbuds in when you’re here alone, you never know who might come in.”

“Yeah, it might be one of the asshole actors,” you bit back, finally managing to get your heart to stop racing. You turned back to grab your coffee, taking enough of a drink to burn your tongue a bit.

“I mean, you weren’t calling me an asshole this morning,” he teased, leaning in until he was just a breath away from kissing you. Despite your body yelling at you to accept his kiss, you put your hand to his chest to push him back a bit.

“Hey, what did we say about work?” You tried to remind him. Almost getting caught at work a couple times really made it so you had to set at least a couple boundaries.

“Aw, am I really not allowed to touch you, baby girl? You know no one’s gonna be here for a while, we have some time,” he tried convincing you, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. Even the seemingly innocent action had your heart racing yet again.

“Diggs, chill it,” you said, trying to ignore the slight whine in your tone. He was getting to you and he knew it, but he respected your words enough to step back, going to make his own coffee. “So, why are you here so early? I thought you were going back to sleep.”

“I couldn’t after that little wake up call you gave me,” he teased. You rolled your eyes even as you smiled into your cup. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“You guys are gonna run through Act 2, I think. I’m not gonna be too invested in that, though.”

“Aw, why not?”

“We’re getting a new stagehand and I’m gonna train them,” you explained. “I wanna make sure they’re ready to work by the show on Saturday.”

“I’m gonna miss seeing your pretty face trying to act like you’re not staring at me.”

“Bold of you to assume I stare at you when Oak is right there.”

“It’s not assuming since I know you scream my name and not Oak’s.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t scream his too,” you quickly took another drink to hide your satisfied smile. Daveed looked completely offended, exactly what you were going for with your little jab. If you hadn’t been at work, you knew he would do something about it, but he was just going to have to go about rehearsal dealing with it. You didn’t know if there would be repercussions later, but that was all part of the fun.

“You little…”

“Wow, Daveed actually woke up early today?” Leslie interrupted the two of you, already sounding like he’d been awake and ready to go for ages. You didn’t know how true that was, considering it was barely nine in the morning, but he was always ready to go.

“Dude, I’m capable of waking up early.”

“Really? You were dead before that one interview we had-”

“That was at six in the morning!”

“Get on my level, Diggs. I have to wake up that early every day except for show days,” you teased. “Normally Leslie and I get the chance to hang out before everyone else shows up, you’re kinda killing our routine.”

“You hurt me, (y/n). Here I was thinking I’d surprise you by showing up early, but apparently I’m just unwanted,” Daveed whined, finally taking his coffee so Leslie could make one if he wanted to. Leslie was quick to jump in, making himself a mug of tea for the morning.

“I’m glad you understand,” Leslie quipped. “(Y/n) and I have to stick to our routine.”

“I see how it is. I’m gonna go take a nap in my dressing room, come get me when people who aren’t mean get here.” Daveed was practically pouting as he left the two of you, cradling his coffee mug in his hands. As soon as he was out of sight - and earshot - you and Leslie couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore.

“He’s so easy to mess with,” Leslie said once he finally caught his breath. “So, the new stagehand starts today, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t know when they’re supposed to get here, but I’ll probably be training them for the rest of the week.”

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to set when the stagehands get here?”

“Well, yeah, but if people get here early or like a few minutes late then I’m not gonna hold it against them. Public transportation isn’t exactly reliable and traffic is a bitch,” you said, shrugging. “Kinda bummed Angel resigned, though. They were really reliable.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to whip this one into shape pretty fast, though. Don’t worry about rehearsal, I’ll handle it,” Leslie reassured you. If someone could keep an eye on everyone, then rehearsal was bound to go smoothly.

“You’re literally the best, you have no idea how much I appreciate you.” Leslie smiled brightly at your praise.

“You do a lot for us, I just wanna make things easier for you. So, are you and Diggs, you know?”

As amazing as Leslie was, he could also be a bit of a gossip. Not that he would ever share anything, he just liked knowing things. “Nah, you know we’re not like that,” you brushed him off.

“I mean, you could be. I share a dressing room with the guy. I know he likes you,” Leslie said. You had to admit, you were a bit intrigued by this. While you knew the both of you definitely had sexual chemistry - as if the frequent nights spent together weren’t enough to confirm as much - you figured that was where the line was drawn. I mean, you could definitely be physically attracted to someone without being romantically interested in them, and you were sure Daveed only really saw you as a friend. If he didn’t, he would’ve told you by now, right?

“What’re you talking about, Leslie? We’re just friends,” you insisted.

“Sure. So you don’t wanna know what he says about you?”

“And here I was thinking you weren’t a gossip.”

“I’m not usually, I’m just tired of you two dancing around each other.”

“Now you know Diggs can’t dance.”

“Oh haha very funny,” Leslie said deadpan, staring at you. You were trying to use humor to cover up your own curiosity. There was the chance Leslie was just thinking too much into things, being the romantic at heart that he is, and if you got your hopes up just to find out Diggs didn’t actually like you like that? Nope, it wasn’t worth it.

“Thank you, I try,” you said with a smile. “Now, tell me how Nicolette’s doing. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“You know, sometimes I think you like my wife more than you like me.”

“Of course I like your wife more than I like you.” Leslie held his hand to his chest in mock hurt. You smiled. Mornings with Leslie were always fun.

**********

Everyone else started trickling in within the next half hour or so. Diggs finally came out of his dressing room once Anthony and Oak got to the theatre, having some form of protection from your and Leslie’s “bullying”, as he put it. Once most of the cast got to the theatre, you began looking around for the new stagehand. Just as you were prepared to send them a text, you heard someone coming up behind you. You looked up, prepared to help whoever was coming up to you, when you realized you didn’t recognize this person.

“Uh, hi. Are you (y/n)?” He asked fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. Oh Lord, he’s kinda cute. That’s a problem.

“That would be me! Are you Michael?” He nodded, still looking around as though he was scanning the room. Of course he’d be nervous, it was his first day on a pretty major show. He was honestly adorable, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to protect him or pursue him.

“Yeah, uh, sorry I’m a little late.”

“No worries, I know how traffic is. Just try not to be more than fifteen minutes late or I’ll actually have to note it down. Right, I’ll show you where your locker is and then I’ll give you a tour of the place before I start your training. You’ve worked as a stagehand before, right?”

“Yeah, but mainly for community theatre. This is like… really different for me,” he admitted, getting a little flustered. Instead of fiddling with his messenger bag, he went to adjust his glasses, making you melt just a little bit.

“It’s not so bad. C’mon, let’s go,” you nodded towards the locker area, smiling at him.

Daveed watched you from across the room, wondering who you were talking to. He’d never seen the guy around before, and now you were walking off with him. He turned his attention back to the group he was sitting with. “Hey, Leslie. Who’s that guy (y/n)’s talking to?”

“Oh, I guess her new stagehand showed up,” Leslie commented, following Daveed’s gaze. “They’re gonna be working pretty close while she trains him.”

“Shit, really? Why can’t someone else train him?”

“Hey, Diggs, why do you care so much?” Anthony decided to jump in, seeing a prime opportunity for teasing. “I thought you said y’all were just friends.”

“We are! I just don’t like the idea of her being alone with that guy.”

“You sure you don’t like her? Kinda sounds like you’re jealous,” Oak commented.

“Man, shut up. When are we starting?” Diggs asked, trying to change the subject. He looked around, trying to see if he could spot you from where he was, but you were gone. Shit.

**********

Training the new guy ended up taking a lot more of your time than you expected. He was quick to pick up on the little tech stuff from his previous jobs, but you still had to prime him for working with your crew and the cast. Michael stuck close to your side, asking you about little things to make sure he’d be ready for Saturday’s show. Even when he didn’t have to be there - during breaks and lunch - he still hung out with you, just chatting about anything. You had to admit, you really liked his company. He was a good kid.

Being so busy meant you didn’t really get to hang out with Daveed as much, the only real time you got with him was when he insisted on walking you back to your apartment. There were a couple times when you were walking that Daveed took your hand in his, making your heart race. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for him to do, but with Leslie’s teasing at the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but read more into it. Then again, this was Daveed: your best friend that you happened to sleep with multiple times a week.

When the two of you got to your building, Daveed would kiss you on the front steps, that little fire and hunger burning in the movements of his lips against yours. Your body and mind buzzed, overwhelmed with the sensation of him, but your exhaustion would nag at the back of your mind, making you break the kiss far too soon for either of your liking.

“Can I come in?” Daveed would ask, desire evident in the way he looked down at you.

“I’m sorry, I’m just too tired tonight,” you’d apologize even as you wanted to lead him up to your apartment, to your bed. Even though you could tell he was a little disappointed, he nodded, respecting your decision. With a promise to text you when he got back to his place - and the unspoken promise to call until you both fell asleep - Daveed would call a Lyft to take him away for the night.

As you laid in bed, listening to Daveed’s voice over your phone speaker tell you random stories and whatever just popped into his head, you couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would be if you could actually do this. If you could actually fall asleep to him next to you, his arms wrapped around you, maybe pressing a kiss to your head when he thought you were asleep. Sure, when the two of you fucked, he would stay the night and hold you in his arms, talking to you as you drifted off to sleep, but you knew it wasn’t the same. Even though the two of you were friends, you couldn’t imagine you having a right to that if you didn’t provide benefits for the night. So you would settle for the phone calls and the calls of your domestic fantasies.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you were kind of excited. You’d get to sleep in since you didn’t need to be at the theatre until noon, Michael was going to have his first run without you hovering over him like an overprotective mom, and you were finally going to have the chance to spend some time with Daveed after the show. You had to admit, you were looking forward to that last one the most. Not sleeping with him for almost a full week and having that post-show adrenaline? It was going to be fun.

Once you got to the theatre, you were energized. You’d gotten more sleep than you usually did, you decided to splurge a bit on a drink from the overpriced coffee shop down the street, you actually had breakfast for once, things were looking like they were going to be good. As soon as you walked in, Daveed quickly attached himself to your side before Michael had the chance to. This, of course, led to teasing from the others.

“Dude’s acting like he was going through withdrawals,” Anthony joked when he was sure you and Daveed could hear him. He was talking his shit and he wanted you to know it.

“Don’t act like you’re not like this with Jazzy,” you quipped back. As sweet as Anthony (normally) was, he was whipped for Jazzy and everyone knew it.

“Yeah, but she’s my girlfriend. You tryna say something about you and Diggs?” Anthony shot back. Fuck, he had you there.

“Sorry you don’t have any friends so you can’t relate,” Daveed saved you. Anthony glared at him.

“Then what’re all you guys?”

“Coworkers,” you said, completely deadpan. Anthony’s glare turned into a look of hurt. You almost felt bad for him.

“You know what? I don’t like getting bullied like this.”

“Then don’t start shit you can’t finish, Ramos,” you told him. As much of a sweetheart he could be, he was definitely a little shit too. You were beginning to notice that was a bit of a common theme with the people you worked with.

When you and Diggs were in his dressing room later before the show - you putting his mic on for the show - he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. You weren’t used to him being touchy like this, so your immediate response was to gently shove his face with your hand and tell him to stop it while you laughed. He smiled at you, letting you do your job.

“So, you gonna come over tonight after the show?” Daveed asked.

“I dunno, am I?”

“C’mon, it’s been a while. I know I’m not the only one that’s a mess, baby girl.” Heat rushed through you at the pet name, one normally reserved for just the bedroom or when he was trying to rile you up. And he was really succeeding at that second thing. Before you could answer, though, there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

“Hey, uh, (y/n)?” Michael asked, peeking his head in the room. He brightened up when he saw you were in there, though you had no doubt he’d been asking around to find you. “Can I ask you a quick question before show starts?”

“Yeah, sure thing! Just let me finish up with Diggs’ mic and I’ll be out,” you said. Michael smiled brightly before excusing himself, closing the door again. You looked down at Daveed to find him glaring at the door.

“Yeah, you’re definitely coming to mine tonight.” You just tilted your head in confusion, but Daveed only waved you off. You shrugged, finishing your job. You’d have time to ask him after the show.

**********

The show went by a lot faster than you expected it to. Then again, when you were running around backstage, making sure everyone was ready and in places and didn’t have any costume or tech mishaps, you didn’t have a real concept of time. In the brief break you had during intermission, Michael found himself at your side, gushing about how cool the entire thing was. You watched him with a fond smile, glad things were going well during his first official show. You could feel someone looking at you, though, and looked up to find Daveed watching you, obviously not paying attention to whatever Leslie was telling him.

You kept it at the back of your mind as Act 2 started, getting back to your job. There would be time to question him about everything later. Act 2 flew past just as quickly as Act 1, and you watched in the wings as everyone took their bows. Daveed spotted you, giving you a bright smile. As soon as curtains closed, Daveed rushed up to you.

“Just let me get changed and then we’ll head out,” he told you. You could see him almost lean in, but he stopped himself at the last second, opting to ruffle your hair instead before booking it to his dressing room.

“Asshole!” you called out after him even as you laughed. You went to grab your backpack from your locker, not really having a way to kill time after the show. You could always talk to some of your coworkers, but you were sure they just wanted to head home as soon as possible too. You leaned against the wall, just messing around on your phone, when you heard someone walk up to you.

“Hey, (y/n)! I think the show went great!” Michael said as soon as you looked up.

“Yeah, it really did! I heard good things about you today, but how’d your first day go?” You asked, pushing yourself up from the wall. Michael immediately jumped into telling you about everything, really giving off puppy energy. You didn’t know how long you were talking to him, but you could tell he was dancing around something.

“You know, I really appreciate you taking the time to train me yourself. I’m sure I wouldn’t’ve done half as good if you didn’t. Uh, do you think I could like take you out for drinks or something as thanks if you’re not doing anything right now?” Michael finally said.

“Sorry, she has plans,” Daveed said, seemingly coming out of nowhere to put his arm around your shoulders. You jumped slightly at the sudden contact.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, she’s gonna get fucked until she can’t walk tomorrow.” This immediately drew a gasp of his name from you, but he ignored it and continued. “She’s mine, so you might wanna think again about asking her out.”

Before Michael could even think of saying anything else, Daveed practically dragged you out of the theatre. You struggled to keep up with him, cursing his long legs as you tried to figure out what the hell was going on. A Lyft was already waiting for the two of you outside, and he opened the door for you to get in. The ride was quiet, tension heavy in the air between the two of you, and you could tell the driver was a little uncomfortable even though they had no idea what was going on. As soon as you were in Daveed’s apartment, you turned to him.

“What the hell was that?! You really just said that to the new guy?! What the fuck is your problem?” You demanded as he closed the door behind him.

“He obviously has a crush on you, I needed to make sure he knew where he stood,” Daveed said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even if he does have a crush on me - which I’m pretty sure he doesn’t - you don’t have the right to do that shit! We’re literally just fucking, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.” You inhaled sharply as Daveed took a step into your space.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Daveed asked, looking down at you. You tried to straighten up to your full height, but the height difference was still enough to make you feel small.

“Get what?” You tried to keep the venom in your tone even as your heart raced.

“It’s not just fucking. It’s hanging out with you even when we don’t do anything. It’s doing anything to make you smile, even if it’s because you’re bullying me. It’s being nervous to hold your hand but never wanting to let go. It’s wanting to just hold you when we’re in bed, not wanting to let you get up in the morning. I’m so fucking in love with you, and I have been for months now,” Daveed said, cupping your face. “I don’t want you with anyone else. You’re mine.”

“Wait, what?” You didn’t know how to process everything he just told you. You needed a second for it to register, and just as Daveed was about to speak again, you cut him off, pulling him down for a kiss. You didn’t know how to explain it, but this one was different from all the other times you’d kissed him, even from the first one. When you pulled back, you smiled at him. “You’re so sappy.”

“What, did you need time to load?” Daveed teased.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t exactly expect to get a confession from the guy I’ve been silently pining over for way too long now,” you admitted, pulling him back down for another kiss. You almost got upset with the little smile you could feel against your lips, but there were more pressing matters at hand. You broke the kiss again, pleased at the way he seemed to chase your lips. “Now, uh, what was it you told Michael? I was gonna get fucked until I can’t walk tomorrow?”

You could immediately see the change in him, a wicked smile growing on his lips. “You wanna play that game, baby girl?”

You nodded, biting your lip as the air around you seemed to change. The tension from before was back, but instead of the unbearable silence that plagued you on the ride back to his place, it was laced with anticipation. Daveed pulled you back in, one hand on the nape of your neck to hold you to him. His other hand started roaming, tracing lightly along your side before settling on your hip. When he was sure you wouldn’t break the kiss, he brought his other hand down. He bent down slightly, hands moving to your thighs. He pulled back for a breath before giving you a simple demand. “Jump.”

You did as he said, jumping just enough for him to wrap your legs around his waist. He started walking to his bedroom, distracting you with kisses and nips to your neck. The first night you guys spent together, you’d set up some ground rules to not get caught, the first one being absolutely no marks that couldn’t be hidden. That rule seemed to go out the window now that there was nothing to hide. A small whimper escaped you at the mark he was sucking high on your neck, not used to the sensation there.

His distraction worked; before you knew it, he was placing you on the edge of his bed. As soon as his hands were free from carrying you, they went to the front of your shirt, unbuttoning it with practiced ease. His lips followed his hands, kissing down your front. He ended up kneeled between your legs, letting your shirt fall open and frame your figure. “Talk to me, baby girl. What’s the safe word?”

“Red, and yellow if I need a second,” you recited. Just the fact that Daveed made sure to do the check in meant you were in for it, and you couldn’t be more excited.

“Good girl.” You barely had a second to process his words before he pressed up to kiss you, pushing your shirt off of your shoulders. Your bra was quick to follow, and once your top was exposed, Daveed pushed you to lay on your back. He planted his arm beside your head, caging you in as he lowered his body to yours. The kiss would break for a second just to let you get more air before he reclaimed your lips, and as much as you loved kissing Daveed, you needed more. You knew this was all part of his teasing, and as much as you were normally a brat, you needed him.

“Please,” you whimpered out, rolling your hips against his. You could feel his arousal so close to where you needed him, separated only by a few layers of clothes.

“Please what, baby?” You couldn’t see his smirk, but you knew it was there.

“Touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, isn’t this enough? If you’re gonna be greedy, you gotta tell me what you want.” Against his words, he started trailing his free hand down the side of your face, down your neck, down, down, down, stopping right at your waistband. He pressed his lips to your neck, letting you feel his smile. “What do you want, baby girl?”

“Daveed, fuck, please. I want you to fuck me,” you said, trying to grind into him again. His hand at your waistband held down your hips, not letting you have any room for movement. He sat back on his knees, looking down at you.

“There you go, baby. All you had to do was ask.” He undid your pants, the sound of the zipper seeming to echo in the room as he slowly pulled it down. You wanted to complain about him still teasing, but you knew you wouldn’t get what you wanted if you did. He pulled your pants down and off, you lifting your hips to help ease the way. You reached down to remove your panties, just wanting the job to be done already, but Daveed gently smacked your hands away. “No. I wanna take a bit to look at you, all gorgeous and needy.”

“Stop teasing,” you whined.

“Normally you’re such a brat. What happened?” Daveed asked, still teasing. His hand toyed at the hem of your panties, the slight touch enough to make you shiver.

“I thought you like when I listen to you,” you shot back, finally moving to sit up. You liked his little games, but you were starting to get tired of it. You needed him to touch you, actually touch you, and if he kept going like this, it was going to take forever. Before he could say whatever smart ass remark he was going to, you pulled him by his shirt into a deep kiss. You broke the kiss for a second, starting to tug off his shirt. It didn’t take more than a second for him to realize what you wanted, quickly taking it off. You went back to work, not wanting to give up the slight bit of control you had gained.

You moved your kisses down his neck, wanting to leave some marks of your own. As your hand trailed down to palm his erection through his sweats, he grabbed the back of your hair, forcing you to look at him. His pupils were lust blown, he was panting slightly, and he looked like he was seconds away from losing it. You had the feeling you didn’t look much better. “Nuh uh, baby. Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“It’s gonna be me if you don’t hurry up,” you challenged. You inhaled sharply when the hand in your hair tightened its hold, but you kept your eyes locked with his.

“There’s the brat I love,” he said with a small huff of amusement, trying not to smile. He moved you back to lay down, finally touching you where you needed him, even if it was still over your panties. “You know how I know you like these little games? You always get so fucking wet for me.”

Daveed pressed one more kiss to your lips before settling between your thighs, pulling your panties off and tossing them somewhere to the side. You leaned back on your elbows, wanting to watch his next moves. He kissed your inner thigh, making your breath hitch as the simple touch lit up your nerves. You could tell he was leaving more marks as he kissed and nipped on the soft skin, not even really registering his hand moving between your legs until you jolted at the slight pressure on your clit.

Daveed moved his attention to your other thigh, repeating the motions as his thumb lazily rubbed over your clit. Your thighs tried to close on their own, only to be met by a sharp bite. Breathy whines and moans escaped your lips, your head rolling back as Daveed took his time. As much as you were expecting him to take you rough and make you beg until you were crying, this slow build up was an entirely different kind of torture. When his fingers finally teased between your folds, guiding the way for his tongue, you couldn’t help your high whine of please.

He took mercy on you, his tongue teasing your entrance before settling on tracing patterns over your clit. While his mouth worked on your clit, he eased two fingers into you, your arousal making it easy for him. Your hips bucked at the slight burn, but the way he dragged his fingertips along your walls quickly replaced the feeling. Daveed knew exactly how to take you apart, watching your reactions for the slightest changes. Just as your thighs started to quiver, the pool of arousal in you getting to just this side of too much, Daveed pulled away.

“You fucking-”

“Watch what you’re gonna say to me, baby girl. You’re already on thin fucking ice,” he warned, getting up to take off his sweats. Even though you knew he wouldn’t be gone for long, you missed his touch on you. Not that you were gonna let him know that.

“You asshole, I was almost there.” You bit your lip, barely hiding the gasp that threatened to escape you at the smack he gave to your thigh. The skin stung, but the prickling of pleasure was always enough to overwhelm it.

“I know, sweetheart.” He gave you a wicked smile as he took his place between your thighs again, resting his length against where you needed him. You didn’t even realize you whimpered at the feeling until his thumb started rubbing circles into your thigh. “Aw, someone’s needy. I only want you cumming around me when I say you can, understand?”

You nodded, but Daveed just shook his head, the little pout on his lips mocking you. “Nuh uh, baby girl. Use your words and then I can fuck you the way you want, okay?”

“Yes, I understand,” you finally said, voice smaller than you would’ve liked. You rolled your hips up, trying to feel more of him. Daveed’s hand tightened on your thigh, hard enough that you were sure you were going to have finger-shaped bruises there in the morning. “Now can you please just hurry up and-”

You cut yourself off with a whine as Daveed ran the tip through your folds, collecting your wetness before teasing the head over your entrance. His little self-satisfied smile as he slowly pushed into you was annoying, but you had better things to focus on. He pulled you closer to him, thumb rubbing circles on your thigh yet again as he rolled his hips a few times. As much as he talked about ruining you, you could always tell there was a slight hesitation before he really got into it. You loved his concern, but he did have a promise to keep. His thrusts were still slow and controlled, so you decided to give him some motivation.

“I know you can go harder than that. You know, I bet Michael would-” This time you were cut off by Daveed’s hand on your throat. You looked up, a small smile gracing your lips at finally getting what you wanted, only to falter a bit at the hard look Daveed was giving you.

“Michael wouldn’t do shit,” Daveed said, finally thrusting into you harder. You knew you shouldn’t be as smug about it as you were, but you were thriving. This was what you’d been waiting for. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands fisted in the blanket. Just as you were starting to get comfortable, enjoying the ride, Daveed forced your leg over his shoulder, driving his length deeper into you. “He wouldn’t know how to fuck you like I do. Even if you went to him, you’d be thinking of me. You and this pussy belong. To. Me.”

Daveed punctuated each word with a rough thrust of his hips, making you see stars. You were babbling at this point, whines and moans mixing with your pleas for more. Daveed’s hand rested on your throat, not quite choking you but acting as a reminder to watch yourself. He was treating you with the roughness you craved, and you could feel yourself getting closer as he went on. You didn’t know if you were the one that moved or it was him, but he hit that spot. That spot that had your vision edging with white, that had you yelling out as you came hard, not even bothering to ask permission. Instead of letting you ride it through like he normally did, Daveed pulled out of you, dropping your leg from his shoulder.

“Wha- why’d you stop?!” You cried out even as Daveed flipped you over to your stomach. He pulled your hips up, arching your back for him before laying a hard smack on your ass.

“Did you ask?” Daveed demanded, smacking the same spot.

“What?”

“What, you get fucked a little and forget your manners?” It finally clicked for you, a little embarrassed that Daveed had to point it out like that. Normally, you’d be apologetic, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care at the moment. You just wanted Daveed to keep fucking you, you could deal with the consequences later. You tried rolling your hips back to his, but his hands kept a tight hold on your hips.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, still not meaning it. “Please.”

Daveed huffed out a little laugh, but when you tried turning your head to look at him, his hand fisted in your hair, pushing your head down into the pillows. You would have complained, but the feeling of him sliding back into you cleared your mind of anything other than him. He was quick to go back to his fast pace, holding your head down to keep you in place. “Don’t know why I fucking asked for an apology, I know you don’t mean it. You just want me to fucking ruin you.”

You couldn’t do anything but whimper at his harsh tone, trying to fuck yourself back on him. But no, he controlled the pace, he controlled your pleasure. You were his. All you could do was take it, trying not to repeat your mistake from earlier. Time seemed to fade away as the sound is his hips against yours, your muffled moans and whines, his small grunts and praise filled the room. It wasn’t until Daveed finally let go of your hair to rub at your clit instead that you could tell he was getting close. His thrusts started getting sloppy and you could feel the build up inside of you yet again.

“Please, baby,” you whined, the two words already being a struggle. You’d hoped it would be enough, but of course it wasn’t.

“You gotta say it, baby girl,” he said, voice slightly strained from how close he was.

“Please let me cum, I wanna cum so bad, please baby please,” you kept going, only able to repeat please, baby until he finally took mercy on you. You were trying your hardest to be good, needing to be good for him, but you didn’t know how long you could keep this going.

“Fuck, such a good girl. Cum for me baby, I wanna feel you.” His permission was all you needed, your orgasm hitting you as soon as you had it. Your legs shook, nerves sensitive as Daveed chased his own release, making you cry out into the room. Daveed followed soon after, pushing deep in you as he called your name in a delicious groan.

The quiet that followed was new, your heavy breathing the only noise breaking the silence. Daveed stayed for a few seconds before slowly pulling out, making you whimper at the sensitivity. You let your hips fall, content to just stay there laying on your stomach, but Daveed had other ideas, rolling you onto your side so he could pull you into his arms.

“Hey,” he said in a near whisper, a little smile on his face as he looked down at you.

“Hey,” you said with a smile of your own. The moment was a bit cheesy, but it made you feel warm inside.

“So, how was that?”

“I mean, it was different.”

“Different good or?”

“Yeah, but just different. Like, knowing that you’re in love with me or whatever.”

“Don’t ‘or whatever’ that! Every time we’ve fucked before I’ve been in love with you,” Daveed seemed to add that last part as an afterthought. Thinking the conversation was done, you started to get up only to be pulled back to the bed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To go shower?” You looked at Daveed, tilting your head slightly. You were met by a hungry look, immediately sending a shiver through you.

“We’re not done yet, baby girl.”

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299

#daveed diggs x reader #daveed x reader #daveed diggs imagine #hamcast imagine #requested #Smut

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honsoolie · 3 years

Text

don’t rush | 04

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings: excessive amounts of pining, explicit smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, mutual masturbation

words: 10.3k

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: thank you for waiting... if you've stuck around this long :") i've tried so hard for the past couple months to condense this story into the original length (3 chapters) but i've gotten attached and i'm afraid that this will turn into a longfic at the rate i'm going. so after this chapter, i'll be sure to post lots of drabbles of the scenes i couldn't fit in!! thank you so much for the wild ride, and without further ado, i present to you don't rush 04.

start from the beginning?

You can’t bring yourself to fault Yoongi for what happened that morning. You also can’t bring yourself to say that it was your fault either–or even that there may be a single person to blame.

24 hours of radio silence. No good morning text, no morning after–or really, afternoon after–text. Nothing.

The thing about silence–absolute silence, with the exception the low hum of the air-con, or the distant sounds of a city, or footsteps from the room above you–is how slowly it passes. Maybe that’s why you’re a music student, spending all your time filling the silence with your own music.

Silence is such an empty space–and can breed such bored thoughts. And where else for your mind to wander but Yoongi?

It’s not that you were waiting for a text from him, it’s just that… you were half-expecting a text from him. Like he owed it to you. Even if none of this had ever happened, he would have texted you good morning by now.

At least in your head, it seems fair that the onus is on Yoongi to text first. After all, he was the one who dragged you tightly by the wrist back to his apartment. He pushed you down on his couch, and in a very roundabout way, made you late for class.

It’s not that you let this whole affair happen to you, but he started it. So it’s his job to text first. That’s the excuse you use, for not being brave enough to do it instead.

It honestly feels a little pathetic that most of your thoughts outside of music and school are occupied by Min Yoongi. Even now, weeks after you’ve started talking to him, even mere thoughts of him elicit physical reactions from you.

Your heart rate picking up, skin flushing where your neck meets your collarbone… maybe you’re allergic to Min Yoongi.

It’s hard for your mind not to run wild with conclusions and assumptions after what happened between the two of you, even if a day hasn’t elapsed yet.

Why hadn’t he texted? Does he do this often? Did he hate it? Did he ghost me, and now I’m never going to hear from him again? Should I text him first? Why is this so hard?

Why do I care so much?

The worst part is, you can’t turn it off. The thoughts follow you throughout the day, a weight sitting on your shoulders as you flit from class to class, building to building, rehearsal to rehearsal. Once the sun dips below the horizon, you’ve almost completed the process of resigning yourself to never knowing the answers to any of your questions.

You make a note to yourself that you might start grieving the loss of any sort of closure–other than what Yoongi had given you the day before. All evenings this semester have been relegated to the confines of the practice room, so that’s where you head next after chamber music rehearsals end. Finally, the Bach partita has a purpose in your life other than plaguing your waking dreams–something to focus on other than Yoongi. But for God’s sake, it sounds pathetic when it’s put like that.

Your. Life. Doesn’t. Revolve. Around. Min. Yoongi. You tell yourself, punctuating each word as you march down the stairwell in the music building. You clutch your violin case to your body, seeking warmth in the cold plastic.

The universe likes to play tricks on people, and its language is irony. Yoongi taught you that lesson, the hard way.

So it almost makes sense that the next time you encounter Yoongi is when you collide head-on with Yoongi’s smooth chest as you speed-walk through the doorway once you’re at the foot of the stairs. Just as you dreaded (and knew was going to happen anyway), your cheeks light up, some light from deep within you turning on. You kick yourself for the fact that your entire body perks up in his existence, erasing the cold and the tiredness from the night before.

“Oh–I didn’t expect to see you here.” At the very least, Yoongi doesn’t look like he hates you. Or is disgusted by you. If anything, he looks a bit coy. If you could let yourself believe it, there might even be the warmth of fondness in his eyes, and even more incredulously, maybe the hard edge of guilt.

“Didn’t expect? Yoongi, I’m here more than my own room.” You laugh despite the thoughts that have been trailing you all day, sounding something like cherry blossoms floating on the new breeze that spring has brought. You feel like you’ve forgiven him for something that he didn’t do, even if he hasn’t said anything yet.

Just seeing him makes you feel better, the devil in the back of your head whispers.

“Right, right.” His answering laughter is familiar. Even now, ever after everything, he still has the audacity to smooth his hands over your shoulders, make sure you’re intact and okay. “Violin okay? You okay?”

You try not to let his scant touches send a shiver down your spine, just so you don’t give him that satisfaction, but you fail all the same. You manage a nod, but can barely bring yourself to look in his eyes. But is it for fear of seeing that warm tenderness again, or something else?

“So…” With no prompting from you, Yoongi slides a fingertip underneath your chin. It feels simultaneously casual and momentous, and you’re not sure which one you prefer.

Is this really happening right now?

He looks deep into your eyes, taking inventory of something that you’re too self-conscious to think about right now.

Of course, you’re self-conscious. You bump into your hookup a day after the fact, now that it’s nighttime in the practice rooms on the second floor of the music building. Both of you should be somewhere else, anywhere else, preferably drunk. How could it not be awkward, and how could you not feel self-conscious?

His eyes flick lower, to your lips, and you avert your gaze. Yoongi’s hand returns to his side, and he coughs.

“Sooo…” You say, digging your foot through the carpet, the warmth of his hands lingering on your skin. You play with the buckles on your violin case, just to give your hands something to do. You hope he says something first, because you’re sure as hell not going to do it.

“Got something to say?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his words. He coughs again.

“I thought you were going to say something,” You say, still not looking at him. It’s all you can do to not shrink away. In the dim lighting of the mouth of the hallway, there’s no way he can see your blush, but you turn away all the same.

He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t, or maybe like he’s purged the last thirty-six hours from his memory. “Let’s not be strangers, come on. Are you busy?”

“Not… particularly.” You commit to the words before you can finish the thought.

“Can you do me a favor?” Right. So he wants something from you. Of course, of course he wants something from you.

“What kind of favor?”

“I was going to print something downstairs, but now that you’re here, can you listen to my piece? I need a second opinion.” He sighs, as if remembering something sweet. “It’s time I made it even, right? I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” He smiles, just barely, and yet it feels like a gift.

So that’s it. It’s confirmed. This is officially Not a Thing, you consign yourself to the fact. It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t a little bit relieved. At least you have an answer.

There’s no need for a great step forward that’s necessary. No more awkward conversations like these, no admitting of feelings, let alone reciprocation of feelings.

Nothing has to change between the two of you. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You say, like it shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. You hate that even despite his silence on the matter, you’re running back to his side. You hate that you’re happy that he still wants anything to do with you. You ignore the empty kind of ache in your chest, too hollow and too full at the same time.

You follow him down the narrow hallway, past the couch where it all began, and into the practice room. Of course, Yoongi’s already booked the only one isn’t a dingy cesspool.

He pats the space next to him on the piano bench, beckoning you closer.

“Sit down, don’t stand the whole time.”

“Don’t you need the space?”

“No, no, it’s okay. Come here.” If it’s even possible, your face burns even hotter when you sit down next to him, shoulders brushing just so. It’s harder to forget about the fact that you are hopelessly crushing on Min Yoongi when you’re literally touching him again.

It reminds you of all his touches from before, because it was good. The sex was good. If it had been awkward and fumbling, if Min Yoongi hadn’t been able to push you over the edge with only his mouth and that look in his eye, you would be a lot more inclined to leave those memories in the past.

You don’t need to relive the memory over and over, an endless reel. And yet, glimpses, flashes, disjointed stills of that morning still follow you everywhere. But you look at him now, silently flipping through the marked pages on his score, and now you see more than just a good lay. Looking at him now, in his natural state, you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, you’re whipped, there’s no chance for you.

“I don’t have it memorized yet, please don’t judge me.” You try not to think about the way he had pulled you closer by your hips. You try not to think about what you might have thought was lovesickness in his eyes. You try not to think of the timbre of his voice, when he told you to come for him. You try not to think about that.

“Really, a pianist who can’t memorize his pieces? Sacreligious.” The delivery of your jibe falls flat. You steady the ricketing breath in your lungs. You’re nervous, and tired. Accepting that your Min Yoongi has absolutely no interest in you other than when he needs you for something isn’t easy, you know.

“Oh come oooon y/n, this is something I’m learning this semester.” He pouts, just like he had before the both of you had fallen into this nebulous mess of feelings. Or maybe, it’s all one-sided and you’re the only one feeling like things have gotten messy.

You poke him in the side, which you regret immediately after doing so. “I’m just joking. Show me your piece. Are you warmed up?” Yoongi turns pink, again.

You remember the pink dusting his cheeks when he was–right, you’re supposed to be forgetting that ever happened.

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, everything moving in slow motion. Your head is swimming.

Well, maybe things aren’t moving in slow motion, and it’s the proximity to Min Yoongi that’s making time distort. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m fine. Are you ready to listen?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

Yoongi hovers his hands over the keys. He does that pianist thing you’ve always loved, where he pauses before the keys, preparing to play.

He leans in slowly, sinking his hands down, pulling out a sound so sweet and, so, so solemn. This is a different Yoongi than the one thirty seconds ago.

You realize somewhat belatedly that the fluorescent lights, the same ones that erase any sort of proper time telling in windowless rooms like these, still make Yoongi look good. The light bounces off of him just right, his cheekbones casting a gentle shadow on the sloped panes of his face. Like the rest of him, there’s no harsh angles, just soft gentle slopes that feel like home. Like comfort. Your gut twists in yearning. The hollow of his cheekbone is the perfect place to kiss, you ponder.

Things should be easier now. All of it was a mistake. It’s in the past. It seems that Yoongi doesn’t seem to care at all. It should be forgotten about. Things, in theory, should be easier now. You should be able to carry on as you’ve always been able to. The path of least resistance, right?

He pauses, and begins what must be the main theme, cascading sixteenth-notes that sound about as tumultuous and troubled as you feel.

He looks like he’s about to cry. Sure, you’ve seen sleepy Yoongi, cranky Yoongi, even a little bit of earnest, pleading Yoongi. But whoever is in front of you is entirely different. He’s approaching the main theme again, hands jumping over the keys as if they were hot irons. You can see all the versions of him laid out before you. Younger Yoongi, hands too small to reach the tenths written in his score. Hungover Yoongi that shuffles into class a couple minutes late, remnants of a late night out drinking written all over his face. The Yoongi that holds your hands between his and tells you that everything is going to be okay.

When he reaches the final cadence, he doesn’t look at you immediately, still trained on the keys. His hands are still placed in the final chord, lifting them off slowly so the sound doesn’t quite fade away yet. The both of you stay like that, in the aftermath of what he just played. You hear the click as he takes his foot off the pedal. The tension that he was churning out doesn’t fade away when the sound stops. If anything, it gets worse. Blood rushes to your cheeks, the room warmer than it was before.

“So… that’s what I’ve been working on so far. I, uh, hope you liked it.” It’s shocking how that compelling spirit from just minutes ago dissipates into thin air. He looks vulnerable, naked despite the fact that he’s fully clothed.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Yoongi.” You laugh in disbelief, blinking away tears. God, you are so fucked. Sure, you’ve heard him play before, practicing with him. But you’re not practicing with him now, you’re watching. You’ve become the audience, and the dynamic has changed once again.

There’s been many a night where you googled his previous performances and competitions on Youtube, but this doesn’t compare. Not in the slightest. So this is what all your teachers were talking about when they were lecturing you about the importance of stage presence.

“Uh, wow. Wow.” You’re still tearing up, no matter how much you try to will it away.

You’re not even really sure why you’re tearing up or why you can’t stop. It’s usually difficult for music to elicit such a visceral reaction from you. Goosebumps, sure. That very specific thrill down your spine when you hear music that isn’t so much as something that you hear, but feel in your blood, thumping, alive, real.

But tears, no. That doesn’t happen.

It feels like your body is reacting to something that isn’t tangible, that you can’t see with your eyes or hear with your ears. Like there’s something else in the room that you can’t quite register. Like you’re crying despite yourself.

You desperately want to kiss him. You want to pull him close and breathe in his familar scent and feel him pull you closer. It feels like the only appropriate thing to do, rather than just say “wow” over and over, in that stupid longing voice because you don’t what else to say. This is too overwhelming. More overwhelming than what it feels like when he finally puts his hands on you.

It’s the only thing you want to do. You can’t imagine the night ending in any other way. It seems like it was prewritten in the stars, like the universe came together to stitch this scene together. Like it was fate for you to find him here, long after the sun disappeared over the horizon, practicing just like you were.

But you can’t, so you hug him. Like an absolute idiot.

You regret it as soon as your arms circle around his shoulders. Yoongi stiffens, as if startled, as if he wasn’t expecting the hug either. Then his hand come to awkwardly pat the space between your shoulder blades, as if this couldn’t get any worse. This feels like a consolation prize.

He can’t see your face nestled against his shoulder, but you cringe.

You feel the vibration of his laughter against you, his shoulders shaking, “You liked it that much?” You can feel the way his voice resonates in his chest, and like everything else about this ordeal, it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah,” You pull back away from him, relieved that the moment is over, “Yeah, I liked it. Winter Wind, right?”

“Yeah, fitting for this fucking weather.”

You laugh. “Look, thanks. But I gotta go, it’s getting late and I have a paper due tonight. Thank you, again. It’s really good.” You pick up your case, “You have good start, but keep practicing. Can’t stop until you have it memorized, ha.” You try to force a laugh.

You hope you don’t look like you’re fleeing the scene. (Except you are. You leave the building without even practicing. But you don’t tell him that.)

As you stream down the steps leading to the music building, the cool night air blotting away the swelling tears in your eyes, there’s something else that takes up residence in your heart: jealousy, and initiative.

You envy the lucky bitch that ends up with Min Yoongi. And if Yoongi won’t talk about it, then you will. You won’t let him drag you around on a whim without a real answer. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer.

Min Yoongi doesn’t like you back.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself before he goes to sleep, as if lying to himself might make sleep come more easily.

The truth is, you are Min Yoongi’s favorite bedtime story. Like many other nights before, Yoongi falls asleep thinking of you, hashing and rehashing all the little details and inside jokes and past conversations. It’s a small comfort during this semester, thoughts of you keeping him warm.

Tonight, Yoongi is replaying the conversation from earlier, the way he saw you nervously rubbed at the tough calluses on your left hand while he was playing for you, out of the corner of his eye. It made Yoongi want to make you smile, laugh at his bad jokes, and maybe, if you’d let him, gasp against his lips. It’s been less than a day since he saw you and yet he misses your laugh.

That morning after class, you had sat up, blinking away the sun filtering through his shades, or maybe trying to clear the post-orgasm fog. Post- orgasms fog. Then you mumbled something about being late for class, a thin layer of sweat shining down to your chest.

You had thanked him, then laughed at the misstep. God, you were so dorky that you thanked him. How was he ever supposed to resist you?

How had the two of you come so far?

And the guiltiest indulgences Yoongi would allow himself in the middle of the night were the things he hadn’t experienced with you. Like a kiss. He hasn’t gotten a chance to do that, not yet. Maybe not ever. Would it be chaste? Slow and romantic? Or would it be impassioned and angry?

Yoongi is particularly fond of the image of taking you to the jazz cafe a little ways away from campus. Would you wear a dress, once the weather warms up a little bit? What kind of coffee would you order? Do you even like jazz? What would it feel like to feel your hand slotted against his?

He definitely wasn’t been thinking about pushing you up against the mirror in the practice room and seeing if the soundproof padding was actually properly installed. Or about that morning after classes, and those little mewling noises you made to urge him on. You were so desperate. It was cute, to say the least.

But Yoongi wasn’t trying to think about that right now. He was thinking more about your unwavering diligence. Or the merriment in your eyes despite the tired shadows that hung beneath them. Or the way you didn’t back down from the way that he was obviously flirting with him, fighting fire with fire.

How much longer can the both of you live in denial, waiting for the other to make a tentative step forward?

The more he thinks about it–about you–the less he can comfortably stay in his little bubble of denial. Denial can only get him so far. He tells himself that whatever relationship between the two of you is inevitable, and someone is going to do something eventually, and that’s why he’s not making a move just yet.

Much of your relationship (or lack thereof) has been stepwise progression, slow steps. Graduating slowly from classmate to study partners to friends and closer, still. And now Yoongi had made this great leap and it felt like the both of you were lost amid the signals and the truths neither of you knew how to broach.

And no matter how brave he is on stage, it’s nothing compared to being up close and personal with you. Cheesily enough, it’s easy enough to show a crowd what he’s been working on for months, but with you, he has to improvise.

Truth be told, Yoongi knew he was being idealistic. The space that you two existed in had become precious to him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the balance, until now. There’s no easy way to make this all go away. Both of you were in too deep now.

He saw the way you sighed into his touch, the way your eyes would go unfocused when he said something that was even remotely flirtatious, then then snap back to reality, as if you were reminding yourself of something. He knew you wouldn’t do anything any time soon. The past evening had shown him that.

And how was he supposed to admit his feelings for you… when he could hardly admit them to himself, in the privacy of his own room?

And now, how could Yoongi make sense of anything? Every quiet moment carried the ghost of your voice. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way you had squeezed your eyes shut when he brought you to rapture. Even when you’re not with him, you’re filling up his senses. His thoughts.

Am I in love with my friend? Are we friends because we’re in love? Am I feeling like this because of the way she says my name? Am I feeling like this because of the way she touches me?

So those are all the reasons. To not talk to you. To talk to you. God, how the fuck was Yoongi supposed to know?

You (5:03pm): hey, I think we should talk soon

The minutes tick by. Does the time always pass this slowly, you think to yourself. Your hand hovers over your phone keyboard.

Fuck… what have I done.

You (5:15pm): that sounds sooo scary lol no pressure okay?

You grow desperate in the wake of his silence. Have you ruined it all?

Yoongi (5:30pm) yeah

Yoongi (5:31pm): sorry I was practicing

Yoongi (5:31pm): wasn’t looking at my phone

Yoongi (5:31pm): let’s talk then

Yoongi (5:32pm): where are you?

You find yourself at his apartment once again, the closed door spelling out all the possibilities in front of you. At least give him the benefit of the doubt, something reasons inside of you, but something darker says, think of what he’s put you through.

Think of what you’ve put yourself through, you finally think. You’ve stood outside long enough. You’ve overwrought this, alone, long enough.

Each knock that you rap against the door sounds like another nail in the coffin, but you still cling onto the last dregs of hope left in you.

The door opens immediately, a rush of warm air enveloping you from outside. “Hey,” Yoongi says, shyly, almost demure in his lounge clothes and undone hair.

You want to take him apart.

“Hey,” You mirror, and try to pretend like Min Yoongi hasn’t stolen the breath out of you for what seems like the thousandth time. You hate that he has this effect on you. With nothing but a simple greeting, it seems like you’ve forgiven him for all your grief already. You try to push that feeling further down, trying to stay objective.

Yoongi leads you to his couch. “Here… sit down. It’s cold outside, I made tea,” He says, padding into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything else, but it looks like he knows exactly what you want to talk about. There’s something in the little tick in his jaw that tells you he’s just as sure as you are, but you’re tired of guessing. Your eyes are blurring from looking in between the lines for so long.

There’s a big difference between overt facts and implied certainties. Fact: You and Yoongi are friends who study together, and now, ex-hookups. Implied: There’s something more there, something between friend and one-time hookup.

“Um, what did you want to talk about?” Yoongi says, setting down a steaming mug in front of you. You don’t reach for it.

“I–” You steel yourself for the words to tumble out of your mouth, but you lose your nerve. You had prepared a whole monologue on the walk to his apartment, but it doesn’t seem right now. You sigh, loosening the tension in your shoulders. “I wanted to talk about… about the last time I was at your apartment.” You hope it’s enough for him to get your point, and you hope that he’ll be honest and direct. He owes at least that much to you.

“What about last time? Like specifically, what about last time?” Yoongi says, not flippantly. Please, you silently plead, please… just say something good.

“Yoongi,” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come, “What happens now? What does it mean? Please, just be honest.” When you hear your voice leave your body, you can hear how pained you sound. It wasn’t something you intended. You match his gaze and his eyes are like mirrors. “Yoongi… whatever you say, I won’t be angry. I just–I just want to know how you feel.” Your voice trembles. You hope you don’t sound as pathetic and humiliated as you feel, the scorned hookup.

Worse yet, the scorned hookup who didn’t get the hint the first time.

“No, no. You deserve the truth.” He sets his mug on the table, and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t use a coaster. “I’ll, um, tell you my side of the story. Just to be clear I’m not like, mad at you, or anything like that. I’m also not the type to fuck and go… even though it looks like that. And I’m not like, going to ghost you or anything. Unless you want me to do that. In that case,” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, lingering on the nape of his neck, “I’ll do that.”

“Can you do something for me, y/n? Can you just–” Yoongi holds his hands out in front of him, and he clasps his hands between yours. He always knows exactly how to comfort you, even now.

He sighs. “I wasn’t… expecting everything to happen like this. y/n, I… Just let me think about what to say for a second. But I promise, you’ll get the explanation you’re owed.” Another deep breath in. Another deep breath out.

You sit like that for what seems like a long, stretched out moment, your hands clasped in Yoongi’s, his brow furrowed.

“Why didn’t you say something yesterday?” You burst out.

Yoongi clears his throat. “Okay, look. I have… a lot of… okay, I just, I wasn’t sure how to go about this whole thing. And that morning in class, I rushed everything and after that I wasn’t sure how to approach you. Then when I saw you in the music building afterward, I just wanted to talk to you… to make sure you were okay. I saw you and I blanked. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what to do without making it weird. That’s a shitty reason, but I blanked and didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“So,” You blink, frustrated, confused, flushed hot with embarrassment and maybe a little bit of arousal, “Okay,” You say. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So… why did it happen? Why… why did we…”

Your eyes sting, and you breathe deeply, as if you might run out of words. “Was it all in my head?”

Yoongi’s clammy hands tighten around yours, as if he’s afraid you’ll leave.

“No,” Yoongi exhales, “No, it wasn’t.”

Your body is running hot and cold. It feels like something in the air has been punctured, all the tension, all the doubts, rushing away. Something new rushes in.

“I spent all this time guessing and wondering and hoping. I ran myself ragged with all my thinking. It’s not your fault, mostly, but I’m so tired. Of guessing.”

He smiles. Well, smirks, in that Yoongi fashion that makes it feel like the top of your head is spinning. “Stop thinking so much then.”

“It was–” Yoongi’s voice breaks, rips in half. “It was a mistake,” Yoongi lies. You know he’s lying. You can tell from the way his eyes are looking everywhere on your face but your eyes. You can tell from the way that he wrings his hands, like he’s reading a pre-written apology from behind the camera. “I’m so, so confused about everything. This isn’t going the way I thought it would–not that–it’s just my words aren’t coming out like I thought they would. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like a bad thing.”

Yoongi sighs, “I thought this would be easier.” And when you look at him again, you can see the pink on his cheeks. And how dilated his pupils are, and the decreasing proximity between his lips and your lips, because again Yoongi is still death-gripping your hands in his. If you could let yourself entertain the idea, he might be pulling you closer.

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” You say. You lean away from him, hoping that the energy in the room will simmer down if you’re not centimeters away from falling into his arms. You need to hear him talk more, say everything, explain himself. You can’t leave this room without knowing more, you won’t be satisfied with anything but the truth and the full truth. You really don’t have the energy to wait more.

“Well, even before everything–” And this is where Yoongi waves his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. He doesn’t elaborate, although you suppose “before the almost-handjob in class and the whole mouth-fucking each other on your couch” is a bit of a mouthful.

“Even before everything– I knew you liked me. Like, you can’t even be surprised that I knew. Because you were really obvious. Like so obvious. But yeah. I knew, and I thought it was cute, and it was super flattering.”

You open your mouth for a response, but you concede that he’s right. You flush ever hotter.

Yoongi’s voice drops a little lower, like he’s telling you a secret, “And it was so fun to mess with you. Like, I could make this cute fucking girl blush and giggle and squirm and it was all because of me, how can I not be flattered? How can I not want to spend more time with you, push all your buttons? I figured you’d eventually do something about it. But you never did, no matter how much I pushed it with you. I wanted you to make the first move. But we started getting closer, and I thought maybe you were never going to do anything about it. Like we agreed to be friends, but on the inside we both liked each other? I didn’t want that to happen, but I was too scared to just go and ask you out. So I was getting frustrated. So that morning, I was just messing around with you again. I wanted to annoy you during class, I wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it. But you–I guess you were frustrated too, because you called me on my bluff. And then, you know, one thing leads to another and we’re somehow at my apartment, which I barely remember how we got there in one piece before–” Yoongi stops, breathless and something tender sparkling in his eyes. His hands aren’t gripping you like you might run away, just resting on the tops of your knees. Reminding you that he’s there.

“And now, in the present, I’m just confused? Did I like you before or after we…” He trails off, bashful still, even now. “Or do I feel like this now because we were together? And does that even matter now, because I like you regardless?”

All the blood has rushed away from your chest. It feels like someone has knocked all the air from you but also as if a winch has tightened ever-so around your heart.

“Let’s take it slow, if that’s something you want. Nobody…” You grapple for something to say, after that hell of a fucking lovesick speech, “Nobody said that you needed all the answers now. Don’t rush.” You take his hands back into yours.

The weight of it all hits you slowly, in successive waves. You don’t have to filter anything out, never have to make yourself feel appropriate for him. When you practice with him, study with him, eat with him… all the quiet spaces and body-wracking laughter just feel like a perfect fit. Nothing out of place. There’s never a conversation topic or something to stray away from, other than circumventing the feelings you have for him. Even then, it’s not like Yoongi pretends like the attraction isn’t there. He doesn’t skirt around it, avoid it like taboo conversation. It really only serves to amplify your conversations, a red thread pulled taut underneath everything else.

And now, you can give into that? You can show him how you really feel, and there’s just one less thing to hide?

“You know, you’re not blameless. I was super stressed out at the time, and with the Bach Festival and midterms and everything I guess… you gave me the opportunity to lessen that a little, so. I know, I know. It’s a shitty excuse. But I wanted things with you and with the way that things converged, it seemed like–”

“Serendipity?”

“A bit like that, yes.” You tighten your hands around his, and he pulls you a little closer. You’re leaning over his lap now.

You can’t choose whether to look into his eyes or at his lips. It looks like Yoongi has the same problem. He pulls you imperceptibly closer.

“Can I kiss you? If that’s not rushing, of course.”

“Yeah. Yes, please.” You soften yourself into his lap, Yoongi pulling you closer by the shoulders, sliding down to rest on your arms. You relish in the sensation, knowing it’s something that you can enjoy with a reassured heart now.

He plants a closed kiss against your lips, and somehow that makes your heart flutter more than anything else he’s ever done before. The pads of his fingertips are soft and gentle against your arms, pulling you closer by the bicep.

“I like you… I like you a lot…” Yoongi whispers against your lips, laughing at the confession. So sweet, so soft.

“I like you too…” You whisper, kissing back. Slow, chaste, if a bit restrained. The realization hits you again, slowly, like an ocean wave washing over wet sand.

Yoongi likes you back. Yoongi wants you back. You laugh at how absurd it sounds, even in your own head, nipping at his lip. “Say it again, Yoongi.”

“I like you…” Yoongi sounds coy.

You smile against him, “Say it again,” You gasp, pushing him back on the couch, gentle but firm, “I like you too, in case you didn’t know.” You can’t help but laugh. Not at the absurdity at the situation, but just out of happy shock.

“y/n, I like you…” Yoongi chuckles, deep in his chest, looking up at you. His hair falls out of his eyes.

“Do you know how happy it makes me, to hear you say that?”

You’re honestly surprised that you don’t have whiplash. Whiplash from the weeks of tension and denial, feeling like you would never get this relief, but now you have a whole new set of problems. Dating Min Yoongi.

This whole “taking it slow” thing is fucking bullshit. The past couple weeks have been one long sustained effort, some kind of marathon in testing the waters, drawing back and then pushing forward.

Maybe you spoke too soon. You have to admit that the slow build, chaste romantic courtship is nice .

The study dates are more than nice. The coffee shop dates feel almost luxurious, expensive in time in the same way that the actual coffee is cheap.

Actually, all of this is a lot nicer than having to guess his every intention, the message between the lines. But you already know what it’s like to have Min Yoongi.

In fact, things have been largely the same for the past couple weeks, except now you can feel the weight of his flirtatious jokes. You can now confidently say that Yoongi says what he means. The more time you spend with Yoongi, the more liberated you feel in letting yourself delight in the feeling of being allowed to show your feelings for him, and having them be duly reciprocated.

After the confessional evening the both of you had, Yoongi had agreed to take it slow. In your lovesick state, you probably would have said yes to anything that Min Yoongi put on the table. Which is probably why you agreed to the whole courtship thing.

“y/n… think about it like this! If we take our time then when the time finally comes… to… uh, you know, then it’ll be so much more gratifying. And I want to be with you more, like this,” Yoongi says, as you lean against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his words.

“Delayed gratification, have you ever heard of that?” Yoongi had said, smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“Although from my experience with you, I think you like instant gratification more,” He said, a touch darker. Your memory blurs now, because that was about the time he started tickling you relentlessly. And then kissing you relentlessly.

And at the time, you had agreed. The delayed gratification would make everything better, make the world a little more rose-colored than before.

You don’t want to push his boundaries, he doesn’t want to push yours, but now it’s begun nearly feels both of you are so afraid of each other that you haven’t touched each other in what seems like fucking forever–and it’s reached a boiling point, from what you can gather this evening.

The newfound tension between the two of you is new, maybe a day or two at most, but annoying nonetheless.

“Y/n, how many times have I told you? Stop rushing. Do you need me to count your part out? One, two, three, four.” He punctuates every count with a clap in your face, and a sneer to boot.

Yoongi has been especially volatile this evening. His normal jokes and jabs at you fall just short of endearing. Your initial approach at remedying the situation by focusing on the music at hand has only seemed to make things worse, and you’ve given in to your slowly-growing temper.

“I am fucking counting, and I’m not the one playing fucking half notes, okay? How about you just focus on making the harmony, I don’t know, harmonious ?” You lower your violin, face screwing up in anger, only you don’t know how much of it is joking anymore.

You don’t know how much longer you can take this kind of tension in the air. It feels angry and red and biting, but you can’t help it. The stale air-conditioned air in the practice room only seems to make your face warmer and warmer as time passes.

All this tension, and no release. That’s what music is all about. The build-up of musical intensity, the expectation and anticipation for resolution. It’s like you’ve been stuck on the same chord of a cadence, waiting for a release that feels like it isn’t coming anytime soon.

You take a deep breath, the frustration tightening in your chest. “From measure eighty-four, and take the fucking repeat this time. Let’s just move onto the next section after this, we’ll just come back to it later.”

You fight the urge to huff and sigh, knowing it would only earn you a comment from Yoongi about being, as he had put it, ‘wound up.’ Yeah, no shit, you’re wound up. Wound up is putting it lightly. Just last week Yoongi had made a mess of you at his apartment, teasing you apart and then stopping just short of an orgasm. And he said the same thing last week too: delayed gratification.

You try again, cueing him in with a sharp breath and the uptake of your bow.

And again, and again, and again.

“This isn’t working.” You set your violin on the soft lining of your case and rub your temples, resting your upper body on the body of the piano. You swipe the back of your hand across your face, breathing in the clean smell of the hand soap from Yoongi’s apartment bathroom, from when you were there a couple hours ago. Warm. Brown sugar. It feels like his embrace–if only you’d ever feel it again.

God, why did you let him push all your buttons? All evening–ever since the two of you left his apartment to come to the practice rooms–he’s been acting like this. You know it has something to do with you, another game. But you don’t have the energy to divine his ulterior motive, whatever it is. You shut your eyes to provide some reprieve from the strain of staring at the same phrase that you have been stuck on for what has felt like an eternity.

“Yeah, this isn’t fucking working,” He says. It reminds you of the way he talked to you when you found him practicing in the early morning that one Tuesday. You only open your eyes when you hear him get up from his bench.

Min Yoongi is standing too close to you. His eyes are on your lips and not your eyes. Even in the dim light of the practice room, you can see how dilated his pupils are.

You meet his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, more breathless than he’d like to admit, “You’re provoking me. Why?”

“Who said I was trying to do that? I think you,” You point a finger at his chest, looking into his eyes, “Are provoking me.” You try to sound as petulant as possible, and it works.

Yoongi’s lips meet yours before you can even take your hands off of him.

In the best sense of the word, you are cornered. Backed up against the piano, enclosed by his arms. He slips his hands up underneath the cotton of your sweatshirt, pulling you flush against him. His cool fingertips grazing the small of your back have you gasping against his soft lips.

“Tell me, why are you provoking me?”

“I, well-” You don’t continue with an excuse, because you’re finally getting what you want. What you both want.

He presses on. “Gonna answer my question, or are you just gonna keep being a little brat?” He wedges his thigh between your legs, closer to where you need him most. You stifle a moan, it’s too soon to be making those kinds of sounds, but you grind down on him anyway. “What?” He laughs, the sound sitting deep in his chest. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

You try to focus on the possessiveness in the way that he holds you by the waist, so you’re not thinking about how weak your knees are.

He sighs, as if in disappointment. Only you’re not sure who it’s directed towards.

“If I touch you right now, will you be wet?” He laughs. “I don’t even have to guess.” The ghost of his breath fans against your upper lip. “Is this what you want? Do you, do you, want to keep going?” Yoongi stops his ministrations. When you meet his eyes, both of you breathless, you can see the inquiring concern in his eyes again.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you say, trying, and failing, not to sound frantic, “Only if you’ll see it through to the end this time,” You bite.

He laughs, devoid of mirth. “You say that like it’s not hard for me, either.” His hands trail down your torso to rest at the waist of your jeans. You don’t want to pseudo-argue with him anymore, so you just whine a little from the back of your throat, hoping he’ll get the point.

You don’t want him to think that this isn’t what you want, because truth be told, it is exactly what you want. Your hands come to meet his when you reach to undo the button.

“You know exactly what to do.” He laughs, lighter this time. He’s laughing like he’s not mad at you. He helps undo your jeans, pushing them and your panties just past your thighs. You gasp when he starts rubbing gentle circles on your clit. His fingers slip against your wet, slippery pussy.

Yoongi is everywhere. He’s crowding your space against the wall, hand down your pants, the other holding your neck in place. It’s getting overwhelming with his beautiful hand rubbing little circles on your clit. So simple, and yet it feels like you’re breaking apart underneath him. It’s getting harder and harder to bite back the moans, stay in control.

“You know, these rooms are soundproof. Let me hear you,” He murmurs, pulling you closer. “Stop hiding from me.”

Yoongi shifts his attention from your wet cunt to the collar of your shirt. “What’s this? Getting busy without me?” Yoongi brushes his free hand over the circular dark mark coloring the crook of your jaw. You’re starting to get impatient with all this teasing, how much more can you take?

“Haven’t you ever heard of a violin hickey?” You spit, grinding down on his hand, but it’s not enough. God, it really has been too long since he last touched you. He never stops the gentle advance he makes on your clit, never faster, never slower. Just barely enough. “We were just practicing, it gets darker when I play.” You try to explain yourself, as if that might make him show mercy later on.

“You’re not in any position to talk back right now, don’t forget that.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking gently. “I’ll just help you add to your little collection.” Your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself. It’s been so long since anyone has touched you. It’s been so long since anyone has held you so closely.

Your desperation is beginning to show. With every movement of his hands, Yoongi starts to lessen his touch, your hips dogging his hand. You come to the realization that you’re not above begging to get what you want. He doesn’t even have to ask.

He continues his gentle assault on your clit. “Do you know what these mirrors are for? They’re for checking your posture as you practice, but I guess this is just a different kind of practice.” He turns you around, your hips digging into the wood panelling of the piano. You’re confronted by your own fucked-out reflection, flushed and panting. You’re still mostly clothed, and yet you look debaucherous, like some ancient painting of a study into the nuances of female pleasure. “Look at you. All messy. And for what? I’ve barely touched you.”

The frustration is too much, reaching a boiling point. “Please, I swear to God.” You bury your hands in your head, wiping away frustrated tears. Your legs are trembling now, now that Yoongi is only using one of his arms to brace you against him.

“Please, what?” He digs his nails into the soft skin of your hip, and you can’t help but like it. He lowers his head so it’s level with your ear, sultry, low. “Use your words.”

“Can’t you just, just-” Again, you buck your hips against his hand, as if that might make him get the point, only for him to nip at your inner thigh with his hand.

“Don’t rush me, babe.” Babe. Min Yoongi is calling you babe. Is the universe playing some trick on you?

He takes advantage of your position and leverages his knee on the inside of yours, spreading your legs further. “That’s it, just take it. Take it.” Finally, he takes pity on you and slips a finger inside. He earns an answering gasp. You can tell he means business, because he doesn’t take it slow, he doesn’t let you adjust, going directly at that spot inside of you that makes you keen for him.

You struggle to stay upright, eyes rolling back. Your fingers scrabble along the dark wood of the piano, struggling to find purchase.

“Fuck, Yoongi…”

“So needy, look at you, so fucking needy...” He drives his point home further by adding a second finger.

“I’m sooooo sorry… how can I ever make it up to you…?” Even despite the mind-bending pleasure and the prospect of Min Yoongi blowing your back out this evening, you roll your eyes.

“What if someone hears?” Your point is lost when Yoongi changes the angle of his hand, and you break off into a ragged whimper. It’s loud enough to make you embarrassed to have made that sound in the presence of another person.

“Oh, so you care about that now?” “What about that one time in class,” Yoongi all but pants in your ear, digging his nails into your thigh, “That you were being a desperate little cocktease?”

You don’t answer, shame stoking the embers in your belly, driving lower and lower. You hate, and love, that he can make you feel like this with only some stern wording and a firm hand. Because it feels that good. Because you like him that much.

“What then, hmm?” Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response however, before he’s yanking your jeans and panties further down your thighs. “Do me a favor. Touch yourself for me. Show me.”

“Why?”

“Wanna see you all messy for me,” Yoongi says, voice silky soft, liquid sex. He guides your hand down to your pussy, and god, you realize just how embarrassingly wet you are for such little foreplay. “Please?” He presses his chest flush to your back, leaning his forehead into the crook of your neck.

You oblige him. You’re wet to the point where it’s difficult to find purchase against your clit. “Okay… but you have to forgive me.”

“Forgive you for what?”

“For being needy…” You say, sweetly.

“Sure. I’ll forgive anything you do if you do this every time.” He says it like it’s a matter of fact.

You giggle, like a lovesick idiot. At the very least, you’re glad that Yoongi can make you laugh even when you’re half-play-fighting, half-on-the-verge-of-having-sex-in-your-favorite-practice room.

The vibrations of your laughter traveling through your body have you moving in new, novel ways against your own hand, and you break off into a moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He sounds genuine, and the tenderness of the moment isn’t lost to you, even despite your pleasure. At least now that you’re touching yourself, you don’t have to suffer the patient wrath of Yoongi and can touch yourself the way that you see fit.

You feel his free hand nudge against the back of your thigh and when you look, he’s dragging the heel of his hand across his pants.

Fuck. Fuck, you are so wrecked for Min Yoongi.

“No, you too,” you say, “Show me too.”

Yoongi moves away from you, pushing his waistband past his hips. He’s gripping his cock in one hand. He’s reaching for your waist again, his hand traveling up to grasp your throat. He jerks your head back. “Look, look at yourself.”

The combined sensation of his hand on your neck and own hand on your pussy is too much. Your eyes water. “Yoongi,” You gasp, “I’m going to come.”

“No, not yet. Not yet.” He wrenches your hand away, and the sudden lack of touch is almost cruel.

You buck against him, his back to you. “Please, please let me come, I can’t–you can’t do this again, fuck,” Your desperation comes out in whines, all shame lost.

“Be patient, come here.” He turns you around again, your back against the wood of the piano. And you’re looking into his eyes, dark and filled with something like lust. Min Yoongi wants you. You reach up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

Yoongi’s on your clit again, drawing light circles, testing the wetness before slipping a finger inside again. “I wanna hear you,” He says, adding another finger, more tenacity behind his strokes. He rocks his thumb against your clit. “I wasn’t asking.”

Up until now you’ve been biting your lip, muffling your cries as best as you can. You look up at him again, drawing up your courage. You feel exposed–how can you not, half-naked in the practice room, when you’re not completely confident that the soundproof padding on the walls can contain the sounds of your rapture.

“You-you fuck me so good Yoongi–” And you keen, just because he asked you to.

He stops in his fucking tracks. Again.

“Well. You fuck me so well. You can’t describe a verb with an adjective. God, I really shouldn’t let you come…”

“Oh my God, are you really going to do this right now.” You bear down on his hand with your hips again, seeking more friction. “Please… please, I can’t wait anymore.” You can hardly finish your sentence, as Yoongi fucks into you with a particularly hard thrust. You’re finding it difficult to keep your eyes open, instead opting to rest your head on his shoulder.

God, he smells so good. Like fresh laundry and the melting snow outside, warm and human and reassuring.

You can feel his smile ghosting over your neck as he leans down to suck another mark into your collarbone. “Yes, yes, I am.”

“I’m–I’m getting close again,” You say, fisting your hands in his shirt, “Just, ah–” It takes you by surprise, crashing over you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to stay upright, pulling Yoongi against you. You can feel his satisfied smile, as he pants against the curve of your neck, hot and heady and everything you need.

“Good?” He asks, after your breathing has calmed, even though you know that he knows that he’s done more than a good job.

“Okay, okay, enough bragging,” You half-laugh, half-scoff, pulling your pants up past your hips again.

“I wasn’t bragging,” He whines. It’s endearing, and you pepper his face with kisses before you get to business again.

You sink to your knees before him, and his expression immediately softens. You try to bridge the gap between the two of you, placing the palm of your hand on his thigh. Asking for permission.

“Are you sure?” He says, but the expression in his eyes saying something to the effect of “I really hope you’re sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” You say, smiling as you tease the head of his cock with your parted lips. You replace his hand with yours. It’s barely any contact, really, but Yoongi closes his eyes in pleasure nonetheless, head tilted back. Normally, in any other situation like this, you’d be at least a little bit nervous. Or shy, hoping that Yoongi keeps his eyes closed so he’s not looking at you. But the absolute deprivation you’ve felt for the past couple weeks is enough for you to not care.

You sink lower, in the wake of remembering how pent up and frustrated you’ve felt for the past couple weeks. You even, at least try to, bat your eyelashes at him. But like you guessed (or had hoped), his eyes are squeezed shut. You try not to delight in the sudden change of power too much, but it’s impossible not to.

He tightens his grip on the back of your neck, groaning. “You’re so good to me.” You take him further in your mouth, eager to please. Eager to hear him make more of those sounds. Eager to take this further.

You try your best to make it slick, flattening your tongue against him. You’re a little out of practice, after months of being alone, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. And if he does, he’s still enjoying himself. Thoroughly.

“Fuck, fuck,” He gasps, in hushed whispers.

“What a mouth on you…” Yoongi moves stray hairs out of your face, surprisingly tender given the lewdness of the situation. The sounds of your mouth fill the practice room, although hopefully not loud enough to expose your vulnerable position. You truly hope that the soundproof padding lining the walls works as advertised.

“Ah–ah wait, I’m getting close, wait–ah, y/n, fuck,” He rasps. You don’t let up quite yet, letting him sit in that in-between space between ‘on the edge’ and ‘letting go’. His free hand makes a weak fist against his leg.

Someone knocks on the door. Your first thought is that it may be security wrapping up rounds for the night.

Your eyes widen in shock as you stand upright and zip up your jeans. The surge from adrenaline at the prospect of getting caught in the act makes your head pulse and spin. Your heart seems to have fallen from the left side of your chest all the way into the pit of your stomach.

It’s hard to remember how aroused you were, not thirty seconds ago.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” For someone who was quite literally about to be balls-deep inside you, Yoongi tucks his dick back inside his pants with a surprising amount of tact and speed.

Yoongi is fixing his hair in the practice mirror as you cross the room at the piano bench, pulling out your phone to make it look like the two of you were just dawdling or taking a practice break.

Maybe twenty seconds have elapsed since the first knock at the door, which you reason might be a reasonable time for someone to stop practicing, and walk to the door to answer it. You hope it might seem reasonable.

You can feel the pulse in your neck moving as Yoongi opens the door. You train your eyes on your phone screen, as if that might make you more nonchalant.

“Hey, Yoongi-hyung.” The voice at the door is youthful, and energetic. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here this late. I was looking for you!” You finally muster up the courage to stop staring at your phone, your eyes venturing to the other side of the room.

It’s… Jungkook?

Jungkook, as in, the only bassoonist in the department, Jungkook?

Jungkook must have had the same idea as you, because he looks over at you at the same time you do.

His smile falters, albeit briefly. Whatever replaces it is something akin to a smirk. A knowing smirk. An accusatory smirk. A proud smirk.

“Hyung, who’s that?”

#armywriterssupport #btsgoldnet #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader

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ameliterature · 3 years

Text

AnderPerry Oneshot (My first Angst Fanfic of them sorry)

TODD POV uhm uhm, this oneshot makes me cry || Also posted it on Ao3 just in case?

(Inspired by a few lines from that olivia rodrigo song and someone made an edit of anderperry and it broke me)

Neil Perry you are a traitor

Neil Perry, you’re a traitor.

How dare you greet me with a warm smile, telling me we’re gonna be roommates. Why would you make me feel safe only to then ask about my past. Neil, you're so insensitive.

How dare you playfully hit me with a piece of paper when Cameron made fun of me, why didn’t you defend me? Even if you didn't, why did you try to make me feel better? Why did you introduce me to your friends, why did you try to get me into your group?

You tell me to speak up for myself? When you can’t even speak up against your father?

You tell me that I shouldn’t be so afraid, and yet you’re afraid to practice what you preach. Neil Perry you are a traitor.

Why did you ask me to join your study group? Why did you ask me that in the locker room? Why would you ask that when you’re only in a towel? Were you taunting me with your perfect body and perfect freshly-showered hair? I didn’t wanna go with you, get a damned clue. Because of you, I couldn’t focus on my chemistry assignment. Neil Perry, did you ever think your actions through?

Why did I follow you and the others outside to talk to Mr. Keating? I guess it was my fault for being curious but why the hell would I join your club? Neil Perry, why did you ask me to join your Dead Poets Society?

Why are you whispering so close to me? Why are you begging me to join? I told you I didn’t want to join, I did what you told me to do, I spoke up for myself-- Why are you so adamant for me to join you? I told you I couldn’t. Not with you around. Why did you ask the others? I didn’t need them to tell me either.

Neil Perry, why am I joining your club?

Why did I agree to run away with you and the others into the woods at night? Why do you look the way you do when you read under moonlight? I hate that you were made to read outloud, I hate that your voice echoes perfectly in just the right pitch so the reverb of the cave is calming me down. I hate how joining was a good idea.

I hate how you slept well that night, I hate how the last thing you said to me before you slept was “Thank you for coming along.” I hate that you say it like I had a choice.

I hate how I started to notice how handsome you are in class. Why were you always looking at me when I laugh? Why were you always telling me random facts? Why were you ranting to me about your dad every other night? Why were you always updating me with everything about your life when I don't. Why were you disturbing my poetry-writing with a piece of paper?

Why would you tell me about your dreams? Why do you tell me that you want to be an actor? I wish I didn’t care, but I do. I hate how you make me care about you. I hate how you make me care about you so much but when I ask about telling your dad, you yell at me. How dare you yell at me when I got comfortable with you?

Neil Perry you are a traitor. I don’t wanna be part of your stupid club anymore. I want to take care of myself. How dare you smile at me, smirk at me, make me blush and shyly smile. Why do you think you need to make my heart race all the time. Stop trying to make me care about you.

I hate how I cared about you getting the part for the play. I don’t like the feeling I get when I see your smile. I hate that sound you made when you were giddy. I hate how it made me melt. I hate being weak with anything you say. I hate how I try to scold you but you brush it off like you can walk all over my requests. I hate how you shine so fucking bright that my world is in flames.

I hate how you looked at me when I finished my poem, why would you do that? Why do I feel so embarrassed. I wish you didn’t look at me like that. I wish I didn’t see you.

Neil Perry, I hate it when you’re close to me. I hate how you like to stay beside me on my bed when I write poems. I hate how you like to tell me I’m beautiful because I don’t know what to say. Why would you call another guy beautiful?! You’re the most annoying guy I’ve ever met. I hate that you’re always begging for my attention and I give it to you, I hate how you like to bring me with you to rehearse your lines and I have fun with you, I especially hate it when you’re so close and we look at each other for too long.

Why do you like leaning on me? Why do I love it when I can feel your warmth against my body? Why do I find comfort in our closeness? I hate how you don’t think these actions through. Why would you do this to me?

I hate how you care about me, even on my birthday. I hate how you try to cheer me up when you and I both know, for a fact, you should be lifting yourself up. I hate how you make me feel safe around you and like I belong. I hate how you look at me with eyes that are in love, ones that look like mine. I hate how our eyes linger at each other in our room whenever we’re alone. I hate how everything about this feeling is unspoken.

Neil Perry you’re a traitor. Why won’t you tell me what Mr. Keating told you in his office. Why won’t you tell me anything?

I hate how you asked me to hold your hand so you could sleep that night. I hate that I did and I wanted to. I hate how you make me feel so wanted. I hate that I want you too. Why don’t you think things through?

I hate how amazing you were during your play. Why do your eyes do that when you’re happy? Why do you make me feel whole and why do I want to make you feel loved?

Neil Perry, you traitor, you told me to speak up and yet you silently followed your dad into that car. How dare you look up at me with those eyes? Why didn’t you say anything to your dad? To us? To me?!

Neil Perry you are a traitor.

Why did you do all of this? Why did you spend the last few months making me feel all these things for you? God, I wish that you thought all of this through. Before you made me fall for you.

Even if I hate what you did. Even if I hate how you are making me feel right now. After all the things, after that night.

I love how you told me we were roommates. I love how you tell me to speak up even if you couldn’t. I love how you showed off your figure just to distract me from my anxiety. I love how you always went out of your way to be with me or to make me join you. I love how you tell me everything and I love how you make it obvious you care about me.

I only hate the fact you didn’t wait for me. I wish you stuck it out and let me give in to your stupid little tactics. I hate how you didn’t think I would return your feelings. I hate how you think you’re alone and that life is only about acting. I hate how I didn’t tell you that.

Neil Perry you’re a traitor.

But so was I.

#anderperry #anderperry fanfic #i made this in like an hour or less idk #why the fuck did i write this #anderperry fic #dps #dps fic #dps fanfic #dead poets society #fanfic

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

the worst case scenario 2

i did decide to make this a little parter thing, but really want to be as sensitive as poss (honestly using this as a sort of therapy for what I see myself ah). So please do not read if anything in the warnings may trigger. I very much am not trying to ‘romanticise’ these sorts of situations in any way but also be aware medically this is NOT accurate.This part is short but I think there will be more.

warnings: hospital - ICU, respirators / mention of death , maternal mortality / talk of family dynamics and abandonment of a child

[previous part]

The sight Nikki walked into is something that as a parent you never want to see. Walking into this cold and otherwise empty ‘relatives room’ to see her son collapsed in a world of pain onto his best mates chest. Tom was too busy sobbing to even notice her entrance but her and Harrison instantly locked eyes . Not even able to muster up a greeting smile, Harrison just nodded her in, admitting her entrance to the most horrific situation.

It was about half an hour since she had been texting Haz, arranging when they’d be able to come and visit the newborn in hospital or whether it would be better to just wait till the new family got settled back at home, when Nikki had got a call from Tom’s number. With an excited grin she had instantly whipped her phone off the kitchen counter within one ring- a facial expression that didn’t last long at all.

Met with the distant sound of crying first, Harrison’s deeper voice then emitted itself from her phones speaker, alerting her to the fact everything was very not right. He’d asked her to come to the hospital, said it was Y/n, that the baby was fine and then hung up. Dom immediately agreed to come with her but right now he was still parking the car, having dropped Nikki off right at the front. It had sounded that bad.

Now, she knelt down infront of Haz and Tom, the latter who still was leaning over the arm rest and currently silently crying into his friends chest. Haz didn’t miss Nikki’s hands shaking as she reached out and rubbed up and down her sons back, the action prompting him to suddenly lean up to face her. He was broken. Totally and completely broken. Wordlessly, Nikki looked up for a second, communicating with Harrison so as if rehearsed he stood up and Nikki took his place in the chair - giving him a break from being Tom’s support. Beyond appreciative of how well Nikki could read a situation, Haz quietly but still in a hurried fashion made his way to the door.

Because he was about to crack too - Tom couldn’t see him like that, not right now at least. And so his legs, completely of their own volition, carried him down the hallways. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, all sense of time passing had completely been thrown off earlier in the morning. He was oblivious to a lot, very much in his own thoughts and only realised where he had ended up when a nurse he vaguely recognised managed to garner his attention.

“You’re here for baby Holland? She’s just round here.”

“I-“ He couldn’t respond but the nurse just nodded and then started off down the hallway, practically forcing the blonde to follow a couple of meters till they got to a perspex viewing window.

“She’s the little cutie in the far corner over there.” The brunette middle aged lady softly spoke as she pointed through the glass to the incubator in the corner. “ Don’t worry about all the equipment, the doctors already come round and cleared her. She’s good to go home when you guys are…are ready.” Her words had trailed off, Harrison guessed she didn’t know how to phrase the current ‘situation’ Tom and Y/n were in either. After a couple of moments, the nurse placed a gentle hand on Harrison’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You want to have a cuddle? I know your not dad but…”

“Yeh-yeh…please.”

Harrison just felt awful. The little girl was barely hours into life and yet she wasn’t receiving nearly as much as love as she should be. Instead unnamed and alone in a cold and clinical setting. So he silently nodded away, taking in all the instructions the nurse gave as she sat him down in the arm chair next to the incubator.

Once she placed the little blanket wrapped bundle in his arms the nurse smiled gently up at Haz “You want to feed her? I’m sure she’d prefer it from you than me love?” Ah. Now Haz really was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She’d never been given a feed before - except presumably the midwifes.

“I-uh Y/n hasn’t even so I probably shouldn’t…”

“I can promise you Miss Y/l/n would probably want her baby to be cared for by someone that loves her and that Miss Y/l/n trusts herself.” Ooof. How were nurses so intuitive? She literally read his mind and broken down all the ill-founded ideas Harrison had built up.

“I’m not her Dad.”

“But you care.” Looking down once and briefly at the squished little face that wormed herself into Harrisons broad chest a little more, he then immediately nodded in agreement. Looking almost relieved, the nurse handed him a bottle and directed him as to how to hold it. After mere moments she gasped happily, leaning back whilst the blonde boy waited for her input.

“She’s latched on easy peasy. You’re doing great, I can leave you to it if you want - I’ll only be round the corner.”

“Can you check if there’s any news on Y/n?” The kind lady nodded, before promptly exiting the room - leaving the two actually alone for the first time ever.

He didn’t even think about it, whilst Haz cradled her in one arm and held the bottle up at the angle shown by the nurse, he quietly spoke to the little bundle.

“I’m sorry you were lonely… your mum and dad love you lots and lots… we all do.” Not realising he was crying, Harrison almost scared himself when a single strangled and repressed sob escaped from his chest. “ You’re mum…. She’s a pain in the arse right?” Haz laughed a little wetly “ She’s sarky as hell and she always has an answer… you’d probably think she’s a badass… she is. And-and…. Your dad is just scared… He loves you I promise, he just… he’s worried about you mum.” Now there was actual tears welling up and overflowing his lower lash line, not matter how much he tried to blink them away. “But whatever… whatever happens. You got all of us kiddo… you got me.”

Jolted out of his thoughts by the ladies knuckles rapping twice on the door, Harrison immediately shook himself out of it, wiping his face on his arm to hopefully remove all the evidence of the slight emotional breakdown.

“Mr Osterfield… the doctor wanted me to let you know he’s on his way to talk to Mr Holland.”

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Harrison managed to get back to Tom, Nikki and now Dom before Dr Webber returned, so with a greeting nod to Dom he too took a seat opposite Nikki and Tom. His best mate wasn’t crying anymore, which could be considered a positive were it not for the sinisterly empty look in his eye. He looked almost robotic, staring almost straight ahead at the light grey wall, sat straight and rigidly except for his one hand clasped in Nikki’s.

“You went to see the baby?” Nikki broke the silence, making Harrison smile sadly over at her with a nod. It didn’t even look as though Tpm heard his mum speak, even if he was sat right next to her. “She’s okay?”

“Yeh…I gave her a bottle. She-she’s very cute.” Harrison could see Nikki’s face morph into one of kindness before she looked left toward her son. Nikki was still yet to see to unnamed girl but just thinking about her made her heart flutter. And then stop when she thought about what that little girl was already going through, barely hours into existence.

“You hear that Tom? Maybe you could go down and see her soon? After we’ve spoken to the doctor?” Nikki was only trying to do the best thing, Harrison knew it and deep down Tom did know it too. But now really really wasn’t the time for some gently encouragement from his mother, it wasn’t just Tom being a little stubborn. This was his whole entire world falling apart around him. He didnt have the energy or focus to even shoot down his mother, instead Tom chose to stay completely still - engrossed in his own thoughts.

From the outset, when you take that leap and say to a person ‘I think we should try for kids now’ you are completely putting yourself at the mercy of the other. But when they agree? Then it’s a commitment. Not it the same way marriage is - because that’s a completely selfish gesture, you get married because YOU want to be married to each other. Rather, agreeing to have a kid is a promise, a promise of something more. Promising that you are bringing this life into the world - and half of that life is yours. You create it together and it becomes a joint responsibility. You can never, no matter what people think, ever stop being a parent. At the end of it all there will be another person that knows, scientifically, it is half you. Even if they never met you - they still ‘knew’ you. They would know you had to exist, they would see things in themselves that cannot be explained rather than the influence of their creator.

And sure, it didn’t always work out that way. A parent would up and leave, a child always with questions and a sense of betrayal. But that child… they know you. Because there is half of you in them.

So it was Y/n and Tom together that was slumbering blissfully on a ward downstairs. That was the scary thing. Tom was so sure he didn’t have it in him. He wouldn’t do this without her. He couldn’t be a dad to a baby without a mum. He couldn’t be a parent without Y/n.

Almost thankfully for the atmosphere in the room, a soft know had them all snatching their heads up the very same grey slightly potato like doctor waddled in, this time followed by 2 others; a tall, dark haired woman with a soft and empathetic smile; then another man but this one tall and slender, unlike the other two who were wearing professional clothes, he was donned in scrubs (with the scrub hate too).

“Mr Holland and uh… family” Dr Webber awkwardly greeted the new arrivals of Nikki and Dom, somehow apparently sensing they were Tom’s and not Y/n’s parents who were hours away. Oh fuck, Tom hadn’t even phoned them yet.

“This is Dr Alison Goodwell and then Dr Rohan Avinash, he is Y/n’s surgeon.” They filed in and took seats surrounding them, Dom and Harrison standing up to stand off to the side, not wanting to get in the way of the doctors. All Tom could do though was overanalyse everything. Why was the surgeon here? What was this other lady doing here? A pathologist? — no, he wasn’t going to think like that. Then the taller and most scary looking of the three inched forward, commanding the attention of the whole room.

“Mr Holland, I just wanted to go over what happened. Ms Y/l/n developed plactental accreta, which was the cause of the what we call here a post partum haemorrhage. When you raised the alarm she had already lost, at best guess, 3 pints of blood which is a lot, there’s no denying. Dr Webber and his team quickly brought her up to my team in surgery. We transfused her with blood but we couldn’t stabilise her and the bleeding didn’t show any signs of stopping so we had to perform emergency surgery….” Dr Avinash slowed down as he took in how close Tom looked to bursting out in tears once again, offering him the chance to have a moment to collect himself. Vehemently shaking his head in refusal, Tom crung his hands together furiously. He just needed to know. “Okay… Now the nature of the surgery, because we had to be so quick…it is quite invasive and is a lot of stress to put on anyones body. That and the amount of blood she had already lost makes the situation very dangerous. Sometimes when this happens a persons heart-“ Tom’s breath halted in his throat at the mention of her heart, Harrison sharing the bleak trigger which made him shift uncomfortable between his two feet. “-notices this, it goes into what we call hypovoloemic shock, this just basically means its not getting enough volume of blood to pump properly. So we have had to stimulate Ms Y/l/n’s heart with electricity to keep it pumping-“

“You shocked her?” He felt so numb and now adrenalin was coursing through his own veins, images like you see on TV shows of her body arching up not he table from the volts of electricity.

“I’m afraid we did have to but it meant we could keep her stable enough to fix the bleed. I am sorry to say this but we’ve had to remove her whole womb because it was so damaged.”

“But Y/n?” Again Harrison lost all willpower of control, though to be fair he wasn’t sure if he was being impatient or not - this doctor appeared to be delivering this news painfully slowly, as if to torture everyone as much as possible.

“Your fiancé lost a lot of blood and her body went through a lot” The towering doctor kept his focus on Tom the whole time, Harrison’s interjection seemingly falling on selectively deaf ears. “We’ve had to use a machine to control her breathing and for the moment she is still in a very dangerous place. Right now she is stable but I don’t want to make any promises to you. We are nowhere close to out of the woods yet.” Seemingly, feeling compelled to add in, the brunette doctor spoke for the first time since entering.

“But it’s still one hurdle she has got through… Now that the surgeons are finished with Ms Y/l/n me and the other intensive care doctors will be keeping a very close eye on her okay? We are all going to be working with you and your family 24/7, to keep Y/n as comfortable as possible.” Her soft smile managed to somehow break through to Tom, who jerkily nodded while Nikki squeezed his hand tight. There had been a lot of that going on today and even if Tom would say he wished nothing more that it was Y/n rather than his mums grip - he still appreciated it. The doctor continued, leaning forward so her elbows were resting on the tops of her thighs. “Right now she’s asleep and probably will be for quite a while. We first want to be sure she’s not in any pain, so she is sedated. Now assuming everything goes okay tonight and she stays stable we might want to think about possibly reducing that sedation, however for right now I hope you are all in agreement that we just want to make sure she’s comfortable?” The whole room nodded steadily in response which the doctor acknowledged with a satisfied smile.

“And we are all aware this is a lot to take in so if you have any questions or think of any please just let us know - it’s important that you guys are all fully in the know… How is your daughter?” Dr Webber started off so well, Tom was almost going to smile thankfully at him, until he mentioned it. Instantly, the cold and empty look reappeared behind Tom’s eyes as the room was held in silence for long enough to be uncomfortable. To be fair, the doctor wasn’t to know that recently Tom had taken to refusing to acknowledge he even had a child.

“I-she’s really good… the nurse there said she’s ready to leave whenever” Harrison had to show that at least someone was looking out for her, he couldn’t not.

“Okay” sharing a knowing look with Harrison, Dr Webber pitifully clasped his hands together, before looking back to Tom. “Would you like Dr Alison take you up to see her, sir?”

again pls let me know if anyone is very not okay with this, i can take it down and not write any more!

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #Tom Holland angst #angst

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