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sashi-ya · 3 years

Note

Hiya ! If requests are still open for this week could I ask for Marco with a tiny fem!s/o with a size kink ??? Thank you so much and hope you’re having a great day 💕💕💕

Hi darling!! Of course! I hope you like it ♥ Thank u for your request and all of the support! Have a great weekend ♥ ~

NSFW ~ Marco x F! Tiny! Reader ~ You Are So Tight For Me ~

TW: NSFW. Size kink. Best friends to lovers. Sex at a party. Unprotected sex. Kind of rough sex.

WC: 1.7K

Tag list: @undercoverweeeb @mistyroselove

Marco and you have always been good friends, really good friends. You love him as much as he loves you, yet, you too never ever had any romantic or sexual interaction before. You are so close, people usually think you two are a couple, yet you aren’t. Still…

You > Oiiii pineapple birb, are you up for tonight’s party at Izo’s? Pineapple Birb > Oi Tontatta, yeah. Be ready at 8.

“Tontatta? What does he mean with “Tontatta”??... OH…” you say while throwing the phone to the bed and realizing he was mocking you by your short height. “You fucking giant pineapple…” you grunt as you enter the shower.

-----

The sound of Marco’s pick up horn announces he is already waiting for you outside. You take your bag and keys and head out.

“G’Night” you say, struggling to enter the vehicle. “Why the hell did he buy such a big car?” you think while stretching your arm to close the door. Of course, you fail in the first attempt so the doctor bends over you and closes the door. Marco is not huge but compared to you it’s pretty big. He pats your lap, strongly, laughing. “Why the hell are you so tiny?” he says. And you can’t help but squirm a little on the seat thinking about his huge hand over your thigh in a friendly way that you wish was with other intentions.

Rolling your eyes you tell him to stop making fun of you and start driving. “Fineee” he says and hits the gas. Music blasting suddenly makes you forget about the touch of his hand over your thigh and you two sing -shout- “Good 4 U” by Olivia Rodrigo.

Marco parks over Izo’s house. He descends the pick-up and helps you. “Jump to pappa” he says, laughing. You frown and burn holes into his eyes. “Shut up” you say as he snatches you from under your shoulders and puts you down on the street. You are surprised, he has never helped you like this. Still, you act annoyed, “Who does he think he is to treat me like this?” you think.

Walking towards the door, you can see from the window the shadow of a boy wearing a straw hat running around. “Luffy” Marco and you say, laughing.

The night goes by with alcohol and food, so much food. Sanji cooked the equivalent of three full restaurants just for you -specially Luffy-. Everybody is a little tipsy, and so do you. Kiku, Izo’s sister, comes up with the idea of watching a horror movie. Everybody, except Chopper and Usopp agreed. Law and Robin decided the title, and oh boy, that was gore…

The boys set up the projector, and everybody takes his place. Sanji and Zoro begin fighting because apparently, they were “too close to each other” on the couch. Everybody look at them thinking the same, “why the fuck do you sit together if you don’t want to be close?” but then all of you remember they haven’t still figured out how much they love each other. So, for the sake of the group’s peace, Marco suggests that you could sit over his lap, and so they will have more room.

You agree instantly and sit over Marco’s legs. Your back laying over his chest. You are so used to him that this doesn’t represent a problem for you. But then, Marco snakes his arms around your waist and presses you tight against his lap. “What is this boy playing tonight?” you think.

Somehow, the idea of feeling so tiny, so squeezed against his body is making your core feel a little… fancy.

The movie starts, and so far, you haven’t gotten scared until the murderer appears out of nowhere and stabs the victim from his back. You jump over Marco’s lap, so suddenly that he also gets scared. “Shh” he whispers in your ear. A shiver runs through your spine, as you feel Marco’s warm breath on your neck. “Sorry…” you excuse yourself. “It’s ok” he says, and rests his chin over your shoulder, squeezing your waist even tighter. You gasp and fidget your ass over his groin. “Fuck it, he wants me” you think. And indeed, you feel how a hard -huge- bulge grows under your bottom… All of a sudden, a different movie plays on your head, the idea of him fucking you with his huge member makes you wet, so wet.

You start to act scared with every little scene, and with that, a little hump over him that makes his member grow harder and harder. No one will notice, everything is dark, they are all into the movie. And with the last little jump, Marco has had enough “Stop doing that or I’ll have to fuck you right here in front of our friends” he whispers. You swallow, you wanted to turn him on, but you’ve never expected he would be so straightforward to you.

You slowly turn around your face, his nose touching your cheek. “Then fuck me if you dare” you tell him. A sexy side smirk draws on his lips, and his hands pressed your lower belly so your sex could feel perfectly how hard he is. You realize you are probably gonna have a big time when taking him all inside, and that fans the fire inside you. “I’m gonna go to the restroom” you tell him, with an inviting grin. He lets go of you, and you walk upstairs.

A few minutes later, the bathroom opens and Marco looks at you up and down, scanning you with lustful eyes. You sexily take your jacket off and let it fall to the ground. He closes the door behind him and walks steadily towards you.

His right hand squeezes your throat. His left leg in between your legs, lifting you up as your back is pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. “Come on, hump over my leg now” Marco says. You try to gasp for air and do as he tells you to. You rub your sex against his thigh, your legs hang at each side. He is so big compared to you…

He then grabs you by your waist and sits you over the bathroom counter. You spread your legs, so he can come closer. His mouth invades yours, lustfully, feral. This felt way better than the times you’ve dreamt of it.

When he is satisfied with the taste of your mouth, he lifts you up. You cross your legs around his waist and Marco carries you to the next room. Who knows whose room it is? but you don’t care… He throws you to bed, you lay on your back while he unbuttons his white shirt. You enjoy the show of the big man in front of you, your body begs to be destroyed, to be fucked.

“Marco…” you mumble. “Hm?” he asks. “Fuck me, rough” you tell him. “You sure? I’m afraid I’ll destroy your insides” he says while leaning over you, already taking off your pants. “That’s exactly what I want” you say and bite your lip. “You little whore” he says laughing and pounces into you.

He bites your neck; you carve your nails on his back. His huge hands take off your shirt, exposing your perfect body to him. “God, why are you so tiny? I’m gonna rip you” he says, with one of your nipples on his mouth. You moan as his tongue wets your breasts.

He then traces a path of wet smooches from your tits towards your sex. He licks and kisses your hot skin, and you squirm. Yet, you are anxious to see his member, you’ve been wanting to see that huge dick in front and inside you for so long…

A finger enters your sex. “Oh, even my finger feels tight inside you… I wonder how I am gonna fuck your little cunt?” he asks, and that turns you so fucking much, he has no idea. Then, the second finger in. Slowly, but surely you dilate enough -or so that’s what you thought- to receive his shaft.

“I think I can manage to fuck you like this” Marco says while lowers the zipper of his jeans. You swallow, you want it inside now. He finally flashes his eight inches dick to you. You widen your eyes and he notices it. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Fucking destroy me, Marco” you tell him, delighted by the huge member in front of your eyes.

“Sure, my dear” he says, and aligns the tip of his dick with your entrance. You are so wet that it slides perfectly and even if Marco tries to hold back not to hurt you, he can’t take it any longer. Soon, he is balls deep inside you. You whine, loud enough for the whole house to hear you. “Shhh, little whore” he shushes you and covers your mouth with his hand.

You feel your walls stretch, they burn, but you love it. A bulge forms in your lower stomach whenever he is deep inside you, you watch it and the image makes both of you extremely aroused. He is indeed destroying your tiny body, and you are enjoying every single moment of it.

And after intense thrusts, your insides clenches around him as you are ready to fall into an intense orgasm. “Mhh babe… you are so tight. Even after fucking you so much” Marco whines. You moan as the last deep plunges send you to climax heaven. You squirt on the base of his dick, so hard, relieving the pressure, biting Marco’s shoulder.

He does the same a few seconds after, and he does not back off until your insides get filled fully with his warm seed…

“So, are we dating now?” he finally speaks, while resting after an amazing fuck. “Well, yeah, finally” you tell him and laugh soundly. Everybody knew that, except you two…

“We should come back, don’t you think?” you say. “I hope they didn’t hear us…” Marco tells you kissing your forehead… ♥ ~

#marco the phoenix #marco one piece #marco x you #marco x reader #marco the pineapple #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x oc #one piece x marco #marco imagine #sashi ya

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farfromsugafanfic · 3 years

Text

Not So Silent Night

Genre: Quarantine Romance, slight Enemies To Lovers, Neighbors AU, Fluff, slight Angst

Pairing: Namjoon/ Reader

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Namjoon hadn’t intended to spend much time in his tiny apartment. And then a pandemic broke out. Now he’s stuck dealing with his noisy neighbor, you.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon thought he was in the clear that Wednesday night. He'd heard the opening and closing of your front door, the clink of your keys in the lock, and the rustle of the groceries in your arms. He knew it was your Friday, which meant you'd usually turn on music while you cleaned your tiny apartment, or a play a movie on full blast while you devoured an entire pizza yourself.

It was nearly 9 pm and he hadn't heard a peep from you, not even the true crime podcast you sometimes put on. Namjoon, unlike you, had worked from home for months now. Even though most of his time at work was spent in his private studio, he had nearly an identical set up in his apartment.

He was still working, albeit, not on the songs he produced for other artists, but on his own. He'd just started editing the melody when heard the familiar bass chords of "What Makes You Beautiful". It was your favorite song to torture him with. Namjoon had nothing against the British boyband you seemed to love so much, that was until you started them playing them loudly at odd hours.

Namjoon sighed, pausing his work and rubbing his temples. He really needed to save up for a good pair of noise canceling headphones, although he wouldn't find it surprising if you somehow managed to invade his eardrums right away.

He tried to continue working, turning his headphones all the way up. Yet, all he could focus on was the way he heard the familiar bass line restart when the song ended.

Namjoon groaned and threw his headphones onto his desk. He'd only moved into this tiny apartment because the rent was cheap and he hadn't intended to spend much time in it. Then, a pandemic hit and suddenly, Namjoon was confined to four menacing white walls with the only company being his noisy neighbor, you.

He waited a half hour before he walked down the stairs to your apartment. Even though the city was under quarantine, the apartment building was snug and it was nearly impossible not to come into contact with each other. Securing his mask over his ear, he knocked on your door.

"Yes?" you asked, answering the door as if you'd been expecting him. You, too, had just finished looping the mask around your ear. It was a bright polka dot pattern that distracted Namjoon long enough that he managed to speak before noticing that your oversized T-shirt made it look like you weren't wearing shorts.

"Can you please keep it down, Y/N? It's the middle of the week for me and I have a Zoom call at 8 am tomorrow."

"That sounds like your problem," you said, leaving your door open as you tied the top of the trash bag you'd been getting ready to take out when Namjoon knocked.

A glint of annoyance passed over Namjoon's eyes and even from under your mask he could make out your familiar smirk from the way your eyebrows rose.

"Do you even own headphones?" he asked, crossing his arms. He didn't notice the way your eyes swept over his biceps and chest with his movement.

"They hurt my ears," you said, shrugging. Grabbing the trash bag by the tied top and heading back for your front door. "Now, be a doll and take this out for me? My legs hurt from work."

Namjoon looked at you with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He didn't say anything as you shoved the bag into his hands.

"What? Why are looking at me like that?" you paused, dialing down your attitude for a moment. "Listen, if you do this, I'll turn it off so you can get your beauty sleep."

He watched as you reached up and pat his shoulder. Your nail polish was chipping and the gleam from your gold promise ring dulled. His eyes traced as your hand left the fabric of his T-shirt and came to the doorknob of your front door.

"Goodnight Namjoon," you said, shutting the door.

Namjoon stood in the hallway, his lips parted and a small breath. He scoffed as the familiar bassline blasted from your apartment.

✦✧✦✧

You'd had a long day. Work was keeping you at least an hour over every day and you felt your feet ache as slipped off your shoes. Even though you just wanted to fall into bed, you changed and washed your hands first, doing your best to feel clean before your skin hit the sheets. As a Pharmacy Technician, you were essential, and even if most of your job was counting pills and performing customer service, right now it was harder than ever.

With only ten hours until you had to be at work, you ordered food and eyed the laundry that was beginning to spill over the edge of the hamper like waves over a jetty. You sighed, taking out your phone and putting on music. You gathered up your clothes and laundry soap. Pocketing your keys and a handful of quarters dug out of the bottom of your purse, you made your way to the basement laundry room.

You let the music play. While you weren't particularly trying to get your tall neighbor's attention, or get on his nerves, like you usually were, you secretly hoped you'd get to catch a glimpse of his signature white T-shirt against his bronzed skin.

Loading your clothes into the shared washer, your phone began to ring and your boyfriend's face flashed across the screen. He was smiling widely in the picture, his hair swept back by the coastal breeze. At one point, it had been your favorite photo of him. Now, it just felt like a sweet apple that turned out to be poison.

You ignored the call and poured the detergent into the machine. Inserting the quarters, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. You'd heard his feet on the stairs enough, that you recognized the soft one, two pattern as he made his way downstairs.

"I think the whole complex knows you're a fan of One Direction now," Namjoon said, coming into view. His hands were empty, having obviously come down purely because of your disruption.

"So be it," you said, starting the machine and glancing down as the music stopped and your phone rang again. You frowned as you rejected the call.

Namjoon noticed, his brow furrowing as his eyes glanced down at the phone in your hand. "You should've answered. At least you'd be less of a bother."

The two calls and the exhaustion weighed you down and felt yourself drifting below the surface. "I'm really not in the mood right now, Namjoon. Maybe tomorrow."

His sarcastic smile faltered. "If you don't want me to bother you, then don't play your music so loud." He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles becoming more prominent as the fabric of his T-shirt stretched to accommodate the new position. You had no idea how he stayed so toned with the apartment gym shut down and such a small apartment.

"Maybe you should invest in earplugs."

"Maybe you should invest in headphones."

You scoffed and headed back upstairs, not feeling the banter. Your neck and shoulders were tense and you just wanted to finish your laundry and pass out for the night.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon didn't think much of your sour mood. It was obvious that it extended beyond him since you rejected the phone call. He stood in the laundry room for a few moments and watched your laundry spin around in the washer.

He remembered back to the week before when you forced him to take out your garbage. A thought crossed his mind and he wondered if a good prank would lift your spirits.

With most coin operated washers, the doors locked right after the money is inserted and the washer starts. The ones at your apartment complex, however, had a loophole. Hitting the coin return button a few times, the quarters you'd entered fell into the coin return and the machine slowed to a stop.

Waiting a few moments to make sure you weren't coming back, he opened the door and took your wet clothes out of the dryer. He pocketed the coins, reminding himself to use them for your clothes later. Setting them on top of the washer, he rushed up to his apartment and grabbed his own laundry, starting it.

✦✧✦✧

The timer went off a half hour later. You were halfway through eating dinner but paused to go switch loads. You knew between your boyfriend' incessant calls and the hour long drying cycle, you were not going to get to sleep any time soon.

Shuffling down to the laundry room, you didn't even bother to throw on music this time. The heaviness in your eyes wouldn't be cured with Harry's sweet voice as usual.

Opening the door to the washer, your clothes were not there. A stroke of panic ran down your spine as your eyes darted across the row of washers, wondering if you had gone to the wrong one. All the other doors were open. You felt a stirring in your stomach as your mind raced with what to do.

"Lose something?"

You turned to see Namjoon coming down the stairs, carrying a laundry basket full of your wet clothes. Your heart beat out of your chest, your vision went black as your mind processed the sight.

"What the fuck, Namjoon?" you asked, yanking the basket from him. Tears came to your eyes as you looked down at the sopping wet clothes.

Namjoon's eyes widened at his words, having expected a snarky quip from you, he released his grip on the basket easily. Fishing for the quarters in his pocket, he held them out to you.

"God, I'm gonna get absolutely no sleep tonight," you said, shoving your half washed clothes back into the washer.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice soft. "What's wrong?"

Once you'd restarted the washer, placing your body physically in front of it to block Namjoon from tampering with it once again, you eyed him.

"I'm only gonna get a few hours of sleep," you said, your voice surprisingly level. "My work clothes are in there." You leaned back against the washer, sighing as you looked down at the time on your phone.

"I-I'm--"

"Save it, Namjoon," you said. "Listen, I know we have this sort of relationship where we mess with each other. But, I'm really not in the mood for it tonight."

Namjoon tried to move towards you, but stopped himself, unsure of exactly what he was going to do or how he could help. He'd never seen you like this before. Dark circles around your eyes, your hair stringy and tousled from running your hands through it, and your posture so tense. Even though the lower half of your face was covered with a bright green mask, he could still make out your frown behind the fabric.

"Just le--" You were cut off by your phone's vibration.

Despite Namjoon having caused your distress, whoever kept calling you made your brow furrow and eyes water in a way that left Namjoon wanting to answer the phone and find out what they had done to you.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. "Who keeps calling you?"

Glancing down at the washer it had now moved onto the second cycle, you ignored. Meeting Namjoon's eyes, it hurt your chest to see the concern in them. After seeing you like this, after getting annoyed with him, he still worried about you.

"Just leave me alone, Namjoon."

✦✧✦✧

It was midnight on Wednesday night when the sound of yelling overtook the melody in his headphones. At first, he didn't think much of it. Many couples lived in the complex, and an occasional fight wasn't uncommon. Then, he heard your voice.

✦✧✦✧

"Jae-ho, what are you doing here? I told you you couldn't come."

"I just want to see you, baby." There was a softness in his voice, but it didn't reach his eyes. You'd been dodging his calls and texts for the past few days, hoping he would get the hint.

"Not until your test comes back negative," you said. "Plus, we really shouldn't be seeing each other that much. Especially since I'm still working."

Your boyfriend let out a long sigh and moved to walk inside. You blocked him, shutting the door slightly and wedging yourself in the gap. This only made him more frustrated, his hands reaching out to touch you.

You let him, allowing his hand to brush your own. You knew it was unlikely your boyfriend would get a positive result, his exposure limited and brief. But you couldn't risk it.

"Are you not scared of spreading it to me? To anyone?"

"I don't have it, babe. I've told you."

"You were still required to get tested. And since I see so many vulnerable people at work, I can't risk it." This wasn't the first time this was an issue. You'd been tested twice already. You job required you to come into contact with people all day, and more than a few confirmed cases had come through your pharmacy.

Jae-ho had had an issue those times too. Coming over when you'd told him not to, calling you until he got sick of dialing your number. You weren't sure how much longer you could take this.

"Are you cheating on me?"

The question lingered in the air as your mouth fell open in shock. Did he think that was the only reason you could not want to see him?

"No, of course not! I'm trying to protect you, Jae-ho!"

"I know you like that neighbor of yours. You still see him, don't you? Why do you see him and not me?"

"We're neighbors! This complex is so tiny, we can't help it!"

Your voice and his gradually rose with your emotions. You barely remember what either of you said after that, you only remembering sliding the promise ring off your finger and flinging it down the stairs.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon walked down the stairs when he heard your door slam. He came upon your boyfriend, scoffing at your door. When he met the other man's eyes, Namjoon's immediately narrowed.

"Of course," Jae-ho said. He shook his head and walked down the stairs, pausing at the next landing. He bent down to retrieve something and Namjoon stopped focusing on the other man, reaching up to knock on your door.

Namjoon's knuckles didn't even make contact with your door before he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Jae-ho stood a few steps down and held out the gold promise ring you always wore.

"Give this back to Y/N," he said. "I don't want it either."

He handed Namjoon the ring before turning around and leaving for good.

✦✧✦✧

"Y/N?" Namjoon's voice cut through the dark silence of your apartment. You'd everything outside, but not realized that it was Namjoon Jae-ho was talking to. "Are you okay?

You opened the door. You tried to wipe your tears before Namjoon could take in your figure, but it was fruitless. When your eyes met his, you saw his heartbreaking at the sight of you.

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not," Namjoon said, waiting for you to give the okay for him to enter your apartment. You knew that there was no hiding from Namjoon. The two of you literally lived on top of one another and saw each other almost daily when you did the laundry or took the trash out. There was nearly no way to avoid Kim Namjoon for long.

You moved aside and closed the door behind him. Flopping down on your bed, you looked up at him. "Sorry if we woke you up."

Namjoon shook his head. "You didn't."

"Sorry to interrupt your work then," you said, feeling like you owed the man an apology for more than just this one night. "I didn't mean for it to escalate like that."

Namjoon didn't say anything. He glanced around your apartment, sensing the way that his eyes on you made you uncomfortable.

"You don't need to apologize," he said. "For anything."

You stayed silent, hugging a pillow to your chest.

The silence wasn't tense, but it wasn't calm either. There was something lingering between you. Something keeping Namjoon in your apartment after making sure you were okay. And something that allowed you to let him in at all.

"You know, whenever I was upset or I had trouble sleeping. My mom would always make me milk and cookies. It seems counterintuitive that something sugary helped me sleep. But it never failed."

Namjoon left for his apartment for a moment, coming back with a package of chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk. He handed you one of the glasses and sat the package of cookies down beside you.

"Is it okay if I stick around? Just in case your boyfriend tries to come back," Namjoon said. He knew his explanation was flimsy. It was obvious when the man left that he did not intend on coming back.

"Yes," you said, reaching to pull out a cookie and dip it in the milk. "I'd like that."

The two of you ate in silence. Silence rarely occurred when you saw Namjoon, no matter how much he may want it to, but now, you could tell by the tension in his shoulders that it worried him.

"You know, I kinda look forward to hearing you every night," he said. "Lets me take a break from my work. Means I get to come see you."

You chuckled, smiling for the first time that night. "Why do you think I was always loud?" The crunch of a cookie filled your pause. "I knew you would always come complain."

✦✧✦✧

"I have a present for you, Y/N," Namjoon said.

It was the holidays now. Your family was far away and none of you wanted to get on a plane. It saddened you that you wouldn't be able to see your family, but Namjoon had become your solace. He'd usually hear when you got home and about ten minutes later, he'd appear at your door, asking what you were having for dinner that night. Most of the time, you ate together.

It was just like all those other nights, except you didn't have to work the next morning. Namjoon had met you by your door, takeout in hand, and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

Namjoon reached into his backpack and pulled out a wrapped package. The paper was a bit wrinkled, indicating he'd wrapped it himself. It made you smile.

"Oh, wait," you said, getting up and walking to the closet where you pulled out a similarly wrapped package. You handed it to him and looked down at his gift for you.

Tearing off the paper, you laughed when you noticed it was headphones. They were expensive too, which made your stomach turn thinking that he spent so much money on you.

"Open the box," he said, a smug smile on his face.

You ripped open the box, finding crumpled up paper. You felt around until you felt a thin object. Pulling it out. you found a CD.

"It's a mixtape. For you." Namjoon's eyes wandered around the room. "I--uh--hope you'll play it like you do One Direction."

You flung your arms around him, but he stopped you. "There's something else."

You looked down at the box quizzically before you began pulling out the paper. Reaching inside, you felt what you immediately recognized as a ring. Thoughts ran through your mind as you pulled it out.

It was your promise ring from Jae-ho, shinier than when you had last seen it. "He wanted me to give it back to you. But, I knew it might be painful. I had it cleaned and engraved for you."

You turned the ring to see the engraving on the inside: Be Loud - KNJ

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #btsimagines #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts fan fiction #namjoon fanfic #namjoon enemies to lovers #rm #rm fanfic #rm fluff #namjoon neighbors au #bts au fanfic #bts au fic #originally posted on wattpad #farfromsuga

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wokeuptired · 4 years

Photo

every perfect summer

Finn is steady on her own two feet but Niall is a hurricane, determined to bring to the surface what she’s long buried. If only he weren’t so beautiful at sunset, she might be able to resist.

written for @majorharry ‘s 20k fic celebration

prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that.”

niall/ofc, 6.2k

Summer in California is hot and sticky, the kind of sticky that makes you feel silly showering, because as soon as you walk outside, you’ll be sweaty all over again. Even with the fan on full blast, Finn’s thighs are sticking to the leather of the couch she took from her mom’s house when she moved out. She’s read the same page a hundred times, over and over again. The heat makes it hard to think.

The heat makes it hard to breathe.

And mostly, the heat makes it hard to write.

Finn’s about to put the book down when she hears footsteps on the stairs outside. Her apartment complex is a series of buildings each containing a dozen apartments. Finn shares the landing of her staircase with the apartment next door, but it’s the wrong time of day for Cindy and Ralph to be returning home, which means—

“Your new downstairs neighbor is hot,” Jocelyn announces as the apartment door slams shut behind her, the gust of warm air ruffling the pages of Finn’s book. She looks up to roll her eyes.

“You think every guy is hot.”

Jocelyn dumps her shopping on the kitchen table and scoffs. “I do not. Just the hot ones.”

“Aren’t you engaged?” Finn glances down at the big shiny ring on Jocelyn’s finger to emphasize her point. Even though Jocelyn moved out six months ago, when her boyfriend popped the question, sometimes it feels like she never left. Right now is one of those times. “What’s Marcus think about all this looking you do?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Jocelyn punctuates her statement with a saucy flip of her hair and begins unloading her bags onto the small kitchen counter. She holds up a carton of ice cream. “Should I bother putting this away, or do you want to dive in right now?”

Finn holds her hand out for the rocky road. “You know me so well.”

“You’re welcome.” As Finn digs into the tub of ice cream, Jocelyn begins putting things away in the fridge. “You know,” she says into the veggie drawer, “I’m not kidding about your new neighbor. He’s got this angelic frat boy look to him. Have you met him yet?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Last week. He offered to carry a package upstairs for me. Very polite, and totally not my type.”

“Exactly.” Jocelyn sits on the couch with another spoon and slides the ice cream out of Finn’s grasp. “As your older sister, it’s my job to advise you on everything. Starting with your interest in men, which is, to be frank, utter shit.”

Finn opens her mouth to object, but she can’t find fault with Jocelyn’s statement. Her last boyfriend wouldn’t come to any work events with her but insisted she attend all of his art shows. He had an ego the size of the Milky Way to make up for his abysmal lack of talent.

“You need to stop dating those neurotic, artsy types,” Jocelyn continues, “and date a man who can, like, actually kill a spider.”

“I’m perfectly capable of killing my own spiders.” As long as they’re small and not moving, but Finn doesn’t feel the need to share that caveat.

“So am I,” Jocelyn says. “Do you want wine?” She doesn’t wait for Finn to answer before she gets up and goes straight for the cupboard that holds the long-stem glasses. “Anyway, that’s not my point. You need to stop dating boys who look good on paper and start dating men who are good. In real life.”

Finn closes her book so that it doesn’t have to listen to this conversation. She accepts the wine glass from Jocelyn’s outstretched hand and swirls around the liquid within. It doesn’t go with the ice cream, but she’s 25 years old, so that doesn’t matter.

Jocelyn scowls at the closed book. “Virginia Woolf again, Finn? Are you ever going to read anything written in this century?”

Finn rolls her eyes. If there’s one thing her sister excels at, it’s being unsatisfied with all aspects of Finn’s life. “Are you here just to criticize me? Or are we watching ‘The Bachelor’?”

Jocelyn grins, spoon still in her mouth. “Oh, we’re watching ‘The Bachelor.’”

-----

The thing about “The Bachelor,” Finn decides that night as she’s brushing her teeth, is that, for the women involved, the ones competing for the bachelor’s heart, there are no consequences.

Oh, small consequences, sure. Your decision might make somebody else cry, or your heart might be slightly bruised, but at the end of it all, you’ve got thousands of new Instagram followers and you’re famous in your small town and everybody wants to date you, even though you chose, of your own free will, to engage in the skeptical that is a dating game show.

But there are no big consequences, no bad consequences. A few months later and the next season’s airing, and everything you did, every dumb thing you said, every kiss you exchanged—it’s all forgotten.

Maybe that’s the way to go, Finn thinks.

Maybe next year, she ought to audition. She develops the pitch in her head: 25 year old ghostwriter of bestselling romance novels; lives alone in Los Angeles; has been considering, for an entire year, the adoption of a cat; has never been in love.

It’s that last part that would sway them, she thinks. The producers would imagine her doe-eyed and innocent, maybe a bit naive. She’d be pitted against the season’s villain, the girl with dark hair (a visual contrast to Finn’s blond bob) who would stop at nothing to win her man.

“How can she write romance novels when she has never known love?” audiences across America would wonder.

Perhaps the bachelor himself would even inquire. Finn would smile shyly, bat her impossibly long eyelashes up at him, and say something coy like, “You could tutor me.”

Jocelyn would love that. She lives for the drama, for what the editors create in post-production. She doesn’t care that it’s fake.

And every week Finn watches and wonders how she can keep selling love in her books when this show proves, without a doubt, that it doesn’t exist.

-----

The new downstairs neighbor works out in the mornings on his patio. Finn hears his music the next morning, drifting in through her open sliding door, around 8:30 AM. It’s not early enough for her to be justifiably annoyed at him, but she’s annoyed nonetheless, because she’s just sat down at her laptop with the intention of writing something today.

Something. Anything. Words on the page, that’s all she needs.

Instead, she sighs, closing her laptop and crossing the room to the balcony. She slides the door open further, pushes the screen out of the way, and goes outside. When she and Jocelyn first moved in, the balcony was a huge appeal. “Outdoor space!” they’d squealed when they first saw the apartment listed online. But now Finn’s been here for two and a half years, and the balcony is just another space for dust to collect.

It’s directly over Downstairs Neighbor’s patio. Finn looks down through the wooden slats and tries to catch a glimpse at him. She can hear Jocelyn’s voice in her head: He’s hot, right? I told you he was hot!

In truth, though, Finn can’t see much through the small gaps between the planks. She can’t tell if he’s lifting weights or doing jumping jacks or playing a very enthusiastic game of cat’s cradle. He’s definitely grunting, though.

Finn shakes her head, trying not to focus on the noises he’s making, and crosses the balcony. She leans her arms on the railing and looks out over the beauty of Los Angeles. Beauty referring, of course, to the parking lot. Finn can see her car, about thirty feet away, parked beneath an evil tree that drops red berries. It really needs to be washed.

Maybe she should take it today. Maybe today will be the first day in a month that she’s gotten dressed in pants that have a zipper and a button, and she’ll go to the carwash and—

Feeling something crawling on her arm, Finn looks down, and oh, shit, it’s a spider. Not a little spider, not a daddy long legs, but one of those ones that’s big enough where you can see its body. It looks like one of those spiders a little kid draws around Halloween.

Oh, shit. Finn lifts her arm, waving it wildly, trying to shake the spider loose before it bites her and turns her into Spider Woman, and that’s when she throws her mug of coffee into the air.

“Oh, shit,” she says out loud. Time seems to slow as she watches her mug descend, coffee flying everywhere as the cup turns a full 360 degrees before landing with a crack on the concrete below.

“What the fuck?” It’s Downstairs Neighbor.

“Oh, shit,” Finn says again. Which, no doubt, Downstairs Neighbor heard. Oh, shit. That one’s in her head, at least.

She hears a grunt as he, she imagines, lowers his weight to the ground, then the snick of his sliding glass door, then the sound of his front door opening, and then, oh, shit, there he is, standing on the ground, looking at her broken coffee cup.

Oh, shit, Finn thinks again as she drops to her knees, hiding herself from view.

Apparently unsuccessfully, as not thirty seconds later, she hears, “I can see you, ya know.”

Finn rises slowly to her feet and looks down. It’s hard not to admit that Jocelyn was right as she looks down at him, messy hair and blue eyes and muscles visible through his sweaty t-shirt.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” His eyes twinkle, and she knows he’s trying not to laugh at her. “This yours?”

“Yeah. Sorry I interrupted you.”

He laughs then, a light, musical sound that she can feel in her toes. Oh, shit. That’s not good. Finn’s characters feel laughter in their toes, but she certainly doesn’t. Feeling someone’s laughter in her toes is not a real thing, she’s always thought, except, apparently, it is.

“What happened?” he asks.

“There was a spider.”

“A spider.”

Finn nods, cheeks burning. “It was a big spider.”

“You gonna come clean it up?”

Finn nods again. “In a minute.”

“Okay.” He grins up at her and she blushes back.

Finn turns around and goes inside, sliding the door shut behind her, and waits, listening for the sounds of Downstairs neighbor reentering his own apartment, shutting the door, locking it. When a minute has passed without any of that, Finn realizes that he must be waiting for her.

Oh, shit. Finn doesn’t have to be Jocelyn to know that this is not the ideal situation in which one wants to interact with Hot Downstairs Neighbor. But it seems like she doesn’t have a choice, so she slips on the flip flops she keeps by the door and goes downstairs.

He’s still there, standing in the sunshine, squinting when he smiles. “There you are,” he says.

“Here I am.” Finn looks down, surveying the damage. The mug has split into several large chunks, and maybe if Finn were better at diy-ing she’d be able to fix it, but as things stand now, it’s destined for the garbage. “Damn, I really liked that mug.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Downstairs Neighbor says, which is such a strange thing to say that Finn startles, turning to stare at him.

“Thanks?” she says.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Niall.”

Finn accepts the handshake. “I’m Finn.”

His hand is warm and a bit clammy, a bit like California in the summer, and her stomach goes topsy-turvy. She yanks her hand back.

“Nice to meet you,” Niall says. “I guess you’re the neighbor who watches ‘The Bachelor’?”

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks, dropping to a squat. She gathers up the pieces of her destroyed mug and doesn’t answer him. How nosy of him, asking her that. But then, she was the one listening to him work out this morning.

“My sister likes it,” she says. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in liking ‘The Bachelor,’” Niall says, dropping down beside her. They reach for the last piece at the same time, hands brushing. Finn draws hers back, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingertips. “Here.”

Finn accepts the final shard. “Thanks,” she says. “And I don’t like ‘The Bachelor.’ I think it’s silly.”

Niall smiles at her again, all teeth and sunshine. “What’s silly about love?”

Finn blinks at him, trying to decide if he’s an idiot or just bad at small talk. Maybe both. “That show is not about love,” she says. “Have you ever seen it?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve heard it through the ceiling.”

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks again. What a neighbor. She can’t wait to tell Jocelyn about this, to prove to her that Downstairs Neighbor may be hot, but his positive qualities end there. He’s intrusive and nosy and way, way too good looking.

“You can get back to your workout,” she says, standing up straight. He follows, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not a bother,” he says. “It was nice to meet you, Finn.”

“Yep,” she says, offering him a half smile before she turns tail and dashes up the stairs, back to her safe, quiet, Downstairs Neighbor-free apartment. Back to her laptop, and the manuscript due in three months that she hasn’t managed to crack yet. Back to being hot and sweaty inside her apartment, instead of outside.

“Have a good day!” he calls after her. She doesn’t return the greeting.

-----

The next morning, a knock on the door wakes Finn up from a dream, the kind of dream that you know as soon as you wake was a good one, but it’s too late, you’ve forgotten it, and you won’t be able to get it back.

“No,” she mutters, turning over in bed, burrowing into the pillow. “I’m sleeping.” But then the knock sounds again. “Damnit.”

Finn climbs out of bed and reaches for her phone on the nightstand. 8:27 AM on a Wednesday. An acceptable hour for someone to be knocking on the door, she supposes. Except she was up till 1 o’clock trying to make her messy notes into something resembling an outline that could someday (someday soon, she hopes) be a book.

The morning person disturbing her sleep knocks again, eliminating the possibility that it’s just UPS dropping off a package. Finn drops her phone on the bed and makes her way down the hall to the living room, where sunlight blares in so sharply it makes her squint.

“Gah,” she says to herself as she pulls open the door. And then, “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Hot Downstairs Neighbor—Niall, Finn corrects herself—says. “UPS dropped off this package at my door, but I think it’s yours.”

Finn looks down at the envelope he’s holding out, but the label is blurry. Oh, shit, her glasses. “If you say so,” she says. “I’d have to grab my glasses to know for sure.”

Niall smiles at her, she thinks, but the details of his face are a bit blurry. “I can wait,” he says. “We should make sure it’s yours.”

Finn frowns at him for a second—He can read, can’t he? Shouldn’t he know if it’s her name on the label?—before deciding that it’s too early for an argument. “Fine, whatever,” she says, turning around and leaving him in the doorway.

That’s where she expects him to stay, but when she returns to the door a minute later with her glasses perched on her nose, he’s inside her apartment, poking around the bookshelves on either side of her television. The package he brought over has been discarded on the coffee table.

Finn ignores him for a second as she picks it up. Yep, it’s definitely hers. It’s a proof of her latest Isobel novel, if she had to guess. But she’s not going to open it now, not with Niall here.

Niall, who is currently nosing around her living room, looking much too closely at things she’d rather he not see.

“What are these?” Niall steps closer to the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the spines. “You read romance novels?”

“Not exactly,” Finn says. Which lie should she tell this time? She has a few prepared: “they’re my sister’s” or “my roommate forgot them when she moved out.” Said roommate is said sister, but for the sake of the lie, that wouldn’t matter. But then the truth slips out. “I write them.”

“You write them?” Niall repeats. He pulls one of the books out, Summer’s Dalliance, about two yoga instructors who find love during a training retreat in the Maldives. “You’re Isobel Soleil?”

Finn can tell from the way Niall says Isobel Soleil that he’s heard of her. Who hasn’t heard of her, these days? Her books are in grocery stores and airport shops and on bestseller lists and there’s a series in development with HBO.

As a ghostwriter, Finn isn’t involved, but she knows the show will help move sales, which means bigger checks, which means maybe, eventually, she can write something she actually cares about.

“Not exactly.” Finn takes the book out of his hand and returns it to its place on the shelf. It’s not as if she’s proud of it. That’s not why she has it out. It’s just a placeholder until she publishes a book she’s actually proud of. “Isobel Soleil isn’t a person. She’s a brand. Her books are written by half a dozen different people. How do you think she can pump them out so quickly?”

“How quickly?”

“Three or four a year.”

“And you wrote all of these?” Niall’s finger runs along the spines. “How many are there? Ten?”

“Eight,” Finn corrects. Eight cheesy, embarrassing, don’t-let-your-mother-see-you-reading-that novels. “But they’re formulaic and simplistic. They’re not… they’re not good.”

Niall shrugs. “They’re not high literature, you mean. Someone reads them, though, right? And the people who read them enjoy them. So who cares if they’re not high literature, Finn?”

Finn swallows the sudden lump in her throat. How has Niall managed to get to the quick of things so, well, quick? “I care, I guess. This isn’t what I imagined I’d be doing when I was little, telling people I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.”

“So write something else,” Niall says.

Finn sighs. She wishes it were that easy. If only she could break out of the mold she’s put herself in and write something else, something that’s not about two people falling in love. If only she could write something she actually believed in.

But she has a contract and a deadline and an agent and an editor on her back, and no choice but to finish this Isobel Soleil novel.

“Maybe next summer,” she says.

Niall considers her, nods. “Speaking of this summer,” he says slowly, like he’s thinking about what he’s going to say as he’s saying it, “I have free tickets to LACMA, and I just moved to town so I don’t know a ton of people. Want to go with me?”

Say yes or no more ice cream, Jocelyn’s voice says in the back of Finn’s mind.

“Sure,” she says. “But you know my secret”—she gestures to the bookshelves—“so now you have to tell me one of yours. So I know you’re not a serial killer or something.”

He smiles at her and, damn, he’s good looking. “I’m a lawyer,” he says. “My new job doesn’t start till August, so I’m working remotely with my old firm until then.”

“That’s not a secret.” Not a secret at all, but a great career for a hero in a romance novel. Finn makes a mental note.

“Okay,” Niall says. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, lifting one hand to his chin, a classic thinking pose. “How about this? I’m not from here.”

Finn shakes her head. She’d already guessed that from his accent, a soft, lilting Irish one that makes everything he says sound like a poem. “Not a secret either. You get one more try.”

“One more try!” he says with mock shock. “I’ll make this good, then.”

He thinks and Finn waits, and in the thirty seconds it takes him to come up with a good secret, she wonders what the hell she’s doing, flirting with Hot Downstairs Neighbor in her living room while dressed in her pajamas. Oh, shit, she’s not wearing a bra, is she?

Finn crosses her arms over her chest and considers backing out of this conversation entirely by making something up that will put Niall off and convince him that she’s the worst possible LACMA companion.

But then he says, “I can’t swim,” and that is distracting enough to make her forget everything else.

“You can’t swim?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing in southern California?”

Niall shrugs. His smile makes her insides go wonky. “Maybe you can teach me.” Then he holds out his phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you and we can make plans.”

She obliges, all the while wondering what exactly she’s gotten herself into.

-----

LACMA day comes much quicker than Finn anticipates. When she and Niall first made the plans a week ago, Saturday seemed like ages away. There was so much she was going to do between now and then: repot all of her plants, make bread from scratch, work on her manuscript. But instead, she putters around her apartment, typing words here and there, ignoring how bad they are, and not baking bread.

It’s a waste of a week, and not just because Niall is there, in the back of her mind, the whole time.

Jocelyn’s excited, of course, for LACMA day, and insists on coming over the night before to help Finn select her outfit. Finn keeps reminding her that it’s summer in Los Angeles, so it’s a thousand degrees out and she will melt no matter what she wears, but Jocelyn doesn’t care.

Which is how Finn ends up knocking on Niall’s door on LACMA day dressed in a romper that’s giving her a wedgie, a purse she never carries slung over her shoulder. Jocelyn even forced her to wear lip gloss.

“Lip gloss makes you a different person,” Jocelyn said last night on her way out. “I left you three options. Please wear one.”

“I don’t take advice from the Sweet Valley Twins anymore,” Finn had retorted as she shut the door in Jocelyn’s face.

But she’s wearing the lip gloss anyway. Her hair has already gotten stuck in it three times, and all she’s done is climb down the stairs.

She knocks again, half hoping Niall hasn’t changed his mind and half hoping that he has. If he has, she can go back upstairs, put her pajamas on again, and continue to stare at her blank Word document. But then he opens the door.

“Good morning!” His smile is so bright it makes her squint. “Coffee?”

He holds out a travel mug to her, waiting for her to take it.

“Good morning,” she says after she takes a sip. The coffee is exactly the right temperature and perfectly sweet, which is almost enough to make her smile. “This is good coffee.”

“It’s from Ecuador,” Niall says. He steps out onto the welcome mat and closes the apartment door behind him. “Hold this for me?”

Finn holds his travel mug as he locks the door and turns the knob a couple of times to make sure it’s secure. Then he turns around, his smile lighting up his face.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” she says, though she’s pretty sure she isn’t.

She learns, over the next few hours, that Niall’s energy is nonstop. He talks constantly during their drive to the museum, talks as they park the car, talks as they ride the elevator to the top floor and begin making their way through the galleries. He tells her where he’s from and where he went to school and what his favorite sports teams are.

And she finds herself talking too. She tells him about her sister and where she went to school and how she got started writing Isobel Soleil novels, and the entire time, she’s taking mental notes about him, about the way he holds doors for her and grins down at her and laughs even when her jokes are barely funny.

This is how the heroes in her novels behave. They are handsome and well-meaning and have substantial life goals. They are polite and conscientious and make the heroines feel brave and important and valued. And that’s how Finn finds herself feeling: like if she had something to say, Niall would listen to it.

After the museum, they stop for lunch at a restaurant Finn found on Yelp as they were leaving the parking structure. It’s small and bright inside, but as Niall pulls out Finn’s chair for her, it occurs to her, for the first time, that this might actually be a date.

Jocelyn had said as much last night, but Finn had ignored her, as she does with most things Jocelyn says. But now, seated across from Niall, with nowhere to look but at him, reality dawns, and it’s blinding.

But, she decides, she won’t address it, and she carries on with the meal as if they are recent acquaintances and neighbors, which is, she reminds herself, exactly what they are.

-----

After LACMA day, Niall texts Finn about the movie he’s watching, and she imagines she can hear it through the floor. Later that evening, he texts her good night, and then, the next day, he texts her good morning. The next weekend, they go to Venice Beach together, and they see a movie in a classic theater downtown the following Tuesday. That night, he comes over for dinner, and they cook together, finding their way around each other in Finn’s small kitchen.

And all of a sudden, this summer is different, hot and sticky like all the others, but different because this summer has Niall.

Niall on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table, listing all the reasons that golf is superior to all other sports.

Niall in the passenger’s seat of her car, singing along to the radio even when he doesn’t know the words, the sun setting behind him, lighting him up as if it’s saying, “Look, he’s beautiful.”

And he is beautiful. Niall in her thoughts, Niall on the back of her eyelids when she blinks, Niall in her dreams. Niall, beautiful.

And Niall in her manuscript, try as she might to keep him out. In sticking with the proposal she made to her editor back in the spring, she’s writing about a doctor and an artist who meet when they’re sharing a wall in a duplex summer rental on the coast of Oregon. By midsummer, she’s written thirty thousand words, enough to reassure her editor that she’s still writing, that things are fine, and, upon rereading, she realizes that the doctor has become Niall.

The doctor, so sure of himself, driven and determined and sexier than any other hero she’s ever written. He is confident and has beautiful eyes and magic fingers, and the heroine, the artist, is head over heels in love with him before she’s even thought to like him.

And the artist. Finn is the artist, the confused, prideful creative soul who doesn’t want love, is afraid of it, just wants to be left alone. But now she has the lawyer, the beautiful, handsome, intelligent, lovely lawyer who makes her want to stop hiding. He makes her want to feel things. He makes her want to reach out for him, to push her fears aside and let her have what she wants.

July brings that realization and an unseasonal thunderstorm that forces Finn to bring out a bucket and email her landlord about that leak in the roof from December that still hasn’t been fixed. That’s a momentary distraction, at least, from thoughts of Niall, thoughts of Niall that are plaguing her every moment. Awake, asleep, Niall. Always Niall.

It’s thundering overhead when there’s a knock at her door. She opens it, and there he is, like she’s conjured him.

“I brought wine,” he says, holding out the bottle.

“Come in,” she says. She thinks of how much has changed since she sat on her couch a month ago, drinking wine with Jocelyn. She wishes, for a moment, that she could go back. But then she looks at Niall again.

And she doesn’t want to look away, like the artist doesn’t want to look away from the doctor. When you find something this perfect, why would you ever look away? Why would you let it go?

Finn knows from experience, though, that sometimes you don’t get to choose when people leave. Sometimes they leave you, aching and cold and alone. Sometimes it’s not up to you.

“Come in,” she says again. She grabs two wine glasses from the kitchen and joins Niall in the living room, where they sit on the couch, thighs pressed together, and he picks a movie for them to watch.

She isn’t paying attention, though, as she downs two glasses of wine and wonders if Niall will kiss her tonight. She’d like him to, she decides, just as much as she doesn’t want him to. It’s like the Schroedinger’s cat of kisses—if they never kiss, she will never know the kiss, but she will also never know what happens after it. She will never know if they go further, if they stop abruptly, if he breaks her heart and leaves her in pieces, smashed on the concrete like her broken coffee mug.

But she will also never know if it will be beautiful, like the loves of the characters in her novels, characters who risk their hearts when they don’t know what the outcome will be. The difference between Finn and Niall and the artist and the doctor, though, is that Finn can control the artist and the doctor. She can decide their ending, she can choose the words for the last page.

And maybe, with Niall, she doesn’t want a last page.

Two hours later, Finn is wine-drunk and sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the couch. Niall is next to her, the table pushed away from them to accommodate his long legs. She leans her head on his shoulder, thinking, in the way only a wine-addled mind will allow, that she’d like to keep this night forever, seal it into a locket and wear it around her neck.

“Tell me again why you don’t like your books,” Niall says. He has her newest proof in front of him on the table. It’s littered with post-it notes, changes Finn would’ve made to it had she had more time. But it’s too late now, and it will print as is.

“They’re not good,” Finn says, her go-to explanation. “I can do better.”

Niall shakes his head. “But they are good. I read Sunshine in Your Mouth, and it’s good. You’re a good writer, Finn.”

“Oh, no.” Finn ducks, covering her face with her arms. “You read it? I can’t believe you read it.”

“Yeah, I did.” Niall tugs her arm away from her face. “Stop hiding from me.”

Oh, if only he knew how apt that statement was, then maybe he wouldn’t say it. Finn puts her arms down and refills her wine glass. She knows she shouldn’t drink any more, but maybe if she does, she’ll stop thinking about how blue Niall’s eyes are and how soft his fingers feel against her arm.

“Tell me the truth,” Niall says, thumbing the post-its in her proof copy. “Why don’t you like being Isobel Soleil?”

“Because I’m not her. I’m not like her. I just don’t believe in love,” Finn tries to explain. “It’s like—”

Niall laughs. “Love’s not like the tooth fairy, Finn. You don’t have to have felt it to know it’s real.”

Finn looks at him, at his soft cheeks and his pink lips and his messy hair. In another life, in another version of this world, maybe she and Niall have known each other forever, since they were kids. And maybe Finn loves Niall. Maybe she always has. Maybe they fit. Maybe it’s the easiest thing this other Finn’s ever felt.

But the Finn that lives in this world, the one sitting on the floor of her apartment with her knees pulled to her chest and a half-empty wine glass in her hand—this Finn doesn’t feel things easily. Feelings are heavy and feelings hold you back and feelings stick around long after the people who brought them on are gone.

“My parents,” Finn says, “they got divorced when I was five.”

“Finn, you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” Finn says. The wine is talking now. The wine and the smell of Niall’s shampoo and the plunk plunk plunk of rain hitting the bucket on the kitchen floor. “My dad was sleeping with his secretary. Such a cliche, right? And it took my mom years to leave him. Years. He was sleeping with his secretary while my mom was pregnant with me. She kept thinking he’d stop, that he’d finally realize that he loved her, that he loved his family. She kept waiting, until she couldn’t anymore.”

Finn feels Niall’s fingers brush against hers where they rest on the rug. “That’s why you don’t believe in love?”

“No.” Finn closes her eyes, her head tilting back against the sofa cushion. “That’s why I don’t let myself feel it.”

“Finn.”

She doesn’t answer as Niall moves closer. Eyes closed, she can feel him entering her personal space, can feel the heat of his hand as he takes her wine glass, hears the clink of glass on wood as he puts it on the table. Feels his fingers on her cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Finn. Look at me.”

So she does, opens her eyes and meets his, and it’s too much, it’s all too much, the way he’s looking at her like he can see her feelings, can read them as if they were written across her forehead.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles. “Like what?”

“Like you like me.” The words are out before she can stop them, slipping from her lips like a sigh.

“Finn.” He’s closer now, impossibly close, his hand on her cheek. “Finn, I more than like you.”

“I—” Finn starts, but she doesn’t know what to say.

She doesn’t know what this feeling is, the one taking over her chest and spreading to her stomach and traveling up her throat all the way to her eyeballs. It’s a headache and nausea at the same time, plus a sense of doom in her stomach, maybe the unconscious realization that this can’t last forever.

Because feelings never do. Niall likes her now, likes her a lot, likes her enough to maybe kiss her against her dirty car in the parking lot fifty feet from their building. But that won’t last. He’ll like her for a bit and then he’ll like her less and less until nothing remains but the memory of the fire that used to burn, a bit of leftover smoke drifting skyward.

And that’s when it will hurt.

This will hurt, Finn thinks, but she jumps anyway.

“Then kiss me,” she says.

So he does, and in his kiss, for as long as it lasts, she lets herself feel everything: lets herself feel the sticky heat of summer and the sticky heat of a love so big it sucks you under, leaves you breathless, makes you hold on tight.

She slides her hand into his hair and thinks, I will hold on tight.

When it’s over, Niall pulls back, leans his forehead on hers. He’s breathing heavy when he says, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“I want to do it again,” Finn says. She slides her fingers under the collar of his shirt.

Niall’s hand tightens on her waist. “Is that the wine talking?”

Finn shakes her head. “No,” she says. “It’s me. And I more than like you, too.”

Niall grins, bright and beautiful. “Good,” he says. “You’re my perfect summer.”

He leans in to kiss her again, and Finn decides, in that split second before their lips meet, that even if all she gets with Niall is a summer, it will be beautiful and it will be perfect, the stuff of novels. The stuff of her novels.

But, something in her gut tells her, Niall will be around for more than a summer.

He does live right downstairs, after all.

#1dff #niall horan fanfiction #majorharry20k #look I wrote something!#this is my dream summer if there was no pandemic lol sad

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blurry-fics · 4 years

Text

Hard Feelings

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Profanity, small anxiety attack, angst

Word Count: 4245

Request: josh and bed sharing 😭😔💕✌🏻 -@panickedbrain

Author’s Note: Hopefully this super long fic makes up for my sporadic posting schedule! I hope you enjoy it :) (picture credit)

“Here, let me get that for you,” Tyler said, grabbing your duffle bag from where it had been crammed into the backseat.

Shortly after waking up drenched in sweat, you had received an email from your apartment building that the air conditioning had stopped working overnight and was in the process of being repaired. That part had been manageable, even if it meant sitting on the couch in an oversized t-shirt directly in front of a fan on full blast, but by the time lunch rolled around, a second email had come through saying the issue was much bigger. The estimated time until it would be fixed?

Three days.

You had called Tyler immediately, asking if you could crash on his and Josh’s couch until the issue was fixed. After ten minutes, and what you assumed had been a household meeting, you got the confirmation that you would have a nice, air conditioned place to stay until your own building was back up and running. Half an hour later, you were speeding down the highway towards Josh and Tyler’s house on the edge of Columbus, a duffle bag full of your essentials tossed into the backseat.

“Thanks,” you said, slamming the trunk closed after him and hitting the lock button until the car beeped. “And thank you again for letting me crash here until my building is fixed. I don’t think I would have lasted another hour in that heat.”

“It’ll be nice to have you around.”

“I doubt Josh shares that sentiment,” you snorted. Ever since you and Josh had met, there had always been a sort of rivalry between you two: he teased you about not going on enough dates while you teased him about going on too many. This, of course, was only an elaborate coverup for how you truly felt about him.

“You’d be surprised, he actually seemed pretty excited to have you around.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’ve known him for three years, of course I’m sure.”

You followed him into the house, instantly reveling in the feel of cool air washing over your body. Tyler, not even slightly phased by your reaction, continued to walk straight into the living room and dropped your stuff onto an unoccupied chair in the corner. This, you assumed, would be your closet for the indefinite future.

“Where’s Josh?” you asked, realizing that you had been inside the house for more than thirty seconds without hearing a sarcastic remark.

“Out on a run. He should be home soon.”

“In this heat?” You looked out the window, as if to confirm that the sun was still, indeed, shining.

“I don’t claim to understand his actions,” Tyler said, holding his hands up in defeat. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’m ok, but thanks.”

You finally sat down and kicked your feet up on the coffee table, allowing yourself the first moment of true relaxation since you had received the email from your building earlier that morning. Tyler continued on into the kitchen. The sound of cupboards being closed and cups clinking together filled the once-quiet house.

You were about to ask Tyler about a recent date that he had been on when the front door swung open, letting in a gust of warm air. The conversation was immediately forgotten as Josh stepped through the door, his chest still heaving beneath his sweat-stained top. Strands of hair were pressed to his forehead, but he quickly ran his hands through them and pushed them back, making a mess of curls on his head. He started to look your way, so you quickly averted your eyes. The magazine on the table sure was interesting, huh?

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. You could detect his shortness of breath in the way he was talking.

“Hi,” you said, shooting him a smile as if this were the first time you had laid eyes on him. “Have a nice run?”

“It could have been better.”

He bent down to untie his shoes. His shirt - which really should have been considered a tank top, considering how much of the sides he had cut away - fell forward, revealing his sweaty chest underneath. You only stared for a moment before ripping your eyes away, already feeling your cheeks get hot. It just so happened that this was the moment that Tyler walked into the room. He caught your eye and wiggled his eyebrows, which earned him an eye roll.

“You know you want him,” he mouthed.

“Shut up,” you mouthed back.

Josh finally stood up and stretched. Though it was tempting to glance at him, you kept your eyes fixated on the posters hanging on the wall. Tyler already had too much ammo to tease you with as it was.

You were relieved when Josh finally went upstairs and you no longer had to overthink every glance in his direction. Tyler collapsed down onto the couch next to you and took a long sip of his drink before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Should I even say it?” he asked.

“It wouldn’t work, Tyler.”

“How do you know? Have you dated him before?”

The shower started to run upstairs.

“I don’t need to date him to know.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but that’s a little ridiculous.”

You turned to look at Tyler, letting your head roll back so that it was rested on the cushions. He took a sip of his drink and raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

“It’s not! All it takes is one glance at us to know that we’re complete opposites, and we’re always poking fun at one another about it. He’s outgoing, confident, charming, willing to take risks… we really couldn’t be more different.”

“Haven’t you heard that opposites attract?”

“Haven’t you heard that’s bullshit?” you scoffed.

“Are you kidding? Josh always flirts with shy people because he thinks it’s cute.”

“Well he’s never flirted with me, so that must mean that he doesn’t think I’m cute.”

“Now that’s bullshit if I ever heard it,” Tyler snorted.

“Name one time Josh has ever flirted with me.”

“Are you kidding? You two were all over one another at the arcade the other night.”

“I was trying to beat him at skeeball!” Tyler shot you a look. “What?”

“All I’m going to say is that he wasn’t having a skeeball competition with anybody else.”

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever, Ty.”

“Come on, Y/N, will you at least give it a shot? One date?”

“I’m not putting our friendship at risk for the sake of one date that wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Tyler sighed loudly. “One,” he said, dramatically holding up his pointer finger, “one date is not enough to ruin a friendship if the friendship is strong enough. And two,” his middle finger flicked up to join the first, “one date is enough to tell you everything. How many times have you called me after a first date to tell me about how it wasn’t going to work out?”

You crossed your arms across your chest. Tyler was right and you both knew it.

“I’ll try, alright? But I’m going to take it at my own pace. And I don’t want there to be any meddling.”

“No promises,” Tyler grinned - a pit formed in your stomach - and leaned over to bump your shoulder with his own.

Before you had a chance to plead with Tyler not to get into the middle of it all, Josh came back downstairs. He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a loose tank top, though it wasn’t as revealing as the one he had worn on his run. His hair, no longer sweaty, was still soaking wet and falling in loose curls around his face. Water dripped from them, running down his collarbone until they hit the hem of his tank top. Tyler gently reached over and pressed on your chin so that your mouth was no longer hanging open.

“What did I miss?” Josh said, grabbing the neck of his tank top and using it to wipe away a stray droplet of water.

“Not much,” Tyler chimed in before you had a chance to. “We were just talking.”

“Were you dying of boredom without my presence?” Josh grinned.

“You wish,” you scoffed. Tyler shot you a look, clearly unamused by your sarcastic remark in place of flirting. You shot him an apologetic smile when Josh wasn’t looking.

“So, Y/N, Tyler said you’re going to be staying with us for a few days,” Josh said. He slowly made his way into the living room and lowered himself onto a chair, obviously still feeling the effects of his morning run. His legs stretched out, making his shorts slip just a little bit further up his thighs. The hangnail on your thumb suddenly became very interesting.

“Unfortunately,” you said, looking up for just a second to meet his eyes.

“Oh, come on, am I that bad?” he stuck out his lower lip. You chewed on your own to hide the smile threatening to overtake your face.

Distracting was a better word.

“Tolerable,” was the one that left your mouth, however. “Most of the time.”

“You know,” he said, holding his hands up in defeat, “I’ll take it.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” Tyler sighed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.

Josh answered, “Three days-”

“-give or take-” you chimed in, wincing a little as you pulled on the hangnail too hard.

“-of fun.”

“Fun,” he nodded. “Right.”

“Alright, I’m back,” Tyler said, gently sitting back down on the couch and resting his cup of water against his legs. “Everyone ready?”

You and Josh answered with mumbled agreement. After a busy afternoon of reading and writing music - ok maybe your afternoon wasn’t that busy - the three of you had settled in the living room to watch the latest Netflix series together. The plan had been to only watch a few episodes and then go on a late night drive together, but it ended up sucking all of you in. Now, half past midnight, you were all still lounging in the living room watching the fifth episode of the series.

“This is the last episode for me, though,” you said. “I need to sleep at some point.”

“Good plan,” Josh nodded.

You turned to smile at him - the two of you had been getting along really well all night and you were beginning to think you might be able to follow Tyler’s suggestion after all - but your eyes went directly to his phone. His fingers were flying across the screen as he typed out a message to someone whose name you couldn’t quite make out. It only took one winky face emoji for you to figure out the nature of the message he was sending.

Maybe you didn’t even need one date to tell you everything.

Josh slipped his phone back into his pocket and you pushed yourself a little further into the couch, stretching your legs just enough that you could jam your toes into Tyler, a form of subtle punishment for getting your hopes up. He playfully pushed them away and you relented, not wanting to make him genuinely angry. He had only been trying to help, and it’s not like he had any control over Josh’s dating app habits.

You tried to get comfortable and pay attention to the show, but thoughts about Josh kept creeping back into your mind. It didn’t help that the fan in the corner of the room kept carrying the scent of his shampoo towards you. It was clean and nice and reminded you of mornings on tour when Josh would join you at the table to eat his cereal and ask you how you slept and tease you when you would tell him he was in your dream. Because that’s what you did: you teased one another and poked fun at your dating habits and most definitely didn’t flirt.

You pulled your sweatshirt up over your nose so that the only thing you could smell was your laundry detergent and the musty smell of your apartment that lingered on everything you wore. Now was not the time to have a crisis about your relationship with Josh and overthink every little interaction you had ever shared.

Thankfully, the show started to get interesting and your thoughts were quickly overwhelmed with trying to keep up with what was happening on the screen. Even though he was right at the corner of your vision, Josh was far from at the forefront of your mind.

“No way!” Tyler said, sitting up so fast that the water in his lap spilled all over your legs and the couch. He was still too preoccupied with the plot twist to notice. “She was- and he- you’re kidding!”

“Tyler!” you groaned, already feeling the water soaking through the material of your sweatpants to your legs.

“Oh shoot,” he said, finally noticing the mess he had created. “Hold on.”

Tyler quickly set his cup down and ran up the stairs. You gently removed your legs from the puddle that had formed and tried not to drip more water all over the place.

“So much for having a dry place to sleep,” Josh said.

Shit. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“I’ll just steal Tyler’s bed,” you sighed. “It’s his mess, he can pay the price.”

“Good luck with that.”

Tyler returned, now carrying a number of towels in his arms. He haphazardly tossed them onto the couch and started to pat at them, which seemed to be doing a surprisingly good job at soaking up the water. You grabbed one of the smaller ones and started to dab at your sweatpants.

“Hey, Dun, want to stop flirting and get off your phone for long enough to help us clean up this mess?”

“I don’t know, looks like you have it covered,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

“We do,” Tyler said, glancing at you.

“So it’s cool if I head up to bed?”

“Go for it.”

“Goodnight, guys.”

“See you tomorrow,” you said.

“Goodnight.”

You watched as Josh disappeared up the stairs and around the corner. After your talk with Tyler earlier in the day, tonight had not gone like you had hoped.

“Don’t even say it because I’m really not in the mood to hear it,” you said, standing up and throwing the towel down on the couch. “And don’t turn around.”

“Roger that,” he said. You could hear him continuing to dab water off the couch.

A new sense of frustration washed over you as you stripped off your sweatshirt in favor of an oversized Death Cab for Cutie shirt Tyler had bought you as a “congratulations for completing your first term of college” gift. He had given it to you the same day he announced he wouldn’t be coming back next term. At the time, you had been afraid that your newly formed friendship with him wouldn’t last, but here you were years later.

“Where am I going to sleep tonight?” you asked, failing to keep the edge of frustration out of your voice. You tossed your wet sweatpants over the back of the chair and pulled on your pajama shorts.

“With Josh.”

You snorted, “Very funny. You know, I’m beginning to think all the stuff you said about him flirting with me was bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit and I’m not kidding.”

You finished tucking your clean sweatshirt away in your bag and turned to face Tyler, expecting him to have his usual dorky “got ya” grin on his face. When you realized he was just casually scooping up the now damp towels, your stomach sunk.

“You’re not serious?”

“I am!”

“Tyler Joseph, you are not making me sleep in the same bed as Josh.”

“Watch me.”

You started to sprint towards the stairs - Tyler couldn’t kick you out of his bed if you were already in it - but Tyler was faster, even with the towels in his hands. He took the stairs two at a time and slipped into his bedroom, closing the door just before you could get a foot inside.

“Tyler, please,” you said, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it.

“Work it out.” His voice was muffled through the door.

You sighed. Once Tyler had his heart set on something, there was no changing his mind about it. That door was not going to open until he wanted it to, and your unwillingness to sleep in the same bed as Josh was not a good enough reason for him.

You stood in the dark hallway for a few minutes, contemplating the options that currently stood in front of you:

Suck it up and ask Josh if you could stay in his room for the night.

Sleep on the wet couch and deal with the discomfort.

Go home and spend another night in your sweltering apartment.

Sleep on the floor.

You groaned and childishly stomped your foot against the ground, not liking any of your choices. On the other side of the door, you could hear Tyler casually getting ready for bed without a care in the world. He didn’t have to worry about a broken air conditioning system or a stupid boy or where to sleep.

Stupid Tyler.

“Is everything ok out here?”

Could this night get any worse?

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, turning to face Josh. Your jaw nearly dropped upon seeing him. Sure, you had seen him in pajamas countless times on tour, but never like this. He was wearing a pair of Adidas sweatpants that were resting way low on his hips. You couldn’t help the way that your eyes slid up his torso until they met his. Some of his curls were falling into his eyes, which you really hoped meant he couldn’t see how blatantly you were ogling him right now. His mouth curled into a smile around the toothbrush that was half-hanging out of his mouth. Think, Y/N, think! What were you going to say? “I just thought I would be able to bargain with Tyler since he… you know, with the couch? But since I’m standing in the hall, you can probably figure out how that went.”

“Classic Tyler,” Josh said, pulling his toothbrush back out of his mouth so he could speak. “You know, you could sleep in here if you wanted. My bed is big enough for the two of us.”

You hated that Tyler’s plan was working.

“Um, yeah, sure. I just need to finish getting ready for bed.”

“Cool, just hop in whenever you want.”

How was he being so nonchalant about this?

“Will do,” you said, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He laughed quietly and disappeared back into his room.

You took your time going through your nightly routine, trying to put off having to be in the same bed as Josh for as long as you could. Tyler was probably laying in his own bed right about now, completely alone, feeling satisfied with the work he had done in pushing you and Josh closer together. The thought of it was enough to make you want to kick down his door and chew him out for putting you in situations like this, even if deep down you knew he was just trying to help you out.

Josh was already in bed when you walked into his room, scrolling through his phone. His torso was no longer on full display, but the light of his phone was illuminating his features. You made an effort not to stare as you walked over and slipped under the covers. The blanket was thick, but the fan at the end of the bed was producing enough air to offset the warmth. Besides, any amount of cool air was an improvement from the absolute hell that you had woken up to earlier that morning.

“Are you comfortable?” Josh asked. They were the first words you had exchanged since you entered the room.

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me sleep in here, by the way.”

“I wasn’t about to let you sleep on the soaking wet couch. You’re supposed to be comfortable while you stay here, not dealing with an issue that’s just as bad as a furnace apartment.”

“Tell that to Tyler,” you snorted.

“You should give him a bad Yelp review.”

You and Josh both laughed.

“I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”

The two of you exchanged some more small talk before finally deciding that you should get some sleep. After your friendly conversation - that featured a few flirty remarks on both sides - you were feeling a little bit better, though you couldn’t deny the tension you felt now that the room was quiet. It was like you could feel every little shift in his sleeping position and all the heat radiating off of him and hear every tiny change in his breathing.

And it was making it very hard to get some sleep.

You carefully rolled over onto your other side, which meant that you were now facing Josh, hoping that the change in position would relax you a little bit. After checking the time, and realizing you had spent nearly half an hour trying to fall asleep to no avail, you closed your eyes and tried to calm your mind. All you had to do was get to sleep, then you didn’t have to worry about Josh anymore. He would become a problem for you to deal with in the morning.

Unfortunately, sleeping Josh had different ideas. He rolled over, leaving his nose inches from yours, and flailing his arms all over the place. Your hands were just barely touching, sending tingles into your arm and erasing what tiny bit of tiredness you had managed to accumulate. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest from just that tiny bit of contact.

And you were supposed to spend all night in a bed right next to him?

Suddenly overwhelmed, you shot out of bed, tripping a little over the mess of blankets you had made while trying to fall asleep. Josh sat up instantly, his hands splayed out on the bed behind him, holding him up. He squinted, looking around the room until his eyes landed on you.

“Are you ok?”

“I can’t-” you heaved, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Do what? What’s going on? Are you awake? Am I awake?”

“We’re both awake,” you said, resting a hand on your chest.

Josh slowly threw the covers off of him and got up, walking around the bed until he was standing across from you.

“What is going on, Y/N?”

“It’s just you and me in the bed and it’s overwhelming and I don’t know what to do.” The words were spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “First it’s the teasing and Tyler’s remarks and the pretty people on Tinder that are so much better than I’ll ever be and now I’m here in your bed and you’re right there and I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking about all of it…”

“Hold on, slow down, I don’t understand,” Josh said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I like you, Josh, a lot. And I know I tease you and act like I don’t, but I really, really do.”

Josh closed the space between you, resting his hands on your cheeks with just enough force to finally get you to look at him. His eyes were shining.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

His lips crashed into yours and he tasted like toothpaste and smelled like shampoo and his skin was warm underneath your fingertips but not sweaty and you were completely lost in him. You liked the way his calluses brushed against your cheeks and how his lips fit perfectly with yours. You liked a lot of things about him, really.

“Sorry, that was really embarrassing,” you mumbled when he finally pulled away.

“It was cute.”

“Me practically falling out of your bed because our fingers brushed for half a second and then ranting at you incoherently at two in the morning is not cute,” you laughed.

“If I brush against your fingers right now, will it happen again?” Josh smiled, leaning close enough to you that his nose pressed against yours. His fingers ghosted the length of your arm and eventually brushed against your hand, his pointer finger just barely curling against yours.

“All my cards are already on the table.”

“I like your cards.”

“What?” you giggled.

“I don’t know where I was going with that,” he laughed with you.

“Thirty seconds into this… whatever it is and you’re already losing your cool.”

Josh grinned. “What can I say? You just do that to me.”

“Alright, that’s it, we’re going back to bed,” you said, grabbing Josh’s arm and dragging him back towards the bed.

“What do you think Tyler will say when we tell him about this?”

“I can already see the look on his face when we tell him he was right,” you sighed, sliding back under the covers. Josh joined you and opened his arms, inviting you to lay on his chest.

“If it makes you feel any better, he has to deal with us for the next few days.”

You smiled, “If we’re lucky, he has to deal with us forever.”

“I like the sound of that.”

When Josh leaned down to kiss you again, the entire world faded away.

#josh dun #josh dun x reader #josh dun fluff #josh dun angst #twenty one pilots #josh dun imagine #josh dun drabble #josh dun fanfiction #twenty one pilots x reader #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots drabble #twenty one pilots fanfiction #fluff #angst #skeleton clique #blurry-fics

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noladyme · 4 years

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Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 1, Nightmares I

A young woman with deadly nightmares comes across two brothers, who have a mission. The mission of saving people, and hunting things – maybe even the woman herself.

Our story starts towards the end of season 3.

This is the first part of this series. Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list.

Nightmares I

I’ve usually always slept really well during thunder storms. It was like a lullaby to me. This night, though, was different. In fact – the last week, I’d been struggling to get a good night’s rest at all. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fall asleep – I’d been dozing off within minutes every night – but my dreams had been terrible, and I’d wake in shudders; sometimes with tears streaming from my eyes.

First, darkness – a darkness so intense, I was sure no light could break it. Then I’d hear screaming; pleading. I’d try to move towards the voice – always a new voice, in every dream. “Please… don’t. No! It hurts. I can’t breathe… stop…” I’d finally see a small light, and move towards it; reaching in the dark. I’d get closer to the light, finally seeing the person screaming. Putting my face against the light; I would be looking down at them – and see their terrified faces, as they gasped for breath. Something was holding them down; strangling them. I would look down, and see that it was me. I’m sitting astride my victim. My hands – my long fingers and claws – are around their neck. My black hair is falling down over their body, like tentacles squirming around their limbs – squeezing. They’re gasping – struggling to get me to get off them. Their hand reaches for my face, and scratches my neck. I’m too strong. Give me your last breath.

I sat up, screaming. A blast of thunder jolted me even further, and I sprang out of bed, running out of my bedroom. I spent the rest of the night shaking on my couch.

---

In the morning, I went into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes where gaunt – I looked like hell. On my neck where three red scratches. I must have hurt myself in my sleep, I thought.

It was a Thuesday, and I had work. 1’st grade wouldn’t teach itself, after all – so I got dressed. Blue jeans, and a sweatshirt. At least I could look comfortable, even if my body felt like I’d been running a marathon. I put on some makeup; trying to cover the scratches and dark circles under my eyes; but decided to forego any serious work on my hair – letting it hang loose, and slipping a scrunchie over my wrist; just in case.

I got in my old Ford, and drove to work; tuning in to the news on the radio. “… another strange killing last night. Harry Parker came home from a company retreat, to find his wife – Gloria – dead in their bed. Preliminaries show that Mrs. Parker was strangled in her sleep…”. That’s one every night for a week, I thought to myself, and shuddered.

Work was excruciating. I was unsure whether it was the kids who were unruly; or myself who just didn’t have the energy to be the usual bubbly miss Moore. I was packing up my things at the end of the day, when the principal of my school came into my classroom. “Lulu?”, she said. “Hey, Marion”, I smiled. My boss was in her usual getup. A powersuit, glasses; and her dark hair in a bun on top of her head. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you… You’ve seemed a bit preoccupied this last week”, she muttered. I shrugged. “Just haven’t gotten much sleep”, I said. “I think it’s moving into my new place. Old ghosts”, I grinned. She narrowed her eyes at me. “At least you got out of that motel-room”, she said. “Yes! Thanks for hooking me up with that place”, I smiled. “I really appreciate it”. She smiled brightly back at me. “I just knew a guy who knew a guy, who owned the building”. “Either way, thank you”, I said. “A full month of living next door to random strangers travelling through, isn’t much of a home”. She nodded.

She stepped forward, and put a hand on my shoulder. Her grasp was cold; and sent a shiver down my spine. “Are you ok?”, she asked earnestly. “Yes! I’m great. Really”, I smiled. “You know, you can talk to me… Your colleagues speak highly of you, and the kids love you”, she said. “I’d just hate it if you burnt out”. “I won’t, I promise”, I said. “I’ll look in to some… herbal medicine”. She frowned. “Valerian! Not… I don’t do that kind of stuff. Drugs, I mean”. She nodded. “Good. Well… let me know if I can help”. She left the room – leaving me behind blushing in embarrassment.

I decided to go to the library. It had always been my sanctuary as a kid; whenever I felt in need of some kind of comfort. The large building was mostly abandoned, except for a few teenagers making out between some shelves. The sight made me smile. Been there, done that, kids, I thought.

I sauntered down a row of shelves, looking for anything to take my mind off things. I yawned – fatigue setting in; and decided to go over to the coffee machine by the librarian’s desk. Grabbing my extra strong, black caffeine kick, I stepped over to the librarian. “Excuse me?”, I whispered. “Yes?”. The elderly woman looked like she’d rather I was far away from her, and leave her to her organizing volumes of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “I was wondering if you could help me look up some books on nightmares? Maybe… night terrors?” “Huh… you’re the second person to ask that today”, she muttered. “Row 13. Upstairs”. “Thank you”, I muttered. “Hmm”, she answered, and looked down at her papers again.

I took the stairs, and found row 13. Banishing Night Terrors and Nightmares: A Breakthrough Program to Heal the Traumas That Shatter Peaceful Sleep. It sounded promising, and the writer apparently had a PhD. I sat down at one of the large tables in the middle of the room, and opened the book to read the foreword. I sipped at my coffee. It was scorching, and tasted like stale sadness.

“Coffee here not up to scale?”, a dark warm voice said. I looked up. In front of me stood a smiling man – dark blonde, freckles, with bright green eyes – wearing a suit. He was attractive, but I was much too tired to flirt. “I’ve had better”, I muttered. “I bet”, he smirked, and sat down. “I think you have my book”. I raised a brow at him. “It’s the library’s book. And finders keepers”, I half smiled.

He chuckled. “I’m agent John Osbourne from the FBI”, he smirked, and flashed a badge. “Hmm… did you get here on the Crazy Train?”, I asked. He raised his brows. “Classic rock fan?”, he said. “Yeah, my folks where…”. I sighed. “Sorry; I don’t care. I’d really like to get back to my book”. “It’s the library’s book”, he smiled. “So, you like reading?”. I shook my head. “What?”. “Books… you like reading books”, he said. “Me too. I read… so many things”. “Like?”, I asked, disinterestedly. He cleared his throat. “Like… I read this one book…”, he chuckled nervously. “There was this… thing. You wouldn’t know it”. “Sure”, I muttered, and flipped a page in my book. “And coffee… You like coffee. I like coffee too…”.

An impossibly tall man came over to us. “Hey, I think I got what we need – except for one book”, he said to “John”. Blonde guy smiled. “This is my partner, Dave Walker”. I shook my head. “No…”, I said. “No?”, blonde guy said.

I closed the book. Tall guy looked down at it, and met my eyes for a second. “Could I trouble you for…”, he began. “No”, I said. “She says that a lot, apparently”, blonde guy said. “Look, we’re just…”.

I grabbed the book, and stood up. “No. You can’t have the book; I’m checking it out”, I said; and looked into the green eyes of blondie. “And, no; you can’t have my number”. He looked dumbstruck. “I wasn’t going to…”. “Yes, you were”, I said. “At least you were heading in that direction. So, have a nice day. Bye”.

I walked down the stairs, leaving the two men behind; feeling strangely awesome about my quick wit – in spite of how exhausted I was. Checking out the book, I then got in my car; and rolled down the window, to let the air keep me awake on my drive home.

A hand grabbed the window frame. Blonde guy was leaning against my car. “Nice car”, he said. “No it’s not”, I said. “It’s a piece of crap, but it gets me around. Now please go away”. He looked at me earnestly. “You forgot your coffee”, he said; handing me the paper cup. He’d added a lid for me. “Thanks”, I muttered, and took it from him – our fingers touching for a second; making me swallow hard from my sudden dry mouth.

I scratched my neck for a second. “Those are some pretty nasty cuts you got there”, the man said. “Your neck”. He narrowed his eyes. I covered the scratches with my hand. “Scratched myself in my sleep”, I muttered.

He sighed. “Look… I really need that book”, he said. “So do I”, I said. “And I already checked it out”. He widened his lips in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I came of a bit strong. I get that… I’d just really like to have a look at it. Please?”.

I tilted my head, and looked over his handsome features. At another time, perhaps, I’d have fallen for his charms. “First you admit, that you were going to ask for my number”, I said. He clenched his jaw. “Yes”, he nodded. “I was… Can I have the book now?”. “No”, I said; started my car; and drove out of the parking space.

“Oh, come on!”, I heard him yell after me. I smiled at him in the mirror.

---

Darkness again. A new voice. The light. “Get off me! Stop! I’m calling the… argh!”. The man underneath me is struggling against me. They all do. They never win. He grabs my arm, and squeezes it hard. There is no pain. Never pain. She will have the pain. Now give me your last breath…

I woke up sobbing and sweating. It was 3 am. Much to early to get ready for work; but I couldn’t stay in bed a minute longer. I went into the shower to rinse of the darkness and pain. Looking down at my arm, I noticed what looked like bruises from fingers. They were painful.

What the hell is happening to me?, I thought. I leant against the wall of the shower, and sank to the floor – letting sleep take over me again. This one is old. Not much breath left. “I… can’t breathe… no…”. Let it go. It’s mine. My nails dig in to the wrinkly skin on her throat. She’s going now… Give it. Mine…

I woke with a gasp. I knew the face of the woman in the dream. It was the librarian. The water had turned freezing; and I was shivering in fear and from being cold. I turned of the shower, and wrapped myself in my robe. Once in my small combined living room and kitchen, I brewed myself a large pot of coffee – there was no way I was going to let myself fall asleep again. It was too terrible.

In the morning I slipped on some black gym leggings. I’d never actually used them for working out, but they where comfortable. I grabbed my most comfortable bra, and softest t-shirt and zip up hoodie.

I drove towards the school; passing the library on the way there. Police cars and an ambulance was parked outside it. A shudder went through my body. I had to stop at a red light, and looked towards some police officers who where deep in discussion with two men wearing suits. One of them turned around, and I met the eyes of the FBI-agent who’d tried to steal my book the night before. A smile ghosted his face, and I felt my cheeks flush. His partner caught his attention; and he licked his lips for a nanosecond – sending very impure thoughts through my head.

The morning was normal – as normal as it could get, considering I was downing a cup of coffee every hour. I spent lunch in silence, picking at my food; when one of my coworkers – Nathan – came to sit by me. “Crazy about that librarian, huh?”. “What?”, I muttered. “You didn’t hear?”, he asked. “Old Mrs. Baskin down at the library. She fell asleep at her desk last night, and didn’t wake up. Someone strangled her in her sleep”. “She’s… dead?”, I croaked. “That usually happens when someone tries to kill you... It was weird. She was wet all over, but there was no water around”, he chuckled. “You’re looking tired, Lulu. You sure you’re up for work today?”. “I… dunno”, I whispered. “Just gotta get through the day”. I got up, and went over to the coffee machine, grabbing myself a large mug of please-let-me-stay-awake.

Going through the line of presidents with the kids; there was a knock at the door. Marion stepped in. “Lulu… Miss Moore”, she said. “Can I talk to you in the hallway?”. I looked at the room of starring kids. “Guys, I’ll be back in a second”, I muttered, and followed my boss into the hallway.

“What’s up?”, I said; trying for a smile. “Nathan told me about your conversation earlier. Said you seemed out of it”, she said. I shook my head. “Really, I’m fine”, I said. “Look, Marion…I really appreciate all your help this last month. And I swear I will make it up to you by being the best teacher I can. I honestly just need to settle in to my new place”. She smiled gently. “All right, Lulu. I trust you”, she said. “I’ll talk to Nathan. Tell him to be less nosey”. She winked at me. I shook my head. “Oh, no. You really don’t have to!”, I said. “It’s fine”, she said; and walked away.

Arriving in my apartment that afternoon, I brewed myself a large mug of chamomile. I had some crushed valerian root, and sprinkled a little in to the hot beverage – sipping carefully at the steaming drink. I went to bed early, and for the first few hours, it seemed I got some well needed comfortable sleep.

Green eyes are looking at me. He has a large grin plastered over his face, as he winks at me. He leans in, and seems to smell my hair; and I look up at him. “Let’s take that Crazy Train ride, huh?”, he smirks. I nod fiercely, as he drags me along towards a large soft bed; and we fall onto it, in each other’s arms. As his face comes close to mine; I part my lips – preparing for his kiss…

It’s so cold. I can’t open my eyes again. When I finally pry them open, it’s all – Darkness…

Good. I have her back. We can go now. The light. I see it. And I am straddling him. The one who is causing trouble. “What?... No!”. Shh, now. Time to go, troublemaker. Let me have it. My hands grasp his throat, and I squeeze. He strikes at me; hitting my side. She will feel that in the morning. “Get off me, you… ahh!”. Stop struggling. I squeeze harder. He is stronger than the old woman; but I had two last night. I am stronger. My hair entangles him – holds down his arms, so he cannot strike again. That’s it… let it go. His eyes roll back, and… there… It’s mine.

“Nathan!”, I yelped, as I sat up straight in my bed. This was even more terrifying than the librarian. I’d just seen myself strangle my coworker to death.

It was still very early, but I wouldn’t catch another minute’s rest; so, I decided to just get up, and get ready. No more of this crap, I thought. Best foot forward, Lulu. Shower, breakfast, coffee. I did just that; but as I pulled my black nightgown over my head, I winced from a pain in my ribs. Looking down, there was a beginning bruise on my ribs. I shook my head, and got under the shower – staying standing this time, so I wouldn’t doze off again.

I downed two mugs of steaming caffeine, and got dressed in my favorite jeans – comfortable, but just tight enough to show off my butt. A black tank, fluffy cardigan; and a bandana in my hair – in the best Rosie the Riveter style. I flexed my bicep in the mirror; and smiled at myself. Today was a red lipstick day for sure; and I applied my makeup – forcing myself to think happy thoughts.

---

I parked in my usual spot, next to where Nathan would usually park. His car wasn’t there, and I frowned slightly. Entering the school, I noticed a few of my coworkers whispering to each other, outside Marion’s office. “Good morning”, I smiled brightly at them. One of them looked down, while the other sighed heavily. “Have you seen Nathan?”, she said quietly. “He hasn’t called in sick, but he never showed up…”. “That’s… weird”, I croaked. Oh, no…, I thought. “I should get to class”.

At lunch, Nathan still hadn’t shown up. My desperate attempt of staying cheery, was getting very hard at this point.

I was listening to the kids go over their abc’s in the afternoon. My eyelids felt heavy. Suddenly – darkness… “No!”, I shouted. The kids all looked at me in surprise. “I’m… sorry”. I sped over to the cd-player in the corner. “All right, you little rock’n’rollers! Miss Moore needs a pick me up. Let’s get our dance on!”. The kids all whooped and grinned; as I put on Ramones’ version of the Spiderman theme. I always got a kick out of seeing the kids dancing around the floor, and jumping from tabletop to tabletop.

I got on to my own desk; and led the kids in a serious macarena to the beat. “Miss Moore?”, someone said. I was enraptured by shooting imaginary spiderwebs at the kids. “Miss Moore!”. I looked towards the door; and there stood Marion, and – holy crap – the two FBI agents. The green-eyed blonde was grinning from ear to ear, and bopping his head to the music. I instantly flushed red; and quickly got off my desk. “No, no!”, he chuckled. “Keep going!”.

I cleared my throat and looked at Marion. “Miss Moore. The…”. F B I she mouthed so the kids wouldn’t understand. “… are here. Could I trouble you for a moment?”. “Sorry, guys”, I smiled to the kids. “Why don’t you all draw a picture while I’m gone…”. I stepped into the hallway; avoiding eye contact with the two strangers. Marion sighed. “Lulu Moore; this is agents…”, she began. “We’ve met. She stole our book”, blondie smirked. The tall agent cleared his throat, and looked at his partner meaningfully. Marion frowned. “All right, well… Lulu… I don’t know how to tell you this”. She looked saddened; and grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket.

The tall agent furrowed his brows. “Miss Moore; your coworker – Nathan Palmer – was found dead a few hours ago, in his bed”. My jaw dropped. “Nathan is dead?”, I breathed. “How?”. “Strangulation”, the blonde agent said.

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. A dark look ghosted the blondes face. “We wanted to know if you knew of any enemies he might have had”, the dark-haired man said. “Your boss says you two were close”. I shook my head. “Not… close. We’d usually eat lunch together…”. Marion frowned. “Nathan had a tendency to be a bit… nosy. He’d spend a lot of time asking Miss Moore questions, and getting into her business. Wouldn’t you agree, Lulu?”. I grimaced. “No… I mean, sometimes…”, I rasped.

The tall agent sighed. “Look if there’s anything you could tell us. Anything at all…”. I shook my head. “I really don’t know…”, I muttered. The blonde smirked again. “Well, if you think of anything, give us a call”, he said. “Or even better, I’ll call you. What’s your number?”. I frowned at him: “Nice try, Ozzy”, I sneered. “Lulu, these are FBI-agents!”, Marion gasped. “Sorry”, I muttered sarcastically.

The tall man closed his notebook. “All right. If we have any more questions, we’ll call the office”, he said. Marion nodded. “Absolutely, agent. And go get Miss Moore’s telephone number from my secretary. She’s just down the hall”. The blonde man grinned; and I rolled my eyes. Thanks, Marion, I frowned internally.

The two men walked towards the secretary’s office, leaving me and Marion behind. The principal looked at me meaningfully. “I think you should go home. Get some rest”. I shook my head fervently. “No, Marion. I have to get back to class…”. “Go home. Come back Monday. I’ll get a sub for tomorrow”. She touched my arm. “You’re sleeping standing up. I get it… new job; new apartment… And to top it off, we get news of Nathan…”. She sniveled for a second. “But I need you at your best here”. “I’m sorry”, I muttered. She smiled. “It’s ok”, she said “Go. I’ll take over your class”. I went back inside my classroom, and gathered my things; muttering a goodbye at Marion and the kids.

---

I didn’t want to go home; but I also didn’t have anywhere else to go. Stopping by a grocery store, I grabbed every caffeinated drink I could find; and a bunch of easy microwave meals for the weekend. I needed to keep my strength up, stay awake. I didn’t know what was wrong with me; just that whenever I let myself fall asleep; someone would die.

It’s not your fault. That’s crazy, I kept telling myself – but deep down, I couldn’t avoid feeling like I had something to do with the deaths this last week. I drove home; blinking fiercely to keep my eyes from going blurry. I managed to drive somewhat straight down the road, but missed my turn, and had to go around the block to get back to my building.

I parked by a beautiful classic chevy. I’d always liked classic cars, even if I didn’t know anything about them. Grabbing my bag, I went upstairs to my apartment, and let myself in. The door to my bedroom was open; and I closed it. I am not going to bed, I thought. I opened the window to let in fresh cold air; and turned on my go to album at the moment; Fleetwood Mac’s self-titled album from 75. Monday Morning Blasted through the speakers; and I smiled at the cheery tune. I opened my book.

“Sleep terrors are classified as a parasomnia — an undesirable behavior or experience during sleep. Sleep terrors are a disorder of arousal, meaning they occur during N3 sleep, the deepest stage of non-rapid eye movement (NREM) sleep. Another NREM disorder is sleepwalking, which can occur together with sleep terrors.”

Lindsey Buckingham’s voice leading me through the song had me bopping my head; but the shuffle setting I’d set the album on, led to Stevie Nick’s more somber voice; singing Landslide. I loved that song. It was so calming; and made relax.

Darkness… She’s asleep again…

A knock at the door jostled me before the dream turned for the worse. I was relieved; and told myself to kiss whoever had woken me up.

I opened the door. Outside stood blonde guy, and tall guy. “Hi”, blondie smiled. “No…”, I said. “You keep saying that”, he grinned. “Can we come in?”. I shook my head. “No!”, I said.

He pushed pass me, and stepped in to my apartment. Both men where wearing jeans and flannel shirts, instead of the suits I’d seen them in before. “Dean…”, tall guy said. “What happened to John?”, I snarled, as tall guy passed me. Blonde guy looked at me angrily. “What are you doing here? And please leave!”. “Just here to finish a job”, blond guy said, and pulled out a large knife.

My heart in my throat, I grabbed my phone. “I’m calling the cops…”, I croaked. Tall guy took my phone out of my hand; and I sprang for the open door. Blondie jumped in front of me, and closed it in front of me. I began backing away from him. “Please… just take whatever it is you came for, and leave. I won’t tell anyone…”, I breathed. Blond guy stepped towards me.

“Dean!”, tall guy said. “We don’t know for sure…”. “It all leads back to her!”, blonde guy said. Tall guy put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Please, miss Moore… sit down. We just want to talk to you”. He coaxed me towards the recliner by the open window, and I wondered for a second if I could make the jump. “You’ll break you neck”, blondie said coldly; almost as if he’d heard my thoughts. “Dude! You’re scaring her!”, tall guy said. “Good”, blonde guy said.

Tall guy sighed, and sat down on my couch. “I’m Sam Winchester. This is my brother; Dean”, he said. “We’re here because we think you might – somehow – be involved in the killings hitting this town lately”. “I have nothing to do with that”, I rasped. “Are you cops?”.

Dean chuckled. “Far from it”, he muttered. “Stevie Nicks… heard she was a witch. Friend of yours?”. I looked at him exasperatedly. “What are you talking about? And could you put that knife away?”. Sam looked at his brother; who rolled his eyes, and slipped the knife into its holster again. “Miss Moore, you were one of the last people to see the librarian alive”. “Mrs. Baskin”, I muttered. He nodded. “Then there was your coworker, Nathan – on top of numerous other cases of strangulations when people where sleeping”. “I heard”, I said. “But like I said, I have nothing to…”. “Yes… that may be true”, Sam said. “But we need to be sure”, Dean grunted; looking at me warily.

I was beginning to get mad. “Look, you come in here like you own the place; threaten me with a knife; and accuse me of killing people”, I growled. “Who the hell are you?”. Sam sighed, and looked out the corner of his eye at his brother. I was beginning to see the family resemblance – though they seemed very different from each other. “We’re hunters”, he said. “Yesterday, you were FBI… Look, I don’t have any deer here, so you can go”.

He frowned at me, looking like a sad puppy. “You look really tired. When did you last sleep?”, he asked. I shrugged. “I sleep… all the time. Just haven’t…”. I sighed. Dean went to sit by his brother. “Bad dreams?”, he muttered. I nodded. “Hence, the book”, he said, looking down at the volume still laying open on my coffee table. “They’re… horrible”. I swallowed. “Have you experienced anything strange lately? Maybe in your apartment? Cold spots?”, Sam asked. Dean pulled out an electronic device from his pocket, and stood up – seemingly scanning the room. I chuckled. “Seriously? What are you? Ghostfacers?”. Dean looked offended. “Excuse me?”, he sneered. Sam waved him off. “Really… has anything changed in your life lately?”.

I shrugged. “I don’t know you. Why should I just let you know everything about me?”. “Because… we genuinely want to help”, Sam said. “Whatever is happening, it comes back to you”. “How?”. “Those scratches on your neck…”, Dean said. “They found skin samples under the nails of Gloria Parker”. “That doesn’t prove anything…”, I muttered.

“When did you fall asleep Tuesday night?”, Sam asked. “I don’t know. Around… midnight. Woke up at 3”, I said. “Don Winslow”, Dean muttered. “You fall asleep again?”. “In the shower”, I whispered. A smile ghosted Deans face. “The librarian. She was wet when they found her”, Sam said. “There were two deaths that night. Then last night, your coworker, Nathan”. “And a close call earlier today”, Deans said. “A homeless man sleeping on a park bench was brought back to life; with strangulation marks on his throat – around 1 pm”. I shuddered. “I dozed of for a few minutes by my desk”, I said.

The men looked at each other. “We’re gonna need you to stay awake tonight”, Sam said. “We need to test a theory”. “What?”, I said coldly. “That I’m sleepwalking, and killing people in my sleep?”. The both looked down. “Seriously?”, I cried out. Dean shrugged. “Better brew some coffee, sweetheart. It’s gonna be a long night”.

---

I was stuck in my apartment with two strangers; without access to my phone, which Sam kept in his pocket – while his brother was hovering over me. I drank about a pint of coffee, and was beginning to get hungry. “I need food”, I said quietly. “If you’re gonna hold me hostage, at least feed me”. Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I could go for a burger”, he said. “What you got?”. “I’m not cooking”, I snarled. “It’s ok!”, Sam smiled, trying to ease the tension. “We’ll go get something”. “You’re leaving?”, I asked, trying not to sound relieved. “No”; Dean said. “Sam will go. I’ll stay here”. “Awesome”, I muttered. Deans eyes had a tint of amusement.

“Sammy… Burgers. Fries. You know the rest”. Sam stood up. “Fine… Lulu?”, he asked. “Cheeseburger and fries. No tomatoes. Jalapeño poppers with ranch; and chicken tenders”. Deans jaw dropped. “You are hungry!”, he smiled. “Not that hungry. But I’m pissed; and you’re paying”, I muttered. Sam went towards the door. “Oh; and pie”.

Sam sent Dean a look. The green-eyed man was grinning from ear to ear. “Double the pie”, he said. Sam left the apartment, and closed the door behind him.

I yawned. “Don’t fall asleep”, Dean said. “Have some more coffee”. “I’m already tweaking on that stuff”, I said. He raised a brow at me – his green eyes giving away his intentions. “There are other ways we could keep you awake”, he smirked. I frowned at him. “You held a knife to me just an hour ago. No thanks”. He looked down. “Yeah, sorry about that”. He stood up, and began walking around the room. “Music?”.

I gestured towards my rack of cd’s. Usually I’d use my phone for music, but it was grabbing food with Sam. Dean looked down the rack. “Boyband fan, huh?”, he said. “I went to high school”, I muttered. “Never get rid of cd’s. I used to hide my favorite albums whenever friends came over”. “What albums?”, he asked. “Top drawer in the dresser with the stereo”.

Dean opened the drawer. “Mötley Crüe! Oh yeah… Cheap Trick…”. “Got some LP’s on the bookshelf”. He spun around and looked at me. “You have LP’s?”. I shrugged. “Yeah?”.

He sped over to my bookcase. “Sex Pistols. Queen. Rolling Stones… Lady, you’re sitting on a goldmine in music!”. “I know”, I said. “Listen to anything else?”. “Sure. Whatever catches my ear. But I like classic rock. Saw AC/DC live a few years back”. Deans jaw dropped again. “Seriously?”, he gasped. “Really? What was it like?”. He was like a kid on Christmas eve. “It was… so awesome”, I admitted with a grin. “I flashed Angus while he played the riff to It’s a Long Way to the Top…”. He shook his head. “If you weren’t a witch, I’d ask you to marry me”.

I flinched, and looked at him angrily. “I’m not a witch”, I said. “And no thanks. I like my men a little less… knifey”. He chuckled. “Fair enough… nothing wrong with living in sin”. I couldn’t help but smile.

He went back to the drawer, and pulled out High Voltage – putting it on. He skipped straight to Can I Sit Next to You Girl. “No”, I said. “You can’t. You stay over there”. He shrugged, and went over to my fridge. “You got beer. You mind?”. “Go ahead. Give me one”, I said. “Nope”, he said; opening a cold one for himself. “Alcohol makes you drowsy”.

I sighed. “I’m gonna go take a shower”. I stood up, and walked towards the bathroom door. Dean followed. “What do you think you’re doing?”. “Need to… make sure you don’t fall asleep. Or run away”. I looked at him, and smiled – taking a backwards step into the bathroom. Dean smirked at me, and lifted a brow. I slammed the door in his face. “Fine!”, he called from the other side of the door. “Make it a cold shower; keep you awake. And talk to me”. I quickly undressed. “What do you want me to say?”, I called out. “That you’re creepy for talking to a woman while she showers?”. I heard him chuckle. “What class are you teaching?”. “I thought you already knew everything about me”, I said; turning on the shower. “And you saw the kids. They look like teenagers to you?”. “I was more focused on the chick dancing on her desk”, he chuckled. “Come on…”. I sighed, and stepped under the cold water. “I’m a first-grade teacher”, I said. “Cool. Abc’s and stuff?”. “And stuff”, I replied. “You like it?”, he asked. I imagined him leaning against the door. “Yeah. It’s ok. New job”, I said. “Since when?”. “About a month ago”.

The cold water made me shiver – or it might be the fact that a pretty damn good-looking man was standing just on the other side of the door, as I was buck naked. “Lived here long? You still got some boxes around”, he said. “A little over a week”, I said; scrubbing my scalp with shampoo. “Huh”, he said. “Anything weird going on here?”. “Other than the occasional strangers showing up and shifting between threatening me, and flirting with me?”. “I wasn’t… ok I was”, he chuckled. “But seriously”. “Your brother already asked me that. No. Nothing”.

Rinsing out the shampoo, I then stepped out of the shower. “Crap”, I said. “What? What’s wrong?”. Dean sounded worried. “I forgot a towel… and clothes…”, I muttered. “Do you want me to come in there?”. “No!”, I cried out. “Just… get my robe. It’s in the bedroom. Don’t go through my underwear!”.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door. “I got it”. I opened the door slightly, and stuck out my hand, to grab the robe from him. “Dude!”, I said; looking at the item now in my hand. “This is a towel the size of a stamp. Get my robe”. “Didn’t know where it was…”, he said. I could hear his smile on his voice. “You’re… just, turn around! Close your eyes…”. He didn’t answer. “Are they closed?”, I asked. “Yes…”, he said. “Really?”. A pause. “Ok, now they’re closed, I swear”.

I peeked out. Dean was covering his eyes, and had his back to the bathroom door. I quickly slipped behind him, and into the bedroom. Quickly, I put on clean underwear, and a pair of leggings. After putting on a bra, I slipped my Ramones t-shirt over my head. “You’re kind of sleazy, you know that?”, I called out. “Not the first time I’ve heard that”, he said. “I’m sorry. Really”.

I looked at my bed. It was so inviting, and I stifled a yawn. “Lulu?”, Dean called out. “You ok?”. I sat down on the bed, feeling my comforter under my hands. It was so soft. I could just lay back for a second, I thought. I leaned back, and closed my eyes.

Someone was rustling my shoulders. “Hey! Lulu. No, you don’t. Get up”. Dean put his arm behind my back, and made me sit up. “Come on, sweetheart. Time for more coffee”. He pulled me up to stand; and held me flush against him; patting my cheek gently. “You’re cute”, I smiled – before blinking fiercely, and shaking my head. “Wait… No. What?”. Dean grinned. “You’re not so bad yourself, Lou”, he said, and led me into the living room. “Caffeinate!”.

He poured me a glass of coke. “Here you go. Sugary gogo-juice”, he said, handing me the drink. I drank the whole glass in one go. “Thanks… sorry”, I muttered. “No shame in stating the obvious”.

Someone knocked the door. “Dean, it’s me. Food’s getting cold”. Dean opened the door, and Sam stepped in with a large bag that smelled heavenly. “Did you remember the pie?”, I asked. “Apple. Hope it’s ok”, he said; looking me over. “Why are you wet?”. “I showered”, I said. He frowned. “Cold shower”, Dean smirked. “Shut up”, I sneered.

I went to sit at the kitchen table, and gobbled down the burger quickly. The two men starred at me in wonder. “What?”, I asked, mouth pull of fries. “I love you”, Dean whispered. Sam smacked the back of his head. “How are you feeling, Lulu?”, he asked. “Tired, and ready for bed”, I admitted.

Sam looked around the room. AC/DC was still playing – the album having gone through all the tracks twice by now. “We should do something… keep you awake”, he said. “Do you play chess?”. I frowned. “That’d knock me out for sure”, I said. “A book?”, he tried. “Too tired to read”. “I could read to you…”, he said. “I’m sorry, but your voice is too soft to keep me awake. Especially if you’re reading to me”. Sam looked down in embarrassment; and Dean laughed at him.

“A movie! Something not boring”, he said. He found an old action-movie dvd I hadn’t seen in ages; and put it in the player. A group of antiheroes raced through the streets of Los Angeles, trying to get away from the cops. I paced the floor; knowing that if I sat down, I’d fall asleep.

I began clearing out the kitchen cabinets. I’d only just filled them a few days ago; but I needed something to do. Grabbing a clean cloth, I wiped down the shelves. Dean and Sam were both watching the movie – enraptured. If ever there was a time to run, this was it – but for some reason; I trusted them. Just a few hours ago, I was convinced they were there to rob and kill me, but now; there was something telling me I should go with their story of wanting to help – do the right thing.

I filled up the cabinets again. Dean stepped over to help – chuckling for a moment at my If it requires a bra or pants – it’s not happing today mug. I took the mug from him – and once again our fingers graced – sending tingles down my spine. Dean seemed a bit taken aback by the touch as well, and parted his lips slightly – looking away. I cleared my throat. “What time is it?”, I asked. Dean looked at his watch. “1 am… One of us should get some sleep”, he muttered. “The other keep watch”. I nodded somberly. “There’s no reason for any of you to suffer”, I said. “We should both stay awake”, Sam said. “Just in case. We’ve pulled all nighters before. We’ll be fine”. Dean nodded. He looked towards me. “You look like death though”, he said. “Like I said. Sleep hasn’t exactly been restful”, I muttered.

Sam stood up, and gestured for Dean to follow him into the corner. He began whispering to his brother. Dean frowned. “No… Won’t work… Because I already suggested it, and she said no!”. “I’m not having sex with your brother to stay awake”, I said. Sam looked embarrassed. “Sorry”, he muttered.

Deans eyes lit up. “We could take the Impala for a ride!”, he smiled. “Is that your chevy down there?”, I asked; my eyes lighting up. “That’s my baby”, Dean grinned. “I’m driving”, I said. Deans face looked offended. “You absolutely are not! You can’t see straight, and… no!”.

I sighed. “Ok… conversation it is, then”, I said. “Tell me about hunting. Do you go for big or small game?”. I went to sit by the kitchen table. Dean poured me another glass of coke. “We don’t exactly hunt game”, he said. “Not that kind of game, anyway”. Sam sat down across from me. “We hunt supernatural beings”, he said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but…”. “At this point I’m so exhausted, I’m hallucinating anyway. I’ll believe anything”, I chuckled. “Ever take down a vampire?”. The brothers looked at each other. “Really?”, I gasped. “Those are real? What about werewolves? Bigfoot?”. “The sasquatch has yet to be proved existing”, Sam said. My jaw dropped. “But… werewolves?”. Dean nodded.

“Holy crap… so what’s this thing you think I am?”. Sam frowned. “We don’t know if it’s what you are, as much as what might be using your body”. I furrowed my brows. “That sounds… rapey”. The tall man tried to smile. “I’m sure it’s not an incubus”, he smiled. “A what?”, I asked. “An incubus. Has sex with people in their sleep”, Dean said. “The male version of a succubus. They’re vampire-like”. “Creepy”, I muttered. “You have no idea. That’s a weekend I’m never getting back”, Dean said quietly.

I shook my head. “More… I’m dozing here”. Sam looked desperate. “Hobbies… you have hobbies, right?”, he said. I shrugged. “I like… books. Music. Used to play roller derby”. Dean looked exasperated. “Come on!”, he said. “When this is over – if you’re not a witch, or some other nasty thing – I’m asking you out”. I blushed slightly.

Sam smiled. “Roller derby… like, with a ball, right?”. “Dude…”, Dean said. “No. It’s the thing with the roller skates; and cute girls in fish net stockings”. I frowned. “Actually, fishnet stockings aren’t for everyone. It’s a feminist community of people of all genders; playing a contact sport on roller skates”. “You wore them though, didn’t you?”, he smirked. “Yes…”, I admitted. “They looked good on me”. “I’m sure they did”, he said.

“Why’d you quit?”, Sam asked, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “Busted my ankle three times in as many years”, I said sadly. “I loved it, but I can’t block like I used to. Took up dancing instead, for a while”. “Like ballroom?”, he said. “Burlesque”, I whispered. Dean went to stand by the wall, and banged his head against it. “Please don’t be a witch”, he said quietly.

“Anything else?”, Sam asked. I shrugged. “What about you?”. “Sammy used to do magic”, Dean said. Sam’s face lit up. “Sit still”, he said. He put his hand behind my ear; pulled a penny from behind it, a grin forming on his face. “Wow…”, I muttered. “Ever saw someone in half?”. “Not as a trick”, he admitted.

I shook my head, and stood up. “I need some fresh air”, I said, and went to stand by the window. The chilly wind hitting my face was soothing, and I closed my eyes. Suddenly someone was shaking my shoulders again. “Lulu!”. Sam and Dean where crouching by me, where I was laying on the floor. “You passed out”, Sam said. Both their faces where worried. I accepted Deans hand, and he pulled up to stand.

“Move around…”, he said, holding a hand to my back, and leading me on a tour of the room. “Sam, find some music. Anything fast”. Sam grabbed a cd from the rack, and soon Tearin’ Up My Heart was blasting from the speakers. He bopped his head, and smiled at us. I smirked back at him; while Dean frowned. “This isn’t gonna work, man”, he said. “She’s gonna pass out again”.

“Could you… maybe tie me down? Then I can’t leave, but still sleep”. They looked at each other. “It’s risky… no”, Dean said. “Please”, I begged. He looked at me with a gentle expression. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more than to tie you down”, he smiled. “But it would have to be under completely different circumstances”. I smiled at him. “Raincheck”, I said. He chuckled, and licked his lower lip – making me think exactly the same thoughts I’d had when I saw him at the library.

“Let’s just get through tonight”, Sam said. “We’ll let you sleep soon enough. Just stay with us”. I rubbed my face. “How long can a person go without sleep, before they go crazy?”, I rasped. “I don’t know”, he admitted. “But… around 10 days, before it becomes lethal”. “As in, I die”, I muttered.

Dean pulled my arm out, and examined the bruises on it. “From the looks of it, this thing is already doing some pretty nasty damage to her”, he said. “I’ll call Bobby. He’s got to have something by now”, Sam said. “Who’s Bobby?”, I asked. “A friend”, Dean said. “Yeah. Call him”. Sam went in to the bedroom to be able to hear the phone over the music.

A slow song came up. I halted in my track, and Dean put his hands on each of my shoulders. “I’ll change the music”, he muttered. I nodded, but the motion made me stumble forwards. He caught me in his arms; and I swayed from side to side. “Or… this is fine”, he muttered. He lifted my arms to place them around his neck; and put his own around my waist. “We’re dancing”, I croaked. “Sure are”, Dean said. “I lie awake. I drive myself crazy, drive myself crazy – thinking of you”.

Dean moved us around my living room floor; and suddenly dipped me – making my eyes widen in panic. “I got you”, he chuckled. “Haven’t danced like this since prom”, I smiled. “You’re good at this”. “I went to a lot of proms”, he muttered. “Jenny Sharp. Cathy McKlinsky. Susan Farrow – she was something else”, he grinned. “Why so many?”, I asked. “We moved around a lot. Our dad was a hunter too”. “No, I mean… why so many girls?”, I said. “One should be enough. You could have stayed in touch with… Jenny”. He shrugged, and dipped me again, making me laugh this time. “Not good at attachments”, he admitted. “I’m not surprised”, I chuckled. “Are you rethinking that marriage offer already?”. He smirked. “Maybe I found the one”, he said. I laughed out loud.

Sam returned to the room just as the song ended, and Dean lifted his arm to twirl me underneath it. “Susan Farrow?”, Sam muttered. Dean shrugged. “Bobby says to keep her awake a while longer. He’s working on some leads in Germanic folklore”. “Ok”, Dean said. “It’s almost 2 am. We can do this”. “Let’s take a walk outside”, Sam said. I shrugged, and went to get my sneakers.

---

Tag-list

@edonaspanca

@wonderlandfandomkingdom

#dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean x oc #supernatural #supernatural fic #sam winchester

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the-gedonelune-times · 5 years

Text

Oh What Fun!

Luca is feeling a little overwhelmed with this year’s visit to the Goldstein estate, luckily Elias has a plan to help ease his worries and bring fun for the whole family, thanks to a recent snowfall!

"I've already been here a few times and despite that, I don't know if I'll ever get used to this."

Luca commented as he put his luggage down and began brushing away the snow that still clung to him. After a long walk in the harsh weather conditions, he was relieved to be inside where it was warmer. Even the others let out a sigh of relief when they too dropped their luggage down to the floor the moment they entered the estate.

"Well, since you're dating our brother, you should probably start getting used to it. Our parents have already considered you to be a part of the family."

Alfonse teased, which prompted Elias to blush from head to toe, all while desperately trying to stop Alfonse from saying any more embarrassing.things. Of course, the whole commotion had alerted the attention of their parents who were now walking down the grand staircase to come and greet them.

"Boys!"

Marissa gripped the edges of her dress and pulled up enough so that she wouldn't trip over her dress as she ran to greet her sons. Once at the bottom of the stairs she quickly hugged all three of them until they began to complain of not being able to breathe. Then it was Luca's turn who was also now begging for her to stop before his bones turned to dust by such crushing force.

"I'm so glad to see my boys are okay. We heard about the weather taking a turn for the worse and your father and I were so worried. We were going to wait another fifteen minutes before sending out a search party to go and locate you."

"Yes, the weather is bad, but there's no need to even think of using such drastic measures."

"Perhaps in your eyes, but in mine, there's nothing I wouldn't do to ensure that my children are safe."

"Your mother can be quite careless sometimes, but her heart is in the right place."

"Oh dear me? I'm careless you say?" Suddenly, Mrs. Goldstein brought out her small paper fan and gently smacked it in Walter's face. "I suppose I am. I also suppose your father will be sleeping on the couch tonight."

With a triumphant smile, she turned away and left the area, leaving Walter to sigh and place a hand to his forehead.

"I'm going to ahead and have a word with your mother. You boys go ahead upstairs; put your things away, warm up and all that. We'll have dinner ready in a couple of hours. So enjoy your free time until then."

Walter hurried away and Alfonse and Klaus were the first ones to pick up their stuff and head upstairs.

"I suppose we should go ahead upstairs as well. Besides, taking a hot shower and getting into some clean clothes would be the best course of action considering we just trudged towards some crazy snowstorm after our carriage incident.."

"Prince Elias, if you're worried so much about me, just go ahead and say it."

Luca ended his sentence with a wink which caused Elias to grab his things and race up the stairs, but only after denying his statement with a flustered face. All Luca could do was laugh at how in denial his precious boyfriend was at the moment.

The minute that Luca got to his room, he shut the door, walked over to the bed and tossed the luggage down before plopping down on the bed. Probably not the best idea considering he was in rather cold and wet clothes. But he was exhausted and he wasn't sure if it was because of all the walking he had done already or if it was the feeling of stress that he still carried every time he set foot in the Goldstein estate. Probably both.

As he rolled over to the side, Luca got a good view of the outside through the large window in his room. It looked like the storm had died down significantly, leaving only a few snowflakes to be seen fluttering by the window. But the storm left its mark alright; everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow. There had to have been at least a few inches of snow covering the ground.

There was a knock on his door which was followed up with it opening after Luca had given permission for whoever was out there, to come in. To his surprise, Elias was now standing in his room.

"Oh hey, miss me already Prince?".

"T-That's not it, so shut up." Blushing, Elias looked away with a huff.

"If that's not the case, then why exactly are you in my room?"

A few moments of silence passed by before Elias let out a sigh and walked over and sat on the edge of the bed Luca was lying on.

"I came because I guess I was a little worried. You can be a pretty bad liar at times, like when you say you're fine with being here. Yet when I look in those eyes of yours, I see nothing but doubt. So.." Elias paused for a second. "I decided to come in and check on you to make sure you were doing alright."

"I appreciate it, but really, I'm okay right now. I'll admit, it's a little daunting coming here. I'm grateful that your family has been so accepting of our relationship, not to mention how nonchalantly they call me their son-in-law. It's almost like they want to hear those wedding bells toll soon."

Watching Elias go silent and practically go into shut-down mode from embarrassment, Luca decided to speak up.,

"Sorry, that was probably a little too much. But hey, if it makes anything better, I'll go ahead and say it right now; I'm not opposed to that happening soon in the future. But enough teasing. Is there something on your mind too?"

"Huh?"

"Did you not hear a word I said?"

"Yes and no. I zoned out with an idea. Although I did hear your teasing remarks, and in response to that, I say this. Prepare yourself Luca Orlem, for you'll regret teasing me so."

"What?"

"Hurry and get up out of bed, I want you to come outside with me for a surprise."

"What kind of surprise?"

"If I tell you, then what's the point in having it be a surprise?"

"Alright, fine, we'll do it your way. Just give me a few minutes."

"Meet me downstairs when you're done then."

It had been about ten minutes and Elias still found himself pacing back and forth at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed that he was in a bit of a trance, or perhaps he looked like he was about to solve the unsolvable. Whatever the case, Luca found it rather funny and chose not to disturb him until he got down to the last step. At that point, Elias stopped what he was doing and turned to look Luca in the eyes with a smile.

"Are you ready?"

"Sure, but what for?"

"As I said, you'll find out."

The opening of the front doors revealed much more snow than Luca though had fallen. There had to have been close to eight inches of snow on the ground right now. To think that much had fallen within a couple of hours was a bit mind-blowing;. But not as much as when he felt something cold smack him right in the face, blinding his vision for a few seconds. He began hearing laughter as he brushed away the cold from his face and when he looked over at the laughing, he saw Elias hunched over.

"Did you just throw that?"

"Yeah. What are you going to do about it?"

"Heh."

Scooping up snow in his gloves, Luca began to carefully shape it into a good size ball before lobbing it at Elias, hitting him directly in the face with such force that Elias found himself staggering backward from impact.

"Are you trying to kill me, you idiot?!"

"Nah, why would I want to do that to my prince? I'm just here to teach him a few tricks or snowball fighting."

"Hah! I'm not the one who needs teaching. Besides, what would you know about teaching anyone, you barely come to class."

"Ouch." Luca laughed before scooping up more snow. "Incoming!"

Elias was quick to dodge Luca's attack and quickly retaliated. But just like Elias, Luca had managed to dodge the attack and at the last second too.

"Nice one, princey, I guess you do know how to have fun."

Luca laughed while reaching down to grab some more snow. He was about to throw it when he heard a voice from behind him.

"What do you think you guys are do- ack!"

Luca had watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. A snowball was only mere inches from hitting his face, but had hit someone else entirely; yes, Klaus Goldstein took a snowball right to the face. Time stood still and no one said anything. Elias was frozen in fear, worried about the scolding he was about to get. Luca tried to form words and was unable too and Alfonse? Well, Alfonse hunched over and holding his stomach as he laughed.

"Oh, so I see that someone here thinks that this is funny."

"I'm hahaha! Sorry! I can't help it!"

"That so? Then you join in too!"

Klaus scooped up snow and didn't even bother forming it into a snowball before slapping it into Alfonse's face with a smile.

"You're right." Klaus started laughing. "This is funny."

What started as a friendly snowball throwing between Elias and Luca had now evolved into a full out snowball war between everyone. It was a battle royale on the snowfield and everyone was having a blast. Or they were until Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein walked out.to investigate what at the commotion was. That's when it hit them, or rather, Walter. Time stopped and everyone's face went pale as the snowballs they had dropped to the ground below, except for Klaus who put a hand to his mouth after having been the one to throw the snowball that had made a direct hit in the face of his father.

"Boys..." Marissa looked at her husband and then at them. "Great shot!"

"W-What?" Elias spoke up with wide eyes

"That was a perfect aim Klaus, but if you want to really do some damage then make sure you do it like so."

With her gloved hands, Marissa began to form a rather big and perfectly shaped snowball before lobbing it right at Walter who had just removed the last bit of snow from his face.

"See?" She began to laugh before being cut off mid-laugh with snow being tossed in her face from Walter.

"Are you boys just going to stand there like statues all day? Come on, let's start a snowball war like the old days."

Without another moment's hesitation, Walter and his wife began making snowballs, while Alfonse, Klaus, Elias, and Luca did the same. After a thrilling half-hour snow battle, everyone was now inside in a new fresh change of clothes and blankets. While everyone else was making some hot chocolate, Elias and Luca were sitting by the fireplace huddled up close to one another.

"So that snowball fight outside, was that your surprise."

"Yes." Elias smiled.

"But why?

"When I was younger my family and I would have snowball fights whenever it snowed. It usually happened when we were on breaks and we could take a step away from all the stress from work and academics. When I saw that look in your eyes, I decided to try eliminating any stress you had through some methods that I thought you'd like."

"Huh...you went through all this trouble for me. I guess I should actually thank you."

"This is probably the first time I've heard you thank me or pretty much anyone."

"Hey, now that's just mean."

"Heh.."

Leaning over, Elias gave a small peck on Luca's cheek before leaning back and sighing. Luca on the other hand just sat there with a small smile forming on his face before he made himself comfortable by resting his head against Elias's shoulder. They say that home is where the heart is and Luca, finally felt at home.

#wizardess heart #luca orlem #elias goldstein #klaus goldstein #alfonse goldstein #fluff #lulias #christmas prompt

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musicalmukebox · 5 years

Text

Let’s Get (Back) Together | l.h. (18)

Ctto of the gif above!!

AU: Parent Trap Dad!Luke

Summary: A strong love which led to a strong marriage and twin daughters. Yet in the end, it didn’t turn out so well. You strongly refuse to encounter him ever again. But what happens when both of you coincidentally send your twin daughters to the same summer camp in Florida after 10 years?

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: angst, mentions of sexual actions, mentions of infidelity, fighting, swearing, some fluff if you squint really hard

Long A/N: Are you shocked? Because same. So yes, I was gone for a loooong time and the reasons behind it were one, I got burnt out with ideas. two, I dealt with a lot of stress academically and mentally bec of issues with some family and friends. last, I had recently got an internship that required my full attention. But anyway, I am back!! If it weren’t for that free and exclusive show of 5sos last week, I would not have gotten inspired to pick up where we last left off Luke, (Y/N) and the twins. I love the boys so much and seeing them up close is literally a dream! If you think it’s impossible, it isn’t because I waited 6 years for a moment like that! Without further ado, here’s part 18!

I don’t own Parent Trap and its ideas. It’s only used as inspiration.

Masterlist!! → other parts are there!!

Main Series Playlist

Feedback/Constructive Criticism/Questions/Others? Here.

2024, Los Angeles

“I’m over this shit!” You screeched, throwing the tabloids at him you found upon grocery shopping. He was the main headline in the majority of them, where many mystery girls are always featured. You noticed that they were all younger and slimmer, not like how you ever were. This wasn’t the first time you’ve fought over tabloids these past months, and it drains and sickens you both out.

Spicy! Luke Hemmings and 22 year old girl spotted outside singer’s studio

Woah there! Australian singer from 5sos acting all smooth with new upcoming artist in Café Sweetener

Exclusive! Luke Hemmings and ex Arzaylea found dancing in the same bar?!?!

Luke took hold of the last tabloid mentioning the ex who shall not be mentioned, which was published by Perez Hilton. He’s always had a heavy dislike towards the band and told you already beforehand that. But with the influx of other material you attacked with, he’s frustrated how you were still gullible to bother with him in your marriage.

“Fucking hell (Y/N), you know they aren’t true!” He threw it on the floor, not startling you one bit.

“Explain yourself then, yeah? A new girl every fucking week.” With work and a recent injury in your arm from stunts, you were bombarded with stress. This rumor started out a few months ago, and you obviously shrugged it off because of outlets like starting unnecessary drama. Besides, your faith in your husband overcame it. But now it kept crawling back up, and you were sick of it. Was he being unfaithful? Is Luke really messing with you this time?

“Alright then.” He clenched his jaw and stood upright in front of you from the couch. You had your arms crossed, and he mimicked you. “The girl from the first article is a crazy fan who I shooed off respectfully, but she wasn’t budging. The second article, yeah she was a new artist, but she is also the youngest daughter of Jack Barakat and sought me as one of her mentors in music. Last, she threw herself at me while I was getting a drink out of nowhere!”

“The last article looks way too real to be fake! You’re lying!” You started feeling insecure, but yes, the main cover for the tabloid looked way too real to be a fake. For once, you were beginning to consider that Perez might be correct. You can’t stand that idea! “Also you’ve been distant lately too, and I’m not even sure if it’s because of work!”

As for Luke, how dare you indirectly accuse him of infidelity he thought? Unaware of you, he’s also up to date with issues about you and one of your castmates. He never approached it because he trusts you. Though based on how the angles were fixated, it looks too real and affectionate. He’s bottled it for too long because he doesn’t know what’s real.

“Oh babe, don’t take you’re the only one who’s been questioning that.” He hissed as he brings out his phone. Clicking on the tab, he exposed those articles to you in your face.

Feeling Cozy?? Actress (Y/N) (Y/L/N)-Hemmings softens up to co-star, Ross Lynch on his lap

For Film Reasons or Not?! (Y/N) (Y/L/N) on her knees for BTS idol V

The shock in that memory was hard to forget. You were relaxing and watching some of your other co-stars jump out of a flaming car. As the car exploded, you were taken aback and Ross caught you so you wouldn’t fall. It was a private filming, so you couldn’t understand how and why that was on the main cover. “Tell me about these ones then, babe since you were confident in accusing me with the same shit.”

And you did bluntly. “Ross caught me when the exploding car scene happened. Who wouldn’t be shook? Then for Taehyung as I prefer to call him, he accidentally dropped something while we were filming and I was nearer so I just crawled down to get it!”

He wasn’t so convinced, so he kept retaliating. ”Ross seemed way too handsy and you know he can be a flirt! As for V, the way he viewed you on the floor made me think he had other ideas.”

“Unless you want me to fall and get a concussion, be my guest! Also, Taehyung’s face is really like that?! The camera person there just didn’t capture the moment he got the phone and he gave a big smile after and gave his thanks!” You gave your last words, your last bits of energy almost empty. How is he so secretive now and throwing all these accusations? Of all days, why now? You just had to voice out before he gets anything else out his dumb mouth. “Nowadays, it’s like every guy I get associated with my job gets you worked up all the time!”

Luke huffed mockingly, thinking how faulty that statement was on your behalf. “Didn’t you just lash out on me with all these different girls awhile ago? Quite the hypocrite.”

As your anger jolts up, you knew you would blow up and the entire house would go on an entire frenzy. You didn’t want to cause any stress to the other people living here, thinking about your daughters who are definitely sleeping right now, you needed space to wrap your mind on this stupid argument. “Well, whatever then. I can’t fucking stand you right now. I need air.”

Luke’s pride was still held so high. He knew he won the argument, but you just didn’t want to admit it and he badly wanted to hear you say it. Honestly, what a dickhead move. “Pathetic, you know I’m right.”

And that line was the final straw, fuck being considerate for once and you just blew up. “And so what if you are? Today was exhausting, and I really can’t think straight because of all the work I did today for our family! Can you not be a fucking bitch?!”

“I’m the bitch?! You accused me first of being unfaithful based on stupid articles from gossip magazines! I thought we got past through that phase in our relationship where tabloids cannot mess with us anymore!”

“Well sometimes, things change! We have been fighting non-stop lately, and I really have no idea if you’re worth the trust anymore!”

“If I’m not worth the trust anymore, then why are we still together when we can always go our separate ways forever?!” He growled, not even blinking one bit.

You gasped for a moment, not wanting to comprehend what he just implied. Luke didn’t expect to go overboard with a statement like that, but before he could even take it back, wild vocal cries from upstairs blasted around your home. Did you guys really go all in and argue that loudly to disturb the peace?

Your motherly instincts kicked in quickly, not even excusing yourself from your husband and raced the stairs to your twins’ bedroom. Thankfully, the doors were already opened, so you quietly approached their cribs, picking up Stella first since she was making the most noise as Rebecca was sniffling along but she might break into a fit soon.

“Oh no, little bub.” You laid her on your shoulder, cradling her up and down so she would calm down. Rubbing her tiny back too, she burped a little bit. “I’m sorry if I woke you up. Your daddy got into Mommy’s nerves today.”

Now humming some random song you can think of to comfort her more, echoing footsteps from behind entered the room and from your side view, this person took hold of the other twin who was now beginning to doze off instead. You were still facing the opposite direction, not wanting to deal with his shit for the time being and focus on your fragile infant. But maybe you were just as fragile as her now.

“Hey, poppet.” Luke lifts up the sniffling baby, cradling her side to side for a change. She latched on to her father’s index faster than ever, not bothering to let go anytime soon. It’s a trait that she always does to anyone who carries her, making it more enjoyable to interact with her. But with what happened, Luke wasn’t pleased to make her feel discomfort. “I know you heard shouting, and I’m sorry about that and making it ruin your sleep. Daddy will fix everything so you won’t be disturbed again.”

Just as you finished your humming, Stella was completed fast asleep again as you heard her soft cries turned into snores. She might’ve drooled a bit on your bare shoulder, but it doesn’t matter. Giving a kiss on her forehead, you placed her back in your arms then laid her curled up body in the crib. One more look of her peaceful state and you seek to come after Rebecca, but she was already handled by her father by the window. This is when you make your exit and head to the kitchen for water since your throat grew dry after intense arguing and soft mumbling.

Sipping continuously, your mind is still nervously trying to wrap around what Luke spat at you awhile ago. Did he really mean what he said, that it’s best to be separate since the two of you together have been driving you both insane? Because if that was the case, that would mean-

“(Y/N).”

Your mind shifts back to your surroundings, turning around to find a frantic Luke leaning by the countertop. His hair more disheveled because of the stress, looking more tired than ever. Physically and emotionally. “What I said-”

“Did you really mean what you said?” You cut to the chase, not raising your tone anymore. “Did you actually consider that option?”

“I was mad and at the spur of the moment. I would never-”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Confronting him like this was very heavy, but he kept dodging. Even thinking of that idea gutted you, but you needed confirmation. “Have you considered getting a divorce with me?”

He was silent because he can’t lie about that question. After being in constant quarrels for months, it messed with his work ethic and mental state too. But because he loved you so much and his daughters, he let it pass because you and him always conquered every test the world handed the two of you. Reading his actions, he was contemplating how to lay down the truth based on the way he scrunched his eyebrows and how his eyes couldn’t even look at you. Shockingly enough, you don’t blame him. Because you have thought about this option too. You were not as happy as before, having lost motivation to do what you love without any issues to encounter when you come home. What started as mini arguments on misunderstandings turned into big fights with no one winning. Almost every morning, there were no longer the sweet breakfasts and greetings because of the stress from nights before resurfaces. Ignorance in the household became common, except when it comes to your daughters.

Still not answering, you beat him to it. “Because I actually have.”

“You’re lying,” Luke says with disbelief, gripping on the counter. “Please, let’s not talk about this.”

“Luke, have you not noticed that we aren’t happy anymore? We fake everything to our family, friends, and everyone else. After seeing our daughters and how they reacted to us from our fighting, this doesn’t seem healthy to anyone. Also, the longest period we’ve ever spoken is right now. Because once we argue, it’s over for the night, and it became a pattern for months. Didn’t we lose our motivation to work too? Ash has been on your ass for not creating good lyrics while I’ve been more prone to injuries when I do stunts because we aren’t thinking straight.”

He hates that your eyes begin to water, the way you frustratingly brush your hair back. He hated that he hurt you and would do anything to make things better. Anything. “But (Y/N), I love you.”

You love him too so much, shit. But your well-beings together in the same area is enough to edge off a building. You can’t give him anymore hurt to him, now somehow, you’re holding him back with his music. “You and I need space. This right now and every day just distances us.”

“We can still work this out, please.” He begs, frightened.

“Luke, you thought about this too. We need to take care of ourselves.” Your heart pities the man you love, but it’s all too much for your plate now.

“But who’ll take care of our daughters?” Oh yes, the million-dollar question. This is a tricky one, and you couldn’t bare handle this one. But at least this one can still be discussed in the days to come.

“We’ll find a way to sort this through.” Luke wanted to defend his love for you and everything in it. But as he realizes that you were indeed correct of the status of your relationship, it was a stab in his heart. Add in his daughters in the equation, and he can be left for dead. There’s no way he’ll let them witness a toxic parental relationship, and that was his final wish. He truly cares for you, and if it meant this option, so be it. If happiness for you again meant this, he’ll accept it.

“Do you know a lawyer who can handle this?” That painful answer escapes his lips, and how badly he wanted to take it back. He dreaded this outcome with you, never even thought it would happen.

You heavily despised that he agreed to it because he knew how stubborn you can be to conclude things. But then again, the longer you stay together just worsen things especially now that you have kids. “I’ll ask Gina tomorrow about that. Goodnight, Luke.”

Swiftly exiting the kitchen with heavy tension, you wiped all the tears on the hem of your shirt. You needed to stay strong some way, somehow. But chances are you’ll be crying yourself to sleep tonight because it’s happening and for the best, as you believe it to be.

With Luke left with his thoughts, he cannot believe he agreed to it. He doesn’t cry much to express sadness, but the fact that he’s losing you is more than enough to crack him. He’s convinced this is all a dream, then he’ll wake up to you in his arms with the assurance that everything will be okay. But unluckily, it is all an awake occurrence.

“Goodnight, (Y/N). Please stay.”

- - -

2034, Sydney

“Shit.”

Luke grumbles, still tired from his sleep. The culprit of his awakening would be this pounding headache that was bothersome. Rubbing his dry eyes, he unexpectedly felt a feather-like brush his arm. It startled him, rising up from his bed to see what that was.

Actually, who she was.

Nowadays, he stays in the middle of the bed to sleep, but for the first time in a long time, he stayed on the left side. Because the right side was always reserved for ...

“(Y/N).”

You were still peacefully asleep, sleeping on your side as you favored. Your entire body was covered with the duvet, surely bare naked under because he was too. Out of unconscious instinct, he grazed a finger on your cheeks. It’s a good thing you were a deep sleeper so you wouldn’t flinch. He was hit like a bus when the memories of last night’s drunk escapade replayed in his mind, getting him to recall every gasp, position, and touch. Drunk him is more courageous, but also a risky one too.

The purple patches on your neck and your lower jaw were a standout. If you were still married, he’d be proud, but because you aren’t, things just got more complicated.

What’s the next step?

He heard a short grunt from you when he brushed a few strands of hair out your face, swiping his hand away. Crap, how was he to handle this? But luckily, he was spared because you continued your slumber and lied your body down from your side. Now, he really had to stop his overthinking. Besides, it’s Sunday, and he’s in charge of breakfast. Quickly, he scurried his cabinet for a fresh set of clothes before quietly exiting his bedroom. The more he stayed, the more his mind will bombard him with questions. Sadly, leaving the room was a lose-lose situation.

He still had you in his mind.

Being the only one awake in the kitchen made it worse. No noise to counteract those thoughts, especially since it was only 8 am. Rebecca’s usually up by 8:30, so it would be a silent 30 minutes. Sure, the sizzling of the pan cooking bacon and pancakes was there, but it was too soft.

Might as well face them, Luke.

Last night has become an emotional awakening. He missed this kind of romance, where neither held back nor felt insecure. But then, it happened when you were intoxicated. What then? He felt a tinge of awkwardness, but also happiness. But again, it didn’t work out the first time, so what will happen the second time around? With your differences, things may deteriorate much worse, and who knows, it’ll be to the point of hatred and not allowing the girls to see each other. You being with him will be chaotic.

But to be with you, you could start from scratch and rebuild up that love you had. He wants it to be stronger than ever, especially now your emotional maturity has grown. Once he finished placing the food in their plates and to the table, he is in need of a distraction. For sure, not involving his e-cigarette because he’s trying to preserve his health. For now.

The first thing that he saw was his grand piano. His absolute gem, it has been too long since he last played. Maybe it can wake up you guys but in a great way. After all, you are a musical family. Besides, it’s a calming mechanism. Settling on the black bench, he gently lifts the black wooden cover so it wouldn’t creak. The white and black keys were clean yet dusty due to lack of usage, but it didn’t really bother him. Cracking his knuckles, he prepared his fingers on the necessary keys. There was a specific song that perfectly described his uncertainty, and so he pressed down on the keys and began to play along.

Meanwhile upstairs, the rustling of the leaves from outside his bedroom window put your sleeping patterns to a close. Slowly widening your eyelids open, you woke up at an unfamiliar bedroom, an empty bedside too. Not just this, the duvet felt much warmer than usual. Looking under it, you were met with the view of your nudity.

There, a recap of last night clouded your mind.

His lips on yours, then down your neck, while his cock thrusted in and out of you while you continuously screamed his name from your wet lips. It was already blaring, but he did say the room was soundproof. Especially when he had one hand on your neck while the other linked with yours in the bed.

Wonderful? Truly.

It sucked that he wasn’t beside you any longer, for aftercare or something that brings out your emotional softness. Last night was a brief occurrence that explained a lot. Maybe all that is left is to talk things out. Here, you were certain and happy. Quick to have sex already, but nonetheless.

As comfy as the bed was, luring you to lay back and sleep in more, the muffled sounds of the piano roamed the room from the slightly ajar door. Interested, it hyped you enough to get up from the duvet and go downstairs, except that you were naked for starters. Since it wasn’t your room, it was an excuse to crash his closet and find any random shirt you like. Just like you used to enjoy. Also, upon seeing those marks from a mirror, there wasn’t much care you gave and just let them be. Tiptoeing down the stairs, you didn’t want to disrupt his peacefulness, and listening quietly wasn’t too bad either. Creeping on his playing or singing was never something you’d pass.

Speaking of singing, his voice was still angelic as ever as it smoothens out along with the song. It was all too familiar, so you leaned sidewards on the stairs and listened.

Are we better off alone, than lying to ourselves

There was angst in its message. You have heard it before but its meaning was questionable in the given situation you were in. You made sure not to overthink it too much because his voice is melodic and enchanting. With the final chords and lyrics portrayed, Luke felt a lot more sure with his thoughts. You are too delicate. If he makes a move again, it might not end well. He cannot risk that, and if he really loved you, he will let you go. Last night was almost like his goodbye to your romance. As he wanted, he wants you to be happy.

For you, you were slowly falling back in love with him already by the simple things he does after. His back muscles flexed, showing those evident scratch marks you did, oops. His loud sighing, showing his passion for his craft. His legs also were tangled from the bottom. You were into deep for him, and you wanted him to know that you were amidst his area. Hell, you would’ve run to him and hug from behind. Maybe peck kisses on his cheeks.

“That was amazing.”

Shook. Luke was taken aback by your morning yet sweet voice, switching his view for the piano to the back. There you were, majestically dressed in one of his tees leaning against the walk with a genuine smile. Your silver dyed hair was still rugged in a ponytail, exposing those marks he gave which he completely forgot giving.

“Fuck, I did that?” He spoke, pointing on the crook of your neck with a crooked grin. You blushed heavily, not moving an inch to cover it up. His marks were nothing to ashamed of, especially now. You just wanted to be his again.

“Oh, yeah. Forgot how dominant you could get, and you still have that side. Stronger than ever.” You praised, taking the last stair down. You can’t waste any more time.

“So, last night..”

To you, it was never over. Everything just needed to be fixed with time so you can both mature emotionally.

It’s so early in the day and you were here looking like a goddamn killer queen. That just made it harder. But no, he cannot. When he sees how close you were to get to him from his seated position, it’s his chance to stop it. Because if not, his denials won’t be possible. God, he’s desiring you so much but it would be so unhealthy.

He abruptly got up, almost hitting the keys of his piano. He was getting too overwhelmed. You, on the other hand, were about to finish that statement but surprised at his action. This was his last chance, and he unhesitatingly took it.

“Last night was a mistake.”

What.

Unexpectedly completing your statement, you couldn’t believe his words. Internally, you were begging that he took it back, saying he was joking. You wanted him to crack a smile, saying that things could get better. But he didn’t.

The rebuilt happiness of your heart was deteriorating. He was hurt too saying that, but for him, it was what is best if you want this parental relationship to work. So he was actually pushing you away this time, and maybe for good. Your body still stood there speechless while your mind was wandering off and praying that he changes mind or his words. But he wasn’t done talking yet.

“Last night, we were drunk and sad. I’m sorry I took advantage of you like that.”

You wished it was a lie. Though he gave a frown, giving you the complete opposite. Now, you had to reply, and it cannot be the truth. As things got complicated, adding yours will make things worse.

“O-Oh, it’s fine. Sex is sex, right?”

Not this one.

He noticed a stutter and how your face scrunched up. It hurt how you were actually “agreeing” with him, but it has to be done.

“Yeah, it is. - Now,” Luke tries to move on from the hard topic into a smoother one to get rid of tension, even though he resulted in the complication of your relationship. You were having a hard time to contain your emotions. Sure, it wasn’t the first time in the rodeo, but this has the most painful aftermath. Worse than cheating is this rejection.

“Breakfast? I made cooked something since Felicia came home a little late with a certain secretary.”

“Did you mean mine?” You swayed over to where his arms lead you, which was the dining room. Taking a seat on the opposite side of Luke’s, you quickly poked at a pancake and put some butter and syrup like you were a little girl again. With heartbreak, there’s always food as an instant comfort.

“Yeah, I’ve actually called it the day I met her. She’s different from the boys and a few girls she’s seen.” He speaks highly of Gina, a hype of pride you gain from it.

“Huh, I thought the exact same way. Don’t tell them I told you this, but I caught them making out when I came home from strolling Sydney and you were still in the beach.” Sharing embarrassing stories was another distracting mechanism of yours, though you had no shame in bringing this up. Luke choked on his coffee slightly before laughing a fit.

“Oh shit! I’m guessing you were scarred?” He says, unbothered. It was a slap how he started treating things like it was back to normal, but if it is how you guys can cooperate, then so be it.

Perhaps him pushing away this time is your karma for having pushed him away first all those years ago.

“Oh my god, yeah. I instantly shielded my eyes when I got home! - But hey, at least they’re happy, you know?”

“Yeah, who would have known? My nanny, your secretary?” He banters from the other side as he eats.

Not so soon after, a chorus of cheery “good mornings” bounced the walls. It was none other than the girls. They already looked refreshed, having showered and dressed in better clothing that isn’t pajamas. How good for them, and how you envied them.

“Morning, girls.” You greeted back, receiving good morning kisses from them as the both of them sat beside you, where Stella was to your left, Rebecca on your right, then Luke across you. He smiled at his daughters’ entrance, passing them the food he cooked.

“Ah, dad’s cooking has gotten better!” Rebecca compliments, pouring more syrup on her pancakes.

“Believe it or not, but when we were younger, he and I almost burned down the house when we tried to cook.” You shared a bit of your past, catching him get embarrassed at the remembrance. Never have you shared much to Stella and most especially to Rebecca, so it’s a start. Maybe with this, you can make him change his mind.

Just maybe.

“Oh my!” Stella burst out laughing, picturing how horrific that must have been.

“Wow, what character development dad’s had.” Rebecca voiced out, silently applauding her father, who rolled his eyes.

“Because of that, we hired a butler and a housekeeper, who became a nanny.” He played along.

In sync, two young women, who looked like they just woke up by the stretch their arms out and rub their eyes joined the scene.

“Oh look, one of them is here.” Luke added on, directing his attention to the ginger-haired woman in her pajamas. “Good morning, Felicia. - Good morning, Gina.”

“Morning, boss.” Felicia says, walking towards the kitchen to prepare herself a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Gina.” You say to your sleepy secretary, who was sat at the high chair at the island.

“Hi, Miss (Y/N).” She replied, then receives a cup of coffee from Felicia out of the blue before she sits beside her.

Stella noticed how sleepy Gina is, which is contrasting to her usual hyper self in the morning. She wasn’t so used to it. “Hey Gina, you look hammered.”

“Ah, I just did a lot of things yesterday and I had a hard time sleeping. Nothing serious, really.”

“Or someone.” Luke mumbled too loudly, getting you to shout “Hey! Shh.”

Felicia caught onto it and teased back. “I’m not the only one who got frisky, boss.”

Holy, did she...

“Dad, what does she mean by that?” Rebecca asks naively, curious by such comebacks.

You were stuck in the middle, but the way he was out of words to console her with, you stepped in. “Oh, they’re just playing around, poppet. Don’t worry about it.”

Thank goodness you saved him from answering that, he thought. It was too soon to talk about it. It looked as if you were not affected prior, which was somehow reassuring to him. But he would not deny that it stung to confront everything like that. You, on the other hand, were in pained, but what can you do? Karma came and doing her job. And you freely allowed it.

“Call me whenever you want to, regardless of the time difference, alright? Tell me about your days and about anything, okay?” He reminds her, as he was knelt to her height and rubbing her jacket covered back. Stella kept nodding to her father, her frowns hurting to his ego. Letting you go meant letting her go, his other half. A bi-continental relationship is bound to be hard, and it’s not typical for an eleven-year-old.

“I will, dad. Visit LA soon, okay?”

“I will, bub.” He kisses her forehead and brings her in for a tight hug, one that should be worthwhile. “Take care of yourself and your mom, alright? She needs you. - I’ll miss you, Stella.”

“Okay, dad. I’m gonna miss you so much too.” As their intimate moment reached its end, you were still bidding your goodbye to your youngest twin, which was as similar to being ripped open. She tried her best not tear up at the slightest, but who wouldn’t? You’re her mother, after all. You never wanted her to think that she was less loved than her sister all these years. Rebecca was hugging you with all this love she had saved for you, where there was sadness that went along with it because you were leaving again.

“I don’t want you to go.” She begs against your chest, her tears finally spilling down as time gets to her faster. You hid it all in, the sadness and rejection. It’s saved for another time. All you wanted was to reassure her no matter what happens.

“I don’t want to either, poppet.” Her quiet whimpers stung like alcohol pressing on a wound, just like the time you left her all those years ago as a baby. The only difference now is that she knew why she felt that way. Time felt slower to truly cherish it, but time was moving much faster than you both realized. It was until Gina’s hand on your shoulder that disconnected this maternal bond, with a knowing look. Her eyes were just as sad as yours to break it, but it was time to shift back to reality. The one that you wished never lived in. “Miss (Y/N), we must go.”

Melancholy was her tone before she exited the front door and to the Uber door that she booked, where a glum Felicia was bidding her goodbyes. “Message me when you land, okay?” Felicia asked with urgency, wiping some growing tears under Gina’s eyelids.

“I wish it wasn’t like this.” Gina, still composed, pulled in Felicia by the waist for a hug.

“I know, babe. I know.”

Back to you and Rebecca, she hasn’t let go still even when Gina tapped you. She was afraid of that separation anxiety hitting back in only when she learned to suppress it after knowing the real truth about your past relationship. This time, it will be stronger. As the brave girl that she is, she unlinked her arms around you to take in another look at her beautiful mother. Remembering that ripped picture from camp, she studied your features and how they never really changed over time. She believes that you and Luke were showered numerously in some sort of fountain of youth, and the fact that you were the real deal and not just a tangible photo anymore, how delicate you were to her. All that maternal connection that she’s been wishing and missing out on for so long was granted by the heavens even if it was limited. “Mom, I-I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, Rebecca.” It would be a lie to say that this moment did not sting like a bitch. Your words comforted Rebecca enough to build her strength to lessen her grip on you, slowly letting go of your embrace. How mature she has grown in these past weeks, and how you have to find a way to not miss out on anything with her. “Poppet, talk to me whenever you can alright? I want to know how you are and everything else.”

Grazing her cheek, she topped her hand on yours. Half dry and wet it is, she nodded repeatedly. “I-I will. I promise“

“Good girl. You were raised well.” Leaving a kiss on her forehead, there behind her was a much taller and broad figure whom you can’t ever ignore. Even with what happened, acting civil is a must. For the girls. Stella and Rebecca, from your peripheral view, didn’t say a word as they faced each other, a perfect reflection. Everything was covered in a hug. Perhaps everything they wanted to say has been said, and that last contact for now is the only thing to seal everything.

There you were, facing him one last time. He can read the pain that he caused, but he can’t risk it. But with you, you already are on the brink of letting him go forever. That rejection and loss of hope took a toll on your heart, and you can’t force him to change after what he went through and moreover, you can’t force him to love you again.

“Well.” He began, fumbling on his jean pockets and not leaving his eyes on you. He wanted to absorb this beauty before you’re gone, focusing on every detail like a painting. “Here we are.”

The way he looks at you just makes your heart ache more, you couldn’t even look straight with the urge to cry. “Luke, I-“

“Take care of yourself, okay?” You will try.

“I will, you too alright?” You say bluntly. He wasn’t convinced, and he added on.

“Come visit when you can too please.” If he can’t have you, at least seeing each other from time to time is better, right?

“I-I need space first, and I got a lot of work when I get back. I’ll make Stella visit during her break.” That was a half-lie, but you were just too hurt to answer properly. Now, you don’t want to see him until you have healed fully. He has ruined you, but all he can do is nod.

“I’ll be looking forward to that.” Moments of silence tensed your conversation, taking in another view of the lovely man in front of you. Shit, this is going to be hard, but you believe in yourself. You did a decade, you can handle more. Luke wished there was more time to spend with the family, but life is equally unfair to everyone.

“Miss (Y/N).” Gina announced one last time, switching to her professional self again. Turning to your shoulder, your daughters were already waiting by the car door with Felicia on the other side with Gina. Watching you both so heartbroken yet reluctant was painful. But they are not in a position to intervene.

“Well,” Luke picked up the conversation that was almost dying. “You don’t wanna miss your flight, do you?”

“Yeah, sure can’t.” It’s like deja-vu made an appearance. Except when he brushed his lips to your cheek and pecked it, you froze and your heart was racing again.

“Be careful.” That can mean anything, but you opt not to overthink anymore. Putting yourself back together, you nodded and abruptly disconnected yourself from his presence. You needed to breathe, intaking deep ones on the way to the car and finally meeting up at the car per Gina’s request. She was already inside, and so was Stella who wore her earphones to drift away from her heavy surroundings with lord knows what music the kids are listening to today. By the other car door open, there Rebecca was to bid goodbye for a while. Giving her one last hug and a peck on her cheek, she helped you settle inside the car and closed the door for you.

As much as you would want to wave goodbye like on any trip you go to, this was a hard pass. Besides, you know it wouldn’t be the last time to see Rebecca. The car quickly has the engine going, and the Uber driver vacates from the front yard of the house. Not looking back, you slouched on your chair and like your daughter, put your earphones to disconnect. Just let the music be the one to soothe your state.

Fast forward, there were no paps at the airport because no one knew about your revised departure details. It was a lot more peaceful and fast, though people did notice you and only gave you small waves because they respect your privacy. Thank god for those kinds of people, really.

Finally, you settled on your airplane seat, first-class because you can. Stella was on her phone, texting whom you assume is her twin. But unknown to you, it was actually Alex. She kept a pout the whole time, dreading the flight but there’s no turning back. The cabin crew then played and demonstrated the safety rules of this flight. Instructing that your phones must be on airplane mode at this time, your fingers curling on your cellphone meant to tap on the settings application in order to activate the airplane mode as requested by the pilot. But your thumb slipped for the smoothness of the screen because you were ready to drift to sleep your feelings away, clicking on the call button.

Dumb move at first, but when it opened, one option caught your attention before you could exit. Voicemail. You have inactivated it years ago because most business calls would be first forwarded to Gina, though there was another reason why you did it. There laid all those unsaid voice messages from the decade you divorced Luke, happy and sad. Since you never contacted in that period because of the pain and dislike, that was like an outlet that served as his proxy. It felt so wrong, but mostly everything you said were updates on Stella growing up and nothing more.

At this point, you needed to move on with your life. These voicemails were secrets, so it’s best to be transparent with him and show that you’ve always cared for them from afar. Gathering your courage, you sent them all before tapping into airplane mode. This weight in your chest lessened a bit, and it just may be a great start.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin. However we always recommend to keep your seat belt fastened while you’re seated. In a few moments, the flight attendants will be passing around the cabin to offer you hot or cold drinks, as well as a light meal. Alcoholic drinks are also available at a nominal charge/with our compliments. Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. Thank you.”

- - -

Taglist: @queen-taryn @i-oop @bookofmurder9201 @pxinkxllers @goldenbbean @trunichole15 @luciferatlantic @oofitsmeadam @thecurlsofgod @tommosgirl06 @connoisseuroffineart @butterfly-dearest @excuseme-uuummm @punkpenguin2019 @bruhh-whateven @bells3333 @roseyblushess @cloudy5sosx @cutiepiecallum

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groovyzombiellama · 5 years

Text

My Queen

Title: My Queen Requested? Yes. Plot: Being a plus size girl and dating MGK and he shows you how much he cares about you when you’re feeling down about yourself after a pool party thrown to celebrate MGK’s new music video. Word count: 1446

---***---

The pool party was in full swing and people were dancing and drinking, the music was blasting. Colson had just finished shooting a music video for his newest single, and to celebrate the success, and fill up their batteries after a long week of shooting, the MGK team decided to throw a pool party. At first you were into the idea, still excited about another one of your boyfriend’s successful music videos, and you pulled out your favoite swimsuit, it was a pink one-piece, and the top half of it reminded you of one of the famous Marilyn Monroe swimsuits. Colson loved that one on you, and you did too. Colson and you met through a mutual friend, and the moment he first saw you, he knew he would be an idiot not to ask you for your number and get to know you. The sheer fact that your smile lit up the entire room and your laugh was like music to his ears and made his heart beat faster told him that he had to get to know you. And you ended up exchanging numbers and pretty soon you starter talking, and a few months later, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

It’s been two years since then and you loved the support you were getting from fans that you didn’t bother reading the mean tweets. But you would get upset at times, due to you not having the hourglass figure, that model body, and you seeing fit girls all around would have you occasionally thinking that Colson would be happier with one of them. However, as soon as Colson would wrap his arms around you and place a kiss on your forehead, all your worries would disappear, seeing the glimmer in his eyes as he would look at you. And as soon as you exited the house in your swimsuit , Colson’s eyes were on you. He was standing with Pete and Rook, smoking a blunt and he followed your every move with a slight smile on his face, feeling so lucky to have such a hot ass girlfriend. But you on the other hand, your mood was starting to dampen. While you were on the beach chair, skinny girls were giggling as they walked past you, and you heard so many comments about how could Colson possibly be dating you when he could have any girl he wants. You kept your cool and enjoyed your day, but those comments kept repeating in your head even after the party ended and Colson and you were back at home.

At the pool party, having Colson unable to keep his hands off you helped you block out the haters as they gleamed with jealosy. “You look so sexy right now that I just want to lift you up and take you to the nearest bed, no matter if people are watching us, and just worship you.“ He whispered in your ear, his warm breath on your neck making you shudder. You were checking your social media, being bombarded with paparazzi pics of you at the pool party with captions of hater profiles, and you frown, trying to scroll to any positive captions, but today was way different than usually, when positive posts and support from Colson’s fans outnumbered the haters. You were so focused on your phone, confused at yourself as to why you were reading those captions that you were taken by surprise when a smiling Colson wrapped his arms around you from behind, and the two of you even took a few steps forward as he leaned some of his weight on you. He kissed your cheek and placed his head on your shoulder to take a look at the screen of your phone himself.

Colson immediately frowned as you didn’t have time to close Instagram and he saw one of the captions hating on your weight, his smile disappearing and his brows furrowing as he let go of you and grabbed your phone from your hands. You immediately tried explaining yourself, because you knew how much he hated seeing people hating on you. “Colson, babe, listen. It’s not a big deal, I just tapped into it by accident, really.“ “Yeah, by accident, and that’s why you’re fifty posts in. Y/N I know these things can sometimes get to you, but I have no doubt in my mind that to me, you are the most gorgeous girl in the world.“ Colson locked your phone, placing it on the table next to which you were standing, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. He rested his forehead against yours and sighed, as if trying to calm himself down more than you. “I hate people being mean to you with every fibre of my being. It hurts me a hundred times more every single time. It just hurts that they can’t understand how fucking happy you make me.“

You had your hands rubbing up and down his upper arms, and a small smile was curving your lips at the mention of making Colson happy. That was all you truly wanted, for him to be happy, and that was mostly why you were not always upset and doubting yourself and questioning if you should be with him, because Colson would not miss a beat in telling you almost every day how happy he was with you. And all the time he would post about you, you would see how in love he was, just as much as you were, and it would delete haters from your mind. It’s just today that you let them get in your head way too much. “You have to know that I love every inch of you, and that I think you’re so damn perfect that you shouldn’t exist. But I’m glad you do, and I’m glad you’re mine. I have no idea what I did to deserve you, but I’ll spend the rest of my life thanking you for chosing me to be your boyfriend.“

You were just about to melt in a puddle. It was nice to hear Colson say all these things once in a while, and you pressed yourself forward, wrapping him in a hug. He immediately hugged you back and all the love you felt from that hug caused your eyes to get a little bit glossy. “Thank you for all these kind words baby. I know you love me, as much as I love you, and you make me so happy too. Let’s stop worrying about the haters and focus on each other, yeah?“ You said and felt Colson nod with his cheek leaning against the back of your head, and you confirmed it with an ’okay’ and pulled away to look at him, your eyes still glossy, but you were not crying. When he saw the look in your eyes, the adoration you looked at him with, he leaned in and kissed your eyelids, your forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin before finally pressing his lips to yours. After parting, you turned to grab your phone, exiting the tab with all those hate comments and heading into the ’post a photo’ section, leaning against Colson’s chest as you asked him about which photo from today’s party to post.

After going through several photos, you found the perfect one, but while you were thinking of a caption, you felt your boyfriend kiss his way up and down your neck, causing you to close your eyes and let a moan escape your lips. You could feel his little(not so little) Colson poking your back, and the voice Colson now spoke to you in was slightly darker, filled with lust. The one he knows would turn you on. “You just reminded me of how mind blowingly hot you looked today. Just caption it with an emoji, so I can take you upstairs and show you how madly in love with you I am.“ Trying your best to think straight, you quickly typed out ’sunkissed’ and added a sun and beach emoji, that were luckily in your recently used ones due to you posting a story from the party and using them. You didn’t even wait for Instagram to inform you that you photo was uploaded, you placed your phone on the table and turned around to press your lips to Colson’s in a rough and passionate kiss. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, as he lead you to your shared bedroom, not even bothering to close the door before throwing you on the bed and climbing on top of you. “I love you my queen. So fucking much!“ “I love you too. My king.“

---***---

Thank you anon for requesting this imagine, it made me feel kinda better writing this, and it gave me motivation, thank you so much, and I hope I didn’t kill you with the fluff <3 I’m not sure if MGK soot a video by a pool, but this plot came to me first.(btw I have that swimsuit in real life, it’s similar to this one, but it’s doesn’t have the dress part and it ties behind the neck, oh and it’s pink haha)

Also, a bonus, kind of, just imagine Colson looking at you like in the first gif OMG I would melt if someone looked at me like that...

Also, also, I’m sorry for the typo in the last image, disrespect me*

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly au #machinegunkelly #machine gun kelly x black reader #mgk #mgk imagine #mgk au #mgk x reader #jp cappelletty #jp cappelletty imagine #jp cappelletty x reader #Plus Size #plus size imagine

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shirtlesssammy · 5 years

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5x22: Swan Song

In light of recent news, we thought we’d finally tackle what might have been the end (until someone went and made a demon deal, giving us 10 more years of our beloved show!) It’s weird watching this and seeing what a bummer this all would have been if it had ended like this. Sure, it was epic, but I guess I’m a sucker for a happy ending when it’s about characters I’ve come to love more than my own family. I’m also going to point to this Twitter thread about good and bad show endings. Swan Song wouldn’t have been bad had we only had TFW for five years, but we’ve watched them grow over 15 years now, and I want to see them get some peace. (Thanks to all the meta writers for throwing out the much needed hope!)

The Road So Far:

Carry on my wayward son...

Now:

We open with Chuck Shurley narrating the origin story of the most important object in pretty much the entire universe. And I’m literally two minutes into rewatching this episode and already crying. He’s tells us about it’s original owner, Sal Moriarty. (Oh, Eric Kripke, of course it was.)

And how, after he died, it ended up in the hands of John Winchester, after some persuasion by his time traveling son.

Fade to Sam and Dean in Bobby’s salvage yard, drinking beer from the little green cooler. Dean tells Sam that he’s “in” on having Sam say yes to the devil.

Dean acknowledges that Sam can make his own choices. “Watching out for you? That’s kinda been my job, you know? More than that, it’s kinda who I am.” Seeing this image Dean has of himself shift to NOT be this is really great. Dean asks if this is really what Sam wants. Sam is more resigned than enthusiastic to the plan, obv.

Cut to Team Free Will collecting demon blood like they’re stocking up for the apocalypse (err..). Dean confers with Bobby about Lucifer’s location and they determine it is Detroit.

Once on the road, Dean can’t help but notice what a cute, slumbering angel he has in the backseat. Sam logically points out that angels don’t sleep. They talk about their plan, the odds of it working, and the reality that Sam won’t be coming back from the cage. Sam makes Dean promise that he won’t try and get him back. Dean balks at the idea. Sam makes him promise that he’ll find Lisa and live “some normal, apple pie life.”

Once in Detroit, the group finds many demons out and about. Sam and Bobby have a moment. Then Sam asks Cas to “take care of these guys” for him. Cas tells Sam that it isn’t possible. Sam asks him to humor him. Cas catches on just a little too late that he’s supposed to lie. Oh Cas, you beautiful, literal goob.

Sam then gets to the business of downing four gallons of demon blood. With that done, Sam and Dean turn themselves in to the demons, who bring them to Lucifer.

Chuck continues his monologue on the Impala. He mentions the unimportant features, and then mentions the important features: Sam’s green army man, Dean’s legos, Sam and Dean’s initials. The devil doesn’t know or care about their car.

The devil wants to know what Sam and Dean are up to.

Sam says he’s ready to say “yes.” The devil reveals that he knows they have the rings that will reopen the Cage. Fuuuuuck. Sam tries bluffing, but the jig is up. Dean’s look of anguish is devastating. Lucifer likes his odds on the battle that will happen in Sam’s head. He agrees. Before Dean can do anything more than say “No”, Sam says “Yes.”

A bright light flashes and Dean finds Sam knocked out on the floor. He throws the rings on the wall and gets to opening the door to Hell. Sammy awakens and Dean helps him towards the portal. Only, PSYCH! It’s actually Lucifer. Sam didn’t stand a chance against him. He closes the portal and takes the rings.

Once away from Dean, Lucifer has a moment with Sam, where Sam makes it very clear that he’s not done fighting.

Lucifer appeals to Sam’s worst feelings about himself, but says he wants Sam to be happy. Sam doesn’t want anything from Lucifer. Lucifer then points out the group of demons behind him. They’re all people Sam knew in his life --they were all watching Sam for Azazel.

Dean, Bobby, and Cas are watching the fallout to Sam saying yes.

Shallow Sidenote:

(Those curls!)

Cas suggests they “imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.” GRIM, DUDE --but he ain’t wrong. Cas doesn’t think there’s any way they can stop Lucifer and Michael meeting. Dean is not giving up (and he’s desperate guys -his insult at Cas was way harsh). Bobby’s even resigned to the reality of the situation.

We cut back to the room full of demons, but they’re all dead this time. Lucifer smugly looks at Sam in the mirror. “We having fun yet?” Ugh, Lucifer, you’re the worst.

Chuck’s narration cuts in like a road narrative, all misty colored and gentle. “They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove one thousand miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars for hours without saying a word.” This beautiful interlude dissipates with a phone call and Chuck picks up, expecting Mistress Magda. (Eyebrow waggle.) LOL, nope! It’s Dean.

“You got a real virgin / hooker thing going on, don’t you?” Dean observes. Excuse me while I laugh forever over this line, with the confirmed Chuck-is-God context. Dean wants to know where the fight will happen. It’ll be at Stull Cemetery at high noon, just outside of Lawrence. Chuck doesn’t have any more useful information than that…but it’s a place to start.

Bobby and Cas try to prevent Dean from heading to Lawrence to intervene in the upcoming archangel showdown but their arguments are weak sauce compared to Dean’s need to save Sam. He heads off alone to Stull.

The cemetery is wispy with mist and bedraggled with age. Michael (wearing Adam) flaps in to greet Lucifer. (Side note: Saying that Michael is “wearing Adam” sounds like Adam is a fashion designer. In this epic showdown, Michael has been dressed by the FABULOUS Adam!)

Both brothers seem regretful, but ultimately resolved. Lucifer questions why they’re fighting if neither of them wants to do it. Michael trots out the old “duty” argument. Lucifer offers an alternative: “We’re going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard.” Hey, guys. It’s a really good point. It’s also an intentional mirror of Dean, Sam, and John that I refuse to stop getting emotional about.

Michael’s tempted for a moment. Damn serpent!! “I’m a good son,” Michael decides. “You haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself.” This is also an excellent fucking point, man. The rumble’s still on.

Speaking of rumbling, Dean approaches in Baby with Def Leppard cranked up loud. FUCK YEAH. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” To quote Tess McGreer’s Twitter feed: MY SON!

Michael’s not into the whole threesome battle, and heads threateningly towards Dean when the camera cuts suddenly to Castiel and Bobby who have just flapped in. “Hey, assbutt!” Castiel shouts before lobbing a holy oil molotov cocktail at Michael. Bless.

Michael poofs away. “You got your five minutes,” Cas says to Dean just before Lucifer explodes him. NOOOOOOO

Lucifer’s pretty crabby by this point, so when Dean tries to verbally reach Sam again, he hurls Dean into Baby. Bobby shoots futilely at Lucifer before Lucifer snaps his neck. NOOOOOOO

“Sammy, are you in there?” Dean asks desperately. PROTECT.

“He’s gonna feel the snap of your bones,” Lucifer promises Dean. He’s gonna kill Dean slow. I’d chortle over the classic villain “kill you slow” trope except that Lucifer is beating Dean bloody and it’s really, really not funny.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” a very battered Dean tells Sam, leaving me to stare into space thinking about how he must have said this on quiet nights, comforting young Sam over nightmares or monster-under-the-bed scares.

Lucifer draws his fist back to deliver a killing blow as Dean slumps in his hold. His eye catches on a little army man stuck in the ashtray and we get a montage of Dean and Sam moments set to the soundtrack of howling wind. Sam’s fist uncurls.

And that’s it. Sam takes control. “I’ve got him,” Sam tells Dean. He hauls the rings out of his pocket and tosses them to the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. Dean sprawls on the ground, leaning against the car, bloodied and broken. Sam panics at the threshold to the cage when Michael!Adam appears.

Sam takes one more look at Dean before he opens his arms wide, ready to plunge into the cage. As Michael tries to haul him back, Sam pulls him in as well.

With a blast, the cage closes and Dean is left alone in the quiet, wind-swept cemetery.

He looks up a while later to find Castiel standing behind him, whole and unblemished. “You’re alive?” Dean asks.

“I’m better than that,” Cas says and…okay. He heals Dean with a touch, then brings Bobby back to life. Good job, Cas bby!

“Endings are hard,” Chuck says, and the scene switches to his office once again. “Endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.”

We switch back to Dean and Cas in the Impala. Cas is headed back to Heaven to try to bring order upstairs. He’s ready to continue his heavenly mission, but Dean’s pissed off. “Where’s my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole.”

“You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?”

Cas flaps out. “You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” Always, Dean. Always.

Dean says a temporary farewell to Bobby, then shows up at Lisa’s house, CLEARLY TRAUMATIZED. What a non-booty booty call. Lisa reads the room and pulls him in for a comforting hug. (Stay tuned for my 8,000 word essay on why Lisa is the best.)

“Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt endings are hard. But then again nothing ever really ends, does it?” Chuck vanishes, which is apparently his equivalent of dropping the mic.

Then, the show proceeds to not end, in the best way. Dean is still lost at Lisa’s, putting on a “normal” front. And outside, Sam appears under a flickering street light. To be continued…for ten more seasons. <3

Quoting is Hard:

This 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.

As far as foreboding goes, it's a little light in the loafers.

Ain’t he a little angel?

I told you. This would always happen in Detroit.

MFEO. Literally.

I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.

Cas, are you God?

Every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 5x22 #swan song #spn rewatch #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #bobby singer #lucifer #michael #chuck shurley

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chanxbaekxhun · 7 years

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Chance Encounter II

[Genre] - Angst M

[Length] - 1K

[Pairing] - Chanyeol x Baekhyun

[Summary] - Chance encounters were meant to happen right? Or were they?

[Warning] - Contains mature content and language. Continue at your own risk.

[Author’s note] - All Iron Man references are credited to the original owners of Iron Man. This is my first ever EXO fan fiction so please hang in there with me. I will try and keep this as up-to-date as I possibly can. Please excuse any typos I apologize in advance. Let’s have fun on this ride together. Enjoy!

Chanyeol woke up to his phone buzzing. It was 7:00 am already and it was time for him to start getting ready for work. However, after last night his body was just worn out. Speaking of last night flashbacks came back to him in a rush. The face of a guy who he’d seen in the hallways at work and would occasionally say hello to was all he could see. He looked to be about twenty-one at least and had a very energetic personality. However, last night that was not what he saw. Chanyeol didn’t know what it was, but he felt drawn to him. Maybe in time they might get to know each other but until then for both of their sakes it was best that they kept things the way they were. He didn’t need any more complications in his life right now. Being Iron Man was more than enough to handle.

“HYUNG! HYUNG! ARE YOU AWAKE?”

Chanyeol groaned at the booming deep voice that he could hear all the way from his room upstairs. His best friend Oh Sehun would occasionally crash at his place when he didn’t want to drive a good thirty to forty minutes outside of the city to get home. This had been a reoccurring thing for him lately since they’d both been super busy. Sehun was a professional dancer and teacher for a prestigious company in Seoul and they were preparing for a huge showcase for the end of the month. The poor kid was so tired most days that he was tempted to just tell him to move in. It was closer than his house and Chanyeol had enough space for the both of them.

“HYUNG!”

“If this kid doesn’t stop yelling…” he mumbled

Chanyeol had just barely managed to drag his well over 6ft frame out the bed and started stretching just as Sehun walked through his closed bedroom door.

“HYUNG. Oh sorry, I didn’t know you were awake.”

“How couldn’t I be with all that yelling you were doing. You could wake up all of Asia with that voice.”

“Dramatic much?”

“Loud much? What are you doing here anyway?” He walked towards his bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth while he waited for Sehun to answer his question. He didn’t turn on the light because he wanted to keep it dark for as long as possible. He was not a morning person at all. He had enough light streaking through his bedroom for him to see clearly enough.

“I slept here last night didn’t you hear me come in?”

He just shook his head no since he had a mouth full of toothpaste. Sehun must’ve understood the underlying message since he nodded back in understanding. He was the only one he trusted knowing about his late-night secret and he planned to keep it that way forever.

“I don’t even have to bother asking if it was a long night, do I? Did anything interesting happen at least?”

“More or less.”

Sehun raised one of his strong eyebrows at him. Now was not the time to elaborate on that, especially since his phone started buzzing on his nightstand again. It wasn’t his alarm, so the only other explanation was that someone was calling. Walking over he saw the screen read “manager” and he picked it up before the call dropped.

[PCY] – “hello hyung.”

[MANAGER] – “hello Chanyeol. I am calling this early because I need you to do something.”

[PCY] – “what is it?”

[MANAGER] – “I need you to help Baekhyun.”

[PCY] – “help how?”

[MANAGER] – “I gave him a job to work on which he originally had three months to complete but I just got a call from the higher-ups that they need it done by the end of next month. I figured if you two work together you could give us something great.”

Chanyeol was in no position to say no but this wasn’t helping his current state of mind. Whatever, that was because even he didn’t know but this was in no way going to help matters.

[PCY] – “Sure. When do you want us to start?”

[MANAGER] – “Today. As soon as you come into the studio.”

Before Chanyeol could reply his manager had hung up on him. Guess that was that on that conversation. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he put his head in his hands in what he guessed was frustration. He really had no reason to be frustrated since he didn’t dislike Baekhyun he just didn’t know what was going on with him mentally regarding him. Yeah, they exchanged the usual pleasantries, they would see each other when coworkers would occasionally invite everyone out for drinks, or would text when they had a quick question but that was the extent of it. However, after last night he found him slightly intriguing. For someone who was in a life-or-death situation he handled it well. He would make a mental note to fish around about that without giving away his own identity.

“What was that call all about?”

Chanyeol forgot Sehun was still in the room.

“Eh. Just work. I have to work with this guy named Baekhyun.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It’s a no thing, honestly. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Then why do you look like you just got punched in the gut?”

“Maybe because I just woke up?”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, I came up here if you wanted me to bring you back a coffee before I head back home and go to work?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll get something on the way. Thank you though.”

“Anytime. I’ll see you later.”

As Sehun left, Chanyeol headed back into his bathroom to take a shower. He threw his clothes off on the way and stepped into his glass encased shower. It didn’t take long before the heat kicked in and the steam started floating out of the shower head. Standing under the flowing hot water he let it relax his muscles. He decided to wash his hair while he was at it. There were a few bruises on his arms but nothing that he wasn’t already used to. The shower was so good he didn’t want to get out almost 45 minutes later. Turning the water off, he grabbed a towel off the rack outside of the glass doors and wrapped it around his toned body. Since he had the heat on in his house, walking from the bathroom to his bedroom completely naked he didn’t freeze to death. He went to his massive walk-in closet and stood there deciding what to wear. Since it was fall and getting a bit chilly he decided on some black jeans, a plain tan shirt, an all-black hoodie, and he was going to put on a leather jacket too. It was simple which was how he liked to keep it. He dried his now silver hair last and put on a pair of white Nike shoes. On his way out, he text Baekhyun.

[PCY: 7:45 AM] – hey Baekhyun not sure if you got that call but we’re supposed to be working together.

[BBH: 7:46 AM] – I did. What time do you usually get to the studio?

[PCY: 7:47 AM] – Uh I’m leaving now so about 8:30. I’m stopping at Starbucks along the way do you want me to get you anything?

[BBH: 7:48] – Okay, I’m leaving soon as well, and no thank you. I appreciate you asking though.

[PCY: 7:49] – NP. See you in a few.

Grabbing the keys to his Mercedes out of the bowl next to his front door, Chanyeol headed outside. It was colder than he expected so he folded in on himself as he took a brisk walk to his car. Once he got in, he blasted the heat and sped off into the early morning.

Baekhyun felt better when he woke up that morning but that soon changed when he found out that he’d be working with Chanyeol and his work was now due in one month instead of three. He didn’t mind working with others because it was always fun to see different ideas come together to form greatness. However, he’d never worked with Chanyeol and didn’t know what to expect. What if their musical tastes were so different that they wouldn’t be able to agree on anything? He had heard things about Chanyeol and how talented he was but had yet to see that for himself. Guess that was about to change soon enough.

He locked up behind himself and took the elevator down to the garage. His silver two door Lexus was parked in its usual spot. Peeling out he drove down the street to the café’ that he was supposed to go to last night. He just rolled his eyes as flashbacks of the previous evening entered his mind. It was a whole mess that he would rather not relive, most especially the part of Iron Man staring a hole into him. Just thinking about it made his body hot and he didn’t know why.

“This is annoying.” He mumbled to himself as he pulled up next to the curb and got out. There weren’t many people inside, so it didn’t take him long to get his Iced Americano and a plain toasted bagel with cream cheese. When he got back to his car it was almost 8:20. Luckily, he wasn’t far from the studio but that meant Chanyeol would be left waiting for a few minutes since he said he’d be there about 8:30. Well wasn’t that a great way to start a working relationship?

#chanyeol x baekhyun #baekhyun #oh sehun #exo #mature #chanxbaekxhun x chance encounter

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greenday924-blog1 · 7 years

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I picked out the tequila and Smirnoff. "Thanks Trè.That's really awesome.I appreciate it." "No problem.Now when are we getting this party started!?" "Soon.The pizzas will be here soon and so should everyone else." It was about 7:30 when I started getting nervous.I never had a party before. I just said "Fuck it I'm gonna have a party." I made sure all the lights were working.I put some chips out around the jungle juice. "What are you guys gonna do after the party?" Billie asked. "Sleep.We're not gonna be going to school I know that for a fact.I'm gonna be hungover and probably will until Tuesday." "I guess I get the day off too babe." "What do you mean?" Sam asked. I panicked. "He uh...Y'know drives me around.Mostly to school." "That's nice so he's like your own personal driver." Billie chimed in. "Bus driver to be exact but hey, she gets to ride more than just the bus." My eyes widened.I wanted to elbow him as he stood right behind me over my shoulder. "We go out.He's got a van that's also his band wagon,literally." "I also have a bike for solo rides but I got a seat on the back." "I don't do bikes.I can't pedal at the same speed as other people I-" He laughed. "A motorcycle silly." "Oh." I said looking to the floor. There was a knock on the door.I looked at my watch,7:52. I opened it up to see a man holding 6 pizzas stacked up ontop of each other.I took 3 of them and Sam took the others.I set them down on the table and opened up a box. "Hey,you wanna stay for the party?" I asked the pizza guy. "Nah,I'm the only one working tonight.I usually am anyways.It's always a Slow Sunday for us." "Thank you for all the pizzas,and Mike." The pizza guy left.Sam and I were already eating pizza.The 3 lanky men stayed with their instruments in position,ready to play. "You guys can help yourself.It's a fuckin party.Eat whatever you want." Trè and Billie came right over and grabbed a slice. "Not hungry Mike?" Billie asked. "Nah.Not really.I'll munch on something later." I had an idea that would give me some time to clean up after the party. "I know it took you guys a long time to set-up all the equipment and shit...Why don't you just crash here for the night.We got like 4 empty rooms.You can each have your own." "Thanks for the offer but-" "I insist.The party doesn't end till like 4 am.Do you really wanna pack shit away at 4 am being hammered?" "She's right guys.I know I wouldn't want to do that kinda shit at 4 am.At 4 am I wanna be getting blasted!" Trè chimed in. "Alright we'll stay the night." I smiled and at the same time the doorbell rang.No one has probably used it in months. "Hurry up,turn on the lanterns and shit!" I told Sam. I opened the door.About 10 people came in,handing me $3 bucks each. Some of them were carrying a bottle of alcohol or a bag of drugs.I knew tonight was gonna be great. Everyone just crowded around the table.The pizza went quickly but we still had enough.I took out my phone and went to Facebook again. "PARTY HAS STARTED.LIMITED SPACE.DOORS ARE STILL OPEN.DOORS CLOSE AT 8:30!" I posted that and stood by the door.I looked around.They had already started playing while the colored lights were going in every direction.It was just amazing.It felt like I was alive.More people came and paid their way in.A blonde haired guy showed up with a group about 8 people.The other 8 were in the car waiting for the blonde haired dude to come back or something. "Hey.We're here for the party but we don't have any money.Would you want some dope instead?My buddy gave me a bag of different drugs and shit.Calls it the "party bag"." I took the bag which was pretty big and examined it.I unzipped it and the smell of the weed came over me like a sand storm.I zipped it back up and gripped it tightly. "C'mon in." He turned and gave them a thumbs up.The herd of them got out of the car and came running towards the house.I quickly got out of the way.I looked at my phone. "8:28,closing time." I closed the door and locked it.I walked over to the windows and made sure the curtains were closed.I looked around the room.Smoke,lights and silhouettes filled the room.Sam was already drinking. "How much have you had?" "Just one.I'm not a big fan of beer." I looked at her like she had 2 heads. "Go drink some other shit then.Get something fruity or do some shots.It's a fucking party!Get wasted Sam!" I grabbed a cup and poured some jungle juice in it.I looked around the table for a bottle of vodka to throw some in my juice.I walked around and sipped my cocktail of morning headaches and Advil.I tried to keep an eye on everyone so I could still have some fun.I walked through the kitchen and grabbed another slice of pizza.It was still warm but a little soggy. "Sam,can you keep an eye on everyone.I gotta run upstairs really quick." "Yeah sure!" "Thanks!" I made my way to the stairs and went up.I went down to my room and put the "party bag" on my bed. "I'll see you later my little friend." I closed the door and double checked the doorknob to make sure it was locked.I went back down.I sipped what was left of my drink.Considering it was a full cup like 3 minutes ago I knew that I had to drink more than that.Mom's not a drinker but it takes her a lot too to just even get buzzed.I poured some juice into my cup but not as much.I took the bottle of tequila and poured some in.Sam came up to me as I was stirring it. "There's a girl doing coke in your bathroom!" I went to the bathroom and opened the door.She was standing there just about to open the door but I beat her to it. "You better clean up your mess.I don't need you leaving your pixie dust behind. She nodded and wiped off the counter one more time.She slid past me,back to the party. I went back over to Sam. "I'm leaned back when it comes to drugs.Pot,shrooms,acid,coke.But I don't need no meth heads or junkies shooting up in my house." She just looked at me. "Ok.I don't know what you just said but ok!" "You took some shots didn't you?" "Let's dance!" "Yep.You did." I walked away from my drunken party co-pilot. It was just me now.I was the only one there somewhat sober even though I was starting to feel the alcohol kick in.Sweat dripped down my face as I made my way through the crowd.I got to the front to see Billie and the others play. "Fucking Christ they're amazing as fuck." They finished the song and stopped for a minute. "Any requests?" Billie spoke into the microphone.

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certifiablyplatinum · 7 years

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“‘Call the police’, cause I been arrested for an improper display of rockin’!” LCD Soundsystem at the Masonic Temple, Detroit

So, when I got notified of the “early bird sale” for this show waaaay back when in June,, I whipped out my plastic as I am wont to do without thinking…. of course I did. Because… James Murphy, and one of my favorite bands of all time. I consider LCD Soundsystem my Depeche Mode 2.0, and for anyone who knows me that’s all the summation that needs.

Well, because when you get old, time moves in a different way (as in, faster), summer basically didn’t happen, and before I knew it, it was time to hit the road to Detroit. I was beyond stoked, and played my favorite classics all morning as I finished up some work…. North American Scum, Losing My Edge (probably my favorite lyrics of any song,* and even more pointed AND poignant as an aging creative in my industry. Like, I GET that song: “But I was THERE!”

Anyway- Russ (so game! So indulgent of my schedule dictations and crazy plans!) and I made our escape in the Escape and off we went. We checked into an Air B & B 3 hours later that seemed KIND of sketchy but was “actually really, really nice.”* We poured some warm vodka into a solo cup I had brought along in my bag just in case (it pays to be prepared, and I can be weird about other peoples’ dishes) and about an hour later, after playing tunes and sitting on the bed looking at each other, we summoned an Uber and went to the Whitney, a gorgeous 1800′s mansion converted into a restaurant, dessert parlor, gardens, etc. When Russ saw the white tablecloths he looked at me with wide eyes and said, “Holy shit” and promptly covered his “God Save the Queen” sex pistols shirt with a classy flannel. We agonized in stage whispers how to plan, mesh and merge our overeating vs. cocktailing- (Russ said somewhat accusingly: “THE LAST TIME YOU HAD A FULL FISH DINNER COMPLETE WITH SIDES AND BREAD YOU WENT HOME AND SLEPT”) along with figuring our budget for this meal, which there was none. So, I ordered a crab cake (playing it off with a coquettish “Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite!” to the waiter), and kept asking for more bread.

Yes, I’m cutting to the chase, but I like to add a little background flavor to my “reviews” (which are turning into stories.) Anyway, we ate our way to a pleasant satisfaction, NOT stuffage (key to a good evening.) We left the Whitney and popped into another Uber and got dropped off in front of the imposing, castle-like Masonic Temple theatre (the largest in the world.) It was about 7:30, and the line already snaked around the building. As we exited our Uber, we were met by my fellow LCD fan and Columbus-ite, Kerrie, and her BFF Dani, who had also road-tripped up. We gathered together and moved simultaneously in a clump until we reached the front doors and presented our tickets.

Inside was already a bit of pandemonium. The auditorium was the size of the indoor LC, (oops, Express Live) with the ornate-ness of the Ohio Theatre, with arches leading through to aisleways into the venue and beverage/snack counters like the Schott or any basketball arena.. Kerrie and Dani had balcony seats so up they went, and Russ and I made our way to the floor. (Earlier Russ had asked, “Is there an opener?” I had said, “I bet there will just be a DJ” and bingo.) Thudding bass beats blasted into the auditorium, and I rocked out with my Rum and Diet once we found a seat. Get this. Our seats were on the aisle, second row from the floor. (The whole show was GA, and I couldn’t believe what a great spot we got.) It was like being on the floor, but– I could see better because we were elevated a bit OVER the floor, and I could sit if I damn well chose to do so.

The DJ spun, the floor in front of us filled, and before I knew it the place was maxium capacity, with people even spilling into the aisles. A wisp of smoke, a darkened stage, and the screams began… as the opening notes of the first track off their new album, “Oh Baby” filtered into our eardrums. The build of swirling, tinkling keys sounded like a fairy tale, or Tinkerbell, or making one feel they should be standing in a darkened field with stars swirling dizzingly around them in sparkling rotation.

I was agog at taking in the sight of James Murphy (and all his gear!), my shaggy-haired hero. Who IS this odd genius, cool yet mad, hipster yet pushing 50, dapper yet rough, a singer/songwriter/drummer/pianist/programmer/DJ/mixmaster? Such a hodgepodge of talent, so much so that I can’t pin him down with a word. He almost seemed as if he was the maestro of an orchestra, or big-band leader at a supper club, in his white shirt and black jacket (and black jeans). For the entire show, he was the beacon on the stage that everyone revolved around. Even when laying down the most danceable beats, he stood tall and composed, a beam of light shining upon him.

After the magical vibe of “Oh Baby” faded away, the band launched into a rapid-fire, doubletime, raw take on “Daft Punk is Playing at My House”, causing a frenzy of moshing and screaming. The stage turned red under the lights, fists were pumped, and a cowbell made a bold and badass appearance:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLWUIy0dvTk&feature=youtu.be

“Call the Police”, with its deep bass riff toward the end (ba bum bum bum da da ad DA da, repeat) slayed the crowd; like “Daft Punk…”, the tempo was amped considerably. In fact, most songs were played with a driving, energetic urgency, almost as if the band couldn’t keep up with themselves. Everything was spot-on… clear vocals, an assured presence, drummers that bounced up and down as they slammed the sticks– James hit every high note with thoughtful preparation… (’we don’t waste time with…love”). He commands this song with Bono-like intensity. (I think he sounds like Bono on a lot of the new album, if you must know).

Get Innocuous, You Wanted a Hit, ferocious and fun, blasted out next. And then, I made a critical error. Fateful, dare I say. Like Icarus soaring cockily to the sun, because I have done this hundreds of times before with no negative consequence… I left to “bring back drinks.”

I headed up the packed aisle and walked down the marble steps to the basement- the quickest and closest bar. I pulled my sweaty 20 from my bosom and got a bottle of water, a Pabst (lol) for Russ, and a rum and diet. After waiting 10 minutes, I gathered my sundries and climbed back upstairs, finding my entry way to “aisle 3.” And I was met by a wall of bodies. No, more like..a CONE of bodies, packing every square, breathable atom of space and air from the top of the entryway down to the floor. My 5′2 self, carrying three beverages, pushed boldly on, and then confusedly, and then feebly. The oxygen was sucked from my lungs, I was being eaten alive by warm, sweaty, douchebag bodies as they sucked me in the Upside Down like Barb. My cracking, forlorn, yet agitated voice called “RUSS..” (dear God, why. The auditorium was powering out decibels with the same power of the sun.) It was so dark, so loud, so packed, I didn’t even know where I was heading. To top it all off, in the cruelest sense of irony, during my time of woe the band was blissfully singing their gentlest, saddest song, “Someone Great.” As I pushed and sloshed through the Upside Down of bodies, my wrists wet from rum, a ragged sob burst forth from my throat. I sensed I was getting close to the floor… and then I was being grabbed and clawed, some colossal dickhead grabbing the neck of my shirt to keep me from getting through, grabbing my drink and spilling it, and then his friends laughing – I felt I was in a fucking funhouse hall of horrifying mirrors. Like, if it was a movie, I would have seen their faces in slow mo moving toward me with deep, slowed-down, “HA, HA, HA’s.” Somehow, I found myself on the floor, which meant I had bypassed my second row seat. As the haunting lyrics, “when someone great is gone… when someone great is gone…” were being sung, in a weird way I trying to listen to it I was pissed I was missing it, while the rest of me was painfully aware I had no idea how to find Russ. Would Russ be singing those lines about me when I never returned? I wondered forlornly. A girl yelled - “YOU’RE ON THE FLOOR” and I stared at her blankly and yelled back, “I’M ON THE FLOOR?” All my instincts could do was send me away from the floor. Like a penguin on their programmed quest for winter food, I marched back toward the packed aisle. My foot felt a step up- I had made the front row. My eyes scanned the seats, and finally I saw Russ standing. I shoved my way into any available hole that a human body made as it stood next to another human body it was not connected to, and I slithered my way to my (unbelievably) still-empty seat. I collapsed, tossed Russ his pabst, and wiped an exhausted, emotional , drunken tear from my cheek, barely able to blurt: “I WAS ASSAULTED AND THE AISLE WAS PACKED.” I then slammed the remaining droplets at the bottom of my spilled drink.

SO, YEAH! ‘Someone Grea’t was… great. (It really was. I was hyperaware of it as I was going through my trauma.) Once settled, though, I shook it off, and danced with vigor at Yr City’s a Sucker and Tonite, Tonite (which sounds like a Daft Punk song. Ironic? Discuss.).

“We’re going to the bathroom, then we’re coming back,” James informed the crowd, so we settled down a bit because I had a feeling that Dance Yrself Clean may be one of the encores… I was not disappointed! It put a worthwhile capper on the whole evening. “Ahhh ahhhhhh, ahhh ahhh….” rang out the harmonies, with the chirpy RD2-D2 synth sounds peppering underneath, and then, the big, bold, reverb-y breakdown…. ahhhh! Washed clean. Danced clean.

Here I am, sweaty with the abovementioned cleanse. I look like I’ve been through the “wringer”, so to speak. Hot mess!:

(as my POS phone had died, I was begging Russ to document the evening in a photographic sense.) Anyway, we weren’t quite sure what to do because we were both feeling pretty rough and tired at this point… so we wandered toward the casino. Once we got there, we sat down at a metal table in a glorified food court, looked at each other and said, “what the hell are we doing here?” I really just wanted a huge bottle of water, and maybe a sub. Like- Justin and Karly, if you are reading this, I really just wanted that pizza place/bar we stumbled into on the way back from the U2 show in Cleveland. Quiet, dark,dumpy, whatever. SOOOO, we ubered back to the air b & b (in Lafayette Park- which I am reading was a hotbed for Mies Van Der Rohe’s’ residential buildings, and I wonder if the apartment building we stayed in was one of them?)

I had a half a bottle of water waiting for me from earlier, which I chugged; I ripped out my contacts, changed into my slug clothes, and hopped in bed. I wondered aloud if I would be able to sleep– many times after a concert I am too jacked up, especially when rum & diet is involved. Like a magical elf, Russ rolls toward me, producing a Klonopin he takes for his own sleep issues. I cracked the hell up. Russ then literally proffered it on his finger and put it in my mouth, saying in a creepy voice, “Take it, kid… just let it dissolve and see the rainbow.” Holllllllyyyy shite.

So- I love this band, they are a sinuous, living, silvery, fluid octopus of harmony and rhythm, soft and loud, thundering and syncopated and layers of weirdness and stops and starts. As I read weeks ago– the only band who could produce a 9-minute pop song and leave you wanting more. WHO are they? WHAT do they create? Just like me getting trapped in a throng of screaming, pulsating bodies, there are some things we may never understand.

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