#please god let me pluck a fucking melody out of nowhere

[bobbiethepunkkid]

breaking news: drummer can't write a melody, hides in toilets to avoid their assignment

#they/them #please god let me pluck a fucking melody out of nowhere #punx #some kid called me 'mohawk girl' and then asked for my snap #i had to awkwardly tell him i don't have a snap and i'm not a girl :/

[miraculous-ninjabird]

Posting this older work at the request of @rosiehunterwolf

No I don't have anything else context wise for you, sorry

No Working Title

Rating: T for swearing and tw

This is Angst.

TW for: panic attack, mentions of pain/injury, mentions of body modification

Word count: 1862

Summary: Lloyd wakes up after a dangerous showdown with his father that ended badly. Something isn't right, he knows it. He's just not sure what. It doesn't help he can't remember what happened

The first thing that Lloyd becomes aware of is the pleasant sound of singing. The melody is unfamiliar, but soothing. It reminds him of a memory he can’t quite fully grasp. Just a fuzzy feeling of warmth, and safety. It’s a feeling he feels the need to cling to with all his might. A large part of him wants nothing more than to stay just like this.

Another, smaller, part of him is telling him he should do...something. But he is tired. So incredibly tired. He would much rather stay as he is, comfortable and listening to the unfamiliar song.

If he had been in charge, he would have stayed as he was forever. Unfortunately, his mind was being incredibly uncooperative and it was becoming harder and harder to focus. There was still something… Lloyd tries desperately to remember what it is. His brain short circuits and in the end he gives up, allowing the music to lull him back to sleep.

When Lloyd comes to for the second time, he is more aware. Soft voices are arguing above him. A throbbing pain makes itself known to him, pressing behind his eye. He makes an attempt to blink, and instantly regrets the choice. Doing so causes the pain to morph from something moderately uncomfortable into a white hot searing sensation that, for a terrifying moment, completely overtakes him. It starts to fade quickly enough, but it leaves him uncomfortable and upset. In an effort to distract himself, he focuses on the conversation above him.

“Please. It’s been three days. You have to take care of yourself Kai,”

“It’s at least partially my fault this happened. I’m not leaving until I know he’s gonna be okay,”

“I’m not going to get into the fault argument since we’ve already been there. But we know he’s stable. I’ll be here the entire time. Nothing is going to happen. Just six hours. Sleep, eat, shower.”

“I can sleep and eat without having to leave,” Kai counters weakly. Even in his hazy state, Lloyd could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“We both know you won’t do either of those things.” Nya pushes gently. “I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left that chair for something other than the bathroom in the last week. That’s not good for him or you. You won’t be any help to Lloyd, now or when he wakes up, if you can't at the very least take care of yourself. The last thing we need is both of you out of commission.”

There was a pause, followed by Kai grumbling his agreement. Lloyd struggles with himself, making an effort to do anything to let Kai know that he was here. A movement. A sound. Anything to reassure Kai that he is here. He feels himself slipping back into unconsciousness. He tries to fight it, but as the soft singing from before resumes, he knows he’s lost. Barely a moment passes before he sinks into the darkness once again.

When he comes around for the third time, he is actually able to open his eyes. He is once again met with a stabbing pain, but this time it is more bearable. Blinking slowly, his vision begins to come into focus. Something about it was off but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. All he knew is it was making it difficult to think and even harder to focus. The harsh lights do little to help.

The room he’s in is unfamiliar. Sparsely decorated with dull grey walls, there isn’t really much to look at. An empty chair is placed next to the bed with a blanket folded neatly across the back. There is a sink in one corner, and another door leading to what he assumes is a bathroom. He is alone.

As Lloyd struggles to push himself into a sitting position, the door slides open. Nya steps in, steaming mug gripped tightly in her hand. She looks up, starting in shock when she sees Lloyd. The mug slips from her grasp, shattering on the ground. She hardly seems to care as she rushes to his side.

“Lloyd!” She cries. “You’re awake? Since when? How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Urghhhhhhh,” He groans, not quite able to quite form a coherent thought. Nya pauses her questions, seemingly realizing Lloyd wasn’t ready for that yet. Strong arms reach out, helping to settle him into a comfortable upright position. The lights are still too bright. He presses his hands into his eyes in an attempt to relieve the pain. It feels wrong, in a way. The skin under his one hand feels far too cool and strangely...metallic? That couldn’t be right. He must be imagining things.

“Is something wrong?” Nya taps his hand gently, bringing his focus back to her.

“Lights,” he murmurs.

“Oh! Let me fix that…�� she gasps. There is some shuffling and the lights dim to a more acceptable level. He lowers his hands and squints. This he could deal with.

“Better?” She asks, and Lloyd nods. Nya gives him a smile. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since...a minute or two ago?” He blinks rapidly as one half his vision blurs strangely, almost like tv static. “Something is wrong with my eye. I can’t quite...I don’t know. It’s all blurry and weird.”

Nya’s smile drops instantly. She reaches out, grabbing both of his hands, fixing him with an intensely worried look.

“Lloyd, how much do you remember?” She presses gently. Lloyd racks his brain.. He remembers going to visit his dad, but the events afterwards are a terrifying blank.

“I...I don’t know,” he whispers. “I can’t remember anything from after I got there.”

Nya lets out a soft ‘oh’. The look on her face tells him there is something he should be remembering.

“Not to scare you or anything but…” She steps away, retrieving a hand mirror from the sink and handing it to him. Lloyd takes it, looks, and immediately drops it. He stares at the wall for a moment before hesitantly picking the mirror back up, studying the reflection.

“What the fuck. What is that? Nya. Tell me right now that I’m imagining things. Fuck. This can’t be real,” Instead of two completely normal matching human eyes, he has...whatever this is supposed to be. His left eye is now entirely black except the iris, which glows an eerie green color. Matching green lines etch the side of his face, extending up into his hairline and across his cheek. WHY DOES HIS EYE LOOK LIKE THAT? What the fuck happend to him?

As he stares, his vision once again starts to blur. Panic surges through him as he realizes what he is looking at. He has a robot eye. An honest to god robot eye that he has no memory of whatsoever. Someone had cut his eye out and replaced it with this monstrosity. Why can’t he REMEMBER?! Desperately he tries to recall something. Anything really. He comes back with nothing. Just one giant empty blank. There had to be something. You don’t just wake up one day with a robot eye and not remember it.

Out of nowhere, a thought strikes him. His eye. It looks just like Zane’s had. The lines carved across his face look just like the ones running up and down Skylor’s arm. The glowed the same shade as everything in his father’s stupid base. Did that mean…?

An uncomfortable constricting feeling takes root in his chest and he lets out a strangled gasp. No no nonononononono this couldn’t be happening. Stupid stupid stupid! He would never...but his dad. His thoughts begin to spiral as he desperately tries to stop himself from piecing things together. He no longer wants to know. Don’t think. Don’t remember. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Lloyd. Breath,” Nya’s voice cuts through his panicked haze. As she speaks, he becomes aware of the fact he has not, in fact, been breathing. He takes a gasping, shuddering breath. His lungs don’t like that and he devolves into a fit of coughing. The mirror is plucked from his grasp and firm hands squeeze his arms with just enough force to drag his mind back to the real world. Nya speaks again.

“Look at me.” He obeys, turning his gaze on her. She opens her arms, a silent gesture. Lloyd doesn’t hesitate, flinging himself at her with what limited strength he has left and pressing into her. With a start, he realizes that he is crying.

“You’re scared. I would be too. I wish I could tell you it was all a dream,” She murmurs softly. “This is undoubtedly strange and scary for you. There’s no avoiding it.”

Strange and scary? Life altering and utterly terrifying seemed more appropriate terms. Waking up missing part of his memories wasn’t a thing he really knew how to handle. Unexpectedly becoming part android was not something he was equipped to handle. Theorizing his father was responsible was NOT something he wanted to even think about handling. Not in the slightest. How was he supposed to move on from this?

Nya seemed to sense he was spiraling. Maybe the fact he has started to tremble uncontrollably had given it away

“Hey, hey. I wasn’t finished. You may be experiencing something horrible, but you aren’t alone. I’m here. Kai is here. The others are all here. Whatever happens. We are here to support you.” Nya pulls him tighter, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

Lloyd doesn’t really know what to say. There isn’t really anything he can say. He finds himself clinging to her like she is a lifeline. His head is throbbing, and he finds himself feeling drained. Nya’s arms are warm and comfortable, but it’s not enough to drive off the fear. It clings to him, worming its way into every dark corner of his mind. He wants to scream, but the best he can get is a choked sob.

In response, Nya starts to hum. Lloyd recognizes the tune immediately. It was the same one from before. He latches onto the sound with everything he has. The effect was almost instantaneous. When focused on the soft notes, the panic fades to the background. It was still there, but more manageable than before. Slowly but surely, he starts to feel like he can breathe again. His whole body relaxes into Nya’s embrace. Maybe if they could just stay like this...

It’s only a few minutes before Nya hears the soft sound of snoring. Looking down, she sees that exhaustion has won out and Lloyd has once again slipped into unconsciousness. That was a relief. She’d screwed that up big time. Next time he woke, she would make sure to tread more carefully. And when Kai came in to relieve her, she would have to make sure to update him on the situation. He would undoubtedly be mad, but she wasn’t about to leave a panicking Lloyd to go wake him up. Looks like things were going to be far more complicated than they’d originally thought...

#Ninjago #Lloyd garmadon #Nya smith #Malcolm's writing #Tw mentions of body modification #tw panic attack #tw injury #uneditied #as of right now this is complete

[binniedeactivated]

For the Time Being.| gyu💫(2)

╰─▸🖤❝ @[𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈.. ]

✎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒃𝒆𝒐𝒎𝒈𝒚𝒖 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

✎ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆¡

✎ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕; 2k

[@𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆] 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇..

-ˏˋ🍧 “𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒎–𝒇𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘? 𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆…”.  ˎˊ-

“so, how much did you pay him?”. yara snarled to you as the game began wrapping up. your university team had won at a 15 point blow out. the game was really close and you had to say the team did an amazing job keeping their score up. and no, you weren’t staring at how happy beomgyu was celebrating with his team members, smiling and high fiving them out of pure triumph. 

“she’s ignoring you on purpose yara”. rayne mentions grabbing her purse. you quickly snap out of it.”I’m not ignoring her. I don’t have to respond to her negativity all the time”. 

yara smirks, “negativity? just admit you paid beomgyu to talk to you. and it’s a fucked up thing to do if you asked me. if a guy likes me I’d like him to like me naturally”.

“I didn’t pay him. he came up to me first”. 

“so after you saw yara and rayne gushing over him you went away and came back with him holding your hand out of nowhere?”. sage questions skeptically. 

“he said he wanted to walk me to my seat”. you mumbled.

“yeah ri--”. 

“hey”. beomgyu interrupted just two steps away from you down the bleachers. he was looking directly at you as if your friends weren’t even there. a small smile flickered at the corner of his lips. you were surprised to even see him. 

“hey beomgyu”. you greet sort of shyly, pathetically. 

“it’s like a ritual after we win a game, all the guys just go out and celebrate whether it be alone or all together. I was wondering if you want to come maybe?”. 

he looked so shy but he was looking at you confidently and you thought it was kind of cute. he was trying to be brave for you. 

“if you don’t have any plans already”. he adds. 

“no I don’t. I’ll come”. you agreed with a nodding head. the trio looked at you in disbelief, perhaps you paid him for this ordeal too. 

“you played good tonight beomgyu”. rayne rushed to say, looking as desperate as possible. you made your way down the steps with the help of beomgyu who slid his hand into yours to help you. he nodded to rayne uttering a small thank you before he turned around to leave with you. 

you had to say, that shit felt good to do.

the crowd was slowly spilling out of the doors and to make sure you didn’t get lost beomgyu was clutching your hand tightly. you hoped to god something embarrassing didn’t happen like your hand releasing waterfalls of sweat out of nowhere. 

“so are we really going somewhere? or did you do that to save me from my bitchy friends?”. 

beomgyu laughs a little, “maybe a little bit of both. did they believe you?”. 

“they think I paid you to talk to me”. you admitted tossing in an eye roll for good measure. 

“wow they really think you’re that incapable of getting a man?”. 

“I guess so”. you murmured. beomgyu was tugging you until the both of you were finally out of the crowded and may you add, very humid gymnasium. the frigid night breeze felt like a breath of fresh air against your skin. you didn’t quite know where he was leading you until he was pulling a grey sports car passenger door open for you.

“after you madamè”. beomgyu says playfully, and roll your eyes and laugh at him because, well, he was an idiot. 

you kind of felt like a rebel. normally, these kind of nights would consist of you and your friends getting something quick to eat, calling it a night and parting ways to go to your dorms. but now here you were, in choi beomgyu’s car riding along the beautiful dimly lit night streets with the wind sneaking trips through your hair. 

the soft guitar melody of the indie music coarsed through the car, liturgical and heartfelt somehow making you feel as though you were in some scene out of a movie. except you knew you’d never be the main character in this kind of movie. 

“so, you come here often?”. beomgyu questions jokingly while still clutching the steering wheel, the destination of you both still being a mystery to you. 

“shut up beomgyu”. you laugh, “but if that’s your way of asking me my year and major, I’m a sophmore here. fashion design major”. 

beomgyu nods in approval, “I can tell”. 

you found that your occasional glance stealing of beomgyu became a full on heist at this point. how can someone be so attractive even behind a wheel? 

“what’s that supposed to mean?”. you say playfully pretending to be offended. 

“I mean, you dressed really nice to be going to just a game tonight. unless you had someone in mind”. beomgyu jokes once more.

you stifle the blush at your cheeks, “I didn’t, I’m nothing like my friends. I don’t dress to look good for guys, I do it for myself. I like looking and feeling beautiful”. 

“with a face like yours you surely don’t need to dress up to look beautiful”. beomgyu mumbles under his breath, all of it sounding like nothing but mesh to your ears. 

“huh?”. 

“nothing. we’re here”. 

you glance out of the front window to see this turquoise and pink colored, vintage looking diner. The vibrant blinking sign stood tall above it, 

For the Time Being.

“after you madamè”. beomgyu says again opening the passenger door with his hand out. you take it regardless of his dorky remark. just because he was cute. 

“where are your friends?”.  you inquire, the diner being quite vacant with the exception of a few elderly couples here and there. you slide inside the sea green colored plush booth seat across from beomgyu. 

“I don’t know, probably doing something else tonight”. he says casually before plucking up a menu and holding it just a little over his face. you smirk and tilt it down a little, 

“I thought you said you and your friends hang out to celebrate?”.

“yeah you know--whether it be alone or all together”. beomgyu says way too quickly. he was getting so shy and timid, like a child when the meet santa claus for the first time. 

“you’re neither alone or with them”.

“and maybe I lied”. 

“why would you lie beomgyu?”.

because maybe I’m okay with celebrating even if it’s with you, beomgyu wanted to say. but he didn’t. instead it was the waiter who was saying anything, asking the both of you what drinks you’d like to start off with. the orders were given and the waiter quickly scurried off to fetch them.

“so I was thinking...”. beomgyu starts, “maybe you can post this stuff on snapchat or something to make it look real you know?”. 

“I feel like if I post it I will seem, like desperate to them. It won’t look real at all”.

“why not? you can do that little thing girls do. you know the ‘On a date kind of nervous’ thing”. the both of you laugh at the idea. 

“they’re going to think that I’m trying to flex if I do it. maybe you should do it. do you have them on snapchat?”. 

“I’m not sure maybe I should check”. beomgyu mentions and pulls out his phone opening the snapchat app immediately. 

the waiter diligently sits the beverages on the table in front of you, asking if you guys were ready to order. you settled on the idea of banana nut pancakes while beomgyu ordered a burger, fries and a strawberry milkshake. you wondered how he could be so skinny yet possess such a big appetite. 

“I’m sure you do they practically stalk you on every social media platform there is”. you say with an eye roll. 

“rayne, yara, and sage?”. beomgyu reads aloud. “yes that’s them”. at your confirmation, beomgyu presses the add back button on each of their names. 

“so what are you going to post?”. you add, taking a sip of your lemonade. 

beomgyu thinks for a split second before getting an idea. he slides his arm on the table. “here, put your hand in mine”. you steadily placed your hand on top of his and he angled his phone camera on them both. except he wasn’t quite satisfied at how hesitant your hand looked to be on his.

“can you hold my hand with more love please? sheesh. what are we? friends?”. 

you laugh, snaking your fingers in between his. “fine then”.

“now look at me”. 

your eyes immediately divert to beomgyu and he instantly starts making kissy faces and cooing at you like an idiot. you couldn’t help but to chuckle at his efforts. he quickly snaps the picture; a blurry POV picture, you were in the middle of laughing with your hands folded into his. 

he posts it to his story with no hesitation. 

but of course before he did that, he saved the picture to his phone. 

just don’t tell anyone he did that.

“now we shall wait for their reactions”. 

gratefully the food arrived to satisfy the hunger rumbling in your stomach. the pancakes looked and smelled delicious, maybe beomgyu was onto something by taking you here. you gave the waiter a small thank you before he went on his way. 

“can I at least see the picture beomgyu? i want to know if it will make them jealous or not”. 

“don’t worry it will”. 

“how do I know?”. 

“just trust me, it’s cute enough”. he assures squirting bucket loads of ketchup on his fries. 

“if it’s cute enough then let me see”. 

“you don’t need to see”. beomgyu laughs, he was really scared that you were going to tell him to delete it. he really loved the picture. 

“please?”. you beg, beomgyu bit the inside of his cheeks. 

“give me a piece of your pancake and I’ll let you see”.

“fine” you agree, cutting a perfect square. beomgyu opens his mouth. “ah!”. you roll your eyes airily and shoved a forkful in his mouth. he munches with his mouth full. 

“now show me”. 

“no you can’t make me”. he retorted and quickly hid his phone underneath himself. much too fast for you to see anyway. you looked under the table to see if he hid it there. 

you wanted to look serious but the smile on your face said otherwise. “beomgyu i’m serious let me see the phone”. 

“for what it’s just a picture”. he shrugged off biting into a fry. your eyes cut him down to size and you decided to make your way to his side of the table instead, towering over him for once. 

“let me see”. 

“you’d have to find my phone first”. he laughs. you realized the table and the seat was pretty vacant so there was only one place it would have to be. you start reaching underneath his lap and he’s trying his best to grab it making sure it was out of reach for you. as hard as you tried the both of you became a tangled mess with you unintentionally falling on top of beomgyu in the name of phone stealing. 

he’s was busy laughing at your failure of retrieving it until you pick your head up and the both of your eyes lock; he realized you were straddling him. he immediately became turmoil on the inside. 

#txt #txt fluff #beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #fake dating trope #tropes

[bastardtetsu]

{day 13} falling slowly | semi x reader

pairing: semi eita x gn!musician!reader

genre: angst, mutual pining or unrequited love depending on how you look at it

wc: 1.8k

warnings: a little swearing, reader who plays piano/sings, mention of a previous relationship, unresolved feelings, just a lot of pain

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

falling slowly eyes that know me and i can’t go back

—falling slowly; once (music & lyrics by glen hansard & marketa irglova, book by enda walsh)

“that song you just played— did you write that?”

you stood there, wide-eyed, staring him down as he turned to walk away from the spot where he had just been busking on the sidewalk. semi wanted to ignore you, but your resolute gaze already had a vice grip on him.

“yeah,” he grunted reluctantly.

“it’s very good.”

“thanks.”

despite his gruffness, you were still staring at him like your life depended on it. it was kinda unnerving.

“why’d you leave your guitar?” you questioned him with a sense of urgency, gesturing to the guitar semi had left in its case on the sidewalk. his expression hardened.

“i don’t want it anymore,” he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

“you should take it. those things are expensive, you know.”

“fine,” he grumbled, shooting you a glare as he stooped to grab the case by the handle, “i’ll sell it if it makes you feel better.”

“i know a shop!” you blurted out, “a music shop. where you can sell your guitar. i was just on my way there, actually!”

“…seriously?”

“it must be fate!”

those words made him cringe back then.

as the two of you entered the store, a cozy place packed with various instruments, you wasted no time making a beeline for the back of the store, dragging a confused semi along with you.

“where are we going? i thought we were here to sell my guitar,” he questioned.

“just follow me,” you insist. the determination in your voice told him there was no point in resisting.

you continued leading him through the shop, all the way to an old upright piano that sat towards the back. “the owner lets me play this whenever i come in,” you explained, your merciless gaze now fixed on the instrument, “it’s a beautiful piano. if i ever win the lottery, this is the first thing i’m buying.”

semi just watched you quietly as you stood there, marveling at it. he was able to appreciate the intensity of your stare more now that he wasn’t the subject of it - the way your eyes glimmered was actually kind of entrancing.

“so what would you like to hear?” you questioned, suddenly turning your gaze back on him as you sat yourself on the bench, “bach? mozart? something of my own?”

“oh, uh— whatever you want,” he muttered. there was clearly no use stopping you at this point, so he might as well comply.

you positioned yourself and began playing. it was a somber melody, gentle but distinctly melancholic. your concentration remained unbroken as your fingers danced gracefully across the keys, until the final mournful note echoed through the empty store.

“did you write that?” semi asked, a bit awestruck by your talent.

“no. felix mendelssohn did.”

“ah.”

“now you play me one,” you demand, eyes aglow.

“wh—no,” semi faltered.

“please,” you begged.

“no,” he stated firmly, his expression hardening again, “i just came here to get rid of my guitar.”

“what do you mean?” you protested, “your music is good, why are you giving up on it?” semi cringed at the sting of your question.

“there’s no point anymore,” he snapped, “it’s gotten me nowhere.”

“what, so you’re quitting ‘cause you’re not famous?”

“i’m not—“ he scoffed defensively, “you wanna play your songs for people who want to listen.”

“well i’m people,” you stated, your gaze on him more unyielding than ever, “and i want to listen. now play me a song.”

the rigidity of your stare was almost enough to convince him.

“no.”

however, just as semi turned to leave, as if by some sort of drama-induced miracle, a sheet of folded paper fell from his coat pocket, which you wasted no time snatching up before he could even grab at it.

“hey—“ he protested, “give it back, come on.”

“music is dead to you, right?” you taunted, “so isn’t this trash?”

“you know what,” he huffed, his patience at its limit, “fuck it—yeah, keep it. it was nice meeting you.”

“hey!” you barked right as he was turning to leave. his head spun around to find your eyes staring him down with the most intensity and desperation he’d seen from you all day. “you won’t die if you play this song with me,” you spoke to him sincerely, “please.”

he didn’t answer, but remained frozen where he stood, unwilling to break from your acute gaze as you lowered yourself onto the bench and placed your fingers on the keys.

you perused the slightly crumpled page while semi waited with nervous anticipation, reminding himself to breathe as you began to play the notes he had scrawled onto the staff.

as your fingers began to recreate the familiar motif with impressive precision, he gingerly picked up his guitar from its case by the piano, looping the strap over his head as he started to sing,

“i don’t know you but i want you all the more for that”

he sang tentatively at first, the words and notes like scratches upon an unhealed scab, until your voiced chimed in with a harmony,

“and words fall through me and always fool me and i can’t react”

semi began to strum at his guitar, more self-assured as the gentle tune continued, your voices and instruments moulding together as the music swelled into chorus after chorus. his reluctant voice became more and more powerful with each changing chord, each strum of his guitar more intentional as the sounds intermingled with yours, creating new discoveries within a painfully familiar refrain.

as the tempo slowed to a quiet halt, your eyes met with his again until you played the final chord in unison. you both stood there in silence for a moment, as if you were waiting for the final sound waves to finish reverberating, dissolving into the air.

“so where is she?” your question broke the silence.

“where’s who?”

“the girl in the song,” you clarified, “is she dead??”

“what—no, jesus,” semi sputtered, caught off guard for what must be the 75th time today.

“so where is she?” your gaze is on him again, adamant as ever.

“she left,” he uttered, his dejection covered by his brusque tone, “about six months ago. there was nothing else for her here, so—”

“so you still love her?”

semi’s face twitched, feeling his chest tighten at the question.

“no. we’re finished,” he stated shortly.

“no one who writes a song like that is finished,” you enunciated firmly, causing his breath to catch. “if you sing this to her, i bet she’ll take you back.”

“huh?” the ash blond’s face twisted into a confused scowl.

“i’m serious.” the gleam in your eye only affirmed your statement.

“no way,” he replied, “i’m not running after some woman who’s doing fine without me just so i can sing her some stupid—“

“it’s not stupid!” you nearly yelled at him before softening a bit, maintaining your resolute stare. “your songs are good,” you stated emphatically. semi felt his breath catch again, this time accompanied by a rush of warmth to his face. “do you have more??”

-

your heart nearly stops when you see it, breath catching in your throat as the sting of tears begins to prick your eyes.

the old upright piano you had spotted one day in a music store now sits in your living room, a large, bright red ribbon adorning its shiny wooden surface. there is no note, but you need no indication to know who it’s from.

he must be long gone now. he got a call from his ex practically begging him to come back, so of course he went. it doesn’t matter how many longing glances you caught as you helped him rehearse, or how much electricity you felt surge through your body every time you so much as brushed his hand while reaching for some sheet music.

he has unfinished business. you’ve both always known that, it’s why you tried so hard to keep your distance, even as you helped him produce a studio album, relentlessly encouraging him not only to keep pursuing music, but to keep pursuing her. it’s what he deserves. it’s not your place.

it doesn’t matter how much your heart wanted to leap out of your chest when his stern grey eyes stared into yours, uncharacteristically earnest, as he squeezed your hands in his and thanked you for changing his life. he was talking about the music. you’ve only ever talked about the music.

it doesn’t matter that no matter how hard you tried to maintain your distance - god, you really tried - his songs always pulled you back in. those songs aren’t about you. he wrote those for someone else, someone who he is destined to go back to.

it doesn’t matter that every time he played one he felt a shift, like discovering a new harmony, each lyric twisting into a different meaning. that somewhere along the way, he started singing them about you — you can’t think about that. it can’t be about that.

it doesn’t even matter that he said you were a part of his new life, starry-eyed and nearly breathless, imploring you with to run away with him and start a band together, make an album, just the two of you and all your beautiful music. it was just a silly fantasy. one can only entertain such a delusion for so long before you have to move on with your real life again.

as you lower yourself onto the piano bench, you imagine yourself back in the shop on that day, the ash-blonde musician you had just met scowling dubiously as you began to play the opening of one of his songs. you can almost hear the delicate strains of his guitar as he plucked the accompaniment on the strings, his voice growing stronger as he sang.

“and games that never amount to more than they’re meant will play themselves out”

you recall sitting with him at the top of a hill just outside of town one night, looking down at the warm lights of the city twinkling in the distant. he told you about the first time he ever felt scared. you told him you only saw him as a friend. could he tell you were lying?

“take this sinking boat and point it home we’ve still got time“

tears begin to well in your eyes, blurring your vision as you play. but you don’t even need to see the keys, because you know this song too well. it’s engraved in your muscle memory. no matter how hard you try, your body will remember.

“raise your hopeful voice you have a choice you’ve made it now”

“call your girl tonight,” you reminded him as you left the recording studio for the last time. he asked you to come over to his place later, but you’re not going. you know better than that.

“falling slowly sing your melody i’ll sing it loud”

the tears are falling freely now, wetting your hands and the keys, but you continue playing as if semi were right there singing along with you, creating sweet harmonies and stirring chords together, losing yourselves in the music.

you allow the song to engulf you, the melody washing over you like a wave of pure feeling as you bid goodbye to the man you fell unwillingly, irreparably in love with.

a/n: i’m not normally an angst person, or a huge semi simp really, but i still ended up hurting my own feelings with this lmao. i’d probably let semi ruin my life as much as he wants too, let’s be real. the songs linked at the top are definitely required listening for this one (the first link is them together in the music shop, the second one is the reprise at the end) and if you really wanna experience pain, find a bootleg of the show & watch the whole thing bc i truly struggled trying not to shove the entire musical into this one fic (once again if u need help finding it i may or may not have a link if u dm me)

taglist: @izagraceee​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops

#haikyuu!! #semi eita #semi eita x reader #semi x reader #haikyuu x reader #25 days of ficmas #.txt #e writes

[joe-mazzello-archive]

The Strangers - Chapter Two - Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’

A Joe Mazzello x OC fic

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 6.2k

Chapter Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, sexual references, slight angst (if you squint)

A/N: It’s finally here! So while the first chapter focused on Joe, this one lets us get to know Marley a bit more. Two down, four to go! Feedback is appreciated and my taglist is open!

Marley woke up with a dull headache and an awful taste in her mouth. The sun shone through the window across from the bed, bathing the room in a soft light. She threw an arm over her face to shield her eyes from the brightness. With a groan, she sat up, her head spinning as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. Something shifted in the corner of her eye and she quickly realized she was not the only one in the bed.

She was not in her apartment. Oh right. Memories of the night before came flooding back to her. A series of events had led her to some random club somewhere in town. The guy was easy on the eyes and was clearly there for the same reason she was. She was horny and he was willing.

Marley eased her way out of the bed while her eyes scanned the floor for her clothing. She located her shirt, jeans, and boots, but her undergarments were nowhere to be found.

Fuck it. She threw on the clothes she could find and glanced back at the poor lad still asleep in his bed before slipping out of the bedroom. What was his name again? Tom? Todd? Whatever.

She found her phone and purse unceremoniously tossed on the ground. She said a silent prayer as she clicked the home button on her phone. 17%. Thank fucking god. It was enough to figure out where the fuck she was and how the fuck she was getting home.

As she left the apartment and made her way down the stairs, she pulled up the front-facing camera on her phone. She cringed at the sight of her obvious bedhead and the black smudges under her eyes. She ran her fingers through her bleached locks and attempted to rub off the dark makeup before she made her way out onto the street. She caught sight of a dark mark under her right ear and rolled her eyes. Fuck you, Todd. Or Tom. Whatever.

After a quick Google search of the nearest bus stop, Marley locked her phone and shoved it in her pocket with a sigh. Another day, another walk of shame. But she didn’t feel shame. She felt nothing. Maybe that was the problem. She always ignored the knowing looks people gave her as she made her way home. Fuck what they thought of her. So she sleeps around. Big deal. At least she didn’t have to deal with the bullshit that came with relationships any more. She glanced around at the cast of characters who filled the rest of the bus seats. The woman playing with her wedding ring could be dealing with marriage issues. The guy glued to his phone screen could be swiping through every dating app out there to try and find a mate. But Marley chose not to deal with any of it. If she didn’t get attached, she couldn’t get hurt. But she could still get laid.

Marley dug through her bag and pulled out her headphones, plugging them into her phone. Might as well enjoy the last of my phone battery. She hit shuffle and smiled at the song that popped up first. She immediately felt herself relax.

Anthony works in the grocery store Savin' his pennies for someday Mama Leone left a note on the door She said, Sonny, move out to the country Workin' too hard can give you a heart attack You oughta know by now Who needs a house out in Hackensack? Is that what you get with your money? It seems such a waste of time If that's what it's all about Mama if that's movin' up Then I'm movin' out I'm movin' out

She couldn’t help but mime the drum part to one of her favorite songs of all time. She knew people were probably staring. Fuck it, she was enjoying herself. These days music was her only solace. She didn’t have to think about anything. She could just feel. The music could flow through her, bringing her instant relief to whatever was plaguing her mind.

Eventually, the bus pulled up to Marley’s stop. She hopped off, already in a better mood than before. She made the short walk to her building and climbed the stairs two at a time, wanting nothing more than to plant herself in front of her drum set for the next few hours. A cacophony of sounds rang out through the hall; Marley’s building was full of musicians so that no one could complain about the noise. She could make out Leon’s trumpet blaring and clearly hear Brenda rehearsing for whatever musical she’d be auditioning for that week. She finally reached her door at the end of the hall and let herself in, letting out a deep breath as she closed the door behind her.

After a quick shower, Marley scoured her messy room for some clean clothes. She was super behind on laundry, spending most of her time lately behind her home drum kit or behind the one at Sully’s. She threw on an old band tee from her closet and plucked some black jeans off the floor, giving them a sniff and determining they were clean enough.

Marley plopped down at her drum set with a sigh, instant relief flowing through her body. She always felt her most comfortable in that exact spot. She felt in control, like nothing and no one could shake her. As she began to warm up with some quick trills, her mind went clear. She closed her eyes and let the sounds flow through her body.

Then she let loose. She went to town on the drums in front of her, unleashing every feeling and emotion with each beat. She felt power flow through her fingertips and her entire body buzzed. This was home. This was heaven.

After riffing for a few minutes, Marley began to work through the band’s normal setlist, humming the melody to herself as she played. Her body went into auto-pilot, playing the songs as if it was second nature. She then shifted focus to one of the songs they would be playing for the first time that night. It was a little slower in the beginning, but towards the end of the song, she could absolutely lose control.

Marley repeated the new song a few more times before being satisfied. She checked the time and cursed under her breath. She had been practicing longer than she wanted to and now she was barely going to have enough time to grab food before heading to the bar.

Marley tucked her drumsticks into her boot, grabbed her phone and bag, and rushed out the door. After stopping at the deli for a sandwich and a coffee to go, she made her way to the bus stop. As she went to sit down on the bench, suddenly a guy on a bicycle appeared and nearly hit her.

“FUCK!” she shouted, dodging out of the way, spilling some coffee on her t-shirt in the process.

“Sorry!” the guy shouted back at her.

Marley rolled her eyes. Asshole. She dug through her food bag to try to find a napkin to clean herself off but came up empty. She searched her purse, hoping to find a tissue or something. Nothing. As a last resort, she reached into her pants pockets, her fingers closing around something. She pulled it out in confusion. It was indeed a napkin, with something scribbled on it.

Joe (random guy) 555-401-3734

The memory came flooding back to her. Joe. The guy who kept staring at her last week during her set.

Marley smiled at the memory. The guy was kind of cute. She couldn’t help but meet his gaze every once in a while during the set. She had never seen someone watch her perform with as much intensity as he watched her. She felt like he was staring into her soul.

And then when he attempted to flirt with her, she determined he was harmless. He challenged her but didn’t come off as an asshole. She thought about the moment he scribbled his number on the napkin and slid it towards her.

In case you want to banter with me again.

Marley had all but forgotten about the exchange until she rediscovered the cocktail napkin. But she was curious about the guy. It wasn’t every day that a guy casually asked her opinions on Hamlet while drinking in a dive bar. She pulled out her phone, opened a new text, and was just about to enter Joe’s number when the bus pulled up.

And just like that, the thought was gone. She hopped on, using the napkin to dab at the wet spot on her shirt before shoving the napkin into her purse and putting on her headphones.

Twenty minutes later, the bus pulled up to the stop right in front of Sullivan Street. Marley finished scarfing down her sandwich as she pulled the bar door open and headed up the stairs.

Marley spotted Gwil behind the bar with his back turned, completely focused on whatever he was doing. She snuck up to the bar and suddenly slammed both palms on the counter, her usual greeting.

“GWIL!”

“FUCK!” Gwil spun around and threw a hand over his heart. “Marley. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Of course not. Who will put up will my bullshit if you keel over and die?” she replied, plopping down on one of the stools.

“Absolutely no one. I barely put up with it myself,” the tall man replied before turning back to his task.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite English bartender.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only English bartender you know.”

“You and your logic.”

Gwil turned back to Marley and sighed, shaking his head lovingly. He grabbed two glasses and filled each with beer before handing one to Marley and clinking his own with hers. After taking a sip, he cocked his head to the side, eyeing the woman in front of him.

“Nice hickey,” he commented, nodding towards her. Marley threw her head back with a laugh.

“Thanks for reminding me,” she answered before pulling some concealer and a compact mirror out of her purse.

“Who was the lucky guy this time?” Gwil asked, grabbing a towel to wipe down his station. Marley rolled her eyes. Typical. Gwil was always way too curious about her personal life.

“Some guy from the club last night. Honestly, I don’t even remember his name,” Marley replied as she dabbed concealer on the purple mark.

“Classy,” Gwil countered, taking a sip of his beer. “How did you kick him out?” Marley rolled her eyes.

“Oh please, I never bring guys back to my place.”

“Ah, so you screw them and escape while they’re still asleep. Even classier.”

“Hey, at least I’m not celibate!” Marley challenged, nodding towards the bartender.

“I’m not celibate.”

“Come on, when was the last time you got laid?”

Gwil’s eyes dropped to the floor as he pondered the question. He gave a simple shrug, causing Marley to facepalm.

“You know you could get literally any girl that comes into this bar, right? I mean, look at ya!” Marley gestured towards him. She had always considered Gwil attractive. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him in that way. But the fact that he was essentially her coworker marked him as a huge no-no.

Gwil blushed at the comment. He paused for a moment before responding.

“Not any girl,” he finally said, looking right into Marley’s eyes. Marley swore she heard a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Eh, fine. But the amount of women who bat their eyelashes at you while you make them drinks tells me you have a rather large selection,” Marley added with a smirk before finishing off her beer and hopping off her stool, leaving Gwil to finish his prep.

As she got settled behind her kit, the other members of Parkway Diner began to trickle in. Tony arrived first, chatting away on the phone with his wife while he started to unpack his bass. Next was the ever quiet Eddie, who greeted the other two with a quick nod before taking his place behind his keyboard and warming up his fingers with some exercises. And finally, Jack, clad in a denim jacket and sunglasses, leisurely strolled in with a cigarette between his lips.

Marley and her bandmates knocked out some quick warmups before rehearsing the two new songs they were adding to the set that night. Soon enough it was time for the doors to open to the public. The members of Parkway Diner each ordered another drink from Gwil and took their normal spot at the high top table closest to the stage. They made idle chit chat as bar patrons slowly filled the upper floor. Marley scanned the room as she always did, scoping out the crowd for a potential mate for after-work mischief. She spotted a few candidates, filing them away for after the band’s first set.

Finally, the time had come for the band’s first set and Marley breathed out a sigh of relief, wanting nothing more than to retreat to her home behind the drum kit. Marley and the boys took to the stage, Jack taking his place at the front microphone.

“In case you’re new here, we’re Parkway Diner. Hope you enjoy,” he said, giving Marley the signal to begin. She started the slow drumbeat of the newest song in the band’s repertoire, the three other members of the band coming in with their own sound before Marley leaned into her mic.

You make me weak, I wanna die Just when you said we'd try Loving, touching, squeezing each other When I'm alone all by myself You're out with someone else Loving, touching, squeezing each other

You're tearing me apart Every, every day You're tearing me apart Oh, what can I say? You're tearing me apart

The lyrics struck a little too close to home to Marley. She felt each word as it left her lips. Memories flooded her vision. She gripped her drumsticks tightly and took out her feelings on the drums in front of her.

It won't be long, yes, 'til you're alone When your lover, oh, he hasn't come home 'Cause he's loving, ooh, he's touching He's squeezing another

He's tearing you apart Ooh, every, every day He's tearing you apart Oh, girl, what can you say? Cause he's loving, touching another Now it's your turn, girl, to cry

Marley began the first set of “nah’s” on her own, her bandmates joining in on the second set. She allowed herself to look out into the crowd, gauging their response to the new addition to the setlist. She smiled as her eyes passed over a mob of already drunken bar-goers, swaying and singing along. Towards the back of the room, a familiar head of auburn hair caught her attention.

No fucking way.

Joe sat at the bar, eyes trained directly on Marley, nodding along to the beat with a beer in hand. She recognized the blonde guy next to him; Gwil’s friend whose name was escaping her. She made direct eye contact with Joe, arching an eyebrow. He raised his glass towards her before taking a sip of it. Marley shifted her focus back to finishing the song. Finally, the last round of “nah’s” rang out a cappella and the song was over.

The crowd cheered and clapped, but Marley couldn’t help but look back over at the two familiar men. The blonde was conversing with Gwil, but Joe still hadn’t broken his gaze on her. She was annoyed with how much this guy was distracting her. He took up her attention last week and here he was distracting her again. She couldn’t figure out what it was. Obviously, she thought he was attractive, but something about him intrigued her even more. She tried to shake it off as the band started the next song.

Throughout the first half of the night, Marley tried as hard as she could to ignore Joe. She tried to lose herself in each song and focus on her performance. The band finished the first half of their set, and Jack announced a quick break. Marley slowly made her way over to the bar, wanting to make sure she didn’t seem too eager to see the man perched on the stool.

Luckily, when she arrived, Joe and the blonde guy had struck up a conversation facing away from her, allowing Marley’s arrival to go unnoticed.

“Gwil?”

“Already got it,” the bartender replied, handing Marley her drink. The sound of her voice made Joe spin around to face her.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Joe commented, offering his glass towards her. Marley clinked her glass with his and took a sip before replying.

“Yeah it’s almost like I work here or something,” she replied with an arched eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

“We finished up exams today and I figured we could use a night out,” Joe countered while gesturing to the blonde next to him, who gave a quick wave. Right, he’s a professor. “Plus I like seventies music and cheap beer.” Marley nodded, narrowing her eyes.

“Fair enough. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t stalking me or something,” she challenged. Joe chuckled.

“Well I never got a text, so I figured I’d try to banter with you again in person. Besides, if I were stalking you, I’d be more subtle about it.”

“Yeah you’re not subtle at all, Joe,” Marley replied, smirking. Joe’s eyes sparkled and he smiled, and Marley couldn’t help but smile back. Damn that smile.

“You remembered my name,” he pointed out. Marley chuckled before taking a sip of her drink.

“Well I may be an asshole, but I’m not that big of an asshole.”

Marley felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Jack behind her.

“Band meeting real quick,” he said before disappearing again. Marley turned back to Joe with a sigh.

“Duty calls,” Marley said with a shrug before downing the rest of her drink. “See you around, professor.”

“Hope so.” Joe raised his beer towards her once again with a wink.

Marley pursed her lips and headed towards the rest of the band members, who were crowded around their high-top.

“Alright, what could possibly be so important that we need to have a meeting right now before we finish the set?” Marley asked incredulously, annoyed that she had to cut her conversation with Joe short.

“I don’t think we’re ready to do ‘Scenes.’ Eddie isn’t confident enough,” Jack answered curtly, his arms crossed.

“What the fuck are you talking about? He killed it during practice earlier!” Marley countered, nudging Eddie with her elbow. The quiet man flashed a small smile. “Come on, Jack. Pull the stick out of your ass for one night.”

Jack rolled his eyes at the comment and uncrossed his arms with a sigh.

“Fine, but if it goes poorly, I’m blaming it on you!”

“You always do,” Marley replied, patting him on the shoulder. The group headed towards the stage, sharing an anxious energy. They were premiering a song they had been practicing for weeks, one of the most difficult songs they’ve ever attempted.

Marley found herself excited as she took her usual place behind the drumset. She glanced over at Joe at the bar and suddenly felt a twinge of nerves. What the fuck. Marley never got nervous. But something about Joe made her want to impress him. She worried for a second if Jack was right. What if they weren’t ready to perform the song? What if they were about to make fools of themselves?

Marley was pulled from her stupor by Eddie’s piano melody, signaling the start of the song. She leaned into the mic and sang out the first verse of the iconic song.

A bottle of white, a bottle of red Perhaps a bottle of rose instead We'll get a table near the street In our old familiar place You and I, face to face A bottle of red, a bottle of white It all depends upon your appetite I'll meet you anytime you want In our Italian restaurant

Marley finally came in with a cymbal swell, with the normal sax part substituted by Jack on the guitar. Marley closed her eyes and lost herself in the musical interlude, bobbing her head to Jack’s melody. She sped up her drumming before coming in with the next verse.

Things are okay with me these days Got a good job, got a good office Got a new wife, got a new life, and the family's fine We lost touch long ago You lost weight, I did not know You could ever look so nice after so much time

Do you remember those days hanging out at the village green? Engineer boots, leather jackets, and tight blue jeans Drop a dime in the box play a song about New Orleans Cold beer, hot lights My sweet romantic teenage nights

Marley had forgotten all about Joe. She was completely wrapped up in her own musical world. She jammed with the rest of the band, each member feeling more and more confident as the song progressed. Then it was time for the moment Jack had been worried about. The drums, guitar, and bass cut out and it was just Eddie soloing on the keys. He nailed each riff with perfect precision, and Marley couldn’t help but smile. She felt a strong sense of pride, listening to the band perform her favorite song with such passion and perfection.

Marley and the rest of the band finally entered again, but they were almost completely drowned out by the roaring applause for Eddie’s solo. Marley shook her head lovingly as she began the next verse.

Brenda and Eddie were the popular steadies And the king and the queen of the prom Riding around with the car top down and the radio on Nobody looked any finer Or was more of a hit at the Parkway Diner We never knew we could want more than that out of life Surely Brenda and Eddie would always know how to survive Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh

Marley emphasized “Parkway Diner” with a wink, earning a rousing cheer from the audience.

Brenda and Eddie were still going steady in the summer of '75 When they decided the marriage would be at the end of July Everyone said they were crazy Brenda you know you're much too lazy Eddie could never afford to live that kind of life But there we were wavin' Brenda and Eddie goodbye Oh, oh, oh

They got an apartment with deep pile carpets And a couple of paintings from Sears A big waterbed that they bought with the bread They had saved for a couple of years They started to fight when the money got tight They just didn't count on the tears Oh, oh

Marley was in absolute bliss. She sang each note and beat each drum like it was the most important thing she could ever do. The crowd cheered and shouted, with some even singing along. Eddie tore it up on the keyboard as Jack expertly strummed each note of the sax solo on his guitar.

Well they lived for a while in a very nice style But it's always the same in the end They got a divorce as a matter of course And they parted the closest of friends Then the king and the queen went back to the green But you can never go back there again Oh, oh

Brenda and Eddie had had it already by the summer of '75 From the high to the low to the end of the show For the rest of their lives They couldn't go back to the greasers The best they could do was pick up the pieces We always knew they would both find a way to get by That's all I heard about Brenda and Eddie Can't tell you more ‘cause I told you already And here we are wavin' Brenda and Eddie goodbye Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh

The song’s tempo slowed again as it neared the final verse. Marley’s heart felt full, knowing that all the hard work they had been putting into practice was paying off. Eddie’s fingers tickled the keys with perfect accuracy, the melody ringing out over the crowded bar. Marley closed her eyes as she sang out the remaining lyrics.

A bottle of red, a bottle of white Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight I'll meet you anytime you want In our Italian Restaurant

As the band played the last musical interlude, Marley felt a stray tear roll down her face. Eddie’s last few notes rang out and the crowd went wild, shouting praise for the band’s performance. All the band members exchanged knowing looks with each other; they had absolutely nailed it.

Marley finally let her gaze drift towards the audience and her eyes centered on Joe, who was on his feet clapping and cheering. She felt a blush across her cheeks and ducked her head in embarrassment. It was not every day a guy made Marley blush.

The rest of the set went by in a blur, the band riding off the high of their successful performance of the new song. By the end of their final song, Marley was emotionally exhausted. She always tended to leave everything on the stage, but this was a new level for her. Her body hummed with pride and excitement as she hopped off the stage. She only knew one thing to be true: she needed a beer.

Marley made her way to the bar, weaving through the drunken bar-goers who showered her with praise and acknowledging them with a nod. She reached the bar to find the stools that Joe and the blonde had been occupying empty.

“Joe’s in the loo and Ben stepped out for a smoke,” Gwil said, grabbing Marley’s attention. She simply nodded and slid onto the other empty barstool. “And for the record, Joe really likes you.” Marley scrunched her face in confusion.

“He barely knows me,” she countered. Gwil set a beer down in front of Marley as if he had read her mind. “And how would you know?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s here again!”

“So?”

Gwil pinched the bridge of his nose before responding.

“You’re so fucking aggravating. He clearly likes you and you clearly like him, considering you haven’t told him to fuck off yet,” Gwil pointed out. Marley rolled her eyes. Why did Gwil always have to get involved? “At least take the time to get to know the guy more. And play nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marley asked, crossing her arms. Gwil sighed and ran a hand through his hair as if he was taking the time to choose his words carefully.

“Love,” he began, clearly using the pet name to ease her into whatever harsh thing he was about to say. “You do have a tendency to take your anger towards men from your past out on men in your present,” he said, before turning his attention to a bachelorette party at the other end of the bar. Marley pursed her lips, attempting to come up with a witty comeback, but came up short. She shook her head and scoffed at Gwil’s words. Who the fuck was he to tell her what to do when it came to her personal life? Marley swirled the beer around her glass, annoyed at how quickly Gwil soured her good mood.

“Well don’t you seem chipper?” Joe commented as he sat back down on his barstool. Marley felt immediately calmed by his presence. “Still mad at the world as usual?”

“I am not mad at the world,” Marley responded defensively. “I just tend to be extremely cynical about everything and everyone, that’s all.” Joe chuckled, and Marley felt a sting of pride for her little joke.

“And how did someone so young become such a pessimist already?” he asked. Normally Marley would scoff at the personal question and his jab at her age. But she found herself oddly comfortable with the man beside her.

“Oh you know, the usual. Used and abused. A man done me wrong. And then another one. And then another one,” Marley replied casually, eyes focused on her glass so she could avoid Joe’s stare. “You’d think I would have learned after round one.” Marley snuck a glance at Joe, who’s playful expression had changed to one of concern. “Your pity is unwanted, professor.”

“Sorry. It’s just unfair that you’ve had to deal with all of that. You deserve better,” Joe offered. Marley was thrown by the statement.

“And how would you know what I deserve? You don’t even know me,” she countered, trying to play it off. Joe paused for a moment before smiling.

“Well, I sure would like to.”

Marley turned to meet Joe’s gaze. A warmth came to her cheeks and she finally took a moment to really look at him. His hazel eyes were soft as he searched hers for a response. He had a bit more scruff decorating his jaw than the week before. Marley looked down at her lap in embarrassment. She hated that this guy was making her feel this way; almost giddy. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and she internally chastised herself. Get a grip.

“So theatre, huh?” Marley asked, eager to change the subject to something other than herself. Joe chuckled, seeing right through her attempt, but obliging anyway.

“Yeah, it’s just something I’ve always enjoyed. Nothing quite like performing in front of a live audience. I’m sure you can understand that,” he offered. Marley simply nodded, so Joe continued. “And I just love telling stories. Plus now I get to share my passion with students and get paid for it.”

“Sounds like a pretty good gig.”

“It is.” He paused and took a sip of his beer. “What about you? How does one become the lead singer slash drummer of a seventies cover band?” There it was. Another question about herself. Marley instinctively hesitated, trying to come up with a clever retort. But nothing came.

“Music is the only thing that has ever made sense to me. And I had the privilege of being properly educated on the classics when I was a kid.” Marley stopped for a moment before sighing. “They really don’t make musicians like they used to. Or songs for that matter.” Marley took a sip of her drink, shaking her head. She glanced at Joe, who was eyeing her with an intense gaze. Marley raised her eyebrow, daring the man in front of her to reveal what he was thinking.

“You’re a pretty fascinating person, Marley,” Joe finally blurted out. Marley nearly spat out her drink laughing.

“I am?” she questioned, entertained by Joe’s statement. Marley had been called lots of things over the years, but ‘fascinating’ was not one of them. She worked, she ate, she slept, and rarely did anything else. What about that could be fascinating?

“Yeah. I mean I can see it when you’re up there. You have so much passion and love for music. You lose yourself in every performance and it’s almost addicting to watch.” Marley found herself staring dumbfounded at the man as he spoke. “And then you get off that stage and you put up this wall. Life and everyone in it become an inconvenience. It’s...beautifully tragic.”

Marley knew she should be offended by his words. In fact, she should probably slap him. Who the fuck was he to analyze her like that? But instead, she found herself smiling.

“I mean, that’s life, isn’t it? Beautifully tragic,” she replied with a shrug.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Joe argued.

“What do you mean?” Marley asked almost incredulously.

“I mean if you find something you love to do and you surround yourself with people who love you, I think life can be beautiful, period. Without the tragedy.”

Marley smiled and sighed at his words, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes. She almost admired his naivety. She wished she could see the world through his eyes. She even felt a pang of jealousy; he obviously had never been hurt as she had been.

“If only it were that easy.”

An awkward silence followed. Marley knew it was her fault. Maybe she’d done it on purpose. Easier than opening up to him even more. Marley downed the rest of her beer. After a few moments, the man finally spoke up again.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”

Marley instinctively cringed at the question, her heart thumping out of her chest. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the movement, but when she met his gaze again, there was a look of defeat on his face, as if he already knew the answer.

The impulsive side of her wanted to say yes, to say “fuck it” and throw caution to the wind. She wanted to pretend that the world was good and that everything would work out in the end.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Marley finally answered.

“Why not?” Joe asked, a bit of hurt in his voice. Marley turned herself to face the man, hoping to let him down easy. As cliche as it was, it wasn’t him. It was all her.

“Because I know how this song goes, Joe,” Marley said with an exasperated sigh. “In your head, I’m this manic pixie dream girl who’s ‘not like the others.’ But then you get to know me, and you find out that I’m uninteresting as fuck and emotionally unavailable, and you get bored and I come home to you and stick-thin blonde in our bed.”

Joe’s jaw dropped and his brows furrowed in concern.

“Marley, I--”

“It’s okay, Joe. Like I said, I don’t need your pity,” Marley rambled, the words flying out of her in a panic. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. We can be friends. I like you too much to date you.” She was on a roll, not letting Joe get a word in. She needed to escape before Joe said something charming that would cause her to give in and change her mind. She slid off her barstool and started to walk away.

“Wait--”

“I’ll see you around, Joe,” Marley called out behind her before heading through the door next to the stage, leaving a dumbfounded Joe behind. She closed the door behind her and threw on the light in the storage-room-turned-band-lounge. She sank onto the small couch that was shoved into the corner and finally let out the breath she had been holding.

Marley tried not to picture the upset look on Joe’s face as she had walked away from him. She ran her hands through her hair, stressed at the situation she found herself in.

She wasn’t lying, she did like Joe. He was charming, funny, and definitely easy on the eyes. He wasn’t an asshole, which was a refreshing change of pace. He challenged her, and she could tell just with the few interactions they’d had that she would get along well with him. But Marley had learned that if she wanted to keep people around, she needed to keep them at a bit of a distance. Gwil was a prime example of that. Marley had wanted to jump his bones when she first met him. But as she got to know him, she realized that he was a great guy and that hooking up with him or starting a relationship was the wrong move. She just didn’t want to lose any more people.

Marley threw herself face down on the couch with a groan, replaying the night’s events in her head. A knock on the door shook her from her stupor.

“Mar? It’s just me,” Gwil timidly spoke on the other side of the door. “Can I come in?” Marley groaned again in response. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

Gwil gently opened the door and peeked in. Marley barely moved a muscle. She knew exactly why he was there. There was no doubt he had overheard the exchange between her and Joe.

“Mar.”

“What?” Marley’s voice was muffled by the couch cushion.

“Stop being a pain in the ass for like one second so I can talk to you.”

With another groan, Marley shifted to sit up, allowing Gwil to squeeze in next to her.

“I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but I think you’re being dumb about this Joe thing,” Gwil revealed. Marley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Classic Gwil.

“Gwil--”

“Shut up and let me finish. I can tell you like him. He obviously likes you. You’re just scared,” he continued. Marley glared at the bartender. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She always hated when Gwil got preachy with her.

“I’m just being realistic. We’d be better as friends,” Marley replied curtly. “I don’t need your meddling, Gwilym.” Marley grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.” She squeezed her way past Gwil and pushed the door open.

“I just think you’re cutting yourself off from something good!” Gwil shouted after her, but Marley didn’t stop. She made her way through the bar, down the stairs, and out the door into the heat of the summer.

-

Taglist: @hellysthings, @queenspur, @briarrose26

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x oc #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello imagine #joemazzmatazz #ben hardy #gwilym lee

[fanficmoi]

The Fool By The Seaside Chp.7

“Do you enjoy working at library?”

Paul hummed, he was laying with his head on John’s tail, the merman decorating his hair with pearls and small shells. “I don’t mind it, y’know. My friend George works there, he’s a crackerbox.” He shrugged, “The pay is good, and my boss is nice.”

John tilted his head, his hair was still keeping his hair short, since he still felt the sadness and guilt over Ridire’s death. “Boss?”

Paul closed his eyes, the feeling of his boyfriend’s (Merboyfriend? Merlover?) fingers caressing his hair making him feel drowsy, “Yeah, y’know. The person is charge, tells me what to do, makes sure I get the money.”

John nodded, chuckling at his human’s sleepy tone. He curled himself up so that Paul’s head was still resting on his tail, but John’s head was resting on the human’s chest. He caressed the guitarist’s chest with a sharp but gentle nail, “Sleep,” He told him. “I will wake you up in thirty minutes, yes?”

Paul only snored in response, and John giggled in amusement. He kept an eye on the beach, not wanting to be surprised by some human. Paul had told him that nobody visited this part of the coast, it was far from the port and beach days weren’t really a thing with all the shit weather. But still, John was cautious. And he wouldn’t dare fall asleep on the beach again, the last time hadn’t gone so well.

Instead, he wondered about the future. He was with Paul now, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that they were from different worlds. Paul would have to move on someday, John knew. Get a human mate, have offspring, offspring with legs. John couldn’t give him that, he knew. But there was a little bitty bitty small problem, John was falling in love with his human.

John swam into his home with a sackful of shells, he’d gotten lucky today, finding a spot full of large, shiny (empty) shells. “‘ello, Mimi!” He shouted, putting his sack on the dining stone. “I’m back.”

There was no answer. John frowned, his aunt was usually right in his face whenever he came home. He swam to the kitchen, nope. To her chamber, nope. To his chamber, nope. He searched the whole cave, and found nothing. The he heard a familiar voice calling his name and he hurried to the entrance. “Cyn?” He asked, he tilted his head, “Where’s Mimi?”

Cyn grasped his forearms, she looked terribly distraught, “Oh, John! They just came out of nowhere, we were having lunch and they just-”

“Who’s they!?” John was getting upset too, where was his auntin?

Stu appeared behind her and it was then that John noticed that a crowd of curious sea creatures was forming around them. Stu said, “The police came, John. Took your auntin, said she was under arrest.” He looked forlorn.

John’s breath caught, then it began to speed up. Soon his gills were shaking and his chest was rapidly moving up and down. “How, how did this happen? She’s never done anything!” He could see that the people around him were starting to feel the effects of his panic, their own breathing erratic. But he could hardly concentrate on that now.

Stu and Cyn were quick to grab him and move him to the inside of his home. “John,” Cyn was saying, “You’ve to calm down.”

John just shook his head, he hated police. They always got in the way of his fun, hurt his friends, and now they had arrested his auntin!? The woman was practically a saint, she never broke a law in her life!

Stu’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “You gotta go to the headquarters and talk to them, see if you can pay her bail. It was probably a rumour or some shit like that, my Athair was arrested over that and he’s all good now, isn’t he?”

Cyn didn’t mention that the guards had been unfamiliar, unlike the usual ones from the headquarters that everyone knew. They had also worn different uniforms, and had been more aggressive. But for all she knew they had just gotten new uniforms, or something harmless like that that John didn’t have to worry about.

Paul sighed to himself as he stood outside his brother’s room. “Mikey?” He asked as he knocked, “I really want to talk to you.” Michael had been ignoring him for days now, and Paul could hardly blame him. The older one had been horrible, scaring his little brother. While he was with John all those thoughts flew away, but he couldn’t ignore them while at home. His dad had noticed something was off between the two brothers, but being busy with work was unable to address the topic. So it was up to Paul.

“I am really sorry, Mike.” He said, “I don’t know what came over me and I know I keep saying this but it's the truth.” He knocked again. “John said he’d help-” He broke off at the sound of something heavy hitting the door, probably a book or a shoe. “Mike?” At least he’d gotten a reaction. He knocked rapidly, “Michael, please. I’m trying to fix this.”

There was silence, then the door was unlocked.

Paul smiled and opened the door, “Mike?”

His brother was sitting in his bed, glaring at him.

Paul’s smile fell as he sat down next to him, but he was relieved that his brother didn’t push him away. “Mike, I know I sound like a broken record but I am sorry.”

His brother nodded, expressionless. “You do know he’s causing this, right?”

Paul frowned, “Who?”

Mike scoffed, “Your John. He’s the one making you act like this.”

It was Paul’s turn to scoff, “Of course not, Michael. Why would you say that?”

His brother rolled his eyes, “Because you only get like that whenever I insult him or whatever, you get protective and horrible. That creature made you like that.”

Paul scowled, “Now, Mike, I know you don’t like him-”

Mike stood, “For god’s sakes, Paul! It’s not that! It’s just that it’s obvious.”

Paul stood up as well, “John wouldn’t do that.”

Mike stepped forwards, “How would you know? You know all their stories, sirens are manipulative, cruel-”

“First of all, John’s not a siren. He’s just a regular Merrow.” Paul was trying to control his temper, “And second, I trust him.”

Mike glared, “Why trust him over me? Your brother?”

Paul sighed, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that you barely know him, Mike.”

His brother sat down again, “And I don’t wanna know him,” He huffed, “I don’t get why he got so upset when I touched him, it’s just a body part.”

Paul glared, “A very sensitive body part, Michael. Private.”

Mike chuckled, “And I bet he lets you all over it.”

Paul didn’t answer and his brother laughed. “He does, doesn’t he? That’s why you like him, you like his tail.”

“Of course not!” Paul shouted, “That’s the least of it, but yes it’s a sign of trust, that’s why I trust him.”

Michael just shook his head, “Fuck, you’re hopeless, Paul. That thing’s got you good.”

Paul knew that if he stayed he would lose it again, so he just turned around and slammed the door as he left.

His little brother was left with an angry, worried mind.

“What do you mean, I can’t see her!?” John shouted at the poor merman behind the counter.

“I, I’m sorry, gentlemerrow. The royal guards have prohibited.” The attendant tried to explain, there was something extremely powerful about the angry being before him.

John heard Cyn and Stu gasp behind him, “Royal guards? From Atlantis?” He frowned, “What were the charges?”

The attendant cowered, “It’s really not my place to say-”

John leaned forwards, his teeth barred and his pupils looking like slits. “What. Were. The. Charges?” He pronounced in a quiet, dangerous voice.

Stu and Cyn winced, as this everyone else in the vicinity. This was a rare John, he was angry and actually meant it. John was afraid of anger in others, but he himself had quite the tempers. And both his bark and his bite were very sharp.

The merman behind the counter shivered, he grabbed a file that was at the top of a pile and opened its stone flaps. He cleared his throat, “The Merrow known as Mahry Elishabet Smeed was arrested by the Royal Guard of Atlantis with direct orders from the Royal Palace on charges of…” The man frowned and then gaped up at John.

John sneered at him, “What charges?”

The other’s head tilted, “What did you say was your relation to the prisoner?”

As his friends frowned, John’s glare deepened, “She’s my auntin, and don’t you dare call her a prisoner!”

The attendant’s gape became wider.

John grabbed him by the forearms, ignoring his friends’ protests, “What are the fucking charges?”

The other just looked at him in awe, but then finally spoke. “She was arrested for harboring a siren in her home.”

Paul had returned to the beach, guitar in hand. It was nighttime but he didn’t mind if he couldn’t see John, he just needed space.

He stared at the stars above him, they were beautiful. Almost as beautiful as John. You couldn’t see the stars from the city, too smokey, but here in his beach, he could see it all.

He sighed, could Mike be right? Was John controlling his feelings? It made little sense, John had been surprised by his outburst too.

He grabbed his guitar and began to pluck a gentle melody he and George had been working on. They had wanted to be in a band, but two was hardly enough. And neither of them could play drums.

Suddenly the water splashed, “PAUL!” A familiar voice screeched.

“John!?” Paul tossed his guitar aside and jumped up. He spotted his merman a bit further away, seemingly unable to get out of the water.

“Paul! Help me!” John screamed, his voice panicked.

Paul ran into the water, seeing John barely able to move. His lover stretched out his arms, crying for help. Paul finally reached him, slipping along the way. He grabbed the wet arms and pulled. John launched himself at him, holding him with all his strength and that’s when Paul saw what was holding him down, were those eels?? They were wrapped all over John’s tail and lower torso, and they appeared to be electrocuting him. Paul pulled harder.

John was sobbing, frantically flipping his tail hoping that the eels would be thrown away but they held on strongly. At least they were getting closer to the beach.

Paul kicking at the creatures as well, ignoring the fact that they could hurt him. His only concern was John. Finally, they got to the surface and Paul dragged his lover far away from the water.

The eels screeched and let go but Paul kept dragging the heavy weight of John until he tripped over a rock and the two of them fell down.

In no time John was hugging him, shaking and sobbing. Paul was confused but put his arms around the merman and whispered assurances in his ear.

“Johnny, what’s wrong?” Paul asked. Then he noticed that his lover was shivering, so he started to rub his arms with his pals. But he was even more worried, the cold temperature had never affected John before.

But before the human could comment on it, something even more strange started to happen.

John’s tail was looking burnt and bloody before, but now it appeared to be almost melting in a way. The scales were falling away, some of them just disappearing, his fins falling away as well.

Paul looked away only to find a distraught but quiet John looking back at him. The human frowned, “John, what’s going on?”

The other just shook his head and looked down, “I am sorry, Paul.” He choked, “I didn’t know.”

Paul’s answer was interrupted by the sight he witnessed as he looked briefly back at the tail. He was speechless. For the silver-blue tail was gone, and its place were two pale, very much human, legs.

#beatles #mclennon #my fic #fanfic #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney