#i heard this while watching a year end medley and i tried to look for it everywhere
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such a hauntingly beautiful song. the kind where you can't help but think back to your loneliest moments while listening
#i heard this while watching a year end medley and i tried to look for it everywhere#took me a while but i finally found it!!#myeongdong calling#car the garden#music#Spotify
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Good Intentions: End of Summer
Did I write a Solo Triplets fic even though I have two other fics that I should be working on? Yes.
Did I write about the triplets because I am lusting after all three of them and I’m projecting my lust of Adam Driver in a competitive swim suit? Also yes.
Am I going to write a fuck ton more of this because I’m a garbage human being who loves angst? Yes again.
Okay so this is written in a High School AU. You’re a junior in highschool whose been friends with the Solo boys (they are seniors) for a couple years, Matt being one of your closest friends. This fic is going to involve a lot of drama, and a lot of swimming lingo that you might not get but its okay because no one gets it outside of the swimming community. It’s mainly just so I can get this thought of AD characters out of my head and into something more productive. I hope you like it! Also yes there will be smut. Not yet, but yes. Just because the AU is different doesn’t mean I’m not gonna have them make sweet sticky love to us when the moments right.
Thank god outdoor events had tents set up. Or else you would be baking in the sun waiting for your races.
You sat under a large white tent surrounded by towels, goldfish, Gatorade bottles, and an assortment of games. Your teammates were sprawled around you, some were playing cards with each other, some were listening to music to pass the time, and you were just sitting down playing on your Switch.
The Rebellion swim team had been a great escape for you. It allowed you to make so many friends, almost considering them family throughout the years. It was a way for you to get away from your problems and immerse yourself in the competition. Most of the friends you’ve made had been through swimming, some from school, but all of you had a shared bond.
Right now you were resting after your medley relay, the rebels as you were called, had beat everyone else by a landslide. You reached over and drank from your water bottle when you heard faint screaming from the exit doors of the pool. Pulling back one of your headphones you looked around to see what the commotion was about. You couldn’t see all the way over, but you were sure it had something to do with the boy’s relays going on inside. They always were rowdy, and it didn’t help that most of the guys on your team screamed and yelled whenever they had the chance.
You shrugged and put your focus back on your game. Steady beats were playing through your headphones, you barely noticed the three boys running up to you. Suddenly a very large, and very wet body was jumping on top of you.
“Earth to (Y/N)! Why didn’t you come to watch us kick the First Orders ass?!”
You groaned and tried to pry him off of you, fuck he was huge, “Please get off me Ben,” you slapped his back in an attempt to force him up.
“You missed it,” Ben huffed into your stomach, “Matty almost false-started!”
“Is that right?” you patted Ben's shoulder, he was always the most competitive one. You glanced to your right towards the other boys. “How did you do Kylo?”
Kylo didn’t respond, only grunted towards you while grabbing his towel. He was the quietest, even though you had been around the boys for years he always kept you at arm’s length. You tried not to feel hurt by it, he seemed to do it for everyone but it still stung.
“Don’t be rude Kylo,” Matt smacked his brother’s shoulder, “He’s just grumpy that he almost lost.”
“I did not,” Kylo growled back, settling in front of you with his eyes glued to his phone.
Ben snorted, lifting his chin to settle on your sternum, “Could’ve fooled me, you almost let Hux beat you.”
Without warning, Kylo smacked Ben in the back causing Ben to muffle a scream into your suit. “What the fuck dude?” he yelled and launched off of you, tackling Kylo to the ground. They started wrestling with each other, Kylo getting Ben in a chokehold while Ben was trying to elbow him in the gut. You sighed and stared at Matt who just stood there staring at the two roll around.
When you first met the triplets, you weren’t used to the hostility between Ben and Kylo. Ben always tried to push his buttons, while Kylo tried to one-up Ben at any physical event which always led to the two of them fighting on the floor of wherever they were. Your first experience with that was when Matt had invited you over to their house to study for chemistry together. Although they were a year older than you, you and Matt had met in science class your freshman year the two of you quickly becoming good friends. Once you came over to their house you were quickly thrown against a bean bag chair by the boys who were fighting over PlayStation controllers. Needless to say, you started crying because Kylo had broken Bens’ nose and Matt was trying to calm them while also introducing you to the other two. Once they heard your tears all three of them apologized and swarmed around you, Ben and Kylo especially trying to show you that they didn’t really ‘hurt’ each other.
But now them fighting was normal, you just had to wait for one of them to run out of steam, or when Kylo eventually caused Ben to pass out. Although Kylo is the middle triplet, he is the strongest. He has the most muscle compared to the other two, although they all are exceptionally large boys for their age, Kylo looks like he could fight a bear at any given moment.
“Come on guys that’s enough,” Matt yelled, attempting to pry the two apart with his foot, “We don’t need someone telling Dad that you two can’t be civil anymore.”
Kylo pushed Ben off him, “Fine,” he pointed a finger at Ben, “This isn’t over.”
Ben rolled his eyes and brought his attention back to you, “(Y/N) big bad Kylo hurt my neck, will you kiss it better?”
“Get off me, Ben,” you chuckled, “I need to go get ready for my race.”
He huffed and rolled off you, grabbing a bag of snacks from his swim bag. You turned to your left and grabbed your cap and goggles, standing up and stretching before walking off towards the entrance doors. Kylo grabbed your ankle stopping you, “Good luck.”
You swallowed and smiled at him, “Thank you Ky.”
-----
After (Y/N) left, Ben threw a towel at Kylo’s face, “What was that about, lover boy?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he rolled his eyes and brought his attention back to his phone. He had been mindlessly scrolling since he sat down, trying to get over the embarrassment of (Y/N) seeing him freak out about almost losing. Usually, he didn’t let Ben get under his skin but whenever he provoked him in front of (Y/N) he couldn’t help himself.
Matt stood up, putting on a t-shirt and grabbing his glasses, “We better get inside, I don’t want to miss her breaking the 200 record.”
“She didn’t come to watch us swim, why should we watch her,” Ben groaned, stretching his arms before grabbing his shirt to throw on.
Kylo reached in his bag for his stopwatch, “Because she’s our friend and this is important for her, besides I’m sure you’re #1 fan will be inside too.”
“Fuck is she here? I didn’t see her at warm-ups…” Ben looked around hastily, scanning the team in case his ‘favorite’ person found him before he could duck and hide.
“Yeah,” Kylo grunted, “She cornered me this morning when I came out of the locker rooms, pretty sure she thought I was you.”
“Common mistake,” Ben laughed, grabbing Kylo and Matt’s shoulders, “You two do take after your older brother's good looks.”
“Piss off Ben, let’s go I’m sure the rest of the team is already down by her lane.”
Matt and Kylo jogged in first, with Ben trailing not far behind. Making sure to scan the crowds for any ‘danger’. Kylo spotted (Y/N) first, hollering and waving his watch in the air, receiving a large smile from her in return. “Let’s get close, that way she can see us when she turns,” Kylo said over the crowd.
Everyone was packed into the building, the crowd was screaming and cheering for the open 200. The boys maneuvered their way to the end of (Y/N) lane, pushing out other spectators and calmly hopping the barrier between the swimmers and patrons. All three were crouched down, ready to watch.
“Event 3 Women’s 200 Freestyle, Heat 4. Swimmers Step up.”
The girls hopped up, (Y/N) gave a big smile and wave to the triplets and also a thumbs up to her timers. She always was so polite even when she was racing.
“Judges and timers ready, Swimmers take your mark.”
BEEP.
The crowd erupted, they dove and everyone was shouting. Matt and Ben were hooping and hollering at (Y/N) to ‘keep a steady pace’ while Kylo stared in silence. Making sure to get the splits when she made it to the wall.
“She’s gotta kick it up, that girl to her right is already close,” Ben yelled down at Kylo.
“She’ll be fine, it's just the first lap,” Kylo grunted, getting the first lap timed.
“Have a little faith, Benny,” Matt smiled before turning back to (Y/N).
Three laps later and it was the final stretch, (Y/N) was just a little ways ahead at the wall. All three boys were screaming at her, at the turn they were right in her face. Yelling to go faster, push harder. They stood up abruptly, watching the clock to see if she was going to win.
“That’s a new record for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” the starter announced.
“Let’s go let’s go!” Matt shouted, scrambling to get around the excited spectators.
Kylo stayed quiet, he was so happy for (Y/N) but he didn’t want to show it. He would wait to talk to her alone that way Ben and Matt wouldn’t embarrass him if he stumbled over what he wanted to say. Even though he had been around her for so long, she still left him tongue-tied. She was so smart and sweet and put up with each of the triplets' moods. Not to mention she was beautiful and was always so happy to see and include him even if he was in a shitty mood. He had had a crush on her for a while now, Matt and Ben knew about it. Ben made it clear he also liked (Y/N) which was proving to decrease Kylos chances.
Kylo was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw you coming down from the lanes. Chatting with the coaches, thanking people, and crying about how excited you were. It was a big deal, you had worked so hard over the summer to beat the record. Kylo fought back a smile as you approached the boys.
“You did amazing, babygirl!” Ben shouted, lifting (Y/N) up by her armpits. Effectively crushing her face onto his cheek. “I’m so so so proud of you!”
He kissed her on the cheek, giving Kylo a side-eye before setting her back down.
Matt spoke up, wrapping his arms around (Y/N) in a much calmer fashion, “That was great, we were worried for a second that you were going to lose.”
“Glad you guys had so much faith in me,” (Y/N) huffed, she was beaming with joy. So proud of herself and happy that everyone could see her do well.
She looked up at Kylo, eyes wide and a big smile. Waiting for him to congratulate her, or say anything. Nothing would come out of his mouth, he was awestruck, and making a complete fool out of himself for the second time today.
(Y/N) nodded and crawled out of Matt’s arms, smiling and saying thank you for watching before turning to her other friends. “The fuck was that dude?!” Ben smacked Kylo upside the head. “She was waiting for you to say something!”
“You don’t have to hit me,” Kylo covered his face in his hands, “She just kept looking at me like that, I didn’t know what to say.”
“You’re ruining your chances with her if you keep acting like that,” Matt grumbled, staring off into the distance. Suddenly his eyes widened and he ducked down, “911 Ben she saw us!”
“What?!”
“Get down!”
Kylo hunched down, trying to become average height along with Matt and Ben. Blending in and attempting to make it to the exit undiscovered.
“Hey Benny,” a voice rang out in front of Kylo. “Are you hiding from me?” She smiled and pulled back on his shirt making him stand to full height.
“Wrong twin Bazine,” Kylo huffed and pointed towards the locker rooms where Ben was stalking towards.
Bazine whipped around, distrust coloring her face. For having a crush on Ben she sure wasn’t able to recognize him, making mistakes left and right between the two boys while Matt was left in the clear from her lustful gaze.
“Sorry Ky,” she flashed her teeth, “He keeps slipping from me today, didn’t even answer my texts.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
She glared at Kylo, turned and skipped off towards Ben, letting out a huge breath once she was gone.
Matt patted Kylo on the back, “One of these days she’ll get the hint.”
“Hopefully while we're still young.”
The two turned around and walked back out to the tents.
——
After your race, you were exhausted, but you were sure to say thank you and check in with your coaches and friends. Rose, Rey, and Phasma were so excited for you, they even filmed the race. Although the triplets were blocking them from getting very many action shots, they also were the loudest on the video.
You walked out towards the tents, plopping down and chugging some water. You shot a text to your parents, letting them know how you did. They weren’t there to watch you, even though they promised they would try this time. But it wasn’t a new thing, they were absent enough for it to be normal. It would be weird if they had shown up. You made sure to send them the video Rey took.
Looking up you noticed Matt and Kylo speed walking towards you, Ben nowhere to be found. Settling down in front of you, seeming to sigh in relief. “That was so close,” Matt said.
Kylo hummed and grabbed his water bottle, brushing your knee as he reached.
“Bazine find Ben?” you chucked. That poor girl. She was on the high school team before she transferred last year, she had her eyes set on the triplets. She even ‘faked’ being your friend for a while when she noticed how close you were with them. But of course Ben couldn’t keep it in his pants, and now she wouldn’t leave him alone. “It’s his fault really, he shouldn’t have led her on,” you said, grabbing a goldfish from Kylos bag.
“Hey,” he huffed, “I didn’t say those were to share.”
“It’s a swim meet Kylo, everything is to share. Now did you time my splits?”
He cleared his throat and nodded, “Uh yeah I did.”
“Wanna tell me them or am I supposed to guess?” You scooted over to his right, placing your hand on his knee. Kylo coughed and sat up straighter, showing you the stopwatch. Although he never tried to show it, he was always the most proud of you. Made sure to help you with technique, work on turns and dives, and he always would time your races even if you didn’t ask. “You did a good job,” he swallowed, “I uh, I’m sorry about earlier-“
“Why the fuck would you guys leave me with her?!” Ben shouted, pushing Kylos head down into his lap as he made it back to your group. “She fucking cornered me in the locker room! The men’s room!”
“Ben why don’t you just tell her to buzz off,” you rolled your eyes and glanced over at Kylo who was trying very hard to not knock out his brother.
“He won’t because he likes the attention,” Matt stated. Earning a glare from Ben, before he sat back and grabbed his phone from his bag.
“I don’t like the attention,” he huffed, “It’s not my fault that she’s in love with me. We barely did anything!”
“You slept with her!” Kylo shouted.
“Not right now I didn’t!”
You looked at Ben, trying to give him ‘you’re a fucking idiot face’.
Ben averted your gaze, staring off instead at Rey sitting with the other girls, “We just made out, nothing else.”
“You just made out with her?! Even though you’ve been avoiding her for a week?” you yelled. Ben clearly was not understanding that he was responsible for Bazine attachment, he kept stringing her on and when she got too close he would run away.
“Whatever I don’t need you guys to tell me what to do,” Ben said back, “Come on Kylo we have a race.”
Next to you, Kylo chucked, the two of them always raced against one another. Right now they had a 50 freestyle that was supposed to be neck and neck, however, Kylo always seemed to beat Ben no matter how hard he tried.
“Good luck,” you whispered to Kylo, “I’m rooting for you.”
Kylo smirked down at you and grabbed his stuff and left, Ben following behind him. You sighed and looked at Matt. Sweet normal Matt, he was so calm and level headed. Nothing like the other two, aside from their identical faces you could hardly believe they were related.
“Let’s go, whoever loses has to be my counter for the 500,” Matt sighed.
“You say that every time but Ben never follows through, he doesn’t have the attention span for it” you giggle, grabbing the stopwatch and running off to the lanes.
Inside is the same story, people shoving around each other. Trying to get a look at the top heats of every event. Thank goodness Matt was behind you, guiding you forward through the crowds. Ben and Kylo were side by side, Kylo lane 4, Ben 5 with Hux in lane 3. Hux was Kylos rival, or even arch enemy. They hated each other with a passion, even more than Ben and Kylo.
You got right behind the barricade, when suddenly you were lifted over it. “What are you doing Matt?!”
“It’s fine we did it earlier.” He hopped over too and stood at Bens lane. You turned and stared at the blocks. Both twins were stretching and jumping, getting ready for their sprint. You could see Ben was cracking jokes with his timers, probably making a big show about the top swimmers being brothers. While Kylo just stood and stared. You did a small wave, showing the stopwatch as he did for you earlier earning a very small smile.
“Event 8 Men’s 50 Freestyle, Heat 5. Swimmers step up.”
Up they went, strong and ready to beat the shit out of each other.
“Judges and timers ready, Swimmers take your marks.”
BEEP.
Diving in, Kylo and Ben were underwater longer than everyone else. Ben edging out ahead just a little. You and Matt were screaming, watching their every move.
At the wall you saw Kylo take his first and only breathe, shooting off the wall. Suddenly he was past Ben. Earning an almost full body length ahead of him and he glided into the opposite wall. Easily set a new record for himself and the team.
“You think he was going easy on Ben?” Matt smirked and looked at you, it was clear in the first half he wanted Ben to get tired. “Whatever the case, Kylo won’t let Ben win that easily.”
The two of you headed towards the exit, waiting for the twins. “Matt go get ready for your 500, I’ll make sure to grab the boys for you.”
“Thanks (Y/N).”
He turned and jogged out. Suddenly Bazine was at your left, her hand on your shoulder. “Can you believe Ben let Kylo win? Unacceptable,” she tsked.
Rolling your eyes you shook her hand off, “Whatever Bazine.”
Kylo and Ben came out, after shaking hands with the other competitors they were smiling and wrestling each other. Happy to have shared a good time. Once in front of you, their smiles fell slightly, probably because of the presence of Bazine.
“Awesome job guys! Matt and I were screaming for you,” you smiled and grabbed them both in a hug. Being sure to give them both attention, Ben was known to sulk whenever he lost.
Bazine rolled her eyes and pulled Ben to her arms, “Why’d you let him win baby? You’re so much better than that.” Grabbing his face and kissing the tip of his nose, you had to look away. Afraid that your temper would flare up, she was always so rude about Kylo. Even though he was nothing but ‘nice’ to her, she always tried to put him down. Ben just closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying to get her away with silence. After a moment he sighed and spoke, “I have to go.” and then pushed past Bazine.
She quickly followed Ben outside, trying to soothe his wounds. You turned and looked at Kylo who was staring at his feet. “You did a great job. Really, I even got your splits!” you smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood.
Kylo nodded and mumbled, “I should go get Matt’s stuff ready.”
“Let’s go together!” you smiled at him, slipping your hand in his while pulling him towards the lanes.
——
The rest of the meet went by smoothly, each boy winning their races. Matt especially, he was the odd one out. Only did distance races so he had his own set of rivals. But you all cheered just the same. Finally, the meet was wrapped up and you and your girlfriends were packing your bags.
“Are we all meeting for pizza?” Rose asked.
You shrugged, “I’m down if you’re down, I think we’ve earned it.”
Rey and Phasma jogged up beside you two, confirming the pizza plan. Everyone from the team was supposed to meet at the restaurant in fifteen minutes. “You guys wanna ride with me?” you said at the girls, each of them shaking their heads and proceeding to wrap up.
“I’m gonna head inside and change, see you guys there” you walked back towards the locker rooms. You looked at your phone, shooting the boys a group text about the plan.
Walking in you heard whispering, right around the corner to the men’s bathrooms. You leaned in and listened.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so weird dude.”
“I’m not acting weird!”
“Yes you are and if you can’t get it together I’m gonna swoop in.”
“That’s not fair Ben,” one of the voices silently screamed.
You peaked around the corner, huddled in a group were the triplets. Each one was already dressed down, and they were very close to fighting one another.
“I don’t give a shit anymore Kylo, I’m tired of watching you be a pussy,” Ben huffed looking up at the ceiling.
“He’s not ready Ben, don’t push him!” Matt yelled.
“He’s had years! Years of dibs!”
“Stop pushing me!” Kylo shouted, burning his face in his hands.
“If you don’t tell (Y/N) how you feel then I will.” Ben pointed at Kylo.
You cleared your throat, trying to get them to stop talking about you. Matt was the first to notice you, smacking both Kylo and Ben to shut up. Once Kylo noticed you his face went beat red, while Ben just smiled at you.
“Hey (Y/N)...” Matt waved.
You rushed into the locker room, frantically changing so you could quickly run out to your car before the boys could talk to you any further. This was going to be a long night.
TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @morby @kirah36 @reylo-trash @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @clumsycopy
I just tagged people who have liked my stuff or who I think would be interested in my garbage writing!
#adam driver#kylo ren#ben solo#matt the radar technician#charlie barber#phillip altman#flip zimmerman#solo triplets#solo#au
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Tin-Tanium, A Klaine Advent Calendar
Hi! Yeah, I decided to write all of the Klaine Advent prompts in one story going back the steps of a ten-year anniversary.
Merry Christmas, happy holidays everybody, and I hope you’ll enjoy this compilation!!
Abashed
Over ten years, there are many opportunities for a couple to embarrass themselves.
Kurt has plenty of memories that fit in that category, Blaine too.
Blaine and Kurt together, too.
Whether it’s from their early days (Kurt still can’t believe he used an entire notebook sketching their hyphenated names around hearts) or from the most recent years (Blaine prefers to hide his face in his hands rather than face the recollection of “Glitter Vampire”, no matter how many times Eliott tells him that it’s still a fan favorite), they have managed to feel abashed more often than not.
It’s not like they mind, though.
Being abashed only lasts a moment--the memory, the joy of it, that lasts forever.
Brake
Slow and steady wins the race, doesn’t it.
So, sometimes, even though neither of them wants to slow down, one of them has to pull the brakes.
Oh, it’s not always when they are tearing each other’s clothes apart, get your mind out of the gutter.
(... they do have to slow down their loving romps sometimes, but it’s rarely because they want to and more because of coitus interruptus.)
They learned how to brake to keep their paths aligned; slowing down in their own rush to get all they want out of life in order to get there together.
And winning the race of life together is the only win Kurt and Blaine are interested in.
Careless
Kurt listened attentively, when his father told him to always be careful about his husband’s needs.
Blaine listened too, when Burt told him that though Kurt doesn’t always say it aloud, he has a way of communicating his emotions that Blaine has to “listen” for.
They do care for each other, throughout the years.
But.
But as careful as they are, or try to be, they can also behave in a careless way.
Though they always try their best, neither Kurt nor Blaine can avoid letting their worst lashing out.
Eventually, though, they learn the real lesson behind Burt’s words:
It’s not about never hurting each other--it’s about being able to heal from that hurt together, to talk about it and grow from it, together.
Dispensable
Every Spring, Blaine has the same problem.
Well it’s a problem for Kurt, anyway.
The moment the weather turns for the slightly better, Blaine turns himself into a white tornado, cleaning the apartment from floor to ceiling.
And, without fail, he always tries to hunt for the Dispensables.
“Why, pray tell, is this pile entirely composed of things from *my* side of the closet?”
“Because *you* have almost everything in duplicates.”
“They are collectors! If I ever use them or damage them, I will have a replacement.”
“They are taking too much room!”
“Not as much as your collection of cameras!”
“How dare you.”
“How dare you.”
Blaine pauses, holding a scarf in one hand and an empty cardbox in the other, before bursting into a fit of laughter.
“Maybe I overdid my impression of Marie Kondo.”
“And maybe I do have a hoarding problem.”
“Maybe we could do that sorting together.”
“Maybe we could find something else to do with all that free time.”
Blaine drops the box on the floor and carefully folds the scarf on the back of the couch.
“I like the way you think.”
“You even put a ring on it.”
Event
One lesson the Hummel-Anderson household always applies: make an event out of every possible situation.
During the first years, it does make sense. They celebrate their successes, their achievements, as one does.
Then, it grows into something almost like a private joke between them: every little source of happiness becomes the reason for a party, a true event, even if it’s just opening a bottle of champagne while they sit on the floor, munching on a bag of chips, just because there is a Golden Girls marathon.
Because when you find things to celebrate with the person you love most, the sad things are just a little bit less sad.
Farm
Blaine wakes up in a jolt, something pulling at his unconscious mind to pull him from his dream.
Maybe it’s the cold spot in the bed next to him, or maybe it’s the grumbling sound coming from the living room.
“Kurt?”
“...”
“Kurt what are you doing?”
“Nothing?”
Blaine comes closer, and Kurt is sitting on the couch with his laptop on his bare knees.
“Are you watching porn? ‘Cause you know you wouldn’t have to hide it from me.”
“Not porn.”
“Okay?”
Kurt closes his eyes before looking away, turning the laptop’s screen toward Blaine. “Don’t laugh.”
“Why would I--oh.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t expect that.”
“I know.”
“Farming Simulator 2010, that’s …”
“I know.
“... vintage, is what I was going to say. Any particular reason you needed to play that game at 2.14 AM?”
Kurt sighs, leaning his head into Blaine’s torso, now that Blaine stands closer. “It relaxes me.”
“Okay.”
“And I have been very tense.”
“Don’t need to tell me.”
“I know; so I wanted to unwind on my own to be a better husband.”
Blaine bends over to press a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head. “Farm away, darling.”
Grey
TW: anxiety
Most of the time, with the help of his therapist and different techniques he has developed over the years, Blaine can keep his anxiety at bay.
But some mornings, it’s not as easy.
Some mornings, the anxious little voice telling him he’s not worth the space he occupies is the loudest in his mind the moment he wakes up.
Some mornings, the sighting of grey skies without even a spot of blue can send him into a downward spiral he can’t seem to shake out of.
But with each passing year, Kurt becomes more attuned to the little physical signs Blaine’s anxiety lets out.
The tension in his shoulders, even as he wakes up, to which Kurt responds by closing his arms around Blaine’s upper body, forcing him to breathe with him until the tension melts away.
The way Blaine doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look directly at Kurt, to which Kurt responds by putting a cup of coffee in front of him and by kissing his temple.
Yes, Blaine’s anxiety is always around.
But with Kurt’s help, Blaine can keep it at bay.
History
Though they share a love for musicals, Kurt and Blaine don’t always have their obsessions in sync.
Unfortunately, it sometimes clashes.
Fortunately, the married couple has found a solution to keep from fighting over songs.
Medleys meet the Exquisite Corpse.
“I don't wanna talk
About things we've gone through
Though it's hurting me
Now it's history”, Blaine sings.
“History has its eyes on youuuu,” Kurt responds.
“You can dance
You can jive
Having the time of your life
See that girl
Watch that scene
Dig in the dancing queeeeeeen.”
“Hey not fair, there is no queen in Hamilton!”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps insisting that Eliza is Queen!”
“True.”
Inconclusive
Around the seventh year mark, they wonder if they should … well, expand their couple’s horizon.
It’s a secret to none of their friends that the Anderson-Hummel have insane chemistry with one Starchild.
One evening, using the pretext of celebrating the comeback of the cronut on the foodie scene with one too many bottle of champagne, the three of them end up in bed together.
Some lubricant, condoms, giggles and panted names later, Kurt looks over the stunned figure of their friend to brush his fingers through Blaine’s sweaty curls.
“So?”
“Inconclusive.” Blaine sighs. “Yet.”
Eliot snorts between them. “Round number …?”
“Who’s counting?”
Join
A good way to keep the spark in its first meet glow is also to surprise each other.
One evening, Blaine comes home to Christmas lights suspended in the whole apartment.
“What the …”
“Welcome, sir,” Kurt says, wearing the Ringmaster’s outfit from his run as Barnum in Broadway’s Greatest Showman. “Would you join me for a very special evening?”
“I would,” Blaine says, smiling as he puts his hand in Kurt’s, and feeling his cheeks burning when Kurt brushes his lips against Blaine’s knuckles.
The evening is very special, Blaine tied to the armchair while Kurt takes off his whole outfit and feeds him bits of cheese and fruits and toasted bread.
Knit
“I’m bored.”
“I know. Why don’t you learn a craft?”
“Remember the last time I tried to learn a craft, like you put it?”
They both turn to the potter’s wheel they recycled into a coffee table. “Right. Maybe something less …”
“Space consuming?”
“Complicated.”
“What about knitting?”
“There’s an idea.”
--
Two days later
“Wha--”
“What?”
“Mon chéri, when we said knitting, I thought it would involve a couple of yarn balls and some needles.”
“This is yarn.”
“No, it’s not.”
Yes it is.
Learn
In a couple, some things come naturally, as easy as breathing.
Loving each other, for example.
For Kurt and Blaine, it’s knowing that whatever the storm, the tide will always bring them back together.
And some things are learned, through time and Life lessons.
What to cook as comfort food, for example.
For Kurt and Blaine, it’s finding out that they needed to be apart to be better for each other.
Some lessons are hard-learned, but eventually, they feel like they have always been known.
Meet
Dan is ready to slip under the table to take his ritual Christmas nap when Cecilia asks the question.
“How did you two meet?”
Now, all Dan can do is groan. “Nooo,” he moans, “why did you ask that?”
“Excuse you,” Kurt says, ruffling his son’s hair. “Don’t you like the way we met?”
“I heard that story at least 221 times,” he says, dropping his head to the table. “Besides, it’s just weird, when you think about it.”
Cecilia cocks one eyebrow at him. “Now you have to tell me.”
“Let me--”
Dan holds up his hand to stop his father in his tracks. “Nah, nah, nah, let me, because they will tell you that it’s so romantic, but in reality, Dad went to spy on Papa and Papa lied to Dad about a shortcut …”
Nip
“What is that thing sitting in that... thing?”
“That is a cat and she is sitting in a basket I knitted, thank you very much.”
“Since when do we have a cat?”
“Since Mrs Gimm’s had a litter and this one picked me.”
“Ah.”
“She went for me like she always knew me.”
“Aww.”
“And then she nipped my fingers.”
“That explains the band-aids.”
“Maybe.”
“So you decided to bring a feral cat into our house with a newborn because the only thing you knitted is that basket?”
“Feral, come on, maybe that’s an overkill, look how sweet she--Ouch!”
“Here, another kitten band-aid. Let me try.”
“Oh right, you’re a big beast tamer, right?”
“...”
“Is that her purring?”
“Either she’s purring or the neighbor just started a plane engine.”
“Oh yes, you’re purring, you little princess you …”
“Ahem.”
Opinion
Any couple counsellor will tell you this:
If you want a relationship to last, the most important thing to do is compromise, to make sure that both parties are happy.
Any couple will tell you this:
Some opinions are better than others. The only thing you can do, before choosing a hill to die on, is take a step back, breathe in and out a couple of times and--
“That’s so stupid it’s a wonder you can still breathe and talk at the same time!”
“I can’t believe you actually think that! What’s between your ears, lukewarm water?”
--start World War Three over the importance of the Beatles versus the Rolling Stones, I guess.
Possible
More seriously though, finding a middle ground is important, in any relationship. And the way to that middle ground can sometimes be summarized in one word.
“Possibility.”
Do you think you could agree to let me cook tonight, even though you say I burn everything?
Maybe.
May I buy regular milk instead of almond, because it gives me stomach aches?
You may.
Isn’t it your turn to change Kitty’s litter?
...Possible.
In just a few words, you can save your relationship from self-destructing, isn’t that something?
Remarkable
Over the years, through thick and thin, through storms and easy flows, the relationship formed by Kurt and Blaine only strengthens.
A fact that seems remarkable for a lot of their friends.
Their New York friends, I should say, since their Ohioan friends are not surprised to see them growing only stronger and more in love as time passes by, leaving them more united than they ever were when they were younger.
Is their relationship remarkable? Of course.
But not because they still look at each other with sparkles in their eyes, especially when they think nobody is watching.
No, it’s spectacular because it reminds everyone lucky enough to be with them that Love does exist.
Sisters
Over the years, Kurt and Blaine consider that they are the ones lucky enough to have been graced by the many women who entered their lives and remained there as chosen sisters.
Mercedes, Tina, Santana, even Rachel, of course, soul sisters who were meant to support them and challenge them to become better men.
Marley, Unique, Kitty, Jane--younger sisters who help both men to grow into mentors and future parents for Cecilia.
Lissa, Annie, Agnes--sisters of all ages who learn from them and teach them in return what they learned during their own lives until they met the couple.
Glee Club had taught them that family didn’t have to be born from blood, but life brought them a constellation of sisterhood that surrounds them and protects them, in a way, from themselves, from ever thinking they cannot get better.
Tub
“Blaine, I know that you’re really going Method for that role, but could you stop with the 1980, 1990 lingo?”
“As if!”
Kurt sighs before deciding to move on. “Do you like that ice cream? It’s from the new shop down the block.”
“It’s da bomb, hubby.”
“‘Da bomb’, really?”
Blaine has the decency to look slightly bashful. “Overdoing it?”
“Just a tad.”
“I’ll keep it to the theater, then.”
“Tubular.”
Ugly
When one uses his body as its professional tool, one is very peculiar about the way they see themselves.
And sometimes, as strong-minded the individual may be, societal expectations can become too heavy.
“Now I get it. I don’t get parts because I’m ugly.”
“Who said that?”
Kurt slams the bathroom cupboard closed, shaking his head at his own reflection. “I don’t need anyone to say it,” he seethes, “it’s obviously why none of the directors I auditioned for ever called back!”
Blaine comes to lean against the bathroom’s door frame. “Kurt …”
Kurt bends his head. “Blaine, don’t start. I know, deep down, that it’s not the reason, and that I’m not ugly. But right now,” he adds, turning his head toward Blaine without meeting his gaze, “that knowledge is buried deep, deep down.”
“Okay.” Blaine stretches close to Kurt, pecking his cheek. “Take all the time you want. But if you need my help digging for proof that you are quite the opposite of ugly, I’m right here. If you want to mull over it in silence, I can let you do it, and just stay here by your side, or walk around the block.”
“No. Stay.” Kurt finally looks up, leaning his forehead against Blaine’s. “I don’t feel so bad when you’re around.”
Vanish
Sometimes, when you are a couple of married actors, you have to accept that your husband is going to get a job when you don’t.
“I got the job!”
“See, I knew you were going to get a break! Which job?”
“The ad one!”
Blaine cocks his head to the side. “Which one? The one for the hotels?”
“No, the one for the detergent. You know, the pink one?”
“Vanish?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Kurt chuckles. “I should try and remember it before the shoot!”
“I’m very proud of you,” Blaine says, pulling Kurt against him for a kiss. “Want to rehearse your text?”
“I would, if you weren’t unbuckling my be-hey!”
“Look, I can make your pants just … vanish.”
“You’re terrib--oh, wow.”
Worthless
Along the years, along the moves, along the different steps in Life, people gather things.
Not necessarily the most expensive things in the world, just mementos.
Little things, really, that most people would discard as just worthless junk.
But for Blaine, for Kurt, those little things are more precious than any of the things they bought once they started to get financially comfortable.
Like ticket stubs and Playbills from the shows they saw together.
Or like a ring made out of gum wrappers.
Yard
Speaking of financial comfort.
Once they became a household name, and once their student loans were reimbursed, both Blaine and Kurt agree.
If they are to be a family, if they are to raise a kid (or many), they need to buy a house.
It takes them a while, but they manage to save enough money to put the down payment on a cute little house in Jericho, a house with a luxurious yard where Kitty Cat can pretend to be the tiger she once was, and where their babies will be free to climb the trees and run around and drive their little bicycles or whatever.
“Quite the white picket fence, Hummel.”
“Anderson Hummel, and yes, so what.”
Santana rubs her very round belly. “Not complaining, nor criticizing. Just observing. I didn’t picture you as Wisteria Lane-adjacent.”
Kurt shrugs. “Nothing Desperate about wanting a good environment to raise a family.”
Zealous
As they reach their tenth year anniversary, Kurt and Blaine feel like they have reached a point in their relationship where their ship is sailing on its own, so to speak.
They have found their groove, they can still surprise each other while knowing each other’s habits and needs, and they have their baby.
Who cries every night.
Blaine is at his wits end looking for a solution to soothe his son’s teething pain, but nothing works.
Or so it seems.
“This here's a tale for all the fellas
Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us
Get shot down 'cause you're over zealous
Play hard to get, females get jealous …”
The sound of the song is the only sound around the house.
No cries, no whimpers.
Just Kurt, apparently “bursting a move”.
“Kurt?”
The song stops, along with one of Dan’s hiccups that announce a storm.
“Keep going, keep going!”
Kurt hesitantly returns to the song, coming into view as he bounces Dan in his arms.
“Young MC, really?”
In the same melody, Kurt replies between his teeth. “I don’t know what came over me, but I just started singing while he was crying and he sto-opped.”
“Magic.”
“Quite.”
“We need to give our thanks to Shuester, uh?”
“Over my dead body.”
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Sunrise
Sitting outside last night and hearing the sounds of cicadas screaming inspired me dvkkhdf
______________ᬉིུ֛ ⃝📖 ⃝ ꦿꦶ⟆ׇࣱ ______________
Tag list:
@abandonedhearts
((want to be on the tag list? Drop me a message!))
The droning sound of cicadas echoed around the trees that surrounded camp as the stars above shimmered like embers of a dying fire. The stone was cold as Ollie sat on it, dangling her legs over the edge as they listened to the rush of the river below. Horseshoe Overlook was much prettier than their temporary home in the snow, and she almost wished they could stay.
She was so lost in thought that she almost didn't hear the soft footsteps in the damp grass. A gravelly, sleep-riddle voice spoke gently behind them, pulling them out of their memories.
"Whatcha doin' up? Ain'tcha cold?"
Ollie looked over her shoulder to see the slouching form of Arthur, rubbing his eyes as he leaned all his weight on one hip. They could tell he had just woken up and wasn't fully awake yet. She patted the spot next to her, offering it as a seat to him which he accepted. Once he was seated Ollie offered some of her blanket that was wrapped snugly around their shoulders to the sleepy man. Arthur scooted close, pressing his side against hers as he pulled what little blanket he could around his other shoulder.
"I'm a li'l cold, but this blanket feels good. Plus you're a walkin' furnace, Mr. Morgan." She smiled as he elbowed him. "What are you doin' up? It's almost sunrise."
"Dunno," his deep voice rumbled in his chest as his eyes unfocused while looking at the valley before him. "Woke up, looked around, saw ya sittin' here alone and wanted to make sure you're alright."
Ollie couldn't help the flutter in her chest. Sure, they had a crush on him but she assumed that he wouldn't like her back, so hearing he was worried made her smile. "I'm just thinkin'. Sometimes I miss 'em, ya know? My family? Wonder what they're doin'." She sighed heavily before continuing, "I left without tellin' 'em. Packed my bag, grabbed what money I could, some food, and Sugar Cube and left. Never looked back."
"Why'd'ya leave? If you don't mind my asking," Arthur questioned, leaving the conversation open in case she didn't want to speak further. He was watching her from the corner of his eye and felt his heart sink a little at the sight of a tear slipping out.
"We was bad people, Arthur. My pa? Struck rich with gold in California. Moved to Nevada, set up a homestead. Stupid man flaunted his money and ended up hiring a local gang for 'protection'. Ended up deciding he needed more land, and that gang? Well, started wrestlin' up land and livestock from honest folks. His greed made him hungry for something that could never be satisfied." Ollie sighed again as she stared past the trees, eyes focused on memories of the past. "Couldn't stand it no more, especially when he hit me. Tried to tell him he was a greedy bastard, he called me ungrateful and said I'd never see a cent of his money. Hit me so hard I fell against the wall. And my ma? She ain't stop him. She ain't even cry. Waited till they was asleep, grabbed my things and my horse, and left."
The heaviness of their story settled in Arthur's stomach like a stone, his heart aching. His life hadn't been any easier, but hearing other's stories always hurt. Without thinking, he snaked his arm around their back and settled his large palm on her hip and pulled her closer. Ollie leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as she willed the tears to stop. It had been the first time in years she had talked about her family, and now here she was crying like a fool in front of the man she looked up to the most.
Arthur broke the silence first. "Is that why you was fightin' folks in that bar all those years ago? When Hosea and I found you?"
"Yeah," she sniffled. "Drunken old fool was talking about how he swindled a poor old couple outta a few cows. Couldn't handle it, so I stole his cows and returned 'em. Went back to the bar, heard him talkin' 'bout how his cows were gone. Said it was me, and he was a sorry sack o' shit. That's when he punched me, and I-"
"You broke his nose, I remember. That was the moment we walked into the bar," Arthur interrupted. "Hosea and I heard the shoutin' and decided to see if anything interesting was happenin' and we walked in just to see your fist connect with his face. Ain't he split your lip?"
Ollie giggled at the memory, the moment her life changed forever. "Yeah, that's where this scar came from."
"Which one? I can't see."
"This one, here," she replied as she turned her head towards Arthur, only to freeze as they realized just how close he was leaning. "S-see?"
"Nah, hold on. Lemme see," Arthur smirked as he closed the distance, kissing her softly. His lips were just as burning warm as the rest of him, yet it sent shivers down her spine. His hand on their hip pulled her even closer as he deepened the kiss. Finally breaking it to breathe, Ollie's cheeks were a deep shade of red that was mirrored on Arthur's. "Been wantin' t'do that for a while, now."
"Really?" She asked, blinking a few time as she turned the words over and over in her mind.
"Yeah, you're just so Goddamn beautiful. Knew you was something special the moment I saw ya, and I'm just sorry it took me so long to say somethin'." Arthur avoided her questioning gaze sheepishly. "Sorry if you don't like me, you just looked so damn cute, an' I felt bad, I couldn't think of anything to cheer you up-"
"Arthur Morgan," Ollie interrupted as she grabbed his chin. "You talk entirely too much." Before he could protest, she kissed him deeply, releasing his chin to rest their hand on his scruffy cheek.
Ollie broke the kiss this time, smiling up at the outlaw who looked more like a lovesick schoolboy. The sun was just starting to rise, casting bright pink ribbons across the skies as the birds began their morning medley. Placing one last kiss on his nose, she turned and snuggled into his side, resting her hand on his as they watched the sun awaken. It was the dawn of a new day, both for the world and for the two of them, and neither one couldn't wait to see where it takes them.
#star in the northern sky#peach smoothies#adhd selfship#pan selfship#nd selfship#selfship#selfshipping#okay to rb!#okay to interact!#me? using my pronouns? more likely than you think
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Medley (pt. 2)
Summary: You’re a star swimmer on your high-school team, but so is Jeon Jungkook. What will this mean for your chemistry in and out of the pool?
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Fluff, swimmer!jungkook
Word Count: 1.8k
A/N: Tried to show a lot more of Y/N’s thoughts in this one, hope it’s not too uninteresting! I think the ending is so cringe and funny lolol I’m so sorry
The steam from your scorching shower followed you out of the bathroom, and you took the few steps you needed to reach your bedroom. There you picked up your hairbrush and slowly started combing out the knots that towel-drying your hair caused. You looked through your mirror and imagined Jungkook sitting on the couch behind that wall, watching a program on your TV, his doe eyes transfixed by the images moving on the large screen. He was probably watching a documentary on sea animals, knowing his obsession with the filmography typically portrayed in those kinds of programs. Or maybe he was watching a cooking show since he loved food and learning how to cook new dishes. You have learned these things about Jungkook over the past few years, as you’ve known him from freshman year until now, your last year in high school.
You considered blow-drying your hair and adding more damage to it after the chlorine from the pool. Deciding against it on top of being lazy, you threw it into a wet bun on top of your head. It was a little lopsided, but it was just Jungkook you were seeing, not the Queen of England. Reminded of the former, you looked at your post-workout outfit, leggings and a college T-shirt that ended where your leggings began. After pouting at your unimpressive appearance, you left your room to meet Jungkook.
The lanky, black-haired boy was leaning against the couch with one leg stuck out and the other tucked up to his chest. Like you expected, he was staring intently at the screen, watching some sea turtles glide through the water. The narrator’s serene voice seemed to be the only thing he heard because he didn’t turn around at the sound of your bedroom door closing.
You plopped down on the couch he was leaning against and fluffed his hair. It was almost dry since swim practice. The strands felt clumpy from all the chlorine, and the movement of his hair let the pool smell reach your nose. For some reason, you loved the smell of the pool. Good feelings and memories were associated with it, so it was a calming scent for you. It always made you think of competing and was even sometimes able to get your heartbeat racing. You got distracted from your brief reverie when Jungkook looked up at you from his spot on the floor with a mischievous look in his eye.
“Are you finally done?” he asked teasingly. You pushed his shoulder in response and smiled. While being playful, he still looked so innocent with his orbs for eyes. Moving to stand, he questioned, “Can I go now?”
You pointed to the closet doors next to the bathroom. “The towels are in there. You can use whichever one you want. Except the Lilo and Stitch one, that one is special.” Lilo and Stitch being one of your favorite movies, you felt particularly possessive over that towel and didn’t want anyone else using it. If someone did end up using it, however, you’d get over it, unless it was your little brother. A freshman in high school, Chris still did any tiny thing to rub you the wrong way, and it worked every time.
Jungkook chuckled, his bones cracking as he stretched his back. “All right, so I can’t use whichever one I want,” he contradicted. “Got it.” You watched him waddle over to the closet, pick a purple towel, and disappear into the bathroom. The water began running, and you turned your head to the TV to see a school of fish wandering around a reef.
It would be nice to be a fish in some ways. Always in the water, possibly friends with a shark, sleeping with your eyes open. But fish also have to deal with people without likely understanding what’s going on. Regardless of not having a complex mind like humans, it probably still doesn’t feel great having your home taken over by trash and nets.
Picking up the remote, you browse the selections on Netflix. It was always hard choosing a show to watch since you were very indecisive and struggled to commit to a program. A lot of time had passed, and you hadn’t even settled on a show when suddenly, a door behind you opened, causing you to look over your shoulder.
Jungkook was standing there, a towel wrapped haphazardly around his lean waist, his arm half-covering his chest. Droplets of water were falling from his damp hair onto his broad shoulders, running down his torso toward the top of the towel. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Sorry, uh, I forgot my clothes.” He walked toward you and picked up his bag, digging through it to locate fresh clothes. You realized you had been staring, so your head snapped to the TV to see that you had accidentally clicked on a show involving a dessert competition. Straining to look interested in the pies that had just been introduced, you felt your heart beating in your ears and hoped he didn’t hear it too.
He found what he was looking for and trotted back to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Sheesh, what does he think I’m going to do, just barge in there? you thought to yourself. The pastry chefs on the TV began talking about what they would put in their pies, which made you lose your train of thought, focused only on desserts.
The now-clothed boy joined you on the couch this time, dressed in black sweatpants and a loose white T-shirt. No matter how dressed down he was, Jungkook could make anything look good. After getting himself comfortable, he grinned. “Can I stay and watch some TV with you, Y/N?”
Jungkook sometimes hung out with you at your house, whether you were having a meal, playing games, listening to music, or watching TV. He got along well with your parents, so you didn’t think it would be a big deal if he stayed today as well.
“Have I ever said no to you, JK?” you joked, crossing your arms.
Jungkook’s face scrunched up as he thought about it. Honestly, there weren’t many times you said no to that kid. Every time you played Ultimate Ninja Storm, he got to play your favorite character, Sasuke, while you got stuck with someone who wasn’t your main. When you were showing each other music, he often had more turns than you did, getting to jam to his songs more than you could listen to yours. When your dad was cooking steak, Jungkook got the second-biggest cut (after your dad, of course). When you watched TV together, he always picked the program, which was actually okay with you, since you never knew what to watch anyway. Needless to say, Jungkook couldn’t come up with an answer and just shrugged, to which you stuck your tongue out.
“I’m sure there are things you would say no to,” he said. “Like, ‘Wanna race me in fly?’”
Your jaw dropped in mock horror. “First of all, how dare you say that word in my house. Second of all, that’s not even my stroke! Beat me in breaststroke, then we’ll talk.”
A lot of your banter revolved around swimming since both of your lives were so centered around it. You’d met on the day of the tryouts for the swim team, both nervous for what had turned out to be a piece of cake. The two of you had gotten to know each other since you were placed in the same lane with many of the older swimmers. Even at a young age, fresh to the high-school swim team, you were still respected by your senior teammates. Thankfully, there wasn’t an atmosphere of jealousy or envy but of teamwork despite the age differences between you and Jungkook and the veterans in your lane.
Jungkook’s face lost the playfulness it held moments ago. He looked at you with an intensity that you only saw at swim meets. His fingers were playing with the hem of his shirt as he looked between you and the TV, which had turned into mere background noise. His eyebrows came together, and he let out a breath through his nose. After seeming to ponder something for what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. “Would you say no to being my girlfriend?”
Your senses seemed to falter then. You could no longer hear the pastry chefs worrying about the time they had left to complete the challenge. You couldn’t feel the remote still in your hand. You couldn’t see the rest of your living room in your periphery. All you could see was Jungkook, your teammate, your best friend, sitting cross-legged in front of you on the couch, staring at you with a nervous look on his face.
You looked down at your hands in your lap, wondering how to even respond to a question like that that came out of left field. “Well…I think my dad would feel differently about a boyfriend being here unsupervised,” you blurted out. Dumbass, you mentally scolded yourself. “What I mean by that is…I don’t think I’d say no…” you said slowly, looking up from your lap.
In the span of a few seconds, Jungkook’s expression went from nervous to blank to smug. A sly smile crept over his face. He leaned closer toward you. “So that means…?”
You rolled your eyes, a common occurrence when Jeon Jungkook was around. If you dated him, would your eyes eventually roll out of your head? Laughing at both the thought and him, you nodded your head and assured him, “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”
At this, he shot up from the couch and did a little dance, swinging his hands above his head and spinning in a circle, his eyes closed and his smile showing brightly. After a few spins, he came to a halt in front of you, towering over your small form on the couch. Jungkook leaned down and took your hands from your lap.
“Y/N, we are finally going to be the swim team’s power couple.”
“Oh my god, I say I’ll be your girlfriend, and all you can think about is being a power couple on the swim team?!” You beat your closed fists against his chest lightly, and he grabbed them, holding them tightly in place. He took the opportunity to quickly close the space between you, his lips touching your forehead for a moment. Immediately, your stomach did backflips, and you tried to control the smile on your face before he pulled away.
“Did you mishear me?” he asked, sitting back down next to you on the couch. He took your hand in his. “I said the swim team’s power couple.”
#bts#bangtansonyeondan#bts fluff#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook fluff#omfg so dumb but idc#jungkook x reader
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Hey!Say!JUMP 2019 in Taipei - Reports from various newspapers
Notes:
I was going to do this back in October when it was more timely but I was going nuts trying to organize all the articles in some semblance of order. Why now then? The concert DVD’s will be released on August 5! A digest version of the Taipei concert will be included in LE 1. According to the fans, they only cut 3 songs (and probably a lot if not all of the MC).
This article was translated mainly from the Apple Daily article, but I filled in the details from other articles, con reports, and news clips.
Johnny's group Hey!Say!JUMP held their first concert in Taiwan in 7 years. The 9 members of Hey!Say!JUMP are Yabu Kota, Takaki Yuya, Inoo Kei, Yaotome Hikaru, Arioka Daiki, Okamoto Keito (studying abroad), Yamada Ryosuke, Nakajima Yuto, and Chinen Yuri. For two days, they took over the Taipei Arena and were greeted with great enthusiasm: the 22,000 tickets sold out immediately, with the 2 performances grossing 58M TWD in ticket sales.
The concert was not just attended by local Taiwanese fans, the Japanese fans also formed their own tour groups to go to the concert, and you could find fans from many countries like China, Thailand, etc… Wu Chun, who co-starred with Yamada Ryosuke and Arioka Daiki, sent flowers to congratulate them on opening night. They also arranged a lot of "Taiwan limited events" for the local fans, such as opening a pop up shop, releasing 2 songs on streaming services, as well as a collaboration with Line Poko Poko.
2 minute digest video here.
Opening Introduction
As the LED sign of Hey!Say!JUMP's name rose to the top, the 8 members appeared on stage donned in sparkling suits in their own members' colour. The 11,000 fans switched on their penlights to their biases’ colour and turned the arena into a spectacle of lights.
Yamada shouted "Are you ready!!!!" Takaki* (or Arioka & Chinen) said in Mandarin, "Are you having fun? OK, we are having fun too. Taiwan! Welcome to our concert!" The other members didn't want to lose to each other and they all chimed in with their newly learned Chinese phrases like "you guys are super cute", "sing along with us" , "please sit" or “let me hear you scream”. They started with a performance of “Arigatou~ Sekai no doko ni itemo”, a song that included lyrics in many languages, such as “Thank you” in Manadarin.
* The Taiwanese media could not tell some of the members apart, so certain quotes were attributed to multiple members. I used 1 and put the other possibilities in brackets. I suppose we will find out when we watch the DVD.
When it was time to introduce themselves, they did not forget to flirt with and charm their fans in Mandarin. Yabu Kota started by saying “We’ve learned a bit* of Chinese. Please bear with us as we are not very good. How are you, I am Yabu Kota. We’ve let you wait for too long. Friends in the back, I can see you clearly!”
* Another article said we’ve spent a year learning Chinese. That’s what I heard from the news clips too, but either is possible because of his pronunciation. 😅 我們學了一點 (yī diǎn)中文 vs. 我們學了一年 (yī nián) 中文.
Hikaru Yaotome continued, “I remember the last time we came here. Let us melt your hearts.”
Takaki Yuya also shouted, “I really really missed you guys.”
Inoo Kei, who wasted no time telling the fans they were cute made a “shocking” declaration. “You are all our girlfriends. Can my girlfriends on the left hear me? How about my girlfriends on the right? ” Then he put his arms around Chinen Yuri and said, “But my real girlfriend is…” and trailed off, leaving the fans to draw their own conclusions.
Chinen Yuri was worried that the fans did not recognize him, so he kept asking “Do you know me? Do you know me? Really?” When he heard the affirmative responses, he said, “I like you very much! Thank you.”
Meanwhile Yamada Ryosuke tried a different strategy and used Taiwanese to tell everyone in the audience that they were cute*. However, his pronunciation was quite off so nobody understood what he said and the response was very tentative. He panicked and kept repeating the phrase*, when Chinen finally asked him to clarify. Yamada said “You’re cute” in Japanese and that was met with kyaa’s. Nevertheless, his failed attempt brought a lot of joy to the audience.
* Cute in Taiwanese is 古錐 (Actual pronunciation). 😅
Finally, Nakajima Yuto used both Mandarin and English to address the audience. “It’s been a long time. We are so happy to see you again. We’ve been waiting to see you again for 7 years since we came here last time. For 7 years. Our dream to come back here has finally come true. We are so glad.” (Source: a clip from a Taiwan TV entertainment show.)
You can watch some of the exchanges here.
There were many familiar songs on the set list but with a Taiwanese twist. For example, in Kimi Attraction, the members mugged the camera and acted cool as usual. At the end, Chinen said “As expected, Taiwan is No. 1.” Inoo added in Mandarin, “So cute!”
They also brought back the "flying circle" from the stage show “SUMMARY”, which was something they had not performed for years. Dressed in white, they quickly hooked each other up to the harnesses and held each others’ hands as they flew, their capes flowing gracefully as they twirled to the music while they sang “Born in the EARTH”, the audience went wild. The rest of the concert was filled with effects like confetti, smoke, dry ice, and gin tape. It was a spectacle.
MC
Just before the end of the first half, the 8 members were chatting with fans and each other on stage. When they found out a lot of them attended their concert at Nangang 101* 7 years ago, they immediately said “Thank you” in Chinese. They then asked each other (in Mandarin), “Do you have a smartphone?” Nakajima also asked the audience, “What kind of group is Hey!Say!JUMP?”
* Nangang 101 was a small concert hall that has since been demolished. From what I heard, it was actually a pretty bad location. Supposedly, Taipei Arena is a much nicer space.
At this time, it looked like Yamada was going to introduce each member, but all he did was point at each one and said “他很帥! (He is handsome)”. When it was Arioka’s turn, Yamada pointed at him and said, “他是笨蛋! (He is an idiot)”. Arioka, who didn’t know the Mandarin for “idiot”, immediately asked, “Hey, the word you used to describe me is different from the others!” The audience roared.
After Yamada introduced everybody, Chinen introduced Yamada* with “他是...我的錢包. (He is my... wallet.)” Yamada clarified, “不是,我是...銀行! (No, I am... the bank!)”
*This is not in any of the news articles, but the Taiwanese fans won’t shut up about it, so I’ll add it here. Either the whole thing was in Mandarin or it’s a mix of Japanese and Mandarin. I have no clue but at least “wallet” and “bank” were in Manadrin.
Meanwhile, out of nowhere, Chinen showed off the line he learned and said, “I will not make the same mistake next time”*. The members were completely baffled by that.
* When Yabu, Yuto, and Chi went to Taipei for the press conference, they appeared on a number of TW entertainment shows and were taught a bunch of “useful” Mandarin phrases. I think this was one of the lines.
They also remembered to advertise the pop-up shop. Since the members arrived a day earlier in Taipei, they secretly visited the pop up shop to check it out and signed the poster. The members teased Yamada, the spokesperson for Lachesca cleansing product, and said “The shop is filled with Yamada.” At this time, Yamada brought out all the products and promoted them to the audience. Nakajima added, “If you use this, you will have the same soft skin as Yamada!” Yabu said, “I heard a lot of items that were sold out will be restocked tomorrow. Please go check them out.”
They also promoted the Line Poko Poko game they were repping. Takaki jokingly said, “Yesterday, I went to the sauna. Just when I was very relaxed, I suddenly saw our ad on TV. It was a bit embarrassing.” They also revealed that the stickers were designed by Yaotome Hikaru and even used Mandarin to say “Go download it.” Indeed, they were good spokespersons.
Second Half
After a short intermission, the second half of the concert began. The members changed into purple Japanese outfits for the “Wa” corner, with Nakajima on taiko and Yaotome playing shamisen. The “Wa” corner was reminiscent of senpai Domoto Koichi’s musical, “SHOCK”. Each member performed a series of fan dance and ribbon dance, set to a rearranged version of “Over” and “Give Me Love”, etc. The background also changed throughout the set into various Japanese motifs. During “Give Me Love”, Yamada and Chinen grabbed the white ribbons and started flying on stage with no safety harnesses. The audience was shocked and awed.
As the main part of the concert came to an end, the audience was treated to a highlight video of HSJ’s last Taipei concert 7 years ago, giving them a chance to reminisce. They changed into sparkly gold outfits and sang a 12-song medley of their hit singles, including their debut song “Ultra Music Power”, “Mayonaka no Shadow Boy”, “Mae wo muke”, etc., while… you guessed it… flying through the air again! They finished with “White Love”, their single from the previous year, but to the audience’s surprise, they sang the last half of the song in Taiwanese (correctly pronounced apparently)! The audience completely lost it with excitement at this point.
「White Love」（台語版）：
若有一天會實現
咱兩人永遠做伙的彼個夢
妳就是唯一願望
妳是我的從今以後的未來
最後一擺的戀愛
我的愛乎妳一個
獻予妳全心全意的一個人
我的心愛妳到底
我愛妳 遮愛妳
全世界只有妳一人
我愛妳 遮愛你
妳是我永遠註定的命運
上愛的故事
“White Love” (Taiwanese version)
If it comes true one day,
That dream where we are together forever,
Then I only wish for you,
You are my future from now on.
My last love story,
I give my love only to you,
To you, who love me wholeheartedly.
In my heart, I will love you till the end.
I love you, I love you very much,
There’s only you in the whole world.
I love you, I love you very much,
You are my destiny,
The best love story.
You can watch the video here
Encore
After the thunderous shouts of encore from the audience, the members appeared on stage again and sang “Fanfare!”” and “You & I”. They promised their Taiwanese fans to “not let them wait this long for the next time”. However, since this was the last night, the 11K fans shouted for a second encore and the members appeared on stage again. Chinen said with a smile, “We see each other again so soon!” Yabu used Mandarin to ask the fans, “What do you want to hear? What do you want us to sing?” They then performed “Ultra Music Power again, and rang around the stage. Nakajima Yuto said in pretty fluent English, “Thank you everyone for coming. We are so happy. We will not forget tonight when you are here with us in Taiwan together!” Chinen also said in Mandarin that “We will come again!”. The members wistfully said goodbye to their fans.
Fan stories and fan service
Hey!Say!JUMP’s concert was like a grand entertainment show. In addition to the members’ hard work, the fans also brought a lot of enthusiasm. In Johnny’s tradition, fans communicate to their idols through homemade uchiwa, which was a sight to behold for [those unfamiliar with Johnny’s concerts]. Fan messages included “Wink at me”, “Blow me a kiss”, “Point at me” etc., and the fans could quickly switch to different uchiwas depending on the member who appeared in their sights.
A 30 year old OL fan, Sen, brought a Yamada Ryosuke and Nakajima Yuto uchiwa as well as 2 message ones that said “Give me a kiss” and “Did you drink bubble tea?” She said the handmade ones were actually borrowed from a fan, who successfully got a kiss from Yaotome Hikaru the day before, so she hoped the luck would rub off on her.
Apple Daily’s reporter even saw a Japanese fan who brought 8 uchiwa, and she even joined forces with her seat mates, all holding up that members’ uchiwa together to catch the attention of their idols who appeared in front of them. During the encore, Nakajima Yuto immediately started running around the stage to look for fans. When he found a fan from Singapore and he asked this fan directly, “Did you fly here from Singapore?” He also compiled with all the fan service: blowing kisses, giving them thumbs up, heart signs, the fans were super excited. [I guess you can say his service is excellent.]
Sources (in addition to news clips and twitter / weibo):
Apple Daily
https://tw.appledaily.com/new/realtime/20191006/1644575/
China Daily
https://www.chinatimes.com/amp/realtimenews/20191006002555-260404
Liberty Time News
https://ent.ltn.com.tw/news/breakingnews/2938402
https://stars.udn.com/star/story/10092/4089578
Now News
https://www.nownews.com/news/20191006/3674832/
https://www.nownews.com/news/20191006/3674976/ (White Love lyrics)
Star UDN
https://stars.udn.com/star/story/10092/4089727?from=udnamp-referralnews_ch1022artbottom
#hey say jump#taipei concert 2019#translations#yamada ryosuke#chinen yuri#nakajima yuto#arioka daiki#inoo kei#takaki yuya#yaotome hikaru#yabu kota#hey!say!jump#Hey!Say!JUMP 2019 in Taipei
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Scully has to make a choice: stay and watch Mulder and everything she loves shatter around her, or leave and hope that by doing so, it will make them stronger.
Chapter Two
The Hardest Goodbye
September 2014
Scully sat in her car sobbing. This hurt. This hurt so fucking much, she thought she might die from the pain.
This decision to leave him, even though she knew it was right, was killing her. Mulder was presumed dead for months and she thought that pain was unlivable. Then he was gone from her life for a year and that was unbearable. But this, Jesus ... she could hardly catch her breath as the pain threatened to choke her.
Her heart was shattered in pieces all over the car. She knew she would never be able to find them and put them back together properly. They would be in the places no one could ever reach. Once she opened the door and got out, she felt the pieces were going to float away on the breeze.
Maybe they would go back to the house and find a corner and wait. Lick their wounds, biding their time, and repairing. But she felt none of that now. Only sadness and emptiness. Hollow, she felt so fucking hollow. If she tapped her chest, she was sure there would be an echo, like the Tin Man.
She took a deep breath and sobbed anew, thinking of the warning signs and how they could have fixed things. Before her heart had broken his and left them both former shells of themselves.
His face. His eyes. The way he looked at her as she told him she was leaving. Why she was leaving. The eyes that always saw the joy and lit up with excitement were dull and sad. He was different, and it killed her.
Things were better for a while after they helped on the case with the FBI. When she came home after Christian’s surgery, she collapsed and wept in his arms. She cried until she was empty. The days and worry leading to her breaking down when it was finally done.
He held her, and then they made love. Slowly, as though they had all the time in the world. They whispered their love to one another with words, touches, and kisses. They stayed in bed for two days. Sleeping, loving, and coming back to one another.
He listened to her. He heard how the darkness was weighing on her, and she felt it was coming after them and how she did not want it. She wanted to never feel that again. He kissed her and told her again that it was an impossible task, but he would try.
He looked into and purchased tickets for a trip. The first trip they had taken in a long time. Some place warm, away from the darkness and the worry that hung around them.
It was wonderful and relaxing. Days of sun and sandy beaches. One day was spent on a small island, so private they were the only people around. The sex they had there ... she rinsed sand from her body for what seemed like days.
“The darkness would have a hell of a time finding us here,” he whispered, as they lay on a blanket, in the warm setting sun of that private island, naked and sated.
Smiling, she wrapped her limbs tighter around him, listening to his heartbeat, his fingers threading through her hair. She was content and felt better than she had in a long time.
When they came home, he seemed better, more like his old self. Happy, laughing and ready to let the darkness go. He was simply cooped up in the house too long. No longer being a marked man, he felt free to be . He met her for lunch or coffee. Called her more, was more engaged.
He tried learning to cook, and it had been disastrous. He attempted a simple meal, but he still messed up and they had to buy a new skillet. Standing in line to pay for the new skillet, she giggled. He looked over at her, and she laughed again.
“You keep laughing, and I won’t cook for you again,” he said, his voice low and sexy. She shivered, knowing he knew what he was doing.
“Please make sure you don’t,” she said with a laugh. “Our house reeks of burnt metal. I can live just fine without that stench again, thank you very much.” He laughed and pulled her close, his arm around her shoulders.
They visited her mom and had dinners there more often. Mulder was even more like his old self when he was there. Trying to get her mom to laugh with his goofy jokes. It really did not take much effort, as she adored him. Her mother came to their place more often too, and Scully watched them as they interacted. She saw the way her mother looked at him, her eyes shining, as she laughed at his jokes. Scully was thankful for the relationship they shared. Mulder deserved a mother like hers who loved him unconditionally.
Soon though, Mulder began slipping into his old ways. She came home to him in his office more and more. Days when he had obviously only left to eat and use the bathroom. Dishes from the morning, in the sink, coffee cups piling up on the counter, forcing her to wash them, not wanting messes to keep stacking up.
When the predetermined date came and went, he disappeared from her. He did not leave, but he may as well have been gone. He was gone physically and emotionally. She spent nights alone at the table, on the couch, and in bed. He was up at odd hours, sometimes not sleeping at all, but spending his days on the computer in his office. He devoured any information he could find, waking her or interrupting her, when he seemed to remember she was there.
Mulder was quiet and withdrawn some days, then there were days when he was antsy, wired, like he had too many espressos. He would ramble, hands flying everywhere as he paced around, his words tumbling out quickly.
“Scully, there is a man in Dubai who said he heard from a group in New Mexico, that there was a man in Iceland who knew a woman who heard some information in Boston. I am waiting to hear if the person in Boston would be willing to give me any information so I can share it with others. No one has had any luck with it, but maybe …”
At first she wanted to hear him, to follow along, but after a while, she just wanted it to stop. She did not want to figure out why the world did not come to end in 2012. Why did he care, if it meant they were alive? Alive, together, and happy.
But that darkness continued to call to him, and he answered, welcoming it with little hesitancy. He was eager to find answers that were rarely forthcoming, but kept him from her and their life together.
She tried. Tried to get him to hear her, to understand, to see what she was seeing. He was in his office whether she was home or not. He grew his beard back, thicker and more unkempt than it had been in the past.
She hated it. Where before it was scratchy and a mild nuisance, now it hid his face from her, making him look haggard and old. More than that, she hated the way it felt against her lips when she kissed him, not to mention the rest of her body.
Not that he was kissing her much. They became strangers who shared a bed, when he actually came to bed. His hours were erratic, and she still had to be up early to get to the hospital. Most mornings she woke up and his side of the bed had not been slept in, the covers undisturbed.
He fell asleep in the overstuffed chair in his office, at his desk, and then once, on the couch. When that happened, she woke him up, tears in her eyes, pleading for him to talk to her, to please hear her, see what was happening to them.
“Mulder, please,” she sobbed as she climbed into his lap, clinging to him. “Please talk to me.” Hearing her tears sparked his own, and he cried with her. Pulling her close, as if trying to absorb her pain.
“Scully, I’m sorry,” he whispered, crying into her neck, his arms holding her tight. He began to kiss her neck and she did not pull away. She missed him so much. She would suffer the insufferable beard to feel him close to her. To feel anything after so long.
It was quick, but wonderful. It always was. Even when they were at odds or had been angry, the sex was always amazing. When they could not find the words, their bodies seemed to know what to say, and they did the talking.
After they finished, they lay together on the couch, entwined around the other. It was a tight fit, but it felt wonderful to hold and be held. Their breathing synchronized and they were still.
She looked at him, and they both knew nothing had been solved. This had been a band aid trying to cover a broken bone. He looked back at her, and his eyes seemed miles away. She kept their eye contact, saying nothing, relying on their unspoken communication. She saw when he was back with her, when he poked his head out of that darkness. She smiled, tears in her eyes. She stroked his cheek as he smiled back.
It was such a small step, but she felt hopeful. He untangled himself from her and silently went upstairs, leaving her on the couch, watching him walk away. She heard the shower turn on, and she sighed. She got up and put her clothes back on, then went to start the coffee. There was not much in the fridge, but she found enough to make them scrambled eggs with some veggies thrown in too. There was bread for toast, so she added some slices to the toaster.
She was ready to add the eggs to the vegetable medley she cut up. when she heard the creak of the stairs. She turned and gave a gasping sob. He had on an old pair of jeans, and a dark grey shirt. He was barefoot and his hair was still damp. Her gasp was not for that, although he looked better than he had in weeks. No, she gasped because he shaved.
She set the eggs on the counter and walked to him. She stared at him, almost unrecognizable after living with that beard for so long. She touched his smooth cheeks, running her fingers slowly over his face. She pulled him in for a kiss, soft and sweet, reveling in the feel of her Mulder. Then she kissed his cheeks, his neck, his jawline. All the places she missed seeing and touching under that hair.
She looped her arms around his neck, and he held her by her waist. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear, and she felt him nod, as he took a deep breath.
“Something smells good,” he said, and she laughed. She pulled back and looked in his eyes again. He smiled at her, the slow one, his lips staying closed.
They walked to the counter together and finished the breakfast preparations before eating the simple meal. They spent the day talking, sitting on the porch, walking around their home, laying on a blanket in the afternoon sunshine. She laughed at something he said and then he was kissing her and all thoughts, except how wonderful he felt, left her mind.
They lay there sweaty, hearts racing, the wind cooling off their hot bodies. She felt so happy, so much like her old self. The one who woke him in the middle of the night to make love to him, to feel him under or over her, as she cried out in pleasure. Her old self who laughed at some crazy theory or an idea he shouted from the other room. She would shake her head knowing he would appear in the doorway, lean against the door jamb, and try to persuade her to his way of thinking.
He was very persuasive, as he always had been. But, differently than her life as Agent Scully, most of the time their doorway discussions led to sex wherever they happened to be. It almost always involved them laughing as they achieved completion together. She loved all aspects of their sex life but those fun, silly, and often bruised the next day in odd places sexcapades, made her feel alive. Made her feel young and so desirable, he had to have her right then. She loved him so much in those moments.
He continued to fall into the darkness, however, the good days coming less and less. She recognized the signs of depression, and approached him carefully about it. He refused to listen to her at first, to believe he was depressed.
“I’m getting out of bed every day, Scully. Still working on things, getting dressed, and functioning. I don’t feel depressed. So, what exactly do you want?” he had said, shaking his head at her.
“Mulder, please at least try,” she said, standing her ground, holding the bottle in her hand. “This will help you even out, and not live in peaks and valleys. Please, Mulder. I need you better. For both of us. Please.”
He stared her down, defiant and shaking his head. She kept her hand out, the bottle within his grasp. He finally grabbed it, and still angry, he walked into his office, and slammed the door. She stood staring after him for a minute longer and turned to leave the living room. It was all she could do.
The office door flew open and he came out, reaching for her and holding her tight. “I’m sorry. I’m such a fucking asshole,” he said, his hands in her hair, his mouth by her ear. “If you want me to take the medication, I will.”
“Mulder, it’s not what I want, but what you need,” she said, her eyes closed as she clung to him. He nodded and they stood holding one another close.
He started to take the medication, and it seemed to make things better. He was happier, more involved, making an effort again. He would come out of his office or leave the door open, no longer closed off from her. But, again, things could not stay as they were, and try as he might to avoid it, he heard the call of the piper.
She tried. She felt like she was drowning, like his problems were slowly burying her alive. Her work began to suffer, she was no longer sleeping or eating properly, and he had no idea she was hurting. He did not seem to see her anymore. His eyes looking through her again, and her heart breaking when they did.
She tried once more, one last time for him to hear her. Opening the office door, she found him sitting on the floor- papers, photos, articles, dishes, and cups surrounding him. His clothes were ones he wore for a couple of days, his hair a mess, and that fucking beard was back. His face haggard, and his eyes bloodshot when he looked up at her. When was the last time he slept?
She knelt down, opening her mouth to bring up what she came to discuss, when he sighed in exasperation.
“Scully, come on. Move. You’re on the paper I need,” he said, annoyance in his tone.
The calm she attempted to maintain when she walked into his office, flew out the window. She grabbed the paper from under her knee and ripped it in half, then half again.
“What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled, reaching for the papers. Her anger was past the point of caring if she hurt him, and she threw the papers at him as she stood to her feet. She walked out of the office and he followed her
“The fuck are you doing, Scully?! Those were important papers and you just ripped them up? That was so goddamn rude, you had no right to do that,” he yelled at her, and she saw red.
“You are such a selfish asshole, you know that? You care more about those pieces of paper than what I have to say? Why I came in your office?” she yelled back, disbelief on her face. He stared at her and she at him, words beginning to bubble up and spill out, no stopping them.
They yelled, their words becoming more hurtful as their voices escalated. Not one word was uttered to attempt to reach any kind of compromise. She felt like they were on separate sides of a canyon, screaming to the other, but unable to hear over the echoes of their own voices.
He stared at her, his anger evident, before he turned and went in the office, slamming the door. She waited. Five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. He did not emerge and then she heard the printer coming to life.
Her tears came fast and hot, as she fell to the floor, folding in on herself. She cried harder than she had in years, the hole in her heart that appeared the day William was taken from her, begin to fissure. How long she cried there, she did not know, but the door to the office remained shut with Mulder inside.
She stood up on shaky legs and stared at the door as she wiped her eyes, her mind made up. She had to go, to leave for her own sake as well as his. Thinking and doing were two different things and she suddenly could not make her feet move, the decision to leave seeming to convince her to stay. She lifted a heavy foot and then another, going to the stairs.
She took a suitcase out of their closet, an item she had not used in a long time. She shook her head, tears falling again as she began to clean out her drawers and fill her bag. Every item she packed felt heavy like lead. She took another suitcase out and filled it. She carried them both down the stairs and to her car, the printer whirring away as she walked past the office.
She took her hanging clothes and carried them by the armfuls, taking them to the car. One more bag was filled with shoes, her toiletries, and a picture of them that sat on the dresser. She put it in the car, coming back inside the house, and standing in front of his office door. Over two hours had passed and he made no effort to come out, no attempt to apologize or explain his actions. She felt again that suffocating sense of being unable to breathe, as if the walls themselves were closing in on her.
She grasped at her heart, feeling the fissures pushing and threatening to break within her chest. She had to do this, not because she hated him, but because she loved him. She loved him so much it would hurt her more to stay than to go, she knew that without question. Standing there was killing her, the decision had been made, but the motion halted.
She closed her eyes, moved her hand, and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and turned the door knob. He was standing in front of the printer, his back to her, his shoulders slumped. The door creaked and he turned toward her, glancing at her, and then turning back to the printer.
“Look, Scully,” he said, shaking his head. “I know what you’re going to say. I don’t need to hear it again, okay?”
She looked around the room at the items on his wall. So much clutter, things were overlapping. He had papers on the floor still, stacked on the desk, even in his desk chair. How very ironic that it once again was papers and files that would be the wall between them. So fragile and easily destroyed and yet it might as well be made of steel. Her eyes filled with tears as she took another deep breath.
“Mulder,” she said quietly, her tears spilling over. “Mulder, I’m … I’m leaving.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” he said, not turning around.
“No, Mulder,” she said, her voice a little stronger. “I’m leaving. I … Mulder, I can’t ...”
He finally turned around and his expression was annoyed. As he looked at her, he seemed to understand what she was saying. He shook his head and frowned, opening and closing his mouth.
“What do you mean, you’re leaving? What?” he asked her, confusion on his face.
Strangely, as soon as she saw him look at her, she felt calm and knew this was the right choice. If they stayed where they were, they would never move forward, but continue to stay on either side of that canyon, eventually unable to hear even themselves any longer. They would move further and further away until they could no longer find their way back. This was the only way to move forward, as much as it broke her inside to do so.
“Mulder, I can’t do this anymore. It’s ... Mulder, I’m suffocating with the weight of this, this constant fight with you. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to get you to hear me, to see me, but I can’t. I don’t know what else to do,” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I’m ... Mulder ...”
“So … we have a fight and you’re going to leave? Is that how this works now?” he said, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
“A fight, Mulder?” she said softly, shaking her head. “It’s not just a fight, and you are well aware of that, so don’t say that to me. This is not easy or what I want, but I don’t know what else to do. I have tried, and I feel ...”
“Scully, what do you want from me? You knew that date was important, that we had been preparing for it,” he said, pacing the room as best he was able with so much shit piled up around him. “It didn’t happen and I want to know why. What if, what if there is a different one and we’re not ready? I need to know. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little time to figure it out.” He stared at her, his eyes hard.
“Mulder,” she said softly, tears threatening to stop her from speaking. “It’s been almost two years. That’s more than a little time.”
He looked at her blankly, as if he could not believe it had been that long. She held his gaze, and he had the decency to look away.
“Two years, Mulder. We’ve been trudging through this and it never gets better, not for long anyway,” she said, shaking her head again. “I have tried what I could, and I can’t anymore. You don’t talk to me. You’re in here and I’m out there, we aren’t together anymore. This ... this obsession ...”
“Obsession,” he scoffed.
“Yes, obsession. I feel like I’m back in that jail cell asking you again if all of this is worth more than me, than us. Is it Mulder? Are these papers, this information you’ve found, is it more important than us? Than me, Mulder?” she asked, the tears finally falling down her face. She knew the answer, but hoped she would be wrong.
He stared at her, his jaw clenching, his hands on his hips. “How can you ask me that? I’m doing this for you! For us! All of this Scully, it’s for you and your protection! If the day comes when a new date is revealed, I want us to be ready. How can I do that if I don’t look every place available to me?” he asked her, anger flowing off him like waves.
“It’s not what I want, Mulder,” she whispered. “I would rather not know and be with you than worry about the date and lose you while you sit in the next room. But, that’s not enough for you. I’m not enough for you.”
“Scully,” he cut across her, disbelief on his face.
“Mulder, could you stop this today and be happy? Could you be happy living with me, and never looking into the darkness again? Would being with me, finding a job, doing something besides this, be enough for you?” she asked him, again knowing the answer but hoping she was wrong.
He stared at her again, giving her a slight shake of his head. “It’s not that simple, Scully,” he said, his anger dissipating and sadness settling over his face. “Scully, I can’t ... it’s not …”
“I know, Mulder,” she said softly, wanting to hold him, to make it better with a kiss. “But I also know that I can’t watch this anymore. I can’t be the one holding the lifeline while you drift out to sea, the fog so thick, I don’t know if you’re even there anymore. I can’t be the one waiting while you chase monsters in the dark. I want to be enough for you. I want this life, our life, to be enough for you. Right now, it’s not and I can’t change it.” She stepped into the room and this time he did not complain about the papers she stepped on as she touched his face.
He looked in her eyes, and for a second she saw him there, the Mulder she met and followed for so long. Always chasing, running, going toward the answers he sought. His eyes had always been her safety, her place to go when she needed answers, needed calm. Today, in the moment, only empty sadness sat within his hazel irises.
“Mulder,” she whispered. ��Every flight we ever took, they told us what to do in case of loss of cabin pressure, to apply our own oxygen masks before helping others. It always sounded so selfish, but it made sense. How could you help others if you were unable to breathe? Right now, Mulder, I can’t breathe. I feel as if the cabin is losing pressure and I’m fighting with you to put on your mask, but you need to finish looking for something first. I keep pushing you to put it on, but I’m losing the ability to breathe.” She put her head against his chest and took a breath. When she raised her head, she saw he had tears in his eyes.
“Mulder,” she said, her own eyes filling with tears. “We’re both going to die on that plane because I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself. That’s how I feel every day. The oxygen is being pulled from me and I know I won’t survive for much longer.”
He bowed his head and she heard him breathe out a sob. He pulled her to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He cried into her neck, and she into his, neither of them saying anything. She stepped back, knowing she had to go now, before he convinced her to stay.
She touched his face again and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.” She stepped out of his arms, over the papers, and out the door. She did not look back, but kept moving, grabbing her keys off the side table and walking out the front door.
She felt a sob welling up inside her. She needed to get in the car before she abandoned this plan and ran back to him. Down the steps and into the car, not looking back, her resolve firm. She backed up and then headed out, only then looking in the rear view mirror. He was on his knees on the porch, his head down as his body shook with sobs.
She almost turned around, but knew this was right and how they would get back to where they needed to be. She did not look back again, determined to keep going.
It was not until she was a couple of miles down the road, when she had to quickly pull over as she realized he did not tell her he loved her, and the fissures threatening to crack, finally imploded.
#Leaving the one you love#Heartbreak#Angst#Memories#The X Files#XF Fanfic#Saying Goodbye#Pain and aching
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Discord thread featuring: Sky & @samuelburton
When: October 4, 2020 - right before Sam takes Sky to her surprise birthday party
Where: Sam’s apartment
Mentions: @jesskipp
Description: Sam cooks Sky a b-day lunch, and plays her the song he wrote for her
Trigger Warnings: fluff fluff fluff.
Sam
sam had been preparing a little something special for sky's birthday for a little while now. it was hard to compete with yacht parties and expensive gifts, but sam knew that all sky really wanted was to spend time with her loved ones on her special day. sam was lucky to be counted among them. he hadn't always been the most talented in the kitchen, but he really had been working on improving his skills and for lunch he whipped up a light but tasty pasta dish that was absolutely delicious. it was sam's responsibility to get sky to the surprise party, so they didn't have too much time, but sam wanted to make the most of it. the table was set appropriately with candles and roses because if sam learned anything from watching the food network it was all about the presentation. he pulled sky's chair out for her and once she was seated, ducked his head to speak directly into her ear. "happy birthday, love," he told her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
Sky
Sky hasn’t been this happy in a while. She had a good job, one in which she was making a lot of money off, she was just cast as one of her dream roles in one of her favorite shows, and most importantly she had to most loving and supportive boyfriend that anyone could ever ask for. Sam’s plan for today was so romantic. There was nothing sexier than a man who wanted to cook for their lover. While Sky loved fancy parties and an excuse to dress up, but when it came to Sam...quality time with him was everything she ever needed and more. She was still in her dance outfit from the class she taught at Jaycee’s studio earlier when she entered the room. Her face lit up at the sight. “Sam...” she mused, blushing a little at the way he pulled out the chair for her and kissed her on the cheek. She felt like a real princess.
Sam
sam sat across from her at the small table he'd set for them. it was no elaborate set up with balloons and paper hearts, but it was heartfelt non the less. he uncorked the bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass. "i thought since it's your birthday we could definitely indulge in a little day drinking," he told her with a wink. it was so nice to be able to spend time with sky like this. between rehearsals, her dance classes, and her job, it was getting harder to spend quality time together like this. it only made it harder that they couldn't really be seen in public together. but sam was so happy for her. she was doing so well and he couldn't be more proud of her. "an amazing home cooked meal for an amazing girl," sam smiled, raising his glass.
Sky
Ah, wine. Sky and Jess considered themselves wine connoisseurs even though they were far from that. She hummed contently as she watched him pour the wine for the pair. This was the simplest gesture, but she honestly felt like a fucking princess. Sky had such a busy and crazy life, but she loved keeping busy and doing the things she was passionate about. She hadn't been this happy in such a long time. She was making money, dancing, singing, acting, and dating the best man in the entire city. 29 was bound to be an amazing year. "I love you." she smiled at him, raising her glass and taking a tiny sip of her wine.
Sam
“don’t say that until you’ve tried the pasta,” sam joked, though he was smiling the way he did whenever she told him she loved him. he would never tire of hearing her say that. sam tipped back his glass, taking a sip of wine before promptly digging in. it was pretty fucking good and sam felt relief wash over him. they weren’t the kind of couple who needed everything to be perfect to enjoy themselves but he wanted to do something nice for sky for her birthday and was glad that he really had improved as far as cooking goes.
Sky
Sky snorted at her little goofball. She followed his lead and took a tiny bite of the pasta, much more gracefully than Sam was eating. But wow. It was so damn good. She took another sip of her wine before locking eyes with him and reaching across the table to grab his hand. "Thank you so much." She grinned again. Her face was hurting from smiling so hard. This was such a sweet gesture, and it made her heart so full. She really did not think she deserved Sam. There was still a pit in her stomach about the whole Mat thing, and part of her thought that their relationship would end the same way it did before. But moment like these reassured Sky that Sam really was the one.
Sam
“you deserve it,” sam told his girlfriend, his smile warm and genuine, his eyes soft. seeing her happy like this made sam absolutely melt. he loved her so much. they continued eating and chatting, joking around, and just generally having a really good time. once they’d both finished their meal and another glass of wine, sam stood and rounded the table. he stood behind her, squeezing her shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her head. “i’ve got one more surprise for you,” he told her.
Sky
This was perfect. She was always having a laugh when she was with Sam, and she was just so genuinely happy this afternoon. Sky raised her brows when her boyfriend told her that he had another surprise for her — her mind automatically going to a nice gift. His massive cock would be nice too. She tilted her head to look into her favorite pair of blue eyes. Her heart stopped just about every time she looked into them. Still. “What is it?” She asked eagerly.
Sam
“come here.” sam took sky’s hand and guided her out of her chair and into his room. “i’d love to give you diamonds or something just as extravagant because you deserve it, but i hope that this will be just as good if not better,” he told her before guiding her over to sit beside him at his keyboard. sam loved the piano, but he rarely played for others. it was something that he kept for himself. but this was a special occasion and music had always been something so important to sam and was sometimes the easiest way for him to express what he was feeling. he smiled at sky, a little nervous, and began to play. it was a medley of her favorite showtunes interwoven with score from some of her favorite movies. his fingers glided skillfully over the keys as he transitioned from one piece into the next before ending with something completely original. he’d written it especially for sky. he’d poured everything into it, communicating with music rather than words just how much she meant to him.
Sky
Sky chuckled. Diamonds sounded nice, but she’d never ask Sam to do that for her. Bedsides, she’d soon be able to buy her own diamonds with this new job. She grinned as she followed him. Her heart fell into her stomach and she stopped him her steps when he sat down on the piano. He didn’t. She slowly moved to sit down on the bench next to him, her jaw to the floor. This was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard in her life. Her dark eyes flickered from his gorgeous hands to his face which was concentrated on the keys below them. Sky really didn’t expect something like this at all. This was better than any diamonds or gold anyone could ever buy her. “I love you.” She told him. He didn’t even need to say those words back to her because she could tell just how much he did by listening to that song. “Sam...” she put her face in her hands. She was absolutely speechless for once.
Sam
sam couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction. his heart was so full of love for his girlfriend and seeing the look on her face was all he ever needed. sam put his arms around her, pulling her into his side and kissing her on the head. “you? speechless? who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” he teased, squeezing her shoulder. “happy birthday, love,” he told her. “you’re everything to me.”
Sky
“Shut up.” She giggled, nudging him in the arm with her elbow playfully. But he was right. Damn. Sky could talk but there were not words to describe how she was feeling right now. “I’m happy to be spending this year with you.” She told him. “You’re my everything too.” She looked over at him with a bright smile. She wished she could give him everything so that he could just work on his music. She’d work her three jobs — Jaycee’s studio, the show, and Mat’s fake girlfriend — 24/7 if that meant that Sam could just do what he loved all day. She owed him that much. “Hey. We should write a song together one day.” She smirked.
Sam
sam smiled when she said she was happy to spend the year with him. it was kind of funny the way they ended up together once again, just in time for the holidays. it almost felt like a do over, though a lot had changed. sam was determined to get it right this time around. “me too,” he said, still holding her close. at her suggestion, he turned to look at her, eyes bright with excitement at the idea of creating music together. “yeah?” he said, his smile widening. “you know i love hearing you sing,” he added, leaning in to kiss her sweetly. when he pulled away, he managed to catch sight of the clock on the nightstand. if they were going to make it to the party in time, they needed to start getting ready. “hey, how about we take a bit of an evening stroll?” he asked.
Sky
And Sky loved to sing for Sam. He was probably her biggest fan and she was most definitely his. He supported her career like nobody she ever knew. Especially since growing up was so hard for her. Sam was one of maybe two or three consistent people she had in her life at this point. Sky pouted when her boyfriend pulled away from her, although the words coming out of his mouth were beyond sweet. Of course they made Sky blush, but she wanted to be kissing him again so damn bad. "Or we could stay here and I could jump your bones?" She kissed him again, leaning into him this time. A walk sounded nice, sure. But this was better.
Sam
sam kissed her back, smiling against her lips. it was really really tempting. and sounded like a much better option to sam. but he’d been given the responsibility of getting sky to that party and he knew that sky would absolutely love that her friends, namely jess, had put it together for her. “you don’t know how much i’d love that,” he sighed as he pulled away. “but i think you’d really enjoy taking a walk,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. he knew that there were probably more subtle ways of getting sky out the door, but they were working against the clock here. “trust me,” he told her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss in the nose.
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Family of Six (12/14)
After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.
This chapter: Teen, 7100 words
Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter:
James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 3 months
If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.
Next update: November 12th
AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series
Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14
“I was thinking…”
James propped himself up on an elbow to watch Rose nurse the twins. Golden sunlight streamed in from the open window, casting a halo around her hair. He had to refrain from grabbing his phone to take a photo of her—she already teased him that he only ever wanted to take photos of her with the babies when she was breastfeeding them.
“About?” he prompted.
“I think… I think the twins might be ready to be moved into the nursery overnight,” she said, looking down at the two babies in her arms.
James heard what Rose actually meant: that she herself was ready to move the babies out of their bedroom.
“What do you think?” she asked, finally looking up at him.
The twins were three months old and regularly sleeping through the night, as they’d been doing for the past month. They had kept the twins in their bedroom far longer than they had for Ainsley or Sianin when they were infants. Perhaps it was time for the twins to move into their proper bedroom.
“James?”
He realized he was staring at Hannah and Maddie. Was he ready to not have them in the room anymore? Could he sleep without hearing their quiet breathing? How weird would it be to glance over and not see them?
It was time to find out.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think they’re ready.”
Rose soft smile told him she understood the words he hadn’t said either.
It was an easy enough transition to make, physically speaking. The cribs had been prepared for months and the twins were already used to them, since James and Rose often put them down for mid-day naps in the nursery.
They warned Ainsley and Sianin that the twins were being moved into the nursery, and they apologized if it disturbed their sleep every now and then.
After listening to Ainsley read a chapter from the Harry Potter book they were in the middle of, James returned to the living room, where Rose was finishing up the twins’ nighttime feed. He took one of the babies from her and got her burped and changed into a fresh onesie that didn’t have milk dribbled all down the front.
Hannah was still awake, but only just; she blinked up at him with glazed, sleepy eyes. When she realized her father was gazing down at her, she offered him a slow smile filled with such joy and adoration that his throat tightened.
“I love you,” he murmured.
She let out a coo, and smiled again.
“I love you,” he said in a sing-song voice.
Again, she cooed, the end of her coo lilting up a bit at the end.
“I. Love. You.”
A longer coo this time. James beamed down at his child and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“My darling girl,” he said, kissing her again. “My sweet, beautiful Hannah.”
Hannah’s smile gradually faded when she let out a yawn that scrunched her face. He rocked his torso gently and began humming to her. She gurgled and dug her face into his chest, squirming around to find the comfiest position.
He adjusted his hold on the baby until she settled, then he sang under his breath, a medley of “You Are My Sunshine” and “Hush Little Baby.” Ever so slowly, Hannah’s body went limp in his arms as she fell asleep.
He glanced over at her crib, but it somehow seemed to have grown ten times its size. Hannah was so small in his arms, and her crib was absolutely huge. She would be utterly dwarfed on the mattress. How scary would it be for such a little thing to awake in a big, strange bed?
He turned away from the crib and instead started a new lullaby as he slowly ambled down the hallway. He heard Rose speaking quietly to Maddie in the living room. His other baby was asleep in her mother’s arms, but Rose still rocked her slowly and talked to her.
“Ready for bed?” he asked, hoping Rose would assuage his ridiculous fears about putting the twins in their cribs for the night.
“Not yet,” Rose said. “I’m too comfortable and she’s being so sweet.”
“Yeah, me too.” He plopped down on the sofa and reclined his feet. Hannah stayed dead asleep.
James rested his head back and continued singing to his child, anything from lullabies to songs he had stuck in his head. After a while, he heard Rose joining in, making it a duet.
They passed the night like that, each of them cradling and singing to an infant that was already asleep. James was relieved that he wasn’t the only one who had gotten cold feet about putting the twins in the nursery.
“We really ought to go to bed, love,” James suggested as ten o’clock came and went.
“I know,” Rose said, but he heard a faint strain of reluctance in her voice. She huffed out a frustrated breath. “Why is this so hard? I thought I was ready to keep them in the nursery overnight. It wasn’t this hard with Ainsley or Sianin, was it? Oh great. Does that mean we didn’t love Ainsley and Sianin as much?”
James reached over to rest a comforting hand on her thigh. “You know, we don’t have to put them in their cribs. The bassinets are still in our room.”
“No, we should do this. Cold turkey.”
“Rose, they’re our children, not a habit we’re trying to kick,” James said dryly.
“It most certainly is. If I had my way, all of my babies would be sleeping in bed with us every night, forever,” Rose shot back, sticking her tongue out at him. She was only half teasing.
James snorted. “C’mon. We need to get some sleep. Nursery or bedroom?” After she was silent for a full minute, he stood. “Well. I’m going to bed. Hannah’s coming with me.”
His cheeks heated with a flare of ridiculous mortification as he passed the nursery and kept the baby in his arms. Why should he be embarrassed? It wasn’t as though anyone was keeping tally of when he moved his babies into their nursery. It wasn’t as though it was shameful to want his children as close to him as possible for as long as possible.
But still, he felt as though he’d failed some test as he brought Hannah into his and Rose’s bedroom. A knot in his chest loosened when he beheld the bassinets that had been his twins’ beds since he and Rose had brought them home.
“Your daddy is quite the nutter, isn’t he?” James murmured to his child. Her warm weight was comforting, and after nearly two hours of it, he was loathe to put her down. All of those feel-good bonding hormones were racing through his body, making him fall deeper in love with her; he didn’t want it to end.
“Yeah, but you’re our nutter.”
He looked to the door and saw Rose standing there, Maddie still in her arms. He smiled at her and brushed a kiss to Hannah’s forehead.
“I promise Mummy and I will let you move you into your own bedroom before you become a legal adult,” he whispered to her.
Rose chuckled and came up beside him. Wordlessly, they each angled the baby they were holding so they could give a goodnight kiss to the other twin. Then they did one last nappy check and settled the girls in for the night.
When they eventually crawled beneath the sheets and into each other’s arms, James said, “We are absolutely pathetic.”
Despite the failure of that first night, James and Rose tried again a couple days later. They found that it was easier if they put the twins to bed before they went through the bedtime routine with Sianin and Ainsley.
James and Rose resolved to not look in on the babies, lest they lose their nerve and bring them back to their room with them. It worked. At least for a few hours. Rose awoke sometime in the middle of the night, and when she returned to bed, James heard the sounds of snoring babies.
“Progress,” he praised sleepily, rolling into her warmth. “Progress is good.”
“How did we do this with Ainsley and Sianin?” Rose groaned.
“Easy. We followed the guidelines with Ainsley, so as soon as she slept through the night, she was demoted to the nursery. And with Sianin, we were so depressed for the first few months that we didn’t care enough to keep her here with us.” He made sure to exaggerate the drawl in his voice.
Rose pinched him. “Funnily enough, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
James laughed and kissed the crown of her head. “Okay, then how about this: we tried for years to make those beautiful babies, and now that we have them, we can’t bear to be apart from them.”
“Yeah, that’s loads better,” Rose said.
“We’ll get there, love. Baby steps. It’s not hurting anyone to keep them in here with us.”
Rose grunted in agreement, then tucked her cheek against his chest and went back to sleep.
oOoOo
James awoke on Father’s Day the way he always had: to Rose curling her body into his and hugging him close to murmur, “Happy Father’s Day, my love,” into his ear. Despite being groggy, he grinned and twined his arms around her to nestle into her warmth.
He would’ve been perfectly content to cuddle her until the kids woke up, but it seemed she had other plans. She slid one of her legs between his, pressing her thigh into his crotch, and mumbled, “Wanna do sex?”
“I will never say no to that,” he answered, his voice scratchy with sleep.
Their lovemaking was gloriously slow but intense. They held each other tightly as they moved together, whispering words of love and devotion between kisses and moans of pleasure, until they each found their release.
James trembled in the afterglow, his heart thudding against his ribs as he held Rose impossibly closer.
“That was brilliant,” he sighed, nuzzling his nose into her hair.
“It’s always brilliant,” she countered, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
He half-heartedly pinched her bum, making her squirm and laugh. Warmth spread through his chest.
“I love you, Rose.”
“I love you, too. Happy Father’s Day, James. Thank you for being the best father I could ever want for my children.”
“Thank you for helping to give me my beautiful children,” he said.
“They were pretty fun to make, you have to admit,” she teased, grinning up at him with a twinkle in her eyes.
“So much fun to make,” he agreed, giggling.
He burrowed closer to Rose, not really caring about the mess cooling between his legs and on the sheets, not really caring that he and Rose were utterly naked and they hadn’t remembered to lock their bedroom door, not really caring about much of anything.
That is, until he smelled something frying from the kitchen.
He and Rose tensed and sat up in bed at the same time. She cast a concerned glance at the door, as though she could see all the way to the kitchen.
“Best go see what they’re doing before they burn the house down,” Rose grumbled, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
“That’d be a hell of a way to celebrate,” he mused.
Rose poked his stomach.
“Stay here,” she commanded. “You know the tradition.”
Indeed he did. Breakfast in bed with his favorite humans in the whole world.
“Well, I’ll probably need to put on at least some pants,” James teased.
Rose rolled her eyes, then stood. He folded his arms behind his head and watched her, naked, skin flushed, and glowing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly.
Rose beamed, then disappeared into the loo. When she returned, she’d pulled her hair into a messy bun. She then whirled around their room, slipping on a pair of knickers and the midnight-indigo kimono he’d given her for her birthday. She cinched the front closed.
“Stay,” she ordered again, pointing a warning finger at him before she slipped out of their room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, James forced himself out of bed to clean himself up and make himself presentable. He pulled on a pair of boxers and a shirt, then tried to make his hair look as though Rose’s fingers hadn’t been raking through it all morning. Ignoring his wife’s command, he left their bedroom on silent feet to pad to the next room over, the nursery.
Hannah and Maddie were still asleep, miraculously. And even more miraculously, that was the second night in a row that neither he nor Rose had transferred the babies into their bedroom at some point during the night.
He smiled down at his twins and traced his fingertips across their bald heads. They’d been losing their downy newborn baby hair for weeks and were now properly bald, except for the dusting of blonde-ish peach fuzz. He couldn’t wait to see what color their hair would become. Dark chestnut, like Ainsley? Mousy brown, like Sianin? Something altogether different?
“I love you so much, my darling girls,” he whispered to the babies. “Thank you for being here for Father’s Day. Being your daddy is the best part of my life.”
He rested his forearms against the rail of Hannah’s crib and watched his daughters sleep. It was only when he smelled coffee and cooked bacon that he stepped out of the nursery and into his bedroom. He fluffed out the duvet then crawled atop it as though he’d never left.
A few minutes later, he heard the rattling of dishes and his daughter’s voices coming down the hall. He’d left the door open for them, but he grabbed his phone and stared at the blank screen to give the illusion of surprise when Ainsley and Sianin entered the room.
“Happy Father’s Day!” they both shrieked.
He dropped his phone in mock bewilderment, but the delighted grin on his face wasn’t faked. His heart squeezed in his chest as he beheld two of the people he loved most in the world.
“Thank you,” he said, setting his phone onto the nightstand. He sat up and positioned the pillows to give his back something to rest against. “Oh, that looks and smells wonderful.”
“We were gonna surprise you and Mummy,” Sianin said, “but then Mummy found us and said we should’ve waited for her.”
“Yeah, you two really shouldn’t be using the stove on your own yet,” he agreed. “However, I appreciate the gesture.”
“Go set the food on the bed.” Rose appeared in the doorway, her arms laden with two drowsy infants.
Ainsley and Sianin scurried to the foot of the bed and carefully set the trays down. Eggs and bacon and toast and a steaming cup of coffee. His mouth watered and his stomach gurgled.
“This looks fantastic, thank you.” He gestured for his daughters to get onto the bed. When they did, he pulled them into his arms and pressed kisses across their faces.
They each settled into his side and pulled the food towards them.
“Sian, scoot closer to me so Mummy can sit,” James said, edging closer to Ainsley.
When there was enough room, Rose carefully slid onto the mattress. She opened up the front of her kimono and began coaxing the infants into nursing.
“Daddy, make a plate,” Sianin moaned. “I’m starving.”
“Sianin, be patient,” Rose admonished.
As was tradition, James always got the first bite of their Father’s Day breakfast. He stifled a grin, then began piling food onto one of the four plates balanced on the tray. He slowly and carefully scraped butter and jam across a piece of toast, just to listen to Sianin whine.
“All right, make up a plate,” James said, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
Both girls heaped food onto their plates and began scarfing it all down. He frowned as Rose was left indisposed, her arms full of two babies.
“Sianin, wouldn’t it be nice of you to help your mummy get something to eat?” he prompted.
Sianin peered up at him, her cheeks puffed out with a too-large bite of food. She then looked at Rose. Chewing, Sianin grabbed the empty plate and mumbled, “Wha’foo’ant’my?”
“Try that again without your mouth full,” James said.
Sianin huffed and continued chewing for another few seconds before swallowing. “What food d’you want, Mummy?”
“A little bit of everything,” Rose replied. “Try smaller bites next time, Sian.”
Their six-year-old dutifully scooped a little bit of everything onto a plate. “I don’t understand. It’s not like she has a hand to eat with.”
“Then don’t you think it would be nice to offer to help?” James prompted, trying not to get frustrated with his daughter.
“How?” Sianin asked.
“Like this.” He stabbed his fork through a pile of eggs and held it up to Rose’s mouth. Rose rolled her eyes, but accepted the bite of food. He heard her stomach squeal in hunger as she swallowed.
“She’s not a baby,” Sianin grumbled. “Can’t she be patient and wait ‘til the twins are done, then eat?”
“Well, then I think we all ought to stop eating until Mummy can join us, eh?” James challenged.
“Sianin, don’t be a prat,” Ainsley hissed. “If you’re gonna be stupid, swap places with me. I’ll help Mum.”
Sianin’s cheeks went scarlet.
“Ainsley, don’t call your sister rude things,” Rose said.
Ainsley rolled her eyes and ignored her mother. “You’re being selfish and insensitive, Sianin.”
“I don’t see you helping,” Sianin shot back, glaring.
“I just said I would since you can’t be bothered!”
“I think we all need to take a minute and calm down,” James interrupted evenly. “Everyone take five deep breaths. Eyes on me.”
Ainsley and Sianin glared at each other for another second before turning their heads to look at their father. Together, they breathed deeply five times.
“Now, let’s try and be civil?” James suggested. “Sianin, you need to learn to recognize when people need help. Ainsley, you need to be patient with her as she learns this. Encourage her, don’t belittle her. And Sian, an offer of help is not helpful if you’re going to grumble about it.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” Sianin muttered, ducking her eyes.
“Sorry, Dad,” Ainsley echoed. She reached over and touched Sianin’s hand. The six-year-old flipped her hand to lace her fingers through her big sister’s. “Sorry, Sian.”
“M’sorry too.” Sianin hunched her shoulders and turned her head to Rose, but kept her eyes downcast. “Sorry, Mummy. Can I help?”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Rose leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sianin’s hair. “I can feed myself, but I need you to help me rearrange some pillows and blankets. Can you do that for me?”
“Anything I can do?” Ainsley chimed in.
“Fetch another pillow?” Rose asked, jutting her chin to one of the decorative pillows by the foot of the bed.
Together, Ainsley and Sianin stuffed pillows and blankets under and around the twin’s bodies so that Rose only needed one arm to support them, leaving the other free to feed herself.
James watched with pride, then he pressed a kiss of thanks to his daughters’ temples when they settled back in to eat.
“Your breakfast got cold,” Ainsley said forlornly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Besides, I’d rather eat cold food and know we all can eat, rather than eat hot food while Mummy can only watch. The delightful art of compromise, eh?”
After everyone was finished eating, Ainsley and Sianin took away the dishes. James heard a bit of clattering as they loaded the dishwasher.
“Of all the days for them to bicker over breakfast,” Rose said, sighing.
“It’s all right. They learned a valuable lesson.”
“I should’ve fed the twins before coming in here.”
“But then over half of my family would’ve been missing for my Father’s Day breakfast, and that is utterly unacceptable.”
Rose cracked a smile and continued nursing the twins.
When Ainsley and Sianin re-entered the bedroom, they were holding homemade cards in their hands. They vaulted onto the bed and vied for his attention to present him their card.
He accepted Ainsley’s first. It was covered in glittery stars, and under the largest center star, she had written “You’re a superstar!” He opened up the card and read, “Happy Father’s Day! Thanks for being my dad. Love you always and forever. Ainsley.”
He hastily blinked away the tears in his eyes and beamed at his eldest. “Thank you, darling. It’s beautiful.”
“My turn!” Sianin said.
“Patience,” he said. He leaned over and embraced Ainsley, kissing her cheek. “Love you loads, Ains.”
He then accepted Sianin’s card. Well, the paper. It wasn’t folded like a card because it would’ve ruined the two upside-down handprints on the front. Above and below the hands were written in Sianin’s messy scrawl, “Hands Down Best Daddy!” At the bottom of the page, as though she’d crammed it in at the last minute, she’d written, “Love, Sianin.”
“Thanks, Sian! I love it!”
He kissed her cheek, and pulled Ainsley and Sianin in for another hug. His heart was overflowing with love and happiness for his family.
“Mummy’s turn,” Rose said, perching on the edge of the mattress after having set the twins in their cots. She presented a small wrapped gift to James.
“Ooh, what is it?” Sianin asked as James accepted it.
“Give me a minute to unwrap it, and we’ll see,” James said.
Judging by the feel of it—hard, sturdy, and somewhat squarish—he thought he already knew what it was. He ripped open the paper and grinned as the back of a picture frame greeted him. He laughed out loud when he flipped it over.
The photo frame was a square, with four square panels along the outside, and one circular one in the center. The four outside panels housed a photo of his daughters individually; the center photo was of him and Rose kissing. Arcing around the center photograph were carved the words “We make beautiful babies”.
He was still chuckling as he admired the gorgeous photos of his family.
“I love it,” he crowed to Rose. He leaned towards her and pressed a smacking kiss to her lips. “Thanks, love.”
oOoOo
As much as James wished he could stay at home forever with his family, the day inevitably came when he needed to return to work. He eased his way back into it by only teaching one class during the summer term.
Rose awoke with James’s alarm, getting the babies fed and changed then getting their eldest children fed and dressed while he showered. She made him a breakfast sandwich and packed lunch that was ready to go by the time he sauntered into the kitchen looking every bit the stereotypical sexy professor. But then again, perhaps she was biased.
“Aww, my sweet little wifey made my lunch for me,” he crooned.
She smacked his chest. “Don’t make me dump your coffee on you. It’s just ‘cos it’s your first day back.”
He giggled and wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her into him until her back was flush with his chest. He nuzzled his nose into her neck and pressed a line of kisses around the collar of her shirt.
“I appreciate it very much,” he murmured. “Thank you.”
She relaxed in his arms, enjoying the quiet moment with her husband.
“I’ll be home this afternoon,” he said unnecessarily. She already knew his schedule: he lectured every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday morning from nine until noon, then had office hours from one until three on those days, as well as every Monday and Friday morning. He was lucky to work in such a job that provided such flexible hours.
“I know,” Rose said.
“I’ll have my phone with me. And obviously my arms. Let me know if anything happens, or if you need me to come home.”
“We’ll be fine, James,” she said, dropping her hands to where his were resting on her lower abdomen. She caressed the back of his hand softly, then spun his wedding band around his finger.
“It’s weird returning to work so soon.”
Since she was no longer working, she couldn’t share her maternity leave package with him like she’d been able to when Ainsley and Sianin were born. Granted, he still had been able to take more time off than other fathers, thanks to the university’s excellent leave policy, but it was less than they were accustomed to. “I know. But it’s only part time.”
“Just let me wallow,” he pouted.
She spun in his arms. His hair was neatly coiffed, so different from the ruffled mess he’d favored when he didn’t need to look presentable. She had to stop herself from playing with the neatly-slicked strands.
“No wallowing allowed,” she said. “Only positivity. You love teaching. You love working with students.” She paused. “Are you really that upset to be going back to work?”
“No,” he admitted. “I have missed being at the university. But I’ll miss being home with you and the girls.”
“We’ll miss you too,” Rose answered.
“Make sure you record anything and everything the twins do, especially any firsts,” he said.
“I will,” she assured. She leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Go on. Away with you.”
He rolled his eyes but complied. After a kiss goodbye for his four children, he grabbed his lunch, thermos, bag, and keys before heading out to his car.
His fellow coworkers all greeted him enthusiastically when he entered the science building. He stopped to chat to most of them, updating them all on his kids and promising to show them photos when his hands were free.
His office smelled a little musty from being locked up for the past few months, but the smell soon dissipated when he opened up the window and turned on his fan.
A surprise waited for him when he dug into his bag for his laptop. Nestled beside his computer was a thin, wrapped package. He tore into it, and a note fluttered out.
To help ease the transition and provide a new desk decoration. We love you loads.
Xo Rose xo
He smiled at the small piece of paper, then he turned to his gift. It was a bi-fold photo frame, and when he opened it, his heart lodged in his throat. On one side were Hannah and Maddie, huge smiles lighting up their face; on the other were Rose and their four kids. Rose was sitting and had both twins in her lap, their backs propped up against her belly and her arms securely around their middles. Ainsley and Sianin were sitting at her feet, their arms around each other.
James wondered when Rose had done these photos. They were beautiful. He was slightly frustrated with himself that he hadn’t thought to bring in a photo of the twins to add to the collection in his office, but of course Rose had thought of it for him.
He grabbed a pen off his desk and wrote to his soulmate. “I love my gift. Thank you so much, Rose.”
Yay! Glad you found it, and glad you like it!
“I love it,” he corrected, underlining the word. “I can say with near-perfect accuracy that I have the most beautiful family in the entire world.”
Damn right, you do ;) James chuckled. Okay, I’ll let you get back to work. I love you. See you tonight.
“Love you.”
A knock against his open door startled James. He looked up and saw his best work friend, Mark, leaning against the door frame.
“Hey, James,” Mark said warmly. “Welcome back. How’s the family.”
“Wonderful,” James replied. He beckoned them into his office, and thrust his new photo frame into Mark’s hands.
“Wow. They’re beautiful,” Mark breathed. “Er… remind me which twin is which?”
James laughed and pointed out his daughters. “That’s Hannah. And that’s Maddie.”
“They’ve gotten so big,” Mark said.
“Yep! Nearly four months old, now,” James said. “How are your little ones doing?”
Mark reached into his back pocket for his phone, and the two men spent the next few minutes swapping photos and tales of their family.
“Oh, crap,” Mark muttered when he noted the time. “I gotta go lecture.”
“What class have you got this summer?” James asked.
“Computation,” Mark groaned. “I’ve scanned the roster… half of the class is comprised of students who didn’t pass it last term.”
“Ooh, good luck,” James said with a sympathetic grimace.
Mark pocketed his phone and turned for the door. However, he spun around and said, “Oh, before I forget, a group of us are going out for dinner and drinks on Friday.”
“I should be free,” James said. “Though I need to check with Rose to see if she minds being left with four kids for an evening.”
“Just let me know. I gotta go.”
With that, James was left alone in his office to get himself ready for his lecture tomorrow.
oOoOo
On the night that James went out for dinner and drinks with his work friends, Rose spent the night in with her daughters. They twins were in a particularly calm mood, giving Rose plenty of uninterrupted time with her eldest children.
They ordered takeaway—pizza for the girls and Thai for Rose—then sang karaoke late into the night. The girls were pink-cheeked and sweaty from all of their improvised dance routines by the time Rose began to tell them to wind down for bed. It was already a half hour after the girls’ usual bedtime.
“Can’t we stay up and wait for Dad?” Ainsley pleaded.
“He’s going to be out for another few hours,” Rose lied. Truthfully, she had no idea what time James would be home. “Go on. Sianin, shower. Ains, start getting ready for bed; I’ll come tuck you in when I’ve put Sianin down.”
“Can I get a shower before bed? I feel a little gross.”
“Sure, a quick one after your sister is done.” Rose looked to Sianin. “A quick shower, missy.”
Sianin had a tendency to take twice as long as she should, namely because she tended to sing and dance when she should be washing.
“Ainsley, can you help me clean up?” Rose asked when Sianin marched down the hall.
An hour later, Rose was finally alone. It was nearing ten o’clock, and James had given no indication that he was on his way home. While she missed him and wanted to see him before she went to bed, she was glad he went out with his mates.
“I’m going to bed,” Rose wrote on her wrist. “I’ve locked up but left the kitchen light on for you. See you when you get in.”
James didn’t respond, but that didn’t concern her. After giving the twins their nighttime feed, she settled them into the nursery, then got herself ready for bed. She was asleep mere seconds after her head hit the pillow.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep when she heard James come home. Though he had taken great care to be quiet, there was nothing he could do to muffle the noise of the pipes as he took a shower.
Either she fell asleep again, or James had taken a two-minute shower, because her husband soon slipped into bed beside her. He smelled amazing. The scent of his shampoo and soap wafted around her, making her impossibly drowsier.
However, something felt… off. The room was charged and tension radiated from James. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he murmured her name. It was almost too quiet to hear, presumably because he hadn’t wanted to wake her if she’d actually been asleep.
Well, she wasn’t asleep.
“Yeah, love?” she asked, turning her head to look at him. She could barely make out his features in the dark, but his body was wound tight as a spring.
“Can we have a cuddle?” he whispered.
“Yeah, ‘course. Backwards or forwards?”
“Conventional spooning is fine.”
He wriggled up to her and pressed his body flush against hers and twined his arms around her middle until she was thoroughly anchored to him. She could feel the desperation in the embrace, and her heart squeezed. She leaned her head back into his chest and rested her hand on his arm, tracing small paths up and down his skin.
She let him hold her for a long moment before she asked, “What’s the matter, James?”
He was silent for a beat, with his nose buried into her neck. He brushed a gentle kiss to her skin, making goosebumps prickle across her body, before he said, “I got into a row with my mates. Well, one of them.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. Want to tell me about it?”
“Rodney and his wife are getting a divorce. That was why we all went out for drinks. I only found out when I got there,” he said. “But evidently I wasn’t being sympathetic or understanding enough.”
Rose frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you,” she said carefully.
“Rodney had been having an affair. His wife found out about it and threw him out of the house. And I just…” He shrugged helplessly. “I couldn’t manage to feel sorry for Rodney. Because how could he do that to his wife, y’know? How could he do that? He made a vow to love her always, to be faithful to her. I don’t understand how he could just… have sex with someone else.”
Rose gave his hands a squeeze, then shifted in his arms so she could face him. There was a prominent furrow between his brows, and she reached up to brush his fringe away from his forehead and to smooth her thumb across the deep line.
“You and I are so very lucky to be soulmated and dedicated to each other,” Rose said, tracing her fingertips across the planes of his face.
“Does that matter?” James snapped. “Is Rodney to be so easily forgiven or dismissed for his infidelity because he and his wife aren’t soulmates?”
“Of course not,” Rose said patiently, knowing James didn’t mean for his words to be so sharp. “I just meant that not everyone else is as lucky as we are. What we have together is so rare and so special; I cherish it every single day.”
The fight seemed to go out of him in a rush. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t reply; she merely continued to stroke his face with her fingertips. The rough stubble on his jaw scraped her skin.
After a silent minute, James spoke. “Even if we weren’t soulmated, I could never cheat on you. Even if we were just married and didn’t have the soulbond, I could never cheat on you. And even if it wasn’t you… I could never sleep with someone other than the person I was in a relationship with.”
Rose ran her fingers through James’s hair and pressed slow kisses to his corners of his mouth. He turned his head so that on the next press of her lips, he caught them head on. She hummed against his mouth as he kissed her deeply, threading his fingers through her hair to hold her closer.
When they broke apart, James croaked, “I can’t imagine having sex with anyone but you.”
Rose breathed a laugh. “That’s reassuring.”
“Honestly, Rose. I literally… I cannot even fathom it. Does that make me odd? That I can’t even fantasize about anybody but you? I… perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t think I could… y’know… get an erection to even have sex with another person.”
Warmth shot through her chest as she fell in love with her husband, her soulmate, her best friend, all over again.
“I love you. With all my heart, James. I love that you are so completely, wonderfully, wholly devoted to me.” She leaned up and brushed a kiss to his lips. “And if it makes you feel better… I can’t imagine having sex with anyone but you, either. You’re the only one for me. And you’re a damn good shag. There’s no one on earth who could do sex better than you, so why would I want to demote myself from the sex god I’ve already got in my bed.”
That did the trick. James barked out a surprised, pleased laugh, which dissolved into a round of giggles from the both of them. The tension melted away from his face as his face lit up in happiness and amusement.
“Oh, you impossible woman. I love you.” He pecked a kiss to her lips but then said, “Do you ever worry that you’re not as good at sex as you could be?”
“Er… no, but now you’ve got me slightly worried, thanks.”
“Oh! No! No, no, no!” His eyes widened, as though he realized how the words came out. “God, no! You’re bloody fantastic in bed, Rose.”
“Ohhh-kay,” she said slowly.
“I just meant… you and I, we’ve only ever had each other as sexual partners; therefore, we literally only have each other as a reference. And who knows. We could be absolutely rubbish at sex, and neither of us would know the difference.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “James. If you were any better in bed, I think you would make me pass out when I come.”
A high-pitched cackle bubbled up his throat, and he beamed.
“Seriously, though. You make me come, what, at least twice before you ever do. And sometimes we don’t even stop with one for you. God, James, sex with you is… it’s amazing, love. It feels so, so good and when we’ve finished, there is no part of me that is left wanting. You fulfill my sexual appetite so completely. And more than that, you satiate my emotional desires, too. I get to share my body and my pleasure with my best friend and love of my life. So no, I don’t worry that we’re rubbish at sex, because there is no bloody way we could be any better at it.”
He smiled at her and tugged her closer for another hug. “You’re extraordinary. I love you. Thank you for indulging my daft worries and making me feel better.”
“Anytime. I never want you to have any doubts about anything in our relationship.”
“I didn’t really have genuine doubts,” he said. “But my brain… well, you know how it can get.”
Rose pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I know. So I will continue to tell you how loved you are and how happy I am to have you as my soulmate.”
“Thank you.” He nuzzled his lips into her neck to press gentle kisses to it. “How was your night with the kids?”
She hummed and tilted her head back to give him a bit more room as pleasant tingles rippled down her spine.
“Good,” she answered. “Ordered food. Had a karaoke night.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” he whispered, tugging aside the collar of her shirt to continue his parade of kisses. “Rose…”
When he didn’t say anything, she prompted, “Yes?”
“Never mind,” he said, returning the collar of her shirt and smoothing it out.
She frowned as the delicious goosebumps that had broken out across her skin vanished. She shuffled to get into a position to better see him, but her thigh brushed against something stiff between his legs. She smirked and pressed her thigh snugly between his legs. He hissed.
“I assume your question had something to do with this?” she asked, wiggling her leg for emphasis.
She reached up and brushed his hair away from his forehead. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips to plant a kiss across each of her knuckles. “I dunno. I’m… I just… I feel… sad. I’m sad that I got into a fight with my friends. And I’m lonely even though you’re literally right here in my arms. But my heart just… hurts.”
Rose wrapped her arm around his shoulders and leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. His hand went to the back of her head, cradling it as he returned the soft pressure.
“I love you,” she murmured between kisses. “With everything I am, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he rasped, desperately tugging her closer. “Please… can we… can I make love to you?”
Rose nodded her consent then began wriggling out of her pajamas while James did the same. They were naked within seconds, and they twined together once more. There was not an inch of them that wasn’t touching the other.
They spent the next several minutes kissing each other and letting their hands wander anywhere they could reach. Rose tried to pour all of her love for James into her kisses and touches, which he reciprocated tenfold.
Their lovemaking was slow and leisurely, as if it wasn’t midnight and they had all the time in the world. James worshipped her, just as she worshipped him, bringing each other to the pinnacle of pleasure that left them breathless and trembling.
“Are you all right?” Rose asked in the afterglow, running her fingers through his slightly damp hair.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m feeling out of sorts, I guess.” He sighed and nuzzled closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. And keep you up.”
“Did you hear me complaining?”
“The opposite, rather,” he teased, and Rose was glad to hear the smile in his voice. “I distinctly remember you telling me “don’t stop”. Several times.”
“Quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, pinching his side.
He squirmed and batted her hand away. “Not as full as you were of myself.”
Rose groaned. “Oh, that was so bad.”
He giggled into her ear, and she echoed the sound.
They were quiet for a few minutes, each of them drawing lazy lines across each other’s backs, until James broke the silence. “I’m not looking forward to going to work on Monday.”
“I’m sorry. Do you see Rodney a lot in the office?”
“He’s the office beside mine,” James lamented.
“How about you wait and see how it plays out? When you’re not both drunk and your emotions have cooled…”
“I wasn’t drunk,” James huffed. “He bloody was, though. But it’s not just him. It was like everyone ganged up on me for being a wanker. I’m not the one who’d been cheating on my wife for months. Mark was the only one who seemed to have my back. Though he more or less stayed out of the discussion.”
Rose held him tighter. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” he lamented. “Me too.”
If you’ve read to the end, consider leaving a comment or reblogging? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
#ficandchips#doctorroseprompts#dwfic#doctor who#ten x rose#ten x rose au#james x rose#soulmates#soulmates au#soulmates verse#perfectly matched series#my fic#family of six#family fic#kid fic#baby fic#romance
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Taylor Swift And The End Of An Era
Love her or hate her, Taylor Swift embodied the contradictions of the decade in pop music
“I’m so sick of running as fast as I can,” Taylor Swift sings in the chorus of “The Man,” a song from her latest album, Lover. She chose the up-tempo tune to open her “Artist of the Decade” medley at the AMAs last month, and it’s a return to familiar Swiftian themes; she claps back at unspecified, sexist critics who fail to acknowledge her “good ideas and power moves.”
Whatever one might think of Swift’s underdog complex, it’s not surprising that the end of the 2010s finds her exhausted. Her transformation from tween country sensation to tabloid-friendly pop star to polarizing Twitter talking point and, finally, to celebrity supernova, required — at the very least — plenty of stamina.
There’s no question that straight white femininity still occupies a privileged place in the cultural landscape, which helped pave the way for Swift’s rise and decade-long pop dominance — even as she became a zeitgeisty symbol of that privilege and a target for those seeking to contest it. Yet as many of her similarly situated peers have faltered, she has endured as one of the last pop behemoths of her kind.
Time and again Swift strategically read and rode the decade’s cultural waves, deciding not just which trends and genres to jump on but, perhaps more importantly, what to pass on. As pop music became feud-centric reality television, there was Taylor; as stan culture transformed the way listeners interacted with performers (and each other), there was Taylor; as artists’ rights in the streaming era entered the conversation, there was Taylor; as politics infiltrated music, there was (sort of, eventually) Taylor.
There are definitely plenty of other contenders for Artist of the Decade (a title both the AMAs and Billboard recently bestowed on Swift) — artists who have hugely impacted pop music over the past 10 years and managed to ride out the seismic, industry-wide shifts they’ve contained, from Beyoncé to Lady Gaga to Kanye West. But you don’t have to think Swift was the “best” or even most significant artist of the decade to acknowledge that her cultural domination, and her ability to pivot and reinvent herself, captured many of the defining tensions of pop music over the last decade.
It’s hard to remember (in internet years) that before 2010, Swift was just a teen pop star and not yet a cultural lightning rod. She was already taken seriously as a musician and had plenty of cultural capital coming into the decade; in 2009, having already won Artist of the Year at the AMAs, she was about to accept a Video Music Award for Female Video of the Year when Kanye infamously interrupted her speech. In early 2010, she won Album of the Year for Fearless at the Grammy Awards, beating out Beyoncé and Lady Gaga.
Her early stardom revolved mostly around the fact that she was a precocious young country artist who wrote her own songs, without the risqué edge or sexy-but-wholesome cognitive dissonance of someone like an early Britney Spears to worry white parents and inspire pearl-clutching tabloid magazine covers. And it wasn’t really until Speak Now — when Swift was already a mainstream star but still categorized as country — that she began teasing the media and her fans about the ways her autobiographical lyrics mapped onto her real life, especially regarding the men she was dating.
People are still wondering whether Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” is about Uncle Joey, so it was startling for a young woman songwriter and musical celebrity of her commercial reach to use her songs to consistently craft such intimate stories about such equally public men, including Joe Jonas, Taylor Lautner, and John Mayer. And there was something uniquely bold about the way Swift started using her confessional songwriting and melodic sensibility to “get the last word” on her relationships, as People magazine framed it in her first cover story.
People hardly batted an eye in 2018 when Ariana Grande’s first No. 1 hit, “Thank U, Next,” literally name-checked her list of ex-boyfriends, and that’s in no small part because of Swift. Because even as reality TV stars like the Kardashians and Real Housewives were figuring out how to create multiplatform storytelling through social media, Swift was already pioneering the strategy in the big pop machine. Yes, she opportunistically used this to shame exes, create fodder for talk shows, and garner magazine covers; and even then, it raised some hackles about the way she was using her power. But it was undeniably compelling theater, and even nonfans were watching.
That multiplatform mixture of music and drama wouldn’t have succeeded without the undeniably catchy earworms Swift’s diary entries were wrapped in, or without the devoted fanbase of Swifties that she cultivated online. This all helped her break chart records with her most explicitly pop albums, including 2012’s Red and 2014’s ’80s-inspired 1989. The latter garnered the biggest first-week sales for a pop album since Britney Spears in 2002, helping Swift keep the tradition of the monocultural pop star alive.
But as Swift’s music saturated airwaves, and her willingness to tease behind-the-scenes details of her life in her songs moved beyond ex-boyfriends like Harry Styles (“Style”) into swatting at other pop stars like Katy Perry (“Bad Blood”) the public began to sour on Swift’s strategic use of her personal life in her music. (To Swift’s credit as a performer, no other pop star could sing the lyrics “Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes” about a dispute over a backup dancer with a straight face.)
Juxtaposed with Swift’s self-celebrating “girl squad” feminism, her opportunism — and seeming hypocrisy — started to rankle. By 2015, even racist sympathizer and critic Camille Paglia came out of the woodwork to anoint Swift a “Nazi barbie,” calling out her tendency to treat friends as props. And all these contradictions of Swift’s persona would come to a head when Swift’s seemingly buried feud with Kanye came roaring back the following year.
It makes sense that her clash with Kanye and Kim Kardashian West became the first time she experienced a real backlash. Unlike the drama around her dating life or with Perry, it was the first time Swift was up against equally savvy adversaries — celebrities who, like her, were professionals at merging their public and private lives.
The fight was a meta moment by design, inspired by West’s song “Famous,” where he raps: “I made that bitch famous.” In retrospect, it seems clear that West, as much a publicity-seeking pop diva as Swift, was trying to get the last word after going on an apology tour about the interruption heard round the world. Swift claimed to be annoyed over what she saw as the song’s credit-taking message, and she tried to make it part of her own narrative. “I want to say to all the young women out there,” she intoned in her speech accepting a Grammy for Album of the Year in February 2016, “there are going to be people along the way who will try to undercut your success or take credit for your accomplishments or your fame.”
In another era, Swift’s storyline might have won the day. Her publicist denied that she had approved the line in the song, despite Kanye’s claim that he had checked with her before releasing it. But celebrity narratives, to some degree, were no longer being decided just by white-dominated mainstream media. Black publications were the first to tease out the racial undertones of Swift’s lie in the ensuing “he said, she said,” specifically as a white woman playing on the ingrained sympathy and benefit of the doubt that white women are given in US culture.
Still, it wasn’t until Kim’s Snapchat leak that July — where Swift could be heard approving the song — that the Swift-as-victim narrative became a framework for understanding her entire career. Contemporary white pop stars like Grande and Miley Cyrus had faced musical appropriation backlashes, but this time it was Swift’s entire persona — not just her music — that were under scrutiny.
Swift’s memeable response to the leak — “I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative” — was followed by her own disappearance from the media landscape. By the time the 2016 election happened — amid the chatter about white women’s complicity in electing Trump — Swift’s refusal to take a political stand solidly cast her as a cultural villain, and her symbolism as an icon of toxic white womanhood was sealed.
If the clamor of social media (especially Twitter) was central to the Swift backlash, it was also central to her eventual resurgence. Over the past decade, social media (especially Instagram) has tipped the scales in celebrity coverage and helped celebrities tell their stories on their own terms, almost without intermediaries. Swift knew how to use that to her advantage and decided to play the long game.
By refusing interviews for 18 months, wiping her social media clean, and focusing on cultivating her Tumblr fanbase, Swift removed herself from the cultural conversation for a beat. This kind of brand management helped her keep an ear to the ground while in a self-imposed exile. But it’s as if the culture couldn’t stop conjuring her; rumors about her absence spread, including that she had traveled around inside a suitcase.
In August 2017, she wiped her social media clean and reappeared with a snake video — reclaiming the serpent emojis — in what was ultimately the announcement for her Reputation album, and which remains one of the most iconic social media rollouts ever. “Look What You Made Me Do,” the lead single, was endlessly memed — Swift couldn’t come to the phone, a perfect metaphor for her cultural disappearance and, perhaps, a kind of ghostly remake of the Kanye call. The album succeeded because it seemed as though Swift was finally open to owning her melodrama and messiness. She subsequently broke records with the tour and album sales.
Still, her political silence was affecting her image and music. By 2018, insipid corporate wokeness had become the order of the day, and Swift Inc. again pivoted musically and culturally. Swift came out for the Democratic candidates in the 2018 midterms, framing her support in terms of LGBTQ rights and racial justice. And this year, the second single from her latest album, Lover — “You Need to Calm Down” — was a perfect encapsulation of her politics of messiness, conflating anti-gay prejudice with Twitter drama. (And somehow turning the video into a celebration of pop queens supporting each other). This fall, she has made sure to include über-stan–turned–pop star (and video coproducer) Todrick Hall at her awards show moments, attempting to expand the range of racial and sexual identities included in what used to be her mostly straight white “girl squad” feminism.
For all of Swift’s success at updating her persona, she’s never quite regained her massive radio dominance — but no pop star can depend on the success of singles for over a decade. In fact, Swift is one of the most interesting figures of the decade because her stardom is caught between the old-school era of album buying and our current streaming moment.
And, inevitably, Swift has turned her own industry issues around streaming and artistic ownership into a wider commentary on artists’ rights — which happens to work as a canny form of further brand management. She framed herself as an ethical businesswoman when she called out Apple for not paying artists, and she battled with Spotify over streaming royalties but without really pushing for wider systemic industry change.
Earlier this year, Swift started a new artist-versus-industry fight about her music masters being bought out from under her by nemesis Scooter Braun. It’s a complicated story, one that Swift has framed as being about “toxic male privilege,” and the fact that Braun mocked her during the Kanye era — once again blurring, in her trademark mode, the personal with the public and the systemic with the individual.
Instead of being seen as opportunistic, Swift seems to have succeeded in framing her campaign as a fight for unsigned and less powerful artists’ rights, which has resonated at a moment where content creators are all pitted against the 1% of the tech and corporate worlds. This time, even Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez — a squad member any star would envy — backed her up.
Swift’s response to being anointed Artist of the Decade by the AMAs and Billboard provides interesting insight into how she sees herself now and where she thinks the next decade is going. She chose Carole King, one of the preeminent symbols of pop music authenticity, to present her AMA, squarely placing herself in a genealogy of great women singer-songwriters. She also enlisted shiny next-gen pop stars Camila Cabello and Halsey to join her during her performance of old hits.
In her Billboard speech, Swift name-checked newer stars like Lizzo, Becky G, and Billie Eilish as the future of the industry. Tellingly, they are women who, so far, have not played into the tabloidy pop dramas that dominated the 2010s. If this decade has shown us anything, it’s that blurring public and private through music can reap big rewards, but it also opens up stars — especially the women of pop — to more intense scrutiny and a higher degree of personal accountability.
In a Billboard interview looking back on the decade, Swift spoke about her relationship to fame and learning to hold things back. “I didn’t quite know what exactly to ... share and what to protect. I think a lot of people go through that, especially in the last decade,” she said. “There was this phase where social media felt fun and casual and quirky and safe. And then it got to the point where everyone has to evaluate their relationship with social media. So I decided that the best thing I have to offer people is my music.”
Like Lana Del Rey denying she ever had a persona, or Lady Gaga stripping down with Joanne, there seems to come a point when white pop divas need to declare themselves authentic and all about the music — as if their ongoing narratives aren’t part of the show. But the way Swift used her image and the never-ending soap opera that swirled around her to make space for her music in an increasingly saturated attention economy was itself a kind of art. ●
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Try to Remember (1)
Pairing: OFC Rae, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel
Summary: A forgotten memory surfaces and breaks Rae’s heart. How will the boys, with their own heartbroken history, help her heal?
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries/fatal injuries; grief; parent death; depression; angsty fluff
Rating: Mature due to descriptions of canon-type gore
Word Count: 3,700ish
A/N: We all love the funny moments with the brothers. But their sensitivity to someone else’s pain has always broken my heart a little, and I wanted to explore that. This is a companion piece to Life is Good (for you) & Just Desserts. You don’t have to read them to understand this story. This is my OFC Rae’s “origin” story.
A huge, sparkly, fluffy hug to my 2 betas @pinknerdpanda and @thesassywallflower. Ladies, you get all the Sam cuddles!
This is a work of fiction based upon characters created and owned by the CW. My work is not to be copied/distributed elsewhere without my written permission.
Playlist for this part: Sign Your Name - Terence Trent D’Arby
It started out as a good day.
On their way back from a hunt in eastern Illinois, Rae had squealed with excitement when she stumbled upon a Yelp listing for an ‘80’s themed diner. Located just outside of Olathe, Kansas, they were apparently famous for their retro cuisine and milkshakes. After shamelessly begging Dean to stop, he’d grumbled about wanting to get home until she said the menu’s magic words: Sloppy Joes. So convinced, the group had detoured to the charmingly dubbed ‘Mixtape Medleys Cafe’. Hair band posters plastered on the walls, Guns n Roses and George Harrison blasted from the jukebox, and a menu loaded with nostalgic delights were a welcome break from gas station food.
Dean was on his third Sloppy Joe sandwich, already rhapsodizing over the ‘Whatchmacalit’ candy bar milkshake he had ordered for dessert. Serious inroads made into his chicken caesar salad, even health-nut Sam had ordered something with actual, real sugar in it - a ‘Vanilla Cow Tale’ milkshake. Her plate of mini bagel pizzas stood empty as Rae laughed, waiting on her ‘Nerds’ milkshake. Another monster defeated, a nice young man saved, the three of them unscathed, and now their bellies were full and faces smiling.
It really had started out as a good day.
People talk about memories hitting them like a tsunami, or a ton of bricks. That’s not how it happened for Rae. It happened slowly. Like a glancing sprinkle of warm rain, barely noticeable. Then, another that spit into her face a bit. A pause, like the moment of calm before the unexpected thunderstorm when it was all blue skies and sunshine just a blink before.
One minute, Rae was laughing with the boys about something. Then, the distinctive drum beat tickled her ear. The reedy keyboard intro snagged her attention, and she glanced towards the jukebox across the diner. One heartbeat, two, and the unleashed memory wiped the smile from her face.
“Come on, honey, it’s our song!” her dad crooned, tugging her mom up from the couch. Rae giggled as her dad started grooving at the end of their outstretched arms, her mom rolling her eyes at his antics.
“You say that about every slow song, Alex.”
Smiling victoriously, Alex pulled her mom into his arms and began rocking side to side, winking at Rae where she sat on the floor with a book in her lap.
“But this is the one we danced to when I knew I was in love with you, Liz. So, it’s the most important.” Pecking a kiss to her nose, Alex pulled her closer to his chest and closed his eyes. “‘Sign your name across my heart, I want you to be my baby.’”
Shaking her head, Liz smiled fondly at her husband. “You still can’t sing, sweets.”
“‘Sign your name across my heart, I want you to be my lady!’” he yodeled out comically, drawing giggles from both girls. He tucked their entwined hands up into his shoulder and pressed a grinning kiss to her smile. Rae’s little nine year old heart warmed with happiness; her parents loved her and loved each other. She knew she’d remember their song forever.
And now, they were dead.
“...you okay?”
Rae flinched as a hand on her arm pulled her back to the present. She blinked at Sam seated next to her, then over at Dean. Shaking her head a bit to try and clear the fog, Rae drummed up a smile.
“Yeah. So, you duct-taped the guy to a chair, and started hacking the place with an axe?” Rae tried to pay attention as Sam told the story. But the crooning rock n’ soul voice had opened Pandora’s box, and more memories came pouring in. As the brothers’ chatter filled her ears, the bittersweet warmth of the recollection skirled into something cold. Instead of the cracked vinyl seat beneath her fingers, the raw bite of rope echoed in her wrists. The scent of french fries and sugar melted into smoke and camphor. And the images…
“Hey, there, honey bun! Here’s that milkshake for you!” The older, pink-haired waitress plunked the tall, frosted glass down in front of her with a flourish before she started teasing Dean about the saucy mess on his face. Lost in her head, Rae didn’t notice the woman collect up empty plates and promise the men their forthcoming desserts.
Pointing out missed smudges to Dean as his brother wiped up with a napkin, Sam’s gaze moved back to Rae. For someone who had completely geeked out over a ‘Nerds’ candy milkshake, she seemed to be uninterested in the beverage now. She stared blankly at the glass, off in her own world. Dean noticed her preoccupation, too, and reached over to give the glass a little nudge.
“Hey, Rainbow, it’s melting. Drink up!”
They watched as Rae blinked back to them from wherever she’d been, glancing back and forth between them before swallowing carefully and pushing the milkshake away from her.
“I changed my mind. You can have it.”
Dean’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I’ve got crispy-peanutty-caramel goodness headed my way. That’s all yours, make me proud.”
Without a word, Rae slid the glass towards Sam, offering it to him with a bob of her chin. Sending her a quizzical smile, Sam urged it back to her.
“Extra pink ‘Nerds’ on top. Just like you asked. And a cherry!” he crowed, nabbing the goody by the stem and dangling it out to her.
Normally her favorite part of a milkshake or sundae, the sight of the sweetness through the haze of her memories churned her stomach.
The smile she offered was a sad little effort. Now Sam’s eyebrows quirked, halfway to his famed ‘puppy dog’ eyes when Rae merely shook her head before getting to her feet.
“I’m gonna run to the ladies room. Be right back.”
When she didn’t add on her usual, ‘don’t leave me again’, the brothers looked at each other.
“Okay, something’s up. What did you do?” Dean demanded.
“Yeah, I know. Wait, what? Why does it have to be me that did something? What did you do?”
The elder Winchester scoffed in denial. “I’ve been here the whole time, minding my own business with my ‘Manwich’ perfections.”
“She was fine up until the last couple of minutes. What were we talking about?”
Dean scowled as he thought. “We were talking about that time we went to the Mystery Spot and I died a lot. She was laughing about you trying to keep me from eating breakfast.”
Shaking his head, Sam frowned as he glanced towards the bathrooms. “Something’s not right.” Their waitress, Cyndi, reappeared, her sparkly-blue-shadowed eyes narrowed with concern.
“Hey, fellas, that honey bun of yours not happy with her shake?”
Flashing her his most charming smile, Dean answered, “actually, she’s not feeling well. If it’s not too much trouble, could we get our two shakes to go? And the check, if you don’t mind.”
Cyndi hurried to take care of things, and two styrofoam to-go cups and the guest check were delivered promptly. As Rae appeared, the men got to their feet to greet her.
“Hey, Rainbow, you ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Dean asked.
Quiet, a little pale, Rae saw the concern they failed to hide and valiantly tried to swallow the lump in her throat and smile.
“Yeah, let’s get home.” As Robert Palmer began belting out ‘Simply Irresistible’, Dean tucked Rae into his side and sauntered them towards the Impala. Sam tossed some bills on the table and hurried to follow.
*********************************************************************************
Sam and Dean stole surreptitious glances to the backseat for the next thirty minutes or so. When the silence began to crawl on her skin like ants, Rae forced some life into her voice.
“How about some AC/DC?” The brothers flashed each other a look before Dean thumped Sam in the chest.
“You heard the woman! Gimme the good stuff, bro, and keep your cake hole shut!”
Sam’s annoyed tones, Dean’s cackling mixed together with the soft clatter of the tapes rummaging together as Sam fished out the designated cassette and popped it in. ‘Back in Black’ promptly blared forth, and as Dean began drumming on the steering wheel, Rae let herself curl up and fade in the lack of attention.
It was taking everything she had to hide it from them.
Seven months, three weeks, and five days. It had been an exercise in blissful hyper-focus to count it out as Baby ate up the miles. Seven months, three weeks, and five days since they’d died. The early days had been about healing. Then, after the brothers shared the truth of their family business with her, the later weeks had been all about reeling. After countless hours of inactivity, Rae’s broken heart had craved industry. Anything to keep her from looking at memories too closely. So, she’d put that Master of Library Science degree to use and become the best damn researcher the Winchesters had ever seen. The familiar rhythms of reading and analysis comforted her while the unfamiliar topics kept her wholly engaged. Engaged meant busy. Busy meant distracted. Distracted meant forgetting.
Forgetting meant she never had to grieve.
That grief, along with all the memories, bitter and sweet both, Rae cobbled into her own personal Pandora’s box. Then, she promptly ignored it, walking her days untroubled. Until one jukebox song cracked it open.
As the Impala rumbled its way into the bunker garage, Rae blinked into the quiet when Dean cut off the engine. Exhaustion suddenly swamped her, her feet heavy as Rae dragged herself out of the car. As she strode towards the stairs, Rae tried to straighten her shoulders.
They’re watching you. Look normal. You’re fine.
They’d seen her unconscious, peeved, sassy, laughing, focused. But this Rae they’d never seen. Quiet. Not just quiet, but almost...not there. Their sharp eyes missing nothing, the brothers chatted to each other with seeming nonchalance as they followed her down into the library.
“All in all, that wasn’t a bad trip.” Dean dropped his duffel on the table, tagging after Rae into the kitchen.
“Yeah, it was nice to have a regular milk run. I need to update the records,”Sam mumbled around a yawn.
Rolling his eyes, Dean strolled to the frig and opened it. “C’mon, man. We scored one for the good guys. It’s Miller time. Relax,” he urged, pulling out three beers and handing one to Rae.
She took it wordlessly, the glass cold against her fingers. The bunker’s scent of concrete, steel, old books, and gunpowder, so familiar a few days ago, now felt wrong.
It should smell like vanilla from Mom’s baking, and Dad’s Old Spice cologne. Deep voices from the brothers wavered into her thoughts distantly, and an awful lump grew in her throat. That should be Mom complaining about Dad always leaving his coffee cup on the counter, and Dad yelling from the back porch about someone hiding the grill utensils again. Like horrid little fiends, the memories leaked out of that carefully cobbled box. They roiled in her head like awful eels. I miss the creak of Mom rocking in her chair, and Dad snoring under his newspaper on the couch. I miss them holding hands when they walked together.
The lump in her throat grew, burning up into her eyes and blinding her. I want to hear Dad whistling while he does the dishes. I want to see Mom trying to carry all the clean laundry down the hall in one go, and cussing when she drops the socks. I want…
“I don’t know why you’re always so down on everyone except Metallica and Zeppelin. There’s other good music out there, Dean.”
“Whatever, Fall Out Boy. Hey, there was that song at the diner. Dad hated that song, but it was kinda cool.”
“Which one?”
The older brother scratched the back of his neck as he thought. “I think the singer changed his name, but it was Tony. Timothy. Terry?”
Cocking his head to one side, Sam frowned as he thought. “You mean, Terence?”
Dean pointed at his brother. “Yeah! Terence Trent D’Arby sang it. How did it go? ‘Sign your name across my heart?’” he mumbled out.
The sob that tore from Rae sounded like it was ripped straight from her soul, yanking their attention to her. The beer bottle slipped from her suddenly limp hand, smashing into foamy shards on the floor. They darted towards her when she wavered, Sam wrapping his arms around her before she collapsed knees-first into the broken bottle at her feet.
“Rae! Rae, what is it?”
“Rainbow, sweetheart, what’s going on?”
Their questions garbled into her ears as if she was underwater. Months of tears torrented through her, opening up an ocean of grief that pulled her under.
The agony left her drowning.
Sam’s heart pounded in his chest as he scooped Rae into his arms when she sagged against him, plopping to the floor and holding her in his lap. Dean knelt in front of them, his own heart chugging with alarm at Rae’s continued sobs.
“What happened?” Dean carefully brushed messy caramel-colored strands from her face. “Rainbow, talk to me!”
Distantly, Rae felt warm, rough hands on her face, strong arms surrounding her. A fleeting dart of awareness over the Winchesters’ alarm stitched through her, and she tried to speak, but her throat closed up over another choked cry. The urgent calling of her name had her desperately sucking at air as she tried again.
“What? What did you say, Rae?” Ducking his chin to try to look into her face, Sam tried to maneuver her so he and Dean could see her.
“S-saw...”
“It’s okay, Rae, just take a breath. We got you,” Dean tried to soothe her, keeping his voice gentle.
“The s-song-” The men blinked at the coughed out words. Sam’s mind spun as he tried to think.
“You mean, from the diner? The Terrence guy’s song?” Another harsh cry tore from Rae as she weakly nodded her head.
“Theirs.”
Gently squeezing her a bit, Sam quizzed her again. “Whose song, Rae?”
“M-muh….peh-peh...parents.”
Dean felt his windpipe squeeze as he looked up to meet Sam’s gaze. He saw his own memories in his brother’s eyes - their first meeting with Rae.
Baby’s doors groaned open before the car fully stopped. The brothers sprinted up the lawn, their boots sliding a bit on the rain-slickened grass. Smoke bit acridly into their faces when Dean kicked in the front door. Maniacal laughter mocked them as they took in the scene. Blood pooled steadily beneath a woman crumpled on the floor. A lone figure tied to a chair writhed as it burned. His horrid, awful screams clawed at them in jagged edges.
“Heil! All heil to the Thule!” cackled the young blond man rocking side to side feverishly. Aaron Bass hadn’t known the identity of the Thule operative wreaking havoc in the northeast, just that he and the golem couldn’t get there. His plea for help had sent the Winchesters hurrying to Bennington, Vermont. As Sam pointed his gun at Christoph Nauhause, the memory of letting him walk away from them once had both guilt and rage churning in their guts. A bullet in his brain silenced the peals of unholy glee, but the man immolating in front of them continued to scream out his agony. Dean knew the man was too far gone to save; frustrated tears and smoke itched in his throat as he aimed and fired. Abruptly, mercifully, the man died as his flesh burned around him.
Sam leaped over the sofa, crouching down beside the woman. The neat slice across her throat wasn’t deep enough to kill her outright, but the rapid blood loss pouring from the wound would soon enough. As Dean tried to extinguish the flames, Sam tried to comfort the dying woman.
“Shhh, shhh, just be still,” he whispered, grasping her shoulder to try and subdue her shaking. She didn’t so much as glance at him, her gaze fixed towards the wall. One hand tremored outward, reaching, pointing spasmodically as her breaths wheezed wetly from her. Sam followed the line of her hand, distantly hearing Dean curse behind him.
A young woman sat tied to another chair against the wall, hidden in the shadows. Blood from numerous, carefully placed stabs and cuts showed shiny in the flickering light from the fire. Tufts of ragged curls sliced from her hair dusted her front and lap. And her eyes, swollen, bruised, shone dark with dazed horror at the scene before her.
“Sam! Sam, the fire’s spreading, we gotta go!” Dean suddenly jostled against him, following his gaze to the girl. As one, the brothers strode urgently to her side, knives quickly slicing her free. Sirens began calling in the distance as Dean pulled at a stubborn length of nylon. “Let’s go!”
With a violent yank at the last tie, Sam scooped the limp girl into his arms, following Dean as the elder brother kicked flaming furniture to clear a path. In moments, the Impala roared away from the incoming sirens, Dean watching the emergency vehicles brake in front of the scene as he drove them away.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted.The impotence and desperation of the failure in the rearview mirror suddenly swamping him as he pounded his hand on the steering wheel. In the backseat, Sam swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, at a loss for words in the moment. A movement from the girl caught his attention, her head lolling back as she stared vacantly out the window. The whisper, nearly lost to the rumble of the engine, broke his heart.
“Momma...Dad…”
In the next heartbeat, she’d sagged into unconsciousness. They’d taken her to their hotel room, the next twenty-four hours a whole different battle. The brothers stitched her up, bandaged her, dosed her. They took it in shifts sitting up with her. Watching. Waiting. Not just for any sign of life. No, after that painful loss, the Winchesters were ready to take on whatever reaper dared to darken their doorstep. They wanted a win - needed it. Loss after loss weighed on the brothers like Atlas’ own burden.
Reaper, or hellhound, or whatever douchebag deity ruled the roost finally decided they were due a sliver of good luck. No one came knocking for her soul that night. They didn’t have to mourn another loss behind silence, whiskey, or work.
Slowly, over the crawling-by days, bandages and antibiotic cream were swapped out for lore books and the internet. She just seemed to fit, all at once, into a space in them they didn’t know was empty. She seized onto things with a tenacity that rivaled theirs. New resources of research opened before them with that librarian background. Dean even started grinning with pride at how she was coming along with her shooting (not that she was going to be let out of Baby on hunts anytime soon). Rae grew into that surprise space so smoothly and quickly, the brothers almost didn’t notice that she never mourned.
She was mourning now.
The pain squeezed her chest until she couldn’t breathe, her hands cold as she sank deeper into this ocean. Her body pulled at oxygen, and it fueled a sudden, awful rage within her. It geysered up out of her belly and into her head, ripping a shrill scream free.
“Why?! I wanna know why!” When her fists tightened in their shirts till the wrinkles pinched them, the boys didn’t even flinch at the sting. Sam squeezed her tighter as she screamed, eyes closed under the weight of her pain. Dean’s hands stroked her hair, a gentle answer as she thrashed in their arms.
Slowly. Slowly, the clangor caved to their quiet. She sagged spent and hiccuping in their arms.
“I don’t even know where they’re buried. I mean, it’s probably at Park Lawn. Dad’s parents are at Old Bennington, but Mom didn’t like it there. She didn’t want people tromping over her grave trying to find Robert Frost.”
“She didn’t like Robert Frost?” Sam asked quietly.
A sad, sorry chuckle croaked from Rae.
“She hated birch trees. Had one in our backyard that kept getting fungus. She held a grudge on the man for making the damn trees so popular.”
Dean dragged his fingers softly through her hair, squeezing her knee with his free hand.
“She held a grudge on a dead guy for a poem about a tree?”
“Yup.” Her chin quivered back another sob. “Daddy had me researching arborists to try and save it for her again.” She shrugged her shoulders, a loose, weary move as she swallowed the stickiness in her throat. “And now they’re gone. Me, too, I guess.”
Sam felt his heart pounding on the lump in his throat as he let himself hug Rae the teensiest bit closer against his chest. Let his chin rub against her hair just a breath.
“You’re not gone, Rae. I know - I know it’s hard. Just try to remember that you’re here. And we’re here.”
The message hung loud and clear in the quiet, their comfort an anchor in the torrent that still tugged at her. For whatever reason, her life had been spared. Purpose still existed for her. Friendship, camaraderie still surrounded her.
If Dean’s gaze urged his brother to voice anything softer, warmer than friendship, Sam’s bitch face shot him down as Rae tiredly rubbed her eyes.
“Hey, Rainbow. Why don’t you go take a hot shower? I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”
Her eyes still dim, she tried to smile for Dean.
“My hot chocolate or Dean hot chocolate?”
Easing back on his heels, Dean took her hand as he and Sam both helped her up.
“There is nothing wrong with a shot of rum in hot chocolate. Delicious and nutritious!” he proclaimed. His words had the desired effect as a bigger smile tugged at her features.
“Can’t argue with that.”
Sheepish eyes ducked away from their gazes as Rae squeezed their hands and headed for the hall. A moment later, they heard her bedroom door shut. They stared at each other, the heaviness of the scene still playing on them.
“We’ve gotta tell her, Sam.”
“I know.”
A/N: Liked it? Read part 2 HERE.
#try to remember#sam winchester#dean winchester fic#sam winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fanfiction#sam x ofc#dean x ofc#supernatural fanfiction
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Surprises
Amber had come by to drop of the most recent shipment of delivery boxes for him, and to discuss options for the holiday in February. Business almost always gave way to pleasure in their conversations, the consequence of friendship with a cook. The consequence of friendship with an attractive, friendly cook with a nice butt and a lovely face and...whew. Focus, Amber...
"So! What confections and sweets will you be offering this year for the holiday?"
"Think I might try t'keep it relatively simple, try goin' easy on m'self just once an' see 'ow it treats me. A few specials, 'igh end, but not twenty of 'em like I did b'fore."
Leon drew out a narrow box about a foot long and two-ish inches wide with his finger. "Li'l six-piece truffle trays."
Her gaze followed the air-doodling and she nodded, "May I take a sketch home with me? For measurement purposes as I assume you will be needing these in the proper colors, and please don't remove the chocolate covered caramel medley! I loved those last year. I only ordered a dozen boxes for myself."
He nodded and quickly dragged out a bit of scrap paper and a pencil to actually scrawl out the measurements he'd been looking for, including a quick circle to rough out the approximate size of the truffles themselves.
She grinned sheepishly, "The salted caramel and orange infused caramel centers were my favorite. I couldn't get enough! I swear, I gained five pounds."
No matter how many times she--or anybody else--complimented his food, he seemed to respond the same way every time, ducking his head a tiny bit and smiling bashfully. "...Wouldn't dream of it. You an' 'alf th' Mage Quarter, all over th' caramels. I was thinkin' about at least one spicy one, an' one usin' a peach liquor a friend o' mine introduced me to at a weddin'."
"I wouldn't be opposed, though I can not be held responsible for anything I do or say should I become drunk on them. Are you doing a mint liquor truffle this year? If so, I may have to buy a few of those." She grinned sheepishly, as she tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear and idly nipped at the corner of her lip.
She'd caught that sheepish look and it made her heart flip out of control for a few moments. Her breath even hitched at the sight before she managed to shake it off and refocus. FOCUS, AMBER, FOCUS!
Leon, at least, seemed to be mostly focused on business for the time being. Made sense, get him talking about food and he'd be busy for hours. He stood up from his chair and went a bit further down the storage room, picking along the racks until he found the right tray and pulling it out just a bit.
"Don't think that'd be too common? I do a coupla mint cookies as part o' th' normal stock."
“Truffles and cookies are not the same. And I'd personally attempt to buy you out of stock if you did chocolate mint truffles." She called out to him while watching him go through his storage. With him not looking at her and a good distance between them, she finally spoke up on another topic.
"Vae asked me to marry him."
That made him pause, but only for a few seconds before he put the tray back into place and moved a bit further down to pull another. Taking up a couple pieces of something, he return to his desk, all smiles, and held out a little slice of what turned out to be vanilla cake for her. "Tell me."
Upon his return, he noticed the rise in nervous energy that seemed to consume her as she took the offering with both hands and lifted her shoulders in a gentle shrug. "I said no...the first time." Almost immediately after that, she forked a large mouthful of cake into her orifice so that she didn't have to say more for the moment.
Yep, she was definitely nervous. If that surprised him, he wasn't showing it, only sitting back down in his chair and leaning back, attentive and, unfortunately for her, quiet.
She swallowed her cake with some difficulty before setting aside the plate with a gentle sigh and admitting, "Vaerinis is an elf. And while I love him more than anything I realized that he would outlive me by... centuries, and it just didn't ...feel right? So," She swallowed again, braving a look at him,"I made a decision in large part due to your influence."
She didn't have to be a genius to see the worry on his face at that. Had he wrecked a home without even doing anything? "'Ow so?"
She smiled at him as an offer of small reassurance. "It dawned on me that a person can love more than one person, equally and in different ways. You do it, after all. So I spoke to him about the possibility of opening our relationship in a manner that would allow him to explore that should he ever be inclined, and explained to him my worries and concerns when it came to us."
Again, she was tucking hair, a nervous tick of hers that she couldn't help right then. "After much debate and a few tears, mostly on my end, he understood and we agreed to a polyarmorous...I think that is the term...relationship, with one caveat."
She finally held up her hand to show the engagement ring to him, "We are only to be married to each other and no others so long as I live. His only demand for the entire thing."
It took him a little while after she started her explanation for him to fully process what she'd said, partially due to his worry that he'd offended. Once that had been firmly shunted aside, he could actually think, announced by a few more rapid blinks and a certain slackness in his jaw. His mouth hadn't fallen open, but it seemed like it could at any time.
By the time she'd finished, he was smiling again, and properly this time. There was, after all, a brand new engagement band in front of him, and it wasn't on a fist headed rapidly toward his eye. "That's fan-bloody-tastic, Amber! Congratulations! I... well, I can't say I'm not pretty shocked t'ear tha' from you."
She laughed as that nervous energy briefly fled in the wake of his excitement for her. "I can't say that I didn't surprise myself when I brought it up, but then again," She ducked her gaze, a crimson hue staining her cheeks as her nervousness returned full bore, " I can't say I wasn't shocked when I found myself admitting that he wasn't the only man I had deep feelings for."
In a perfect world where a merciful god not only existed, but paid direct attention to Amber in particular and thought she rather deserved some help, Leon would be perceptive when it mattered most. Unfortunately, such was not the world they lived in, and Leon was still Leon, and he only saw a girl wanting to gush to her friend about a crush she'd finally gotten to act on.
"Well, g'on, tell me 'bout 'im, then. Makes you flush tha' way, must be good."
She blushed all the more, now completely unable to even look at him. Her hands came up to tuck hair behind both ears as she attempted to capture scattered thoughts and spoke with that nervous stammer she always got when completely flustered.
"W..well. He is a m-m-man with a k-kind heart. C-Com-Compassionate. G-Giving. V...very giving. He has the most amazing b-b-blue eye. H... He can cook and he has always made me f-feel welcome and ..s...safe. H...he never hesitates to offer advice or an ear when I need it, or a shoulder to cry on and his name is Leon."
The last few words were almost a whisper as she shrank back slightly and waited for his reaction with a twisted brow.
The smile on his face, all but ever-present, slowly gave way as Amber's speech went on and his brain's maintenance guy tried desperately to reignite the pilot light. It finally flared back to life about two seconds before she came right out and said his name, but of course at that point all he could do right away was stare while his mouth went dry.
His voice was similarly whispery when he finally managed a weak, startled, "Me?"
And that was when the full blown panic set in. She was immediately waving her hands in front of her and shaking her head as she stammered and stumbled, "Please don't think that I expect anything! I would never expect--”
“Amber?”
“--it to be returned. It's just that you are so sweet and giving and everything I was taught that a man was supposed--”
“Amber.”
“--to be and I think I knew down that I loved you months ago but I never said anything because I respect you too much and I know you are married and I was with someone!"
“Amber.”
She finally whimpered then groaned as she started to scoot from his desk, fully intent on fleeing the scene, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I.. I should go. Yeah, I should go--”
"AMBER."
He stood from his chair as she turned away from him and brought his hand down on her shoulder. It was a firm enough grip to make himself known, but not enough to restrain her if she really wanted to escape him in that moment. "Deep breath. Right? Breathe for me."
It was the combination of that last Amber, his hand and her own suddenly smooshing the remainder of her slice of cake that managed to get her to shut up. She was slow to look up at him, emerald eyes as wide as saucers as she'd clearly just put herself into a near fullblown panic.
Deep breath. She gulped on air. Breathe for me. She tried but her lungs felt so tight that she was near hyperventilating while gulping air more than actually breathing it.
He'd been so very loud a moment ago, more so than she'd likely ever heard him go short of when he was chasing a thief. Now, he was speaking softly like there was a sleeping child in the next room, or like he was coaxing a deer to eat from his hand. ... He knew better than to make either of those comparisons aloud. "Easy, babygirl. Once more. Breathe in, wait, breathe out. Got all th'time in th' world, right?"
It felt like an eternity between breaths, but, she soon managed to find breathing with a relative ease despite the fact that she refused to look up at him, having focused on a button on his chef's jacket instead. "I'm sorry," She mumbled in a raspy little voice that still tremored heavily with the fear she still felt at having possibly ruined a friendship.
"Whatever for?" His fingertips brushed across her cheek, not making any attempt to force her to look at him. Right now force seemed the last thing she needed, even less so than restraint. "You've brought me such 'appy news."
His touch was a welcome one, despite the fact that even in her current state, it still managed to make her pulse thread dangerously. Swallowing down her heart as it felt as if it had become lodged in her throat, she bemoaned, "Yes, and then I had to go and ruin it by opening my big mouth."
"Could be worse. Coulda tripped int' me again."
His reward was a frown as she fiddled with her own fingers, just kind of attempting to wipe the ruined cake from them as she murmured, "I think I would have preferred that to this blubber up."
"Kin I offer another option?"
"Of course." She finally managed to glance up at him as if to gauge his thoughts and just how badly she just ruined things between them.
First, he kissed her forehead. Amber's eyes drifted closed, semi-relieved by the action only to frown as he said, "Never apologize." She opened her mouth to argue, "But to not apologize would be r--" but she never got to finish that thought as Leon's lips covered her own.
A series of events happened in a matter of seconds. Initially, there was shock, her body stiffening as she hadn't been expecting that. Then confusion before that was quickly followed up by a muffled whimper as her hands twisted into his chef's jacket and she actually, tentatively kissed him back all while thinking this was just another of those dreams...
The Cookbook closed a bit early that evening, and the chef was seen leaving in a bit of a rush, disheveled and carrying a delivery bag and a bottle of what looked like wine.
He only briefly stopped at home, both to pick up a few things, and to let his wives know, “It ‘appened again” and not to expect him until late. Pin joked that they needed to buy a ranch at this rate, rather than build a house. Leon couldn’t find it in him to argue.
( @theshadowborn @pinpep @shckaewynn )
#leon#amber#HOW DOES HE KEEP DOING THIS#modified chatlogs#collab#he is a magnet#he needs to stop being nice to people#TLDR friendship not ruined#the harem consumes all
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CiONTU Day 2
I wasn’t planning on translating much (if any) for a while due to work and study commitments, but the ending message of Day 2 really touched me. It also appears that quite a few things were cut from the broadcast, much of it playful banter between Yuzu and the skaters, or Yuzu and the crowd. So, I’ve tried to compile what I’ve gathered from tweets here too. To make up for the lack of subs
dailymotion
“The day we were struck by tragedy, was pitch black, and there was nothing at all.”
Full translation under the cut.
Tweets at the very bottom.
Um, Continues With Wings, how was it?
Thank you.
*pants* Um, as I said just now, today is the day that marks 2 years from the Kumamoto Earthquake, um, on this (kind of) day, like this, well, being able to skate a program that also means a lot to me (t/n: Etude), I think that was a good thing. Um, really, without everyone's support, being able to skate like this is something that would never have come true for me after all. Really, for giving me, so, so, so much support up till now, thank you very very much.
*collapses into a bow*
The "continues" that I spoke of in the opening was referring to the fact that everything I have received up till now has continued into who I am today but, the "continues" that I am about to speak of, will, for sure, continue on into everyone's life from here on. That's the kind of meaning of "contizu-" *stumbles over word* "continues" that I'd like to make.
Ah, we, ah, the earthquake, there was the earthquake,
And ah... mm, it was hard...Right now like this, right?
There are so many lights shining at me, and I'm standing in front of everyone, feeling everyone's gaze upon me, and I am speaking like this but...
The day we were struck by tragedy, was pitch black, and there was nothing at all. The light of the moon, and the light of stars, were extremely pretty, and that in particular, was like what I always skate to, Notte Stellata. It was that sort of scene. I think probably, the people struck by the Kumamoto Earthquake too, felt like that too. But, right now, everyone is watching (me) like this, those eyes that see me, those eyes to me...are like the stars. *laughs*
Precisely because everyone is watching me like this - the spotlight is really bright but - precisely because everyone is watching, I can be here like this, with everyone's light coming together, I can shine here like this. I really do think this way. Everyone, thank you for lighting my way.
Thank you
Um, from here on, there's still a long - well I can't really say that *laughs*
Until my goal is achieved, until my feelings are satisfied, for just a little longer, I will continue competing.
Thank you very much. *collapses into another bow*
Then, then, I will say thank you very much. Everyone say thank you too ok? I'm gonna say it, I'm gonna say it ok?
THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!
Thank you.
*right before walking through the curtains*
Let's meet again ok?
Things that were cut:
(Please remember that these are just translations of fan tweets based off their memories from 1 month ago, none of these are exact transcriptions of Yuzu’s words, even if I may put them in quotations for easier reading. I’ve tried to put them in the order of the show. All translations link to tweets, and are not full translations because I cut out all the “they cut this too...” parts)
During the talk with Mura:
1) (In response to Yuzu’s surprise that Mura came on stage with his skates still on)
Mura: I didn’t have time to take them off
Yuzu: Yeah that’s true *laughs*
2) When talking about (Yuzu) having the whole package, Yuzu said “But it’s of a low level” and gestured “no no no”, to which the whole audience protested
After Intermission
Yuzu: “Did you go to the toilet? Did you buy the goods? About the goods...I’m sorry it’s mostly just clear folders...”
When talking about the hydroblade in SEIMEI
Yuzu, when watching the video of himself: “My eyes look like I’m going to kill someone.”
Not sure when
After the crowd became silent when he picked up the mike, he joked
”You’re all well trained!!”
Program Medley, after Etude and right before Parisienne Walkways
Yuzu: “Right, so I just finished Etude...ahh this step sequence is really hard you know. This, can’t be compared to something like Zigeune, right? (Etude) really just ended so it may be hard for you to go along with the change in emotion (going into the next program) but - it’s hard for me too but - But this is a program that I really want everyone to enjoy so, please shout and scream out! (last link has video)
Yep he called Zigeunerweisen “Zigeune”. He also called Hope & Legacy “Hopu-Rega” which is the Japanese short form for it. In other words, Yuzu definitely goes on twitter.
After the Finale
(he nearly missed his part)
He said that he didn’t have time to change costumes
Yuzu: “Etude’s costume is difficult...”
Yuzu: “Did everyone enjoy yourself? That’s great...” the last bit of which was said in a whisper.
(video in tweet, so this is a direct trans) Yuzu: So many voices called out to me, I felt like I became Prince Shotoku. *laughs* But I heard all of them.
Somewhere at the very end
He was referring to something he spoke about with Johnny (note it’s not exactly clear if Yuzu said all of this, or Johnny did, or if it’s a mix of what they said. Another tweet that only had part of the words also said he cried at this part sorry, it’s slightly unclear but probably the fan is the one who cried)
Yuzu: A lot of things are said (about us) but, (I realised that) when we are hurt our fans too are hurt. Amidst all of that, thank you for calling out to me. Thank you for loving me. I’m going to stake my life just a little more so, please give me your strength””
#yuzuru hanyu#ciontu#mytranslations#this boy is too sweet#also it's one thing to watch yuzu do 90deg bows#it's quite another to see him collapse into his bows#or literally drop into a knee bow#and his cute bow to tsuzuki sensei#I am very very sad that they cut the sad stuff#and the little interactions he had with mura#i'm sure there are more#i wonder what was cut from day 1 :(
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Short Horror Story
It started like any other day. He woke to a shrill alarm which he snoozed three times before getting up to pull back the curtains. It was windy and dull outside. The radiators gurgled as the heating kicked in. He yawned, stretched, and shivered in his shorts and t-shirt. He took far too long in the bathroom, scrolling on his phone, and ended up running late. He skipped breakfast, hopped around his bedroom struggling to fit into a pair of odd socks, sniffed three shirts before finding a clean one, and put his shoes on the wrong feet.
The rest of the house was still cold, and dark. He switched the landing light on before turning off his bedroom lamp and walked slowly down the stairs into the dark hallway. He chanced a glance through the banisters on the upstairs landing where he could see through the gap under his housemate’s bedroom door. A pair of socked feet stood in the middle of the room amongst a pile of dirty clothes and food wrappers. He silently commended his friend for getting up so early as he rushed through the hallway to grab his bag and leave. As the front door clicked shut behind him, he felt a sharp tug at his stomach. Cold raced through his veins. He remembered his housemate was gone for the week. Away for some family wedding.
He was home alone.
So, what was…? He shook his head. Must have been a pair of shoes or something. He put his headphones in and headed for the bus stop. He laughed at himself; maybe he should take a break from the horror films. His thoughts started to wander as he waited at the bus stop but kept coming back to that image. He sent a message to his housemate asking, nonchalantly, when he was coming back. He wasn’t scared, God no, just lonely. Two feet in the middle of the room… clear as day. He even thought he had seen the toes wiggle, like people do when they’re cold. His housemate had complained of cold even when the heating was on, wearing hoodies while he relaxed in shorts… and noises when he was home alone. But, no, it couldn’t have been. They were shoes. He was imagining it. The bus rolled up and he stepped on, hoping to get a window seat.
By the time he reached the university he had almost forgotten all about it. A good playlist and pleasant bus ride had put him in a good mood. But lectures quickly dampened his spirits. The day passed slowly as he tried not to fall asleep on his keyboard. Every time he was about to doze off, he saw the feet in the middle of the room again, and his imagination ran wild. By five o’clock the fear and curiosity were back in full force. Faced with an evening alone he knew he’d have to check it out to be sure the room was empty, and he was safe. He was first to leave his last lecture, bustling past shuffling students to rush for the bus. Quick though he was, a large crowd had already gathered at the stop. Restless and determined to get home, he decided to walk. The cold bit through his jacket and lampposts flung long shadows across the pavement. It did little to settle his nerves.
He dropped his keys – twice – trying to unlock his front door, and quickly turned the hallway light on and slammed the door shut behind him when he got inside. He stood, back against the door, listening for a moment. Nothing seemed out-of-place; nothing felt different. A few takeaway leaflets piled on the doormat and the washing up in the kitchen had started to smell, but nothing seemed weird. Still, he was nervous. He flung his bag and coat into the living room just off the hallway and headed up the stairs. The wood creaked underneath his boots. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something, someone, was waiting for him. He paused again when he reached the bedroom door. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. What would he do if something was inside? Who could he tell? How would he get rid of it?
Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing in there!
So why are you evening looking?
He shook his head. His hands clenched into fists at his side. I have to be sure. He kept telling himself go on, do it, open it, stop being an idiot. He breathed deeply, steeled himself, and reached out. The handle squeaked as it went down. The door swung open and revealed –
Mess. A lot of mess. Just like he saw through the gap that morning, clothes littered the floor along with empty crisp packets and crumb covered plates. Unlike that morning, there were no feet. No signs of life at all. He looked around the room, checking behind the door and twitching the curtains. He shook his head and left. What a twat, scared of your own home.
He walked into his own bedroom and shut the door tightly behind him.
The next day he woke up late. The house was nice and warm, and it was bright enough outside that natural light filled the rooms. With no university to attend, he spent the morning cooking breakfast and catching up on TV shows. By the early afternoon he was shut up in his bedroom for a few hours of study. The soft sound of typing and clicking accompanied the quiet music filtering out of the computer speakers. With his housemate gone, he found it easier to study.
Until the noise started.
At first, it was easy to ignore. It became background noise, a muffled thudding from next door. Living in between two other student houses meant a lot of random noises at random times of the day; he wasn’t bothered. He hoped it would pass soon.
Instead, it got louder. Still muffled but harder to ignore. Annoyed, he turned up the music and tried to focus on his reading. Almost as if in response, the noise grew even louder. He realised it sounded like a door opening and closing; perhaps the neighbours were having an argument, slamming doors and yelling. He heard no voices but settled on the thought. He turned his speakers up and the noise faded away again, almost indiscernible among the bass.
Not for long.
It grew not only louder but quicker, more frantic. For God’s sake, he sighed, pausing his music. He’d have to go get his headphones from his bag downstairs. Just as he reached out for the door handle the noise stopped, completely cut out. He stood for a second, listening, but all he could hear were birds and cars outside. He returned to his desk, sighing. Student living.
His music started up again and a few moments of comfortable quiet passed as one song smoothly transitioned into another. A peaceful piano medley calmed his nerves, he settled down to his study. Then, the noise, louder again! He could have sworn it came from behind him. He jumped, arms flying out and knocking pens and pencils to the floor with a clatter. This is ridiculous! He turned his speakers up as loud as they would go. The piano chords struck harshly against his ears; he was determined to fall into the rhythm and continue his work. But the noise, the noise! That can’t be the neighbours.
He collected his pens and pencils off the bedroom floor and sat staring at his door. He paused the music again and moved to press his ear against it. He could feel small vibrations through the wood, could even hear the handle and hinges squeaking with the force of movement. The noise was inside the house. He pinpointed it to the left of his room – his housemate’s empty room.
Terror filled him. He reached for the handle. His heart thumped in his chest. As soon as his fingers grasped cold metal the sound stopped. A definitive click echoed as the door closed one last time. Slowly, he let go. He hesitated, staring at the yellowing paint. He considered going to check everything was okay but ultimately decided not to tempt fate, returned to his desk instead and tried to continue working. I’ll have none of that ghost bullshit.
He scrolled steadily down the document he was supposed to read, words whizzing past his unfocused eyes. His mind whirred as it tried to make sense of it all. Maybe it was the neighbours decorating again, some DIY? But it sounded too close and they just finished redecorating two months ago. Maybe his housemate left his window open, and the noise was outside? But no, the window was closed yesterday, and that didn’t explain the vibrations on the door. He couldn’t hear anyone walking about in the house, hadn’t heard any other doors open or footsteps up the stairs. It was only a small house, hard to sneak around. What if they were already in the house? No, that was ridiculous. He couldn’t let himself get carried away. Everything was fine. His housemate would be back tomorrow night, and everything would be normal again.
He managed to make another half page of notes before the noise started up again, just as loud as before. Angry, desperate for peace, he slammed his hands down on the desk and stormed towards the bedroom door but again the sound stopped just as he touched the handle. Fear struck again but his anger was stronger, and he yanked open the door with a growl and stepped out into the hallway. The empty hallway. Both the other doors were shut, as he had left them. The silence of the house began to feel oppressive. His anger faded. He looked around his room, searching for a weapon. A forgotten hockey stick had fallen in the gap between his drawers and the wall; a remnant of the optimistic athlete he had been at the beginning of the academic year. He grabbed it. Tested its weight in his hands. Looked at himself in the mirror; nodded. He felt more confident now. He approached the other bedroom door. As the floorboards creaked beneath his feet, he remembered the previous morning and the socked feet he saw. Goosebumps prickled his skin. Still, he continued, slowly opened the door and peeked inside. It looked exactly as it did the day before, and he didn’t dare venture further inside to prove otherwise. He shut the door behind him as he left and started to check the rest of the house. The further he moved down the stairs the stronger the feeling was that someone stood on the landing upstairs, watching. He stared at the carpet, refused to look up. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, live in a haunted house.
When his foot touched the cool tiles of the downstairs hallway he turned and looked back up the stairs behind him. Nothing. He slowly leaned back to look up at the landing. More nothing. He nodded to himself and began to search the house. He peered into each room one by one, only slightly jumping at humanoid shadows and unexpected noises. His hands began to ache, but he didn’t relax his grip. There were no broken windows; the doors were locked. Nothing had moved or been taken. The house was clear. Dusty, smelly, but clear. He was alone.
Why didn’t he feel like it?
He slept fitfully that night. Unable to focus, he had abandoned his studies and instead lost himself in videos, games, and social media for the rest of the day, with headphones blasting music the whole time. He left his room just once, a desperate trip to the bathroom he could hold off no longer. At half ten he lay in bed listening to an audio-book read by Stephen Fry. He was hungry but didn’t dare go downstairs, instead scrounged what he could from his backpack and desk drawer. Some forgotten Christmas chocolate, a few mints. It would have to do. He had almost messaged into the group chat to tell his friends all about what had happened, but embarrassment stopped him. They’d just tease him and say he was just scared of the dark, of being alone. He was, but they didn’t have to know that, to know he’d locked his door and left the desk lamp on to chase away shadows.
Even with the volume at max some noises filtered through. Each and every one of them was treated like a threat and shot a thrill of fear through his body. The wind whistling through the gaps of the blocked-up fireplace sounded like someone humming, he was sure. The house creaked and groaned under the weight of an assailant’s footsteps, coming for him. An unexplained tapping came from the hall; fingers tapping at his door? It took a long while for him to relax, but by one am he could stay awake no longer.
The audio-book stopped playing at precisely twelve minutes past four. His phone had died. He still slept, tangled in the sheets, headphones gathered around his neck. He tossed and turned. The wires wound tighter and tighter. He frowned and groaned in his sleep as they stretched and pulled and dug into his skin. Discomfort woke him up with a start. He clumsily moved his hands to rub away the irritation, eager to sleep more. He felt the wires, then a jolt of fear. He sat bolt upright, clawing at his neck, desperate to untangle himself. They gave way quickly, and he almost smiled as he pulled them away. It was not the first time he’d woken up in this way. Then he felt resistance. The wires were moving as if by themselves, tightening more and more, snaking and slithering like a boa constrictor. He moved frantically but the wires were strong, heavy somehow, he couldn’t move them. His nails scratched at his skin, drawing blood, but he couldn’t feel the sting. He was numb. He choked and gurgled, writhed in the bed. He fell out, head smashing against the dresser, knees exploding with pain against the floor. His vision darkened, he felt lightheaded. Oh God, this is how I die?!
The wires loosened. He thrust his hands forward and pulled them clear from his neck. They fell to the floor, limp, not moving. Normal. He gasped, gulped, hungry for air. Tears streamed down his face, mingled with spit and snot, and dribbled into his open mouth. He spat. Clutching his head, he collapsed back against the wall. The headphones were shining in patches, stained by his blood and spit. He poked them. They didn’t move. He poked them again, twice. Nothing. He balled them up in his fist, opened his window, threw them out into the garden and slammed the window shut. He turned the light on and caught sight of his reflection in the glass. Red faced, teary-eyed, covered in shit. Disgusting. He drew the curtains closed and wiped his face with the towel hanging on the back of his door. He checked it over; his head wasn’t bleeding, but he’d bruise something awful.
He stood in the middle of the room clutching the towel until his heartbeat slowly calmed, and his breathing returned to normal. The more he thought about it the more he doubted what had happened. Was it a dream? Did he just scare himself because he was half asleep, confuse himself by falling out of bed? Or did he really just get attacked by a pair of fucking headphones? Headphones aren’t sentient, dickhead. Something must have been moving them, which means something made them stop. Are they taunting me? Am I going insane?
He stayed awake after that, covers pulled up close to his chin, and watched the light change as night slowly broke into day. Winter sun eventually shone through the red curtains, bathing the room in a faint shade of pink; peaceful birdsong fluttered in from outside. He did not feel at peace. He was confused, unsure of what had really happened to him, and in pain. He was not looking forward to another day alone and sent a silent prayer to whatever good forces were watching that his housemate would return that night as planned.
After a few more minutes where his mind went around in circles, he gathered the courage to get up. The floorboards creaked under his feet as they always did, and he froze. He listened. There were no signs of movement in the house; nothing he had disturbed. Slowly, he started his usual morning routine. The curtains were pulled back and he squinted at the light, stretched, and rubbed his eyes. He winced as his hands brushed against his forehead. A look in the mirror confirmed his suspicions; he had bruised, badly. I can’t go outside like this. People would stare, pull faces, judge him. If he bumped into someone that knew him, they’d ask questions and he’d have to make up an excuse. He was terrible at lying but how could he tell anyone what he thought had happened? I bumped into the cupboard door. Hard. Oh, they’d never believe that. I fell down the stairs? No, I fell out of bed, hit my head on the dresser. That’s kind of true. Close enough to the truth that he’d feel comfortable saying it, anyway. Just don’t tell them you think you’re being haunted. He could already hear people laughing at him. He stared at his reflection. I have to cover this up somehow…
He tried to stay quiet as he got dressed, as if he could avoid drawing attention to himself and be left alone. He dug around the wardrobe for a hat, cursing as a string of belts clattered noisily against wood, and found only a beanie he was given during fresher’s week. It was a bit too tight for comfort and bore the logo of some random club, but it covered most of the damage. He didn’t look too bad in it, either. He appreciated his appearance in the mirror for a moment before heading to the bathroom. He hesitated briefly at the door. It felt like something was waiting for him to emerge. His bedroom felt safer in the daylight, warmed by the radiators, his bed soft and so close by. No, he couldn’t stay. He had to leave the house, get somewhere truly safe, populated. Plus, he needed to pee. He grabbed his wallet and keys off the desk and swung the door open, waiting a second before leaning out. The hallway was empty. He jogged over to the bathroom and bolted the door behind himself, chucking his things on the counter.
The warm water felt nice on his skin, clearing away the grime of his ordeal for good. His cuts and grazes began to sting, cutting through the numb confusion that had settled over him. After patting his face dry, he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, slowly restoring some normality to his life. He was more confident afterwards; still aware and a little nervous but feeling more in control. Leaving the house was now simply a smart, safe decision, rather than a cowardly escape. He patted the counter as he left, feeling for the keys, but felt only cool tile. His confidence faltered, panic struck up in his chest. He refused to let it take control. With angry strides he walked into the bedroom and searched; under the bed, under the desk, in the sheets, in the drawers, in bags and coats. They were nowhere to be seen. He searched the living room, the kitchen, the conservatory. He upturned boxes and looked in shoes, even rifled through bins and checked the fridge shelves. Nothing. Suddenly, a thought struck him. He knew where they were, just didn’t want to admit it. He took the stairs two at a time and approached his housemate’s room.
He walked down the hall hesitantly, panting from all the exertion. It was still dark without the lights on. He realised he had no idea what time it was without his phone, which was still dead on his bedroom floor. He crept into the room, again hoping not to draw attention to himself, and searched for his keys. There! The sight sent a chill up his spine. Something had stolen them and neatly plopped them on top of a plush cushion in the middle of the bed; there they sat, just waiting for him. He grabbed the keys and held them tightly in his fist. He stared at the cushion. Whatever took them must have done so from right behind him in the bathroom. So close to me… He hadn’t seen anything in the mirror or heard any noises. How do you avoid something you can’t see or hear? How do you defeat it?
One last glance around the room and he was gone. He put his shoes on, shouldered his backpack with his laptop inside and prepared to leave. He put his key in the lock and turned it. It wouldn’t budge. He took it out, tried again, and again, and again. The key twisted in his fingers, close to snapping. The metal dug into his skin. Still the door did not open. It didn’t make any sense. He gave up, left the key in the lock and kicked the door once, twice, three times, on and on until his foot hurt. He stood, breathing heavily, and wiped his hand down his face. Then, he remembered. He had a back door. How did I forget that?! Rushing down the hallway he ignored the now familiar feeling of someone watching from the stairs. Thank God, the key was in the back door like normal. He lifted the handle and tried to turn it. It wouldn’t move. He let out a wild groan. No matter how many times he turned the key or tried the handle the door was shut tight. Again, he kicked the door, he pounded his fists against the window. He searched desperately through the glass for someone, anyone, to see him, to hear him, to help him. His neighbours were usually up early, he was sure they’d hear the commotion and come look. He often saw the woman twitching the curtains as drunk students stumbled by singing, or car doors slammed, and parking arguments started. There was no sign of them now. He began to shout for help. He hit the glass so hard he worried it would break. Wait, he thought. That was an idea. Fuck the locks, he was going to break out. He focused his aim on the window and tried to ignore the pain in his hands. He continued for several minutes before realising this is useless. The glass was still intact, smeared with hand prints, and his fists were bruising. All the exertion made his head ache.
He vaguely remembered being told in school about how to escape a burning building during one of the firefighters’ visits; something about a hammer. There was a toolkit under the kitchen sink. He rushed to the cupboard and rifled through pots and pans until he pulled out the small orange container. Half the screwdriver attachments were missing along with a spanner or two, but the hammer lay in its rightful place in the centre. Its weight felt good in his hand. He’d smash the window, somehow climb through it, and escape to somewhere safe. The cost could come out of his deposit and he’d make it up to his housemate somehow. He set about preparing his plan, grabbing a towel from the clothes horse to lay on the broken window pane – he didn’t need any more wounds from this fiasco – locked the conservatory door to ensure no one else could get in, and was just about to smash the window when he heard it behind him.
If he had to describe the noise to someone his best guess would be the sound of bones cracking, followed by something… wet. He almost missed it. It tickled his ear and snaked into his brain. By the time he had truly heard it, it was too late. Something pressed on his shoulder, a sharp heat he flinched away from. He turned around, slowly, preparing to swing the hammer into the face of an intruder. But there was no face. He couldn’t see anything at first, but slowly an opaque figure appeared in front of him. It writhed and wriggled, distorted the image of the house behind it. It looked like it was built from heatwaves coming off the tarmac in the middle of summer. A sick curiosity grew in his mind. What the fuck is this? Alien, ghost? Is this what’s been in the house with me? What does it want; what did I do?! It hadn’t moved. Now was the time to escape. He lifted the hammer. Before he could strike the pressure returned, this time around his neck. It was warm, then it stung, then it burned. He struggled to get free. Dropped the hammer and clawed at his neck like before, except this time he felt only his own skin. He couldn’t rip off whatever was choking him; he kicked at the figure, but the heatwaves only moved around his feet and snapped back into place when they were gone. The heat around his neck got stronger. He was being lifted. His body swayed in the air as The Thing pulled his face towards its own. The swarm of waves began to look like a disfigured face the more he stared at them. Then, with a shuddering force, it threw him back. Pain burst up his back as the glass broke against him. Wind whistled past his ears before he landed on the grass with a sickening thud. The hammer flew out after him and landed somewhere near his right hand. His whole body throbbed. Through the pain and fear he almost laughed. That’s one way to break the window.
The last thing he heard before darkness took him was the cracking of bones, and the wet dripping of blood.
Link to blog: https://fictionfanatic.home.blog/
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Hope I’ve Got Something To Lose - MCU AU fanfic - C7
Story overview: Peter has an accident, and Tony makes a drastic decision. In the midst of everything, a face from the past reappears - but Peter isn’t too sure about reconnecting after everything that’s happened.
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Part of my irondad and spiderson series.
Warnings/themes: injury, hospital stuff, hurt/comfort, mental health stuff, family stuff
Disclaimer: I have no idea how to write suspense/do mood setting so you’ll have to use your imaginations I’m sorry
You can also find me on AO3
Chapter 7 - Hitting The Ditches
-
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“I know what you’re doing” Peter said. “But why?”
“Because you looked like you needed one”
Peter merely rested his cheek against her shoulder. She made him feel so small. He could smell her sweet perfume and feel the warmth of her arms round him. Slowly, he returned the hug.
“I never wanted to upset you” Liz said. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. I’m glad you’re ok again now”
“Sorry for rambling at you like that”
“Don’t be”
She let go of him slowly, and moved back. They looked at each other.
“You look good” Liz said. “Navy suits you. And I like your shoes”
“Oh. Thanks” Peter said, looking down at his feet. “They always remind me of the main character from Flushed Away”
Liz looked at him blankly.
“You know. The film? The one about the rats?”
Liz shook her head. “I haven’t seen it”
“Never mind then..”
“I’ll put it on my list of stuff to watch”
“Yeah...”
Peter looked away, and saw the pool. He started over to it, and Liz followed him, sitting down cross-legged at the side when they reached it.
“Did you see the host? He doesn’t strike me as a swimmer” Peter said, touching the surface of the water with his fingertips. “What a waste”
“He looks like one of those men who spends most days sat in an armchair smoking a pipe, doesn’t he?” Liz said. “...You said you’re on the swim team at your school”
Peter nodded. “I didn’t really want to join, but they wrote to my parents asking me, and dad was pretty stern about it. I was still gonna say no, but I ended up joining anyway”
“Is it fun?”
“Well, the before and after bits of training can be fun, and sometimes when we’re competing we all go on a mini-bus together, and that can be fun too”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Not really. It’s just so repetitive. I’ve always kinda liked swimming, but there’s such a big difference between messing-about-in-a-pool swimming and competitive swimming. There’s nothing fun about swimming up and down, up and down, and relays are even worse. And medley relays are the worst thing ever”
“I’ve never really done swimming that wasn’t messing about. if you don’t like it, why don’t you quit?”
Peter looked down at the water. “I’ve been meaning to for a while now, but it’s not that easy. The coach likes me cos I win a lot, and dad’ll get real upset with me if I quit”
“It’s not his life, Peter”
“I know that. But I don’t wanna upset him, and I don’t know if I could deal with one of those; ‘you’re giving up something you’re really good at’ talks where they start saying you’re throwing your life away or whatever. He keeps trying to get me to apply for some national competitions and stuff like that. And he’s always getting at me to practice”
“Have you got a pool at home then?”
Peter nodded. “I used to love it, but I don’t anymore. I can’t just go and mess about, cos dad’ll start asking how my practice is going and then try and act coach and it does my head in, so I don’t go down there much anymore. But then he gets angry at that too. But not so much recently. Because of my ribs...”
“What happened to you?”
“It doesn’t matter”
“You lied to me”
Peter looked up at her. “What do you mean?”
“You said your life was better now, but you sound miserable”
“I-I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I’m not enjoying the swim team stuff, but that’s not really a big thing right now, anyway”
“It’s not just because of the swimming”
“I’m fine. I just didn’t really want to come tonight. I hate these kinda parties. It’s the worst part about having celebrities as parents. Especially when they’re as famous as dad”
“Can I ask you something about that? How do you differentiate between them when they’re both... dads?”
“Oh? Oh! Oh. Well, I just call them both dad, mostly, especially when we’re at home. But I call Loki ‘daddy Loki’ sometimes” Peter said, and suddenly felt a bit stupid. “I don’t really think about it, to be honest. But Loki is daddy more often than Mr Stark is”
“Do you like it?”
“What? Yeah, yeah, of course I do. We get on really well. We’re friends. We were friends before, basically family. We still are”
Liz opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, there was a shout.
“Little Brother!”
Peter looked round, and his face lit up when he saw Alison. She had a friend with her. Alison ran over, knelt down, and hugged Peter tight.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here, Little Brother!” she grinned, squeezing him and kissing his cheek. “How are you doing? I heard you had a bit of an accident and ended up in hospital”
Peter just hugged her back.
“Oh, Peter, this is Evangeline. Our parents have been friends for years”
“Most people call me Gilly” Evangeline said, smiling at him.
“Sorry” Liz said. “But, Little Brother?”
“Ah, it’s just a school thing” Alison said. “So, you know Peter, and I’ve introduced Evangeline. I’m Ali. And you’re..?”
“Liz” Liz said. “We used to go to school together. A long time ago”
“Oh cool. Nice to meet you” Ali smiled.
“Nice to meet you. So, this Little Brother thing?”
Oh” Ali gave Peter a squeeze. “Well, Peter started in the middle of the term. We’ve got a scheme at St Hendricks where they give one of us older ones the role of taking care of the kids like Peter, showing them around and checking up on them and all that kind of thing. So I’m his Big Sister, and he’s my Little Brother. He’s such a sweetie, isn’t he?”
Liz smiled and nodded.
“So, Little Bro, this place seems a bit of a mystery, don’t you think? Old guy in the middle of nowhere, Victorian looking, living in what basically looks like a Victorian mansion, and the party is only in about three rooms, right at the front. There’s a huge building here to explore”
“I heard that this place is haunted” Gilly said. “I heard, that the ghost of an old woman wanders the corridors but never goes downstairs. And apparently all of the paintings on the wall change every time you look at them”
“Oh, you can’t really believe that” Ali said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
“Well, there’s definitely something funny about this place” Liz said.
Peter looked at Ali. Ali searched his face, and nodded.
“Ok, let’s do it” she said, standing up.
The other three stood up as well.
“What are we doing?” Gilly asked.
“We’re going to explore, of course!” Ali said. “We’ve just got to slip through that door at the back. It’ll be fine”
Peter looked at Liz. She seemed a little unsure. He took a breath, and held a hand out to her. She took it.
-
Undetected, the four managed to slip through the heavy white doors at the end of the entrance hall. The atmosphere was immediately different once the door was closed behind them. They could still dimly hear the party sounds, but they sounded much further away than they really were. Where they were now was dark, and everything felt a little wobbly and strange. Where they stood in the huge hallway, they were faced with an enormous staircase. It led up to a platform by a large window, and the banisters continued round on either side, up several more steps to another landing stage and staircase. The moonlight was the main source of light, and it bathed everything in a milky, ethereal light.
“It looks like something from Beauty And The Beast” Gilly said.
“Oooh, does that mean we’ll find a magic rose if we find our way to one of the turrets?” Ali said. “Come on, then”
They started up the staircase. It creaked ominously, and they all froze and quickly checked behind them.
“No one’s going to hear: it’s too loud in there” Liz said quietly.
“Then why are you whispering?” Ali said, but she grinned. “Maybe we should try to stay quiet anyway”
They stopped at the top of the staircase, backs to the window, looking left and right.
“Which way should we go?” Gilly asked.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Liz said.
“We’re not doing any harm” Ali said. She pointed to the staircase to her right. “Let’s go up this one”
So they did. As they set foot on the top step, a loud clunk sounded, and a clock sounding the half hour echoed round the hallway, making them all jump.
“This is scarier than I thought it was going to be” Liz whispered, slowly letting go of Peter’s arm. “Are you ok?”
Peter nodded and gave her the thumbs-up sign. They went over to the grandfather clock which had caused the alarm. It was big, and terribly old, with faded plates in the clock face. It seemed to tick almost excessively loudly.
“It sounds like it’s coming from behind us as well” Ali said, shuddering. “I bet there’s a whole load more of them in this place”
“I’ll bet!” Gilly nodded. “I bet we’ll stumble across some kind of disused nursery full of creepy old Victorian toys at some point”
“Oh, don’t start telling stories, please” Liz begged. “This place is creepy enough without thinking about that kind of thing. I think you’ve already scared Peter: he’s gone so quiet”
Ali giggled at the look on Gilly’s face. “Don’t look so worried! Peter doesn’t ever speak: it’s nothing to do with you”
Liz looked at Ali, and then back at Peter for clarification. Peter merely shrugged. He looked around them. There was only one door they could go through. He went over and tried the handle. It turned easily, but squeaked horribly as he eased the door open. The other three joined behind him, peering into the dark corridor behind the door. There were no windows, so it was pitch black. Gilly shuddered.
“This place is giving me the creeps” she said.
“It’s only because it’s dark” Ali said, taking her phone out and turning the torch on. “There. We can see where we’re going now. Go on, Little Brother”
Peter stepped into the corridor, and the others followed. The door clicked shut behind them.
“Umm...”
“It’s fine” Ali said. “It wasn’t locked. Come on! I bet there’s a whole load of stuff to discover here”
Her phone torch wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the whole corridor. She moved it around, so they could see the carpet, the bottom part of the wall, and the paintings higher up.
“This is so weird”
“It’s like being in a time warp” Liz said. “There’s not even any plug sockets or light switches”
“I told you this place was haunted” Gilly hissed.
“Of course it’s not haunted” Ali rolled her eyes. “It’s just an old house. There’s no such thing as-”
Liz suddenly squeaked and grabbed at Peter.
“Something moved..!”
They all looked at her, and Ali lifted her phone, shining the torch across the hallway. They saw nothing. Ali held her phone still - and a huge shadow ran across the beam of light. Liz and Ali gave a little shriek.
“What was that?!”
They looked at each other. It didn’t make any sense. There wasn’t any windows - so how could anything make a shadow like that? Ali spotted the door at the other end of the corridor.
“Come on, quick!”
They ran, and Ali grabbed the door handle. It wouldn’t open.
“It’s locked!” she looked up, and tried the door on the left. “Oh, thank god”
They slammed the door behind them once they were free of the hallway. They all shivered. This was different, all great stone bricks, and it was cold. They found they were stood at the bottom of a spiralling stone staircase.
“I don’t know about this” Liz said, holding tight to Peter’s arm.
“There’s no going back now” Ali said determinedly.
She took hold of the rope serving as a hand rail, and bravely started her ascent. The others had no choice but to follow.
-
The room the four teens found themselves in was well enough lit by the moon for Ali to turn off her phone torch. They stood looking at the strange round room. It was uncarpeted, with a stone floor.
“What is this place?” Gilly said, looking at the wooden boxes scattered about. “Some kind of storage room?”
Peter knelt down and tried to prize the lid off one of the boxes, but it was nailed shut.
“There’s another staircase here”
Liz had opened a door on the other side of the room, discovering another spiralling staircase. The other three came over.
“Well, it’s gotta be better than staying up here” Ali said, taking the lead and starting downwards.
Gilly went next. Liz stopped, looking at Peter.
“Are you sure you’re ok?”
Peter nodded, and gestured for her to go before him.
-
Ali stopped at a window. Through it, she could see across and down to one of the rooms where the party was happening. It was so bright in comparison to everything else that it looked almost orange.
“Wait, this doesn’t make any sense. Guys, look”
They did.
“We went up stairs on the same side of the building as the party rooms. How can we be looking at it from the other side?”
No one had an answer, so they didn’t say anything. Ali watched for a moment longer, and then turned her attention back to the dark room she was in.
“Ok, so what we know-”
They heard a door opening a few rooms away, and footsteps approaching.
“Hide!”
They thanked their lucky stars that they were in a well furnished room. Peter grabbed Liz and ducked down behind the grand piano, while Ali hid under the coffee table, and Gilly behind the heavy curtains. She only just made it before the door opened. They all stayed as still as possible, their hands over their mouths to stop themselves being heard. Peter couldn’t see anything from behind the piano, but he could hear the footsteps. He closed his eyes and started counting in his head.
It wasn’t long before the door closed again. They waited a while longer, until they were certain the coast was clear, and then emerged from their hiding places.
“Do you think people have noticed we’re gone?” Liz whispered.
Ali slipped her hand into Peter’s pocket, checking his phone.
“No, we’re clear: Peter’s dads would’ve texted if they’d realised” She said.
Peter put his phone back, and looked towards the other door, not the one The Person had entered through. The girls looked too.
“May as well continue on” Gilly said. “We’ve got nothing to lose”
-
Gilly looked at everyone with a kind of anxious pride when they pushed the door open.
“I told you we’d find something like this!”
The air felt heavy, and Peter rather felt like he was being watched. He tried hard to ignore it. This room was definitely a nursery, and a big one at that. There was a huge rocking horse by the fire place, with horrible staring glazed over glass eyes and half-open mouth with bared teeth. Peter touched its mane cautiously.
“I bet that’s real hair” Ali said, touching its tail with similar caution. “That’s what they used to do, use real horse hair”
“It’s spooky” Gilly said. “Why is everything in here old? How old is the host?”
“God knows”
“I don’t like this” Liz whispered. “Isn’t that shelf creeping you out?”
There was a shelf absolutely full of old china dolls, clad in Victorian style dresses, their tiny china hands reaching out towards them. They all looked, their hearts thumping. There was a huge doll sat in a chair by the shelf, and as they looked at her, her arm dropped to her side. Liz squeaked and grabbed Peter.
“Did you see that?!” she gasped. “We need to get out of here!”
“It’s just an old doll: it’s nothing” Ali said, trying to convince herself as well as the others.
They all became aware of the ticking of a clock, just as loud as the grandfather clock that had scared them earlier. Peter squeezed Liz’s hand tight, looking round the room. He could hear his pulse thumping in his ears. He looked at the dolls, at the rocking horse, the huge dolls house, the shelf full of toys that looked as old as the war. There was a little dresser over by the door. Peter took a deep breath and went over to it. Liz kept hold of his hand and went too, dreading seeing something other than herself reflected in the mirror. They looked at the little mirror, at the old style hand mirror and matching brush, and the big music box. It was pretty, glass, with a little ballerina on top. Peter went to touch it, and as he did, the ballerina started turning, and with it, music started playing. Peter could only stare, his eyes wide.
“Peter, we need to leave!” Liz hissed, her voice shaking.
She turned round, making Peter follow. The four of them looked at each other.
“Liz is right: there’s something wrong here” Gilly nodded. “Let’s go”
They all nodded - and then froze. There was a loud creaking sound. They looked at each other and then looked towards the window where the sound appeared to be coming from. There they noticed a rocking chair, creaking on its rockers - and a woman shrouded in white sat in it.
*
#my writing#fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#frostiron#irondad and spiderson#I have no idea what I'm doing#the idea was good but it's poorly executed#I'm very sorry#you'll have to use your creative license
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Come What May
DaiSuga Week 2018 Day Seven: Mafia or Kissing
Rating: G
Summary: Before Daichi could stop him, Koushi bolted from the room. Once he was far enough away, he stopped, leaned against the nearest wall, and gasped for breath. He wasn't just falling in love with Daichi. No, he was deeply, madly in love with him. So much for professional integrity.
Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810462
Fic under the cut!
Eight in the morning was too god damn early, in Koushi's professional opinion. If he had it his way, they wouldn't be meeting until at least noon, but no. Koushi stifled a yawn as he observed the room before him with disinterest. He stood at the front of a large stage, overlooking the house of the local theater. Takeda had brought up the house lights before vanishing into his office, giving Koushi a full view of the empty room. From where he was standing, Koushi could see a dark stain on one of the front row seats; someone must have ignored the "No food or drink" rule and spilled on the seat. Koushi would have to talk to Takeda about it later, ignoring the irony as he took a sip of coffee from his thermos. He checked his watch; the actors wouldn't be arriving for another half hour at the earliest.
Koushi sat down on the edge of the stage, grabbing his copy of the script. The theater's fall production was Moulin Rouge. Koushi had seen the movie a handful of times, but he never really got much from it. It was a forbidden romance story with the world's worst twist ending (worst by Koushi's—again—professional opinion). Needless to say, Koushi wasn't exactly enthusiastic about Takeda's choice. At least he'd have fun as the show's Music Director.
"Excuse me," a voice called from the back of house.
Koushi looked up from his script. A man was standing in the doorway, shuffling from foot to foot. He probably had been standing there for a few minutes.
"Hi there," Koushi said.
"Is this where the cast is supposed to meet?" the man asked.
"Are you here for the Moulin Rouge cast meeting?"
The man nodded, making his way down the center aisle. "I am. My name's Sawamura Daichi, I'll be playing Christian."
Koushi had to admit, he looked perfect for the part. He was no Ewan McGregor, sure, but he worked. He had that sort of softness that Koushi would have expected for a Christian. Plus, he was good looking. Takeda had been spot on.
"I'm Sugawara Koushi," Koushi said, hopping off the front of the stage. "I'm the Musical Director and pianist."
"You're doing both?" Daichi asked. "That's impressive."
"What can I say, I've got talented hands," Koushi joked.
Daichi laughed. He didn't have to, Koushi's joke was terrible, but he did. Koushi could feel his face heat up a little, but he squashed the feeling immediately.
Keep it professional, Koushi.
Daichi and Koushi chatted for a bit as the other actors began to file into the theater. Koushi spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd, he had worked with a lot of them before—Azumane Asahi, the Tanaka siblings, the Tsukishima siblings, Ennoshita Chikara, Kinoshita Hisashi, Narita Kazuhito, Nishinoya Yuu…. Koushi could see a few that he hadn't worked with too, but he recognized their faces from productions he had seen. Yuu waved at Koushi as he took a seat next to Michimiya Yui, one of the few people Koushi hadn't worked with. Koushi was actually extremely excited to work with her; Koushi had heard all about Yui's vocal range from her fiancé and Koushi's longtime friend, Shimizu Kiyoko, and he couldn't wait to work with her on her solo pieces. Yui had actually given Koushi an extremely tight hug when she first arrived and promised to bring homemade baked goods to the next rehearsal, cementing her as Koushi's Favorite Person for the production. Eventually, Takeda emerged from his office, arms full of script books that swayed dangerously as he made his way to the stage.
"Good morning, folks," Takeda said as he dumped the scripts onto the stage. "My name is Takeda Ittetsu, and I'm the Stage Director for this season's production of Moulin Rouge. As we get closer to tech week, I'll be introducing you to our Technical Director, Ukai Keishin, and his team. And this is Sugawara Koushi. For those of you who don't know Sugawara, he's our Musical Director, and will also be the show's pianist and playing the part of Satie, the Bohemian pianist."
Koushi turned to stare at Takeda. "I am?"
"We'll talk more about it later," Takeda said. "For now, let's go around the room and introduce yourselves. Tell us who you're playing and what you're looking forward to the most."
The company had mostly been doing that before Takeda arrived, but they humored him and reintroduced themselves. Koushi noted that, for the most part, he wasn't that surprised by the casting choices—of course Ryuu was Zidler, of course Yuu was Toulouse-Lautrec. He was a little surprised that the eldest Tsukishima brother was playing the Duke, but he figured it'd probably be a fun challenge for the guy. It also surprised Koushi that Daichi was the last to talk.
"My name's Sawamura Daichi," he said. "I'll be playing Christian, and I'm most excited to work with our Musical Director."
Koushi blinked in surprise. "You are?"
"Of course, I've heard a lot of good things about you," Daichi explained. "I hope that we work well together."
"Me too," Koushi replied, hoping that his voice didn't crack as badly as he thought it did.
***
Never knew I could feel like this, like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss, every day I love you more and more.
***
Rehearsals were going better than either Takeda or Koushi expected them too. All of the actors were taking things seriously and putting in more effort than Koushi had seen in past productions. They were able to move from script reading sessions straight into song rehearsals, starting with the large group numbers. It took Koushi a bit of time to get everyone used to singing with each other, but soon the actors had themselves sorted and were singing well together. Koushi could have cried; they were making his job so much easier.
Two people stood out to Koushi more than the others, he would admit. First was Yui. Kiyoko had massively undersold her fiancé and her vocal ability. She was incredible. She already bringing so much emotion to her parts that Koushi had to call for a five minute break so everyone could recompose themselves. Second was Daichi. Koushi knew that Daichi had to be good; he was cast as Christian, after all. But watching him sing was something else. Koushi found himself entranced by Daichi every time he opened his mouth. He found himself wanting to work with Daichi and only Daichi. It was becoming a problem.
Towards the end of their first month of rehearsal, Takeda provided Koushi with an excellent opportunity to work one on one with Daichi.
"Alright, so in a few rehearsals, we're going to start working on blocking, as well working on solos and duets," Takeda announced. "Hopefully you all have started looking at those, but if you haven't, now would be a good opportunity to start.
"If you guys have parts you want to work on with me individually, you're more than welcome to schedule something with me," Koushi chimed in. "See me after rehearsal and I'll give you my number."
Takeda ended rehearsal soon after. A few people took Koushi up on his offer of private sessions, coming up to the piano to swap numbers with him. Koushi was pleased to find that Daichi was one of them.
"Is it okay if Yui and I come in together to work on 'Come What May?'" Daichi asked. "We wanted to work on it a bit beforehand so we get used to making lovey eyes at each other while singing and not crack up while doing so."
"Is that a problem you guys have been having?" Koushi asked knowing full well that it was.
"Yeah, just a bit," Daichi said, giving Koushi a sheepish grin. "She's like a sister, so it gets a bit weird sometimes."
"Have you guys tried it with the recording?"
"We have, but we wanted to try it with just the instrumentation," Daichi explained.
Koushi nodded, "Yeah, we can work something out then. If you wanted to, we could start tomorrow."
"We definitely could," Daichi offered.
Koushi ignored his inner monologue's screams of celebration.
"Sounds good to me."
***
Listen to my heart. Can you hear it sing, and telling me to give you everything?
***
"Daichi was saying that you two were having a hard time keeping straight faces during 'Come What May'," Koushi said, taking a seat on the piano bench.
The room had cleared out pretty quick at the end of rehearsal, leaving Koushi alone with Yui and Daichi. The pair stood next to the piano, exchanging sheepish glances.
"You'd think we'd be used to it after years of playing love interests," Yui commented.
Koushi nodded, then turned to the piano. He played a few bars of 'Come What May', then turned back to the leads.
"So, this song is the love song of the musical," Koushi explained. "I know that 'Elephant Love Medley' is what people think of first, but as far as the love songs in Moulin Rouge go, 'Come What May' is more important. This is the part where Satine and Christian pledge their undying devotion to each other. This is the song that gets the reprise."
Daichi and Yui nodded, their expressions earnest. Koushi found it endearing.
"I want you two to visualize something for me when you sing it," Koushi continued. "Think of the one thing in your life that you love more than anything. Whatever that thing is, picture it, visualize it, sing to it. Yui, I see you blushing. You thinking of Kiyoko?"
Yui's face went pink. She mumbled something that Koushi assumed was an affirmative. Koushi gave her an encouraging grin as she covered her face with her hands.
"No, don't be embarrassed, you love her! You're getting married to her next year! I should know, Kiyoko asked me to be her best man."
"I know, Kiyoko's the most amazing woman in the world. It's just a little embarrassed to be read that easily," Yui groaned from behind her hands.
"Listen, I don't blame you for being head over heels, Kiyoko's an incredible woman," Koushi said. "Channel your love for her into the song, and you're golden."
Yui nodded, pulling her hands away from her scarlet face. Koushi turned to Daichi and raised an eyebrow.
"How about you, Christian?" Koushi teased. "Got someone in your life to motivate your passion?"
Daichi rubbed the back of his neck as he replied, "Right now? I mean, sort of. I wouldn't call it love, it hasn't been that long. Maybe an infatuation? I want something to come out of it, because it'd be great motivation, like you said. I just need to think about it a bit more."
Koushi almost missed the meaningful look Yui threw Daichi. Almost.
"Well, hopefully it becomes something a little stronger than an infatuation," Koushi said. "I'd love to see where it could take you."
The way Daichi said, "Me too" nearly knocked Koushi flat. The way that his eyes lingered on Koushi just long enough left whisperings of hope in Koushi's heart. Maybe, just maybe, Daichi was thinking about him.
***
Seasons may change winter to spring, but I love you until the end of time. Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.
***
As the second month of rehearsals progressed, more and more people began asking Koushi for one on one sessions. It was fun for Koushi to run the sessions—his favorite so far aside from Daichi and Yui's duet had been Ryuu and Akiteru's rendition of 'Like a Virgin'. But it left Koushi in a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand, he loved that everyone had enough enthusiasm for the production that they wanted to take on extra rehearsals. On the other hand, more private sessions with the others meant less private lessons with Daichi, especially since Koushi had to learn all of the songs and learn lines. He understood why Takeda had cast him as the Bohemian piano player; it was a fun stylistic thing to have the orchestra gradually appear onstage as the show progressed. But still, the less professional part of Koushi was mad that it was cutting into his time with Daichi.
The universe had a habit of dropping good things into Koushi's lap, however. Yui started showing up to less one on one sessions, stating that she had her parts down pretty well. Eventually, she stopped showing up to them altogether. Koushi had a sneaking suspicion that Yui had done this on purpose, but he also wasn't about to call her out for it. He appreciated the alone time with Daichi.
"You've improved," Koushi noted during one session. He and Daichi had been running through his part in 'El Tango de Roxanne' and Daichi had perfectly embodied the sad jealousy needed in their last runthrough.
"Thank you," Daichi said, draping himself dramatically across the back rim of the piano. "I've had lots of inspiration recently."
"Oho?" Koushi chuckled. "Feeling jealous about something?"
"Truth be told, yes," Daichi admitted. "My muse for 'Come What May' has been busy with other people recently. It's a little hard to not be jealous."
"I didn't take you as the jealous type," Koushi said, ignoring the nervous fluttering in his chest.
Daichi didn't respond for a beat; he was too busy studying Koushi. Koushi shifted in his seat. There was something in the way Daichi looked at him. It was intense.
"Can we run through my part of 'Come What May' next?" Daichi asked. His voice barely rose above a whisper.
Koushi swallowed—was it always that hard to swallow?—and nodded. He stumbled over the first few bars, earning a soft chuckle from Daichi. Koushi stuck his tongue out at Daichi and started again. He gave Daichi a nod when it was his time to come in. As Daichi's voice filled the room, Koushi felt himself fall a little bit more in love with Daichi. No, he wasn't just falling in love. Koushi jolted, fingers stumbling over the keys and bringing the song to a grinding halt.
"Um, Koushi?" Daichi asked.
"I-It's fine," Koushi stammered, getting to his feet. "I just need a quick break. Be back in 10."
Before Daichi could stop him, Koushi bolted from the room. Once he was far enough away, he stopped, leaned against the nearest wall, and gasped for breath. He wasn't just falling in love with Daichi. No, he was deeply, madly in love with him.
So much for professional integrity.
***
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place. Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste. It all revolves around you.
***
"An entire rehearsal dedicated to kissing practice seems a bit much," Daichi commented as Koushi set up the piano.
It had been a few weeks since Koushi's revelation. To his credit, he had made it back to the room to continue his session with Daichi. And there had been no further incidents since then. Koushi had been keeping it together, thank you very much. Plus they were three weeks out to opening night, he had no choice but to keep it together.
He was a little surprised that Daichi wanted to continue one on one sessions. Daichi didn't need the help, he had his lines and lyrics memorized. Hell, he'd had them memorized a month and a half in. But he still insisted on meeting with Koushi whenever he could. Koushi tried to not read too much into it. Tried.
"Well, sometimes actors need it," Koushi said. "Even if they've been friends for years."
"I know, it just seems like a lot."
"No such thing as too much practice," Koushi reminded him. "Speaking of, what are we working on today?"
"'Come What May'?" Daichi asked.
"Daichi, you've had that one down for months," Koushi pointed out. "Do you really need to run through it?"
Daichi shrugged. "I just like running through it with you."
And wasn't that telling.
"How about we run through the reprise version," Koushi compromised.
"Are you going to sing Satine's part?" Daichi teased.
"I could, but it won't sound anywhere near as good as Yui's version," Koushi said.
Daichi gestured for Koushi to start. Koushi inhaled, exhaled, and began to play. Just a few bars, then he began to sing, "Never knew I could feel like this, it's like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss, every day I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings? Come back to me, and forgive everything."
Daichi sat down on the bench next to Koushi, his eyes never leaving Koushi. Koushi blushed, but continued, "Seasons may change, winter to spring. I love you, until my dying day."
Daichi joined in, "Come what may, come what may, come what may, come what may-"
"Come what may-"
"I will love you, until my dying day," they finished in harmony.
It wasn't until Daichi pressed his lips to Koushi's that he realized how close the two had gotten. Koushi let his eyes slip shut, enjoying one blissful moment before the imminent crash of anxiety. He braced himself against the piano bench as Daichi pushed forward, his fingers threading into Koushi's hair. Koushi moaned, a soft whine of a noise, as he placed a hand on Daichi's chest and pushed. Daichi opened his eyes, confusion evident in those soft brown eyes that made Koushi weak.
"Daichi, we can't do this," Koushi whispered. "Not now."
"Koushi-."
Koushi shook his head, trying his hardest not to start crying at the look of hurt on Daichi's face. "I want- I want nothing more than for this to happen," Koushi said, "believe me, I really do. I've wanted this for months, Daichi. But I'm your Musical Director. This can't happen while I'm still your Musical Director. If we started something, people would claim nepotism. If we broke up, imagine what would happen to the show. It just… can't."
Daichi studied Koushi for a moment, then nodded. He moved back from Koushi, then got to his feet. He grabbed his stuff and headed for the door.
"Daichi," Koushi called.
He could hear Daichi pause.
"It's not a 'no'," he said. "It's a 'wait until the production's over'."
"Come what may," was Daichi's only response, and then he was gone.
As the door closed behind Daichi, Koushi broke.
***
And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide. Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side. Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide, but I love you until the end of time.
***
The two week run was a smash hit. Critics loved it, audiences loved it, it was everything Takeda wanted it to be. He hadn't been sure how the production would turn out; both Christian and the Musical Director had sudden, incredibly noticeable changes in mood, but things had been fine in the end. Moulin Rouge was a success.
Koushi avoided the cast party the night the run ended. As soon as he was out of costume, Koushi had left the theater without a backward glance. Things between he and Daichi had taken a turn for the worse after they kissed. Daichi stopped coming to one on one sessions, his performance during 'Come What May' was lacking. It was week one all over again, and Koushi knew it was his fault. It didn't help matters that he did his own fair share of sulking. It got so bad that Takeda had canceled rehearsal one day, unable to stand what Daichi and Koushi were doing to the production's atmosphere. Ryuu, Asahi, and Yuu had dragged Daichi out of the theater while Yui had pulled Koushi aside to lecture him. It quickly turned into a coffee date where Koushi could word vomit his feelings at Yui.
"Koushi, you turned him down," Yui had pointed out.
"I just spent five minutes telling you my feelings and that was your takeaway?"
Yui had made a face at Koushi, then moved right into her lecture, "Well, yeah. He made a move on him, you told him not right now. The way I see it, you two just need to move passed the awkwardness and things will sort themselves out. So quit moping, you're killing the vibe of the show. This show's about freedom, beauty, and above all, love. Right?"
Things improved with Daichi after that. They were still incredibly awkward with one another, but they were congenial. Takeda was willing to let them be, and the show went on. They survived the last two weeks of rehearsal and two weeks of performances, then it was over. Koushi knew Daichi wanted to talk to him, but Koushi couldn't bring himself to be alone with him yet. He was scared, scared that Daichi was going to reject him after he rejected Daichi. He needed time.
So he went home without a word to anyone. He made himself the spiciest tofu he could, then collapsed onto his couch. Koushi was ready to sleep for the next thousand years.
The universe had other plans. Koushi's phone went off, ringing once, twice. He fished it out of his pocket, accepting the call without looking at the screen.
"Hello?"
"How come you're not at the after party?" Daichi asked.
Koushi froze. Panic set in.
"I never really go to after parties," he said, aware that he sounded like he was lying.
"Koushi, I've seen the photos on Facebook."
Okay, yeah, he was busted.
"I don't know, I just didn't feel like going," Koushi explained.
Daichi was silent. Koushi would have guessed that the call was dropped if it weren't for the sounds of a standard cast party in the background.
"Daichi?"
"Can you meet me in the park? The one by the theater?" Daichi asked. "I want to talk to you."
Koushi wanted to say no. He so badly wanted to say no.
"I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes," he whispered.
"See you there," Daichi said.
Koushi's phone beeped; Daichi had ended the call. With a sigh, Koushi put his tofu in the fridge. He grabbed his coat, put his shoes on and left. He had a meeting to get to.
***
Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day. Oh come what may, come what may, I will love you.
***
The cold, November air nipped at the tip of Koushi's nose. He cursed himself for not grabbing his scarf, but there was nothing he could do about that. He had promised Daichi that he'd be at the park, and damn it, he was going to stick to his promise. Now, if only Daichi would do the same. Daichi was actually five minutes late, by Koushi's count. The longer he stood there, the more Koushi started to worry that Daichi had stood him up. Which would be fair, considering the mental bullshit Koushi had subjected him to.
The sound of footsteps caught Koushi's attention. He turned, and there was Daichi. Daichi smiled at Koushi, then started walking towards him, his movements slow.
"You said you wanted to talk?" Koushi called to him.
"Never knew, I could feel like this-"
Koushi cocked his head to the side, "Daichi, what are you doing?"
"-it's like I've never seen the sky before."
Realization hit Koushi like a train. An embarrassing and emotionally overwhelming, but incredibly welcome realization.
"Daichi, oh my god, we're in public."
"Want to vanish inside your kiss-"
"I can't believe you."
"-every day I love you more and more."
"This is unfair, I helped you learn this song."
Daichi stepped close enough to grab Koushi's hands.
"Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Come back to me and forgive everything."
Koushi pressed his forehead to Daichi's shoulder as he said, "Daichi, that's not even your part."
Daichi paused. Koushi lifted his head, and Daichi cupped his cheek."Seasons may change, winter to spring," Daichi whispered as he caressed Koushi's cheek.
"Daichi, please-," Koushi whispered back, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.
"I love you, until my dying day."
"Daichi," Koushi sobbed.
"Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day."
Koushi couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the lapels of Daichi's jacket and dragged him into a bruising kiss. Daichi responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Koushi's waist. When Koushi pulled back for air, Daichi pushed forward, kissing him with all the desperation of a man who had been separated from his lover for years.
"Daichi, I'm so sorry," Koushi whispered against his lips.
Daichi pulled back to rest his forehead against Koushi's, his breath coming to him in ragged pants.
"Don't apologize," he told Koushi. "You did the professional thing."
"Avoiding you wasn't professional," Koushi countered.
"We're both guilty of that," Daichi said. "But believe me, Sugawara Koushi, I love you. And I want to be with you. Even after all of that, I still want to be with you. You make me feel whole."
Koushi kissed Daichi again, softer than he had before. Daichi melted into the kiss, drawing Koushi in close.
"Be mine?" Daichi asked when they parted for air.
"You can't get rid of me now, Sawamura," Koushi teased, his eyes gleaming with tears and unbridled joy. "You sang a love song at me."
***
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place. Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.
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