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svchengss · 3 years

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king of hearts | d.sc

PAIRING. dong sicheng x reader

GENRE. high school!au, fluff, slight angst, kind of e2l

WARNINGS. none (lmk if i missed any!)

WORD COUNT. 6.7k

SUMMARY. sicheng’s subtle flirts are not working effectively but it only motivates him to try and woo you more. the devil sure works hard but dong sicheng works harder.

PLAYLIST. king of hearts

TAGLIST. @floraljae @clovdless @mashiihearts @ndr1271 @kunrengui (shoutout to mashi for being a major help in the process of writing this <3)

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

music was blaring through the multiple loudspeakers scattered around the school grounds, booths of various interests that were set-up by the clubs being swarmed by visitors and ecstatic oohs and aahs from the ones playing games can be heard intermittently. the annual school festival of redlands high, an event that is looked forward to by every single student there. or maybe not, you’re quite unsure of the self-made data.

you immediately made a beeline to the dance club booth which is managed by yangyang, the president also holding the title of your best friend. a cartoonish grin crept up on his face when he spots you walking towards him.

“so, what do you think? looks legit, huh?” he crossed his arms together, observing the design of the booth with a proud smile. the set-up is definitely eye-catching, not much decorations going on, adding to the simplicity of the white theme with gold touch-ups. you browsed through the plastered posters on the board, inviting people to sign up for their upcoming audition. looking up to the signboard hanging outside, you showed a thumbs up towards him, muttering a quick ‘perfect’.

“so what exactly is your booth doing? there’s not much… activity going on?” you scratched the non-existent itch on your left eyebrow. the boy in front of you gave you an eye roll before explaining that there will be mini dance games - or just dance as he worded. an amused sound left your lips as you bent down, dropping your signature in the guestbook on the wooden table.

“are you coming to the stage shows tonight? i heard there’s a new band performing,” your ears perked up instinctively upon hearing the words. after your sister graduated high school, nobody paid any attention to keep the band going. the zikas, a trio that made the music club strive back then. either the newer batches were too lazy to make an effort or too scared if they weren’t up to the already high standards of the school.

“i’m going if you’re going,” you simply stated, which made yangyang flash you the same grin from before. you said your simple goodbyes when people started lining up to try the just dance game at his booth. after he reminded you to wait for him by the statue, you went off to check out the food sales, eager to fill your growling stomach since this morning.

you can do this, sicheng. you can do this.

he made sure to double check the tuning of his guitar for one last time before joining the rest of his bandmates on the stage. his tall and slim physique surely left an impact, seeing that some of the audience suddenly became more invested in the performance compared to the others. he’s wearing some band’s shirt - probably green day since it’s quite similar to your sister’s posters in her room, black leather jacket and his black hair middle parted. not to miss the silver pendant necklace on his neck, sparkling under the spotlight.

the moment he struck the pick through the strings of his electric guitar, the drummer and bassist followed after, producing a melody that is pleasing to your ears. he held the microphone closer to his mouth, singing the lyrics as you bobbed your head up and down to the covers they sang - american idiot and helena are the ones you recognized since you’ve heard the songs so often. yangyang on the other hand kept on sipping the chocolate milkshake in his hand, vibing with the music as well.

the next song was a sentimental one which you assumed is a self-composed one, since you’ve never heard this song before. before you know it, the performance is over and the audience have started packing up their belongings to hang out somewhere else or go home.

“good job everyone, we did well,” yuta, who played the bass earlier, high-fived the rest of the band with a sly grin on his face. guanheng chugged the mineral water down his throat before stashing his drumsticks into the bag while sicheng was lost in his thoughts. he doesn’t know why but you stood out from the crowd, only able to see you just now. he wouldn’t say it’s a crush, not knowing anything about you but it definitely made him feel something. a trigger in his heart, not knowing where it leads to. but what he does know is that you caught his attention.

“and you know what he said? i’ll come back crawling to him just like his other exes. what the heck is even that?” you took out the binders from your locker while listening to ningning rant about her love life. since you haven’t had any relationships before, you’re not really a professional in this aspect of life so you just kept your mouth shut to avoid giving useless advice.

“that sounds so rude, he’s such a jerk,” you commented, taking the first bite of your sandwich afterwards. the tea-spilling session eventually came to an end when she reached her class first and you kept walking to mrs. walker’s, english being your first period. nothing exciting really happened in that class except someone got their phone confiscated for texting in class - just the usual things. classes later, it’s finally recess when you met up with ningning and yangyang in the cafeteria.

“first of all, cut him off. block him. everywhere,” yangyang emphasized the last word, knowing how much of an idiot the guy can be. you just scrolled through your socials, double tapping on certain posts that caught your eye. owning a cat looks fun, you made a mental note to bring the idea to your parents later. the bell rang which signals that classes are starting back soon and the same cycle of events continues before it’s time to go home.

you observed yangyang’s sharp moves, following to the beat of the song echoing in the dance room. it’s currently half past seven and he’s still here, beads of sweat running through his hair. and why would he stay in school so late, you may ask? obviously, he’s here for a reason and it being an upcoming dance tournament is the most accurate one. while you’re here, sitting on the floor, back against the mirror and legs straightened out with your phone in your hand. it amazes you how the goofy boy transforms 360°, being all serious when he’s in his element.

“let’s go home, i’m tired already,” he panted out breathlessly, using a cloth nearby to wipe his sweaty forehead. you wait for him by the glass door as he packs up his things when the lights in the music studio also switched off. you wondered it must be the band guys so you paid no attention whatsoever. of course, your predictions were right when you saw two lads stepping out.

since yangyang is taking too much time tidying up the dance studio and the music studio seems unoccupied, you decided to check it out for a bit. it’s been a long time since you last entered the room, always accompanying your sister for her extra practice when you were younger. not much has changed, except some additions of instruments can be seen. not seeing anything in the dark condition as the room is only illuminated by the faint lights from the hallway, you pushed the switches down only to be met by a gasp.

“what are you doing here?” the tall boy approached you, a stern look visible on his fine features. your eyes scrambled around the room in an attempt to find any logical excuses for your ‘break-in’ but to no avail. your tongue was dry, not a sound escaping your throat when you heard yangyang’s voice, signalling your cue to exit the room and escape from the tension building between you and the boy. he just shook his head, the black hair bouncing left to right as he finally caught on.

it’s you, you’re the girl from the crowd. and your name is y/n.

the walk home was filled with one-sided conversations where yangyang kept on babbling about how he should improve the choreography he created earlier while you only added small comments. your mind is filled with embarrassment, too much that you feel slightly mad at yourself. why didn’t you say anything earlier? now, you look like a complete idiot with communication issues in front of that boy.

“yeah, and remember that pasta? we should definitely try it again, it’s like, so good,” yangyang said, earning a nod from you when you saw the boy from last night’s music studio tragedy approaching your table. you tried to look away but it was too late.

“dude, just wanna let you know that mr. park is seeing us after school,” your grip on your fork loosens up when you realized he wasn’t talking to you. maybe he forgot about the incident? you really hope so.

“yeah, totally. thanks sicheng,” yangyang playfully winked at the latter, earning a disgusted look from him who started walking away. he glanced back at you with a smug smile on his plump lips, making you freeze up again.

he didn’t.

“are you okay, y/n? feeling sick?” ningning furrowed her eyebrows upon seeing your sudden change of demeanor. you shrugged her off and continued to consume the macaroni placed on the tray in front of you, mentally cursing at yourself for the poor life choice you’d made. well, at least you know that his name is sicheng, right?

oh boy, you’re in for a long ride.

you can’t wait to go home and snuggle under the covers, today has been a long and tiring one for you. you had three pop quizzes as if all the three teachers intended so, your class had to run multiple laps during p.e. and so on. you’re already planning your routine in your head, trudging your way to the lockers when you saw him leaning against yours, scrolling down his phone.

“crap,” you muttered under your breath.

there it is, the smirk on his face returns when he spots your figure approaching. oh, how you wish you could wipe it off his face. he moved a couple steps backwards to give you some space to arrange your things before locking it, turning your head towards him.

“i’m sorry, why are you here again? and if it’s because of last night, then i’m sorry if it bothered you or anything,” you huffed out.

“what? i didn’t really care, it’s not like you were stealing anything, right?” he squinted his eyes, eyeing you up and down suspiciously, laughing shortly after seeing you get riled up.

“damn, you really need to learn how to take a joke. y/n, right? i’m sicheng, nice to meet you.”

“why exactly are we having this meet-and-greet or whatever this introduction is?” you crossed your arms, waiting for his response. but he didn’t, immediately turning on his heels and making his way towards the stairs, probably going to the studio.

“jerk,” you cursed under your breath, walking out the school building.

“what? you got accepted? seriously?” ningning’s voice echoed against the cafeteria walls, earning surprised and annoyed glances from other students who were either satisfying their grumbling stomach or simply having conversations. yangyang softly nudged her elbows using his, asking her to lower her voice down before telling you to go on. you were quite surprised as well, the acceptance email was not what you expected to receive. when you filled in the application form, it was just a mere shoot-your-shot agenda to see if you’d make the cut. although this is just a camp, you’re still unsure of what lies ahead.

“yeah, it starts next week. but i’m so nervous though,” you sipped the iced coffee in your hands. you’ve only watched videos of people producing their own music from scratch which you start to take an interest in. however, you’ve never done it hands-on before, only having basic music theory knowledge thanks to the piano lessons your parents signed you up for when you were young.

“you’ll do awesome, i promise,” yangyang gave you a reassuring smile, making you release some tension from the overthinking you’ve had since you received the email last night.

“thanks yang.”

now, here you are on the first day of attending the internship camp. you stood in front of the tall mirror hanging on the wall, straightening your cardigan and applying some makeup onto your face as touch-ups. it’s currently 7:40 in the morning, the earliest time you’ve ever woken up on a saturday. your siblings are still swallowed in their states of sleep. you double-checked the contents in your tote bag, making sure that no important things are left behind. you totally don’t intend on leaving a bad first impression on your first day.

after bidding a swift goodbye to your parents who just woke up, you drove your mother’s old honda to the completely new destination - mbyte studios. the tall building with light grey and blue painted walls definitely made it stand out, a futuristic look catching the eyes of the passersby. taking a deep breath, you entered the main lobby before being escorted to a room on the second floor. you assume it’s a waiting room for all participants of the camp, scanning that majority of the occupiers might be college students. you thanked god that the camp takes place on weekends so your high school senior life won’t be interrupted that much.

DAY 1

your eyes widened when you spot sicheng with the same white and blue tag you’re wearing, seated on the sofa. what the hell is he doing here? you avoided acknowledging his presence, trying to make yourself as unnoticed as possible heading over to occupy the seat farthest from his. after quite some time staring at the paintings hanging on the wall, a middle-aged lady with a petite figure entered the room, making you sit up straight.

“welcome to mbyte studios! i’m the assistant director, mrs. hwang. first and foremost, congratulations on being accepted. it’ a pleasure to witness the start of your musical journey embarking here. i believe that we should know each other first?” she gestured for any volunteers. sicheng stood up from his seat, charisma evident in his stance which left quite an impression on the others. the strong confidence in the way he speaks made the woman smile amusingly.

some names later, it was your turn to introduce yourself. the moment you stood up, he immediately recognized you and you were sure you caught him making some faces. the ice-breaking session went well thankfully, mrs. hwang elaborating on the social rules and the itinerary throughout the whole six days. one that caught your attention was assisting the producers on making a track from scratch, just like you had dreamed of.

when it was finally time for lunch break, you shot up from your seat to get away from sicheng as fast as possible but to your dismay, he beat you to it, jogging up towards your standing position.

“i didn’t know you were into music, what’s the sudden occasion?”

“it’s none of your business actually,” you sneered back, obviously not favouring his attention.

“woah, relax. you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? by the way, we’re having lunch together,” he placed his phone onto a nearby table, pulling a chair for you.

“just eat on your own, i don’t have the appetite,” you flash a sarcastic grin before disappearing into the women’s restroom. he just laughed bitterly at your response before walking towards the food counter, joining his newly made friend, jaehyun. being the same age, they’re easy to click.

DAY 2

“today, we’ll be focusing on the recording process. you’ll be assigned into groups that will have a tour of the whole department. our staff will facilitate each group,” the manager said loud and clear. you remembered his name was johnny. the tattoo on his shoulder really stands out, considering the fact that he’s always wearing a sleeveless shirt.

but what are the odds when your groupmate is none other than the guy himself, sicheng. it’s like the universe truly resented you for having to be associated with him at any event. your group was escorted to the farthest recording studio on the floor. to say that this was a great experience is truly an understatement, making you observe the gears used in astonishment. you hate to admit it but sicheng has a handful of knowledge on this particular topic, always correctly answering the questions directed by the staff. maybe it wasn’t quite surprising upon knowing that his career choice is a singer, not that you care anyways.

again, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, except that you and sicheng had lunch on the same table. of course, it’s not that you accepted his offer but he welcomed himself to the spot. being the quickly favoured participant among the rest, obviously they welcomed him with open hands. he placed himself among the two guys sitting at the right corner, eyeing you whose eyes are still not leaving the article you were skimming through. with the last spoon of food shoved into your mouth, you quietly excused yourself from the group. sicheng just watched your movements in subtle signs of annoyance.

with the final task of doing microphone check-ups, day two of the camp ended with a breeze. you can’t wait to go home, get into a warm bath and spend the night watching netflix. it was a tiring one indeed but you’re not one to complain. pushing the car keys into the ignition slot, the sound of the engine starting is still nowhere to be heard even after a couple of retries. you rested your forehead onto the steering wheel, cursing silently in your head, having to get a taxi and call your mother about this incident. you’re sure to be receiving a handful from her, not to mention her soft but stingful remarks.

“hey, are you okay?” a deep voice interrupts your stressful state of mind. looking up, it’s sicheng with a concerned look on display. you hesitantly shared your problem, making him press his lips together probably thinking of a solution.

“you know, i don’t really know how to fix your broken engine or whatever but i know someone who can. let me just ring him for a sec. and you’re coming home with me.”

and that’s how you ended up in the front passenger seat, sicheng steering with one hand and the other rested on the windowsill. the faint music from the radio can be heard, probably a song by jon vinyl. you’d steal quick glances to see his other hand dancing in the air, enjoying the rhythm of the song playing. besides that, it was silent as both of you are preoccupied with your own things - sicheng on the road while you on your phone. he tried to make small talk but you would say it’s unrequited, only replying with short sentences. after a good ten minutes drive, the sight of your brown painted gate becomes a sign for him to stop the moving car.

“your car is safe with my friend so you shouldn’t worry about it or anything. also, what’s your number? it’ll be easier for, you know the car business of course,” he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt, handing over his phone to you after. the close proximity made your breath hitch, the dewy scent of his perfume diffusing into your nose. not too strong, he has a good taste.

“thanks and um, i’ll buy you a drink later. just for today.”

“are you asking me on a date?” there it is, the significant tug on the side of his lips making its presence once again.

“stop being so narcissistic and move along please,” you rolled your eyes before giving him a small wave, stepping into your property. sicheng stared at the numerals on his phone screen, a small, proud grin etched on before driving off the lane.

“how was the camp? met any cute boys?” the first thing you hear in the hue of the blue monday morning is ningning’s chirpy voice. sometimes you wonder how she gets all boosted up at this hour of the day. yangyang is the polar opposite, his appearance as if he just got out of bed, the hood of his denim jacket resting on top of his auburn hair.

“it was good and no, no cute boys. but sicheng was there,” you replied nonchalantly, a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. you can almost predict the words that are going to spill out of her mouth.

“what’s up with her?” yangyang yawned, his eyes lazily gaze at you. you just lifted your shoulders, having no idea whatsoever. a ping sound was heard from your phone, notifying that a new message is received.

unknown: hey sicheng here

unknown: ur car may be ready tmr. want me to drive u there?

listening to your heart, you were about to type ‘no’ but remembering the fact that your parents will be busy the whole day tomorrow and yangyang is coming home late once again, you have no choice but to accept the lad’s help.

now you’re back in his vehicle, the same spot as before. you’ve only noticed now that a musical note charm is hung on the rearview mirror, a semiquaver to be exact. you’d say that it looks authentic, gold specks shining when sun rays hit the surface. observing the interior of his car, there are quite a number of small decorations.

“can we get coffee first? my treat for the car and the ride,” you suggested, looking at him whose eyes are focused onto the road. the traffic is quite pleasing today, nobody honking mindlessly at the other drivers and flipping each other off with the famous middle finger gesture. his side profile does look charming, some type of earrings dangling from his ears. if you’re going to be honest, his appearance does seem to be your type. you’re not one to say about his persona though, always managing to bother you at any time of the day.

“sure, wanna go to the new cafe? i heard it’s good,”. you just nodded while he skillfully steered the steering wheel, moving the car to the new destination. you turned your eyes to look outside from the car window, seeing the one hundred and one manners of the citizens. a mother struggling to take her child who’s having a tantrum out of the toy shop, a young couple having their romantic meal in the french cafe. the motion of the car stopping awakened you who was being distracted by your clouded mind.

from the moment you stepped into the place, the interior caught your attention. the light brown painted walls with black furniture complementing each other perfectly, making a retro-like appearance. the funky song playing faintly in the background surely is a mood-setter, just how you like it. even the barista serving you is being friendly, making a couple of small talk in the midst of operating the machines.

you would say that it was a pleasureful day for you. the exquisite taste of latte washing down your dry throat, getting your car back without too much babbling from your dear mother and the gap between you and sicheng closing in for a little.

the last sentence baffled you for a second.

DAY 3

sicheng’s eyes shot open from the short slumber he was trying to get - failing miserably even, upon spotting you enter through the door. he pulled the chair beside him in hopes for you to get his message and take the seat. a frown made its way onto his face when you just waved at him, making your way to another spot a few chairs to the front. he scoffed, head tilting slightly before approaching you instead. you shot him a puzzled look, roughly translating to ask him what he’s doing here.

“i just want to be close to you. now focus,” he redirected his eyes onto the muscular man who just entered the room. he’s a songwriter - the best one in this company to be exact. you were focused on each point he explained, making small notes on your laptop. it’s not always that you’ll get a chance to be guided by a four-time award winning songwriter, might as well gain some benefits from it.

“another tip i have is to use all types of chords. remember, do not stick to the same ones, you’ll lack creativity. for instance, use major, minor, dominant, diminished, and augmented. i promise you, more ideas will be flowing and better quality songs will be produced. you got me?” the questioned, earning buzzing sounds of positive responses from the hall.

DAY 4

another day of group work, you’re given the task to create a melody according to the themes given - for your group, it’s love. looking at sicheng, he’s already on his electric guitar, strumming mindlessly to find the perfect note to start on. the rest of you are now juicing out some thoughts on this particular sense of human nature.

“love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all,” jaehyun suggests, earning nods of approval from the rest of your groupmates.

“you’re a pro at this, mr. romantic,” you teased him, earning a soft chuckle. a dimpled smile is etched onto his features, rosy cheeks and his eye smile making you fawn. prince-like visual and a sense of humour? a two in one package, totally.

“not really. i guess i’m a sucker for romance movies,” he rubbed the back of his neck. your small conversation came to a halt when you heard a crooked, loud sound coming from the rough strum on the guitar strings. you turned around to see sicheng gazing directly towards the both of you, a sharp one even. jaehyun just blinked his eyes before catching onto the situation unfolding in front of him while you’re still being completely oblivious. you tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what’s gotten into him.

it’s the day that yangyang has been looking forward to since the past few weeks, his dance tournament. you’re seated with ningning on the bleachers, music from the loudspeakers echoing through the walls. with the cheers of the bewatchers whenever someone captivated them with a trick or dance move, usually the risky ones, it truly is a loud atmosphere.

“now, welcoming contestant number 43 to take the stage,” the host announced, you and ningning clapped with all your might, shouting words of encouragement as well. yangyang took a deep breath before lifting his right hand up, cueing for the music to start playing. just then, there’s the sound of someone plopping down on the hard surface next to you - sicheng. he’s looking casual today, a light yellow hoodie replacing his usual dark clothings.

“what are you doing here?” you shout whispered while ningning raised her eyebrows at you.

“didn’t yangyang tell you? i’m here to watch him dance,” he countered your question before darting his eyes back to the boy who’s busy popping on the dance floor, tinashe’s song playing in the background. he ended his routine with a moonwalk, making his way to the end of the stage. you’re confident that he’s going to win the competition, looking at how precise and clean his moves were. all the late night practices he had eventually paid off when he’s announced as the second placer. nonetheless, he’s still proud of himself, not to mention you and ningning who have been with him throughout his whole journey.

“you did well,” sicheng welcomed him with a fist bump which he reciprocated back. you didn’t know that they were this good of friends.

“i’m starving,” he rubbed his hand onto his stomach, making you remember that your stomach has been rumbling since you only ate a cereal bar that morning. you were about to catch up to yangyang and ningning who were walking fast ahead when you felt a tug on your shirt, looking down to see sicheng crouching down to tie your loose shoelaces.

“you might fall,” he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, waiting for you to come along.

“um, thanks,” you muttered out before catching the glances given by your friends, later teasing you about the scene.

roars of students can be heard coherently, filling the basketball court. the basketball captain, a tall one with black charcoal hair is shooting a three-pointer. the players are then called over to their respective sides for whatever strategy their coaches will be implementing in the third-quarter. the home team is currently leading by five points, knowing that the players wearing the significant red and black jersey have been training their asses off for a while now.

but why exactly did you come to the game tonight? besides from the main event happening in the moment, the other reason is now standing in his position, strumming his electric guitar producing a funky sound that vibrates through the walls - a cue for the start of another buzzing stage. sicheng has been bugging you about watching him perform tonight and after quite some time evaluating, why not? when he finally caught you among the crowd, he flashed you a flirtatious wink. right before the band bowed as gratitude to the audience, he gave you a gesture to wait for him at the back of the gym.

“you came! but seriously, thank you,” he rested the sparkly white guitar against the wall, enveloping you into a hug. this is new, you tried to hide the flustered state of yours as you reciprocated his movement. from the corner of your eyes, you can see a black-haired guy approaching the two of you, followed by one with long, white hair and a bandana nicely keeping the fluffy strands in tact.

“ooh, who’s this?” the first one wiggled his eyebrows, later introducing himself as guanheng, the latter named yuta. to your surprise, the bond between you and them are quick to form with guanheng piloting the conversation. not to mention his subtle jokes making you giggle at times.

“well y/n, your little boyfriend here is getting jealous so we’ll excuse ourselves for now. see you whenever,” guanheng banging his drumsticks into the air while yuta gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the store room of the gymnasium. the nickname they gave sicheng surely made you a bit shy.

boyfriend?

DAY 5

you’re seated in front of the computer screen, your chin resting on the palm of your hands and the tabs of different colours left untouched. you redirected your gaze onto the projector screen, the words ‘arrange, mix, edit and master like a pro’ on it. a long sigh leaving your lips, you try to remember what the producer said earlier.

don’t make the song sound too repetitive

a good buildup promises a good melody

you can have a certain instrument playing only on one part for cinematic impact

DAY 6

“i’m hyo and you’re,” she moved the wheels of her chair to the back a bit to take another look at the clipboard resting on the desk, “sicheng, y/n and jaehyun, right?” the three of you nodded in harmony, anticipating for the next order that will be given.

“okay cool, we’ll be brainstorming first,” and she proceeded to explain what the requirements for this project are. you mouthed out the important points she gave, soft rock, heartbreak and drums. you’re on a roll today, contributing your countless ideas during the first few minutes of the discussion. sicheng just looked at you discussing with hyo, your lips pursed slightly. his gaze seems full of adoration, even jaehyun said so.

“any objections?” hyo looked over to the rest.

“i think she made some great ones. i’m sure this project will come out fresh,” jaehyun voiced out his opinions, sicheng nodding after. he went straight to handling the instruments , you and jaehyun collaborating for the mixing process. hyo eventually chimed in on some times, giving small advice whenever you seem stuck in the brain. with the hours ticking by, you’re feeling more satisfied than ever with your earphones in, listening to the final product created.

all of the participants are then assembled in the hall again, waiting for a final speech by the director which formalizes the end of the camp. sure, you’ve earned worthy knowledge throughout the six days. but if you’re being brutally true to the sound of your heart, it would be how you came to learn sicheng’s true antics. he might be the cocky guy who thinks they have the power to do anything but in truth, he’s just some guy with an honest heart, honest intentions to know you better.

summer break, your most anticipated event for the past few weeks. the moment the last bell rang, that scene in high school musical 2 kept replaying in the back of your head, the students doing a parade in front of the lockers picturing how your little heart is doing backflips in your chest right now. all the beach trips ningning planned is making you feel dizzy. you turned around to a voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway, your eyes catching the sight of sicheng jogging towards your spot. he stopped in front of you, hands on his knees catching his breath.

“are you free tomorrow night? there’s a party at guanheng’s and you know, it would be really cool if you join,” his fingers tracing onto each other, waiting patiently for your response.

you didn’t even have the time to process his invitation when ningning crashed her body against yours, yangyang following suit.

“a party? y/n would totally love to come, right?” ningning nudged your arms softly while yangyang tried to stifle a giggle. you were about to mouth out a ‘what?’ before sicheng cut you off.

“cool, you guys should come too. tomorrow at 10,” he and yangyang exchanged finger guns gestures before leaving the three of you. you just stood there in disbelief, eyeing them up and down before ningning dragged you to the parking lot. a stringful of grumbles escaped your lips, making the guy laugh obnoxiously.

“i can’t believe you guys did that,” you extended the seat belt, buckling it to the slot beside you.

“please. but you do want it, right?” you can’t deny, what she said was true. plus, you should have some fun and distress before having to go back to the usual dull routine of yours.

“how do i look?” you turn around, revealing the baby pink crop top and flare pants on your legs. it’s not your best outfit but giving the cliche excuse - you have nothing to wear, the two articles totally complements each other

“you look hot, that’s all i gotta say. right, yang?” ningning lifted her head from the headboard, glancing over at yangyang who’s going over his messages.

“yeah totally,” he lifted his hands, giving you a thumbs up. you threw a jacket onto your shoulders and grabbed the black purse on your dresser, glancing at the wall mirror one last time.

from the moment you stepped into the venue - guanheng’s place, smells of alcohol lingered around your nose, a group of people cheering ever so loudly over a game of beer pong, some already passed out on the couch. not to mention a brownish stain on the carpet - probably from someone throwing up. the mess would take a whole day to get rid off, you note to yourself. your friends are no longer to be found, both of them getting affiliated with god knows what. your eyes scanned the living room for sicheng but his presence is still nowhere to be found.

you decided to step towards the kitchen bar, pouring a drink for yourself. the mixed sweet and sour taste of it remained on your tongue for a couple of seconds. looking over at the snacks served, you grabbed a strawberry flavoured lollipop from the clear bowl. the crowd is cheering loudly for some type of incident happening at the back of the room, the music has been turned up to be a little louder than the volume before and you’re suddenly getting a little bit overwhelmed. you grabbed your purse and stepped out, inhaling some fresh air and looking up to the starry night sky.

“y/n? where have you been?” sicheng approached you from behind, making you a bit startled.

“sorry, hanging out outside can calm me. where did you go?” you popped the lollipop into your mouth.

“some jerk decided to throw up in front of me,” you pinched your nose with a disgusted expression, making him roll his eyes.

“do you want me to accompany you out here?” he offered. you just nod your head, placing yourself on the patio with him following suit. the sweetening flavour empowering your senses. it’s definitely much more calm out here, allowing you to clear up your mind. it’s not that you hate the atmosphere in the house right now, you’re just not in the mood.

“you know, you look pretty,” you turned around to meet his face. his brown eyes brimming with unconfessed love.

“shut up, stop with the jokes,” you lightly land a smack on his arms.

“what if i say i’m not joking?” he looked straight into your eyes, trying to find any emotion inside you. the sudden seriousness is making you feel much more awkward so you forced out a laugh, turning your attention right back upwards. the stars are shining brightly tonight, you can almost spot a constellation.

“i know what you’re doing, dong sicheng. just stop it already, it’s not working on me.” denial, that’s what you’re experiencing in the hot minute.

a gentle tug can be felt on your wrist, his eyes still not leaving yours.

“didn’t anyone tell you before? you’re really pretty. like, i can’t even describe it to you. you’re just,” he leaned over to caress your cheeks, “pretty,”.

what jaehyun said on the other day is true, after all.

love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all.

your heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of your chest at any moment now. even the faint music blasting through the speakers inside the house can’t flush down the sound of your heartbeat. you’re not used to this, the sudden need of the significant skin to skin contact that symbolizes love between two individuals.

“can i?” his face in a very near proximity from yours, whispering into your right ear with his honey-like voice. you pulled the candy away from your mouth and nod, giving him the approval he needed before he dived in. heat rose from your stomach to your chest. you could only focus on how soft his crimson lips felt on yours, invading your privacy by all senses. you felt the kiss expand beyond your bodies, whirling you round, swirling you into the stars. he pulled away with a soft smile, you thought you could melt right then and there.

“wow,” that was the only word escaping your throat. your jumping heart still hasn’t settled down yet, your very first kiss still feeling surreal. you could see that sicheng is very much mirroring your emotions, his slender fingers grazing over his lips - the one that has come in contact with yours.

“the strawberry lollipop is sweet,” he commented, making the both of you laugh.

a ping from your phone awakened you from the gushy eye contact with him, unlocking it only to find yangyang’s text message. the second part of it made you fluster.

yang: yo r u coming in or what? and congrats for the kiss, we thought we’d have to wait longer for this

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Breaking Promises

When Julie has to suddenly drop out of a Julie and the Phantoms performance, the role of lead singer falls to her best friend Y/N, as she’s the only other person who can make the boys visible to the world. When Y/N seems betrayed by this, it falls to Luke to figure out why the girl he’s been crushing on seems so hurt.

masterlist

Luke is bent over his guitar, fingers mindlessly strumming the strings. He’s supposed to be tuning the instrument, he knows that, but every time he tries to set himself up for some small task he can’t help but start trying to figure out another song. It’s like he can find music in everything, and sometimes, the call to come up with another few chord variations is too hard to ignore. Especially now, when he should have finished tuning his guitar ten minutes ago.

Well, it’s not like he has a whole lot to do anyway. The different members of Julie and the Phantoms (minus Julie herself) are strewn about the studio. Reggie is lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling. Alex, for some reason, is trying to figure out if he can walk all the way around the room without his feet touching the floor once. His gaze is laser-sharp as he focuses, arms held out for balance as he carefully steps from ottoman to couch cushion.

Luke frowns over at him, attention finally broken from the guitar. “You know, walking on the rug does still count as having your feet touch the ground.” Alex holds up a warning finger. “Actually, the rules are that you can’t touch the floor itself. The rug is not the ground, so I’m fine.” Another voice rings out from across the room. “That’s a lie and you know it. Rugs have never been safe.” Alex folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve been playing The Floor is Lava for decades longer than you, Y/N, so I think I’d know.”

Y/N, however, is undaunted by this. “You can’t pull the age thing on me if you’re wrong. The lava would soak through any rug. It’s an obvious fact.” Alex makes a face at her. “I’m still right about this. Luke, back me up.” Luke shakes his head, unable to hide a grin. “Sorry, Alex. Y/N’s right. Rugs are totally out of bounds.” Alex shoots him a sour look. “Somehow I’m not surprised that you’d pick her side.” Luke’s mouth falls open as Reggie bursts out in laughter. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Y/N’s smiling now as well. “It means that he’s still jealous that we’re right. Pay it no attention.” She turns back towards the notebook in her hands, leaving Alex with the opportunity to look meaningfully between her and Luke. Luke shoots him a glare, which just makes Alex’s grin even broader. Sometimes, Luke wishes he wasn’t in a band with such idiots.

Luke’s irritation begins to fade away when he looks back at Y/N. Her hand is strewn across her lap as she studies her scrawled chemistry notes, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the go. It’s strange- Y/N seems like the perfect person for music. She always knows the beat to a song, and she seems to walk, talk, and breathe melodies just like Luke. Even now, when she’s focusing on her homework, she’s still coming up with drum beats on the fly. It’s astonishing.

Yet every time Luke asks Y/N about music, she always changes the subject. It’s never interested her, she claims, or she has always left that to Julie and Flynn, her two best friends. Those excuses don’t make sense, though- Luke’s been to Y/N’s house before and she’s got piles of sheet music stacked up in the corners, and dusty instrument cases hidden in the attic. Y/N has definitely had a history in music, Luke just can’t figure out why she’s hiding it.

Music isn’t the only mystery lingering around Y/N L/N. She isn’t a ghost, yet she can still see Luke, Alex, and Reggie as if they were all lifers. Luke remembers when they first met- Y/N had been Julie’s best friend, and so she had been inevitably dragged over to the studio to hear the boys perform and prove that Julie wasn’t crazy, just like what happened to Flynn. Unlike Flynn, however, Y/N’s eyes had caught on the boys from the second she walked through the door, even before they had started playing music.

She had greeted them with no problem, and then her easygoing smile had started to fade when she saw the looks of utter confusion on Luke and his friends. A wave of troubled realization crested over her eyes when Julie explained that they were ghosts, as if she knew exactly why she could suddenly see them. Julie had been confused as well, and then she had turned to Y/N with a look of thunderstruck understanding.

“You can see them because of-” Her voice had cut off and Y/N had nodded quietly. “Yes.” The girls hadn’t said anything more, but Luke can still see the silent sadness that wrapped around both Y/N and Julie before they hurriedly changed conversations. They were clearly hiding something, but Luke doesn’t know what it could possibly be. They haven’t brought it up again, and they seem keen on hiding any possible reasons as to why Y/N has no problems seeing ghosts.

After a couple of minutes, Julie bursts through the door of the studio, out of breath from running to them. She stands in the doorway for a second, looking distinctly panicked. “You guys remember the gig we have planned in a couple of days?” Luke nods, along with the rest of his band. How could he not? It’s a fairly big show, at a premier jazz club. It’s no Orpheum, but it’ll give them some excellent street cred that the band could use to get even bigger.

Julie closes the studio doors behind her, and walks over to the assembled band. “We have a problem.” Y/N’s forehead creases, and she starts to rise out of her chair. “Here, I’ll let you guys talk this over in private.” Yet Julie shakes her head, gesturing for Y/N to sit back down. “Actually, I’m afraid you have to be here for this.” Y/N sits back down, looking troubled. Luke can’t blame her- Julie’s gaze keeps flickering over to her friend with a distinctly guilty expression.

Julie steeples her fingers in front of her. “Something came up with my family and I can’t make it to the show. I know the performance is a big deal, but I can’t miss this thing with my family. The only problem is that the jazz club has a strict policy on band cancellations, and we’ve already missed the window for backing out. We have to perform, but there’s no way I can make it in time.” Luke’s gaze falls. How are they supposed to play if they don’t have Julie? Without her, nobody will be able to see them.

Julie squares her shoulders, as if readying herself for a hardship. “We have to have someone performing with the boys so they can be seen and the club won’t think we’re backing out on them. I’m sorry, Y/N, but it has to be you.” Instantly, Y/N’s gaze drops. “What are you talking about?” Julie holds up her hands as if to defend herself from an attack. “I know how it sounds, but hear me out. You have an incredible voice, and you already know the boys better than anybody else.”

Luke looks over at Y/N, and is surprised to see that she looks distinctly unhappy. Angry, even. Reggie, on the other hand, does not seem to have picked this up. He beams over at her. “Y/N, I didn’t know you could sing! This is going to be so good!” Y/N glares over at Julie. “Judging by the fact that the boys don’t know about this, I’m assuming that this was all your idea. You want me to sing in a band in front of a large audience? Why not ask Flynn, or even Carrie? She would be better for this.”

Julie winces. “I know how you feel, but it’s our only option. The boys have to perform with someone who can see them so they can be visible to the audience. It has to be you.” If looks could kill, Julie would be as dead as Luke. Y/N’s voice is slow and cold. “You know what this means to me. You know exactly what this means to me, and you’re still asking me to do this. I can’t believe you.”

Julie starts to speak again, but Y/N holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it. After all, the future of this band is far more important than any of your friends, isn’t it? I know the songs, I’ll be ready. That’s what you really care about.” Y/N stands up, looking down at Julie with an expression of utter loathing. “When you didn’t want to make music because of your mom, I was there. I understood. But the rules only apply to you, don’t they? I will never forgive you for this.” With that, she walks swiftly out of the study, muttering something about needing to be alone.

Luke looks from the slamming door to Julie. “What was that about?” Julie looks sick to her stomach. “I never should have asked her to do this. She’s right, it was a bad idea.” Alex shakes his head, confused. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with Y/N having to perform?” Julie just sighs. “It’s personal. If she doesn’t tell you, I don’t think I should either. I’ve already upset her too much.”

Luke gets up slowly. “I’m going to go talk to her.” Before Julie can say a word to stop him, Luke is already poofing out of the studio. He can see Y/N’s figure disappearing around one corner, then two. He follows her slowly, and feels a dull surprise creep over him when he realizes that she is heading towards the cemetery. What could possibly be waiting for her there?

Something in the back of Luke’s head is telling him that this is too personal, and he’s about to witness a scene that was not meant for his own eyes to see. Something else tells him that Luke needs to see this to understand Y/N, and to learn how to fix whatever problem has just split her friendship with Julie down the middle. So, Luke continues to shadow Y/N’s footsteps, always just behind a tree or out of sight when she looks back. He has a feeling that if he is sighted or makes a sound, Y/N will back down from whatever she is about to do.

Eventually Y/N stops moving, and kneels beside a gravestone. It seems fairly recent, not chipped away and eroded like the others. Luke peers closer at the stone and realizes that it’s inscribed with a girl’s name, and the last name is L/N. Also, the death date occurred about a year ago. All of a sudden, Luke realizes who Y/N is visiting. Could this be her sister, a sister that died? Is that why she’s so upset?

Luke’s thoughts stop churning for a second when he realizes that Y/N is speaking quietly to the stone. “Hi. It’s me again. I just had to come here because-” Her voice drops off and she takes a second to collect herself before she begins speaking once more. “I need to apologize. You know that band I’ve talked about before? The one that’s made up of my friends? Well, they have this performance coming up in a few days, and they need me to sing with them because they’re ghosts and I’m one of the only people who can see them. I know how it sounds and everything, but I have no choice-”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she stops speaking. There, standing a few inches in front of her, is a girl. She looks only a couple of years older than Y/N, and even without the inscription on the headstone Luke can tell that this is Y/N’s sister. He can see it in her eyes, the shape of her face. However, unlike Y/N, this girl has a distinctive scowl that never seems to leave her expression, not even for a second. Y/N seems startled at the sight of her sister. “You’re here? I thought-”

Y/N’s sister cuts her off. “What, you thought I wouldn’t be here and so you’d feel okay with pretending everything is fine? We had a promise, don’t you remember? If I have to die and never play music again, you have to uphold the bargain. That’s how it works.” The girl starts walking forward, and Y/N scrambles backwards out of her way. “It wasn’t my choice- I didn’t want to- I have to be there! I tried to argue but there’s no way out of it.” The girl clicks her tongue in disappointment. “I hoped that you would try a little harder. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping my memory? Well, I can think of another way to keep the promise.”

Luke’s head snaps up as he realizes what the girl is about to do. Just before the sister’s arm reaches Y/N, he has poofed into existence in between them, stopping the blow just before it lands. Y/N stares at him. “Luke? Where did you come from?” Luke flashes her an apologetic smile. “I was trying to find you so I could figure out why you were so upset. I think I get it now, though.” Y/N’s sister huffs an irritated sigh. “Look at you, a friend to the rescue. This doesn’t concern you. The promise is between us.”

Luke shakes his head. “You don’t get to hurt her. Not like this, not in the promise. I want you to leave her alone. Only come back when you’re ready to apologize or treat her better.” Y/N’s sister scoffs. “And why would I do that?” Luke’s gaze grows steely. “Because I have friends who can make you. Have you ever heard of Caleb Covington? He knows me, and if I needed something I know he’d show up.” Y/N’s sister’s gaze falters. “You’re in touch with Caleb?” Luke nods. “I take it you know him?”

The girl looks terrified. “Any ghost who’s anybody knows about Caleb.” Her gaze cuts over to Y/N. “I’ll stop, I swear it. Sing with them. I don’t care. Just don’t set Caleb on my trail.” Luke squares his shoulders. “I won’t unless I have to.” Y/N’s sister fixes him with one last look, then poofs out again, leaving Luke and Y/N alone. Luke offers Y/N a hand, which she takes. She’s shaking slightly, which twists Luke’s heart like a knife. She glances over at him, confused.

“Wait, why did you bring up Caleb? I thought he hated you guys. You talked about him like he was a friend.” Luke spread his hands. “She doesn’t have to know that. I mean, all I really said is that Caleb knows who I am, and he does.” Y/N laughs incredulously. “You were bluffing that whole time? Even I believed you.” The two of them walk out of the cemetery, and only after they’re out on the sunlit sidewalk does Luke finally turn to Y/N once more.

“Was your sister the reason you didn’t want to perform with us at the club?” Y/N sighs. “Yes. We were closer than anything, and we had a little gig going as a joint act. We sang and wrote music together. We had plans of being this great band, and then she died one night in an accident.” Y/N stifles a broken laugh. “When I saw her again, I thought I was hallucinating. Then she broke my window and I realized she was actually there, albeit in ghost form. She made me promise that I would never perform again, because it wouldn’t be fair to her memory. Some part of me knew it wasn’t right, but I was afraid of her, I guess.”

Luke sees the doubt beginning to creep back onto Y/N’s face, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “It wasn’t right at all. That promise wasn’t something she could ask of you. That’s not dedication to music, that’s just her controlling her. A real musician would want you to move on and grow. I mean, we all hate Bobby because he stole our songs, not because he kept performing. I mean, I’m proud of him for doing so well, even though he tried to write us out of history. The issue isn’t with you singing, I promise.”

Y/N looks up at him, and Luke feels lost in her gaze. “Thank you for having my back. I know I shouldn’t have blown up at Julie, but I was so upset that she would make me perform that I guess I just lost it.” Luke frowns. “Julie knew about the promise?” Y/N nods. “I dropped out of music class and she wanted to know why. I told her that my sister had died and she didn’t want me to perform anymore, but not about the ghost stuff. Obviously.” A slight smile begins to creep onto her face. “Honestly, I’m excited about performing. I haven’t sung in front of people in a long time.”

Luke returns her smile. “I’m excited to hear you. To be honest, I’ve been hoping to hear you perform for a while.” Y/N’s brow furrows. “You knew I did music?” Luke shrugs. “I knew music was important to you so I took a guess. I know you’ll be amazing.” Y/N laughs. “How do you know that?” Luke leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I just have a feeling.”

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms luke #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms oneshot

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hypmicdaydreams · 3 years

Text

𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗺

-pairing: dice arisugawa x gn!reader

-genre: fluff (?), a bit of gambling action

-summary: dice’s lucky dice have lost their charm and no longer work; however, he’s sure that you’re his one true good luck charm, though you’re skeptical about that

-word count: 6.3k

it was such a common sight that you had grown accustomed to in the past few months that you had dated dice, yet it never failed to surprise you each and every time at just how careless he could be. dice, on his hands and knees before you, was, yet again, begging you to spare him just a few more yen so that he could go to the pachinko parlor down the street and try his hand at the new machine that they had just installed. he swore that he’d get a jackpot this time, he felt it in his gut. lady luck was finally on his side. how many times has he claimed that though? surely over a hundred by now, considering that this sight happened about three or four times a week.

“pleeeeease y/n. i just need a few yen. i just know that i’ll hit the jackpot for sure this time! i promise to pay you back.”

a sigh escaped your lips as you heard those words again, glancing at your hopeless boyfriend. he really did have zero shame bowing down on the ground like that, begging for a few scraps of money to feed his gambling addiction. surely his debt with you racked up close to thousands of yen by now, and that was probably a generous estimate. it’s not like you minded though. you had no doubt, however, that dice would pay you back if he won big.

if.

dice’s luck wasn’t exactly the best lately, having lost everything he’s managed to save up in a matter of minutes. then again, you couldn’t quite recall when the last time his luck ever was good. it seemed to just be a string of bad luck for dice, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the bad luck spell he was in. surely it must’ve taken a toll on him, right? maybe he’d stop gambling for a bit, try to save up some money first rather than betting something so obscure and irrational, like his life (you’re still astounded by the fact that he bet his life just to get a hypnosis microphone). but dice just loved proving you wrong. see, dice wasn’t a rational person, not in the slightest. logic and reason bothered him to no end, so he defied the odds. i mean, what fun would life be if everything was meticulously calculated. every day would be the same dull and lifeless routine, and dice hated the mere thought of such a lifestyle. you didn’t mind his outlook on life at all, in fact, you even supported it to a degree. you just wished he’d be more careful with his, er, hobbies.

“didn’t you say that the last time though?”

“er-” dice flinched once he realized he’d been caught red-handed, having been shoved into a corner by the very thing he hated: logic. “w-well ya, but! i really do think i’ll win big this time. it’s a gut feeling.” ugh, you grew to despise that word: gut feeling. everything was always determined by either luck or his gut when it came to dice. it was truly spectacular, really. you did love dice, you really did, but you couldn’t help but be concerned for him. his gambling tendencies were just a bit too much at times.

you had tried to ignore his pleas, tried your hardest to set your foot down and not give in to those puppy dog eyes he loved to use. it hurt to see that you were only feeding his gambling addiction rather than try to help him solve it. at that moment, however, seeing dice begging on his hands and knees and the look of desperation in his eyes overrid your sense of judgement. it hurt even more to see just how desperate he was for a couple hundred yen. he just tug on your heartstrings like that!

“well...fine.” you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle when you saw just how quickly dice’s expression changed from desperation to one of excitement. if he had a tail, you swore it’d be wagging. deep down, you scolded yourself for once again falling for his tactics, but could you really blame yourself? dice was just too lovable to turn down. “but on one condition.”

“hm?”

“you take me with you.” you really couldn’t predict how dice would take this news, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to smile even wider. i mean, why would he even want you in the same vicinity when he was gambling, especially when there was a large chance he’d lose yet again, and after having begged you for money once more. yet, that sounded like quite a deal to dice, who was practically over the moon at this point. not only does he get to feel the thrill of gambling once more, but he also gets to enjoy it with his lovely partner. it was like killing two birds with one stone. maybe you’d even begin to understand his love of the thrill. ooo, this was so exciting!

“heh, is that all?” to be honest, dice was expecting a much worse condition, such as never cooking for him again if he lost or never gambling again. geez, just the thought of it sent shivers down his spine. he’d have hated if he was given an ultimatum between either you or gambling. then again, that would’ve been an exciting bet. all or nothing, huh. now that gave him goosebumps. “you don’t have to worry about a thing. we got lady luck on our side after all,” dice confidently said, taking out his good luck charms, a pair of dice, from his pocket and throwing them into the air. he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d win big this time.

“gahh! what the hell??” dice practically shouted, although the other pachinko players seemed to pay no mind to him. it was rather common to find someone bet their entire life savings then lose them all within an afternoon. sure, it was a terrible sight, but the other players found their games to be much more important. you win some you lose some, that’s just how life worked. then again, the loud noises and distracting colors probably drowned out any connection to the outside world they may have had, however weak it was in the first place.

dice had, yet again, lost big time at the machines. standing behind him, you shook your head in disappointment. you knew that this exact scenario would play out once he had dragged you to a nearby pachinko parlor. those machines were literally designed to feed off of people’s tendency to think that they’d win big the next round. “tch, i was sure i’d win this time…” he took out his so-called lucky dice and threw them at the machine in frustration. you had been right, as much as he hated to admit. his luck had been garbage lately, which was only perpetuated by the fact that he lost his imaginary bet with you that he’d win. his good luck charms now brought on bad luck instead, and dice couldn’t help but get irritated. this entire time, they never let him down! but now...now they were just dead weight. the pair of dice had lost their touch. they were no longer good luck charms but rather just plain old dice.

“i knew this would happen,” he heard you mumble, which only irritated him further. dice just couldn’t seem to win a single bet, no matter how lousy or small. he never was one to let a spell of bad luck discourage him, but he couldn’t possibly be confident all the time. everything was finally catching up to him, and what made it worse was the fact that you didn’t seem to believe in him. it was the icing on the cake. “let’s head back home-”

“w-wait, just one more time! please, i’m sure we’ll get it this time.”

“you’ve said that the past four matches.”

“er-well...” dice had to think of some excuse fast if he wanted to stay here. sure, he may have lost everything he had begged you for, but maybe you’d be willing to lend him a few more yen? dice did doubt it, but he just couldn’t leave the parlor, not yet, not when he hasn’t won anything at all. maybe, just maybe, his luck will turn around this time. he was holding on to the last bit of optimism he had. “t-then, how about you play for a change?” even if he couldn’t play, maybe you would win big for the both of them. after all, you’ve never gambled before, or at least not that he knew of, so you must have some sort of beginner’s luck, right? well, this was his only chance, and dice was going to bet on it.

you, on the other hand, were quite taken aback at this sudden development. you, gambling? it didn’t really sound right. besides, you’ve taken a look around the place, and uh, needless to say, you felt a deep pit form in your stomach once you saw the desperation on some faces. you didn’t want to go through that same feeling as them. casinos weren’t fair, after all. they were rigged to make more money for the house, and you really didn’t want to play into their scheme. yet, you didn’t have the heart to explain that to dice who seemed so eager. “um, i don’t think that’s a good idea. i don’t even know how to play-”

“it’s simple, i’ll teach you.” you internally groaned. just great. now you were wrapped up in his plan to make you guys stay longer at the parlor. you mentally cursed yourself for being so oblivious to it all, and now you had no choice but to play along. once again, you’d fallen into his trap. “you just gotta put some money in here, pull the lever, and aim for that place right there,” dice pointed out, nudging you into the seat as he simultaneously explained the rules. if this works out just as planned, dice could see himself leaving this place with a couple thousand yen in his pocket. gosh, he was getting excited just thinking about it. you, however, seemed a bit hesitant at first, so dice tried to massage and pat your shoulders, you know, for reassurance. it’s just a quick, simple game of pachinko, what could possibly go wrong?

“like this?” you asked, pushing down on the lever which sent a ball flying into one corner of the screen. with its landing, the machine lights started flashing (it was enough to induce a headache), and a rather good sum of metal balls came spilling out of the machine.

“woah, you just won a couple thousand yen!!” dice practically screamed, which didn’t help when you had just been blinded by many colorful bands of light. he couldn’t contain his excitement and was quite literally visibly shaking from all the adrenaline that just flowed through his body. you just stared at the screen, dumbfounded at what had just happened. did you really just win? on your first try?? there was absolutely no way that was possible, right? a few of the other players stopped and quickly glanced at all the commotion, although that didn’t last long as they were soon back to staring at their own screens and attempting to earn some cash. “hey, hey, pull the lever again!”

“um, ok?” once more, you pulled the lever, and the lights started flashing once again as a few more metal balls came spilling out of the machine.

“holy shit—talk about some beginner’s luck!! you just won a few ten thousand yen! gah, you must be so lucky y/n!!” dice didn’t even attempt to hide his shouting at this point, though you truly wished he’d stop shaking you, especially when the entire world was still spinning. honestly, you couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening right now. the blinding lights were nothing but a haze, and the loud machine noises introduced a sharp ringing in your ears. “press it again! you still have metal balls left.” you couldn’t quite remember the last time dice was this ecstatic; well, that time dice was practically starving and the look on his face when he saw the feast you had cooked for him did come close, but this one took the cake.

“uhh, i think i’ve had enough excitement for today,” you groaned, holding your head which hadn’t stopped spinning from the first time the lights went off. this whole thing was a bit much with all the colors and loud noises and whatnot. how dice was able to keep up with this environment you didn’t know. honestly, you sorta respected him now. not just anyone could stomach this type of atmosphere.“why don’t you take over and complete it for me?”

“don’t have to ask me twice, heh.” immediately after getting up, dice took your seat and began pressing the lever in no time at all, concentrating immensely on the tiny balls and aiming them at what you hypothesized to be the center for the jackpot. ball after ball kept landing on a few spots, which resulted in another couple thousand metal balls, though dice seemed to pay no mind to them and instead kept smacking the lever. now, this scene was stirring up quite a commotion, and you were pretty sure everyone’s eyes in the parlor were on you. there were even a few murmurs here and there from the employees which, needless to say, didn’t help your growing uneasiness.

“what’s even going on?” you asked aloud, though you weren’t really expecting an answer, at least not from dice who seemed to be on a roll. his eyes were only on the pachinko machine now. damn, you wished dice looked at you the same way he looked at that machine at this instant. that was the largest grin you’d ever seen. and finally, at the very last ball, dice hit a jackpot.

instantly, dice’s eyes widened, and a loud “YESS!!” echoed throughout the parlor. the lights and noises increased in intensity, and everyone now was practically circling around dice, pushing you out of the group and onto the floor. you were certainly much more flabbergasted than anything else at this moment. dice, your dice, finally won the jackpot? this certainly couldn’t be a dream. hell, that’d be some dream in the first place. the world never stopped spinning, and all of the voices and cheers and shouts were incoherent and merged together. what the hell would even happen from here on out? you never imagined dice winning the jackpot, and on the day you decided to attend of all times.

“y/n, y/n!!” you heard dice shout, and in a flash, someone had grabbed your arm, hoisted you up from the ground, and the next thing you knew, you were snuggling into dice’s chest. “can you believe it? we won haha!” as much as you wanted to congratulate dice on his huge win, it was difficult to say anything. for one, you were way too nauseous, and the bright spots that clouded your vision, as well as the consistent annoying ringing in your ears, didn’t help. secondly, dice was clinging on to you way too tightly. you were pretty sure that he was cutting off your airway, but he seemed to not be aware of that. “damn! you really are my lucky charm.”

after that entire incident, dice had started calling you by a new nickname: his good luck charm. you weren’t even entirely sure why, assuming that everything that occurred back in the parlor was nothing more than a mere coincidence. it was just a coincidence that you were there, and it was just a coincidence that he had managed to hit the jackpot that same night too. to be honest, you didn’t really believe much in luck. sure, there was a few good luck or bad luck spells here and there, but you attributed that to nothing more than a series of coincidences. i mean, luck was such a complex subject when one pondered on it for far too long, and it just didn’t seem highly plausible that a person could have a series of good or bad things happening to them all at once. was that even statistically possible? well, if it was, there was no doubt that the chances were very slim.

as aforementioned, however, dice despised logic. it was just too boring, so he truly believed in luck. there really was a being such as lady luck that toyed with him and determined whether he’d win or lose. and that entire pachinko incident was his good luck finally making a comeback. perhaps you were even luck in disguise! i mean, he’d been in such a bad luck spell that he couldn’t even win on simple bets such as a coin toss (yes, he was that desperate), but when you were right by his side, all of a sudden, he was swimming in cash. there was only one plausible explanation for such a phenomenon, and to dice, it was luck. this entire situation was just so rivoting!

and today again, dice had managed to bet off and proceed to lose all of his winnings from that day. honestly, that was a rather huge accomplishment in and of itself. dice truly didn’t know the definition of self control. you sighed to yourself as you felt a massive headache coming on as you sat in your home, wondering to yourself where your boyfriend could possibly be at such a time. it was nearing ten at night, and although you’d naturally assume that he was at a casino betting away anything he had on hand, you hadn’t seen him all day. he hadn’t been answering his calls from you either, which you did find a bit odd and concerning since that was one of the things he always managed to do without fail. just where could he possibly be?

as the saying goes, speak of the devil and he’ll appear. just as you were getting more and more concerned about the whereabouts of your boyfriend, your phone suddenly rung, and to your relief, the contact id was that of dice. relief immediately flooded you, although anger followed soon after. he’d disappeared for the entire day, with no urge to contact and inform you at all, yet he was finally calling now, when you were about to retire for the day? you really tried not to get angry, especially since you were much more worried than anything, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to contain your anger.

that all dissipated, however, when you heard dice’s voice over the call. “y/n!!” for some odd reason, dice sounded relieved and also a bit terrified? well, that was new. dice never backed down from a challenge, and he always managed to face them head on with total confidence in himself, even if the chances of winning were slim. sure, he’s had his fair share of disappointment and lack of confidence in himself when it came to gambling, but he never sounded fearful. you quickly became much more concerned than beforehand.

“dice?? where are you? and why haven’t you been picking up?!”

“uh haha...you see, about that-”

you really did love dice, you truly did. despite his obsessive gambling tendencies and airheadedness, dice had a heart of gold and stood up for what he deemed was right. he was quite admirable at times, really. but god, this incident made you believe otherwise. you knew that dice was quite foolish and spontaneous at times, especially when money was involved, but you couldn’t help but still be baffled when he explained that he was stuck in some sorta underground gambling ring (you had no idea how he even found out about all of these schemes) since he’d gambled all of his current earnings away. of course, you knew that dice would gamble away any spare penny he had on hand. that in and of itself wasn’t a new or surprising fact (though he always did manage to pay you back if he did win). but an underground gambling ring? really? you couldn’t help but question why he even chose to go to one instead of heading on over to the usual casino where practices were, at the very least, legal. it surely would’ve spared the two of you a headache.

despite the fact that every single rational cell in your body was insisting that it was too dangerous to go to an illegal gambling scene, you threw all that logic out the window. sure you were quite a bit irritated with dice at the moment, but you knew that you had to go save him. he was still the man that you loved after all, even if he did make less than smart decisions at times. certainly you were one of his only chances he had to be saved, unless he did call upon his teammates, though you assumed that they were quite busy at the moment or asleep.

“alright, where are you at?”

“gahh, you’re such a blessing y/n! thankyouthankyou-”

you could practically picture his enthusiasm over the phone once you heard how relieved he sounded. just imagining a grinning dice waiting for you made you smile. he was just too adorable. you couldn’t possibly stay mad at him for too long. god, you really were a lovesick fool.

when you arrived at the scene, the first thing you couldn’t help but notice was just how musty and humid the entire atmosphere was, though it wasn’t that much different from your usual casino. the only difference was that this place was rather bleak and lifeless in comparison to the bright and migraine-inducing colorful and bright mess of the casino. plus, the people that surrounded this place were rather unsettling. you couldn’t pinpoint whether it was because of their malicious smiles or gruff appearance, but all you knew was that you couldn’t wait to get outta here as soon as possible. hell, if it weren’t for the fact that dice was located deep inside, your instincts would’ve kicked in, and you would’ve been sprinting to the other side by now. but alas, you had to suck it up and go inside, if only to get to see your man again.

down the creaky and unsafe stairs you went (you were positive that they were going to cave in on you at any moment) and right past the dark hallway, you were finally able to see dice, laying on the ground in nothing but his underwear. you sighed once more, something you realized that you’ve been doing a lot of lately. of course dice had bet his clothes again. you weren’t even exactly sure why you had expected anything else. in front of him sat one large table filled to the brim with all sorts of cards and dice, and behind that were a group of rather large men that you assumed to be the ones who ran this entire operation. geez, you really couldn’t wait to get outta here.

“y/nnn!!” dice called out a bit too loud as he motioned you to come forward before practically throwing himself on you. “gah, thank heavens you actually came!!” you were just as excited as him to finally see each other again and to see him safe and alive, but it wasn’t exactly the best place to have a heartwarming reunion, not with all of the other guys staring at the two of you embracing. things were just way too awkward, especially since these guys had basically won over all of dice’s savings and whatnot.

“alright then, now that i’ve found you, let’s go back home,” you quickly muttered, taking dice’s hands in yours as you started on your way back. as much as you would’ve loved to stay and have a quick chat with the others or even attempt to win back dice’s clothes, every instinct in your body was telling you to run outta there while you had the chance. sure, it was a shame that dice had to lose his iconic coat and overworn clothes, but frankly, you thought that the value of both of your lives was much higher than some ripped pants. you’d be more than happy to go buy some new clothes for dice just as soon as the two of you were outta this underground room that gave you goosebumps. you weren’t exactly sure whether or not these guys posed a threat, but it was better to not take any chances.

“uhh, about that…”

oh no, it was those dreaded words again. of course there was some kinda setback. there was always a setback in these situations where a person was trying to go back to the comfort of their own home. you quickly snapped towards dice, only to be met with his sheepish smile, which only deepend once he saw the glare in your eyes. honestly, this entire situation was just getting more and more frustrating with each passing minute. all you desperately wanted was to get back home safe with dice in your arms, but of course, there were obstacles (there has to be some sorta plot to this entire story after all). geez, you felt another headache coming on.

“ya see, um, you gotta win your right to leave…”

for a good few seconds, all you could do was stare dumbfoundly at the man you loved, trying to process what he had just said. surely this was all one big joke, right? “what?! then why did you even come here in the first place?!”

“i didn’t even know about the rules until after i had started! forgive me y/n!!” just as this story started, dice was now on his knees, this time begging for your mercy. gosh, he genuinely does seem sorry for putting the both of you through this entire situation. besides, you knew that he meant well. dice was just a bit naïve and airheaded at times, always getting caught up in the excitement of it all rather than to stop and think about what exactly was going on. it was one of the qualities that you loved oh so dearly about him. dice never really intended to put himself or you in harm’s way; rather, he was just chasing excitement and the adrenaline rush. gahh, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long. plus, the sight of him begging for your forgiveness and the sincerity in his voice broke you, and you even began to feel a bit guilty for him. god, you really did love this fool.

“it’s alright,” you mumbled, helping dice up from the floor while patting him on the back for reassurance. you weren’t mad, at least not right now. you’d have plenty of time to air any grievances once the two of you were back home safe and sound, but right now, you had to focus on the problem at hand. dice, on the other hand, seemed rather relieved that you decided to help him. deep down, he knew that he was in for it the moment the two of you got back to your place, but of course, he was determined to make it up to you. dice really felt so blessed to have someone as kind and understanding as you as his lover. “soo, what do i have to do in order for us to go back home?”

the next thing you knew, you sat in front of a roulette table with a couple of the ring leaders on either side of you as well as on at the head of the table. roulette was a game that you were quite familiar with, although that was only because you had seen dice play it a number of times at the casino. as for actual experience with it, well, you’d hardly played any games with it before. the rules did seem fairly simple, though the terminology was a bit difficult to get used to, and the odds didn’t seem to be making much sense in the back of your brain, which at the moment was overrun by adrenaline and fear. it was hard to even think straight, much less make proper decisions that’d ensure the safety of both you and dice.

“alright, place your bets,” the dealer announced once he’d distributed all of the colored chips. soon enough, the people around you started placing their own chips on different tiled squares and even between them. all of this was foreign to you. i mean, what exactly was the difference between placing a chip at an intersection of four boxes, placing it in a large box, or placing it in one single box? you had no idea about the different types of strategies or the different types of bets, so you decided that your best bet was to go along with your gut. i mean, gambling was all about luck after all, right? it shouldn’t matter whether or not you decided to utilize a strategy since there was no possible way to accurately predict the route the metal ball would take. so, you decided to move all your chips to one square: three.

“oo, a straight bet, how exciting!” dice commented, though you had absolutely no idea what that even meant. just like back at the pachinko parlor, the entire atmosphere was making you quite queasy, and it was quite difficult to pay attention to anything that was going on. taking notice of the rather puzzled look on your face, dice then proceeded to explain. “well, it means that you’re betting on just one number! it’s really difficult to win, but the payout is huge if you do!” ah yes, you should’ve known that it was quite the risky move if dice approved of it. geez, all you wanted to do was get outta here as soon as possible, but it seemed like it would take much longer than that if you kept making risky bets like this.

before you could even change your mind about the placement of your bets, the ball was released, and you were quickly hypnotized by its spinning movement. it was another thing to add on to your nausea and quickly rising anxiety. before you could dwell on it too much, however, as luck would have it, the ball landed on three.

“gahh, y/nn!! you really are my lucky charm!” dice once again shouted, embracing you in a rather tight squeeze. what just happened? was this all a replay of the pachinko parlor incident? surely this was nothing but a mere coincidence, right? luck didn’t exist, or at the very least, you didn’t have extraordinarily good luck. you couldn’t have. the rest of the table quickly turned their eyes to the two of you, glaring at you in particular for having won your first time through.

“i’m sure it was all a coincidence,” you mumbled, trying to ease all of the tension in the room as well as get the others off your back. you weren’t exactly content on making anyone’s hitlist tonight, which didn’t work out the moment the dealer gave you your chips that you had won. wow, it was way more than what you had originally bet too.

for the next game, you decided to once more place most of your chips on a single space, this time the zero one. you knew this time around that this was quite a risky move, especially since if it didn’t land there, then all of the money you had won would’ve been gone. so you decided that your best bet was to keep a small pile of chips and save them for later in case you did lose any. after all, you wanted to ensure that you were able to win back your escape for both you and dice.

and since this is a fanfiction, the ball, once again, landed on your exact spot: zero. dice’s cheer this time was much louder, and the glares from the others were much more cutthroat and icy (you were absolutely sure that you were murdered over a hundred times over just by the intensity of those glares alone). well, that was some coincidence, huh. two times in a row. must be beginner’s luck, exactly like back at the pachinko parlor. yep, that’s all it was, beginner’s luck or just an even stranger coincidence.

“see y/n? i told you that you were my good luck charm,” dice cheekily commented, massaging your shoulders as you got prepared for the next game. “if this keeps up, then we’ll win back everything i lost, and we’ll be outta here in no time!!” it was quite easy to tell that dice was way too ecstatic and high on adrenaline right now, with the way he was bouncing up and down and the fact that he didn’t seem like he could even sit still or contain his excitement. his unchecked enthusiasm really didn’t help ease your growing anxiety or pounding headache. in fact, it made it worse, because he had expectations for you. it would absolutely devastate him if you managed to lose everything in one sitting, and that would have a chain reaction and devastate you as well. gosh, you prayed that this entire situation ended soon and without anyone getting hurt.

and just like that, your prayers were soon answered as you kept on hitting the jackpot again and again the next few rounds. dice wasn’t even attempting to hide his high right now, and the others also weren’t attempting to hide their aggression and resort to violence. there were even shouts that you had cheated, to which dice argued with them while you remained seated, rooted in both silence and fear. your anxiety and nausea were starting to take over, and it took everything in you to stop yourself from projectile vomiting onto the table and ruining the entire game. the others surely would’ve beat you and dice to a pulp if that happened. this entire chain of coincidences was becoming way too much. perhaps this was the luck dice had talked about. perhaps you truly were his good luck charm. well, you were quickly taken out of your thoughts by the dealer, who had confirmed that there was no possible way that you could’ve cheated given that he released the ball and it was all up to chance.

it was on to the final round now, and with this round, you’d finally be able to go back home with dice with all the money he lost and then some. and courtesy of dice’s suggestion, you decided to bet your stacks and stacks of chips on just one square: twenty-seven. you knew that this was risky, hell, you knew that you’d most likely lose everything. but you couldn’t think straight right now. hell, you couldn’t even think at all! everything was becoming way too confusing, and similar to the time at the pachinko parlor, your world was spinning and you couldn’t differentiate between anything anymore. it had all become way too much, so dice had taken over for you. yes, it wasn’t the smartest decision, but you basically had no choice right now.

and with that, the ball was released once more, and within a few seconds the results came out: twenty-seven. you couldn’t help but stare at disbelief as your boyfriend then hoisted you up and started chanting about how you were his luckiest charm, proceeding to then plant one giant sloppy kiss on your lips before going on to receive all of the prize money and his clothing. at this point, you had gotten used to the dirty glares the others have given you. quite frankly, you were just relieved to be outta there, which did happen as the moment dice got all of your winnings, you grabbed his hand and bolted out of that place, never wanting to see that place again. that in and of itself was an adventure of a lifetime, and you weren’t sure if you could take anymore excitement for at least a good few years, all thanks to your adventurous and carefree boyfriend.

the walk back home through the crisp night air was quiet on your part, though dice couldn’t stop going on and on about how you won big and saved his ass, reiterating that you were his lucky charm, luckier than any dumb ol’ dice he had used beforehand. while dice went on his whole spiel about just how exciting all of that was, you were deep in thought about the events that had just went down. there was no way that this series of events was nothing but a coincidence. coincidences don’t just happen back to back! at least, the odds of that were slim to none. guess the only reasonable explanation was just as dice said, you were lucky. but you were quite skeptical about luck! luck was unreasonable, luck wasn’t logical. luck was just that, it was luck. how could you place your hopes on something as strange as that? but how could you possibly dismiss everything that happened both tonight and back at the parlor? no matter how skeptical you were, the proof was right there! geez, now your head hurt too much from thinking about it. sighing, you stared at your boyfriend who was nonchalantly talking about how you were so cool back there, smiling as you intertwined your hands with his and embraced his warmth. you were just happy that he came back safe and sound. you were, after all, his good luck charm, and he was yours too.

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #dice arisugawa #dice x reader #fluff #fic #gender neutral reader #this is actually the first thing i ever wrote for hypmic #decided to post it on dices bday bc why not lol

33 notes · View notes

sunsetcurvecuddles · 3 years

Note

51. "You're cold, take my jacket."

And 75. "You're overworking yourself... Please take a break."

For 2020 rayvor

stay as long as you need | ray&trevor or ray/trevor | 2k | g

ao3 link in reblogs!

Ray hasn’t been to this house in such a long time. So long that he thinks, maybe, Rose was with him, the last time, that she’d held his hand as they’d made their way up this strange driveway. It has an eerie quality to it, deeply familiar yet changed, like something he saw in a dream a long time ago rather than somewhere he used to spend a huge amount of his time with the people most important to him.

The barbed wire’s new.

It’s made more surreal by how exhausted Ray is from the last few weeks, and by the phone conversation that preceded his visit, and the amount of time Ray has spent lying awake at night trying to make this decision. Trying to do what’s best for everyone. Trying to figure out where he fits in that.

Anyway. He makes it in through the scary new security gate, because Trevor (or possibly Trevor’s assistant) had the forethought to text him the entry code, and he finds himself at the unnecessarily imposing front door, his confidence somewhat faltering.

It’s not going to do you any good to put things off, a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Rose reminds him. The thought of her, the expression she’d have on her face as she scolded him, makes him smile, gives him the encouragement he needs to go up to the door and press the foreboding doorbell. He’s almost expecting to be greeted by one of Trevor’s string of housekeepers, assistants, secretaries and associates who constantly cycle through the house, but when the door opens, he’s surprised to be face-to-face with Trevor himself.

It’s astonishingly painful, the kind of emotion that’s so powerful it’s impossible to distinguish between happiness or sadness, like those categories have become irrelevant in the face of its intensity. Trevor looks older, which isn’t a surprise, because it’s not like Ray hasn’t seen photos of him in that time (Ray’s kept up with the tabloids, not that he’s proud to admit it), but regardless, it’s still different seeing him in person. Trevor looks like he hasn’t been sleeping, and not just a usual Trevor level of running on too little sleep and too little food and too little time to breathe, but like he really hasn’t been sleeping, something drawn around the edges of his jaw, huge bags under his eyes. Ray swallows against the lump that forms in his throat.

“Uh. Hey,” Trevor says, intensely stiff and awkward in a way that makes him almost sound like Bobby, for a moment. “You… you okay? Look rough.”

Surprised, Ray responds, “I -- yeah, as well as I can be. You?”

“Fine,” Trevor says gruffly. Then he recovers, somewhat, smoothes it over with his nonchalant celebrity tone when he continues, “D’you mind if we go for a walk? Carrie’s home, I don’t want to stress her out.”

Ray assumes this means Carrie didn’t know he was coming, which hurts a little just because he misses her so much. If it was just that Trevor wanted to talk away from her, the house is large enough that they could go to the other side and yell at the top of their lungs and she still wouldn’t hear them.

(Ray really hopes no one will be yelling at all, regardless of where they’re located, actually).

“Sure,” he says, shrugs his shoulders. Doesn’t know how to deal with this kind of informality when he still feels like he’s gently crumbling on the inside, like everything in him is screaming at him to give Trevor a hug when he knows that’s not appropriate, or in-line with a gradual and sustainable reconciliation, and everything else he’s talked to Dr. Turner about.

Trevor slips out and closes the door behind him and gestures for Ray to follow him, which Ray does, because apparently that’s still what he does. Trevor falls into step next to Ray as he leads him down into the strange, feng-shui garden they’ve got going on at the back of the house. In his rockstar-style heeled boots, Trevor is just a little taller than Ray, their shoulders level as they almost brush. Ray can’t remember being so aware of the space between him and another person in years and years.

The path winds downhill, then curves to the right, around some heavy willow trees that obscure Ray’s vision until it opens up into a glade. There’s a carefully placed wrought-iron bench on one side, looking down over the hill and shaded by the willows flowing down around it on all sides. A few feet over there’s a statue of what looks like a Greek deity, not that it’s Ray’s area of expertise.

Trevor sits on the bench and clasps his hands in the space between his knees. He leaves space for Ray to sit beside him, so Ray does. He bites back the temptation to ask why in the world Trevor has a Greek statue in the middle of what seems to be, otherwise, a very East-Asian style garden. To be honest, he thinks maybe his instinct to make a dig about it comes from the fact that he doesn’t really know what else to say.

It had been so difficult to understand what Trevor was even talking about, over the phone, words all tied up and Ray’s ears ringing with the emotion and surprise of the fact that the conversation was happening at all. Something about the past coming back to haunt them.

“So,” says Trevor. Maybe it’s disconcerting for other people to see him fumble like this, Ray thinks, since he’s usually so charming, so put-together. Ray just finds it familiar, almost soothing, the reminder that Bobby’s still in there somewhere, under everything. “Uh. I know you already told me, but… can we start from the beginning?”

So that’s what they do. Ray does his best to retrace, one step at a time, the events of the day after the Orpheum, Julie approaching him in the kitchen, Papi, there’s something I have to tell you... The way she’d lead him out to the garage when he didn’t believe her, and there they were -- her three bandmates, not from Sweden at all, but from 1995. It was surreal, after so long hearing stories from Trevor and then Julie, to see those boys in the flesh - what at least looked like the flesh. Later, Julie confirmed this, based on Flynn pricking Luke’s finger with a safety pin, and him yelping at the way it actually touched him, the way a real droplet of blood formed in that spot.

(Trevor’s eyes go faraway, unreadable, at every mention of Luke.)

Ray leaves space for Trevor to ask questions, but he doesn’t. He sits and listens, encourages Ray on with something like and then what or is that it? when the silence stretches out too long, but besides that doesn’t have much to say at all.

By the end of the story the sun is starting to set, and the garden around them is growing cool. With the adrenaline fading, the surreal feeling of the situation settling in, Ray realises that he’s tired, too, that this feels like the longest period of time he’s spent sitting down in one place for at least a few weeks. There’s been an overwhelming amount of change and a lot of extra work, for all these new people who need him for different reasons. Really, he hasn’t had much time to process or adjust.

Beside him, Trevor starts to shiver a little. He’s trying to hide it, but again, it’s just him and Ray, so he’s doing a poor job. Ray goes to slide his coat off, pausing to muffle a yawn into his elbow. If it was like old times, he would have just held the side of his jacket open, curled Trevor into it and put an arm around his shoulders. But Trevor’s broader than he was then, seems to be eating better even if he’s not looking after himself in other ways.

Plus all the other reasons. There are so many reasons it’s not like old times.

“What are you -- Ray, stop,” Trevor says, bordering on petulant, god, he sounds so much like himself, like Bobby, “don’t.”

“You’re cold. Take my jacket,” Ray says, raising his eyebrows. It’s an invitation for Trevor to try and lie to him if he really wants, because Ray knows he’s right. Trevor looks down at his feet, kicks a pebble. It’s such a Bobby gesture. Ray will never fully be able to separate the two, no matter how much time he’s given.

He holds out the jacket, insistent. Trevor hesitates, but only for a moment, before he takes it from Ray, slides it on over his probably-disgustingly-expensive plain white t-shirt. “There,” Trevor grumbles, “you happy?”

“Yes,” says Ray, and it comes out too genuine, too heartfelt.

Trevor looks at him again, crease in his brow. Tilts his head, narrows his eyes. “So they’ve just been… living with you, since then?”

Ray blinks, taken aback. “That’s right,” he replies, smothering another yawn into the back of his hand. To play it off, he jokes, “We did always want a big family.”

“You’re overworking yourself,” Trevor mutters. “I can tell how tired you are, and I know having the boys -- the ghosts,” he corrects himself, “having the ghosts around must mean you have a lot going on.” Trevor runs both hands through his hair, pushes it back off his face, and carries on. “I know how good you are at making other people feel like everything’s taken care of, but… you’ll burn out if you’re not careful.”

Suddenly, Ray feels too warm in the face, like there are too many eyes on him even though it’s just him and Trevor in the garden. “I just told you that all of your bandmates came back as ghosts, joined a band with my daughter, and somehow now they’re alive again,” he laughs, “and you’re worried about me?”

Trevor doesn’t laugh. Just swallows, meets Ray’s eyes, and says, “Yeah. I am. Because I know you. And I know how you are, that you won’t let anyone else help unless they make you.”

It’s been such a huge few weeks. And now Ray knows, more than anything, that he should be taking care of Trevor, and here’s Trevor, probably still in shock, trying to take care of him instead. “And who are you suggesting I ask for help?” he says at last. “You?”

“I would do it in a heartbeat,” Trevor assures him. “Anything. For you and the kids and -- and the boys. Whatever you needed. But you can’t keep going on your own til you crash and burn.”

Ray can’t remember the last time he had someone call him out like that, so directly, so shamelessly to his face.

Oh. Yes, he can. His gut twists with missing her so much it hurts.

Trevor smiles, a twisted, grimacing, affectionate thing, and says, “Sorry. It’s what she would’ve wanted me to say.”

“She would have,” Ray agrees. He sits back against the bench. Feels his arm press to Trevor’s. “She always said I needed to be more selfish.”

“She was right.” Trevor nudges him, elbow to elbow. His eyes are bitter and tired and kind. He’s going to break down later, Ray reminds himself, he’ll need me, I know he will. And he’s ready for that, feels bad that they’re not focusing on Trevor right now, but the shock could mean it’s taking time for the news to really sink in. And all Trevor’s expression is giving him is understanding and patience and concern.

Maybe Ray can afford to be selfish, just for a moment. Maybe it would help Trevor, if he was. Before he can think it through too much, he shuffles to lean his head on Trevor’s shoulder, against the fabric of his own jacket. He feels Trevor tense, and he almost thinks he’s made a mistake, but then Trevor takes a deep, shaky breath, and his arm comes up around Ray’s waist, to pull him in closer, to hold him tight. His fingertips dig into Ray’s side, almost too tight, but settling in just right.

“Yeah,” Trevor says, hushed. He turns his head and Ray feels Trevor rest his face in Ray’s hair. He might press a kiss there, but maybe Ray’s tired mind is just imagining things. “Just like that. Just… please, take a break.”

“Okay,” Ray whispers. Doesn’t dare speak any louder than that, for fear of breaking the spell.

Trevor sighs out a long breath like he’s been holding it in for years. Like he’s been holding it in since he was Bobby, surrounded by his boys alive and well, or since he was Bobby, curled on Ray and Rose’s couch, tucked under Rose’s favourite crochet blanket. The trees around them rustle in the cold evening breeze. Ray closes his eyes.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfic #ray molina #trevor wilson

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fearlessmayee · 3 years

Note

Top ten AFHF documentary moments, go!

Thank you for asking sea, but you've really put me in a dilemma, how the f am I supposed to choose 10? All of it was my favorite, he shined like the sun throughout the entire thing.

1. We got to see him in his element, him being nervous and excited just anticipating to share his passion with us. Can you imagine him thinking wishing to run away, and yet, staying put, squaring his shoulders and facing it head on. Hoping to give up, yet hoping against hope to do it again, even if it's just one more time.

“I hate this feeling [before going onstage]. Helene always said to me, that's a choice is it nerves or is excitement? It’s the same. Only now I look in the moment I feel it, but I look at it differently. […] I always have this feeling before in my mind where I’m thinking ‘if I could run away, I would’ but now I’m thinking ‘just get me out there!’ ”

2. You can see, that he is so far away from his ''image'' of One direction, yet the same teenage boy having this unattainable dream of being a singer, and that lad from donny. Expectedly, yes, he has grown and changed throughout the years, but his fundamentals and core remain the same.

“You know coming from a situation like One Direction it was never gonna be a walk in the park becoming a solo artist. I’ve had shit to deal with.“

2. BRUH, Vulnerability? from a white male? In his 20s and 30s?Who's an reputed artist? Who's a millionaire? I-? This line was just so true, and raw, and REAL.

“When everyday is the same, it’s hard to feel creative and its hard to get any kind of inspiration”

3. This sentence to me represented acceptance of struggles, usually a strong personality would rather not acknowledge his/her/their struggles. They'd rather be seen as someone who can do this in their sleep instead of saying, that yes my life is hard sometimes.

“Too many times in my career have I had to pick myself up and go ‘right let’s go again’ ”

4. Efforts, the sheer efforts. When you're at the level that you are, you happen to start putting significantly lot less effort in your work. Instead here's this baby, who is working even more hard, putting in extra energy, time, and assets into honing his craft. A true dedicated artist.

“I put in a lot of work with Helene over Zoom as well because of that I don’t think I’ve ever been that excited over a gig and I finally feel like I’m gonna get out there and not just enjoy it for fucking just bathe in it. Love it.“

5. Right, an artist who values his fanbase instead of taking them for granted and only using them for their money? you're kidding! An artist, who regularly emphasizes the importance of his fans, and never forgets to thanks them? Right, you're dreaming! An artist who meticulously plans a free festival for his fans? You're delusional

“Just the togetherness. That’s what makes me feel like I can take on the world. Because with that lot behind me, who’s gonna fucking stop us?”

6. Helene. That relationship - its closeness and intensity -- really surprised me. You can tell that they share a deep meaningful emotional bond. She's a mentor for him in every way and its clear she loves him as much as he loves her. A pretty rare sight, in between people who don't give really seem to give a fuck about him. There's a mother/son vibe there and he seems to trust her as completely as she admires him. Tbh, Helene I cried too.

“I trust Helene implicitly. She can tell me after I smashed it and I’m trying to read between the lines. Today, today she was fucking crying man.”

7. The moments the band were given to really what they can do, jamming out (including the strings going for it too.) Steve is phenomenal as is Michael, but they're all incredible frankly. The band was so cool, I'd also like to mention the other artists and people who's work The production design, the set design, the lighting, the sounds. Everyone except the marketing and advertising department, should clap themselves for a job well done.

8. Charlie. How well he gets Louis. How loyal he is to Louis, how much he appreciates who he is and what he can do. And how extraordinarily skilled he is at what he does himself. In fact this demonstrate just how good Louis is at finding people whore superb at what they do. He did his job phenomenally, exceptionally.

9. The fans as shown through the lens, which might be a substitute for through Louis eyes. Their love, their pride and delight came across so clearly .I loved that all the rainbow flags were given the spotlight - instead of being skimmed over, Only the Brave was a true moment. Similarly Two of Us, was a real moment, the fans knowing how much the song it meant for him, and understanding its value and being respectful about it. How they seemed shell-shocked and speechless during changes.

10. Maybe most of all, the reckless, fun, fuck it all style of the celebration shots moment and the band euphoric celebratory hug, showing their bond and relationship clearly. I absolutely loved those moments in the film because they were so Louis. He may be the leader but he's also a literal kid, a partner in crime some might say, pure unpredictable fun.

Watching the AFHF documentary, I feel every emotion that Louis went through and I know that we all are felt them together. He was just so happy and confident during the concert. A God on the stage. Anyone who has doubts Louis performance abilities, I urge you to watch 5 minutes of this. The immensity and intimacy are like nothing I’ve experienced with any other artist.

He is a real person, instead of some carefully crafted media persona; he is genuine artist, instead of any fake popstar wannabe; has real talent, instead of pretending to be talented; he is humble and kind, instead of someone advocating to be humble and kind, he is gold, instead of being glitter, and he is the SUN, instead of the moon who leaches of off someone else's light.

His character and personality was really visible. This was better than any interview, any promo, anything we could have hoped for. His standards are so very high, and he’s truly harder on himself than anyone else around him. I've no idea how he doesn't drown in the pressure and instead finds a way to break the expectations. Truly, As many have already commented, Louis always delivers, because what he gives is from his incredible intelligence and his big heart.

The reason it was fucking unbelievable was yes, ’cause I played me music and I sang some shit, but more importantly that we all are in the same room with the same idea, the same intention, the same feeling... And that, more than anything, is what I’ve come away from these situations feeling just this togetherness, and that is what makes me feel like I can take on the fucking world.

#asks #answered asks #sea #louis tomlinson #awfh festival #awfh documentary

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raspberry-arev · 3 years

Text

After The Flood - pt.1

@opalpower13 thank you for sending me a suggestion that inspired this!! There will be a part two :)

It has been 10 years since the famous British boyband, The Ark, disbanded for personal reasons. Jimmy and Lister have been a couple for a long time now, and as the trio of friends starts their small revival tour, they both realize there are things they need to say - to each other, to the fanbase, and to the world.

Characters: Jimmy, Lister, Rowan, Angel/Feresteh, OC Abby (Rowan’s wife)

Tags: Bicci, Older Ark, Proposal, Coming out ... no Frowan this time sorry

Length: 3.6k words

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and grilling camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer. At a certain point during their cook-out, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After The Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, spill.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

#bicci #rowan omondi #jimmy gaga ricci #lister bird #iwbft #i was born for this #fanfiction #osemanverse fanfiction #osemanverse #alice oseman #proposal #request

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Text

Carnival

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.5k Warning: fluff and a few curse words (and PINING!) Summary: There’s a carnival down by the bay and Becca ditches her friends to spend her special day with Ethan. This takes place during OHSY.

A/N: As always thanks to @aylamwrites for pre-reading. Also sorry this has taken so long, anon! Hope you’re happy with it 😬

________________________________________

It was a warm summer day and the gang of residents finally had a Sunday off together in what felt like months. Elijah, Jackie, Sienna, Becca, Bryce and Kyra were all sprawled around the living room of the former four’s apartment, their skin itching with heat.

“I’m going to die if we don’t get the A.C. fixed,“ Becca groaned from the wooden floor.

“I called Farley,” Sienna noted from the corner of the couch. “He said someone’s coming Monday morning.“

Bryce whined, “But it’s 90 degrees today!” He was parallel to Becca, cuddling his discarded shirt as a pillow.

“Don’t you have your own place?“ Jackie retorted.

Bryce reached over to pat Becca’s stomach and responded, “I’d choose sweating my balls off with my best pal over me-time any day.“

Jackie squinted her eyes, still not too sure of the dynamic between The B’s.

Elijah was scrolling through Pictagram when he piped in, “Guys, did you know there’s a carnival in Charlestown?”

The friends responded with mixed grumbles of “no”, “really?”, and one “aren’t we too old for rides?”.

“Says there’s a beer garden, and it’s by the water,” he added in hopes of coaxing his friends into a little adventure.

It was a unanimous decision for the residents to leave the uncomfortable heat of the apartment and head to the park. The carnival was down by the bay and in support of the Boston Historical Society. The group circled the grounds twice, taking time to play one of those water racing games and sample all that the best food trucks Boston have to offer.

The tap stall was by far their favorite. The gray truck was home to six different beers and even had a game bolted to the passenger side. If you managed to get all 3 rings on the vertically hanging and impossibly tiny peg, you got a free pint and a commemorative mug. Bryce managed to win free pints for himself, Becca and Kyra - although Kyra used the cancer card when the last ring spun along the peg tantalizingly slowly before falling off the side. Bryce shot her a disapproving look as Kyra accepted the free drink. The three winners stood by while Jackie fought with the worker about how this game was completely rigged, so desperately wanting a win and free beer.

Filling up her second mug as she waited, Becca snapped a commemorative photo of her day drunk state with Bryce’s megawatt smile and wink photobombing in the background. Cheekily, she texted it to Ethan. They were friends after all. The two hadn’t crossed any intimate lines since he returned from the Amazon, though they could be caught holding hands time and time again.

Before she could respond back she was being dragged away.

“Come on, Becks!”

Bryce led them to the photobooth where they all took a string of silly pictures. It was fun to immortalize this day, but Bryce had an ulterior motive.

“Happy Birthday, Becks,” he whispered in her ear as the six of them posed with various props.

She looked over at the bright eyed and absolutely perfect man next to her, “How did you -?”

Becca didn’t like birthdays and she certainly didn’t tell people when hers was. The only people who knew the significance of today were her mother, aunt, and HR representative at Edenbrook.

All he offered was a wiggle of his manicured brows and “I have my ways of persuasion.”

“Hospital database?” she matched.

Bryce chuckled and slung an arm over his best friend’s shoulders, “I’ll never tell.”

As the sweltering afternoon set in, the group settled into the grass of the secluded beer garden and enjoyed the band playing some classic rock cover songs. She was leaning into Bryce when Becca noticed a familiar gray sweater passing by.

Her eyes furrowed thinking she was hallucinating. Who in their right mind wears a cardigan in this heat!? After blinking a few times she was certain he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

“Be right back,” she hopped up so quickly she nudged Bryce in the ribs. “Sorry,” she mouthed as she ran after the tall and notably refined figure she’s come to admire.

“Hey!” she called from six feet away, “Dr. Grumpy!”

Ethan turned towards the recognizable sing-song voice and let her catch up to him.

Becca had the biggest smile plastered onto her sun kissed cheeks when she said, “You came.”

“It’d be a shame not to support such a worthwhile cause,” he shrugged as he crossed his arms, trying hard not to let her smile infect him. “Also there’s a gourmet mac and cheese truck I’ve heard is a must-try.”

In her current tipsy state she didn’t catch most of his words but knew she texted him about Mac Attack’s presence as a follow up to their conversation about comfort food from last week.

With a deviously elated smile, Becca slung her arm through his and tugged, “Lets go.”

Ethan was stunned by her forwardness in such a public place, however, for some reason he didn’t care.

“Where to?” he asked with a faint smirk as he shuffled along with her.

“I’ve been thinking about fried Oreo’s all day,” Becca all but moaned, licking her lips.

He quipped, “I’d like some sustenance to combat the imminent heart attack.”

“Mac Attack it is!” she said in complete elation before skipping along, dragging Ethan alongside her.

They stood fourth in line at the popular bright yellow and red food truck. The clear blue sky started to turn shades of wandering pink and purple as the sun began to set. Becca was staring up at the sky as Ethan was studying the limited menu with distaste.

“That looks awful,” Ethan groaned, pointing at the bucket of everything-on-top gooey mac-and-cheese one of the patrons was walking away with.

“Well if you didn’t want to eat greasy comfort food, why’d you come?”

Ethan dismissed her comment, sheepishly caving, “Fine, let’s share.” The beam radiating off her freckled cheeks was all the reassurance he needed. “You like truffles?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’. “I like crispy onions and bacon.”

Their eyes met and Ethan let the slightest of smiles find home on his lips.

Ethan paid for the meal and the two carried the carton over to an empty wooden picnic bench. He held the cheesy heaven in his large palm stably for them to pick at with their two-pronged forks.

“I concede,” Ethan began after the second forkful, “This is rather tasty.”

“Told you!” Becca lit up. “And you should wash it down with…” she patted her body and looked around their seating area for her mug. “Crap, I left it with Bryce.” Her doe brown eyes went wide as realization washed over her. “Shit, how long have I been gone for?” she said more to herself.

Becca stood up, grabbing her phone from her jean short pocket and texted the group chat a single emoji.

“All good.” She put the phone back in its place and bent down to shove the last big forkful of gooey goodness into her mouth. “Whatcha wanna do now?” Ethan gazed at her as she not-so-eloquently spoke with a mouthful. “Riiiides?”

“I don’t do rides.”

“Heh,” she tried and wonderfully failed to hide her smirk at the naughty remark she could have made. One and a half more beers and she would have made it.

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Your options are: ferris wheel, sizzler, or photobooth and beer garden,” she listed off a few things she wouldn’t mind doing. “Fair warning, my friends are camped out in the beer garden.”

He sighed, “Ferris wheel.”

“So romantic!” she winked.

“I regret this already.”

The two chucked the rubbish in the nearest garbage pail and made their way to the side of the park with the rides. They walked side by side, their hands brushing against the other’s every now and again. In the bubble of waning alcohol and heat of this surprising summer day her pinky extended to caress his before capturing it as her own.

Not far from the Ferris wheel entrance, they noticed Baz, Zaid and Ines in conversation by the ticket booth. With a timid look at one another Ethan took her whole hand in his and promptly changed course;

“Photobooth.”

She can’t say she minded.

Becca tugged back on his hand stopping him in his tracks. Ethan whipped around, eyes pleading. He did not want to be caught, lest by Baz.

“Beer first. You gotta catch up,” she enlightened. “I don’t want four photos of Dr. Grouch. I want Ethan.”

Lucky enough they were at the east entrance while her friends were still camped out by the west. Even more in Ethan’s favor, one of the stalls was a local whiskey distillery.

“Someone knew you were coming,” Becca joked as she pointed to the wooden stall.

After some bargaining, the doctors were graciously allowed to down two flights of samples in exchange for Ethan placing a decent-sized delivery order.

“Last one.” He inspected the liquid. “I will not be offended if you can’t stomach it. Though I will judge you.” He lifted the dixie cup up and she saluted hers as well.

The thick brown solvent smelled like sweet gasoline and tingled against her tongue. Becca pursed her lips in an attempt to keep an indifferent face. She couldn’t do it. Her mouth begged for air and a chaser. “It burns,” she choked.

Everything about Becca was endearing. Her cheeks were flushed and her freckles were more prominent than he had ever seen, even in the dusk and illuminated by harsh floodlights. A brisk night breeze washed over them sending a shiver up her spine. Without a second thought, Ethan shrugged out of his cardigan, holding it open for her.

Becca closed the gap between them, turning her back and slipping her arms into the baggy sleeves of the soft fabric. The closeness and wafts of his cologne were another type of intoxicating. She fell into it. Her back pressed into Ethan’s chest, she tilted to see the ebullient blue eyes gazing down at her. His supple lips parted. The pleasant whiskey-laced breaths enticing her.

Their locked eyes were glazed, a telling signal that it was about time to let loose.

Ethan licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Where’s this godforsaken photobooth?”

With the kindest of smiles she broke the trance, pulling his cardigan tightly around her and moving onto the next activity.

They moseyed on over to the photobooth, coming full circle on her special day out.

Being just over 6’4”, Ethan was too tall and the photographer signaled him to sit on the stool. Becca gazed at the box of props in consideration, deciding to go au naturale. She already had the silly photos from earlier, anyway. Looking at Ethan sitting there impatiently Becca bit her lip, deciding on an audacious move.

She sauntered over, fitting herself perfectly in the space between his legs. She perched herself on his left thigh and draped her arm over the back of his shoulders, feeling every tense muscle along his upper back. Ethan reflexively closed his legs tight to give her better balance and wrapped his left arm securely around her waist. The much too big cardigan slipped, exposing her bare shoulders. Their eyes locked. His free hand flew to the exposed skin of her leg as it lifted to lay across his lap on its own volition. The corners of her lips perked before she turned her head to the camera, letting the photographer know they were more or less ready.

They both gave their best candid smile.

Click.

Becca was so close. Ethan was drawn to the sweet scent of vanilla and gardenias on her neck. His eyes hooded as he relished her, and his left hand grabbed a wanton fistful of sweater.

Click.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him inching closer, and tilted her head towards him. Their noses brushed.

“It’s my birthday,” she whispered, their lips mere centimeters apart.

“Is it?” he murmured.

Click.

She nodded sheepishly, her half-lidded eyes never leaving his.

His wide eyes never looked more crystal clear.

A signature smirk took place as he hinted, “Then I supposed ‘Happy Birthday’ is in order.”

His heated breath was sweet with the last notes of whiskey and lingering of mint. It surrounded her, pulling her closer to him. His shallow breaths picked up as her lungs stopped working. It was as if he was breathing for her, giving her life in his simplistic existence. A fleeting pound against her side gave her a push.

She kissed him. For the first time in months they became one.

Their lips overlapped, capturing his plump bottom lip between her own. His shoulders rounded under her touch. Neither dared to deepen the moment. Her tender kiss became bruising as he gripped her tighter, closer - as close as their flush bodies could become.

Click.

Ethan pulled away, “Reb-”

She pressed her index finger to his lips. “Shh, that’s my present,” she sighed with her forehead against his.

They sat there longer than acceptable, hearts racing and eyes conveying all they wish they had the courage to say.

The loud grumble from the photographer brought them back into reality.

Becca waited a few steps away from the booth as Ethan apologized and paid for the photographs. He bought two copies; folding one delicately in his wallet before walking over and handing the other to her.

Becca stared at the first photo on the strip, her thumb hovering over their faces. “I can’t believe you’re smiling,” she contentedly muttered. Her eyes trailed down to the last. Looking up at Ethan she told him in earnest, “Best present ever.”

Ethan’s hand flew to rub the back of his neck as he averted his gaze down to the dewy grass. “I - I knew it’s your birthday, Rookie.”

She raised a brow, “Came down to celebrate with me?”

“Something like that.”

Becca found the hidden smile in his features instantly. She went to take a step closer to him, daring for their lips to meet once more.

But the universe had other plans.

The loud bellowing voice stopped her motions, “Becks!”

“Becca!” another rang.

“Over here!” Bryce shouted once more from a fried food stand.

They both let out a breath of air.

Becca bit her lip as she looked from Ethan to Bryce and back to Ethan. “I… should go.”

Deep brown met clouded blue, both filled with restrained sorrow.

“Don’t get into any trouble.”

“No promises.” She winked as she slipped out of his sweater. He accepted the fabric, now envious of how it was able to hold her all evening long. A lightbulb went off in Ethan’s mind as she started to turn away.

“Oh.. right,” Ethan called her back to attention. She spun around, hopeful. “Here.” He handed her an ivory envelope from his back pocket with her name written out in his fluid script.

She held the card in the same hand as the photos, looking down at it longingly. “Thank you.” Becca brought the weighted paper up to linger over her heart as she took one more look up at his sapphire blue eyes glistening along with the stars.

Ethan gave a single nod, “See you tomorrow, Rookie.”

________________________________________

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#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ohsy #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #oph series #oph2 #choices oh #bryce lahela #oph #oph ff #ff

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mason-knight-retired · 3 years

Text

Before Asteria

(timelines? don’t know her) --

The halls of the defunct Cerberus base are uncomfortably familiar.

There are ghosts lurking in the shadows. The warren-like layout of this place was almost identical to Phoenix 1, and with every door they kick open, every room they check, Mason almost expects to find Tatsu or any other familiar face huddled in a corner.

Even with the flickering lights overhead from the failing power grid, Mason could easily imagine he was back on P1. It’s disturbing on too many levels but it’s not until they shift into the long hallway of the residential deck that it really seems to hit home.

There are rows of self contained suites for the operatives. His room, along with Ethan’s, had always been larger and nestled at the end of the hallway on P1. Virtue of seniority, he supposes.

By the end, Ethan’s room on P1 had been mostly for storage.

Mason knows he’s not the only one uncomfortable walking these halls. Ben and Nico feel it too, but it’s something they all pointedly ignore. Until they can’t any longer.

The dragoon comes at him with a lash Mason meets with his own and with the movement, the same terrifying dream replays behind his eyes - the nightmare of each one of them, twisted and remade into one of these and he hesitates. Despite the fact Ethan’s ring on his ringer and Ben and Nico are at first at his back and then in front of him, he hesitates to take the death blow.

There’s a blue crackle in the air and Nico booms past him, hot on Ben’s tail, so fast Mason hadn’t even felt the biotic brush against him until he was on the opposite side of the hall and squarely colliding with the dragoon’s chest. Then it’s on the ground, convulsing grotesquely as something bloody and black oozes from between the plates of its armor.

Marie’s voice sounds in Mason’s ear through the tinny speakers in his helmet. “What was that?”

“Hostiles,” Mason replies curtly. Ben moves on ahead, kicking the doors open and hunting for more quarry. “Dragoons as we expected. Stay alert, there might be more.”

When Mason turns around, it's straight into Zeus shiny blue breast plate looming over him, uncomfortably close. “What?”

Nico’s eyes glitter through his face plate, just a golden glow on the other side. “You hesitated, Huntsman.”

“Of course I fucking did.”

“One day that’s going to get you killed.”

Mason grits his teeth and bites back his retort. He glances sideways at the dragoon on the floor, the armour so familiar and foreign at the same time. Maybe it was the nightmares that kept replaying behind his eyes, but he still couldn’t separate phoenix and dragoons any easier this many months into the fleet’s campaign than it had been at the start.

Nico doesn’t move.

“Come on, Zeus. Get moving. We still have three more levels to clear.”

“You’ve lost your edge,” Nico tells him.

Mason snorts and kicks the body on the floor in irritation. The black ooze leaks over his armored toe and squelches as he hauls up the dragoon’s limp wrist and tries to pry away the gauntlet. It’s an ugly job, the gauntlet fused into the dragoon’s wrist and bone. He tries not to let himself think about who this man was, if there was a family out there that missed him, or someone he loved waiting for him to come home.

Maybe Zeus was right. “Maybe I should hand over command to you then, huh, Zeus?” Mason says it with a bitter edge, a challenge wrapped up in annoyance, although who he’s really pissed at, he can’t tell.

Nico moves out of his way slowly but Mason can feel the way his eyes burn into him. “Maybe you should.”

Nico’s answer plants a seed in the back of Mason's mind and its tendrils grow with every quiet step back on the Berlin. He passes the observation lounge and overhears Luca crooning over his guitar, singing some slow song about love and loneliness and missing the one you love and he backtracks to stand in the doorway and listen.

Luca catches his eye but he doesn’t stop until he’s finished his song.

“Got anything happier?” Masons asks, venturing into the room. Maybe a distraction will help push away the aching loneliness. When he’d first come on board the Berlin, he had missed Ethan desperately too, but this now was a different kind of ache. Bittersweet in a way, because he knows Ethan is missing him too.

“Not really in the mood,” Luca huffs, glancing down at his feet. There’s a bruise around his eye that’s faded and Mason knows the reason for it is still languishing in the brig. He wishes there was more they could do about it, but this wasn’t Cerberus, and the kid wasn’t really one of theirs. The Alliance had to follow their own protocols.

Mason hesitates to leave anyway.

He tilts his head. “You okay, Luca?”

The engineer looks up, as though surprised Mason would address him. He sort of is. “You know, I think you’re the only one who doesn’t call me ‘kid.’”

“Is…” Mason frowns. “I can, if you want me to?”

“No,” Luca flashes him a small smile from under his curls. Sometimes he reminds him a little of Ben from before, although with a lot less batarian thrashcore and not entirely chaotic pranks. “I kind of hate it when they call me kid.”

Mason finds himself drifting closer. “I heard about what happened. I’m sorry.”

Luca grimaces and the twang of the strings goes from pleasant to something harsh before stopping all together with a slap on the guitar’s body. “Uh. Thanks. But it’s cool. I can handle it.”

Luca starts to play again, another song Mason doesn’t recognize and Mason sags back against the couch as he listens.

The gold band around his finger feels heavy.

“Let me get this straight-“

Marie pinches the brow of her nose and sighs. She looks tired, more strung out than he’s ever seen her and the guilt rides him hard against his breastbone. “You want to go back to the citadel?”

“You don't need me here, Commander,” Mason shrugs and tries to soften the news by playing to her ego. It almost works but then her lips purse as he continues. “I thought you did. But you've got Nico. You've got Ben and Maddox, even if he’s not fighting fit yet. You don’t need me just now. And I... I just want to be with Ethan. We just… it feels like we only just found each other and then I had to say goodbye to him. And it turns out I’m not as okay with that as I thought I would be.”

“I can understand that, Mase.” She glances at the band on his finger, then looks away. “Priorities change, I get it. But.... It's temporary, right?”

“I hope so. I know things haven’t been exactly great between us lately, but-“

“Shut up. I still love you. I love all of you phoenix boys. But we’re not done here.” She waves a hand, encompassing the ship. “Not by a long shot. I still need all of you.”

“I know. And you’ll have us when it counts, I promise you that, Ree.”

In the docking bay, Mason hoists the duffle bag over his shoulder and peers into a familiar set of bright green eyes. “I'll stay if you need me too, Benji. I feel bad being the one to ask you here in the first place and then leaving myself.”

“No,” the little vanguard grins. “I’m good, Boss. But say hi for me. Both.”

“I will. And with any luck, I might even be able to bring them back with me. It might make things more pleasant around here.”

Ben scrunches his nose. “Yeah,” Mason laughs. “Okay, no. It won’t. It was fun having Ethan on board for a while though.”

“More fun for you.”

“Guilty. But… Look, Benji, real talk now. Promise me you’re going to keep on top of your meds and regular check in’s with Kate, okay?”

Ben nods solemnly and Mason squeezes his shoulder. “I told Luca to keep an eye out for you, but I’m pretty sure he’d do that anyway. In the meantime, you stay out trou.... No, actually. Forget that.” Mason shakes his head and grins. “Get out there and raise hell, little cat.”

It takes far too long to get back to the Citadel, a handful of hops and jumps in passing cruisers and a near miss on account of the reapers, but he’s never been more happy to step foot back into the artificial air and stand under the artificial clouds.

He’s walking down the ramp when he sees him – Sabre, husband, the love of his life - the face and body he traced over and over in his mind on the Berlin during the long nights alone. His face splits into a grin in spite of himself and he shakes his head in a disbelieving laugh.

“How did you know?” he asks without preamble as he gets close.

Ethan holds himself still and watches him, eyes hungry. “I knew as soon as your ship came through the relay. Do you really think I wasn’t keeping tabs on my heart while you were out there?”

Mason comes to a stop in front of him, still grinning and flooded with so much love he’s almost dizzy with it. The latent hum of Ethan’s biotics brushing against his own settles him in a way nothing else could. “I should have known. Kinda ruined my epic surprise though.”

“No. It didn’t. Not by a long shot.” Ethan’s hands cups his face, brushing over his lips. Those hazel eyes Mason has been dreaming about go soft as he holds Mason reverently and presses their foreheads together. “Hi, baby,” he whispers.

Mason drops his duffle bag and grips Ethan close. “Hi. I missed you so much.”

#ethan sinclair #scooter roosevelt #mason knight #luca moreno #alskdjklasjd thank god they're together again #eason #married eason #before asteria #marie miller

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Chapter 14 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter fourteen

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

Life is good on the other side of Hollywood. The song really does stick. Life with Emily has definitely changed me for the better. I feel like I’m soaring on clouds every time I’m around her or even think of her. And my songwriting has gotten better too. “Where have you been?” My mother’s bone-chilling angry voice greets me when I enter the kitchen. “You’ve been out nearly every night of the week, not returning until late.” This is not going to be a fun conversation. “I was rehearsing with the boys, ma,” I say as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, hoping to escape this talking-to quickly. “Again? What about school, Charlie?!” “I did that before I left for rehearsals,” I lie. Why would anyone work for school when there are no tests this week? That’s just working for nothing. This whole school-thing is a waste of time when you think about it. I want to be a Rockstar, get Sunset Curve famous. “You don’t think I would actually believe that, right?!” Her voice rises with the second. “Believe what you want, mom. There’s nothing going on this week anyway.” I probably should not have said that because mom’s expression changes from angry to furious. “That’s no reason not to work for it, Charles Gillespie!” The full name takes me back to Emily calling me Charles and it’s enough for my brain to give my lips permission to curl up. “You think this is funny, do you?” The smile vanishes as soon as it came. “No, mom! But I got this, okay? This is my life and I’ve got control over it, okay? You have to let me live my life, mom!” The screaming match lures my father into the kitchen as well. “What’s going on here?” he asks, clearly annoyed we’d disturbed his favorite show. “Your son over here thinks he has control over his life and doesn’t need to work for school anymore,” mom explains, the volume of her voice goes down, but the anger’s still there. “I mean, he’s seventeen, honey…” At least dad understands me, “He’s going to learn how to live life by making mistakes, you got to let him make them.” “You’re seriously going to take his side right now?!” The volume raises again. “Mom! This has nothing to do with taking sides! If you didn’t breathe on my neck like you always do, you would know how amazing the band is doing and that I have an amazing girlfriend! But all you care about is controlling my life!” I freeze when I realize what I’d just yelled at my mother. “Just let me live!” “You’re seventeen, Charlie! You don’t know what you’re doing with your life!” At least she’s not reacting to my girlfriend-news I’d just blurted out to them. If she ever talks shit about Emily, I swear to God, it won’t be their finest day. “No, I don’t! But that’s normal, okay?! I want to figure out life by myself, with my band, with my girlfriend. So, stay out of it!” I push past her and dad, grab my backpack and leave the house again, cycling to Jeremy’s garage again. I know I’m always welcome to crash there after a fight with my parents. Owen and Jeremy are both still in the garage, cleaning up, chatting. When they see me, their grinning faces fade into worried glances. They already know what’s going on. I drop my backpack on the floor and plop down next to Owen onto the couch. “You okay, man?” Owen asks. “Yeah, just my parents being controlling again, you know?” He offers me a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Jere, do you mind me crashing here tonight?” “You can stay as long as you want,” he replies with a smile. “Thanks, man.” “I’m staying the night too,” Owen tells me, “Parents still aren’t talking to me.” “How long since you came out to them?” I can feel my heart breaking at the thought of Owen just being himself and completely being obliterated by his parents, the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally. “About a year…” Heart shattered. “At least I still got Luka.” I smile as I think about Owen’s sister. In 6th grade, she used to babysit us, even though we thought we were old enough to stay home alone. But Luka actually was the best babysitter ever. And I can’t deny I had a little crush on her at one point. It did blow over when she ditched us one time to go on a date. Besides being the greatest babysitter ever, she’s also been a great sport in Owen’s coming out. She was the first one he told besides us. Not only that, she’s also the biggest Sunset Curve fan. “How is Luka?” I ask, which earns me a sharp glare from Owen. “I’m just curious.” “She’s navigating college, so home isn’t where I want to be at the moment.” “Right, must be tough for her too,” Jeremy chimes in. “Yeah, must be tough having your parents worry about your every move.” I note the sarcasm in his voice and offer him a sympathetic smile, hoping that’ll help somewhat. I also feel slightly attacked by his comment. “Hey, at least we’ve got each other,” I tell him, patting his shoulder. “And us is all we need,” Owen agrees with a small smile shining through. “And Emily!” Jeremy’s mention of Emily simply makes me smile again. Even the mention of her name makes me smile. I guess that does show how whipped I am for this girl. I wish I could tell her though. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Both Owen and Jeremy nod their heads, agreeing with me. “You’re so in love with her, bro,” Owen says. “Have you taken her on a date yet?” Jeremy wants to know. “No, not really. Unless you count sorting invoices at the Music Store or secret make-out sessions on her balcony?” They now shake their heads in response. “Why don’t you take her out on a date? Cute little picknick? Movie?” Owen suggests. “Yeah, if you want, you can take her here, we’ll set up like a projector and a screen, decorate with Christmas lights, and buy some food.” I stare at Jeremy for a little longer than I’d like. Did that really come out of his mouth? That’s a decent idea for once. “I don’t know if she likes romantic gestures like that though?” I manage to bring out once I’ve recomposed myself. “What girl wouldn’t like watching a movie on a big screen with her boyfriend, eating food, surrounded by pretty lights?” Owen reasons. That’s a good point. “Will you guys help me set up though?” They nod in response, and we get to work straight away. Jeremy goes inside to grab the projector and a large white sheet we hang up in the garage while Owen and I go on the hunt for the Christmas lights. According to Jeremy, we’d find in the attic. “Have you told Emily about us yet?” Owen asks me when we’re in the attic by ourselves, searching for the box with the decorations. I look up at him for a second before turning to a cardboard box to my right. “Uhm, no… I’m not sure how to tell her I used to date my bandmate?” “Emily’s cool, man. Her favorite uncle was gay and now she lives with his husband and they both know I’m gay, but she never treated me any differently.” “Yeah, but isn’t there a difference between being friends with a gay person and dating a pansexual person?” Owen shrugs whilst fishing a bundle of fairy lights out of a box. “It’s both very queer. I’m sure she’d be cool with it.” “I’ll see what subjects we’ll talk about tomorrow. Might tell her if it comes up.” “Good call, man.” I take a few more bundles of string lights and join Owen downstairs. While Jeremy hangs the white sheet and installs the projector, Owen and I decorate the place with all the Christmas lights we found. Warm whites, cold whites, and colorful ones. It serves for a fairytale looking glow throughout the entire garage. “Why didn’t we do this earlier?” I ask, admiring our work. “It really does give it a more calming atmosphere, doesn’t it?” Jeremy agrees. “Okay, I set up the projector, you just got to plug in a laptop and you’re good to stream your favorite or most romantic movies.” I pat him on the back, offering him a thankful smile. “Thanks, Jere. This was an amazing idea.” “Emily’s going to love it,” says Owen whilst looking up at the lights surrounding us. “Let’s go to sleep now and after school tomorrow, we’ll go shopping for food and set it all up for both of you to enjoy.” Jeremy’s almost giddy with excitement. It really is adorable. Jeremy hands Owen and I a sleeping bag and takes one for himself too. The three of us are used to sleeping on the floor of the garage. Many nights were spent like this ever since Middle School whether it was for sleepovers or when either Owen or I had problems at home. Jeremy often asked us to come over if he’d had a bad day too. Just fun little sleepovers between three best buddies. And they really are the best.

“Won’t be at the Music Store tonight. Find me at Jeremy’s garage to find out why. Wear something comfortable x” I send Emily the text after school just before the boys and I go grocery shopping in Jeremy’s fridge. He did ask his mom to buy a few extra snacks and things, saying it was for rehearsals. I’m glad he didn’t tell her about Emily and me yet. “Okay, we’re all done here!” Jeremy exclaims excitedly, looking at the finished product. My heart is beating faster and faster, scared Emily won’t like it, scared she doesn’t feel the same. “Hey, guys!” Emily’s voice startles me, and all three of us turn around to see her enter the garage. “What’s going o—” she freezes in place, noticing the fairy lights and the big screen. “Wha—” She looks adorable with her eyes bulging out and her mouth agape. I’m frozen for a moment. My feet don’t want to move even when I tell them to. “Charlie said you guys never had a proper date,” Owen springs into action, stepping forward and taking Emily’s hand, “So, we kind of put something together for you guys.” He leads her towards me. I doubt she’s even listening to what Owen’s saying as she’s still gazing around in surprise. “Hope you guys enjoy!” The two dip out of the garage, leaving Emily and me by ourselves. I let her take in the sight for a moment before grabbing her hand and leading her towards the mountain of pillows and blankets. “Charlie…” she breathes out, “This is beautiful.” She sits down while I go to the laptop to pick out a movie, settling on Aladdin since she made a comment about it the other day. I then hand her a glass of orange juice and place the snack platter between us whilst sitting down. “I wanted to do something special for you,” I tell her and clink my glass against hers. “Do you like it?” She nods her head vigorously. “I love it!” She leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Who’s idea was it to do the cinema and the fairy lights?” “Surprisingly, Jeremy’s,” Emily’s eyes widen in surprise. “Yeah, I was shocked too.” “Such a surprising guy, that one.” I nod in agreement. “Let’s watch the movie, shall we?” Emily nods her head and we settle into the cushions. At first, we just sit shoulder to shoulder until she starts fidgeting. “Not comfortable yet?” “I can’t find the right way,” she chuckles, crossing her legs. “Come here,” I open one arm as I lean into the cushions behind me. Her cheeks flush pink as she leans in and rests her head on my shoulder. “Better?” I drop my arm around her shoulders, pressing her closer to me. “Much better,” she mumbles. I’m pretty sure she can hear my heart beating quicker, especially when she puts her arm across my stomach. “Can I confess something?” she asks around halfway into the movie. I look down at her, finding her staring at me, and nod. “I totally watched Aladdin with Uncle Mitch yesterday because it reminded me of you.” I can’t help the smile on my face at how endearing she sounds right now. “I picked it for today because it reminded me of you too.” Emily chuckles slightly and sits up straight to take another sip of her orange juice. “You want to watch something else?” She shakes her head. “Let’s just talk for a while?” I agree, but I can’t help to feel nervous. “I feel like I don’t know that much about you yet, but I somehow feel like I’ve known you for years, you know?” “Yeah, I totally feel the same,” I confess, “Don’t people play that Twenty-Questions game on the first date?” She takes a piece of cheese and pops it into her mouth. “Yeah,” she says after swallowing, “That’s a good idea! I’ll start!” She presses her lips together and looks up at the ceiling, seemingly thinking of a good question to ask. “A simple one; what’s your favorite color?” The color of your eyes. “Uhm… blue, I think? Yours?” “Yellow! It’s a happy color,” she gives me the cutest smile I ever did see. “Your turn!” “Uhm… Do you have siblings?” “Nope, only child over here.” I raise my hand for a high five, saying, “Same, girl!” and she slaps her hand one mine excitedly. “What’s one secret you’re still keeping from your mom?” Her question stumps me. Not that I don’t know the answer, because I do. The nerves just suddenly settle in. She’ll be cool. “That I dated Owen for about a month last year and that I’m pansexual.” Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Pansexual is the attraction to people regardless of their gender, right? Just so I got it right.” “Yes, exactly,” I gaze at her, awaiting her response of running out of the garage and never coming back, but she stays put. “How was it dating Owen?” She asks instead. “Not great. I mean, Owen was a great guy and we had good moments together, his parents just… never really accepted his sexuality. They still don’t, so being with him was a little rough. We broke up because we realized it didn’t really fit, I guess? With his parents and the band and stuff…” “How did you start dating?” Our game of twenty questions has become a little one sided and about one topic in particular. “He’d just told his parents and they got into a fight, so he came here. Jeremy wasn’t here yet, but I was since I’d run away from my parents too after a fight. He had a panic attack, so to stop him from panicking, I kind of kissed him?” She smiles an endearing smile. “But it’s my turn to ask a question now!” “Right, sorry!” “If you ever got trapped on a deserted island with one friend, who would you choose?” I ask, hoping to be rid of all the questions about me and Owen. Though I love the fact she didn’t up and run. She stuck around and is actually interested to know more about my past relationships and my sexuality. She would only ask if interested. “Madi, probably. I—” she cuts herself off, her eyes widening as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh my God. Oh. My. God!” She scurries off the ground and grabs her backpack quickly. “Madi asked me to hang out tonight after my shift and I told her it was okay since we didn’t plan any band practices! I totally forgot! She’s going to kill me!” She fishes her phone out of her backpack and quickly types in a message while I get up from my spot. “I’m so sorry, Charlie!” She gives me an apologetic look. “It’s okay! We’ll do this over one day. Go to Madi!” A relieved smile cracks through right before she grabs my face and kisses me on the lips. Just a quick, passionate peck, and off she goes, leaving me a little woozy from the electricity that just zipped from her lips to mine and through my entire body. An amazing girl, that one.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92 @gingerxarmy @marinettepotterandplagg @lovesanimals @thequirkybookaholic @calamitykaty Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #jeremy shada #owen joyner #madison reyes #charlie x oc #oc emily fox #luke patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #julie molina

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goodbysunball · 3 years

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Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

#Astute Palate #Maraudeur #Astrid Øster Mortensen #Hugo Randulv #Nightshift #Sunhiilow #Petty Bunco #Förlag För Fri Musik #Ikuisuus

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 3 years

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Road Dogs: Metallica on Tour

Metallica‘s first ever gig took place at Radio City in Anaheim, California in March 1982. Their set list included primarily covers with only two original songs, “Hit the Lights” and “Fight Fire with Fire.” They did Savage’s ‘Let It Loose,’ Blitzkrieg’s ‘Blitzkrieg,’ Sweet Savage’s ‘Killing Time’ and four Diamond Head tracks. For diehard fans, this original lineup did not include Cliff Burton as of yet, but instead Ron McGovney. They eventually asked him to leave the group because the guitarist did not contribute anything of value. Another good reason came in the fact that Dave Mustaine fought with him repeatedly. James Hetfield would later say this about that show. “There were a lot of people there, maybe 200, because we had all my school friends and all Lars’ and Ron’s and Dave’s buddies. I was really nervous and a little uncomfortable without a guitar, and then during the first song Dave broke a string. It seemed to take him an eternity to change it and I was standing there really embarrassed. We were really disappointed afterwards. But there were never as many people at the following shows as there were at that first one.”

Metallica’s second and third show took place at the Whiskey a Gogo in Los Angeles. This venue would be where Hetfield and Lars Ulrich first heard future bassist Cliff Burton and his band Trauma. More recently, Ulrich revealed diary entries related to Metallica’s appearances there. "No sound check. Sound was awful. Played great myself, but the band as a whole sucked. Went down OK." The group opened for Saxon, who the drummer had met six months prior after sneaking backstage during one of their shows. After the concert, the monitor engineer asked Ulrich if he had ever heard of Diamondhead. “Of course, we have, we just played a bunch of their songs!" As it turned out, the crew member was only joking about Diamond Head. He would later go on to work for Metallica in the same position for 22 years.

On April 16, 1983 Metallica played its first show with new guitarist Kirk Hammett at the Showplace in Dover, New Jersey. They had begun recording their debut album Kill ‘Em All in Rochester, New York at that time. The set list included all original material that would land on that first album making up nine songs. Hammett had replaced Dave Mustaine, who held quite a bit of ill will towards him for years claiming in 1985 that Kirk ripped off all his guitar riffs, which got him noticed in the metal community. In defense of Hammett, he was simply trying not to make waves in his new group as Ulrich and Hetfield had definitely decided not to cut any contributions from Mustaine.

On March 5, 1983 Metallica played its first show with Cliff Burton at The Stone in San Francisco, who had replaced Ron McGovney. In 2018, a recording of the show came to light online, which you can listen to on YouTube. The lineup still included Dave Mustain as well taking place a month before the other band members would fire him. They performed 12 songs that night essentially previewing everything to be included on their debut album. At that time, James Hetfield was still struggling over whether he should sing lead. On the recording, you can tell why this became the case as his voice sounds incredibly scratchy with absolutely no technique whatsoever. The show also became memorable as a Cliff Burton debuted the future track, “Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth).”

Cliff Burton played his last show was Metallica in Stockholm, Sweden in September 1986 before his tragic passing. A few years ago, Metallica released a boxed set of rarities for their album, Master of Puppets, which included a recording of that final show. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett talked about their memories of that last concert with Cliff. Ulrich noted, “We played the show in Stockholm, and it went incredibly well. I think it may have been a rare case where we actually played an additional song that wasn’t on the set list, because the show was so good. That’s not something we did a lot then or now. So there was a good vibe.” Hammett would say this in the same interview, “It was significant because it was the first show where James played guitar again (Wrist Injury). He strapped on a guitar and was able to play the encore; I think it was “Blitzkrieg” or something. But I remember the five of us, including John Marshall, being really stoked James was back and playing and looking like was gonna make a pretty healthy recovery. I distinctly remember that show being good, and the feeling when we got offstage was really great and positive and forward-looking. Like, “Great, James is back in and it won’t be long ’til we’re back to our old selves again.”

In November 1986, Jason Newsted would play his first show with Metallica at the Country Club in Reseda, California. He did so in front of a sparse crowd because it had been a secret show for the group Metal Church. Newsted had played with the band for only a short time during rehearsals for the next album. James Hetfield introduced Newsted for the very first time in this way. “Welcome to the very, very secret Metallica gig that every fucker knows about! Here’s the new fucker right over here man, this is the guy… Jason Newsted, we fucking love him, man, so make him feel at home, alright? I want to have some fun tonight.” Their set list would consist of 14 songs from their first three album releases.

In the summer of 1992, Metallica decided to perform a few dates with Guns ‘N Roses. The hype for these shows represented the tour of the year, but the show in Montreal turned into a tragic affair. A pyrotechnic accident occurred as they performed “Fade To Black” causing second and third degree burns on half of singer James Hetfield's body. He recalled the incident, “I'm burnt – all my arm, my hand completely, down to the bone. The side of my face, hair's gone. Part of my back. ... I watched the skin just rising, things going wrong." Jason Newsted would remember that Hetfield looked like the Toxic Avenger from his vantage point. The group immediately cut the show short, so the singer could receive medical attention. He would later say that during the trip to the hospital a road crew member bumped his burnt hand leading him to punch the guy in his “nuts.” For fans still at the show, things only got worse as Guns ‘N Roses delayed getting on stage for two hours. Axl Rose probably only sang for 20 minutes before cutting his night short. GNR Had known what had happened to Hetfield, but they still phoned it in anyway. After that, 2000 people rioted in protest followed by several arrests. This night would lead to great animosity between the two groups for years continuing to this day, but it should be noted that Metallica acted professionally completing the tour with an injured Hetfield. Slash of Guns N’ Roses would later talk about the tour being a financial disaster for them. “Metallica was earning the exact same paycheck as we were every night but while they pocketed the whole thing, we were blowing 80 percent both on union dues for all of the overtime we cost ourselves going on late and on these stupid theme parties. It was just bad." Axl had spent extravagantly on backstage parties in an effort to impress members of Metallica.

In April 1999, Metallica recorded two performances on successive nights with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra led by Michael Kamen. The idea for such a concert had first come up when they worked with the composer on the Black Album song, “Nothing Else Matters.” He had approached them about such a collaboration, but never heard anything until years later receiving a phone call from Lars Ulrich. They filmed the live show at Berkeley Community Theater in San Francisco as Kamen had written additional material to supplement Metallica’s arrangements. The band also released two new songs specifically for the show, “No Leaf Clover” and “Human.” According to James Hetfield, This idea of combining heavy metal and classical music was originally an idea brought up by Cliff Burton, who had a strong background in both. One can see this throughout Metallica’s songwriting in their early years as the bassist relied on melody and instrumental qualities found in classical compositions like his favorite one, Johan Sebastian Bach. S&M would be released as a concert film and an album, with the latter reaching number one on the Billboard 200 chart.

In 1991, Metallica would play a concert in Russia that has become the stuff of legends because 1.6 million people watched it in person. The highlight of the show came when they played “Enter Sandman” as one could see Russian military personnel rocking out just as hard as anybody else. One must note that they were not the only band there that day as other artists included the Black Crowes, Queensryche, Motley Crue, and AC/DC. The Monsters of Rock Festival would only occur this one year in what would become the former Soviet Union. Motley Crue had played one of the early versions of the festival in 1984, but ironically Metallica had surpassed them as a more popular headliner by this time.

In August 2020, Metallica became the first rock act to perform a pre-recorded concert for Encore Live’s drive-in series. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, live concerts were canceled all over the world, so artists like Blake Shelton and Garth Brooks participated in this drive-in movie concert experience. Tickets to view this at your local drive-in cost $115 for up to six people per car. The show took place at an undisclosed location near their home in San Rafael, California.

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dannymayevent · 4 years

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Great work @paper-glasses completing the daily calendar! It was great seeing all of the different art works you came up with!

This fic was created by @phandom-phriend for your day 29 prompt Heat

*tw mentions of death, parental fights

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Ever since she saw those people on the TV screen with their loud instruments and voices, with their crazy hair colors and even wilder outfits, Ember knew she wanted, needed, to be part of that. Her parents were always quick to turn off the television when these bands came on, or change the radio station when something particularly loud or out of their comfort zones came on. But even at nine, that couldn’t stop Ember.

The second she had the chance, she found herself in the music room of her school. It wasn’t much, seeing as the school was for elementary students who couldn’t really grasp the idea of complexity quite yet, but she was desperate to get her small hands on something. Anything. The teacher was more than happy to help with her little hobby, taking the time to teach her things about rhythm and notes. Teaching her how each part worked to create the whole of what would later be heard on the radio by thousands.

Ember was entranced.

In middle school the very first thing she did was join the band. It wasn’t quite what she wanted, but even that tiny drum set served as the perfect outlet. Her parents had been fighting more and more lately, but because they were so absorbed in their own petty fights they didn’t even notice that she often returned home late from practice. It worked for her in that way, seeing as music still didn’t really seem to be their ‘thing’, but when she actually wanted for their eyes to look her way…

So Ember tried. She tried so hard to excel in all her classes, in her band performance, even in her chores to try and turn those angry glares into proud fondness like it used to be. Or maybe it was never like that and it was simply her child mind making the best of things. But it is a goal she strived to achieve in some sort of way from the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to bed each night.

In the end, her grades slipped. Ember was still trying so hard, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on her studies the same way that she focused on music. No matter what she tried, she just couldn’t get the same joy from reading or equations that she got from beats and lyrics. Sitting in a classroom could never have the same appeal as being on a stage, but it seems that kind of logic doesn't work on teachers or state tests. Who knew?

In eighth grade, a friend of hers introduced her to the guitar. It was something her dad kept propped up in the living room corner. The previous times she had been over, Ember had thought the item was merely a decoration to ‘tie the room together’. But when he found Ember staring at it and offered to teach her, that was a moment she could never forget for the rest of her life.

Feeling those strings under her fingertips. The way her heart beat with each sound that strummed from the instrument with only a slight movement of her hand. The way it sent shivers down her spine with the absolute feeling of power and pride dancing in her veins with every new note. This was her instrument. The guitar called to her in a way that drums and flutes and clarinets never had. She knew that from that moment on, she would do everything in her grasp to keep this feeling with her.

At sixteen she is no longer in band, but instead choir. They had recruited her during freshman year and she found that she enjoyed singing just as much as she enjoyed the guitar. The freedom and range it gave her, the chances for solos and the spotlight. For all those eyes on her. Her parents never came to a show, but when the stage lights flashed in her eyes so that the crowd became nothing but shadows, it was easy to pretend they approved. To pretend things were okay and that she would see them after the show. To prove her worth was more on the stage than it could ever be on paper.

Now she is also working part time at some stupid diner. It’s totally not her scene with the overly stressed coworkers and the customers that pretend to know their jobs better than they do. The grease from the food and the same six songs playing during her long shifts aren’t quite the excitement she’s looking for. Not to mention the tacky uniform that totally clashes with her bright red curls…

So if she keeps waiting for a Help Wanted sign to appear in the window of the record shop across the street, who really needs to know?

But it pays well. Well enough that she finally, finally, gets what she’s been wanting for so long. An electric guitar of her very own, colors customized to shine perfectly in the spotlights glow. Holding that gem in her hands for the first time nearly brought her to her knees. This, this right here in her thin hands, is her legacy. This shop in this small town is going to be the start of something great, it’s just that no one else knows it yet.

At eighteen it’s her senior year and she refuses to graduate without doing something she deems herself as great. So without a second thought she signs up for some talent show with a grand prize of $5,000 and a record deal. She has to drive three states away and skip a few school days to make the auditions, but school work and attendance has never stopped her before.

A week later, she got an email congratulating her on making it into the first round.

And just like that she began to shoot up to the top like a rocket going to the depths of space. Ember won round after round after round. Sure, seeing the crying faces of her competition that got sent home wasn’t a good feeling. But the feeling of being so close to stardom, being recognized as one of the best, let those negative feelings be drowned out. They all may have had dreams, but she did too. And she wasn’t going to give hers up for anything or anyone.

And then

She

Won

She won the competition, driving all over the country to different venues to perform her way to the top all by herself. All those hours practicing, all those moments where she chose not to give in when the rest of the world told her to, lead up to this moment. This very moment where the gold and silver confetti falls from the ceiling accompanied by matching balloons. This moment where the judges she's seen face to face countless times over the course of this journey walk up to her with a golden trophy. This moment where she gets to choose which record label she wants to sign to.

This moment where she is truly free.

Then came time for her first live performance. Her hair all tied up, makeup done in a way to leave an impression. Outfit displaying all the power and ferocity within. This would be her debut song to the world. The first pillar after a long string of stepping stones leading her to the fame she has desired since she was small. Her parents still aren’t in the crowd, but that’s okay now. Now she has fans that watched her journey cheering her name. And the only way she plans to go is up.

Except that didn’t happen. Halfway through her song there was an… accident. One of the stage crew members didn’t properly put out their cigarette backstage and started a small fire. It could have been easily handled, but the assistant who found it panicked and fanned it with the papers they had been holding, unintentionally making the flames bigger.

By the time Ember realized the heat wasn’t from her workout of working her stage magic, but from the hidden flames backstage, it was already too late. The rope they had used in place of the rusted metal beam that once held one of the spotlights burned.

The rope burned and the light came tumbling down, down, down. All she could do was look up into it as the bulb flickered out. Look up and hope against all hope that this wasn’t it. That there would be more to her story.

“... But I woke up in the ghost zone instead of some hospital bed. Years had already passed by the time I manifested and everyone… everyone had already forgotten about me. Just another news story. Well, they did change the safety measures for stage performances after that. So I guess that’s a win.” Ember sighed, looking out at the stars above them. Sometimes it hurt to look at them, all twinkling and bright above her.

Sometimes she worries that one might fall.

“I’m… sorry, Ember.” Danny said sadly. He knew that all ghosts had their story, a reason they remained. But hearing them never got easier. The pain of having lost everything just to be stuck in some kind of in-between is a burden that feels like it’s too much to bear, but there is no escaping it either.

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but you don’t have to be sorry.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“Well, you could let me perform my hypnotizing show without issues.”

Danny laughed and shook his head. “Fat chance. Unless you can do it without the whole mind control thing, I don’t think that can work.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Ember laughed back before standing up “Well, maybe one tame show wouldn’t be so bad.”

The halfa stood up after her and smiled. “Then it’s a deal. The mayor owes me one, so I’m sure I can get you a great stadium attendance.”

“You know…. You’re not so bad, kid.”

“Neither are you.”

The two stayed silent for a moment, simply looking out to the stars, both of them thinking about their broken dreams caused by being a ghost. So many things were lost or taken from them. But that’s the funny thing about being broken, sometimes your edges line up with someone else's. Sometimes with someone you would never even expect.

#dannymay2020 #death mention #fic

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bubmyg · 4 years

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try three times - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: lawyer!au, established relationship, fluff, angst (with a happy ending!!), the introduction of seokjin’s character, nonchronological with my other lawyer!yoongi drabbles (linked on my masterlist!)

word count: 4,027

summary: yoongi doesn’t want to admit that seokjin knows what he’s doing or the one about three different weddings and where he proposes (kind of) while smelling like fish.

It’s easy to be in a room full of people and feel as though you’re the only one that doesn’t have their shit together.

For example, the banquet hall was filled with twenty-somethings who had probably ate ramen out of peculiar objects more than they had with proper cutlery in the past six months, but you couldn’t tell it at first glance. The twenty-somethings tucked into tightly collared shirts and lace hemmed dresses mixed among actual adults, family and friends of the wedding party becoming one moving machine, sipping alcohol and munching on weirdly shaped cheese poked onto the end of toothpicks.

Yoongi’s conscious didn’t have the heart to remind him that no one has a clue what the hell they’re doing, too overcome with the way he was clutching his champagne glass and trying to figure out an equation in his head for the amount of time spent at a friend’s wedding versus how many people you were supposed to interact with for it to be considered acceptable.

This is Seungcheol’s fault, his conscious instead convinced him, eyes narrowing on the aforementioned groom as he gripped a tight hand with a brand new diamond band strapped on one finger around his bride’s waist. Of anyone in the room, the bride and groom seemed to have their shit together. Seungcheol was graduating a semester early. They’d just moved into an apartment together. His wife had recently gotten a full time position with her summer internship.

Yoongi, on the other hand, had just switched his major, twice, only to end back up in what he originally started in. He would be a semester behind on credits because of it. He’d spent a strange three months in a fraternity. Law school entrance exam textbooks occupied every square inch of his desk. His shortlist of schools had only been narrowed to ten. He hadn’t touched his personal statement since high school.

And then there was you, a year old addition in his life that seemed to fill in all the puzzle pieces of things he wasn’t. He glanced at your empty chair to remind himself that you’d disappeared twenty minutes ago to get more to drink and to grab him a slice of cake, only to be held up in three separate conversations. He’d made it to get more champagne in less than thirty seconds.

He gulped at the sparkling liquid in his glass to feel it bubble in the pit of his stomach.

A paper plate appeared in his peripheral, something white with pink and gold chevrons racing down the center of it, geometric patterns cut off by the slap of white cake resting on the center of it. There was a plastic fork curling out of the treat, fingers gripped on the end of it as the utensil tore off a sizable chunk and lifted into the air.

“Mingyu cut the piece for me,” You muffled through the bite you plopped on your tongue, handing him back the fork to plop back into your chair, “Told him it was for you and he gave you a deluxe piece.”

Yoongi hummed, absently replacing your grip on the fork. He drug one pointed prong through a small blotch of icing that had fallen away from the cake. “I’ll have to tell him thank you later…”

“I told Jihoon to mix up the playlist a little bit.”

You were referencing the auburn headed audio engineer major who was hidden behind an array of open laptops and a giant headset at the front of the reception hall. Yoongi had a feeling he knew what you meant, but he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes anyway. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” You leaned forward in your chair, nudging Yoongi with a soft grin, “I wore closed toed shoes for a reason. Need some non-toe breaking slow dances with my man.”

“Nice try, but I don’t think you’re going to get Jihoon to leave his equipment all alone, especially not with a drunk Soonyoung lurking around—”

You giggled a little bit but there was a sizable amount of offense held in the downturn of your eyebrows as you caught the apex of Yoongi’s elbow and tugged. When he glanced at you, cheeks full of cake, you shook your head, “I meant you, nerd. I want to dance with you.”

Yoongi paused in the next bite of cake he was cutting, blinking at your intense gaze. Something inside him panicked even if his outside demeanor remained calm. The mix of emotions within him clearly rained confusion in you, especially when he cleared his throat and went to set his plate aside.

“You know, I have to take that practice exam tomorrow morning. Jin is supposed to drive with me and I don’t want to, you know, hold him up or anything,” He averted his gaze the more hurt yours grew. He wrung his fingers together in his lap, uncrossing his legs to lean forward, still avoiding your eyes, “I was thinking we leave here in a second, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Yoongi heard it in your voice. He didn’t need to look up. After a moment, he saw you stand, dress fluttering past your knees in his peripheral, “Are you done with your cake?”

His eyes closed, knowing he couldn’t salvage your feelings by changing his mind, sucking it up, and asking you for a dance. Without a word, he nodded.

You disappeared with the plate in hand just as the first slow song of the night began to play.

“You have to work,” He told the string of fairy lights currently suspended by a few stick on hooks. Deft fingers continued to fumble at the battery packs, turning the batteries inside a second time, forcing the lids shut, nail curling into the on and off switch. Nothing.

Frustration made the battery pack, the heaviest part of the entire device, slip from his grasp, tumbling to the mountain of pillows pressed against your headboard and effectively yanking all his hard work with the lights from the wall. All that was left was a sad wooden shadow of your initials, nailed into the apartment walls. With no lights.

Yoongi had spent the greater part of the day decorating. The extensive list on your planner in the tiny kitchen said you wouldn’t be home until after dinner and he’d been determined to get something done.

It’d only been a few weeks since you’d moved into your first place together, just a week since he’d started his first required internship of law school and just a day since your classes had returned. Thus, plastic coverings still sat taped to the television and the window of the microwave and the pull on the blinds. Unpacked boxes made a mountain where there was supposed to be a dining table, an item you didn’t have nor could you afford.

But Yoongi could afford his day off to dig through the boxes to find all your favorite trinkets (picture frames, fairy lights, candles, the tiny porcelain cat you’d bought him as a joke) and arrange them accordingly. He’d finally set up the printer in the room you’d designated the office just to print off some of your favorite pictures together, losing a few nails along the process but managing to stuff the pictures into frames and scatter them along the walls.

The pair of your initials next to each other had been his own touch, a quick trip into a craft store where he felt rather underwhelmed by the selection and overwhelmed by the price he’d covered with his debit card. He’d hung them above the bed, center on the wall and the headboard, the dark wood matching the navy pillows you’d stacked to give, as you’d said, some sense of put togetherness.

A thought had entered his mind when he was shuffling through the options in the middle of the craft store. It would be so much easier if we shared initials. Just one giant M in the middle of the room…

He’d shied away from that thought when he finally located the curve of your surname.

Yoongi mounted the bed with a wheeze from both his lungs and the worn mattress springs, effectively ruining the decorative pillow mountain as he dug for the string of fairy lights. A similar strung together list of curse words left his lips as he pried at the battery pack again, the flower shaped lights dancing against his short clad legs until there was a gentle knocking on the bedroom door and he dropped them again.

“Bubs?” You took one step into the room before pausing, aweing around the space. There was a glint in your irises, one he could see from his compromising position, “What are you doing?”

“Can’t get your fairy lights to work,” Yoongi offered shyly, pink creeping to the back of his neck. “I think they’re the ones that were in your dorm, but—”

“If you used the batteries that were already in them, that’s why. They’re like three years old,” The mattress swayed as you clambered on to stand next to him, touching his hand where it had curled around his neck. You laced your fingers together, letting your arms dangle between each other as you again did a sweep of the room. “You did all this?”

An embarrassed sound of affirmation left Yoongi’s throat, watching you carefully. He nearly stumbled into the wall and his carefully hung lettering when you looped your arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

“Thank you,” You murmured, kissing his throat.

Yoongi was hesitant in the way he fit his arms around you, subconsciously leaning into your touch.

Just as soft, he nodded, “I’m trying…”

No amount of wine seemed to moisten his tongue where it was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

You were effortlessly gorgeous, as always, wrapped up in some emerald sequins number and a devastating smile that made his heart hurt worse than he could ever properly articulate. Yoongi’s cheeks hurt from introducing you, always coming with a shy yet wide smile when his classmate in question made some sort of playfully snide comment about how you were far too beautiful for him.

At Seokjin’s wedding, it was a bit easier to feel less overwhelmed. Yoongi didn��t know everyone, but he knew a lot of people. Despite Seokjin’s career path not exactly diverging to where Yoongi’s seemed to be going, they were still classmates and thus still shared a lot of the same acquatences, professors, advisors, coworkers. He knew what he was doing for the foreseeable future. He’d recently passed the certification exam, marking him as someone who could now, legally, practice law. He had a job waiting and available for him, one while not exactly ideal would suffice to get his foot in the door and his rent paid for the next few months.

Yoongi knew you’d be there, too, in his future. Even if his tongue dried every time he thought of how.

Except he didn’t have to ponder the never ending question of rings and proposals and weddings while attending a wedding. He just had to figure out how to ask you to dance. He’d never forgiven himself for hurting your feelings at Seungcheol’s wedding.

It was you that was trailing him the entire evening, him being the connection between most of the people at the reception and yourself. You were the stranger this time, not each of you mutually connected to the guests at the wedding. Yet, it didn’t stop you from becoming fast friends with Yoongi’s classmates and professional connections alike, dragging each of you into twenty minute long conversations about the state of nonprofit litigation and the staggering rate of black cats put down by animal shelters.

Breaks between people gave Yoongi the opportunity to wet his tongue with a splash of sacchrine wine, poke his tongue around the tulip shape of his lips, and attempt to ask, no matter the music playing through the loud speakers overhead, only to be interrupted again. And again.

And again.

Yoongi thought you were free by the time you’d nearly circled back around to your table where Taehyung and Namjooon were engaged in some sort of debate that involved the plastic knives from their baked chicken. He stopped you before you could sit, dragging crooked fingertips down the inside of your wrist to lace into your fingers and tug.

The muscle felt heavy inside his mouth and he couldn’t bring himself to hold your eye contact as his heart hammered wildly inside his chest, reminding him suddenly of all the things. Nearly five years together. Two apartments together. Both of your names on the car lease.

“Yoongi,” Your thumb swiped over his knuckles, immediately calming the roar of blood in his ears. A frown had slowly worked into the creases on either side of your lips, and you tugged back on his hand. “Is everything okay?”

He was a half second away from blurting out his impulse request, not caring about the nagging part of his subconscious that noted your open toed shoe choice for the evening when your grip was falling away from his.

“Sorry, Yoongi!” Seokjin cheered as he spun a drunk circle in the opposite direction with you curled tightly in his embrace, “I have to steal a dance from your girlfriend.”

Yoongi watched as happiness easily overtook your features, clinging to Seokjin’s shoulders as you threw your head back at whatever rambles were leaving from his friend’s stupor.

“Just wanted to know if you wanted to dance,” Yoongi murmured to himself, letting his arm fall limp to his side, “I hate myself for hurting your feelings every day that I can’t get my shit together and just—”

“Yoongi,” It was Namjoon saying his name, waving around his plastic knife. “You okay?”

Taehyung ignored the obvious discomfort on his friend’s features as he approached the table with dragging steps, still muttering to himself.

“What do you think about sporks?”

“Where are you going?”

The droopy bucket hat in Yoongi’s grip crumpled more, keys still clinking together where they dangled from his free hand. He turned cheek to shoulder where you stood in the threshold with your arms crossed.

“Fishing with Jin,” He lamented, “I told you that a week ago.”

“A week ago we didn’t have a closet full of laundry to do. Or a sink full of dishes to get done.”

You bristled at his involtunary check of his watch. “It’s only seven in the morning. We have all day to get those things done. I’ll help you when I get back…”

“I have to have our loan papers into the bank by tomorrow morning. Are we going to finish those too when you get back?”

“Yes,” Yoongi said simply, “There isn’t that much left to do on them.”

“For yours there isn’t. You’re the primary signee. I have virtually the entire packet left to complete,” After a second of staring angrily at him, you shook your head, “You know what, I’ll just do it all while you’re gone. Have fun.”

He knew you weren’t upset about a packet of questions you had to complete in order to approve you as a secondary individual on the loan for the house you two were planning on purchasing. You were upset about having to fill out an entirely different set of paperwork based on your relationship status. You’d voiced it tightly while handing him a second pen the night before when the ink in his had ran out.

“This would be so much easier if we were married,” You’d tried to smile when his gaze flicked up to yours but he caught it anyway. He was hurting your feelings. Again. Not because of the paperwork. Because of what the paperwork implied.

Because of the contents of the tiny velvet box that had been shoved into the front pouch of his laptop bag for the better part of six months, idle, without a finger to reside on.

The shut of the door behind him was just as soft as his pained, “Bye…”

Yoongi, numbly, let the reel release, watching the reflection of the blue tinted line as it soared into the water, landing yards away from him with a soft plop. He set the reel in his hands, gently turning as he watched the end of the line where it disappeared into the lake create tiny ripples as it slowly came back toward where he stood on the shore.

“How did you know?” Yoongi blurted suddenly.

Seokjin didn’t miss a beat, “Well, generally, the fish is big enough that you can feel it tug back on the line. You have to set the hook so it doesn’t get off but don’t let it swallow it because that’s not good and—”

“No,” Yoongi stopped spinning the reel to drop his pole into the stick made stand he’d pushed into the mud on the bank. Both his fingers went to his face, dragging down on his cheeks. “How...how did you know when it was right to propose?”

“Ohh,” Seokjin stayed silent when he cast his pole again, clicking gentle as he turned the tiny device. “That’s what this is about. Has she said something?”

“No. She doesn’t have to. I can just tell.”

“Is marriage something you’ve talked about?”

“Yes.”

“Is it something you both want.”

“Yeah…”

“Do you love her?”

Yoongi’s hands fell away from his face and his features screwed up starting from his nose and ending at the part of his mouth where he, almost offended, affirmed, “More than anything else.”

“Then what’s stopping you? You could elope tonight, if you want,” Seokjin eyed Yoongi as he brought in an empty hook, letting it dangle from a second in mid air before tossing it back out into the water, “We’ll be your witnesses or whatever—”

“I’m scared.” Seokjin stopped talking upon Yoongi’s blunt statement, quietly turning away at his reel until Yoongi continued, floodgates now let loose, “I can’t hurt her feelings like I continue to, but what if it’s worse when we get married. There’s never been anyone else and there won’t be anyone else. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing because of it.”

“You’re a lovesick fool,” Seokjin confirmed, “Hey, your pole is jiggling and as much as your my friend and whatever, I’d rather not lose it, so—”

Yoongi begrudgingly picked up the pole where it was bouncing around in the makeshift twig holder, slow at first in turning at the handle but releazing whatever was on the other end was going to need more effort from him. He grunted into the next few turns, “I can’t even fish right.”

“You never could. You waste my bait everytime we go out,” Seokjin shrugged, “But you try. And I love you, in like, a brotherly way. That’s all I care about when I ask you to come along with me.”

“Is this your weird analogy to tell me that I won’t know until we try and that love is all that matters in the end?” Yoongi stumbled in trying to tug back on whatever the massive object was he was bringing in.

“No,” Seokjin sat aside his pole, striding across the bank to slide the pole from Yoongi’s grasp. “I’m telling you to go propose to your soon to be wife while I get this moss off.”

“How do you know it’s moss and not a record breaking catfish?”

“It’s moss. Go.”

Yoongi found you curled up on the couch surrounded by half folded laundry, your eyes clearly lined in the slightest tints of pink and red, the loan application half open on the floor. He wasted no time, not wanting to hear your garbled inquiries as to whether he’d had fun or not because frankly, with how you were at the moment, he didn’t deserve to have had fun.

“I’m not giving you this, yet.”

Your attempt at a friendly expression morphed into a confused squint. “What?”

He dug the box from his sweatpants pocket, flicking it open to show you a glimpse of the glittering jewelry inside. “I’m not giving you this, yet,” He repeated. He approached you, knocking aside a stack of his hoodies to kneel in front of you, hand engulfing your knees while the latter placed the ring box on your thigh, “but I’m going to. Soon.”

You laughed in spite of yourself, gentle at first and then bitter on the end, “I’m not upset because you haven’t proposed to me yet, Yoongi. I don’t like the implications of that.”

“I know I’m hurting your feelings. All the time,” He lifted a finger when you went to protest, “You don’t have to spare my feelings, of all things.”

“I try really, really hard for you. All the time. But that’s not a guilt trip, I know I need to do better. I’m trying right now, to give you a glimpse of what I should have done a long time ago.”

“I know that,” He let you interrupt him this time as the tiniest of tears lipped down the slope of your nose, “I’ve never doubted that. I just thought you’d changed your mind.”

Yoongi wanted you to vocalize your feelings, so he squeezed your knee and offered, “Changed my mind about what, love?”

“About us. Our future,” You shrugged, casting your gaze aside, “Not that marriage is the end all be all or that it’s just a title that helps with some tax information it’s just...”

“What you want for us,” Yoongi nodded, “It’s what I want too. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I didn’t really think you had it’s just...hard to not let myself think those things sometimes.”

“I’m sorry I ever made you doubt any sort of commitment I want to have in our relationship,” Yoongi leaned forward to chastely kiss away the droplets of tears clinging to the pouted round of your bottom lip. “I’m sorry I haven’t been trying hard enough for this, either.”

“I love you,” You cupped his cheeks, keeping his lips a fraction from yours.

“I can’t wait to propose to you,” He countered.

“And I can’t wait to say yes.”

Yoongi didn’t hear the words the DJ was projecting through speakers stationed at all corners of the reception hall. He was too focused on the swirl of lights on the dance floor, ones that had dimmed into a glittery gold and ceased to move in the calculated circles they’d previously been completing. The back part of his mind wondered did we pick that color? Gold matches pink...and then he glanced at the baby pink bow tie clipped onto his collar, one he subconsciously straightened as the DJ continued to chatter on.

He contemplated the color of the lights and the flavor of the cake icing and the extensive guest list in which half hadn’t RSVP’ed for the reception but now milled among everyone else and kept taking him away from you to chat. It was silent now, no one around him except others members of the wedding party around him, and he didn’t have to contemplate whether to seek someone out for conversation or search his subconscious for the name of your cousins’ significant other. He knew his next move, bending at the waist in front of the high backed chair you perched in and holding out a gentle palm for you even as the DJ continued to chatter over the soft applause of the guests.

“Hey,” Yoongi murmured.

You smiled under the gold lights as they cast shadows down the contours of your features, “Hi.”

“I like your ring,” His fingers crooked when you placed your hand in his to fiddle at the diamond studded band.

“I like your last name,” You squeezed his hand.

Yoongi’s lips covered your fingers, gentle in pecking each one, spending extra time on the one where diamonds reflected in the gold.

His voice muffled on the bend of your digits. “May I have this dance?”

You stood at that, gripping his fingers tightly.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #fic: lawyer yoongi

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nosferatyou · 4 years

Text

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 1 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: Rosalie and her band “By Elliston” move from Nashville to Detroit to continue their music careers and move away from their demons. Rosalie notices an unhappy face in the crowd of their first show, and is instantly drawn to him. While she doesn't mind that hes easy on the eyes she does mind his less than stellar attitude about their music.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Drug use, language, and mentions of abuse.

Notes: Well this has been brewing for A WHILE. I’ve been everywhere deciding on a plot, but after tedious planning this is finally a reality. I hope the 5 Jack White fans on here enjoy this. This will be a series so strap in folks. We got young jack. we got old jack. we got everything in between. (also series names are hard) Enjoy! Appreciate all the research i did!

Chapter Two

“Do you want another?”

He holds his hand above me, his dark eyes burning holes into me, he pulls back more as if ready to strike again. As if on command, I recoil from the movement, feeling smaller than I ever had.

My head shoots up, suddenly back in Zoot’s coffee house. I blink a couple of times, trying to wake myself up. I couldn’t remember what she asked.

“What?” I asked her, phasing back into reality again, and not what was a horrific nightmare.

Sat next to me was my best friend and singer in our band was Harry, or Harriet if you want to be technical. Her head was held high, and she was practically jumping out of her skin with excitement, she seemed more than ready for our first show in a new town.

She moved one of her two shots in front of me and asked again.

“Are you deaf, Lee? I asked if you wanted another shot before we go on.”

I quickly sat up and grabbed it off the makeshift bar, anything to shake off what I was feeling.

We clinked our drinks together, and she yelled out a toast over the crowd of people behind us.

“To fresh starts and new stomping grounds!”

We clinked our drinks and quickly downed them, both of us coughing from our burning throats, but as soon as we saw our red faces, we burst out into laughter.

“We are horrible at shots, aren’t we?” I said in between wheezes of laughter.

“We truly are.” She paused and grabbed the bottle. “One more for good luck!.”

It seems like this is the night, if any, to drink.

We’d just gotten to Detroit. Like just got here a week ago and are already booking shows. We all decided to move her for reasons I won’t mention, but I’ll just say that we needed to switch up our scene a bit.

Our band “By Elliston” had grown pretty big in the Nashville scene, we played pretty frequently at the Exit/In. Which is not the biggest venue in the world, but it means something for the Nashville scene. I mean, we technically shared a stage with Muddy Waters and BB King, so that’s at least something to brag about.

We were known in the Nashville punk scene and had made some significant headway, but thanks to shitty people and our big egos, we decided to move to Detroit. Known for its great music and cars.

And here we are at Zoot’s Coffee shop, which is arguably a coffee shop honestly. Off a dark street, that no person with money would venture down, and the outside seems like nothing is out of the ordinary, it’s just a house on a street. But the inside. Its a home, its a coffee shop, and venue for anyone who has an instrument.

Its packed wall to wall with people, barely any standing room, especially near the stage, which is just a raised corner of the living room. Its the perfect venue for any rock band. Small and loud.

We (being the band and me) all lived for music, and it is our life’s blood.

I grew up in a very southern home and was always surrounded by music, thanks to my dad. Id never met a man who loves Johnny Cash more than him or country music for that matter. Cash would always play through the house, or Hank Williams, Waylon Jennings. That kind of thing. However, I can’t stand to listen to any of them now. Overplayed and over appreciated is what I always said.

That did spark something in me. I started playing guitar, thanks to my dad… and then I picked up the bass and then drums. And so on and so on. The moral is that If you hand me any stringed instrument ill know how to play it.

The other girls. Jo, Harriet, and Ezra. All got into good music when they were in high school, which also when we all met. Thanks to the high school band or orchestra. I played violin, as did Jo and Harriet, Ezra played the stand-up bass and continues with the bass to this day.

Now we’ve all moved on the from hot cross buns and into a world of rock and roll. We used to be terrible, covering a lot of Alice in Chains and Nirvana.

Graduating class of ‘93 for all of us, and we lived in a world of grunge. Five years later and we’ve since moved on from our teenage ways. We’ve embraced the blues and everything around it. However, we get a bit heavier than our inspirations, with my heavy fuzz and Harriet’s raspy yelps. With the look of punk dads (a lot of fun button-ups, dark makeup, and Dr. Martens boot) and the sounds of 4 angry ladies, we tore up Nashville.

We played a lot of house shows, met many a band, lost many a group, met a dumb boy who won’t be named (its John), and had a lot of fun tearing up the Nashville scene.

As we grew, we played bigger venues, the show of ‘96 at The End being the staple of our career. We’d never played as good as we did then, and none of us are convinced we’ll play as well as we did that night.

Either way, we were thrust forward, and our movement grew, we were making money from our shows, plus we played bigger venues. The Exit/In and The East Room, to name a couple. Last month we felt we needed a change of scenery to grow. As incredible, the Nashville scene is, its also quite small. Few venues and fewer people. That’s the other girl’s excuse, at least.

We scrounged up what we could, found an apartment here, and moved as soon as we could. Unlike the others, I had to burn some bridges to get here, but more will be made here. We scooped out the scene the moment we arrived and set up a show here, and we are all buzzing to perform again.

“So, who are we opening for again?” I asked as we headed to our van to start and unload our gear.

“The White somethings.” Jo absentmindedly answered, wrapping her jacket around herself for warmth.

Harriet quickly cut in, “The White Stripes, you mean.” Correcting her.

We all arrived at our shared van and started grabbing our mess of cables and cases.

Harriet continued, “I’ve been asking around all night about them, you know. To learn about the enemy and such.”

Jo popped her head up from the front seat and asked, “When have you had the time to ask around? I was with you literally all night.”

Harriet picked up her small load for the night and parked a seat on the car next to ours, lighting a cig while she sat.

“I have my ways.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows before taking a long drag.

“Anyways, here’s what I’ve learned. They’ve been around a year, the drummer learned when they got together, and guitarist leads the show.” She spoke with her ever-present dramatics, waving the cig around after every word.

“They can’t be that good if the drummers new, and they’ve only been playing a year.” Said Ezra, who was effortlessly carrying what seemed to be the world’s most massive bass amp.

“I don’t know, Z. It seems agreed that they know how to rock a room.” Harriet pipped up.

“What does it mean for us then?” Asked Jo who’s joint was lit and already in her mouth, and arms were full with various drums. Explains why she was digging around the front seat.

I quickly cut in, not about to let them get nervous over a baby band. “Absolutely nothing. We’ve got six years on them. These Detroit kids won’t know what hit them, we’re from music city for god’s sake.”

“That’s the spirit, Lee! Now get your asses inside so we can set up.” Harriet popped off the car and started walking towards the door, beckoning us towards her.

“Feel like helping us speed up the process, Harry?” Joked Jo.

“You’re big girls. I’m gonna go try and spot the enemy.” She yelled back to us.

“Oh, have fun, we will just be here carrying your band!” I yelled out.

“I knew I could count on you, darling!” She called out, throwing a wink and cigarette butt our way.

When we had finally reached the stage, the already crowded room had doubled in bodies. While most bands would be shaking in their boots, it only spurred us on more. While we all have our fair share of disagreements, we have one thing in common. Our shared headspaces before a show. All ready to take on anything, and our confidence is unwavering. The bigger, the better. It’s honestly what’s kept us together this whole time.

Now all eyes were on us, and it was a tough crowd, it was dead silent. The girls and I all exchanged a look and nodded. I always started us off. We had a set opener, it never changed and worked every time, but after that was a free for all. I usually took charge and just chose whatever I was feeling, but if not me, then Harriet. The other two just flowed with whatever we threw their way.

I always started first with the heavy riff, joined in by Ezra, then Jo, and finally Harriet.

The riff is what pulled them in, and it was always quite the sight. I got fully into it every time. It was dark, straightforward, and full of fuzz and feedback.

By the time Harriet joins in its mayhem, I speed up and play power chords. It’s not slow, but it’s not so fast that it’ll make your head spin.

As the short show progressed, we felt like how we used to feel every night. Pure joy, which is what we all fucking needed.

We improvised. I mashed up whatever songs I even threw in a little Stooges to thank the locals for letting us play. Though I did notice the gaze of one oddball in the back, who was just… watching.

While that doesn’t sound weird, it was sure out of the ordinary. He sat in the back, arms crossed leaned against the wall. The whole mysterious boy schtick was down pact. He wasn’t scowling, but he didn’t seem happy. It was off-putting and kept my focus over towards that corner of the room, but didn’t hinder the performance. Maybe it fueled it.

The show couldn’t have gone better, though. The crowd did not hide their whoops and hollers when we finished our last song of the set. I was already riding that performance high and will be for the rest of the night.

“Thanks for a great first night, Detroit! We’re “By Elliston,” and we hope to see you next time!”

Screamed out Harriet for a final goodbye as we headed off the stage, their applause carrying us off the small stage.

The moment we put down our instruments, we about took each other out, tacking one another to the ground.

As tradition carries, after every show, we used to just aggressively group hug, but over time we’ve grown more and more… excited. At one of our last shows at The Exit/In, I accidentally knocked out Jo by slamming into her too hard. If that gives any frame of reference to what our dog piles look like now.

“Ladies. If every show goes somewhat like that here, I think we will rule this scene.” Ezra said from the bottom of the pile, her words garbled from the mass of bodies.

“Alright, Lee, get your ass off the top, you’re gonna snuff me out down here.”

Without much warning, she slid out from underneath us, and the rest of us went down to the ground, causing all of us to erupt in laughter.

Once we all straightened ourselves out, we went to the van and had a celebratory cig, the first of many “celebratory” cigs of the night,

To my right was Harriet leaning against the tail light, and Jo and Ezra were sitting in the van next to me. Harriet broke the silence.

“You know I missed this, Lee. I’m glad you’re back.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean Har-” While talking I’d noticed three figures a few cars over walking to their own. My eyes widened in surprise. I grabbed Harriet’s arm suddenly and dragged her in with the rest of us.

“Shut up. It’s him.”

“What I wasn’t even talking-” she stopped and sat up to face, she wasn’t upset, but she sure looked confused. “Wait, who is “Him?”

I looked around to check to see if he could hear.

“I saw him when we were playing. He kept just… staring at me. It was weeeird.”

“Why’d you pull me in the car then??”

“I panicked! It was just weird!”

Ezra peaked her head out of the car in curiosity and asked. “Which one is it, the young blondie or the black-haired beauty?”

“Gah Jesus, not the child, Ezra! It’s the hot one.”

Harriet whipped her head out of the car to look at them, speaking a bit too loudly.

“Lee, you need to start off saying it was a HOT stranger! You have my interest now.”

“I’m going to kill both you. Get your dumbasses back in the car.”

We huddled back up, Harriet has a look in her eye that I don’t like.

“So, what’s the plan of action here, Lee?” Asked Harriet.

“Nothing. He’s a scowler. Sure a hot one at that, but if he can’t enjoy what we make, then what’s the point? When we played that stooges song, he looked like he was going to blow his top.”

“I think you’ve missed the point here, Lee. Point one, You’re fresh out of a toxic sludge of a relationship. Point two, hot stranger. And finally. Point three, he’s a hot stranger in a band. I’m not passing up this opportunity.”

She gave us a wink, took a final drag of her cig, and hopped out of the car. She was going over to them.

“Harriet, you fucker don’t you dare,” I said with gritted teeth. “I’ve tackled you once today, and I’ll do it again.”

She chuckled. “You’re all talk, kid. I’m off to make friends!”

“Bastard!” I yelled, leaping out of the car and towards her. I was too late, she just about ran over to them, and I was quickly in tow behind her.

“Well, look at that, Lee! New people. Hi there, I'm Harriet, but you can call me Harry. and this is Rosalie.” She extended her hand towards the three strangers.

“Its Lee actually, she’s just an asshole.”

All of them looked slightly taken aback. They were sure as hell wasn’t expecting her hand in their face, or two random ladies in their space. The newly named “hot stranger” was the first to speak up. He seemed rightly hesitant.

“I’m Jack, and this is my sister, Meg. This over here is my nephew, Ben. He’s our pinball wizard. Or Roadie in technical terms.”

“Well, good to meet Y’all!” Once she shook ben’s hand, he spoke up. Man he was young. Was he maybe 16? Not over 18 is the point.

“You guys played a hell of a show. The Stooges? Blues? You’re going to give these two a run for their money.”

Jack shifted on his heels when ben mentioned this. Same face as before, and little less friendly than introductions.

“Well, its all that Tennessee blood in us. Now we arent from Memphis, but Nashville’s close enough, right?” Harriet winked at the kid. His cheeks flushed a deep red.

Jack shifted his eyes back to me, but they wander somewhere else.

I clear my throat, he snaps his head up and makes eye contact with me, a small smirk falls on his face.

“Well, you all seem busy, so Harriet and I are going to go back over there. Have a good show.”

I grab her arm and try to drag her away casually.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She whisper yells to me. We find ourselves on the other side of our van, out of their sight.

“Lee, You have never been one to shy away from new people. Especially men. Remember us, fresh out of high school? You practically had a different man in your bed every night. That whole nervous persona is new. Go seduce a hot stranger!”

“Jesus, Harriet! Lower your goddamn voice! First off its Jack, And yes I know. Different times though. I’m not going to go over there in front of his sister and prepubescent nephew to try and get in his pants.”

“Aw, come on, Lee! It’d be fun! Plus, you need a fucking rebound, girl.”

“Okay, well, talk me into this when its not a family reunion.”

“You got yourself a deal, Rosalie.”

We started to make our way back to the other girls.

“Alright, ladies, let’s go catch our headliner,” I said, opening the van doors. A plume of smoke rolled out of it the moment the doors opened. I grabbed the joint from Ezra, taking a hit before going inside. I handed it back to the faded bass player and headed back inside.

#Jack White #the white stripes #jack white x oc #jack white fic #nosferatyou writes #if i can be so bold #series #meg white #ben blackwell #nashville #detroit #jack white x reader #the raconteurs #the dead weather #masterlist

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