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moondustis · 4 years

Text

songs for you (m)

pairing: nakamoto yuta + reader genre: smut, angst, fluff / friends to lovers, 70s, band!au word count: 10k summary: A story about dreams, music, groupies and falling in love with your best friend. It’s the 70s, baby, live a little. song rec: miss you - the rolling stones / woman - harry styles / grow up - paramore

You don’t remember much of your childhood, just flashes and weird memories that pop in every now and then. That’s what happens as you get older, you guess. But here’s something you remember:

Nakamoto Yuta, three years older than you, walking inside your house with his mother holding his hand. You had seen the woman before, a very good friend of your mom from a long time ago, but the scrawny kid by her side was something new. And in your young age, nothing seemed more intimidating than a boy older and taller than you.

It didn’t go very well, let’s just put it like that.

But still, for some reason, after that day the boy sticked to your side like glue. A friend you could say, even with the age difference and the intimidating stares. It was like Yuta got himself a permanent place on your life, always teasing you, but also always making sure you were okay.

As a teenager, you remember daydreaming of travelling the world. Finally getting away from the too small town you lived in and away from all the stupid closed minded people that wanted to know about everybody's business. You remember Yuta showing you songs that you never heard before, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, Hendrix, the list would go on and on. It was like music became a little world you had built for yourselves, where you could be who you truly wanted to be.

The both of you had always dreamed of something more, something exciting and that made your blood rush with adrenaline. You wanted to live, experience the things you only heard about in the records Yuta played for you and what you saw on the telly at late night at his house.

That’s something you had been thinking about a lot these days, while you watched roads pass by through the windows of the barely comfortable tour bus. Because, somehow, you had made it, your dreams had come true and at the age of 20 you got to go on tour with your band and finally see the world you had only fantasized about, even if it was only a few cities not that far from yours.

The band, put together by none other than you and your best friend, consisted of four people: you on the guitar, something you had learned by watching Jimi Hendrix too much, Taeyong on the bass, Doyoung singing, Johnny on the keyboard and last but not least, Yuta as the drummer. Oh, and you couldn’t forget about Taeil, your self proclaimed manager that didn’t gain anything with this job but the opportunity to travel with you all.

And with punk and classic rock influences all over your songs, you were not half bad, had gotten the opportunity to tour for a reason and could even make the small crowds that gathered to see you sing along, achieving an even smaller amount of fans that proclaimed their adoration for you.

It was literally the start of a dream come true, but for some reason you had been feeling weird the past days. Like your mind just started wondering out of nowhere, like it is now, and you started to think about things that made a lump form in your throat. Because see, it was great, the music and all the perfoming, the parties and the small magazines, but you didn’t feel happy all the time. You wondered if 16 year old you would be proud.

A loud clash spurs you out of your trance and brings you back to the studio you’re all in, trying to record a new song. Yuta looks at you with an annoyed expression as the plate on the drums still stirs.

“Wake the fuck up, you’re daydreaming again.” He says, without real bite to the words, but still mean enough to make you snap back. “We only have one hour left and the song is not even halfway finished.”

“Sorry.” You murmur, guitar feeling heavy but comfortable as you reposition it. Taeyong starts counting and then the melody of the familiar song you had all finished writing yesterday starts. Your fingers find the guitar strings with ease and you let yourself go with the music.

❀

There were few things better than making music with your best friends. Travelling to different places, standing in front of a crowd no matter how small and performing, the money you managed to split among yourselves, they were all great but nothing came close to being in a studio with the people that became your family while you did the thing you all loved the most.

It’s a small studio this time but the atmosphere is good, with velvet walls, tiled floor and low lights. The smell of weed is intoxicating and you feel high after not even that many hits. Maybe it’s just the joy of being in the moment.

The small sketchbook you take around with you everywhere stays placed on your lap with possible lyrics written all over it in a messy way, because when inspiration hits it’s impossible to keep an organized mind. Your head stays tilted back, eyes closed as the melody Taeyong is playing and your own thoughts fill your head. They come and go with no rush, something that is rare because usually you’re all over the place, overthinking until you get a headache.

Taeyong hums something to go along with the bass and a smile forms in your lips at how good it sounds already, good enough to have your eyes opening as you write down the things your mind provides. These days it’s mostly about the same things, finding yourself and the overwhelming feeling that came with it, even more when you did it while discovering the world and you recent acquainted opportunities. But they are also about something that you like to ignore. You knew very well it was there, would be too obvious if you didn't, but pretending you didn’t was better. Safer.

Johnny plops down next to you on the leather couch, a silly smile on his lips as he tries to take a peek at your writing. “What is it you got there? Another love song?” He asks just the tiniest bit teasingly, making you blush because that’s the exact subject you would like to avoid.

Love, what a weird thing isn’t it? Both in concept and in practice.

You had once thought you would never fall in love, too independent and doing well on your own. But that’s the thing about it, you don’t really get to choose when or if it’s going to happen. Love strips you down of your free will and there’s nothing you can do but succumb to it.

Were you in love, though? That’s a good question, really. You weren’t one to think you knew everything about it and had it all figured out, because in reality the mere thought of it scared you. But there’s this feeling on your chest that you can quite find another word for.

“Maybe.” It’s your answer to Johnny’s question. “But it’s none of your business.”

He laughs when you poke out your tongue at him, nudging your shoulder playfully. “It is when I’ll be also playing it live.”

He’s right but you won’t give out the privilege of letting him know that. Not that you would have time, because Taeyong is calling him to go over the melody together and soon you’re on the couch by yourself again.

You ponder getting up as well to play a little, on hopes to find the right notes to fit the raw lyrics you had, but your body feels lethargic enough from being high and you decide against it.

Closing your eyes again you only open them when the couch tips again, this time Yuta sits down close to you. Closer than Johnny had and you can smell his cologne amidst the strong smell of weed that's in the entire room.

“What you up to?” He asks, arm resting behind you on the couch and the gesture makes you feel small. He smiles, glancing down at your notebook and flipping through the pages gently.

“Just… writing and stuff.” You feel higher now than you did before for some reason.

He hums, looking straight ahead now, but you continue looking at him. “You’ve been really quiet lately.” He points out, no beating around or questioning. It must’ve took a lot of thinking from his part to finally say that to you, because talking about anything that could become too personal was far from his strength.

“Yeah, I think I’m probably just homesick. Or something like that.” It’s not a full lie so he falls for it, nodding as if indicating he feels the same.

“Missing your mom’s cooking, huh? Can’t say I’m not either.” He jokes and it makes you crack a smile. “But I get that. But most times when I start to get homesick I remember I got you.”

He says it still looking at Taeyong and Johnny as they play. His voice is calm, slightly slurred when he adds. “And you’re practically home to me.”

His eyes move to you then, a smile on his lips as his arm pushes you closer in an almost hug. He acts as if he just didn’t say something that makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Like he didn’t just say something that made you think you were in fact, in love.

❀

The adrenaline that came with performing in front of more than twenty people was something unmatched. You jump around the stage, playing like it could be your last time with fingers a little red from the guitar strings but you couldn’t care less, not with the music playing so loud and your heart beating so fast.

Yuta smiles wickedly when you stand in front of him, hands moving as fast as yours as the drum and guitar mix together. You smile back, thrilled and beyond excited that you get to do this with your best friend every night.

The best friend which you had been nurturing feeling you didn’t know how to deal with for. What a messy situation, because for one there was an unsaid rule that you shouldn’t have any sort of romantic relationship with your bandmates. And secondly, Yuta just wasn’t interested in you like that, he had his groupies to keep him busy.

Groupies that don’t take long after the end of the show to gather around him as you walk outside the venue. And you would really like to say that it doesn't bother you, that you couldn't care less, but you can’t. Because you hate it and think it’s a little pathetic how Yuta whispers something to a girl wearing barely anything and how it makes her giggle.

But even more pathetic is the fact that you seem to be bothered by it only because it’s him. All your other bandmates had girls all around them too, Doyoung especially with a different girl under both of his arms. Hell, even you had a small share of men and women that tried their luck approaching you and no one seemed to pay no mind.

When it came to Yuta’s groupies though, it made you almost livid. With how obnoxious they were and how he gave then smiles and flirted like a man with a very defined goal.

You manage to play it cool, though, had mastered the art of pretending by now.

❀

You're sitting on the hotel bed, the only light coming from the outside lamps and the moon shining bright, but it’s enough for you to be able to write the words down on your sketchbook. Inspiration always striked at late nights for some reason, probably because of the loneliness of it all.

You’re playing the guitar mindless, trying to find the perfect melody to fit the lyrics you had just gotten out, when there’s knock in the door. And it would be weird if you weren’t already used to it.

Putting the guitar aside you get up from the bed and tiptoe to the door, peeking on the fish eye to confirm your suspicious. Yuta stands there, hair falling to his face and wearing a shirt that has too many buttons open. He smiles when you open the door, charming and familiar. “Hello there, sweet cheeks.”

Rolling your eyes, you move out of the way to let him get inside your hotel room. “That’s the worst pet name you could ever come up with.”

He makes himself comfortable, plopping down on your bed and taking a lot of space with his spreading. “Don’t lie, I know you like it.” His voice is convinced and you won’t bother trying to change his mind.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, changing the subject as you move to sit on your previous spot. Now, closer to him, you can smell the faint smell of his cigarettes lingering underneath the cologne he probably applied so you wouldn’t notice. Smoking was the way he found to deal with the annoying thoughts that filled his mind at night, resulting in an awful case of insomnia. Not that he would admit that.

“Sleep is for the weak.” He says nonchalantly and you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah. Real artists live on coke and music, is that it?”

He laughs now, amused while he scratches the exposed tattooed skin of his stomach. “That’s the spirit. We’re already halfway there, might as well, huh?” He jokes and you just roll your eyes, kicking him lightly on the shoulder.

“We can't have that stuff around us. One line and Taeyong will be climbing up walls.”

“Taeyong? Please, we both know the one climbing walls would be you.”

You laugh out loud this time and he follows, shaking his head. Times like these, where it was just the two of you, felt too much like when you would stay in his room to listen to records and talk about things that didn’t really make sense.

When your laughter settles down Yuta moves around until his eyes land on your sketchbook and he takes it to read what you’ve been working on. You don’t protest because there’s no reason to, he knows your thoughts almost as well as you do.

He hums, eyes roaming around the page and lips turning a little. “This is good.” His voice is genuine and it makes you blush, praise was something weird to take.

“I’m still working on it, though.”

“Hmm, let me know when you finish it then, we can work the melody together.”

“Of course, can’t make a song without my favorite drummer.” You say it in a funny voice as if you’re joking but he knows it’s nothing but the truth. The first song you had made with him was at 17 and now every time inspiration struck he was always either by your side or on your mind. He called it a connection, a deep one that many artists could only dream of happening. Musical soulmates he had called it once and you agreed, it was like you were just in tune with each other.

You play a little of what you had so far to him, the clock blinking red when it hits 1AM but neither of you bother.

When you get tired of playing you decide to press on the matter. “What were you thinking about?” You start, voice low as if to not scare him off. “That made you lose sleep.”

He must be feeling calm because he lets the words fall out. “Taeil suggested that we make a song with pop influence.” He says and you grimace. “To reach a wider audience.”

“That’s fucking stupid.” Is all you say because it’s what it is. Pop had nothing to do with your style, never had and never would. Not that you hated it, but it wasn’t what you were passionate about.

Yuta chuckles lightly. “That’s what I told him.”

“That’s good.” You say and a minute of silence follows, someone outside drives away, a wheels on concrete sound filling the room. There’s something unspoken in the air, a promise you had made to each other when this tour started.

Music was the thing the two of you loved the most, and nothing, not even money, would change how you did it. The deal was to always stay loyal to that thought.

“We got each other’s back, right?” He asks sudden, but it’s a rhetorical question because he’s soon adding. “That’s all we got in this world, our music and ourselves.”

You look down at him but his eyes stay glued to the wall. A lump forms in your throat at the heaviness of his words and you have to swallow around it to reply. “It’s always gonna be us.” You say in a broken but sure voice. “No matter what.”

“Fuck yeah.” He says quietly and you both laugh.

❀

One thing that you learned with your recently discovered success was that parties became boring quite fast. Loud music and people getting way more drunk or high than they should near a pool was a dangerous mistake. Still, you always followed down the same road.

Your bandmates liked them, a way to interact more with people and an opportunity to get high for free. Music came from experiences, it’s what Johnny always said and you agreed partly because there was indeed something inspiring about being among people that were having fun, that felt carefree.

You take a sip from your beer with that though on your head, leaning against a wall as you watch last mentioned man swing his hips in a messy way in the middle of the living room as two girls laugh and dance with him. You can’t help but laugh alongside with them, even if you’re standing on the opposite side of the room.

It’s a small house, from someone you never met before, but being in a small city always meant crashing a house party with too many college kids that usually screamed when they recognized mostly Doyoung from the posters spread across town.

The slightly buzz of alcohol made you feel like you were floating, head just slightly spinning and you lean against a wall to keep yourself steady. There’s not much going on inside your brain, just the numbness of being just a bit drunk and you enjoyed it, made you feel content.

You clean your wet palm from the beer’s perspiration on your jeans, eyes roaming around the room until you find him. Yuta stands on a wall opposite from the one you are, the bandana on his head keeping the hair out of his face and making you see his features more clearly. He looks good tonight, as he does always, but the post concert glow really did wonders to him and the way his exposed tattooed arms flexed a little when he moved made your head spin again.

It had become a habit, one that you wanted to desperately get rid off. Watching Yuta, almost as if you were analyzing every little detail about him, left you with a weird feeling in your stomach. There he was, the person you felt the closest to in the entire world, the person whom you already knew everything about, but when it was like this, with you staring without him knowing, you felt like he was still a mysterious person. Someone you would be lucky to dive deep into.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks at something the girl besides him whispers in his ear, probably something raunchy by the way he tries to bring her closer. You look away.

Taeyong finds you like that, beer going warm in your hand and your eyes dazed staring at nothing as you overthink every single thing. He smiles when he sees you, probably a little tipsy himself as he leans against the wall so close to you that your hips touch. “What are you doing here alone?” He asks, bumping against your side playfully and it gets a smile from you.

After Yuta, Taeyong was the closest to you in the band, for the simple fact that he cared. Not that the others didn’t, but Taeyong always made sure everyone was doing ok and that had made you feel safe, helped shape the friendship you have today of sharing your secrets and supporting each other.

“Just don't feel like socializing.” Is your reply, because it’s true. People at these parties were usually terrible at small talk or so pretentious they made you feel stupid for even thinking.

He hums, following your vision line as it goes back to Yuta again. His arm is now wrapped around the girl so you look away immediately.

You don’t see the way Taeyong looks at you emphatically. “Have you ever thought about telling him?” It’s obvious what the question is about because as much as you’d like to think you’re good at hiding it, you wouldn’t be good enough to hide it from him.

Still, you try to lie. “What? There's nothing to tell.” The awkward laugh and roll of your eyes are a dead giveaway, too forced to even come close to being genuine.

He laughs in disbelief of your attempts. “Yeah, alright. Just remember you’ll never know the things you don’t try.”

It makes you scoff. How poetic, probably a great thing to say to a drunk girl who’s already having risky thoughts. “Wow, we should definitely write a song about that.” You joke, trying to shift the subject to something else.

“Ha-ha.” He fake laughs but there’s still amusement on his face. “I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” How serious could he be after too many beers, you think to yourself. Maybe you were a fan of being in denial, so you shrug and just do your best to think about something else.

Something pops up on your head, a bad idea most definitely, so you act on lazy impulse. Walking just far enough to throw the still almost full beer bottle and then you come back to stand in front of Taeyong. You must have really be going crazy.

He rolls his eyes even before you talk or put your hands on his shoulders, but still moves to hold your hips. “Yongie…” It’s a sickeningly cute voice, one you use as a joke when you want something. It makes him crack a smile, already knowing what is coming. “I think we should kiss.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hips and smiling. “I’ll have to agree just because you look cute tonight.” You laugh right back at him.

And then you’re kissing, like you had done before in the past for reasons that were the same as the one right now. Boredom, loneliness, horniness or just because. It was a friendly kiss, shared between two people that knew it would never go further than that. And it was good, his tongue sliding against yours in slow motions that are just the tiniest bit sensual because that’s just how Taeyong liked to kiss. It was so good that you forget for a second about other things, such as Yuta.

Yuta who happens to be watching, or better yet glaring, from the other side of the room as you kiss your friend. Yuta who tells the girl he’s with that he’s not in the mood anymore and leaves the party.

In some cases, ignorance truly is bliss.

❀

The dressing room was always a mess before a show, no matter how sketchy, dirty or small it was. Trust a group of musicians that had no basic decency to behave like this to calm their nerves before performing.

Johnny is pressing random notes on the keyboard, making sounds that would be unpleasant to anyone else, but you and Taeyong dance to it in weird moves that get you laughing as Doyoung sings extremely off key. The only one not taking part in your shenanigans is Yuta, who stays on the old couch writing on his notebook, and even if you wanted to call him over, you know better than to bother him.

You don’t even notice when Taeil walks into the room, holding what looks like a folder in his hand and barely helping the excited grin that wants to settle on his face. “Hey!” He tries once to get everyone to pay attention but without success. “HEY!”

His shout has all of you turning to look at him, Johnny’s fingers stopping on the keyboard and the sounds that filled the room before give way to Taeil’s rushed voice.

“I have some really good fucking news.” He announces, shaking the papers around in the air as if any of you could ever guess what’s in those papers.

“What is it?”

“Spit it out, cutie.” Comes Johnny voice and you all laugh. Making Taeil flustrated is easy but he pays it no mind right now, whatever it is he wants to say clearly more important than stupid jokes.

“A Neo Records scout was at the concert last night.” He says with edge on his voice earning confused and shocked reactions from all of you

“What the fuck?” Doyoung groans, dropping his face on his hands. “How did we not know that?”

“How could we even know? These people are sneaky as hell.”

After that the room just becomes a mess of you all talking over each other, putting yourselves down for not having performed better, for not playing better songs.

Taeil has enough of it very fast, yelling over all of you to regain your attention. “None of that matters, because he liked the performance. And,” He breaths out, a pause that has you walking forward to urge him on, “he wants to sign you guys.”

A shriek leaves your lips as someone mutters a curse. It’s unbelievable, not even Taeyong’s hand gripping your arm in excitement manages to spur you out of your trance. “Oh my god. Do they really?” He exclaims and you feel tears forming at your eyes.

“Yes. He said you guys have a lot of potential and after the tour is over they’re going to fly you all out to L.A to record an EP.” Taeil explains in calmness but just enough giddiness to his voice.

There’s no words to describe how much this means. No one in their right mind would ever sign a contract with a band that had a girl playing guitar in it. Women in rock and roll were there to be pretty, you were very much aware of how much hate The Runaways were getting constantly, how much sexist shit you yourself had to hear.

But this, this right here was an opportunity to take your dream to the next level, do something that actually stood a chance of getting recognized.

Your eyes look for Yuta’s, to share the excitement of getting this far but when they meet he holds your gaze in an expression you can't quite pinpoint. His voice raises suddenly, making everyone in the room look at him. “What’s the catch?” He uncrosses his legs, widening them as he looks at Taeil with his pierced eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “I mean, a big record like them wanting to sign with us, there must be something they want out of this.” You furrow your eyebrows because as much sense he makes, it sounds like he’s looking for conflict.

Taeil gapes, as if looking for the right words and you realize there is in fact a catch. “I — Well, they just… They just think it would be nice to have some songs that are more public friendly, but it can be discuss-“

Yuta’s laugh cuts Taeil short. He’s an intimidating person, even more when he looks pissed off and right now as he gets up from the couch you feel like the air is tense enough to cut. “We’re not making shitty manufactured pop songs, man.”

Usually a comment like that would be taken as a joke between all of you, but he says it in a sharp voice and you know it’s because he has had this same conversation with your manager not that many days ago. But still, you feel like there’s something more, even if Yuta wasn't keen on letting his feelings show, you knew something was going on with how distant he had become the last days.

“Come on,Yuta.” The voice comes from Taeyong, moving away from your side to face Yuta properly. There’s not an ounce of bitterness in his voice, only sympathy because you all share the same passions. “This is a crazy opportunity, we can’t let it pass.”

And then you’re sure there’s something going on that goes way over this, because Yuta is pushing Taeyong and mutetting words that you wish he doesn’t mean.”What do you even fucking know? Y’all will just take any validation you can get like little bitches.” It’s simple but it has venom to it. Venom that makes Taeyong’s face contort because he despises confrontation and at that you come forward, pushing Yuta the same way he did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You sound way too emotional and it makes you hate yourself. Yuta just looks at you like he’s annoyed, his shoulders knocking against yours as he walks out of the room.

You look down, shaking your head in disbelief and feeling tired from the quick rise and fall of emotions. Feeling someone hover over you, you look up to find Johnny’s eyes staring down with what looks like sorrow. “Don’t stress over it, he’ll come around to it eventually.”

And you really hope that’s true.

❀

After that, things go back to the same routine of being in a bus for hours, performing in a sketchy bar, getting shitfaced drunk and then doing it all over again. The only difference is that now there’s a tension in the air that comes from both Yuta’s outburst and the prospect of all of this becoming something bigger than it is.

The higher executives at Neo Records or whoever made the decision to sign the band, had given you until your last performance to make a decision. There’s only three shows left until that, but that’s the last thing on your mind as your play a riff that makes the bigger than normal crowd that gathered today scream.

There’s blinding lights on the stage that make you feel like you’re dreaming, the sound of Doyoung half singing half screaming just slightly muted. You turn to where Yuta is, giving his all because he would never do anything but that and when the drumstick hits a plate in a sharp noise he looks right back at you.

Something had changed, you’re not dumb to not know that. But what it was exactly seemed to escape you, because Yuta was just too good at keeping things to himself, too mysterious for your sake. So he keeps giving you this look, a look that wants to be more than that but it’s not that easy to decypher. A look that you ignore to continue playing.

A look that you ignore when you all come out of the stage, sweaty and with adrenaline filling your hearts. That you ignore when everyone gathers around the hotel pool to have a beer and joke around, Johnny jumping on it and splashing everyone on the way.

A look that you can’t ignore any longer as you stand outside of Yuta’s room after everyone has retreated for the night, knocking softly until he opens the door.

This is still the same, he makes way for you to get inside and the scent of him that fills the room make your mind spin. He’s shirtless, probably ready to get to bed, and you can see all of his tattoos and the piercing on his navel on display.

Clearing your throat, you watch as he takes a seat on the bed, legs spread open and looking at you like he’s waiting for you to talk. “Something is going on.” Is what you decided on, not too keen on beating around the bush.

“A lot of things are going on.” He points out and you have to roll your eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Maybe I don’t, so why don’t you make it clear for me?” He’s being defensive, you expected this, but it still makes your blood boil.

“See? There’s no reason for you to give me attitude right now but here we are, so there’s clearly something going on.” You cross your arms on your chest, still standing in the middle of the room like a fool as he chuckles.

“You keep saying that but I think you know very well what’s going on.” He sounds annoyed now, staring directly at you. “You just expect me to accept this shit? For money or whatever it is that you all are looking for?”

His words sound empty so you squint your eyes at him in defiance. “You’re being an asshole, this is not your dream exclusively. You’re not our fucking frontman.”

That makes him scoff. “Please, there wouldn’t be a fucking band to be signed if it weren’t for me.”

Now you really get mad, laughing in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? We started this shit together.” You want to punch him in the face, get the annoyed look right out of his face and remind him.

He looks down, shaking his head in what you think is disbelief. “So why does it feel like you’re not by my side?” His choice of words make your eyebrows furrow. When had you not been loyal to him? You have been by his side since you were 7, nothing had changed. “Seems to me that you’re always taking your little boyfriend’s side now.”

“What?” There’s nothing but confusion in your features as you let your arms fall to your sides. “What boyfriend? Are you fucking out of your-“

He interrupts you with a groan.“Come on, I saw the two of you kissing.”

You blink slowly and then when you realize what he’s talking about, you’re completely outraged. “Taeyong? I’m not dating Taeyong.” Your voice is going higher by the minute and he seems to be getting just as heated.

“Why were you kissing him then?” He asks, getting up from the bed and moving closer to you.

You can’t help the incredulous high laughter that leaves your lips. “Because I wanted to. Is this why you have been acting like this? Why does it even matter to you?”

His tongue curls on the roof of his mouth, looking at you with angry eyes. “Because it does.”

You squint your eyes again, not believing this is really going on right now. Yuta, who hooked up with a different girl every night, patronizing you for kissing someone. It makes something boil inside of you that you find incredibly awful. “Why does it matter?” You demand, pushing him when he doesn’t answer. “Why?”

His face contorts in something you think is guilty, eyes roaming around your own and lips parting. For a second you think he’s going to say something, then you think he’s going to do something else. But none of that happens.

You push him again, no strength to it but he still falls down on the bed in defeat. A lump forms in your throat as he avoids your eyes.

You leave the room before he can see the tears.

❀

The day it happened is still fresh in your memory.

Your bedroom is the classic teenager one, filled with posters of all kind of things, from movies to bands and just quotes that inspired something within. But the one you like the most, of Joan Jett being a complete badass, stares right back at you from where you’re staring at the ceiling. You still remember dreaming about becoming like her one day.

There’s a song playing, something from the Rolling Stones that Yuta had wanted to show you and had practically stormed inside of your house with a vinyl on his hands to do so.

Said man looks at you from your bedroom floor, his now black hair long enough to tie into a small ponytail. There’s a piercing on various parts of his body and that’s enough reason for every girl in the city to want a piece of him, his aura just helped the whole thing. You remember that at 16 you thought it was amazing too. How he just carried himself with so much confidence, how he was always unapologetic. Yuta was someone you looked up to.

“We could do it, you know?” He says out of nowhere, getting you to finally stare back at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Do what?”

“Start a band.”

You laugh because he was like that. Talked about things that he wanted to do with ease, not matter how crazy or unordinary they were. “Sure.” Is what you reply with, giving him a smile.

“I’m being serious.” He urges on. “We can do it, me and you. Just make the music we want to and have fun.”

You think about it for a second but there’s not really a reason to. You would do anything with Yuta. “Ok.” That makes him smile. “Yeah, ok. Let’s start a band.”

Back to the present, your tears stain the stark white fabric of the pillow case. You wonder in the back of your head if 16 year old you would be happy right now and that only makes you cry harder.

❀

Pride, isn’t that a stupid thing to have over trivial matters?

You don’t speak to Yuta at all for the following weeks, confusion and anger still filling your mind and tainting your every thought. And he does the same.

It’s comfortable not having to confront him and hear the harsh words you are sure he has stored, but it also makes your skin itch thinking that this stupid fight is going on for too long.

There’s only one show left and then it’s back to reality for a couple of days. The thought of having to go back home and leaving things unsettled with him makes you sick, and it was obvious if someone were to say something it was going to have to be you. Yuta’s pride was too big, even when it didn’t have to be.

So you go after him, because someone had to. Try to get him alone but it’s like there’s always someone around, or he’s too busy composing and it all hurts. It hurts but not enough to make you give up because you know this is merely a pointless fight.

“Where’s Yuta?” You ask Doyoung, who’s sitting by the hotel pool on one of those cheap looking chairs and with a cigarette lit between his lips. The hotel this time was not as nice as the others, the pool looks unkempt like no one had even touched it in at least a month.

Doyoung blows out smoke, looking at you with a tired face that you probably share from all the performances that are just now weighing down on your shoulders. “I think he went out to some party with Johnny.” He says absently and you huff in defeat, slumping down on the chair next to him.

“Asshole.” You mumble out, shutting your eyes for a moment and then it’s silent. The only noises filling your ears are from the ice machine and from the tall lamps.

Then there’s some rustling going around before Doyoung speaks. “Listen, I know that’s not any of my business, and believe me I would much rather stay out of it.” It’s what he starts with and you almost already know what he’s going to say. “But you two need to figure your shit out.”

Trust your lead singer to just lay down the obvious to you because sometimes that's all you need to hear. You scoff. “That’s what I wanted to do.” In the back of your mind you try not to think about what figuring your shit out would entail.

“He can be a dickhead sometimes, but he’s with us.” He says as if that wasn't something you knew already. “And he said he’ll sign the deal, you know? Had a whole theatrical chat with Taeil and all.”

That’s new information, that makes you squeeze your eyes shut in both excitement and frustration at the same time, because if that was already dealt with then the reason why he was acting like this with you was for something else like you had imagined.

You think of something to say, settling on what you felt deep down the moment you got inside that tour bus. “I… I just don’t want things to change.”

That makes Doyong laugh, his voice hoarse when he says. “They already have, love. You just gotta move forward with it.”

❀

You barely remember the last show, exhaustion finally catching up with your body. You remember the trashy alternative bar, remember some people singing along which was absolutely surreal and you remember the groupies crying about how they would miss the band while you took a little break. Anything other than that is a blur and forgotten as you sleep through the entirety of the trip back home, not bothering with the bumps in the roads or how awful the tour bus smelled after weeks.

You don’t notice until later that Yuta hadn’t even gotten on the bus with everyone else. Instead, as Johnny had said, he went on a small trip and would be back in town by the end of the week. You try not to worry about it too much.

Being back home feels weird and you start thinking about what Doyoung had said that day near the pool. Everything has changed, yes, and now your bedroom feels too small. The band posters don’t inspire you anymore as much as they ignite a fire inside that’s too big to extinguish. Your mother’s hug feels comforting but it doesn’t hold you back.

You were still scared, of course, but being back home made you realize that you craved it too much to let fear hold you back. Because how does one go back to reality like when they had a taste of their dreams? How do they live without wanting a bigger taste, to eat it whole?

The only thought in your head as you lay leisurely in your bed for the next days is that you can’t wait to make more music with your friends.

With Yuta. (Thinking of him makes you want to cry.)

The phone rings on saturday, just as your mother is leaving for her job at a diner and she yells for you to pick it up quickly. You get up from the bed with a groan, leisurely walking to the phone and greeting whoever is in the other side of the line with a simple “Hello.” It was probably one of your mother’s friends wanting to gossip or someone trying to sell you items for gymnastics at home.

It takes a while for anything to be said but when it does, the voice even if static is a familiar one. “Hey, it’s me.” Yuta says and the effect it has on the butterflies on your stomach is maddening. It had been too long in your opinion, relief immediately settling in your mind.

“I know.” You breath out and he chuckles. “Thought you were out there on a self discovering trip.”

The comment makes him snort, a smile of your own making its way into your lips as you twirl the phone line with a finger.

“I just got back.” He clarifies and then there’s pause that lasts for seconds before he’s speaking again. “Listen, I — Fuck, I don’t wanna do this over the phone. Can I come over?”

Your lips feel dry. “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course you can.” And then he’s hanging up after a promise of not taking too long.

The anxiety that bubbles in your stomach is unpleasant but the thought of finally seeing him overshadows it. Because see, there’s a few ways this could go and in the back of your head you’re sure, one hundred percent sure, that your friendship with him would never be the same. Because again, how does one go back to normal when everything had changed?

Your breath hitches when there’s a knock on the door, your heart race going worryingly up and when you finally open it, Yuta stands there with a grin on his lips and looking like he always did, with an old band t-shirt tucked inside his bell bottom jeans. There’s just one thing. “You got a haircut.” Is the first thing you say, dumbly.

“Yeah.” He says, running a hand through his now blonde, almost white, hair that has the sides shaved. It’s very bold looking but it suits him.

There’s no chit chatting then, he just steps inside and hugs you like you haven’t seen each other in years. You let yourself drown in it, shoulders slumping as you arms circle his back and he hums pleased. “I miss you.” He mumbles against your hair before breaking the hug and looking at you with eyes that say a lot more than his words. “I’m a fucking asshole, right? I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “Yeah, you are.”

That makes him laugh. A laugh that’s comfortable and familiar as the way he walks inside your house, asking for you mother and pouting when he finds out she’s not there. Familiar as the way he walks into your teen bedroom and looks like he fits there just as much as you do when he plops down on your bed. There’s a feeling of nostalgia to it that he must feel too by the way his eyes roam to the poster covered walls.

You sit down on the bed next to him when he pats the empty spot, his hand disappearing inside his pocket and then he’s getting something out of it. “Got you a gift.” He says jiggling around what you now see is a keychain.

“Wow, how considerate of you.” You tease, getting it with your hands and examining the object. “Thank you, Yuta.”

“No biggie.” He shrugs but the way he watches as you swirl it around your hand tells you that he hopes you like it.

It’s one of those ‘I love NY’ keychains, and in your mind you know very well he didn’t go that far so he must’ve bought it in a random store, the fact alone bringing a grin to your lips. But where there was supposed to be a ‘N’, there’s a very badly done scratch so that it reads ‘I love Y” instead. You can’t help the giggle that forms in your throat. “I love Yuta?”

His smile is as wide as possible. “That’s right.” He doesn’t even try to play it cool. “Make sure you put it somewhere visible so everyone can see it.”

You shake your head laughing, but you still promise “I will.”

There’s a silence that follows, one that is filled with his eyes not leaving yours. This is it, you think to yourself, because you both already know it, would be impossible if you didn’t. Still you ask with a quiet voice. “Do you know why I keep writing all these love songs?”

“Yes.” He breathes out without missing a beat. A simple reply was all you expected.

“How long did you know?”

“For a while.”

And then. “Why did it bother you? That I kissed Taeyong?” You play with the hem of your skirt, pulling at a single line of fabric that was hanging from it.

There’s a small smile forming on his lips as he raises his pierced eyebrow at you.“You really don’t know why?” You do now, you both know that. And you wish you had known sooner, but right now you want to hear what he has to say. “Because I’m selfish and a fucking coward.”

His confessions carries all the meaning you need and there’s a few things you could say. But this is about you and it’s about Yuta, your best friend and the one that had been by your side all this time. The two of you didn’t need big gestures, words that would make someone tear up or any theatricals. It was simply how it was meant to be, just the two of you.

“I’m not.” Is what you say and his lips part.

“What?” He asks just to be sure.

“I’m not a coward.”

And then you kiss him, with a press of your lips to his that could as well just be saying how much you had wanted this, how you think you would go crazy if you never got to taste him like this. Because intimacy with Yuta was something you rarely gave yourself the luxury of thinking about, too scared that you would dig a hole deeper than it already was. But now, as his hands hold your cheeks and he pushes you closer, kissing you with just a hint of desperation, you let yourself drown it it.

He does it with expertise that you can’t possibly match and in the back of your head you feel slightly shy for it. Still, there’s no time to think about that when he deepens the kiss, moving your head a little so he can do as he pleases, sucking on your bottom lip and earning a soft noise that comes from your chest.

You don’t know what’s better, the hand he moves to your neck, the one that holds your thigh, almost dipping inside your skirt or how he looks at you when he breaks the kiss a little breathless. His eyes don’t leave your face as he massages the area where his hand is and you think you could melt completely. “Wanted to do this for so long.” He breathes out and your eyes never leave his now heart shaped pink lips.

Nodding in agreement, you mutter teasingly. “Took you long enough.”

He chuckles, pressing another quick peck. “Then I better not waste any more time.”

He kisses you first this time and it’s with purpose, his tongue licking at your lips until you finally give him what he wants. He draws every little noise you make with the way his tongue slides against yours and how he nips at your lips, kissing you deeper with every second he gets.

You feel overwhelmed, because for one this is new and something you never thought you would be doing, in your teen bedroom of all places. The fact that Yuta starts kissing down your neck only helps, his tongue tickling your sensitive skin before he closes his lips around it, sucking enough that it could leave a bruise. For everyone to see, you think, as he presses a small kiss to it afterwards and then moves to the next spot.

He treats you with as much delicacy as his desperation allow him, manhandling you so that you’re laying more comfortably in your bed and he can hover over you as he kisses you again.

You hate feeling small, but like this, with Yuta on top of you, it makes arousal bubble in your body. And when his hand moves to dip inside of your skirt, gripping at your thigh you let that arousal be known in the form of a surprised moan let out against his lips.

He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself as your glossy eyes stare up at him. “You’re so cute, baby.” You feel your cheeks warming up and you hate, as much as he seems to love it, that you’re acting like this in front of your best friend. “I could just eat you up.”

His words are followed by your lips forming a small ‘o’ and then by him kissing you again, this time not waiting to let his tongue move against yours in messy motions that make you crave more of anything he has to give you.

You don’t notice at first that he hands start to move again, but when he plays with the hem of your cotton panties you know that he’s not going to settle for that. It’s embarrassing how quickly you react when he presses his fingers to your covered clit, applying pressure to it and then giving a tentative roll. You cry as quietly as you manage and he watches as your eyes squeeze when he moves his fingers again.

You always had wondered how someone else's fingers would feel compared to your own and when Yuta finally, finally, dips his inside your panties, you are sure no fantasies could compare. He drags two of his fingers down to your entrance, feeling the embarrassing wetness that had gathered and bringing it up to your clit so the circling of his fingers is more pleasant.

He continues to watch you, eyes glued to your face as you let out all kind of noises and move your body as the hint of an orgasm makes your entire body tingle. You feel so close already that you wonder if he can tell.

His movements are slow, almost teasing, and when he kisses you again his tongue moves in the exact speed as his fingers, in a way that makes you clench around nothing. As if sensing that he shifts his hand, your body almost arching from the bed when he dips one long finger inside of you. If he didn’t know about the extents of your inexperience, he knows now with how your walls hug tightly just one of his fingers. The groan he lets out at the feeling is one of the prettiest sounds you had ever heard.

He moves his finger slowly, as if testing the waters and when he curls it just right you gasp at the new feeling. “There?” He asks with a grin and you just nod dumbly, biting on your lips enough to bruise.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if the other girls he had, had came this fast, because when he combines the thrusting of his curled finger to his thumb circling your clit, you feel enough to explode. Doesn’t help that he says his next proposition.

“Let me have a taste, hmm?” His words are muffled from where his lips are pressed on your neck and there’s a very clear mix of feelings that happen inside of your head. You cry out, clearly affected by the proposition and the mere thought of his wet lips against your warmth makes you clench around his fingers. He feels it, of course he does, because he lets out a small moan and grinds down on you a little, his hardness very much there. “Yeah?” He sounds breathless.

“I—I’m.” You gasp when he moves his fingers faster as if to entice you. But this is the extent of your inexperience, the mere thought of him eating you out makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t give in just yet. “I don’t… I-I’m not ready.”

Your voice sounds small but he doesn’t even blink at your denial, instead he kisses you deeply in reassurement. “It’s ok, sweet girl.” He presses down on your clit, giving you exactly the friction you need. “I’ll eat your pretty pussy another day.”

And then his fingers are moving faster, enough that it takes you no time to come with a loud moan that sounds a lot like his name and your hands gripping tightly at the bed sheets. You shake, body trembling as you try to ground yourself but the orgasm is too shattering.

When he removes his fingers from inside you, he licks then clean before moving your shirt upwards so your stomach is exposed. He moves to kneels between your open legs and you’re left confused until he starts unzipping his pants, asking a soft. “Okay?” To which you nod excitedly.

He doesn't ask you to do anything, instead he dips a hand inside his underwear, barely pushing the rest of his pants down as he pulls his cock free. It’s a sight that leaves you breathless, the way he thumbs at the head and smears pre cum around and when that’s not enough, his fingers move inside the mess of your panties, gathering your arousal and bringing it to his hardness in what is the most erotic view you had ever seen.

The first stroke is slow and he bites his lips, looking at you with a fucked out expression. “See what you do to me?” He asks in a groan and you nod in your little haze, eyes not knowing where to look at.

His strokes get quickly faster, with swirls of his wrist and it doesn’t take long for him to let out a strangled moan as he comes with thick spurts in your stomach. You watch it all in awe, the way he twitches in his palm and his eyes fight to stay open. It’s like suddenly you know why there are so many songs about sex.

Afterwards when you’re cleaned and laying on the bed lazily, Yuta plays an unknown melody on your old acoustic guitar with a little inexpertise, humming what you think is the start of a song still in the works.

The sun is about to set and you feel a weird sensation of contentment, a spark blossoming in your chest. You had kissed your best friend, done things with him that reached a level of intimacy you were still learning to navigate, but everything still felt the same.

“Doyoung told me you’re going to sign the contract.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

His eyes don’t leave the guitar strings. “Of course, can’t leave my own band.” He deadpans jokingly and you scoff, nudging him with your feet.

“What if they make us do songs we don’t want to?

“I’m sure you’ll scare them off with your attitude.” He laughs when you gasp, lurching at him but stopping because you couldn’t attack him properly with the guitar on his lap.

Noticing that, he smiles, one eyebrow raising at you as he lets the guitar down and opens his arms almost in a challenge for you to hit him. Which you do, playfully before you’re letting yourself fall putty into his chest. “I don’t have an attitude.” You whine.

He huffs. “Yes you do. But it’s very charming.”

Rolling your eyes you hug him closer, basking in the feeling of having him here with you and the comforting knowledge that he feels the same way you do. “Do you think we’ll be able to handle it? Fame and whatever else comes with it?”

“We were born for it, baby.” He says with a cocky grin, always overwhelmingly confident. “I told you, you and me, we can do anything we want together.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

❀

“Back to earth, pretty girl.” Yuta’s voice snaps you out of another daydream, some ideas for a new album and whatever else filed your mind these days. He sounds slightly demanding but you don’t mind at all.

“Sorry.” You mumble and he gives you a grin that you can’t help but match.

There’s the start of a melody playing in the big studio that was rented for the new album. Johnny says something and you adjust the guitar strap, feeling the familiar and comfortable weight of it as your fingers find the strings with ease.

You glance at Yuta another time and he’s still looking at you, mouthing something you can’t quite understand but by the silly smile on his face you know exactly what it is. “Love you too.” You mouth right back at him, shaking your head at his silliness.

And then the song starts.

❀❀❀❀❀

tag list: @jupitersmark @euphoricdreamies @peachybun-01

#yuta smut #yuta scenarios #nct smut #nct scenarios #i reread this last night and realized its not at all how i wanted it to be #it could be so much better :(#but i hope you guys still enjoy it

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det395 · 3 years

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a self-indulgent writing wrap up post

(thank you @jestbee for the word count tracker)

i was less good at following daily goals than i was just having a few odd days binge-writing and catching up. quarantine made me lose motivation for school and work but i funnelled a lot of my energy into writing fic to ignore the world which is super responsible obviously

Fics posted:

Starlight (Star Wars, Poe/Finn)

Elegy to the Void (Star Wars, Poe/Finn)

Stay The Same (Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley)

Love (Fleabag, gen sorta)

Jigsaw Falling Into Place (Dan/Phil)

Dreams Tonight (Dan/Phil)

Love that I give (Dan/Phil)

Make Me Feel (Dan/Phil/original characters)

as long as i’m here (Dan/Phil)

I never wanted any other way to spend our lives (Dan/Phil)

Trapped in the dark, you found me (Dan/Phil)

Glitch (Dan/Phil)

The sun will always shine (Phil/original character)

I see it in your eyes (Dan/Phil)

In my arms I’ll catch you (Dan/Phil)

Whisper (The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series, Monty/Percy)

the sky is falling in (Hannibal, Hannibal/Will)

Bathe in the glow (Hannibal, Alana/Margot)

This beast that you're after (Hannibal, Hannibal/Will)

Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks (Hannibal, Hannibal/Will)

scattered thoughts:

i wrote exactly 20 fics which satisfies me to find out they fit on one ao3 page

i posted 157,654 words on ao3. i have so many wips in docs rip

the first four fics i wrote were from various media that i watched and didn’t feel quite satisfied with and then after getting those thoughts out, my interest halted and i was at peace

recently i’ve been less invested in the phandom (though i’ll probably linger forever as my interest ebbs and flows, can’t abandon my first fandom or where all my best pals are) but i was surprised to see that over half of the fics i wrote this year were still for them. time is strange. remember the fun moodboard trend? i also have an unposted, mostly finished ginormous wip from summer that will see the light of day one day too bc it is my child that i am neglecting

i felt like jigsaw falling into place was underrated (am i allowed to say that about my own writing?) but that’s just bc it was essentially a confusing diary ramble

i’m very proud of make me feel

why do i barely remember writing some of these fics? it was me being zoned out for half of quarantine i think

in my arms i’ll catch you is one of the most creative things i’ve written

writing hannibal fic has opened my eyes to the fun of writing surreal, almost supernatural elements and all of the potential there is in dark metaphors. my life is changed forever and my new kinks terrify everyone

i have so many ideas for hannibal fics. someone needs to stop me

i am most proud of the sky is falling in. i had ambitious plans that i was sure were going to fall apart but it ended up pulling together in a way i am super happy with. i never lost momentum on it and it is now the longest story i have ever written. i got completely lost in it. this is one of the only fics i sometimes reread parts of and it feels like my child

tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks is the most recent thing i posted and the most popular thing i wrote all year based on kudos. also the 2nd most popular thing ive ever posted, which is cool and kind of funny that it’s had the least time to gain attention. not to toot my own horn again but it was one of those fics where when i wrote it, it just came out exactly how i wanted it to. and i made myself cry. i am so invested that i have almost 10k written of a sequel making everything worse.

i wish id written more fics about women. i wanted to write for killing eve but i struggled with their voices and didn’t have strong enough idea for them getting together. i also had an idea for waverly/nicole that didn’t pan out well. i have 6.4k of an abigail-centric and heavy-on-alana fic written that i also think is intimidatingly ambitious so i might mix it as a co-POV fic but we’ll see how it goes. i did read more f/f than i wrote this year but i guess i still have complicated feelings

the only consistency i have in fic title format is that all of them are based on songs

i may never be the grammar queen but i feel like my writing improved a lot this year and im proud of myself for getting so much out onto a page in some manner

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getalittleclosey · 4 years

Text

under 50k larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 100k

100k+

☆ the beginning of everything by thedeathchamber 31k

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

☆ to kill the mess we’ve made by misandrogyny 43k

And when he's finally standing, Liam fussing over him, rubbing his hand at the red mark blooming on Harry's forehead, does Harry learn two things:

One, he wasn't actually hit that hard, and Tommo--or Louis, rather--is just as pretty when Harry is staring at him head-on and,

Two, Louis is the Adidas model he's going to be working with on today's photo shoot.

(or: AU where Harry and Louis are both models, and they decide being friends-with-benefits is a great idea. It isn't.)

☆ heart open, bloodstain on my sleeve by silkbombs (mulberrygrey) 36k

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry admits, one hand coming to rub the back of his neck, “I stared at you for a good while before I finally got the guts to come up to you. You looked so pretty sitting there, with your little ankles and your pencil in your mouth, so enthralling… art in front of art.”

Louis’ not sure what to say, so he just kind of sits there, eyes bugging out as he stares at Harry.

“I mean, like you’re not an object!” Harry rushes out, babbling.

“I just, there’s something about you that’s so captivating, and maybe it’s the way your eyes are like a watercolor painting of the sea, or how delicate your hands look when you draw, but I just wanted to get to know you. It’s not like I pick up random boys at art museums usually, I swear. Not that I’m trying to pick you up! Unless you want to be…God, fuck I’m sorry this is so awkward now. I can go, um, if you want."

--- Or, the one where Harry's the long limbed, gangly, sweetheart who just happens be a high profile art thief who conducts heists for a living and Louis' the loud, pushy art student who just happens to steal his heart.

☆ a king beside you by stylinsoncity 26k

When the aliens invade, the last thing Louis expects is to fall in love.

☆ the boys of summer by afirethatcannotdie 45k

“I mean…we’re gonna have to sneak around anyway, yeah? Like, with that whole rules thing that I guess we’ve decided to ignore. Might make it a little more fun this way.”

AU. In which Louis is a reluctant sports coach, Harry's a fellow counselor who wears tiny yellow shorts, and camp rules say they're forbidden to date.

☆ don’t let the tide come and take me by kiwikero 29k

The aquarium in the lobby has been there as long as Louis can remember, and so has the merman inside. That is, until the day Louis loses his job and decides to set the creature free.

They set off on a road trip to the sea, learning to communicate more and more each day. Their destination is LA, but the closer they get and the more Louis gets to know the merman, the more he dreads having to say goodbye.

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

☆ introduction to dynamics by juliusschmidt 29k

Louis Tomlinson is the outspoken omega in the 'Introduction to Dynamics' course Harry wishes he didn't have to take. He's nearly certain to present as a beta, after all. Things will be simple for him.

☆ saved tonight by objectlesson 31k

Harry is the world's most persistent seduction-baker, a questionable dog-sitter, and Louis's biggest fan. Louis hasn't written in years, is trying to pass loneliness off as cynicism, and absolutely hates his fans. It's probably destiny.

☆ once upon a dream by objectlesson 27k

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

☆ rivers ‘til i reach you by embodied 29k

Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer. AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

☆ life was a song, you came along by rainbowninja167 38k

It's embarrassing how long it takes Louis to recognize his own song. Niall had sung it as a bright, hopeful love song, and that’s honestly how Louis had always assumed it should sound. But this new voice, slow and rough, stripped of any backing instrument, has infused the lyrics with just the tumultuous mix of fear and defiance that Louis can remember so clearly from the night he wrote them. It’s not a comfortable thing, to feel like someone is singing all your secrets back to you.

Louis is a songwriter trapped in a lie that could ruin his best friend's career. Harry owns a record store, distrusts everyone in the music industry on principle, but loves Niall Horan's newest album. A modern retelling of Singin' in the Rain.

☆ learning to eat by photo41 29k

Celebrity chef Louis Tomlinson has a problem. He’s opening his first restaurant in 9 weeks, and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s ‘standoffish’ and ‘rude’ and ‘quick to temper’. Whatever. He ends up saddled with an annoying, happy-go lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. His tv presenter and pop star best friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting Julia Child?!

Kitchen AU where Harry helps Louis re-learn how to eat. (METAPHORICALLY)

note: just to clarify this is NOT an eating disorder fic don’t worry

☆ runner on third by kikikryslee 40k

As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was. “Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it. Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?” “I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?” “Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.” Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?” “Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?” “I’m his teacher.” “You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed. Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year. --- Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

note: there are four fics in this series that total to 60k

☆ roots by cherrystreet 43k

There aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous. He’s spent the past couple of years on and off various stages, filled with screaming fans, all chanting his name, loud and adoring. He’s done countless interviews, some even on live, national television, never faltering over his words, answers meticulously planned out, smooth and steady. He’s signed countless autographs, taken just as many photos, and even when he sat in his label’s studio, waiting to see how high up on the charts his single made it, he didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable. It’s all been unbelievably fun. No, there aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous.

Enter Louis Tomlinson.

☆ once upon a dream by thedeathchamber 33k

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

aka. the Medium/Criminal Minds-inspired AU no one ever asked for.

note: there’s a 24k sequel for this!

☆ the melody you never heard by bananasandboots 30k

It's one last adventure. One last chance to be young and carefree. One final weekend before they take up their internships, their corporate positions, before they enter the real world, fresh out of university. Niall's his best mate. Liam's been there for him since they were lost, little freshmen, trying to find their ways through an overwhelming first year. Harry can't disappoint them, even if it means enduring four days with Louis.

Louis, who he does share a history with, a history he's never told anyone about, not even Niall, a history he hasn't brought up in three years because it's stupid and embarrassing and confusing.

Or, the one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

☆ born to make you happy by objectlesson 26k

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

note: i literally had to take a break and reread this cause i love it so much

☆ close to nowhere by angelichl 35k

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

☆ adrenaline by reveries_passions 38k

“Harry Styles,” Nameless Boy who now has a name says. Louis is too busy having an internal crisis to realize the boy has just introduced himself as Harry Styles. Harry Styles, only son of Des Styles, PhD, Dean of Harvard Medical School. Harry Styles, known by everyone and their grandmother. Harry Styles, star rower. Harry Styles, youngest enrolled student in graduate school at Harvard University. Oh my god, Louis thinks, mortified. I just slept with Harry Styles. As he reaches out tentatively to shake the boy’s hand, another thought hits him. Oh my god. Harry Styles is gay.

louis tomlinson, college dropout, up and coming dj, and gay activist, is the notorious owner of exclusive underground gay club, adrenaline.

harry styles, med student by day, partier by night, child prodigy and seemingly heterosexual son of harvard professors, is the youngest and arguably the smartest student at harvard medical school.

or: a one night stand wasn't supposed to become the greatest love story of the 21st century.

☆ bloodsport by tofiveohfive 40k

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—”

Louis stops when he hears a chuckle.

He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation.

“‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

☆ the haunting of louis tomlinson helloamhere 31k

“I'm not afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

Every single magnet unstuck itself from the fridge and fell to the floor in a clattering cascade.

“I'm only a little afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

*** OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

☆ can i not like you for a while? by larryshares 43k

louis tomlinson is awful. harry is just as difficult, and they're both terrible to each other. it makes being in the same acapella group together quite complicated.

☆ delight in masques by kassio 28k

Popstar Louis Tomlinson has been pulling one over on the mortals for years. In the five years since he put on a human illusion and tried out for the X Factor, none of them have realised that he’s one of the Fair Folk – a cat shapeshifter, to be precise – and he’d like to keep it that way.

When he returns to the X Factor as a guest judge, the last thing he expects is for some half-Siren fool to use magic on the judges. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Harry Styles does. Now Louis has to track down some rogue changeling before he exposes them all. Even worse? Apparently, Harry doesn’t even know what he is.

(An urban fantasy adventure, set in the world of - but not crossing over with - the October Daye book series. No need to be familiar with those books; I just want to give credit where it's due on a lot of the worldbuilding.)

☆ no love like your love by rearviewdreamer 43k

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

note: i love vegan harry styles

☆ for neither never nor ever by fairytalelights 29k

Then Harry looked down. A newspaper was on the steps in front of him, looking new, like it had only just gotten delivered but no one had bothered to carry it inside yet. That, in itself, wasn't unusual. The unusual thing was the headline, Chernobyl - Half a Year Later, and the date in the corner. 5th November 1986. He looked up to stare at the girl in the doorway one last time, before he did the only logical thing his body knew how to do in this situation. He bolted.

or, the one where Harry travels through time and has to come to terms with losing everything he's ever known. Louis might be the only thing that feels real.

☆ worth dying for by whoknows 45k

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

☆ listen to your heart by lovelarry10 35k

Are you kidding me right now?

I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.

Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?

You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…

*****

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

☆ another day gettin’ into trouble by whoknows 26k

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

☆ all the right moves by cherrystreet 32k

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

☆ play the odds by alivingfire 26k

Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis.

Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend.

Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

#fic rec #mine #larry stylinson #one direction #apparently i really love objectlesson #cause they have fics on every list i think #30 of these!#fic masterpost

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0kayblue · 5 years

Text

A Peace Offering

Summary: You’ve graduated from Hawkins High and summer has officially begun, bringing new beginnings with it. You’re focused on turning over a new leaf and becoming an actual adult, putting your Queen of Hawkins High title behind you.

So far it’s turned out in your favor. You’ve got a job, your parents almost off your back about college, and a best friend who works for the ice cream shop up stairs.

Adulthood is proving itself to be pretty fruitful, but one day when you go to visit your best friend, Robin, you cross paths with the former King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. You and Steve were most definitely not strangers but you wished you were as memories flood both yours and Steve’s minds

Word count: 10k

Notes: Anything written in italics is a memory. It is either a memory from you, Robin, or Steve. I understand how that can be pretty straight forward as you read, but the groundwork for this piece is the memories.

Character Relations: Robin x reader (best friend), Steve x reader (romantic interest), Billy x reader (close acquaintance)

A/N: Hi! This isn’t the first imagine I’ve ever written, but it is the first Stranger Things centered one. It’s also one of the first imagines I’ve ever even posted. I really enjoyed writing this and I also feel a little accomplished, lol. There might be a part two? I haven’t decided if I really want to dive deeply into this or not yet. Anyway, if you read thank you so much! Critiques and comments are welcomed with open arms!

WARNINGS: Cursing, lots of cursing. Fluff? Angst? A mix of emotions.

……………

As you flashed an obviously fake smile at the dusty blonde man who “complimented” you on your ruby red lipstick, you felt the urge to jump across the table and strangle him.

“Well, I thank you. It’s a new shade I’ve decided to try out. Now, is that all I can grab for ya?” You said with a tone too sweet to indicate how venomous it actually was. The fake twang seemed to echo in your head and you wondered how anyone with a natural accent could handle the sound of their own voice.

“Ah, no thank you dear. I’m afraid that’ll be it.” He smirked and you simply nodded as you turned and walked up to the diner window. Your cheery facade fading as you glared at the cook behind the open order window.

Sal, the cook, chuckled as he analyzed how upset you were starting to get. You weren’t a stranger to the irritation you felt every time you stepped foot in this damn diner.

You clipped the order onto one of clothespins and let out a deep sigh as you rested your head on the cool smooth steel counter. Sal just smiled as he threw a hamburger patty on the grill. You looked up at him and he just continued to chuckle.

“Y’know I think you should drop that fake twang, you might be less miserable.” Sal was a bigger built man, he reminded you of your father, just bald.

“I might be less miserable if I didn’t have to wear scratchy outdated themed clothes that do nothing but irritate the irritable.” You huffed out laying your head flat on the counter.

“Mhm.” He just groaned out. “Only way you are getting rid of that poodle skirt is if you quit.” You groaned in defeat knowing quitting was not an option.

“Then it’s empty pockets.” You said as you stood up straight, the snickering of table five being overheard. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“I’m serious, kid. I don’t know why you are here. You should be enjoying your summer and going to college in the fall. You’re smart enough for it.” You rolled your eyes.

College seemed to be the only thing that people wanted out of you. A nice college education and maybe you could make something out of yourself. You couldn’t help but scoff and give Sal a look of distaste.

“I’ve been over this with you. And my parents. And my grandparents. And basically everyone. I don’t want to go, at least not yet. I want the experience of working first.” This wasn’t an exact lie per say, it was more of a beefed up truth. You didn’t want to go back into the school system mainly because it just made you feel like shit, and you believed knowing all sides is better than just one. So an honest job was not only a way to get experience and out of college pressure, but to also to hold onto to this fleeting feeling of youth.

“Besides, this is also to fund potential college endeavors.” You smiled as he placed two plated burgers on the counter in front of you.

“Yeah, right. You better take this to table five so you can take your break.” You rolled your eyes as you picked up the plates and walked over to table five with a painful fake smile.

“One double cheeseburger with fries and a single hamburger with extra ketchup and fries.” You sat the plates in front of the correct recipients of their order. “Is there anything else I can get ya? Refills, maybe a milkshake?”

“A strawberry milkshake, but only if we can share, doll face.” You looked at the black haired man as the blonde across from him stifled a laugh. You bit your inner lip taking a deep breath and tried not to break your smile.

“So you won’t be needing anything else. Wonderful.” You reached into your apron pocket and pulled out your order book. You ripped out their order and lightly slammed it on there table. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to check you out due to the fact that my break is about to start, so just take your receipt up to the register and Sal will check ya out.”

The black haired man sent a glare but quickly recomposed himself with a smirk. “No problem, doll. A milkshake tomorrow, then?” You unwillingly bit your tongue and just smiled.

“We’ll see.” You said and turned. You tried to not stomp as you walked back and pushed open the kitchen door, but it didn’t work. You could hear them laughing as you yanked your punch card off the wall.

“Don’t let them get ya.” Sal said as you went ahead and punched your time card into the machine signaling you were officially off the clock. You yanked off your apron and threw it on the clean counter by the freezer.

“Yeah, uh huh, I’m headed to Scoops. You want me to bring you back anything?” You said as you took your hair out of that headache inducing high ponytail. As you fluffed your hair out you took a deep breath and exhaled, clearly exhausted from working the morning and afternoon shifts.

“No thank you. Watching my figure.” You chuckled as you walked past him patting him on the back.

“Suit yourself.” You said as you walked out into the nearly dead mall. You figured the heat index was keeping everyone either inside or at the pool, but you honestly didn’t expect the mall to look this empty. It was weird to only have to walk past people and not forcefully push your way past.

Starcourt was Hawkins newest addition and it’s busiest. Which was sort of sad as you saw local businesses close one by one. You overheard of a scheduled protest to take place on the lawn of City Hall, but other than that, nothing was really being done to help savage Hawkin’s local flare. You weren't doing much to help it either, I mean hell, you worked for Starcourt. There wasn’t anything you could really do, you tried to get a job down main street, but alas no one would hire you. Mainly because they couldn’t afford to pay you for any work you might actually stumble upon.

So, naturally, you ended up working in Prime Time 50s Diner on the first floor right across from Hot Dog On A Stick. Which was just as depressing as it sounded. Hot Dog On A Stick was busier than the diner nine times out of ten and you legitimately thought about moving across the way just for something more to do.

As you stepped on the escalator you spotted the bright flashing bulbs of the big Scoops Ahoy sign. You enjoyed ice cream and even though you had ice cream at your job you couldn’t resist the getaway from the smell of greasy cheeseburgers and the constant repeat of the same old songs. You walked your way into Scoops Ahoy glancing at the few people eating ice cream inside. No employee in sight as you approached the front counter. You smirked and began to ring the front bell in front of the register rather obnoxiously. You loved this stupid little bell it was a great way to get under Robin’s skin. You stopped ringing the bell and just stood there for a split second and rang it one more time. You snickered and headed over to look at the ice cream flavors they had today. Contemplating on trying something new or not, you wouldn’t, but it was always nice to look.

Your ears perked up as you heard shuffling to the door, a thud, and then a sliding window open.

“Ahoy!” Robin said with a tone of annoyance in her voice. Her face sarcastically fell realizing it was just you and you smiled. A slight smirk found her face when you giggled at her.

“Ahoy there!” You said as you lazily gave her a two finger salute. You both let out a laugh and she walked around and met you on the other side of the counter.

“What are you up to?” She asked and you just shrugged.

“Same old, same old.” You smirked as you saw Robin grab your favorite flavor. “You know I could’ve changed my mind, I could’ve wanted the U.S.S. Butterscotch.”

“As if.” Robin said as she rolled her eyes. You always knew of Robin, you, of course, went to high school together and knew each other through passing. But you never were friends. You simply just knew of each other and that was that, until one day during your lunch break you guys started talking.

The food court was packed and almost every seat was filled, except for two right across from each other. You sat on one side and Robin sat across from you on the other side. You started friendly conversation not expecting much of anything to come from it.

“So, you work at the 50s place?” She asked trying to keep her gaze towards you limited. You wondered what she actually thought of you. You hoped that you never did anything to offend or hurt her in high school because she was proving to be pretty cool and not just the band geek you originally thought.

“Yeah.” You said with a friendly smile, wondering how much she remembered of you from high school.

You were the Queen of Hawkins and the ruthless truth rang down the halls as you called people out on their bullshit. If they started something you would sure as hell would end it. Not in any physically violent way, but words do cut like knives.

You understood that, but you couldn’t stop yourself once the thought entered your brain. People liked seeing you be a bitch, so you were a bitch. For six hours a day five days a week, you were Queen of Hawkins High, the Bitch of Indy, not (Y/N).

“You should stop by, it’ll be on me.” You smiled honestly wanting to give Robin a chance. You were tired of being lonely and pretending. You wanted a friend, an actual friend, something you haven’t had in a long time. It was time to be an adult.

Robin’s head shot up as her eyes meet with yours. There was some sort of gleam in her eyes, like she was finally able to hang out with the popular girl. Your eyes met hers with a shared excitement.

Now, this was something new and you planned to just let the walls you built crumble a bit and you were genuinely excited. High school was over and you could be who you wanted to be, who you should have been.

“Maybe tomorrow, lunch?” You questioned and she nodded. You stood up and apologized due to the fact your break was over. “Great. I have to get going. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.” Robin said with a smirk as she returned to her Chinese food.

The next day she met you for lunch and you gave being open a chance. You didn’t expect Robin to stay after that, but she did. She put up with your stubbornness and your tendencies to shut down, and actually stuck around and helped you out of that hole you were stuck in for so long.

You told each other everything and you both knew everything about each other. Even Robin’s biggest secret which was actually pretty funny because you thought she was dying when she very mysteriously “had something she needed to tell you before your friendship could continue”.

“Seriously? That’s it?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” She said shakily and she was so nervous. “I’m a lesbian and I understand if that’s a problem and you don’t want to be friends-.”

“Robin.” You cut her off abruptly. “I thought you were dying. Dying. You being gay doesn’t matter to me. As long as you are happy I will always support you. You are my best friend and I have no idea where I’d be without you.” You pulled her into a hug, holding back tears. Robin let a few slip, but would never admit it. As you parted you put your hands on her shoulders.

“Movie night?” You asked smiling.

“Movie night.” She affirmed.

“What are you up to tonight?” You asked her.

“Not much of anything. Movie night?” She asked as she handed you ice cream and as you took it you nodded. You shoved money into the tip jar knowing that she wouldn’t take it. She rolled her eyes and you heard another thud from the back. You raised an eyebrow and tried to glance around her. She quickly fidgeted so you couldn’t take a peak, not that you’d be able to see into the break room that was down the hall.

“What is going on back there? Did they finally hire some help?”

“Just some shelf assembly.” Robin said and you raised an eyebrow quizzically. What type of shelf was being put together? What idiot was assembling it? “But, yeah they finally hired help. What movies are you thinking of for tonight? I was thinking maybe a classic or something along those lines.” She tried to gently ease the conversation away from the noise that came from the back. You just shrugged.

“Anything works tonight.” You said taking a lick from the ice cream cone as you studied Robin. She’s hiding something and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Robin knew something you didn’t. “Who is your new co-worker? It isn’t Tommy is it?” You stifled a laugh picturing Tommy in the sailor uniform. You leaned against the counter continuing to eat your ice cream.

“Ah ha, no. So, about this movie how do you feel about Dargonslayer, I heard-.”

“So you are avoiding the co-worker conversation.” You cut her off and grinned. “Do I know them? Is it Tammy? C’mon just tell me-.” You went to finish but was cut off by the loudest thud thus far.

All conversation stopped in Scoops Ahoy as you and Robin made desperate eye contact before you both ran into the back. As you both took a sharp turn into the break room your eyes locked with the complete and utter idiot who was laying underneath the poorly constructed steel shelf.

“Harrington?” You spat, your actions not correlating with your wicked tone as you went to pull the shelf back onto its four legs.

“(Y/L/N)?” He questioned his eyes not leaving you as he pushed the shelf off of him as you pulled it up. The shelf wasn’t completed therefore it wasn’t that heavy but it was in fact tall. When you had it back and up straight you crossed your arms as Robin gave Steve a helping hand up.

You crossed your arms and glared at him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he dusted himself off. Robin chewed the inside of her cheek knowing it was only a matter of time before you and Steve crossed paths.

“Why are you failing to assemble a simple shelf?” You questioned and he mocked you. You could cut the tension in the room it was so thick.

“Ha, well I think it’s time for you to scurry out of here. Besides you aren’t supposed to back here anyways..” Robin said with a clap trying to relive some of that bottled up tension, being no stranger to the rocky relationship you and Steve had.

“Yeah, Scoops Ahoy employees only.” Steve said as he went back to the shelf and its instructions. Steve wanted to continue to look at you, but knew it was best to turn away.

“Right.” You said not wanting to hang around anyway.

“Right.” He said as he picked up a screw driver.

“I’ll see you tonight, Robin. 7 as usual.” You said as you left. You took a lick of your ice cream cone and shuttered. It no longer tasted as sweet nor as refreshing as it usually did. You couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was the newest Scoops Ahoy employee. Throwing the ice cream in the trash you left Scoops Ahoy with mixed emotions.

Robin went to call after you but decided to let it go. She glared at Steve and Steve just looked back at her somewhat confused.

“What did I do? Are you guys friends?” Steve asked as he put the last screw into the shelf to make it sturdy. He was clearly disgruntled, something Robin hasn’t really seen on Steve. He was just fine not too long ago, going on about how Dustin was to be coming back from camp soon.

“What is with you two? You guys have been bickering back and forth, since, well the whole King and Queen thing started.” Robin said as she began to help Steve by putting boxes of plastic utensils on the newly constructed shelf. You never told Robin the real reason you and Steve were at each other's throat, she asked one time, but didn’t get anywhere.

“Some people just don’t get along.” Steve grunted, a hint of sadness lingering. It was out of character, well as far as Robin was concerned, to see Steve get so upset so fast. Not to mention stay upset about something.

“Something has to have happened. I believe you guys were fairly close in middle school.” Robin said and Steve just sighed.

“Harrington!” You yelled from the end of the middle school hallway as kids tried to rush past you and out the school.

“(Y/L/N)!” Steve yelled back as he shut his locker and lightly jogged down to the end of the hall to meet you. As he met you with a smile you both walked out of the school and continued on the way down to the end of the street. You and Steve both walked home and went in the same general direction, so it just made sense to Steve for you both to just walk together. Thus, a friendship was born.

“Did you see Mrs. Karly today? What was the deal with those glasses? They made her look like an owl.” He said and you both laughed picturing the big bright orange circular glasses on Mr. Karly’s thin and brittle face.

“Well it was nothing compared to Carol’s new braces.” You chuckled smiling at Steve as both your laughter died down.

Once you guys where further away from the school you sighed and your head fell. Steve could sense that something wasn’t quite right with you and he playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he could feel a type of fear grow in his stomach.

“It’s nothing really. I think I’m just worrying for no reason…Maybe?” You questioned facing him.

“Spill the beans, (Y/N).” He said and you just sighed.

“Do you think we will still be friends, Steve. In high school? I mean we only have one more semester of middle school, one, and then a new cycle of everything begins.” You let the words fall from your mouth as you tugged on your back pack straps.

Steve looked at you baffled wondering why you would think he’d leave you. Steve really liked you, really liked you. You were funny, and honest, and not to mention very pretty. What would bring him to not have you around him in the slightest had to end.

“Of course we will.” He said in a stern tone unsure of how to exactly convince you he didn’t want to be anywhere you weren't. You laughed and the way he looked at you with such seriousness made your checks warm.

“Yeah, of course, we will.” You said with a smile as you looked at Steve. He coughed and looked away as a hand found the back of his neck, his body temperature rising causing him to flush red. You laughed and punched him in the shoulder and you both just died of laughter.

When you both parted ways that night to your proper houses, you both had a lot to think about.

“Just forget about it.” Steve said, clearly cranky and an out of place redness to his face. “She’s your friend, why don’t you ask her.”

“After how upset you just made her, with only saying, what, eleven words in total to her. I’m clearly afraid to ask her anything.” Robin and Steve finished putting the multiple boxes from the floor onto the shelves. “So, go on, what exactly happened? High school is over, right?” Steve rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair from the break room table and sat down. Steve hasn’t really talked about you since his last rant about you to Nancy Wheeler.

“I just don’t understand! It’s like she’s lost her goddamn mind! What is she thinking getting between Carol and Tommy like that?” Steve exclaimed to Nancy. Nancy was listening to Steve, but her mind was also going elsewhere with thoughts of Barb’s parents and how her and Steve had to cancel dinner, yet again. “She’s not stupid, Nance. She has to know that Carol isn’t taking this lightly.” Steve said with frustration as he ran his hand through his hair. Nancy just nodded making a noise of affirmation.

Steve was trying to focus on the road and wrap his head around your actions and why all of a sudden you chose to mess around with Tommy. Tommy, of all people, Tommy. Really? It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his blood boil at just the thought of Tommy.

He was a giant prick! If anyone knew that, you did! You constantly reprimanded Tommy. He couldn’t believe it when he first overheard some people in the hallway gossiping about it. You hated Tommy, you have since fifth grade. Tommy! Who’s next, that new guy, Billy? Steve’s hand moved from his hair as he put it out of the car window. Steve grunted as subconsciously his foot put more weight on the gas.

Why are you fucking around and acting like a child? Is it because he hasn’t apologized for what he said at that party junior year? Is it because you needed some type of drama? What ever happened to Michael McEvers? Were you just lonely and would just take anyone? What was he chopped liver?!

“Steve!” Nancy shouted and Steve brought his full attention back to the road and the stop sign fast approaching. Steve’s foot slammed on the break as he watched the blue Camaro race past their four way stop. Steve and Nancy both caught their breath and looked at each other. Steve took a deep breath and just slammed his hands against the steering wheel. Nancy, finally pulled out of her own thoughts of guilt began to comfort Steve as he laid his head against the steering wheel and sighed.

Somehow, he managed to make it through a lecture from his father this morning, starting yet another college application, a rough basketball practice with Billy joining the team, and a deep conversation with Nancy that nearly avoided a break up. And this, this was just the icing on the cake. Steve’s eyes started to water.

“Steve, honey, it’s okay.” Nancy’s brows furrowed as she cooed and rubbed Steve’s back.

“She just-. I just-.” Steve began but kept getting cut off by his own sobs. “I should’ve stuck around. I shouldn’t have blown her off. I kept meaning to call. I keep meaning to show up at her door and talk with her. I should’ve been there for (Y/N), Nancy. Why wasn’t I there?” Steve sat up and put the car in park. “O-Oh yeah, that’s right I was too busy being an absolute a-ass.” Steve sniffed trying to pull it together. Nancy leaned against Steve’s shoulder and ran her hand up and down his arm.

“Steve, things happen. People get busy, especially after what we just went through. You can’t let yourself be responsible for everyone. It’s okay.” Nancy said as she placed a kiss on his cheek and genuinely felt bad for Steve. Steve just sighed out a chuckle and shook his head slowly. He could’ve fixed things with you. Steve took another big sniff and without even thinking he just started speaking.

“I just miss (Y/N), so much, Nance. If I could go back and get her, I would. In a heartbeat.” Steve rubbed his red and irritated eyes and his mind just focused on you.

They sat there as Nancy seriously began to contemplate on her and Steve’s relationship, and the relationships they didn’t take.

Steve regretfully looked at Robin as she sat on the edge of her seat. Steve sighed and took a deep breath.

“We just got into a fight. That’s all.”

“You can’t just leave it at that. I need to know the details.” Robin said with a raging curiosity in her mind. Robin knew that you would tell her in your own time, but she wanted to know now. It was hard to admit but Steve’s goofiness was growing on her and the fact that he actually did stuff at Scoops and she wasn’t alone anymore made her life a lot easier. Robin looked furiously at Steve and he just sighed.

“Take a seat.” He said and gestured to the other seat. As Robin took a seat, Steve thought about where to begin. It’s funny how you can recall things in such vivid detail and once someone asks you what happened you can’t find the words to say to describe it.

A laugh escaped both yours and Steve’s lips as you flopped down on the king sized bed that belonged to Tammy Thompson’s parents. You both laid next to each other on the bed. Neither of you were drunk, just a little tipsy. You both had drunk enough just to find each other and sneak off together.

As you stared at the ceiling Steve’s eyes were glued to you. He took in the way your hair fanned out onto the bed and how it looked against the dark purple comforter. He wondered what was going on in that head of yours and how he could work his way in there and take up as much of your attention as he could.

As you rolled your head over to look at him and you had a big goofy smile on your face. A redness started to become present on your cheeks.

“What?” You questioned as you playfully punched him on the shoulder. You focused on blinking as if your eyes were cameras taking pictures of this moment and capturing it so you could put those pictures into a scrapbook.

“You are beautiful, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He said with rose tinted cheeks that he blamed the booze on. He also blamed the booze on this need to be close to you, this need to tell you how wonderful you are, and how he had to be touching you. As his hand laid against yours his eyes studied the way your lips looked, and he couldn’t help but wonder what flavor chapstick they tasted like.

“Shut up, Steve. You’re drunk.” You stated as you snuck a glance at his lips telling yourself not to linger for too long. You couldn’t make that mistake tonight, even though the thought of both your lips synchronized in harmony against each other warmed you to your core.

“What, and you’re not?” Steve asked as he looked into your eyes. You bit your lip, like a tease, and Steve swore on God that you were going to be the death of him. He wanted your body pressed against his, he wanted his hands to roam over every square inch of your body, he needed to know how your lips felt against his. As his thoughts drove him insane he came to the conclusion that tonight, wasn’t the night for that. Not while you both of you were almost off your asses, you deserved better. He wanted to give you better.

You turned on your side as you propped yourself up you began to think about that one conversation you had on that one walk home from school. Your mind quick to distract yourself from the intrusive thoughts of Steve.

“Why didn’t we stay friends, Steve?” You questioned sadly, not exactly wanting to take that road. It was too late now and now you had to know.

“We still are friends.” Steve lied looking up at the ceiling and away from you. Steve couldn’t look at you and lie, he couldn’t handle the way your features settled into disappointment.

“Bullshit. We really aren’t, Steve. This is the first night in, like, forever that we have had an actual fragment of a conversation.” You said exasperated, beginning to get annoyed.

“(Y/N), can we not, can we just-.” You sighed and sat up. As sadness filled the room where drunken laughter once rang out. Steve followed you quickly and reached for your wrist. “Hey. C’mon, (Y/N), what does it matter? We are friends right now. Stay with me.” You yanked your arm away from his gentle grip.

“What does it matter?” You said standing up and Steve sighed. Your heart broke. Steve sat up straight up as he felt the consequences of what he said.

He fucked up, he royally fucked up.

“It matters because I’ve tried calling and everytime I did your mom answered and said you were out. Or that- that you had a friend over to help you study.” You said putting air quotes around the words “out” and “study”.

“I’ve been busy.” Steve said, and he has been. Trying to navigate his way through his feelings and thoughts. Evaluating what he wanted and building a reputation along the way. You just chuckled and Steve stood up annoyed. “Like you haven’t?” He questioned with an edge to his voice. Trying to keep the volume down not wanting anyone to overhear.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned and Steve stood there dumbfounded. You weren’t with him, therefore you had to have been busy.

“You know what it’s supposed to mean. I’ve seen you around with Michael and his crew of football cronies!” His voice raised and stern, any thought of keeping anyone from hearing gone. You let out a sharp laugh. “Which has apparently given you a complex to just go and call anyone out. You yelled at Tommy just this past week.”

“Tommy needed to be yelled at! He was ogling up Barb and Nancy like they were greasy hamburgers fresh off the grill!”

“That’s what Tommy does! He’s harmless!” Steve bickered back.

“So that’s supposed to make it okay?” You questioned raising your brows and looking at him in disbelief.

“What? No, of course not!” You just shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Then why don’t you say anything? Why don’t you call Tommy out on his bullshit? Ever! You just stand there with this look on your face. It’s like you know what you are doing is wrong but you don’t do anything about it! You just stand there with this shit eating grin and it’s not you! It’s not you.” You yelled and Steve was left speechless. He didn’t know what to say and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to say it. Tears were threatening to start to pour, but you just sniffed refusing to start crying.

Steve wanted to apologize. Steve knew you were right. Steve understood that his actions weren’t a true reflection of who he was. He was just lost and the attention he was getting wasn’t something he wanted to give up, yet. So as most things go.

“Not me? (Y/N), you don’t know me! You don’t know shit about me and you can’t stand here and lecture me when you have your own title you don’t even live up too! Queen of Hawkins my ass! You show off this fake face to everyone and feed into their obsession of seeing if they can please you or not. They see this mean character that you mask around as and you love it!” He yelled and you just laughed because you knew he was right to a point.

“Yeah, well, at least they get honesty from me!” You shouted back at him.

“Do they get the complete honest you, though?” Steve asked his voice lowering, selfishly hoping that he was the only one that knew this you. The real you. You stood there refusing to give him the ‘no’ he wanted and you gritted your teeth as you headed for the door. As your hand gripped the door knob you took a deep shaky breath and then exhaled. As you faced Steve with a couple tears leaking out of your eyes. Steve’s demeanor softened and he regretted everything he just said. He went to bring you into a him but stopped as you flinched away from him. You longed for his embrace but you knew it would shatter your already broken pieces. Steve stood frozen, broken, and hesitantly awaiting for you to say something. Anything.

“Like you said, ‘what does it matter’? We all put on these facades and we don’t get hurt. I don’t get hurt.” You said as strongly as you could as you opened the door and began to walk away from the room as quickly as you could without alerting the rest of the party that something had happened in that room. Steve just looked at the empty doorway and his jaw tightened. He paced the length of the bed thinking.

“Shit.” He shouted frustrated with himself. What was he doing? Maybe it wasn’t too late to change. Maybe he could fix things, fix this. Steve took strong strives out the door and he began to scan the hall for you. His pace quickened as he repeated your name.

“(Y/N).” He tried to say audible enough for you to hear over the blaring music as you made a beeline for the stairs.

“(Y/N)! I need-!” Steve was cut off by a sharp hit on his shoulders. It was Tommy.

“You slept with (Y/N)?” He asked with a sinister grin and a light laugh.

“What? No, Tommy I need to get-.” Steve went to begin.

“You dog!” Tommy shouted. “King Steve! King Steve! King Steve!” As Tommy began to chant the whole party started to join in. With their chants getting louder and louder you turned and glared at Steve.

Steve’s heart broke and your glassy eyes told him enough. You stumbled down the stairs and away from the chanting upstairs.

“(Y/N), wait!” Steve shouted as he began to take off after you. The chanting followed Steve down the stairs, Tommy sinsterly lurking behind him. His eyes glued to the back of your head as he tried to get as close as he could to you. He didn’t want to let go, he wanted to fix this.

As you were almost out the door you tripped over the now stained welcome mat and into Michael McEvers arms.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Michael asked concerned pulling you up and you just nodded while trying to dry your eyes and sniffling. Steve was so close to touching you when Michael’s eyes met Steve’s he knew Steve did something. “Get away from her, Harrington!” Michael shouted as he pulled you out into the porch and slammed the door behind you. Steve went to go after you to make things right but Tommy’s hand found Steve’s shoulder holding him back.

“Let the slut go. C’mon we can get you another.” Tommy said wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Maybe it was best that he let you go. He’d only say the wrong things and hurt you even more. He couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t make things right, it was just too late. He had to accept that. Michael was a good guy anyway, he could give you things Steve couldn’t. Steve took a deep breath furrowing his brows as a headache started to form.

“Let’s get you wasted.” Tommy said as he went to go get Steve a drink. Being wasted and feeling as light as air sounded a hell of a lot better than how heavy and broken he felt now.

As Steve finished his brief synopsis of your guys’s argument to Robin, guilt settled in his stomach.

“And you didn’t say anything after that night?”

“No, I figured it was best to leave her be. She didn’t need me anymore. Or at all to be completely honest.” Steve said as the bell from outside rang and he stood up pushing in the chair and working his way to the front. Robin followed him on his heels. He silently thanked whatever customer rang the front bell.

“Are you serious?” She questioned wondering how someone could be so stupid.

“I wasn’t going to waste my breath.” Steve said. He thought about making it up to you countless times. But, one time he called when he really needed you, desperately needed you, you couldn’t get to the phone.

“You are joking?” Robin was astounded with how much of an idiot Steve was being.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” You strained out through a hick-up as you leaned against Robin’s shoulder looking at both of your reflections in the pool. Robin just laughed.

“Let me just waltz up to Tammy Thompson and say, ‘Hey! I really like you and I think you should’ve been gazing into my eyes instead of at that stupid Steve Harrington!’ yeah, you do that and then tell me how well it works for you.” Robin continued to laugh. It was a movie night and for some reason you couldn’t focus on that dumb rom-com you picked. Which lead to you sneaking some beers from your dad's “secret” stash and hiding out in the backyard wasted with Robin. Sitting on the side of the pool with your bare feet in the water and you smiled sadly. Steve, “the hair”, Harrington. King Steve. You snickered at the thought of him and you could almost smell a faint hint of Farrier Fawcett hairspray.

“What made you two go at each other’s throats all the time?” Robin just asked. You looked at her confused.

“You and Steve. You guys were always bickering and it literally made no sense. I mean you were Queen and he was King of Hawkins. Why didn’t you guys run the place together?” You nodded sadly understanding what Robin was saying.

“Yeah, I really liked, Steve. Like I mean I liked him.” You said with an emphasis on “liked”, but it was so much more than the simple like.

“Oh.” Robin said shortly understanding fully well how that stuff works.

“But then he turned into ass hat McAsserton and everything changed. He just pissed me off so much, and it wasn't him, like, I know Steve Harrington. He is such a goof and he was being someone I knew, I knew he wasn’t and I just couldn’t stand it. He’s such an-.”

“He’s changed, y’know.” Robin cut you off. “He’s lonely.” Steve had just hired in at Scoops Ahoy and Robin could tell that something had changed and for the better. You scoffed and slid off of her shoulder as you laid on the wood deck connected to the above ground pool.

“Okay.” You snorted refusing to get your hopes up.

“If you could change why couldn’t he?” Robin stated as she leaned back to joining you. “Think about it.” Robin was right as she usually was. You took a deep breath and thought about that night. You should talk to him. You should go see him. You should be there. Then maybe this weight on your chest would be gone. This summer you would finally patch things up with Steve Harrington once and for all. A creed you pushed aside in the morning once the hangover was gone.

“Well, I think you could do better than Tammy anyway.” You said as you turned your head and looked at her with a smile.

“You think?” Robin asked knowing what you were doing, but she just let it be. She wasn’t going to force you to talk about anything you didn’t want to talk about.

“Oh my god, definitely, Robin.” You both laughed as your thoughts wondered about Steve.

“Don’t you miss her?” Robin asked, her tone giving away her confusion.

“Of course I miss her, Robin.” Steve said in a matter of fact tone. “What can I get for you?” Steve asked as he pulled out his ice cream scoop from it’s holster around his waist. He twirled it in his hand as the old lady examined the flavors.

“You do understand that all of this could be solved by just talking to her. Right?” Robin said with her hands on her hips and a serious look in her eyes.

“Gee, I never thought of that.” Steve said with an airy laugh.

“How about the mint chocolate chip?” The lady said squinting trying to figure out who exactly she was talking to.

“You could have fooled me, Steve.” Steve made a ‘tsk’ sound as he shook his head and began scooping up some ice cream.

“It’s a lot easier said than done when you have that much history with someone, especially someone as stubborn as her. Also, she could come to me, y’know.” Steve said putting the ice cream into a sugar cone and taking it down to the register handing it to the old lady not even bothering to ring her up. “It’s on the house.” Steve said frustrated, what if you didn’t want him around anyway.

“Why thank you, Miss.” She said taking it and hobiling away. Robin stifled a laugh as Steve threw his hands in the air out of frustration. Today has not been his day.

“Steve.” Robin said straightening up bringing her focus back to the matter at hand. “Do you honestly think the Queen of Hawkins would go to you first? Especially when she was in the height of her high school career? Honestly? Especially after the whole school branded her a slut after that party. Which you totally should have done something about, by the way. Jumping from you to Michael when she didn’t even have a thing with either of you.” Steve stood up straight.

“She didn’t have a thing with Michael? They were dating, holding hands in the hall and everything.” Steve said feeling completely and utterly confused.

“No, dingus. Michael’s-. (Y/N) fake dated him to keep it from getting out that him and Tyler were, well,-.” Robin said not exactly knowing how to phrase what she was saying. She tried to be cautious not knowing how Steve would take the news that Michael McEvers was totally gay. “A thing.” She said with little fear while she scanned Scoops Ahoy with her prefils hoping the two people there weren’t catching on.

“Michael McEvers?” Steve questioned wondering how he didn’t pick up on it. Then again he could’ve sworn Jonathan Byers was gay, but he was currently seriously invoved with Nancy. “Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asked Robin with an eyebrow raised.

“(Y/N) told me.” Robin said quick to get any suspicious thoughts about herself away from the conversation.

“Shit.” Steve mumbled.

“Y’know I think that pale yellow looks great on you, Mike.” You said as you straightened up Michael’s cardigan.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Of course.” You said as you leaned against the lockers. “Tyler doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Michael shut his locker as he awkwardly took your hand.

“Thank you, for all this.” Michael said quietly and you just smiled.

“Please don’t mention it.” You smiled softly as you both walked down the hall.

“Do you want to go to the movies tonight? Tyler will meet us there.”

“Yeah. Of course.” You said and Michael continued to talk. As you and Michael walked to Algebra you both passed Nancy and Steve. Yours and Steve’s eyes locked, a sadness lingering over the noisy hall. As you passed you looked straight ahead while Steve looked back.

“Steve?” Nancy questioned.

“Uh huh.” Steve said and looked back at Nancy.

“You have basketball tonight, right?”

“Right.” Steve said as he let go of Nancy’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“So a double cheeseburger with a side of onion rings and a large coke to go.” You read off the order to Billy while simultaneously ringing it up.

“You got it, Queen.” Billy said with a wink and you rolled your eyes. Billy had a fascination with you and he couldn’t just place his finger on what made you so different. He liked your attitude and he liked the way you handled yourself.

You and Billy never got together, together, and maybe that’s why he liked you, you weren't throwing yourself at his feet.

Usually when Billy was around you were open and gentle with him, because you could tell he was dealing with something that he couldn’t handle. You wanted Billy to know if, or when, he wanted to talk that you were here.

“What’s the matter, doll?” Billy asked before he could even think about why he even asked.

“Nothing, Billy.” You sighed as you sent the order to Sal. The diner still as empty as it was an hour ago.

“C’mon. I haven’t seen you this frustrated since I almost T-boned Harrington’s car.” Billy laughed.

“That wasn’t funny, he and Nancy could’ve really gotten hurt. Not to mention we could’ve really gotten hurt.” You said leaning against the counter facing him.

“It was an adrenaline trip and you can’t deny that. Almost had you in my lap.” He laughed and you smirked.

“You and I remember that drive very differently then.” You laughed and crossed your arms. Billy smirked trying to think of something that might cheer you up. Maybe keep that smile around.

“Do you remember that Halloween party? Do you remember Tommy being shit faced and his face just colliding with the porch cement out back. He always was a giant prick.” Billy laughed and you did to. You didn’t go to that Halloween party but you had heard about it. You were appreciating what Billy was trying to do so you just went along with it nodding and laughing.

“Mom! Get the phone, please! I’m kind of busy!” You yelled as the phone rang off the hook and you tried to paint your nails with your non dominant hand and flip a page in your magazine at the same time. The last thing you wanted to do was answer the phone to a drunk sobbing Carol asking why you weren’t at this party to comfort her while Tommy hit on anything with a pulse. Steve was also there with Nancy and you didn’t feel like feeling like shit for once. You didn’t want to be jealous of Nancy anymore. You didn’t want to see them. As the phone stopped ringing, your mom obviously not grabbing it, you just sighed. Finally, just some time by yourself. Nice and quiet-. Your thoughts suddenly interrupted by the phone ringing again.

“Mom!” You yelled as your aggravation got the better of you.

“Hold on!” Your mom yelled from downstairs as she shut the door on a couple of trick or treaters in ghostbuster costumes. As she sauntered her way over to the phone she picked it up with a friendly hello.

“The (Y/L/N) residents, (Y/M/N) speaking.”

“H-Hey, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I-It’s a- um Steve. Is (Y/N) around by any chance?” Steve choked out through tears.

“Steve Harrington?” Your mom questioned with an edge to her voice.

“Uh,-.” Steve coughed. “Yeah, Steve Harrington.” He said his voice breaking while he was hoping to God you were home. Your mom chewed the inside of her cheek as she contemplated her next few words as wisely as she could. She knew Steve and she knew that he sent you into multiple whirl winds of consent confusion.

“Mr. Harrington, if you know what is good for you, you’d leave (Y/N) alone and you wouldn’t dare to call this number again.” She threatened and hung up the phone.

Steve on the other end was a mess of tears while his heart felt like a black hole. Steve nodded swallowing back tears. His house was empty, it was just him and the mind numbing silence.

You got up from your desk and went down the stairs to see your mom glaring at the telephone and you were completely bewildered by her strange and unusual attitude. The doorbell rang and as you went to the kitchen she went towards the door.

What could that phone call possibly be about to make your mother's whole attitude change on a dime.

“One double cheeseburger with side onion rings to go!” Sal shouted and as you picked up the to go bag and coke you glanced at the clock. Only 30 minutes left to your shift then Jessica comes in to replace you.

“Well, Billy here you go.” You said as you handed Billy his to go bag of grease.

“(Y/N), if you need a time out, you know my number.” Billy said with a sly smile. His intentions were truly pure, maybe Billy was also growing old of the part he used to play. You smiled at him not breaking eye contact.

“I know, Billy. I know.” you said as Billy completely took the bag and gave you a cheeky wink.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” He said as he turned and left.

“Whatever you say, Billy.” You chuckled and waved. As you watched him leave you heard Sal whistle.

“What?” You snapped as you had a light glare targeted at him.

“You two would be cute together, that’s all.” You rolled your eyes, unfortunately a lover wasn’t on the agenda for you. But, when did your agenda ever go as planned?

Steve was on the escalator on his way down to the first floor to grab himself and Robin a corn dog as a little snack that wasn’t ice cream. On his way over there he peered into the diner and saw Billy leaving. Steve just scoffed as he hopped off the elevator peering through the big open entrance of the diner catching glimpses of you. As he headed towards Hot Dog On A Stick he stopped. He could see your full frame as you laughed at something someone must’ve said. As he leaned against the pillar near him he examined how when you laughed your hand found your mouth. Steve chuckled as his cheeks grew pink and his stomach flipped excitedly.

He wanted to make things better and that’s all he’s been able to think about since hearing your voice earlier. Since he saw you earlier.

Steve didn’t think he’d ever even see you again. He thought for sure you’d be packed up and out on your own, away from Hawkins, away from him. College bound with the world at your feet. Maybe it was a sign? Maybe it was time. It’s been so long, too long. A peace offering. He needed a peace offering. His brain told him to move, to get going. To use this excitement that was coursing through his veins to pull something together. But his body didn’t move, instead he continued to lean against that pillar and look at you. Just look at you and the way when you really started to laugh you you would throw your head back. He just wanted to look at you for a while longer.

“I swear you just want me to leave.” You said as your laughter died down. You glanced out into the mall and your eyes unexpectedly locked with Steve’s. A light smile on your face as Steve quickly looked away and took off towards Hot Dog On A Stick. You sighed, just talk to him. He wasn’t going to bite, quit being stubborn and grow up.

“Hey, Sal, I’ll be right back. I’ve got something I have to do real quick.” You said and began to lightly jog out of the restaurant and catch up with Steve.

“Hey. Hey!” Sal called and you just waved. Sal rolled his eyes as your eyes locked on the back of Steve’s head. Enough is enough. You are an adult now. You can pick up after yourself and mend relationships. As you finally caught up to Steve and stood behind him in line, and you were about to touch his shoulder to get his attention when all of that confidence left and was replaced with doubt. What if he was still mad? What are you doing? He should be coming to you. He’s the one that fucked up, not you. Turn around and go back.

“I can help you over here, ma’am.” Said a spunky looking teenage girl in a bright and obnoxious primary colored uniform. She pulled you out of your thoughts causing Steve to glance behind him.

“I, uh-.” You began but was cut off by Steve.

“She’s with me.” Steve said quickly, praying that you actually were with him. If you said yes it would make it easier to explain the apology corn dog, if not he’d probably get cold feet and give not only your corn dog to Robin, but his own.

“Uh, um, yeah.” You said awkwardly and he smiled letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I’m with him.” So cold feet weren’t an option. Steve had to go through with this long over do make up conversation. You smiled and the girl at the other register just rolled her eyes.

“Three corn dogs.” Said a man in front of Steve holding them between his fingers. Steve broke eye contact with you, turned, and grabbed the corn dogs.

“Thanks.” He said with a smile and handed over some cash. “Keep the change.” Steve spit out quickly as he turned back to you.

“Let’s go for a walk.” You stated not giving Steve the option to turn you down.

“Definitely.” As you both walked out into the nearly empty food court you held your hands behind your back. How did this work? How do you talk to someone you know so well, but were mere strangers with.

“This.” Steve said holding out a corn dog. “This is for you. If you want it of course. I wanted to get you one so we could start talking. Well, I could start talking to you, make it less awkward and maybe soften you up a bit.” Steve let out an awkward laugh and you just smiled. “I don’t even know if you really like corn dogs. I know you used to. I remember when we went to the state fair and you got one that was the size of your head. You said it was good, but people's taste buds change. I guess I should’ve gone with candy, or maybe flowers. I should’ve thought this out-.”

“Steve, you’re beginning to ramble.” You said taking the corn dog. Only Steve Harrington, only Steve Harrington.

“Right, so.” He said before starting in on his corn dog. God, this was hard. You both walked in an awkwardly comfortable silence and before too long Steve’s corn dog was gone. Steve’s always been a nervous eater, it was quite an adorable little quirk he had. You took a bite of your corn dog and held the corn dog closer to him, signaling you’d share yours with him.

“This is a bit weird.” You said as Steve leaned and took a bite of your corn dog. He didn’t say anything but he did agree. It’s been almost two years since you didn’t snap at him the first time you saw him and he didn’t run away. You took another bite of your corn dog and then passed it back to Steve.

“Y’know, I think the sailor uniform fits you, it’s kind of cute.” You laughed and Steve almost choked.

“S-Seriously?” He laughed and you couldn’t wipe the grin from your face.

“Seriously.” You said with a nod as you guys continued to walk down through the food court. No idea where you were going or how much time has passed. It felt like you’ve been walking for hours, both your corn dogs gone and Robin’s getting cold. When in reality it was only mere minutes since you’ve left the register at Hot Dog On A Stick. You caught a glimpse of Jessica walking into the diner.

“Steve, I, uh, I’ve got to go. Maybe-.” You started trying to break away from this until you had yourself together and you could put together what you wanted to say and how you wanted to say it.

“I’m sorry.” Steve blurted out. He had to say this before you left. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve called. I was scared you wouldn’t want to listen to me. I’m still afraid you don’t want to listen to me. I should’ve came around, I just. I thought I was-. I’m a schmuck. I was a real asshole and I’m so sorry. You looked like you had everything figured out. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with me. I tried calling one time and your mom answered, she told me to leave you alone. I mean, I couldn’t blame her, in fact I could even agree with her. I already put you through a lot. It felt wrong, but you seemed to be doing alright and I thought that maybe if I searched for you elsewhere I wouldn’t miss you as much. It didn’t work, I mean it helped, but it didn’t work. I miss you so much. I want to make things right, I have got to make things right with you. You don’t have to stay around, I just need to know how you feel. I get it if you don’t want to see me again. I’ll leave right now if you want me too. I’ll pack up my sailor hat and I’ll-.” Steve started to speak quickly not even really thinking about the words coming out of his mouth. He just had so much to say and it was pointless for him to try and organize all of it. He wanted you to know every thought that ran through his mind.

“Steve.” You interrupted him and as he caught his breath you grabbed ahold of one of his hands. “I’m sorry too, so unbelievably sorry. I miss you too.” You smiled lightly and Steve let out a nervous sigh as his eyes traveled to your hands holding one of his.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Jessica yell from the diner. You whipped your head around.

“In a minute!” You yelled across the mall. You faced Steve and followed his eyes down to your hands. You quickly let go with an awkward chuckle. Steve let a small smile escape as he saw your cheeks go a rosy red and you playfully pushed him away.

“Truce?” He asked holding out his hand. You smirked and took it both of your hands gliding down each others wrist as your pinkies enter locked. You both had wicked smirks plastered on your faces as you both chuckled.

“You dork.” You said and Steve’s mouth hung open dramatically.

“I’m the dork? You did it too.” He laughed and you both just felt so at peace that it didn’t matter that your fingers were starting to intertwine.

“(Y/N)! Come clock out!” Jessica obnoxiously yelled from the opening of the diner.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.” You said as you began to head off towards the diner, your heart lighter than air.

“Movie night tonight, right?” He shouted.

“That’s up to Robin not me!” You shouted turning and walking backwards. “I don’t think she’s sold on you, yet!” You joked and turned back around and entered the diner.

Steve chuckled taking a bite of the other corn dog in his hand. Not sold on him, yet? How could she not be sold on him yet. As Steve swallowed his bite of corn dog he realized that Robin wasn’t going to be sold on him if he went back upstairs with a cold corn dog with a bite taken out of it.

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epicstuckyficrecs · 5 years

Text

Stucky Christmas Fic Compilation!

Happy holidays everybody! Here comes a little Christmas Eve special just for you ;) Tomorrow I’m posting another fic compilation for Christmas, but a special 2018 edition! :D

Princess Perfect Pony Palace by 74days (3K)

It's Christmas Eve and Natasha's daughter has just admitted to her parents that she asked Santa for a Princess Perfect Pony Palace. Which is currently out of stock in every store within 50 miles. It's time for Uncle Bucky to step up and deliver the most wanted gift of the season - he just didn't think he'd have to fight a hot blond for it.

All Mixed Up by Brenda (4K)

Oh God, she was probably someone's wife or mother or something and he'd just made things ten times more awkward and – "Oh, I didn't mean – I mean, I didn't mean it like that, I just thought –"

Then a large, masculine, warm hand slid into his, and a low, very male voice said: "Nat, you love new friends, don't be rude."

"James, really?"

"Yes, really." The hand in Steve's gently tugged. "C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee; you can be friends with me instead."

Part 1 of The Last Boyfriend (12K)

Merry Christmas Punk by cleo4u2 (7K)

The Howling Commandos plan a Christmas present for their Captain. It's not at all what Steve expected, but it's everything he ever wanted.

All This Time by InterruptingDinosaur (8K)

Bucky can’t wait for the holiday season to be over. December only brings more students into the library which means more shelving work for him. However, when someone starts leaving Bucky gifts, he starts to change his mind.

All I Want For Christmas Has Been You for More Than Seventy Yearsby Kellyscams (9K)

It's Bucky's first Christmas back with Steve in 70 years, just a year since he's come to live with him and the Avengers. Steve's taking him away from the city for the occasion. Bucky assumes it's for his own safety; just in case the hustle and bustle of the New York Christmas Season triggers some of the Winter Soldier tendencies he's been fighting and learning to overcome.

Bucky doesn't mean to take this impromptu trip personally. Doesn't want to be upset. But he's recently recalled and redeveloped his feelings for Steve. Feelings he never shared with him. Feelings he has no idea if Steve shares, so being alone with his super soldier buddy might not be something he's ready for. Only Steve's reasons for taking Bucky away might not be so black and white--or red and green as it may be.

Christmas songs, snowball fights, ugly Christmas sweaters, confessions, and Bucky wrapped up in Christmas lights.

whose arms will hold you by biblionerd07 (10K)

Steve needs a ride home for Christmas. Bucky needs a passenger.

Not the Same River at my Fingertips by giselleslash (11K)

Steve desperately needs a ride home for Christmas but the last person he wants to take help from is Bucky Barnes. There’s a one night stand gone badly and four years of hurt feelings and misunderstandings between them.

Of course there's a road trip home that goes perfectly smoothly.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (and Other Lies He Tells Himself) by betts (14K)

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

The Right Time by wearing_tearing (16K)

“So let me see if I got this right,” Bucky says, gaze focused on Steve. “You want to fake date me.”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, and then corrects him, “I want us to pretend to be engaged.”

Let your heart be light by relenafanel (21K)

Bucky looks like he’s had a difficult month, what with the eviction notice and all, but that’s not the reason Steve gives for allowing him to stay on his couch.

“You have somewhere to go?” Steve questioned, crossing his arms and attempting to look casual, not like he was worried for Bucky. He stepped into the apartment, ignoring how bare it was.

Bucky paused and gave him an exasperated look. “I’m not completely hopeless.”

A fic spanning from mid-November to early-February.

Beneath the Mistletoe by sunrow (21K)

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

It's the Best Time of the Year by chicklette (40K)

Steve's finally figured this whole Captain America thing out: He's got a place in Brooklyn, a couple of good friends, and a mild crush on the hot barista at his favorite coffee shop. So what if he never talks to the guy. It's not like he's actually lonely, right? Right.

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse (92K)

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Coming Home For Christmas by Chiyume (118K)

Steve Rogers is a good man. His friends have told him so on numerous occasions, but this might actually be more bordering on "stupid" rather than "kind". Because what else would you describe the act of inviting a complete stranger - and thief - into your home over the Holidays? Steve isn't quite sure what to call it himself, but fact is that when it comes to the case of Bucky Barnes, Steve's actually pretty okay with being referred to as an idiot, as long as it keep the other man safe. And to Steve's defence, it had all started out with such good intentions...

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #christmas #I know the first time I'll be posting this it will be the 23rd in my timezone #but I wanted the people down under to get it on the morning of the 24th #so whatever!

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iamnotbrianmay · 5 years

Text

The A Experience

Summary: The three times Roger's bandmates said 'I Love You' to him, and the three times he said it back.

Notes: I fucking loved this chapter, writing it, planning it, and reading it over and over. I don't know why but I feel like it's the best thing I have ever writen for this story, even if it's just a time skip chapter. Now, I know what you might all be thinking, you are missing stuff, Maria. What about the Moving in? Or the healing on the part of Roger? But I feel like those things deserve their own fanfic, you know? So what I'm going to do is that once I finish this story I'm going to write their stories. I have planned them out completely already, don't you worry.For all of you who want to know their lenghts:

- Moving In - Three chapters (about 10k - 15k) - Aftermath - Five Chapters (18k - 20k)

So yeah, I hope y'all are as excited as I am for these stories.

the taglist goes as follows: @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls

Three Months After the Incident;

Surprisingly, Deaky is the first one to say ‘I Love You’ to Roger.

It’s Friday night, and instead of being out with his friends he’s stuck at the flat with a fever. He’s lying in his bed sick and miserable, trying not to feel like the world is ending when he gets the text message that sets the night off.

—Bri: rogieeeeeeeeeee

Roger groaned as he heard the annoying ping! of his phone. He recognized the text-tone he had set for Brian— it was that alone that motivated him to turn over and grab his phone. As he quickly unlocked it his fever-addled brain reminded him that he would have to text back while looking at the painfully bright screen; something that would not help his current pounding headache.

—Bri: why didnt you coem?

Roger frowned as he read the uncharacteristically bad spelling and grammar in Brian’s texts. It was also missing the ever present addition of ‘—Bri.’ a gag that the older man was adamandant on using ever since Roger had complained about his texting style. Then he remembered that Freddie had taken Brian to the newest bar in town, an over the top place called Verona which Freddie seemed to adore, and left him and John to fend for themselves.

As far as he knew Brian never got drunk, or at least had never had gotten drunk until Roger came into his life, which was something he was not happy about. Not that Roger didn’t like when Brian had fun or went out to clubs with Freddie and John, but he couldn’t help but worry that he was a bad influence; that his actions were mirroring Tim’s.

He blinked a few times, trying to will away the drunken typing, but when he looked back the evidence was still there— as clear as day, and a painful as poison. Roger typed out a quick reply, not wanting Brian to think that he was ignoring him.

Taylor: r u drunk?

Roger started biting his lip nervously, thinking about what would follow next in the line of things that he was going to infect Brian with. His feverish brain was all too happy to provide him with answers; everything ranging from his horrible clothing and love for k-pop (of all things!) to things like smoking, sometimes even the occasional joint or other, somewhat more than harmful, substances.

Brian’s answer wasn’t comforting at all.

—Bri: ts nice!

—Bri: would be nicre if u were heer

Roger shut his phone off without answering. Unable to get comfortable, he threw the covers off and wobbled into the kitchen. So what if he was sick? He was in desperate need of a drink— maybe two—something that had been strictly forbidden by the other boys in the house now that his body was shivering with fever and he was taking medicine for his rattling cough and sore throat.

They had been performing in an outdoor stage a week ago when Roger started to feel this way, light headed and extremely hot. As the night went on he felt progressively worse and by the time they had finished playing he was feeling like death warmed over. After their final song the small restaurant crowd had cheered and while the others had felt high with the adrenaline rush, Roger just wanted a hot drink and a place to rest, like a coffin.

The next morning he had woken up with an aching throat, runny nose and a fever. He felt as if someone was sitting on his chest and was unable to get out of bed without feeling like he was going to pass out. Sleeping alone didn’t make him feel any better; since he had moved in he and Brian didn’t need to share a bed anymore, quite possibly the only negative of his new living situation. Living with them all also meant he had a front row seat to what he had done to the older man and he wasn’t sure he deserved to share his bed anyways.

Roger unscrewed the lid from the bottle of cheap Vodka he had stuffed deep into the back of the pantry and poured himself a glass. He knew his bandmates would give him a hard time if they found out about it, but at this point he didn’t really care all that much. He only stopped when the glass was half full, clear liquid twinkling in the kitchen light, promising some relief. Roger put the cap back on and stuffed the bottle back where it belonged.

His plan to get shitfaced was regretfully cut short when he turned around to find John standing in the doorway, his head tilted to the side and his arms crossed over his chest. His stare wasn’t angry or annoyed, but a mix of curiosity and concern. “I could have sworn we told you not to drink while sick.”

Roger’s fingers twitched as his grip tightened on the glass, a little afraid that John was going to take it away from him.

“I needed a drink,” he explained.

John sighed, nodding for Roger to follow him into the living room, and for some strange reason he followed. They sat on the couch together, legs crossed, then John said something that surprised him, “If you can give me a valid reason as to why you need a drink I will let you finish that glass. I might even join you.”

Roger’s eyes widened, and he was about to ask what had come over John before the younger man interrupted him.

“We will talk about that, or about something else if you want to, until Freddie and Brian come stumbling through the door, after which we become four drunks instead of two. I promise I will do this, but you have to give me a valid reason.”

Ever since Roger had moved in John, though quiet and often introverted, had been extremely supportive, keeping him standing on his own two feet when he started to feel like the room seemed was spinning out of his control. In moments exactly like the one they were having right now. He was staring at Roger with a patient smile, one hand resting lightly on his knee and the other extended so that Roger could put the glass on his palm. It seemed like a fair trade, a reason for a drink. So nodded in agreement and handed John his vodka.

The younger man smiled, placing the alcohol on the table before turning back to Roger and started idly tracing circles on his knee. Roger sniffed twice (damn his runny nose) and thought about what to say. Fuck it he thought, before letting the words pour out of him. It was as if someone else was talking, telling John about his worries and his guilt, but he was still very much present as he watched his friend react to all he was saying. He could the various emotions in his eyes, his expression changing from neutral to angry, then flickering again to sadness. Roger heard his own voice, the tone in which he spoke, soft and sad and urgent— even if he wasn’t quite in control of the words he was saying. What he noticed most of all was how tenderly John reached out with a tissue to dry the tears (when had he started crying?) that were sliding down his cheeks as he spoke.

When Roger returned from his— well he didn’t quite know what to call it apart from an “out of body experience” but that didn’t seem quite right— he looked away from John. Suddenly he was aware and ashamed of the fact that, one, he didn’t quite know what he had said, and two, probably had over-shared to someone who didn’t want to hear his personal battles. It had been different than when he had told Brian, he had been hyper-aware of every word he was saying and how Brian would hear it; making sure that he didn’t make a fool of himself. With John however it was almost as if his mind had switched to autopilot, and he remained unable to act on anything beyond registering John’s emotions and thinking ‘Oh god, what am I doing?’

One moment he was trying to justify his reason for a damn drink, the next he was ripping open his chest, everything bared before John’s eyes. He prepared himself for anger, or disgust, or maybe even John telling him what he most feared; that he was right. He would tell him that he needed to back off; keep as far away from Brian as possible. Instead John, the least touchy-feely member of their group, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Roger’s shoulders. Putting one hand between his shoulder blades and one on the back of his head, then resting his head on the side of Roger’s neck.

He didn’t know if it was the fever or if he’d always been that soft, but the gesture was enough to break Roger. He gripped the back of John’s shirt and was unable to stop the hot tears that escaped. John simply held him, didn’t pull away or complain about the puddle of tears and snot he was probably making on his shirt; he just let him cry for as long as he needed to.

When he finally untangled himself from John, the younger man pressed their foreheads together, and smiled at Roger, “Y’know, I love you, Rog.” he gave Roger’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

That made Roger chuckle, the last few tears that had been left in his eyes streamed down his face, and neither of them bothered to dry them, “I love you too John, don’t know how we’ll break this to Freddie and Bri though.” John smiled, glad to see even a glimmer of his friend’s regular self.

They stay like that for a few minutes, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together before John pulled back. Roger wanted to whine at the loss of contact, but John took his hand in his instead; it wasn’t quite the same, but it was still comforting.

John took a deep breath, “You aren’t like Tim, you do know that, right Rog?”

Rogers eyes flew open and he looked at John, his grey eyes watching him, his expression serious and sincere. Suddenly Roger feels a flush of anger.

“How can you say that?”

John seemed unfazed by his anger, “I find it quite easy to tell the truth.”

“John—”

“Roger,” His tone is not angry, but he cuts off Roger’s rebuttal. Roger resentfully closes his mouth, his body trembling slightly as John continues. “You are not him. You will never be him. And just because you showed Brian how to enjoy more than one drink does not mean that you are following in his footsteps.”

“But John—”

“Did Brian ever refuse a drink?”

Roger hesitates, “No, but–”

“Did you force him to drink?”

Roger frowned, “Kind of—?”

“Oh bullshit!” John snapped, “You didn’t force him to do anything, Roger. Brian is soft, yes, but he can also be a stubborn son of a bitch. If he wanted to stay sober he would have, be it by telling you to fuck off or by sipping on a coke or something.”

“If I’m not a bad influence then why is he keep drinking more now?”

John shrugged, “Simple, he likes it.”

“That’s why,” Roger insisted, “I did that! Brian liking alcohol is my fault! Just like it was Tim’s fault that I began smoking.”

The silence that followed was deafening and John’s hard stare softened, “Look, Roger I know this will be hard to believe, but Brian had actually tasted alcohol before you came around. I will not sit by and let you torture yourself for something that is not your fault! This isn’t something that anyone can be blamed for alright? Brian is just going out and doing things normal twenty-one-year-olds do. If anything, you helped him loosen up, brought him out of his shell a little. It’s a good thing! ”

“Deaky…”

“No, I’m serious. As long as it doesn’t become a destructive habit, I don’t see any harm.”

Roger thought about that for a moment, “As long as you help him quit if it gets out of hand…”

John scoffed, “Of course we will! That’s what family is for.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, Roger yearned for that kind of belonging. Warmth filled his chest at the thought of someday being part of their family, someday being called Deaky’s brother, or Freddie’s “constant annoyance”. Maybe even Brian’s significant other. But for the time being he would happily settle for friend, roommate, and bandmate. “Now, about that drink...”

John groaned, “I was kind of hoping that you had forgotten about that,” he reached for the glass, taking a swig before handing it to Roger, “but a promise is a promise.”

Roger brought the glass to his lips but hesitated, “Wait, do you think anything bad will happen if I drink while on this medication?”

John shook his head, “Naw, it’s over-the-counter stuff. Not strong enough to kill you, but it’s strong enough to get you hammered faster than usual.”

The grin that spread across Roger’s face was mischievous, to say the least, “Perfect.”

The funny thing was that when Brian and Freddie finally stumbled in an hour later, they were the ones who had to get John and Roger to bed, not the other way around.

Five Months After the Incident:

The next one to say I love you to Roger is Freddie.

The flat was silent when Roger woke up, except for the quiet snores coming from Brian’s side of the room. He rolled over and frowned once he saw the ungodly hour at which he woke up. Still, he was feeling much better after recovering from that god-awful flu and couldn’t help but smile at Brian’s strangely adorable snoring.

Deciding he might as well get up and make some coffee, he peeled back the covers and moved around the room as silently as he could to avoid waking the other man.

As he slowly shut the door behind him and turned towards the kitchen he realised that he wasn’t the only one awake. Usually the most likely to sleep in ‘till noon, Freddie, was deep in concentration; scribbling on a piece of paper, shoulders hunched and hair tied back into a low ponytail. There was soft murmuring every few seconds and Roger decided to clear his throat to avoid scaring him when he walked into the kitchen.

Freddie man turned around, and Roger was quick to notice his watery eyes his slightly red nose. He rushed forward then, placing a hand on Freddie’s back, “Fred are you okay? You haven’t caught my cold have you?”

Freddie made a gesture with his hand, “No, no I’m fine Roger. I don’t know what came over me.”

Okay now Roger was really worried about him. “You don’t cry easily.”

“I know.”

“And when you do, you do it in private.”

“How is it you know so much about me already and we haven’t even recorded our first album?”

“I notice things” Roger shrugged. “And we’ll get there soon. But don’t change the topic, Freddie. What’s wrong?”

The older man bit his lip, looking at Roger with misty eyes before he seemed to accept that Roger wasn’t going to back off until he got an answer. His brown eyes flickered back to the paper on the table and Roger followed his gaze.

It was quite messy, doodles and lyrics seemed twined together in a cacophony of colours and notes, but the song was there. And in between the doodles of flowers, hand-holding, and the disturbing picture of someone with their eyes, mouth and ears covered, were some of the rawest lyrics Roger had ever read.

He could hear the sad notes of a ballad, the sweet puring of John’s Bass and Brian’s Red Special, he could sense the sadness behind the piece, and for some reason dreaded getting to the end.

Then he read the last line and it all made sense. ‘... ‘cause regardless of the words I’ve said, I’ve never had the courage to say I’m sorry.’

He could see how the hands which were intertwined resembled his and Brian’s hands. One had the tell-tale scar that Roger bared on his thumb and the other hand had its nails painted white. The flowers on the sides seemed random enough, but Roger had been around Freddie enough to know anything Freddie drew was seldom random. And only after close inspection did Roger realise that the man looked like him, long blond hair, feminine features, and suffering in silence. He’d known Freddie had a knack for drawing but this was...

They were both quiet for a long time, and Roger wondered if Brian or John would wake up before they managed to say what was on their minds. The words seemed to be stuck inside of him and he found himself unable to drag his eyes away from the paper. Roger wasn’t sure he could speak to Freddie even if he wanted to.

In the end Roger he didn’t have to.

“You know, I never said sorry for what I did to you.” Freddie said quietly.

When Roger finally turned towards the older man he couldn’t help but feel pained, because his friend genuinely believed that it had been his fault, somehow. That somehow Freddie was expected to know that one of his oldest friends was an asshole behind closed doors; and that the world was small enough for Brian’s old crush to be his ex.

“You didn’t need to,” his voice came out as a pathetic croak, and Roger cursed himself internally.

“Of course I did, darling,” he whispered back, “of course I did. If it wasn’t for me you would have asked Brian on that date of yours. If it wasn’t for me, you would have had a nice night, if it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have—”

Freddie looked away, hastily brushing away a tear that had broken free.

“It was my fault that night went so horribly wrong and the worst part is that I never had the balls to say I’m sorry.”

For the first time in his life Roger Taylor was happy that he woke up at six in the morning and that he had decided to stay up instead of rolling over and going back to sleep. God knows if they would be having this conversation otherwise.

Roger was glad for the quiet of the apartment, for the fact that right now they were the only ones awake. It was only because it was so quiet that Freddie was able to hear the words Roger whispered next.

“Freddie, look at me.”

The singer hesitated before turning his head around, and Roger kneeled beside his chair so that they were at the same level.

“What happened that night was my fault as much as it was yours.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Roger brought a finger up and placed it across Freddie’s lips.

“By which I’m saying that it’s not your fault at all.”

A loose floorboard creaked in one of the bedrooms but Roger ignored it for the time being, knowing he needed to get this off his chest.

“It’s taken me months to realise it, but what happened that night wasn’t anyone’s fault but Tim’s.” Roger finally lifted his finger off Freddie’s lip, “It took me months ‘till I realised that, and it may take you months to realise that too, but that’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you if you ever doubt it.”

There was a short silence before Freddie smiled, “I should be the one comforting you.”

“Nah,” Roger said, for the first time in months not feeling like a fragile mess.

“I’ve had more than my fair share of comforting words. Now it’s time for me to comfort you. This friendship goes both ways right?”

Freddie blinked owlishly, which was a very rare expression for him. “What did we do before you came into our lives, dear?”

“Crash, burn, and tease poor Brian mercilessly?” Roger shrugged.

They both started laughing at that, Roger leaning forward to put his head on Freddie’s lap and Freddie running his fingers through Roger’s blond locks, “Seriously Freddie, you don’t have to sorry.”

“But what if I want too?”

Roger considered that for a moment, “Then I guess I’ll take it. But only if it’s the last time you say that to me, deal?”

“The last time ever?”

“No dufus, about this particular topic! I’ve known you for a while now, give me some credit. You’re bound to fuckup something sooner or later.”

There was a short breathy laugh that filled Roger’s heart with love, and then Freddie bent down to press a quick kiss on his head. “I’m sorry, darling. For everything.”

“I know, Freddie.” Roger answered, “And it’s okay, I forgive you.” It was odd how much lighter things felt between the two of them.

For a second Roger wondered how he had gotten so lucky, how he had managed to find this small home away from home, this group of people which he understood so well. His boys, who he could fight with and insult, only to make up a few hours later as if nothing had happened. Roger also wondered how he had survived before this, before them.

“You know, I’m starting to have these really cheesy thoughts about how much I love you,” Freddie whispered as he resumed running his hands through Roger’s hair, and Roger’s feelings seemed to be amplified by three hundred.

“Oh good god,” he said teasingly, his words slightly muffled, “ you and John!? Now we’re really going to have some explaining to do to poor Brian!”

Freddie smacked his head playfully and Roger chuckled. “I love you too, Fred. Very much.”

There was another long moment of silence in which Roger considered closing his eyes and drifting off. He wasn’t comfortable, or particularly sleepy, but Freddie’s hands worked like magic on him, and the only way he managed to snap out of his haze was when Freddie spoke again.

“Okay, I know Brian said pestering you was completely off limits, but honestly darling I’m dying to know.”

Roger regretfully lifted his head to look at him, “What’s up?”

“Are you in love with him?” Freddie asked, “Or do you at least like him a little bit after all this time?”

Roger realized he didn’t feel uncomfortable talking about this with Freddie. Maybe it was the honest curiosity in the man’s voice, or the way that they seemed to be baring their souls for each other to see this morning, but Roger let out a dreamy sigh.

Then wrinkled his nose at his reaction.

“Freddie you have no idea,” he groaned, getting up and sitting up on the other chair so that he could look at the older man. His voice was no longer dreamy, it was rather like he was annoyed at himself, for betraying his feelings so easily, “I think he’s making me stupid! I really can’t find another explanation for what I feel. It’s like he walks into a room and it becomes brighter, he plays guitar and it sounds perfect, and he smiles— oh god, don’t get me started on his smile.” His head hit the table with a soft thunk.

Freddie chuckled, “You really are fucked, aren’t you?”

“Beyond belief,” he answered, matter of factly. He looked back up, “Honestly, Fred, it’s gotten ridiculous! That man could ask me to roll around on the floor like a dog and I wouldn’t even bother to ask what for.”

At that Freddie laughed loudly, throwing his head back and bringing a hand to his chest, while Roger sat across from him feeling pathetic, “It’s absurd, it really is.”

Freddie looked at him slyly, “Then tell him.”

Roger could feel his heart start to race, could hear the heavy beat. The thought of being Brian’s something terrified him beyond belief, made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, one step from plummeting to the ground. His palms actually started to sweat. Roger often thought of relationships being somewhat similar to base jumping. You put your life on the line to jump into the great unknown, all the while your actions or a faulty parachute could mean the difference between life and death. How could you do that when you don’t know how it’s going to end? Roger felt like he couldn’t rely on himself not to mess things up epically. For one, he didn’t really know how to be in a relationship. For another matter, did they ever really go well? Looking back at his past experiences, Roger just wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t do that to Brian, could he?

He couldn’t risk starting a relationship, all the while lugging his emotional baggage, his uncertainties, and his broken way of handling romantic feelings. Hell, Brian himself had admitted didn’t know what he was doing! It was terrifying and tempting at the same time because while he wasn’t sure he could give Brian what he deserved, god how he wanted to try.

“You’ll never know until you do,” Freddie said. Oh god, Roger didn’t realize he’d said that last part out loud. “I may be a hopeless romantic but I care about my friends. You and Brian have something darling, don’t you think that’s worth the risk?”

“You think?”

“I know,” Freddie stated, “and I also know that whole ‘If you really love them, let them go’ thing is absolute bullshit, and I will murder you if you try to do that to Brian.”

“You wouldn’t murder me,” Roger said confidently.

“And why not?”

“Simple,” he replied, getting up to make them both some coffee, “who is going to help you choose your outfits? Deaky? Brian?”

Freddie made a face, “Goodness, you’re right, I can’t murder you. I’ll find another way to get you Taylor!”

Six Months After the Incident:

Unsurprisingly, the last one to say I love you is Brian.

They’d just finished recording the first song for their album after hours and hours of recordings and lyric tinkering. But by the end of the night Seven Seas of Rhye was finally ready. Which meant they only had nine more songs to record before their first album would be complete.

Brian and Roger were under direct orders not to go inside the flat that evening unless they wanted to hear things that might scar them for life, so after recording they took off to find a nice place to eat. Somewhere they could celebrate this (significant!) small victory, their one step closer to fame and notoriety.

They walked around downtown, searching for somewhere that looked decent but cheap enough for them to properly celebrate, and in the end they settled for an 80’s themed restaurant. The bright lights and colours drew them in, and they stayed because of the smell wafting from the kitchen.

The place looked promising, with reasonable prices, great music and greasy food that seemed perfect for the occasion. Rogers stomach started growling at the prospect of a burger and fries. They slid into a booth, and he started tapping a rhythm on the rubik's cube themed table.

“D’you think we would have fit in more in the eighties?” Brian asked randomly.

The question took Roger by surprise, but he didn’t have to think twice about the answer, “Are you kidding me? Of course not! Are you crazy? What would people in the eighties think about four gays in a glam rock band? The press would have eaten us alive!”

Brian laughed, then shrugged, “I guess you have a point, but our music fits the era quite well, don’t you think?”

“Oh, perfectly,” Roger agreed, “And so do our stage costumes. But then again, I’d rather not be closeted and miserable, thank you very much.”

“What concert would you have liked to play in?”

Roger raised his eyebrows, “Is that even a question? Live Aid, of course.”

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin?”

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin.” Roger could imagine himself on that stage, playing for millions of people, and breathing the same air Led Zeppelin had done a few hours before, “I could kill a man to be there.”

“So could I.” Brian agreed.

The waiter arrived with the menus, interrupting their conversation, and started talking to them about the daily specials. They ended up ordering the chef recommended hamburger with cheese fries and a milkshake to share. He smiled and left them alone to discuss whatever they had been before he had arrived, walking away with a suggestive swing to his hips, and a wink towards Brian.

Roger could see the man’s appeal, his sandy blond hair, large brown eyes and long limbs. If his heart hadn’t been completely enamoured with Brian he might have even thought about asking for his number. But how could he? The guitarist was right there, looking like an 80’s god in his loose white shirt, chocolate-brown curls framing his face. Brian, however, seemed very affected by the waiter’s attention, Roger could see a blush blooming across his cheeks.

The younger man could hear his heart, and Freddie for that matter, screaming in protest as he placed his hands over Brian’s, “You could ask for his number, you know? I don’t want to stand in your way.”

Brian frowned and tilted his head in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Roger nodded his head towards the counter where the waiter was leaning, talking to the chef, presumably about their orders. “About blondie over there. He looked like he was interested in getting more than just your order.”

“Yeah well, he should know better than to hit on someone who’s clearly taken.” He said indignantly.

They both fell silent, the implication of Brian’s words finally hit him, and the night rapidly turned into a game of who could blush the deepest shade of red.

“ Oh god, that’s embarrassing. I’m sorry Roger. And rude, definitely more rude than embarrassing. I know we’re not, you’re not not my anything yet but I sort of— I don’t know what came over me, Rog, I’m sorry.”

The thought came unbidden Brian’s so cute when he’s jealous and Roger couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up in his throat. It was a nervous little thing, and it escaped him without his consent. But once he started he couldn’t stop, even though he knew how embarrassing he must sound; because of all the things he could have done, his body decided to start giggling like a twelve-year-old school girl.

And as much as he loved the way Brian was looking at him amusedly, like he had hung the moon and stars, it was very much not funny. He looked like an idiot, he sounded like an idiot, and he couldn’t stop the bloody thing from escaping his lips. He tried covering his mouth with his hand, but to his dismay Brian just seemed to think that was cuter judging by his expression.

“Oh Lord,” He said between giggles, “I hate myself.”

That seemed to be enough to make Brian join in. He started to giggle quietly, trying to cover his face with both hands, and failing miserably to contain the sound of laughter. Maybe it was how tired they both felt, maybe the lack of sleep from trying to work, study, and record an album was finally catching up to them, or maybe it was the emotional exhaustion from trying so hard to repress their feelings for each other’s sake. But by the time the waiter came back with their food they had barely said another word, yet their stomachs hurt and their eyes were wet with tears caused by laughing for so long.

They managed to contain themselves long enough to thank the waiter, but once he had left Brian looked at him with twinkling eyes, and a mischievous expression. Roger wiped his eyes, “Brian, no. Please stop. It hurts.”

The older man put his hands up, “I’m not doing anything! I was just trying to apologize seconds before you had your hysteria attack.”

“Yeah well,” He tried to defend himself, “you started laughing with me!.”

“Couldn’t help it,” Brian said, “You’re just way too cute.”

Suddenly Roger didn’t feel like laughing anymore. He blushed madly, looking down to his greasy burger and french fries. Brian seemed to sense his change in mood, and instantly tried to make it better, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. It seems I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth!”

“It’s fine, really Bri” Roger said as he stuffed a fry into his mouth, “I’m just not used to being the one blushing.”

“Oh,” Brian raised his eyebrows, “How so?”

Roger rolled his shoulders “Well, I’m usually the one doing the flirting, and not being a mumbling, blushing, mess. I guess you’ve changed me, Brian Harold May.”

“Have I?”

“Greatly,” Roger looked up at Brian through his lashes, the older boy was looking at him with curiosity, “I didn’t think I’d ever want to have a relationship with anyone after— well, you know.”

He stuffed another fry into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it before continuing.

“Ever since I came out of that shithole I’ve been a shag and run kind of guy. Never thought I would like someone as much as I like you.”

“And that’s why you’re trying to set me up with the waiter?”

Roger shrugged, “I don’t think I deserve someone like you. I don’t deserve you waiting for me, taking me out, indulging my tantrums and moods. I’m not worth all of this, Brian.”

Brian May never cursed openly in public, so when he felt the guitarist grab his hand and say “that’s bullshit”, he knew he was in for a rant. Roger braced himself for an angry explanation of what the guitarist thought about what Roger had just said. Maybe with a few ‘Deaky warned me about this’ thrown in there, but what he received was much better than he had expected.

“I love you, Roger Taylor,” he started, and Roger snapped his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash, “I love you for everything you are, and everything you aren’t. I love the way you play drums, the way you care for people, the way you smile, the way you giggle at the most inappropriate times. I just so happen to find you the most interesting person on the face of earth. And if that’s not worth waiting for, I don’t know what is.”

“Brian, I—”

“No, let me finish,” Brian interrupted him, “I know this might seem silly, or straight up delusional, coming from someone you only just met seven months ago, when you pretended to be my boyfriend, but I think I think I’m falling love with you. No, I know I am. So stupidly ass-backwards in love that I am willing to wait for you. And if I have to wait fifty years for my first proper kiss, or my first proper shag, then so be it.

I waited three years for someone that wasn’t worth it, I can wait a hell of a lot longer for someone who is worth everything.”

That was the first time in Roger’s life that he was left truly speechless. Sitting in the middle of the night, eating the best french fries he had ever had, looking at Brian May as the other boy stared at him like he was the most precious being in the universe. He felt as if he had forgotten how to speak, forgotten how to move, how to breathe, how to think.

His brain was short circuiting as he tried to find an answer to what Brian had just said, and then when his brain seemed to fail completely he opened his mouth and let the words that first came to mind spill, “I...I love you, too.”

“Good,” Brian leaned back and popped a fry into his mouth, “that’s all I could hope for.” He grinned.

“But I’m not ready yet.” Roger cautioned.

“And that’s okay.”

Roger blinked once, “Are you kidding me?”

Brian raised an eyebrow, “Does it look like I’m kidding?”

“No.”

Brian took another sip of the milkshake, “That’s because I’m not. I was serious about waiting for you to come around. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to wait, as long as you love me too.”

Roger mulled over the idea of Brian’s love; his unorthodox, patient, unselfish way of loving. He’d wait for Roger until he was ready. That was...wow...he felt like he was floating, like the ground and all of his troubles were thousands of miles away as Brian smiled encouragingly back at him. He felt his heart flutter with something that felt suspiciously like hope.

“You really don’t mind?” He asked again

Brian shrugged, “I’ve survived twenty-one years being single. I think I can manage a few more as long as I get my daily dose of cuddling.”

He could tell Brian was joking about the last part by the glint in his eyes, but Roger smiled nonetheless, and nodded, “ I may, on occasion, need to hop in with you and take you up on that.”

“Good.” Brian grinned.

They ate the rest of their meal with an easy banter between them, chatting about everything and anything. Roger felt his shoulders relax, and his mind completely invest itself in the conversation. Brian animatedly talked about stars, and guitar chords, then about songs about stars, and Roger couldn’t help but feel that even with all the drama that had resulted, he had made the right choice by swiping right.

In the end, when the restaurant was closing and it was late enough for them to deem it safe to go back home, Roger was exhausted. They walked hand in hand, talking and laughing. And then when they got to their building Roger pulled Brian aside.

All it took was for him to look into Brian’s hazel eyes to make a choice. He stood on the tip of his toes and kissed the corner of Brian’s mouth. It was short and chaste, but Brian looked as if he had won the lottery.

“What was that for?”

“Reassurance.”

“Of what?”

“Of what’s to come, dummy. Now open the door, I’m freezing!”

#the a experience fic #Brian May #roger taylor #Maylor #John Deacon #freddie mercury #deacury #slash #Sharing a bed #fake dating #fanfic #fluff

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quarantinemusiccalendar · 4 years

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Day 14: Radiohead - In Rainbows

Is there anyone between the ages of 28 - 42 who doesn’t actually know this album? I feel it’s one of the musical milestones that define a generation. It’s their 7th studio album and it’s the one where they venture into new emotional territories. It’s the album I come back to over and over again. Often when I need to sort out some anxiety or restlessness that have crept into my life without an apparent reason.

I will not write about who Radiohead are. I won’t write about their musical development either. And I will not write about the revolutionary way how this album got released. All of that is so well known I would be repeating information most of you already know. If you don’t know, go and read up on them on Wikipedia ;-) Instead, I will focus on this album itself and its context, symbolism behond the lyrics and its place in the line of Radiohead’s discography.

In Rainbows got released in October 2007 and it’s the album where they went significantly quieter. Somewhere around this time this band realized that they don’t have to saturate the space with sounds to make a good song and they stopped being afraid of silence - or quite parts in this case. There is effectively only one rocker song (Bodysnatchers). It’s a very organic, contemplative and comforting record.

Thom York mentioned once himself, that there is very little anger on this album. There are very little political subjects on this album. (in comparison to their 6 earlier records). It rather explores the idea of transience. As Thom once described it: "It very much explores the ideas of transience. It starts in one place and ends somewhere completely different." The album takes a lot of inspiration from Goethe's Faust. It’s not the only topic on it, but it’s very prominent. You will find hints and lines mentioning subjects from Faust in the songs Reckoner, Faust Arp, Videotape. Author of one of the reviews I have read during my research has explained it really well: "The character, Faust, observes that life is not about some great search for divine light, but rather, it is about the practice of living with the enlightenment of God at your back; thus allowing it to guide you forward through your organic life, and not lead you down a dead-end path of obsession. It is the recognition that the source light which governs our world cannot really be seen or fully understood by human beings .... Although we have moments of clarity and deep understanding, these moments are generally temporary and don't last very long." (3)

It’s an album that stands out for its clarity, warmness, bold and brilliant songwriting. Radiohead always knew how to make a record that sounds and feels as one compact unit. This one is no exception. But In Rainbows, containing balanced mix of different kinds of song, somehow reflects the beauty and complexity of human life so well, that makes the album quite terapeutical. In contains their usual moodiness, neuroticism, soulfulness murkiness, but his time they added more warmth and even some romantic undertones. The guitar parts are fluid and soaked in reverb and Thom's voice is at its most soulful. , OK Computer (1997) are Kid A (2000) are equally innovative, brilliant and in some respects maybe even better albums, but they are simply not as warm and comforting as In Rainbows. It brings a stimulating synthesis of accessible songs and abstract sounds - this record steps back from toward more straightforward territory. It covers full musical and emotional spectrum to invoke an aura of breathtaking beauty. It is sparse, thrilling, complex, innovative and yet simple.

This album doesn’t have any weak tracks on it. Just really good ones that suit you completely or really good ones which are not as great fit. But that’s all just a personal preference issue. It doesn’t take anything from its overall quality. But even with an album like this, I have to narrow my selection down to 3 - 5 songs. This is what I’ve picked and why:

Reckoner is a fragile song with an almost Marvin Gaye-like type of sound and a vocal line wrapping beautifully around the meandering guitars and frosty percussions. It just floats through the air. As already mentioned the album reflects several topics from Goethe's Faust. The narrator, Faust, finds himself torn apart between the Reckoner (Mephistopheles) and God ("dare not speak its name"). On the inside his separating, he’s not quite dead yet ("like ripples on a blank shore" - river Styx?), but he’s not alive either.

All I Need is a dark and gentle melody, underpinned by witty, romantic yet slightly creepy lyrics (“I am a moth / Who just wants to share your light / I'm just an insect / Trying to get out of the night”). It’s reflects Faust’s obsessive love for Margarete. It ends with a life-affirming crescendo while Thom sings the words “It’s alright“ over and over again.

Weird Fishes/Arpeggi is my favourite Radiohead song. And the live version From the Basement (picture above) is even better than the studio one. A beautiful guitar line strung from broken accords (sg. arpeggio, pl. arpeggi) intertwines gracefully with the brandishing drums and above them is hovering Thom’s falsetto. The whole thing floats like honey. It seems the song is about finding love, hoping that things will materialize, and then feeling self-doubts that make it difficult to carry things through. The ocean is a symbol of the subconscious, so this is perhaps a journey of self-discovery and self-healing inspired by love. The oceanic imagery in this song is also related to how an artist first becomes inspired to create; also by going into his subconscious. It maybe loosely connected to the story of Faust and Margarete, but maybe it is not.

By Radiohead standards, the song House of Cards is a little less cryptic then usual. It's about 2 people who fall in love, but they both already are in relationships, which are not stable or happy ones. The narrator is trying to convince his love to leave her husband because she'll be happier with him. (”The infrastructure will collapse / Voltage spikes / Throw your keys in the bowl / Kiss your husband goodnight / Forget about your house of cards / And I'll do mine“) The song has a lethargic quality to it. It flows slowly to an unsettling pulse and chipping guitar chords.

The song Videotape is a thought-provoking lamentation on death and uses metaphor about leaving your loved ones a videotape behind when you die. It features cathartic piano parts and it sounds a lot like a slow funeral march, but a graceful and dreamy one, not a morbid one. The figure of Mephistopheles appears again in the lyrics, this time he gets directly mentioned (”When I'm at the pearly gates / This will be on my videotape, my videotape / Mephistopheles is just beneath / And he's reaching up to grab me“). It’s Thom York’s favourite song from this album. The song features a hidden syncopation which makes the song so dreamy and hypnotizing. It makes the sound flat and the rhythm sounds off. It goes against your brain and creates a rhythmic illusion. For better explanation watch the following video.

youtube

Happy Tuesday, relax and enjoy.

Album highlights: - Reckoner - All I Need - Weird Fishes/Arpeggi - House of Cards - Videotape

Playlist: https://spoti.fi/3bB5lH7

References: - Radiohead - Wikipedia - In Rainbows - Wikipedia - In Rainbows – From the Basement - live performance of the album - (1) A. Petridis (10 October 2007). “ Radiohead's In Rainbows - a five-star review “. The Guardian. - (2) Deep Cuts - 10K Subscribers! / Ten Of My Favourite Records (9:38 - 12:27) - (3) Songmeanings.com > Radiohead > In Rainbow

#radiohead #in rainbows #lockdown #quarantine

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callunavulgari · 7 years

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Year-In-Fic

Total fics written this year?

Another Love (The Flash; Barry/E2Wells, Barry/Thawne; 4,586 words) “I want you,” Barry confesses unhappily, a charming pucker between his brows. His eyes dart back up, not shying away for once, to meet Eobard’s. A little bit of steel creeps into his expression again, and Eobard wants to applaud him all over again. What a beautiful creature he’s created.

time in a bottle (The Flash; Eobarry; 2,961 words) “If I didn’t exist,” Thawne says, quietly, moving to slide his fingers up Barry’s jaw; they leave goosebumps in their wake. “Then neither would you. And if you didn’t exist… well. We won’t get into that mess. So the universe — the, hah, Speed Force — sent me here. A paradox, clinging to the cracks between time. Just… waiting.”

nothing's gonna harm you (not while i'm around) (SW; Gen, Reylo; 1,167 words) Ben and Rey Organa are born ten years and five hundred parsecs apart, but Ben can feel it in the Force the moment she comes into being. He can feel her every second of her way home, a bright star that outshines even the familiar intensity of his parents.

we dream in the dark (for the most part) (DA; Gen; 806 words) “Will it go away?” Bethany asks, her voice quiet as a whisper.

Ramble On (The Flash; Eobarry; 2,695 words) Thawne playfully hums a few bars of something vaguely familiar. Barry looks back at him, and when Thawne sees him looking, he smiles wider and gleefully stomps his way through a puddle. Sings, “If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do…”

D.C. al Coda (The Flash; Barrison; Harrison edges closer, until Barry is close enough to touch, and reaches out to take Barry’s jaw in hand. It’s tacky and cool against his palm, from sweat, tears, or both. He tilts Barry’s chin up in a testing sort of way, willing him to open his eyes. “Barry,” he says, gently. “Look at me.”)

it began with stones (DA; Fenhawke; Everyone knows that the blight started in Ferelden.)

darling, you gotta let me know (Stranger Things; Nancy/Steve/Jonathan; 6,120 words) Jonathan’s room is messy the same way that Steve’s is. There are dirty socks and shirts and underwear strewn across the floor. Cassette tapes litter the desk like miniature landmines. There’s a notebook open on his bed, a textbook and a pencil beside it. He must have been studying when Steve knocked.

Binary Sunset (SW; Reylo; 1,747 words) Center stage, Rey holds herself as still as a statue. Spine straight, toes pointed, already in first position. They’ve done something to her eyelashes, softened all her hard edges, from the jut of her jaw to the point of her nose. She glitters, from her feathered bodice to her flowing skirts, a bright glint of white in the dark.He doesn’t think that anyone else has noticed that she’s trembling.

Nine fics. I don’t even want to know how many words.

Best story I wrote this year: darling, you gotta let me know. It was the first fic that I was proud of from the get go this year.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. Ramble On. It had all of the weird dreaminess of Time In a Bottle without the Inception feel. I ended up rereading it on the plane back to Ohio and liked it so much more than I did when I was writing it.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. darling, you gotta let me know, hands down. It’s the first fic to get over a 1000 kudos since I stopped writing Teen Wolf. I mean, of the nine fics that I wrote this year pretty much every one of them is from a smaller fandom. I think the only reason this one got as popular as it did was because I published it right after Stranger Things got big and I was one of the three people who had written for the pairing. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: it began with stones, probably? I usually have a definite answer for this question, but this one was strange as it is. Dragon Age/In the Flesh fusion with Hawke as a zombie? Kinda weird. I don’t mind that it got a small reception, but it fits the most.

Most fun story to write: Another Love. I had a ton of fun playing with that whole concept. Barry going back in time to when Eobard was playing at being Wells was a fucking gift.

Story that could have been better? All of them? Technically? I’m still not entirely pleased with how time in a bottle turned out, but I ramped that one up in my head for so long that I’ll probably never be satisfied with it.

Story I wrote to fix things: Pretty much all of my Flash fics were written to make something better. Ramble On and time in a bottle were both written to satisfy my need for there to be a current-timeline paradox Thawne still out there, tucked away in the speedforce, just biding his time. Hell, all of the God Complex series were written because I wanted to rewrite or add bits to an episode to suit my shipper heart.

Oddest story: it began with stones. In the Flesh. Dragon Age. Kind of weird. But my brain went, what would Jen like for her birthday? Okay, she likes Dragon Age. And she likes zombies. How can I write zombies in a way that I haven’t written them yet? Oh, I know! Hardest story to do: Okay, so it isn’t on here, but the Sabriel AU is what I’ve really been suffering through. I hit a point and wasn’t able to overcome it, which is why it still isn’t done. I’m hoping to read Goldenhand and the rest of the Like Young Gods series sometime this month and we’ll see if it inspires anything. Easiest story to write? I struggled with pretty much everything I wrote this year except for Another Love. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it just so happens to be the only fic I wrote before I gave up smoking.

Most mining of your own history in one story: Pretty much none of them. D.C. al Coda has a lot of my experiences with grief, but that’s about it.

Themes, or absence thereof: Pretty much ‘heroes and villains make out’. Or in the case of Hawke and Fenris... rivalmancy. Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: I have nixed pretty much all of my Teen Wolf projects. I would like to say that at some point I’ll finish the Bioshock Infinite AU and the Carmilla one, just because I have so much written of it already, but I don’t know. I do know that I want to finish the Sabriel AU and I currently have a weirdly one-sided Julian/Barry fic, a Prompto/Noctis pining fic, and several Stargate Atlantis fics that I want to finish. Oh, and maybe the Yuri on Ice soulmate AU if I can make the idea hang around long enough to get to.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): He slides the palms of his hands up her sides, ghosting them up and over her ribs, framing them, feeling where the softness of skin and muscle gives way to hard bone where her rib cage starts, how each breath she takes pushes her body more firmly into his hands. She makes a noise when he reaches her breasts, shuddering when he cups them, even through the fabric.

“Please,” she breathes, and Jonathan hesitates, unsure of what she wants.

“Here,” Steve murmurs, taking hold of Jonathan’s hands once more. He guides them to the buttons of Nancy’s blouse and pauses, waiting, as Jonathan undoes them himself, his touch sliding down Jonathan’s forearms then back up again.

Jonathan pushes the blouse from Nancy’s shoulders, watching the blush that blooms under his eyes, going from her throat clear to her navel. Her cheeks are flushed too, her eyes black and wanting.

Steve lets go of him, maybe realizing that Jonathan won’t be of much help at this moment, and his hands vanish around Nancy’s sides, quick and darting. It isn’t until he’s helping her pull her bra loose that Jonathan even realizes what he’s done.

Steve’s hands go back to his, guiding them to Nancy’s breasts. The skin is firm and supple, and so very warm. Her nipples pull tight when his hand brushes them. Steve leans close to Jonathan’s ear, and whispers, “Touch her.”

Crackiest moment (excerpt): Outside, it’s raining. The air is heavy with humidity, heat pressing down on his back like something alive. Barry walks down the street, feet bare against the wet asphalt. Thunder rumbles threateningly in the distance. A bird sings, and a street over, another joins it. Everything is green and damp. It smells real. Would a dream smell real?

Halfway down the street, a second pair of feet join his. The person they belong to is silent, doggedly following him down the road. Barry doesn’t have to turn to know who his newest phantom is.

“Are you going to sing at me too?”

“Do you want me to sing to you?” Thawne asks.

Barry glances at him, frowning unhappily. He’s wearing Wells’ face again, a familiar little half-smile playing around his lips. His suit is wet. It isn’t the suit — not the yellow one — just a regular one. Plain. Black. The fabric clings to his shoulders and his hair is dripping in his eyes. His feet are bare too, and somehow it feels wrong to see them, the fine slender bones gleaming wetly. Too intimate.

Barry swallows and looks away, but even when he concentrates, it refuses to change. Figures, that even in a dream Thawne would cause him grief. When Barry doesn’t reply, Thawne playfully hums a few bars of something vaguely familiar.

Barry looks back at him, and when Thawne sees him looking, he smiles wider and gleefully stomps his way through a puddle. Sings, “If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do…”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt): “At least,” Eobard interrupts, thoughtfully tapping his finger against his lips. Slowly, he starts to grin. “Not everything. So, Mr. Allen, I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

The answer is written all over Barry’s face. There’s a story there, behind the pain, the grief, the hopeless lust, and it’s one that Eobard knows he’ll get to live out himself over the course of the next year. He wonders just how many times he fucked this boy before the truth came out. The boy — his Barry — already loves him. Not like this, of course, not yet, but a hero worshiping kind that he’s had since day one.

“Well?” He coaxes, eyes widening. “I’m waiting.”

Barry wets his lips convulsively and swallows, his adam’s apple working. He tugs on the cuff, halfheartedly, mouth turned downwards. He didn’t expect this. Maybe he’d expected closure. Or maybe he’d convinced himself that all he really needed was the formula. But he wants this. And Eobard’s going to make him say it.

“I want you,” he confesses unhappily, a charming pucker between his brows. His eyes dart back up, not shying away for once, to meet Eobard’s. A little bit of steel creeps into his expression again, and Eobard wants to applaud him all over again. What a beautiful creature he’s created.

“Just you,” he adds, just as quiet and unhappy, but with a dawning comprehension. “Eobard Thawne.”

A shiver crawls down his spine, dick twitching in his pants. God, it’s good to hear that name again. “Oh, Mr. Allen,” he breathes. “Say it again, won’t you?”

Favorite lines (excerpt):

Jonathan had known that they’d done this before. After all, he was sort of a witness to it. But up close it’s something else, it’s poetry in motion, the way that Nancy’s head tips back, the bead of sweat that slides down the tip of Steve’s nose, how her legs wrap around his waist, her small feet locking at the dip of Steve’s spine.

It’s beautiful, and his fingers itch for his camera, so he fumbles around beside him, stretching his arm out to his desk until he catches the strap and can tug it into his hands. He watches them through the lens of his camera for a moment before he gets up the courage to touch, tapping Steve with his foot and then gesturing with the camera, head cocked.

Can I?

Steve’s entire face transforms when he laughs, going bright with emotion. He nudges Nancy until she glances over and then she’s laughing too, and they’re both nodding.

He catches them both mid laugh, naked limbs flung around each other. And then he catches the moment that the laughter turns to something else, mouths half-parted in breathless pleasure. He catches the curve of Nancy’s breast and the freckle behind Steve’s ear, and then he waits, breathless, for the right moment.

He waits and waits, and the moment that they both go still, bodies shaking with pleasure, mouth caught on soundless moans-

Click.

He swallows, lowering the camera as it spits the picture out with a hiss, and holds it in his hand, watching them. Their eyes are closed, breathless little smiles across their faces, sweat on their brows. Steve hasn’t even pulled out of her.

Click.

Fic goals: Finish Sabriel AU. That’s it. My only other writing-related goal is to get out of this funk, write something big (which will hopefully be the Sabriel AU) and something original. Fingers crossed.

#heather writes #new year's memes #heather says what

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