#until she picks up her violin and the rock and roll starts rock-and-rolling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yolkyeomie · 3 years

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Crescendo | Kang Yeosang

summary — The beating of a heart is like a crescendo, screaming louder and louder in one's chest until it's reached maximum capacity, and you’re about ready to burst.

word count — 8.6k words

pairing — yeosang x female!reader

genre —violinist + college au, band au there if you look around a little bit, fluff with like a hint of angst in the later parts

disclaimer — SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT,,, this is more of prologue than anything tbh. also I have almost zero knowledge on college and violins so if this is horrible I’m so sorry. also typos. lots of typos.

part I | part II | part III

There was just something about summer that you liked so much. You just couldn't exactly put your finger on what.

Maybe you liked the sunny days that it would bring? The giant ball of light in the sky beaming down at full power onto every human in sight. It would illuminate the world with a golden glow, bringing out the more natural and earthy colors hidden from the other seasons. The heat would call for unplanned trips to the cool waters and hot sand of the beaches or a quickly made dash to the nearest frozen ice cream shop. Perhaps it was because there was no more school, no more time needed to spend on slaving away for hours at a desk just to not retain any knowledge given.

Or maybe you liked it because it was the time you’d see children the happiest. Every time you biked along the sidewalk to and from your home you’d come across a playground almost always filled to the brim with the joyous sounds of laughter. Children scattered around the playgrounds like little ants to a picnic, grabbing whatever they found the most intriguing for the day. Some would be swinging, some would be sliding, some would even be chasing each other around without any of the equipment catching their attention at all.

However, there was a possibility that you enjoyed the summertime because of the theater your town held. It wasn't very big compared to the ones that could be found in the big cities of your country, but it was nice nonetheless.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

Every year your high school would hold recitals for their students in that theater. They would use these performances as a way to showcase their students' growing talents in the art of music or to spotlight their shyer students who never had gotten a chance to show everyone what they were made of. You weren’t in any sort of music group nor did you know how to play any instruments, so you never participated. But you did show up to every recital you could.

When you were in tour first year the only reason you had attended the performance was because your English teacher had promised to raise their overall grade for the year if they did. You were a decent student, overall you had average grades but wasn't the most outstanding person in your class. A few extra points to curve your grades were always appreciated so you had planned on attending the performance.

You had tried to grab a couple of friends to go with you, but all of them coward out when they got the chance. Some would say they were too busy, some would outright tell you they didn't want to sit through a performance they had no interest in. So you ended up simply going with your family, more begrudged than you originally were for the recital.

You had sat through choir members and members of the school's small orchestra and band repeating nearly the same song over and over again. Each song had a different tune, maybe a different style depending on how much creative liberty the singer or player gave themselves. One song was sung a bit louder than the others, another song was played by a small thrown together orchestra than simply a soloist, but they were all the same.

It was boring, and you were growing tired of listening to the same thing constantly. The only thing willing you to stay in your seat the entire time with the arm crushing strength of your mother and your need to get extra points on your grades for the year.

Near the end of the recital was when you had gotten hooked. Your family had finally decided they were going to pack it up for the night, her father had to work early in the morning and you were going to be thrown over towards your grandparents for summer. Just before you could have risen out of your chair to leave behind your parents, you heard it. A different melody than the ones that have been rocking your brain that night.

There was a boy walking on the stage, probably no taller than you was at the time. He was tiny for a first year boy, probably one of the shortest in his class as well. His hair was like a fluffy brown bunny's tail, bouncing and tousling itself around with every step he took. There was a string instrument in his hands, from what you could see was a red-tinged wood violin. You couldn't quite see the expression on his face either though, due to the distance you were from the theater stage.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he plucked one of the strings, letting the note resonate through the theater and bounce off the walls and into their ears. He had played a note, on a different key from the other performers. He was playing a song that his fellow violinists hadn't picked. He was different.

The sound was like a siren's song that grabbed the audience's attention and placed it to the stage. His melody started out soft and somber, almost as if the violin itself was conveying its unspoken emotions. The violinist was trying to use those emotions his instrument lent him to serenade the tears in the audience's eyes to fall and hit the ground simultaneously, creating their own beat to his song.

After a moment of enticing the audience to his performance, he sped up his pace. His quiet song suddenly grew in size until it overpowered every other sound in the room. He strummed each string with a quickness you didn't even believe was possible, his bow striking each note like it was powerful enough to create an earthquake. In a sense, it was like he and the violin had become one being, his string instrument becoming an extension of his arm as he played.

The audience whispered in wonder and amazement of the boy's talents, unable to take their eyes away from his figure. It was an enchanting sound so you couldn't blame them. The violinist had brought you into a world completely different from reality, where every object and plant in sight was made out of his musical chords.

How does a boy, barely over the age of fifteen, have this much power in his hands? You would be cursing yourself if you didn't grant him the title of prodigy right then and there.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't listen to the rest of his alluring song. Your family had dragged you out of the theater to finally retreat to their humble abode for the night. After that night you had declared to yourself that you’d find the violinist who played that song, whether you had to search all summer for him or dig around your school for him. You’d attend every recital and every performance your school's small orchestra had just to get him to play for you again.

However, you lucked out each time you tried. Your school's orchestra didn't allow students outside of their instrumentalists into the classrooms. The violinist boy was too short for you to find in a crowd at their performances either. You even tried to find someone who might be close to him, but no one seemed to step up to the plate. This went on for the rest of your high school years. The only time you could see him where those days after the school year had ended, listening to him play those high energy tunes and somber melodies for his recital before he disappeared from existence once more.

That was, until now.

Plus you made a little bit of money on the side as well, and who didn't like money? Sure most of it was going to your tuition for college but there were times where you liked to splurged on your own interests every once and awhile.

"You seem tired," a feminine voice commented, making you turn around to face her. It was a girl, around your age, walking towards you, her long sleeves rolled up against her arms to mirror the way her shorts looked. She sat down on the pavement next to you, handing you a water bottle ice cold to the touch. "I would be too if I rode around in this crazy heat. I'm surprised you haven't melted at the mere light of the sun yet."

"I almost did," you responded, taking the water from her hands gratefully. "Today was unreasonably hot... I felt like I was sitting right in the middle of hell. And the fact that my bike is made out of metal, too? It's a miracle I didn't get third degree burns or something."

The girl went quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought before speaking again. "You know I can always do it for you? The delivering stuff. It's my family's business anyway, I should be helping them out, not relying on you to do all of the hard work for me."

"Are you serious?" you questioned, suppressing the unusually strong urge to laugh. "You can't even ride a bike or skate. Nor do you have a car either, it'll take you hours to get from one house to the next. And I like the money I earn from doing this for you, I can't get a job anywhere else so this is just perfect for me."

"But still!" She complained, a pouting donning her lips as you screwed open the bottle cap. "I feel bad seeing you bike along in this hot ass weather for my family! I gotta do something to give you... at least a little relief."

You laughed at her desperation, placing the water by your side to face her fully. "The relief you can give me is not playing your cello so loud in the morning. You play wonderfully, trust me, but it's so loud and I'm so tired." you clarified, reminiscing on every time she'd walk up to her house with the sound of a cello's notes wavering through the air.

The girl wasn't in their school's orchestra, she had picked up on the instrument as a hobby. She didn't have a desire to play it in a school setting or professionally no matter how much everyone would suggest otherwise. Yet she suddenly began to really start practicing more often when her next door neighbor had moved in two years ago. You remembered exactly how frustrated the girl was when she discovered that he played guitar at maximum volume in the middle of the night without any regard for anyone else.

To counteract his annoying behavior, she'd open up all the windows in her house and began to play her cello as loud as she physically could in the morning times. It became a war of the instrumentalists after that and neither of them seemed like they were going to stop any time soon.

"Oh you know I can't do that," She responded, glaring at the house to their left where the guitarist resided. "He'll take it as me surrendering to him. I don't even want to think about what he'll do in the middle of the night once I stop. Probably bass boost his guitar so that it's even louder than normal! Oh god, I won't ever get any sleep if he does that."

You found it funny really. The two had never even met each other face to face. "Right... and we don't want that happening do we?" The girl shook her head vigorously in response to your words, taking your sarcasm very seriously. "I still think you can at least tone it down a little bit... this is our last year, in a few months we'll be dragged off into a bigger city to attend colleges and universities for another four or more years. Are you really going to be playing your cello first thing in the morning in your dormitory?"

"Well..." the girl pauses, taking your words into consideration. "No... I won't really need to since I'm not bringing it with me."

"Exactly!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands together and giving the girl a mocking smile. "Now I think you should at least go over to that boy's house and settle this raging war before you move onto better things. Make amends with him, he might even become a new friend of yours for the future. If not, you're not gonna see him again. There's a very high possibility that he's not going to the same college as you, or that he might not be going to college at all!"

She rolled her eyes at your suggestion, forcing herself off of the ground reluctantly. "Fine. I'll go make amends with him or whatever. But I'll only do it if you give up on the violinist boy from the recitals."

You stiffened at the mention of your high school goal, your very unsuccessful goal of finding him and making him play a song for you. "It's like you said, this is our last year here as teenagers. You've been trying to find him longer than I've been waging this musical war on my neighbor. It's about time to lay to rest, you. Seriously, it's more painful to watch than those terribly edited movies from my parents' watch for the "nostalgia"."

"Ouch there was no need to stoop that low," you mumbled, making the girl laugh in turn. "But I guess you're right. I've failed at finding him for this long, I might as well just give up now."

The girl nodded before patting your shoulders in reassurance. "If you really want to hear someone play music so bad for you, you can always ask me. I know a cello sounds nothing like a tiny violin but I can always try?"

"Actually that doesn't sound like a bad idea," you mumbled after a moment of thinking.

"Perfect!" The girl hummed, nearly jumping with excitement to show off her talents and pleasing your several years long urge to have someone play for you. "Usually I only play for my family but I'm very willing to show off what I've been working on. There's this one song I've using to annoy the guitarist boy in the morning and—"

"Go," you reminded her, your smile growing wider at her friend geeking out about her work. "Go get your cello and actually play it for me."

She nodded at your words, skipping on her feet as if she was as light as a feather towards her house. You knew it would be a bit of a struggle in moving her instrument from her room to the outdoors but if the girl was willingly and happily doing it, she had no reason to stop her.

It was a little funny though, how much you were surrounded by people who were gifted and talented in the form of music. Your school's orchestra knew you because of how you’d always try and snatch a peek into their classroom and attended their performances. Your closest friend was a cellist, but only played for hobby and the boy next door was a guitarist. All these connections started happening because a boy you had been chasing after for four years was a violinist.

You'd think you’d pick up some sort of instrument to attract them to you, and trust and believe you tried. You attempted to start playing many instruments after that summer night in your first year. Guitar, flute, piano, trumpet, you even tried to learn the violin yourself. You just weren't musical gifted, you didn't have the patience nor the ears to learn any sort of instrument that passed your way. The best you could do was play a sad tune on the kazoo or laugh into a harmonica.

It's even funnier when other’s learn that your mother used to sing and play the piano while your father played the clarinet when they were in high school. Go ahead and laugh, you knew you were a musical disappointment. Music was practically flowing strong in your blood and you sucked at it. Don't even get started on dancing either, it was a frightening sight to see. Those who could live to tell the tale never told the tale to anyone.

A melody began to float through the air once your friend disappeared into her house, catching you off guard. It wasn't the sound of an electric guitar, shocking the hair and making your skin prickle with its overbearing and booming sound. It was soft and sweet, vibrating through the air as if it was playing with the wind that blew by every few minutes. You could immediately identify the instrument as a violin, it's slightly strained notes from the bow connecting with the strings were all too familiar to you.

You turned towards the guitarist's house where the song was the loudest. To your knowledge, the boy didn't play any other instrument than the guitar. Yet the violin's sweet yet sorrowful song was coming from his house. Without even thinking you rose off the ground, following the song's notes like it was your guide. You had heard the door of your friend's house open again, signaling that the girl had successfully brought her cello from her room to the front of her house. Unfortunately for her, you were walking a little faster than she could drag her cello case.

"Y/N?" The girl called, trying to catch your attention. "Y/N, where are you going?"

You stood in front of the guitarist boy's house, right before where the balcony was hanging. The door to the balcony was ajar, letting the cool afternoon air into the room and releasing the melody of the violin out. "Is that the guitarist boy's room?" you called out to her friend, not taking your eyes off of the balcony. Just as you spoke the violin came to a screeching stop as if the mere sound of your voice was disrupting the flow of its song.

"No," the girl responded after abandoning her cello and running to your side. She pointed to the other side of the house where the window's blinds were closed yet light still shined through them. "His room is right across from mine, I should know I get the brunt of the blow every time he strums his stupid guitar."

Your voices dropped into pure silence when you saw something moving in their direction from the balcony. The door to the outside area slowly screeched open as the figure on the other side pulled on its door handle, stepping onto the wood floor of the balcony and letting the floorboards creak under their weight. Your eyes widened at the sight of a red-tinged violin, it's body scratched from its long term usage and its color dull from the lighting the setting sun had given them.

A boy stepped into view after the violin, the brown hair bouncing on his head like a bunny's tail. His resting face looked like you were staring at a statue, unable to catch any hint of movement in most of his features unless he blinked his eyes every few seconds. Right beside his eyes was some sort of mark, more of a rosy color than the rest of rather pale skin. He must not leave his house that much. After a few moments of silence, he leaned over the balcony's hand railing and spoke, "What do you want?"

The girl beside you glanced between the boy and you frantically, trying to piece two and two together. "you... is that the—"

"I want," you yelled up to him, interrupting your friend's question to respond to the boy above them. A smile began to play on your lips as you spoke, excitement festering up in your chest. You had found him. You had found the violinist from your first year. "I want you to play for me one of your best songs yet."

II.

There was just something about mornings you hated, no matter the day of the week. They'd always leave you more exhausted than you were the night before, whether you had gone to sleep late or not.

Maybe it's because of the dorm room you stayed in, assigned the room the moment you had gotten accepted into your university. It wasn't tiny, but it was definitely much smaller than your room at home. Your belongings barely had enough legroom with your roommate's whole entire area taking up more than half of the room. Despite being rather clean, to an extent, and cool during the day it was also incredibly hot at night.

A few months back the air conditioning unit for the floor you lived on broke down due to age. The university had reassured the students that they'd be looking into the broken unit and the technicians would be coming in and out of the building to fix it. However, they were rather slow with the process. Instead of just moving toward the third floor where the problem had started, they were moving from room to room on each floor the building had.

Apparently, they were just going to fix the problem in one go, however one go suddenly turned into a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months.

Thankfully they were on the edge of the summer season, the crisp breeze of the autumn air in October beginning to blow throughout the city. However that breeze simply abandoned them every time the night fell, the hallways and the common room being filled to the brim with students trying to escape the blazing heat. One would think it would be much cooler around the nighttime, so did they.

You weren't the heaviest of sleepers either, which meant you'd wake up at even the slightest vibration of a phone. One could only imagine your reaction when your alarm clock suddenly blared its ear piercing wake up call. The irritating buzzing of the built on alarm would always shock you out of bed like a cat. Yet even when you knew you were wide awake, you constantly struggled to force yourself up and out of your room. If time would allow it, you would lay in your very warm and comfortable spot in the bed for at least an hour or more.

What's even worse for you was that your dormitory was co-ed, which meant that next door to you was a group of boys who were sharing a room for the school year. They were loud, constantly moving around in the middle of the night, and screaming at random times of the day which usually ended up being the time that you used to study. There were always noise complaints about those students. No one on their floor, or the floor above and below, like them that much. Yet they never seemed to tone down the problem, they made them worse with every noise complaint that was filled to their resident assistance.

Every time they'd get a noise complaint, they'd go and find someone else who was just a little too loud one day and pin the blame on them. It was a way to show that everyone in the building made a commotion and that they shouldn't be the only ones punished for it. You didn't really care about what they were doing until you had suddenly become a target one day.

"I'm sorry, what?" you questioned them, leaning up against the door frame with your arms crossed. In front of you stood the two boys that lived in the dorm next to you, nearly towering over you like the buildings in the city thanks to the monstrous amount of height. They appeared to be up to no good when they had randomly shown up, and you were absolutely right.

"Are you the one who has been playing that music for the past three days? What was it... classical music?" He asked, tugging at his hair as he spoke. He glanced towards his roommate for confirmation, who nodded his head vigorously in response to his question. "Are you a music major or something? Maybe in the orchestra? If not it's been blasting really loudly lately and my roommate here has a majority of his classes at eight am. Right, Jaehyun?"

The boy didn't seem like he was on board with being used as an excuse at first, raising his eyebrow and staring at his roommate in confusion before turning to you. "Right, I have to get up so early for all my classes. I'd really appreciate it if you keep the violins and cymbals and triangles to like a minimum so that it doesn't bother me anymore."

"If not we'll take it to the RA," His roommate quickly added to put their threat in full effect. "And we'll file a noise complaint for disturbing us."

You scoffed at the thought, wanting to slam the door closed and forget about their petty revenge. "Aren't you the same duo that got a noise complaint filed to them last week because of an extremely loud yet unidentifiable thud..." you began before turning on your heels and correcting yourself. "Oh, my apologies. I meant boom, extremely loud yet unidentifiable boom that came from the laundry room. Only for one of the students on the lower floors to go down there and find that one of the washers and dryers had literally malfunctioned and exploded?"

"Listen," One of the boys tried to interject, his ears burning bright red as you kept talking. "That's not... listen, we—"

"Didn't they go on the security cameras to find out who had done the damage? Because a washer and dryer going suddenly haywire on its own is extremely worrisome and dangerous for the students who may have been around during that time. And weren't you two—"

"Classical music is such an amazing genre of music!" The roommate interrupted, yelling over your voice in a panic. There was a pained smile on his face as he hooked an arm around the other boy, punching his arm to follow along as he spoke. "I mean, it has such a clean and light texture to it, simplistic but a great melody nonetheless! God, it gives me nostalgia for a time I wasn't even alive in! Isn't that right, Jaehyun?"

"Oh," the boy spoke, his eyes darting in between his roommate and you. Slowly a smile began to grow on his face to mask his growing embarrassment as he gestured towards the other boy. "Of... of course! Johnny has such nice music taste! So you know when he says a genre is really good it really means something. Seriously love classical music, man. Lulls me right to sleep!"

Needless to say, they choose to not bother you as much as they used to. The strange and loud noises that would echo through the dormitory walls had gotten significantly lower since that day. They didn't stop completely yet but it was enough for you to keep your peace of mind before waking up every day.

Your mornings had gotten relatively calmer after that incident as well. Both of those boys were usually out of the dormitory by the time you were awake to attend classes or work, so you didn't run into them much during the week. You'd have calm enough mornings to where you didn't feel the need to nearly pass out on a car or bus ride to your campus and almost miss your stop. It felt like a dream come true when you would hop out of whatever vehicle you were in and would be right on time before your classes even started.

"Y/N!" A feminine voice screamed, catching you off guard when an arm suddenly slung around your neck. You clutched onto the bag hanging off your shoulder as you nearly tumbled to the ground at the sudden addition of weight, bringing the other girl down with you as you struggled to comprehend what was going on. They got a few stares from the other students who were arriving and leaving the campus but no one said a word to them. Thankfully everyone practiced the art of minding their business. "You'll never guess what I got!"

"Do I want to guess?" You questioned, shoving the girl's arm off of you so you could regain your balance. Once you were stable enough to stand up, you turned around to see who had stumbled into your path. The girl's eyes were wide with innocence and excitement as she stood in front of you, fidgeting in place as she tried to contain herself. Most of the energy she'd originally be exerting into jumping up and down was focused into the beaming and bright smile she couldn't wipe off of her face even if she tried. "Do I have to guess?"

"Yes, you have to," She demanded, holding her hands behind her back to hide whatever got her spirits high. The girl must have ordered some sort of object online again and simply couldn't wait till after your classes to show you. "It's so worth it, I promise! Just... just guess!"

A sigh escaped your mouth as you straighten your posture, reading deep into the girl's expression to try and figure out what it was. "I'm going to guess—"

"Two front row seats to our school's very own band performance!" The girl nearly squealed, shoving two flimsy pieces of paper in your face. You took a few steps back in order to align your sight with the tickets, taking them out of the girl's hands to inspect. Both tickets were for general admission, their names printed on it with the date they were expected to attend the performance. "Aren't you excited? I literally fought tooth and claw to get these before they sold out, and you know these sell out fast!"

"Band? Like the guys who play trumpets and bass drums during school games?" You questioned, glancing up from the tickets to face your friend. The tickets didn't have exactly who was performing written down on it, simply stating that it was a live music event. "Why would you go watch them play? I thought you were more of a... pop genre person?"

The girl rolled her eyes at your response, snatching the tickets from your hands and placing them back into your pockets. "No, not the band. Who goes out of their way to specifically watch our band team play?" She hissed. "I mean like rock bands. You know, the type of people who play the drums and guitars in one big band and perform on stage with a lead singer and everything. That type of band."

"My point with you being a pop genre person still stands," you mumbled in response.

"Yes I do like pop music, I understand that," The girl clarified. "But we're going to see Aurora. Our school's very own rock band! Do you seriously not know who they are? I know you listen to classical and orchestral music and all, but I thought you were at least in the loop with Aurora!"

You scoffed as you began to walk forward, shoving your hands into your pockets and you spoke. "Just because I don't listen to the popular music right now doesn't mean I'm out of the loop! I'll have you know that I am a very big fan of idol groups. I even participated in those farewell events when groups’ oldest members start enlisting in the military."

"Idol groups have absolutely nothing to do with Aurora and you know it," your friend grumbled. "Do you seriously not know who Aurora is? At all? Have I seriously been friends with a hermit crab this whole time?"

"Fine then," you shrugged. "Go ahead, tell me about this Aurora band since you're so obsessed and knowledgeable about this group I've never heard of."

Aurora is a much bigger thing than you had imagined. From your friend's knowledge, it was a group of boys who had gathered around the beginning of the year together, all of them having several different traits and personalities that simply meshed together all too well. They had created the band, Aurora, for fun at first as they were all instrumentalists with different crafts. They had started busking in order to make money as a side job and quickly grew in popularity with the audiences they performed to.

Their university had caught wind of their musical abilities and had asked them to perform during the annual club fairs to help attract more students. After that, they seemed to have skyrocketed in popularity within the college campus. Jung Wooyoung, the group's bassist, Song Mingi, the group's lead guitarist, Choi San, the group's drummer, and Jeong Yunho, the group's lead singer, had become some of the most well-known people on campus.

Everyone seemed to know them and wanted to listen to their music, which is why your friend was so excited to be getting front row tickets to their next performance. You thought it was funny though, Wooyoung was the guitarist boy that lived next door to the girl.

"The past is in the past!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands as the two entered the university's building. The indoors wasn't very crowded, all the students attending were spread throughout the area either taking a break before their classes began or nearly booking it straight up the stairs in fear of being late. "Sure I wanted to murder him with my cello beforehand, but it's okay because we put our differences aside like you said we should have. And it's good that we did because we ended up going to the same university."

"So..." you began, thinking for a few moments before turning towards your friend. "Does this mean he's your favorite member? I mean you've got the background and chemistry for a nice little love story don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely not," she immediately responded. "We may have made up that summer but I have not spoken to him since. Plus my favorite member is their drummer so if anything I'd like to start a love story with him. Do you think I should plan out of my outfit for the music event? What if I actually start a love story with him like in those tv shows my parents used to watch? We catch each other's eyes during the performance and before we're about to leave I get asked backstage to meet him in person!"

You visibly cringed at your friend's fantasizing, putting four feet of space in between the two of you. "Gross. Go to class before you contaminant me with your fantasies."

"Oh shut up." She rolled her eyes, stopping in her tracks so that you were forced to wait for her. "Everyone likes to fantasize about their love life every once and awhile. It's natural to want something grander than reality to happen to you."

"You are the most cliche woman I have ever met," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder to look at the girl. "You just told me you want to make eye contact with him and immediately fall in love just like that! Have a fun time dreaming about that while you stand in a crowd full of people in your general direction."

"You're so mean to me!" She yelled, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and stare at the sudden commotion. "You're just mad that the violinist boy from freshman year refused to play music for you even when you got on your knees! And you were looking for him your entire high school career!"

You sprinted towards the girl at full speed, clamping your hands over her mouth to silence her. She screamed into your hands as you dragged her away from the public eye and muffled her voice. "Heejin, are you out of your mind?" You growled, looking behind you to see if anyone had heard her. "I thought we had both agreed to pretend like that never happened?"

The girl pried your hands away from her mouth and smiled innocently up at you. "We did promise. I just never forgot."

You shoved the girl towards where her lecture hall was located, a frustrated frown growing on your face as a pinkish flush began to creep across your face. "Go to your stupid business math class. Go before I chase you all the way there!" you threatened through gritted teeth. Her friend laughed at the girl's response, skipping like a child to her class for the day.

You really did get rejected that day, it was too ingrained in your brain to forget. The boy had stood on the balcony staring down at the two with a bored and uninterested expression in his eyes, tilting his head like a dog's when you screamed your demands up at him. Honestly, you didn't know exactly what you were expecting. Did you really think that he was just going to pick up his violin and start playing whatever tune he knew just because you asked him to? You didn't even say please!

You had spent a good ten minutes arguing with the boy about how you had been searching for him for years just to make him play at least ten seconds of a song for you. Each time you'd explain your situation to him, he'd immediately give you a dry response of why he kept declining you. He didn't even say it politely! He stared at you straight in the eyes and told you," I don't want to play for you because you aren't worth it."

You swore if you could jump high enough, you would have bounced onto the balcony and strangled him for his rude behavior. It was truly a sight for sore eyes watching an angry and frustrated high school senior scream up at an innocent looking but totally uninterested boy on the balcony. The argument was always almost completely one-sided as well, which made it slightly embarrassing to watch from the sidelines.

You had forced your friend to promise you that she'd either forget the whole incident or pretend like it never happened. Either one was good with you since your friend was known to tell everyone's stories when you weren't paying attention. She had gone this far without saying anything so the urge to talk about it must have been truly bubbling up inside of her. It's been a few months since the incident occurred and the memory is still fresh in your minds.

"God, I'm never gonna live down that stupid incident am I?" you grumbled, practically stomping towards your end destination. "Just when I thought maybe I was finally growing past it, she has to go and bring it back up again. Doesn't she know I'm still healing from that embarrassment? It took a toll on pride and this is how she helps mend the wound? By opening up again?"

You stopped in place when a melody began to waver in the air, following along the cold breeze of the university's air condition. The music notes hopped from breeze to breeze as it traveled through your ears to the next. The sound continuously grabbed your attention as each note was struck no matter how many times you turned to keep walking. It was hitting you like a rock to the head as your brain immediately identified the music maker to a violin.

You slowly turned around to see a few students peering through a crack in some double doors, staring intently on what was on the other side. "They're at it again," one of the older students spoke, holding the door open for his friends to look through. "They're much earlier this time than usual, we'll only catch a little bit of the performance. Do you think something important is happening?"

"You think they're competing for first chair again?" One of the younger students asked, glancing up towards the boy who had spoken beforehand. He shrugged in response to their question, but he seemed to agree for the most part. "Whatever it is, I bet Hong is about to take the first chair again. He's always the first chair. No one can beat that boy when it comes to the violin."

"Kang is always right behind him though, don't forget that," another voice reminded, trying to get a better view of the inside. "Both of them are musical prodigies, and the conductor has always been fond of Kang's playing style. I think he'll get first chair this time."

You couldn't help but let curiosity take over, standing just a few feet away from the group of friends and trying to peer through the small windows of the door. It was rather dark near the entrance to the room, but farther back was lit up by lights that illuminated the wood floor stage where two performers stood. The doors seemed to have led towards an auditorium from the looks of it. You couldn't exactly see their faces from how far away you were, but you could make out a little bit of what was actually going on.

A boy stood in the middle of the stage, the music coming directly from him as he strummed the violin with his bow, grace and elegance oozing off of him. He seemed rather focused on playing his violin precisely, not missing a single note in the song as he allowed the rich and melodic song to ring through their ears. The opened door seemed to amplify his sound even more, ringing within your brain as if it was trying to engraved its sound into her ears. Hearing a violinist play in person was truly much different from hearing it through speakers.

In a chair behind the violinist sat another figure, holding what seemed to be a violin as well in his hands. You assumed that it was the competition who had played their song earlier before you had arrived on campus. His shoulders seemed to tense as the violinist held his final note, a plaintive sound echoing through the auditorium as he held his form to leave an everlasting effect on his listeners.

The students in front of you held their breath as he finished, staring intently at where you assumed the conductor was sitting for his reaction. There was a moment of silence after the note finally fizzled into nothingness, no longer bouncing off of the walls after finding a home in the audience's ears.

"It's Park," the younger student spoke, standing up from where they originally crouched down. "Park is the first chair once again. Honestly, was I expecting a change? No, not really. He's just that talented."

"I was really rooting for Kang this time," the other student spoke, huffing as they crossed their arms in disappointment. "I wonder what he did to not get picked again this time. Usually, Kang performs wonderfully but we weren't early enough to catch his turn."

"Whatever it is," the older student added, shutting the door to the auditorium and shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure Kang will get over it. I mean that's always next time! But I guess I say that every time this happens..."

When the trio had disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but open the door to the auditorium and peek inside. You had been walking past this exact area how many times and you didn't even notice an event like this happening? Your either extremely stupid or completely oblivious, there's no in between.

You pulled on the heavy auditorium doors, peering in the room to take a look for yourself. The room was chilly, much colder than the breezes nature had been giving you so far. It was like you had stepped straight into the freezer, feeling the need to rub your arms for warm to make sure you didn't suddenly die from the cold. "How long has this place been here? I could have sworn this was an administration office or a classroom... literally anything but an auditorium..." you mumbled to mumbled, your eyes drifting towards the stage.

Only one violinist was at the stage, his instrument dangling in his hands as he sat in silence. The other violinist and conductor were nowhere to be seen, abandoning him to be alone with his thoughts. He must have been the one who wasn't picked by their conductor for first chair, reveling in his defeat by his peer. "Is it that serious?" you mumbled, going to close the door before you zoomed to your class, only just a few minutes late.

Though you saw the violinist rise from his seat in the corner of your eye, approaching the edge of the stage to leave the room. Of course, being the generally nice person you were, you pushed the door back open, holding it open for the violinist to pass through. "Hey, are you about to— Woah! Woah, woah, woah, don't do that!" You yelled at him.

The violinist had raised his instrument high above the ground, a bored and uninterested look in his eyes as he debated on whether he was going to let the violin drop from the height it was at and scar it. It definitely wasn't going to shatter and break, but an ugly dent would be achieved through the notion. Your yelling seemed to stop him in his tracks, preventing him from possibly making the worst decision in his life.

"Don't violins cost a lot of money?" You nagged, forgetting about the door you were holding open and marching towards him. "I know you might be frustrated over whatever just happened but is it really worth breaking your instrument? You should be satisfied with the fact that you even got the chance to be chosen as an option for, what was it, first chair? Whatever it is, I think breaking your violin might be a really bad..." you trailed off as you got closer, slowing down your pace as you got closer to the stage

The violinist stared at you through his long blonde bangs, his eyes gleaming in the dingy and dim stage lights. Despite the horrible lighting it seemed to illuminate him as if he was some sort of statue on display, every curve and sharp corner of his face being highlighted just perfectly. His impassive expression refused to let you in on any sort of emotion or thought in his head, locking you out with every chain known to man. His eyes glanced over you, reading you like an open book before he finally spoke. "Why... do you care?"

Your eyes dropped from his face to his violin, taking note of the bored expression and the red tinged violin in his hands. It seemed like it had been used frequently, it's the color worn from age and usage with scratches scattered throughout the instrument's body. "Oh...," you trailed, dropping your hands to your side in defeat.

How long had he been here? Hiding right under your nose in what seemed to be plain sight. How long were you going to go without realizing the violinist from your freshman year was attending the same university as you? "It's you again."

The boy titled his head curiously, a moment of silence expanding over them like a blanket. You felt like you were going to twitch and squirm under his gaze, the eerie silence of the auditorium and his almost blank stare making the atmosphere uncomfortable for you. All you could think about was the one sided argument you two had; how you had embarrassed yourself in front of your whole neighborhood just because you wanted him to play a song for you. The amount of humiliation that was crashing over you like angry waves could have washed you right of the auditorium if it wanted to.

The violinist crouched down on the stage to look down on you, resting his head on his hands as he began to speak. “Do I... know you?”

“Do you know me?” You repeated, disbelief prevalent in your tone of voice. “Did you really just ask that? Of course you know me! Remember from this summer? Just a few months back?”

The boy nodded his head as you spoke, absorbing all the information you were telling him and letting it process in his brain. He closed his eyes as he began to form his final thoughts, leaning back on his heels before opening them again and staring at you. “Ah... I remember now. You were Wooyoung’s fling for a couple weeks... right?”

“What?” You exclaimed, a rosy pink tint spreading across your face as you spoke. You’ve never even spoken to the guitarist boy when he lived near you, nevertheless have a fling with him. The mere thought of doing something so... dangerous like that made your skin crawl. “No... I don’t... listen, are you serious? You don’t remember who am I at all? Not a thing about me seems to trigger some sort of memory in you?”

“Not to be rude,” he responded, lifting himself out of his crouched position and beginning to walk across the stage to the stairs positioned at the side. “But you don’t look like the most memorable type. I mean if I don’t remember you are, would anyone else be able to?”

His blunt honestly was like a knife to the chest, only he was repeatedly sinking the weapon into your already open wound. Had he always been this straightforward with people? Of course he was, that’s why you never got him to play a song for you. You didn’t even know whether or not you liked the fact that he didn’t recognize who you were because he had formatted his words. You’d much rather be remembered for something embarrassing you did than be forgettable as a whole.

Though by the time you had clocked back into reality, a snarky and rude comment ready to hit the bullseye on the back of his head, he was gone. There was no sign of violinist boy anywhere in the room, as if he has quiet literally disappeared into thin air. “I should have just let him smash his violin to pieces,” you rumbled, now not only late to class but also filled with bitter rage that wasn’t even reciprocated.

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mynumberfivethings · 3 years

Note

Little!five and separation anxiety??

“Hey, I’m headed out, does anybody need anything from the store? I’ll stop by on my way back home tonight.” Vanya announces to the room at large.

Five peeks up from his morning newspaper with a raised brow. “You’re leaving?” he asks. Allison is in California for the next two weeks with Klaus, who convinced her he’d behave if she let him tag along. Diego’s consulting on a case with the PD at the moment, so he hasn’t been home much the last few days. And Luther is working a double today at the local boxing gym-he left early in the morning after making some elaborate protein shake Five poked fun at him for.

Vanya nods, “New client downtown and then I’ve got practice with the orchestra-I’ll be home in time for dinner though.” she throws her bag over her shoulder and then straps her violin case across her chest. “So, anything from the store?”

Ben hums. “Can you get more of those vanilla cookies for the pantry? I think we’re almost out.”

“Gotcha. Alright, see you guys tonight.” she waves goodbye and strolls out of the room, leaving Ben and Five to their own devices for the rest of the day.

After a few minutes of silence Ben pushes his chair back and puts his plate in the sink to soak. “Five, I think I’m gonna visit the library today,” he decides. “Need anything?”

Five sits up straight and puts his newspaper down fully. “Why? We have a library here.” he furrows his brows in confusion, frowning.

Ben chuckles. “Well, Dads library isn’t exactly full of books for leisurely reading.”

Five would beg to differ-”Cosmological Inflation and Large-Scale Structure” was a rather leisurely read, in his opinion. But he knows Ben’s recently gotten a taste for comic books and there’s absolutely no way in hell Reginald would have ever allowed such childish things in his library. “Right.” Five scratches the back of his head anxiously. He’s not sure exactly why he’s suddenly got this weird tightening in his chest, but he does.

“When will you be back?”

Ben shrugs. “Not sure. Probably before dinner, though.”

“Do you mind if I come with you?” Five blurts out. “I-” he clears his throat. “There’s a book I’ve been looking for but I don’t think we have it here.”

Ben tilts his head. Five is a homebody, Ben’s discovered, in the last few months since he was brought back to life. He enjoys sitting at home and reading books, occasionally he’ll watch Jeopardy and put the contestants on the show to shame with the odd amount of trivia he actually knows, but mostly he really only goes out if it’s necessary or if Allison plans a fun family outing and Five is in his little headspace.

“Sure, I don’t mind. You wanna drive?”

Five rolls his eyes. “I can just blink us over there.”

Ben sighs, “Fine, but try to teleport us somewhere at least kind of inconspicuous?” The last time Five agreed to bring him somewhere Ben got an earful from a woman they scared half to death by suddenly appearing out of seemingly thin air not two feet away from her in the bread aisle of the grocery mart.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The library is quiet today, which isn’t too surprising considering it’s before noon on a Wednesday.

“I’m gonna go check out the upstairs.” Ben half whispers, already going towards the stairwell.

Five watches Ben walk away with a longing he can’t quite place. He rests his palm against his chest-there’s an ache there he can’t identify. All he knows is that he wants to follow his brother, but he also knows what odd behavior that is. He’s not in his little headspace right now, after all. He doesn’t need to be chaperoned like a child, despite the body he’s in.

Instead, Five decides to roam about the History section a bit.

There’s a giggling that calls his attention about fifteen minutes into his browsing; he looks up to find across the library in the Childrens Books section a young mother and her toddler. She’s shushing the child, but there’s a smile on her face and she’s holding up a Dr. Seuss hardcover and pointing out the silly rhymes and the even sillier made up creatures. She’s sitting down with the boy in her lap and he’s curled up against her looking the picture of warm and snug and...happy.

“Shit.” Five gulps. He can feel it coming on, can feel his control coming apart at the seams. Not here, he thinks, not now. But the tears prickling at the edges of his eyes tell him he’s got little say in the matter.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Ben thought Five might join him upstairs after a while but it’s been about a half hour now and his brother’s nowhere to be seen. Curious to see what’s gotten Fives attention, he heads back downstairs.

Ben looks practically everywhere-first in the sections where he thinks Five would most be drawn to-when he’s had no luck he starts to worry. Five knows better than to teleport without letting one of them know if he’s going elsewhere. It took him a while to learn that, in fact.

“Um, excuse me, sorry to bother you,” he begins, speaking to the woman at the front desk, “But is there a chance you saw where my brother might’ve gone? I can’t find him anywhere. He’s thirteen, about this tall, black hair-”

Thankfully there are so few people in the library at the moment that it doesn’t take much for the librarian to recognize who he’s talking about. “Oh, I think I saw him head for the restroom, right that way, to your left.”

Ben thanks her profusely before heading in that direction. He steps foot inside and he can see Five’s shoes peeking out from under the one stall that’s not empty. “I’m gonna check out a couple of books and head to the Starbucks across the street, so meet me there when you’re done here, ok?” he calls out.

He’s expecting an annoyed. “Fine.”-no one, Five most of all, likes to be interrupted while in the bathroom, after all.

But instead he’s surprised to hear a stifled sob and a small, nearly inaudible. “Kay.”

Ben immediately marches up to the stall, his concern coming back tenfold. “Five? Hey, you ok? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another stifled sob. “N-no.”

That’s definitely little Five in there, no doubt about it, Ben confirms in his head. “Five, can you open the door for me, please? I just wanna make sure you’re ok.”

It takes a second and some fumbling with the latch but when Five does open it, it’s only to reveal a splotchy red face streaked with tears and a runny nose.

Ben pulls him into his arms without a second thought and squeezes. “What’s the matter?” Five melts into him, his little hiccups turning to sobs.

“Don’t leave.” Five cries. “Don’t wanna be alone anymore. Please.”

Ben’s heart shatters and he holds his baby brother all the tighter. Five has been acting a bit out of sorts since Allison and Klaus left, and then with everyone else in the house so busy lately that they’re barely ever there during waking hours-well, Ben can see now why Five’s been extra attentive when his few remaining siblings decide to leave the house.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were feeling this way sooner.” He manages to pick Five up pretty easily-the kid, unfortunately, doesn’t weigh much-and Five latches on instantly, his legs wrapping around Bens waist and his arms around his neck.

He tucks his face against Ben’s neck and huffs out another sob. “Wanna go home.”

Ben rocks him gently back and forth, rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly. “Of course.” They’re going to have to take the bus, seeing that they didn’t bring the car, Ben is thinking, just as suddenly they’re transported from the library mens room to Ben’s bedroom back at the Umbrella Academy.

Ben blinks. Five doesn’t often use his powers when he’s in his little headspace-big Five has explained it to them before that when he does, it’s more of a reflex than anything, and oftentimes he ends up three feet to the left of where he’d intended to land, which doesn’t seem like too bad of a miscalculation, until it is.

Ben sets Five down on his bed, intending to go into the kitchen and prepare him a nice warm bottle, but that’s a mistake, if the look of absolute devastation on Fives face has anything to say about it. Ben holds out a hand. “C’mere buddy, we can go downstairs together, ok?”

Five takes the offered hand with both of his, gripping on like it’s a lifeline.

Ben gives in once they’re in the kitchen and picks a sniffling Five up and props him up on his hip while he goes about heating up the milk. “You know,” Ben says quietly. “You can tell us if you’re ever feeling lonely or scared or...anything, really. I know you were alone for a really long time.”

He can feel Five stiffen up in his arms. “Scary.” he mutters. And that’s all he has to say to that. The milk boils and Ben does some kind of magic trick in order to fill the bottle up while also holding onto a little. They end up back in Ben’s room and this time he sits down on the bed with Five on his lap. “Don’t wanna nap.” he whines softly, even though his eyes are already fluttering as Ben rocks him gently.

“But you’re so sleepy already.” Ben chuckles at the yawn Five tries to stifle.

Five shakes his head stubbornly. “Don’t want you to go.”

Ben tugs Five in closer to his chest and leans down to kiss him on his forehead. “I won’t. I swear I’ll be right here when you wake up, ok?”

Five looks up at him with big, teary eyes. “Ok.”

Ben decides the milk is just at the right temperature now for Five to drink and so he places the bottle at Fives lips and sure enough the little opens up and sucks on the teat hungrily. The milk they feed Five is a special milk full of proteins and a decent amount of calories-it’s honestly the only way to get their brother to eat most days. So Ben is relieved when Five ends up drinking the entire thing instead of leaving it half full, as he’s prone to doing.

Five is clearly drowsy, his eyes closing and then opening abruptly as he forces himself to stay awake. “Here, let’s try this.” Ben says, adjusting them so that they’re both laying down on the bed. He pulls Five in towards his chest and Five goes willingly, more than happy to be engulfed in Bens warmth.

Vanya finds her two brothers sleeping in exactly that position a couple of hours later-her practice having been postponed for a later date. She grins and takes her phones out to snap a photo-ok, several photos-and sends them to the family group chat.

#ask #answered #long post #tua #the umbrella academy #little!five #five is a little #littles exists in this AU #also ben is very much alive #bc i love him #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #hargreeves family #hargreeves siblings #vanya hargreeves

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shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years

Text

Music

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to come to this thing with you. I mean seriously, when have I ever listened to anything besides classic rock?” Dean grumbled as he followed his brother to their seats in the large concert hall.

“Oh, quit bitching,” Sam whispered angrily. “It’s Eileen’s last concert before she goes on maternity leave and you promised her you would come see one of her performances. Trust me, you don’t want to be on her bad side right now. I told her to wait a minute before I got her juice and she made me sleep on the couch for three nights.”

Dean smirked as they took their seats. “She’s got you whipped man.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s mocking. “When you get married, you’ll understand.”

“Hardly,” Dean scoffed. “Last time I checked, guys can’t get pregnant, so I won’t have to worry about a pregnant partner with random food cravings. I mean seriously, jelly dipped grapefruit slices have to be one of the most disgusting food combos ever. Even I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Whatever. Like the saying goes, people do crazy things when they’re in love. You just wait,” Sam said with a grin.

Before Dean could argue, the lights dimmed and focused on the stage. Since Sam was Eileen’s husband, they had special front row seats for family only. Dean watched with little interest as the orchestra members walked onto the stage. He saw Eileen carrying her violin and gave her a thumbs up when she looked in his direction. Dean groaned inwardly as more and more people crowded onto the stage. He never fathomed an orchestra would be so big.

His eyes were lazily gazing around him, waiting for the concert to start when suddenly his attention was snagged. Leading a row of orchestra members was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on. He had messy black hair that refused to be tamed. His face was square with high cheekbones and a strong jaw and Dean wanted to know what those lips felt like against his. He was tall, at least six foot with a lithe muscular build. Dean raked his eyes down the man’s body and nearly drooled at the thick thighs that were encased by the black dress pants he wore. Dean felt the breath leave his body as the man’s eyes quickly glanced at him before facing the front again. They were stunning blue sapphires that sparkled in the low light and Dean was already lost in their depths.

Dean refused to look away from the gorgeous man. He watched as the man settled in his chair before pulling a large stringed instrument towards him. Dean was mesmerized by the nimble fingers that ghosted over the strings, being careful to make a single noise. He stared as the man flipped through his music and imagined what those fingers would feel like trailing over his body. He shivered in anticipation.

Sam elbowed him lightly. “Dude, are you ok?”

Dean swallowed dryly. “Yeah, I’m good Sammy. I totally gotta get that guy’s number. Maybe Eileen could help a brother-in-law out.”

Sam looked to at the man that Dean was still staring at. He snorted before saying, “Good luck. That’s Castiel and according to Eileen, refuses to date anyone and everyone. He’s solely focused on his music and says he doesn’t have time for frivolous relationships.”

“Yeah, well he ain’t ever met me yet! I won’t be frivolous, hell, I’ll give him a hundred reasons to be with me if you know what I mean?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ugh, gross,” Sam huffed. “You can try, but I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when Cas turns you down.”

“Whatever bitch, just you wait and see. Cas is gonna be mine,” Dean argued.

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you get Cas to go on more than three dates with you,” Sam challenged.

“Deal! It’ll be like taking candy from a baby.” Dean smirked.

The men fell silent as the conductor held his hands up and the whole orchestra readied themselves. Dean jumped when the next sound was the loud bang of a drum. His eyes glued in on Cas and they never left. Dean hardly heard the music, his gaze so intent on the man in front of him.

They had gone through three songs and Dean couldn’t recall what a single one of them sounded like when Castiel suddenly stood up and moved towards the front of the stage. Dean’s gaze followed him like a hungry wolf stalking it’s prey.

“I would like to introduce our very own Castiel Novak. He will now perform a solo that he has written himself for the very first time. I know all of you will be blown away by his talent and skill.” The crowd applauded lightly as Castiel took a lone seat in front of the rest of the orchestra.

For the first time that night, Dean listened to the music being played. Cas’s fingers moved gracefully, making the instrument sing. The notes that echoed throughout the hall told a heart wrenching story. They described a man who was looking for love but had no idea how to find it. The tune was slow and melodic, and Dean was captured in its sad embrace. The minor chords resonated through the air and Dean felt a single tear roll down his cheek. Once the last eerie note had floated through the air, the crowd erupted into applause.

Dean jumped to his feet, his hands stinging with the force of his clapping. He watched as Castiel bowed deeply a few times before picking his instrument up and walking back to his original seat. He glanced at Dean again and flashed a small smile in his direction. Dean felt his heart beat faster at the minute gesture.

The rest of the concert was a blur as Dean only had eyes and ears for Castiel. When it was over and the orchestra stood for their final bows, Dean clapped along with everyone else. His eyes tracked Cas for as long as possible until the man walked out of sight off the stage. Dean sighed heavily, hoping he would get a chance to talk to him.

“So, what did you think?” Sam asked as they waited for Eileen.

Dean shrugged, “It was better than I thought it was going to be. Still prefer my classic rock but this wasn’t half bad.”

“Well, I’ll count that as a win in my book,” Sam said before walking around his brother and pulling his wife into a hug. “Congrats pumpkin, you did so good tonight! I’m so proud of you.”

Dean watched his brother and sister-in-law with fondness. Eileen was a perfect match for Sam in every way. After years of trying, they were finally pregnant and Dean couldn’t wait to meet his niece who was due in a few weeks. He pulled her in for a tight hug and congratulated her on a wonderful performance.

“Psh, you didn’t hear her. You were too focused on Castiel,” Sam interjected.

Dean felt his cheeks heat up as he glared at his brother. “Shut up bitch. I was not!”

Sam snorted. “Yeah you were. I bet you couldn’t even describe any of the music tonight besides his solo.”

“Well, I would love to hear him describe it,” a deep voice rumbled from behind them.

Dean spun around to find the gorgeous musician standing a few feet away. Up close, Castiel was even more gorgeous and Dean couldn’t suppress the small whimper that escaped his throat. He felt the blush staining his cheeks deepen. “Uh, hi,” Dean croaked.

Castiel’s lips spread in a small grin. “Hello. My name is Castiel. From what Eileen has told me, you are Dean.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m Dean and the moose behind me is Sam,” Dean explained as he held his hand out.

Castiel’s palm was warm and smooth as he shook Dean’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Dean. Would you please tell me what you thought of my solo? I heard that you prefer classic rock and I must say I’m curious as to what you thought about such a different genre of music.”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Uh, well, it was haunting and sad for one. I mean I had a tear rolling down my cheek by the end of it. I’m not usually a fan of slow songs but there’s no other tempo that song could have. And, um- I mean, well, I’m sorry that you haven’t found the person you’re looking for.”

Castiel tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Dean dropped his gaze, afraid he had said something wrong. “Well, the whole point of the song is about being lonely and how you want to find love but don’t know how, right? That’s why it was so dark and gloomy because you’re lost, and you don’t know how to find your way. Since the song ended on such a long eerie note, I’m assuming you haven’t found what you’re looking for and you’re calling out to anybody who will listen.”

It was silent and Dean finally looked up. Sam and Eileen were staring at him like he had grown a second head while Cas looked like he was close to tears. Dean felt his stomach tie itself in knots. He wanted to ask the musician on a date but instead he had offended him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean,” Dean started to say.

“Stop,” Cas ordered as he stepped closer. He reached out and hovered his palm over Dean’s cheek. “You just described that song perfectly. Writing it was very difficult for me because of how much of myself I put into it. You’re right, I am lonely, and I wish I wasn’t but nobody has been able to alleviate that loneliness.”

Dean wanted to kick himself for his next words. “I thought you didn’t do relationships and were focused on your music.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth quirked up. “That’s what I tell people to try and hide how I truly feel. Besides, no person I’ve ever met has been able to describe my music the way you just did. I would be honored if you would go on a date with me.”

Dean’s eyes were saucers as he stared in shock at the man in front of him. “Are you serious?” Castiel nodded. Dean shifted his head, so Cas’ palm rested lightly against his cheek. “I’m free now.”

Cas’ face split into a large gummy smile. “Let me go grab my things and then I will be right back.”

Dean watched him walk off before turning to Sam and Eileen. He smirked at his brother as he said, “There’s one date. Three more and you owe me a hundred bucks.”

Eileen gasped. “You guys are betting on Cas!”

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Dean fell heads over heels the moment he saw Cas, but I told him he’d never have a chance. I bet him a hundred bucks if he could get Cas to go on more than three dates with him.”

“Trust me, I’m not messing with Cas. I really want to get to know him, money or no money,” Dean said hastily, wanting to stay on Eileen’s good side.

She eyed him warily and warned him not to hurt Cas but otherwise wished them the best of luck. She never had to worry because Dean treated Cas like he hung the moon. He did, in fact, end up going on more than three dates with Cas. It was a whirlwind kind of romance and two years later they were married. At their wedding, Cas played a brand-new song for Dean.

Dean was in tears by the end of it because this song was different than the first solo he heard from Cas. This song wasn’t sad and dark but light and jovial. This song was about a man who had been searching for love and had finally found it. It told the story of an epic romance that was just beginning.

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

#writersmonth2020 #My writing #my OTP #destiel #musician

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radiioman · 3 years

Text

Flowers were scattered around him in the shop as he wandered around it, looking around to find something that he thought would catch the attention of someone. He always had to be flashy—it was Hizashi’s thing. Today was a very important day, and he knew that what he had to bring had to be extreme.

He knew she didn’t care about how flashy it was, but—he wouldn’t be Hizashi if he wasn’t flashy, right?

—

When Hizashi was hitting early adulthood (19), discovering who he really was and that he wasn’t going to fit into the mood that his parents had laid out for him, that’s when the argument had started. Kotone Yamada—His mother—While trying to understand her son’s interest was still on the side of her husband, Yamato. They wanted him to stop with this DJ Business—to listen to music that was more...classical and to join them in the classical music industry. Hizashi had damaged their hearing when he was born—but not enough to stop them from doing their jobs.

And then, the argument happened.

Hizashi was upset—he loved his parents but his whole life they were trying to make him some sort of prodigy. He was good at his instruments—but he didn’t want to play them all the time. He didn’t want to be stuck only playing the Violin or the Piano—The cello or the clarinet—No! He wanted to learn how to play electric guitar! He wanted to learn how to DJ! These were his dreams—He wanted to be the rad as hell voice hero, Present Mic! With the rock ‘n roll attitude and the kick ass style! That’s who he was!

And yet, he didn’t feel supported.

He didn’t really remember the whole argument...He remembered feeling hurt that he didn’t see eye to eye with his parents—and that most of the argument was with his father. But his mother—she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hizashi had lost control of his quirk, Kotone moving between Hizashi and Yamato—only to have her ears bleed and her hearing lost.

This caused a very large rift between them. Hizashi’s eyes were wide when his mother couldn’t respond because she couldn’t hear, and without a room the young adult ran to his room, grabbed specific belongings and left out the window.

This would be the beginning of his couch surfing between his friends until he got his act together, avoiding any contact with his parents. Though, he did study JSL as he grew up through school—and he knew that his mother knew it, so if he had to talk to her...they could do it that way. He didn’t expect a text message from her after several months, stating that Kotone and Yamato were getting a divorce and his heart sank. How could he not blame himself for that? Not only did he deafen her, but he ruined her relationship, too. What kind of son was he?

After he found out that the divorce was finalized—when he figured Yamato wouldn’t be around, Hizashi had set up a time to visit his mother.

[ txt: MOM 🎼 ]: Hey, I’m here.

There was no response as he stood outside the door, looking up when it was opened. On the other side stood a woman who was a bit shorter than Hizashi—maybe around 5’9” in height. Blonde hair tasted over her shoulder in a braid, green eyes soft as they looked up at him. She moved out of the way to let him in, expression soft while poor Hizashi looked way too nervous.

The silence was deafening, foot tapping after he sat down with her. Anxiety was building within him as he tried to figure out what he was going to say. He looked up at her, blinking as she started to sign to him.

‘I’m sorry, Hizashi.’

There was a look of confusion on his face, the blonde raising his small brows. Hands raised as he started to sign to her.

‘Sorry for what? If it weren’t for me—‘

‘The divorce wasn’t your fault.’ Kotone cut him off, shaking her head. ‘I should have been more supportive rather than agreeing with your father on how to raise you. You didn’t deserve that.’

The look of confusion was evident on his face, head tilted to the side slightly. ‘But your hearing—‘

‘It was an accident—and I forgive you.’

Hizashi felt like the world stood still. Did this situation...humble her? Or maybe she felt this way the whole time? His dad was...pretty strict. Hizashi pursed his lips in through, looking down until his mother tapped his knee with her hand so he would look at her.

‘Hizashi,’ she signed. ‘I want you to know how proud of you I am.’

He didn’t seem to notice the tears that had started to run down his face as his own green eyes widened, his mother’s hands moving to wipe at him, a smile on her face. He still couldn’t help but feel the guilt of what he had done to her—but her support was something he yearned for. She was...proud of him. It was a surprise, for sure.

From then on, their relationship started to repair.

—

Finally, he was able to pick something that reminded him of his mother. A mix of yellow, green and pink flowers. He hummed at his purchase, making his way to his car and putting it with the rest of the things he brought her. Food he made, a card, and now the flowers that went with them.

Now, he was given a key to her apartment. She knew he was coming so it wouldn’t alarm her—besides, he texted her to let her know he was on his way. When he got there, the door was already opened a crack—which was good because his arms were full. He pushed it open with his back before kicking the door closed, grinning when he saw Kotone look over at him from her seat. “Yo, Ma! I’m here!” She could read lips now, which was good for situations when he had his arms full like this.

Kotone got up and smiled softly at Hizashi, taking the card and flowers from his one hand, moving back to her seat to put the flowers on the table while Hizashi moved to the kitchen to put the food he made in the fridge for later.

He came back into the living room where his mother was waiting.

‘You’re late, Hizashi.’ She teased. With his hands free, Hizashi could sign again.

‘Hey, I was trying to find the best for ya!’

A soft laugh left her as she stood to move over and hug her son, Hizashi’s chin resting on her head as he hugged her. He pulled back with a grin so she could read his lips when he spoke.

“...Happy Mother’s Day, Ma.”

#ic #Drabble #Mother’s Day #I’m sorry for the things I did—I’m glad we’re better now. | Mother - Kotone Yamada |#I cry #long post

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deejadabbles · 3 years

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A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff. “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh #Atem #yami yugi #band AU #Yugioh Band AU #series: a thousand songs

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cerezawrites · 3 years

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Prompt 3 - Scale

A, B, C, D, E, F, G…

“Madame Hoid, are you paying attention to me?” the mustached Lalafell demanded. “I’m trying to explain the situation to you. This is quite important!”

Cereza played through the notes on her violin, working up the scales on each fret to ensure the instrument was tuned. Even so, she spoke. “Yes, Mr. Nalu, I am capable of doing more than one task at a time. This is a rather automatic procedure. Please, continue, explain the problem you’ve had with this wall.”

She kept working on it, the lowest string continuing to give her a bit of trouble as she carefully tuned and tested it. The two stood amongst Sil’dih ruins in Central Thanalan - not as infamous as Qarn, but a small find nevertheless. But progress on exploration had evidently stalled. The small man, Nanalu Nalu, harrumphed, but continued as she worked. “Well, as I was saying, I cannot understand for the life of me how we are supposed to move forward. The puzzle before us seems impossible to understand. There are no clues… just this strange code of lines and symbols.” He kept studying it. “The inscription was worn off… I can’t figure this out!”

She kept tuning the violin, eyes, closed. Nalu looked at her. “Are you LISTENING?!? WHAT the hell are we paying you for on this?!/ You’re supposed to be an expert on how to open these sorts of things and you’re just tuning a musical instrument?!?”

Cereza turned the knob one more smidge, and retested the instrument again. This time, her scales rang out perfectly. “Mr. Nalu, this instrument is, in fact, the key to open the way for us.”

The Lalafell shook his head, not understanding. “Shouldn’t you be using a spell to figure it out or some tools to pick open the lock? You’re an adventurer, not a musician, and even if you were the latter, I fail to see how those skills apply there!”

Cereza sighed and took grip of the Lalafell and pulled him back to his protests. “Mr. Nalu… look at the inscription again. Lines, and dots. Dots like notes. Lines like lines on a sheet of music.”

He shook his head. “And?!? What, is that a clue to the puzzle?”

Cereza rolled her eyes. “At the Sunken Temple of Qarn, there were entire chambers closed off because the clues had been eroded. No one thought to consider the locks and see which keys would work. It was only after figuring them out that we eventually figured out how to balance the scales at the end. But if we’d just looked, and thought, it would have been so much clearer. The wall is the clue.” She looked, and found the Clef at the beginning, noticing no key indicator. With that, she put her bow to her strings again, and started to play the song on the wall.

The sounds resonated through the room, until she stopped.abruptly. “Ah. That would do it then.” She went to the last note she played, and saw it had a “Natural” sign - in a song with no key. Except, it wasn’t a natural. There were small indents in the rock - a thief, or maybe the builder, had erased parts of the Sharp sign to hide the right answer. She made a note, and eventually reached that part and went through, with the sharpened note, until at last she reached the end.

“Well? What good did that do to any of -”

The lalafell’s voice cut off as the bookshelves moved, revealing path deeper under the monastery. “I think it did all the good in this place,” she said with a smile.

#ffxivwrites #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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The Dragon Egg (Part 2)

Part 2 for @secrettunnelatla

“No, this isn’t good enough!” Azula grits her teeth. It is decent work--as far as sound goes--but it isn’t battle of the bands worthy. Not even close. If they wanted to make it to Audio of Agni their concept would have to be much stronger, much less generic than a silly gimmick. “What kind of lyrics are these? Who came up with this concept?”

Chan, Zirin, and Ruon all point at one another before ultimately jabbing their fingers at Zirin who points to Azula herself.

Azula pinches the bridge of her nose. “Necrophilia, Zirin? That’s what you came up with?”

“You said that you wanted ‘attention grabbing’.” Zirin shrugs.

Azula rubs her hands over her face. “Our talents need to be attention grabbing.” Hers certainly are and she needs lyrics and a concept that will do them good service. “We need something that will highlight and showcase what we can do.” An absurd gimmick will only draw attention away from the aspects that matter the most.

“You got any better ideas?” Zirin grumbles.

Ruon quirks a brow and smirks, “we can try…”

“Don’t say it.” Azula frowns.

“Surf rock.” Chan finishes for him.

“We need something bigger.” Azula declares. “Something that hasn’t been done before.” She wishes that she would have saved their dragon metal concept for a later date. Then again, dragon metal is what had given them the propulsion they needed to break out from under her father’s shadow. The propulsion they needed to get their start.

But now she is at a loss for how to top that. She can’t imagine that there are many things that can top emerging on stage with a full suit of glimmering metal scales and glowing talons. She isn’t sure what can draw attention better than staring down an audience with reptilian contact lenses.

“I heard that steampunk is in.” Chan shrugs.

“Steampunk is overdone.”

“Zombies?” Zirin suggests.

Azula shakes her head. “The Blind Bandits already did that.”

“We can hold a seance on stage.” She tries again.

“Why are you so keen on utilizing dead things?” Azula pinches the bridge of her nose. Though a seance isn’t a particularly terrible idea if, perhaps, they incorporated other elements, such as handing out tickets in the form of tarot cards. “I suppose we might be able to work with that.”

But an evening of phantoms and psychic energy is a rather far leap from dragon metal and she isn’t sure that their style of music would line up neatly with the aesthetics of a supernatural night…

She spares a glance to the clock. “Keep coming up with ideas, we need to practice.”

“We’ve played these songs hundreds of times, shouldn’t we be coming up with some new songs?” Chan asks. “From Ashes To Phoenix, just announced their second new single.”

Azula’s face reddens if only slightly. “Zuzu can release as many new singles as he wants, that won’t make them sound any better than someone chewing on a microphone with feedback for three minutes.”

Chan stifles a laugh.

She should have known then that the rest of practice was going to be a waste. She has known Chan since they were children and she knows how he can be. She isn’t particularly surprised when he makes practice hell, purposely floundering his way through certain guitar riffs and singing off key when he saw most optimal. His screw ups always through Ruon off and eventually Zirin would practically flop over her drum kit with laughter.

As per usual, Azula is the only one not laughing.

As per usual, Azula is the only one with anything real at stake.

She is reminded quite potently of it when her father calls. Chan has thrown Ruon off for the sixth time that night, they already have to take it from the top so Azula steps out into the hallway and swipes to answer.

He starts in on her before she can even put the phone to her ear. “How is it that your brother has already put out two new singles and you haven’t even come up with one?”

“Because I’m trying to come up with something that has some quality.” She has chosen her words carefully but neglected to watch her tone.

She thinks that it would be more befitting of him to simply yell violently at her. But his voice is so slick and smooth that she can’t even hide behind incoherence. “I’m not funding your band for you to disgrace the legacy. I handed you a blazing torch and you are letting the fire die.”

“I’m trying to…” she pauses. “Pick out the best kindling. Something that will burn for a long time. Zuko is just tossing random sticks into the pit and hoping something will catch.”

This seems to satisfy him, though it doesn’t keep him from ending the call with a curt, “there’s a fine line between perfecting a song and stalling.” He doesn’t even know that she hasn’t started working on a song yet.

He doesn’t need to know.

She rubs her hands over her face. The man was pissed when Zuko’s first album flopped and he’d had low expectations to begin with. She vividly recalls childhood music lessons; they’d come so naturally to her. She could pick up a violin or stroke the keys of a piano and it would come out just right after the first few tries.

Her voice, they said, was golden. A gift. A marvel. She had impressive range. She has impressive range.

And Zuko, even with extra lessons and several teachers struggled to make use of even a recorder. His vocals were ‘generic’, ‘nothing special’ and sometimes he would sing off tune. Ozai wasn’t fond of his improv either when lyrics slipped his mind.

He still forgets lyrics.

His own lyrics.

Azula isn’t sure how he hasn’t yet been booed off of a stage. She supposes there are perks in having magazine writers fawning over abs and ‘chiseled faces’.

But she wants more than that. She wants real talent. She wants a voice so sublime and lyrics so powerful that they draw focus away from any other aspect of her. She loathes and dreads the day when they push out cover that fancies her physique over her genius.

She won’t rely on that.

Unlike Zuko, she doesn’t need to.

She has a voice and she can do things with it that so many others can’t. She glares at Chan and Ruon as they cackle to themselves. She joins them once more, whatever aura she emits, their laughter cuts off. “Are you finished?”

They nod and Zirin nods.

“Good.” She says in a low hiss. “Start over. This time lets focus. We’re going to have a new song by the end of the night.”

It will be a lackluster song, but it will pacify her father, at least until she can come up with something better.

By the end of the session the only thing that she has acquired for her troubles is a headache and a sudden resentment of Zirin. Chan at least knows when to bring a terrible and tired joke to an end. Zirin is a collection of relentless crass comments.

Even if she doesn’t mean any harm by them, she doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. Sometimes Azula thinks that Zirin is holding the rest of them back. Sometimes she regrets seeing the potential in her. Sometimes she regrets having vouched for her during music lessons until the teachers saw the same thing that she did.

Sometimes she thinks that she only lets Zirin stay because she is Chan’s girlfriend.

Sometimes she lets it go and carries on with practice as though the comments are only mild annoyances. And most of the time they are.

Tonight she has had her fill of aggravation.

Tonight she has had her fill of letting the woman pound on the drums every time she attempted to speak. She locks her microphone in its stand and without another word or a glance back, she leaves the recording studio.

As the door slams she could hear Zirin remark, “daddy’s little diva.”

She doesn’t know how long they wait for her to come back. But she doesn’t. Not that night. Were it not for her father’s expectations she would be well on her way to finding new bandmates. She can’t afford that yet; she is too pressed for time.

Too awkward and isolated to find anyone else anyhow.

She uses her walk home to come up with excuses as to why practice has been cut so short.

.oOo.

Seicho doesn’t expect a call so soon. Spirits, it would be embarrassing if her work had given Azula an allergic reaction. With the woman’s number flashing across her cellphone screen, she pictures rock ‘n roll legend, Fire Lord Ozai showing up at the shop all muscle and fury to tell her off for ruining his daughter’s flawless skin.

Seicho shudders and grins all at once. She isn’t sure if she would particularly mind getting yelled at by her idol, it would be like one of his concerts, but without the music. She picks up the call before it can go to voicemail.

“If it’s a rash, you should probably call the doctor! I’m sorry for…”

“What are you talking about?” She can see Azula’s half-frown through the phone.

Seicho clears her throat. “Nevermind, I thought that you were someone else.” She lies. “Is everything going okay with your tattoo?”

“So far, yes.”

“Are you cleaning it at least twice daily.”

“I clean it once in the morning, once at noon, and once at night. I’m not calling to talk about my tattoo.”

“What are you calling for then?”

Azula is silent for quite a while.

“I suppose I just want someone to talk to.”

Seicho very nearly asks her why she doesn’t just phone a friend, why she has decided to talk to her of all people. Instead she inquires, “what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.” There is a long pause. “Nevermind.” The phone clicks.

.oOo.

She feels foolish hanging up just to call again. But her father is still up and about, she sees his silhouette behind the curtain and she hasn’t come up with an excuse that he’d accept. She could tell him that Chan had to leave early but then he’d ask why she hadn’t continued without him. She could say that the other two refused but then he’d question her lack of control and ask why she didn’t practice alone.

She should just enter and get it over with, it is better if she does. It is the difference between a scolding and a slap.

But today she can’t take any more berating. She hits redial and holds the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Can we meet somewhere?” She doesn’t bother backtracking to return the greeting.

Seicho draws out her pause for so long that Azula nearly hangs up a second time. “Does the skate park sound good? I’m already there.”

It isn’t her scene. “I’ll be there.” She hangs up before the girl can change her mind.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Background Character #Zuko #Mai #Maiko #Fanfiction

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theewildflowers · 4 years

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reylo fic recs (4/?)

A random assortment of favorite Reylo fics I read this week.

The Food of Love by LovesBitca8 (E, 60k, modern AU) — Rey picked up her first violin at eleven, finding a mentor in conductor and former-violinist Luke Skywalker. With the First Chair up for grabs, Rey is thrust into the spotlight as the youngest violinist to take First Chair in the NY Pops. But Kylo Ren - former violinist, former NY Pops cellist, formerly Ben Solo child prodigy - may take issue with Rey Nobody sitting in his grandfather's chair.

To Have and To Hold by bunilicious (E, 16k, medieval AU) — in which Ben, a Norman conquestor, takes over Rey’s land and is betrothed to her in an arranged marriage. When Ben gets injured in battle, Rey realizes that perhaps she doesn’t hate him.

Overnight Sensation by second_chances (M, WIP, modern AU) — Kylo Ren, swimming legend, media darling, known asshole, is chasing his grandfather's medal record in his fourth Olympics. Rey Niima, nineteen-year-old nobody, proud new owner of two gold medals, is breaking records and grabbing the attention of the world in her first Olympics. The attention that's not riveted on Kylo Ren, that is.

The Great Big No by dietplainlite (E, 165k, modern AU) — Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. With some fake!dating.

Conscience and Unconsciousness by pontmercy44 (E, 47k, modern AU) — When Rey finds herself falling into a lie as Ben’s fiancée as he has temporary amnesia.

the man, the stallion, the wind by voicedimplosives (E, 18k, modern AU) — Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride. One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded.

Stuck by Ever-so-reylo (E, 1.5k, modern AU) — in which Rey and Ben get stuck in an elevator together, and they have history.

survival season by again_please (M, WIP, Canonverse) — Kylo Ren disappeared without a trace over a year ago, having escaped with his life and not much else in the aftermath of the coup that overthrew him. One night, after a year of silence, Rey gets a call from the Force that she just can’t ignore.

ghostwalks (gin and fog) by disasterisms (M, 42k, modern AU) — Ben and Rey are co-stars on a tv show but don’t really get along until they do.

All Our Days by voicedimplosives (E, 221k, canonverse/Persuasion AU) — the most angsty Reylo fic I’ve allowed myself to read, in which Ben (first a smuggler and later a Captain and hero) and Rey first meet when she’s 19 on Jakku, and later Rey has a family who returns to her. Based on Jane Austen’s Persuasion. There’s a happy ending.

Love It If We Made It by L_awlietxoxx (E, WIP, modern politics AU) — Rey and Ben are on opposite sides of the political spectrum, but that doesn’t stop them from falling together.

find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel by again_please (E, 18k, Canonverse) — The war is over, Snoke dead at Rey and Kylo's hands. The two of them find themselves feeling a bit out of place as the Resistance celebrates, and decide that the answer is a bit of good old fashioned Corellian whiskey. Enjoyed responsibly, of course. And in private.

A Good Fall by ohwise1ne (E, WIP, modern AU) — Ben Solo refuses to take a stunt double and pays the price when he breaks his leg filming his latest action blockbuster. His new physical therapist, Rey Sanders, seems to be the only person in Hollywood who doesn’t recognize the infamous Kylo Ren – and for some reason, he finds himself fighting to keep it that way.

we must be killers (children of the wild ones) by disasterisms (M, 11.5k, Canonverse) — Ben and Rey hunt down Sithspawn as part of Ben’s sentencing for his role in the war. Tagged: GRUDGING DOMESTICITY IN ISOLATED SPACES YAY.

Moral Ambiguity by delia-pavorum (M, 13k, Canonverse) — Post-Crait, Kylo Ren and Rey find that the Force Bond has remained open.

#reylo #reylo fanfics #reylo fics #reylo fic recs #reylo fanfic recs #star wars sequel triology #ben solo #kylo ren #bendemption #rey niima #rey kenobi #rey of jakku #rey johnson #ben x rey #rey x ben #rey x kylo

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rye-views · 4 years

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The Karate Kid (2010) dir. Harald Zwart. 7.4/10

I would say this movie, compared to the originals, focused a lot more on the physical strength.

Jackie Chan gave such a diff vibe from Miyagi, but likable nonetheless. I like Dre more than Daniel though.

Did Mei Ying get into the academy??

Memorable Quotes: “Being still and doing nothing are two very different things.” “Rock and roll.”

Spoiler: [About Dre moving to China from Detroit after his mom, Sherry, gets a job transfer. Dre meets a boy in his apartment building and he tells him to hang out at the park out front. At home, his mom constantly tells Dre to put his jacket up since he always leaves it on the floor. She also tells him to go get the maintenance man because the hot water isn’t working. Dre goes get Mr. Han, who doesn’t respond to his request for the water. He heads to the park and plays a ball game with boys. He also eyes a girl with her violin. He sucks at the ball game and moves on to Ping Pong, which he also can’t win. He talks to the girl and learns that she speaks English. He charms her until a group of boys start harassing her and beat him up. Dre goes to school the following day for the first time after covering up his black eye with his mom’s makeup. He sees the girl again and learns that her name is Mei Ying. She befriends him and he learns she’s trying to get into a music academy for her violin skills and has an audition in the future. She mentions that the bully is Cheng. Cheng constantly harasses Dre now. Dre passes by a kungfu academy with his mom and gets interested until he sees that Cheng is a student there. At home, Mr. Han shows them a switch that controls the hot water. The school goes on a field trip to the Forbidden City. Afterward, Dre sees an opportunity and throws a bucket of dirty water and Cheng and his crew. They chase him and ultimately catch up to him and beat him up. Mr. Han shows up and defends Dre and fights with the kids in a way that they attack each other incidentally. He heals Dre using a healing method of fire cupping. He doesn’t want to help Dre, but later agrees when Dre requests to confront the kungfu teacher of Cheng’s. He seems to teach them in a way that is about no mercy. They talk to Master LI, who doesn’t let them leave until one of them fights. They agree to have Dre fight in the tournament in exchange to have him left alone until then. Mr. Han agrees to train Dre. Mr. Han starts training Dre daily. His training is solely him taking off his jacket, throwing it onto a hanging stick, taking it off, putting in on the floor, picking it up, putting it back on, and repeat. He does this for days and believe it’s to teach him respect for his mom wanting him to pick up his jacket. Later, when he decides to give up, Han starts attacking him and teaching Dre that his learned movement from the training has taught him the basics of fighting. He then trains him harder. They also go to a festival as Dre goes on a date with Mei Ying. Sherry invites Mr. Han. They watch a show at the shadow theatre. Behind the scenes, Mei Ying tells the story to Dre and they share a kiss. Later, Mr. Han and Dre spend a day traveling to a Taoist Temple in the WuDang Mountains. They climb a bunch of step to drink water from the Dragon Well at the top. Mr. Han talks about how he experienced the same with his father and was told the water was magic. Dre also sees a lady staring a snake and the movements of each other being mimicked. Mr. Han says she is still so the snake copies her movements. The then have a day off from training because too much work isn’t good. That day is the day before Mei Ying’s audition, which he had promised to go to if she came to his tournament. He sees her and tells her to skip practice because too much work isn’t good. They go have fun. She soon learns that the audition was moved a day early and is in 20 mins. Her dad picks her up and she’s late, but shows up. She does well, but her dad makes her stop seeing Dre because he is bad for her life. She begins to ignore him from now on. Dre goes to Mr. Han and finds him trashing his car that he spent his days fixing up. He is visibly drunk. Dre talks to him and learns that years ago, Mr. Han was arguing with his family as he was driving and they died in a crash. He spends ever year fixing the car. Dre makes Mr. Han train him again at this time and it helps Mr. Han. Dre gets much better at kungfu. He then asks Mr. Han for a translation so that he can request

Mei Ying’s dad to accept an apology and to accept him. He says it all to Mei Ying’s dad, who says she won’t break her promise and will come to the tournament and he wishes him luck. The tournament happens and Dre gets all the way to the semi finalists. Cheng is also up there, but got there violently. Dre is against one of Li’s students, who is told to hurt Dre’s leg. He does and is disqualified. Dre goes against Cheng. Cheng is told to break Dre’s leg. Cheng does and Dre is with the doctor. Dre argues with Mr. Han and says how he wants to leave the tournament not scared. The fire cupping method is used and he’s back in the game. Dre wins after mimicking the snake method. Cheng gives the trophy to Dre. All the student of Li’s bow to Mr. Han.]

#the karate kid #karate kid #2010 #harald zwart #7.4 #movie #film #review #commentary #rye-views

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creacherkeeper · 5 years

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5 + 1 kisses through the years

1. kiss on the forehead

It’s 1148, and Aziraphale isn’t sure these wars are ever going to end. The Holy Land is drenched in blood, and he can only wonder if this was how it was all supposed to go. He doesn’t take questioning the ineffable plan lightly, but one has to pause sometimes, when one has seen something only described as an immeasurable tragedy, and ask if it was really meant to be seen at all. If it was meant to be seen by anybody, immortal and otherworldly or not.

He slinks into the room, just far enough away from the main fray that no one should be bothering him, at least for the night. This building has been abandoned, and he’s sure no one minds if he borrows a bed for a little while. He doesn’t need to sleep, but he wouldn’t mind if he slipped into it on accident. Mostly, he just wants to lie down. His body aches and his eyes sting, and he wants to grip his calloused hands around a pillow and just drift.

Something shifts, and his hand goes to his sword. It’s dark in here, but not so dark he can’t see. Just dark enough that he’d missed the figure sitting in the corner of the room, slumped against a wall.

“I should have guessed I’d find you here,” he says, and he isn’t sure if he means his voice to come out so harsh.

“Where else would I be?” Crowley responds, and he sounds tired. Bone-achingly, world-weary tired. “Where else would anybody be?”

Aziraphale glares, and then softens, his eyes too tired to keep it up. He closes them, one hand coming up to rub with his palm. “Shall we just agree not to bother each other for the night, then?”

Crowley scoffs, his head tilting back against the wall. “You’re the one who found my hiding spot.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Aziraphale says, crossing the room to sink down onto the bed. For some reason, the room seems too big, and his head seems too full. His chest aches. He stands again, and this time sits next to Crowley on the floor. The feeling eases.

Crowley lifts an ornate glass bottle and holds it out to him. When Aziraphale puts it to his lips, he expects it to be alcohol, but it’s only water. Somehow, that’s better.

He holds onto the bottle, swirling the contents inside as he stares down at it. Crowley’s head is tipped back, yellow eyes staring at the opposite wall.

“I want this bloody war to end,” Aziraphale whispers. His throat burns, and he takes another swallow.

“I just want to sleep.”

Aziraphale sighs, nodding. His eyes flick to the other side of the room. “There’s a perfectly good bed.”

Crowley swallows, and holds out his hand. Aziraphale passes the bottle back.

“Can’t,” Crowley says, and doesn’t continue.

Aziraphale nods again.

For a while, they sit, passing the bottle back and forth. Aziraphale jumps when Crowley suddenly slams it to the floor, the sound ringing in the quiet room. His body curls in as he raises a hand to cover his eyes. His shoulders shudder, breath shaking and wet.

Aziraphale sits, and waits.

Eventually, Crowley wipes his eyes and settles back against the wall, sniffing harshly in the quiet room. Aziraphale hands him the bottle again, and he takes a few swigs.

He doesn’t know if he’s overstepping, but what’s there to overstep in a war, so he tugs Crowley up by his sleeve and leads him over to the bed. Crowley sinks onto it, a little line wrinkling between his eyebrows as he closes his eyes.

Aziraphale watches him for a moment, the way his hand clenches and unclenches on his stomach, and then leans over to press his lips against the demon’s forehead.

Good sleep. Good dreams, he thinks, and by the time he pulls away, Crowley is already asleep. He turns and gathers the nearest chair, bringing it over to sit by the bedside. He can’t protect them all, but at least he can do this.

2. kiss on the hand

It’s 1612 and they’re getting swept away in the swell of people leaving the theater after the latest performance of Much Ado. It’s without thinking, really, that Aziraphale grabs onto Crowley’s hand to make sure they don’t get separated in the crowd. If he was a more honest person, he would admit that he’s had too much to drink and is a little off his guard, and if he was an even more honest person, he would admit that he’s been thinking about holding Crowley’s hand quite a lot, actually, and this seemed the perfect excuse.

But he’s not, so he doesn’t.

The crowd pushes and sways and jeers and hollers, all thoroughly taken with the comedic adventures of Benedick and the fair Beatrice. A lady too well dressed for this theater pushes past them, on the arm of an equally well-dressed man as she coos, “Well, it was obvious they were in love,” and Aziraphale blushes without knowing why.

“Fancy a drink?” Crowley asks him, shooting it over his shoulder as he finally manages to extract them both from the crowd.

“Oh, I’ve had one too many already, I’m afraid.”

Crowley looks away as he nods, as if to hide his expression. Aziraphale soon realizes he’s looking for something, twisting his head up and down the street. Their hands, he also realizes, remain clasped. He’s not sure what to do about that. He hopes his palm isn’t sweating, he feels awfully warm.

Crowley’s other hand rises and his fingers curl, and it’s probably a testament to his drink-addled head how long it takes Aziraphale to realize he’s waving to the coach that pulls to a stop in front of them. The coach driver peers down at them, and Crowley’s palm against his own burns.

“Ride for my friend,” Crowley says, fumbling in his pocket with his free hand. “Extra coin if you go easy on the turns.”

Money changes hands, and Aziraphale’s fingers come up to tug on his collar. The horse isn’t looking at them too, is it? No, he thinks, he shouldn’t be silly. It’s just a horse. If anything, it’s concerned about the snake by its hind leg. Its hoof lifts and taps a few times.

“He doesn’t bite,” Aziraphale whispers, tongue thick and fuzzy, and both Crowley and the coachman shoot him a look.

“Where ‘ya headed?” the coachman asks.

“Um.” He blinks a few times.

“Towards Leaden,” Crowley supplies, and the man nods and flicks on the reins. The door is opened, and Aziraphale stares dumbly inside.

“Well,” Crowley says, not looking at him. “Probably be around and about in a few years or so. Depends on what plays are on.”

He nods, still not entering the coach. “Well. Then I shall hope the bard’s next won’t be a sad one.”

Crowley smirks, just a little, and Aziraphale doesn’t know if it’s awkward at this point that they’re still holding hands. One of them should pull away first, but he thinks the process should have started a while ago.

“Right,” Crowley says, and clears his throat. Quick as a strike, he pulls Aziraphale’s hand up to his mouth and places a kiss against his knuckles.

By the time Aziraphale can blink, he’s lost to the crowd.

He stands and stares for a while, until the coachman grumbles about his dinner waiting at home and how it’ll have gone cold by now, and Aziraphale gathers his wits (what precious little he has remaining) and pulls himself into the coach. The ride home is bumpy, and the coachman most certainly doesn’t take it easy on the turns, but Aziraphale isn’t paying attention, anyway. The skin of his knuckles is tingling too much for that.

3. kiss on the cheek

It’s 1965 and if Aziraphale has to sit through another Beatles song he’s going to riot. He’s not sure where he’d be rioting, exactly. Not his shop, he’d hate to mess it up. The street? Seems plebian. Where do people go to riot these days? He hasn’t the foggiest. All he knows is that if another youth comes into his shop in a Beatles tee looking for records he’s going to turn into a kettle and scream.

He’s at the piano lounge sipping on a glass of Sherry that he may have aged himself. The pianist is particularly good today—he should know, he got her this job. It had only taken one particularly good recommendation to get her off the street and into a well-paying job. He hadn’t been assigned that one. He just liked her.

A man slips into the seat next to him at the bar, but he doesn’t pay much mind. He’s lost in the gentle swell of the piano and the taste of the alcohol on his tongue.

The man shifts, waving down the bartender. “May I buy you a drink?”

Aziraphale blinks. It takes him a moment to realize what’s been asked and who is asking it.

He smiles at Crowley with the corner of his mouth, not turning to look. “I already have one, thanks.”

Crowley nods, and the bartender pours him a bourbon, though he hadn’t said anything.

They sit in silence for a moment, sipping. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other, though maybe not as long as it could have been.

After a while, Crowley holds out his hand. “Anthony,” he says, waiting on a shake, and, oh, that’s what they’re doing tonight.

Aziraphale sighs something fond into his glass. He sets it down and meets Crowley’s hand. “Mr. Fell.”

“Mr. Fell,” he repeats, nodding. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

Their hands drop. Crowley turns away and smiles. “Know anything fun to do around here, Mr. Fell?”

Aziraphale chuckles as picks up his glass. “Oh, you’re asking the wrong person.”

“Am I?”

“This is what I do for fun,” he responds.

“Drink by yourself?”

“Listen to music,” he shoots back. His head tilts. “And drink by myself.”

“Well,” Crowley says, laying hard on the ‘e’, “if it’s music you’re into, you ever listen to rock n’ roll? It’s all the rage, I hear.”

“Don’t even start with me,” he gripes, eyeing Crowley’s smirk. “If you even breathe of The Beatles, I shall have to find another seat. I’m serious.”

Crowley’s lips squirm as he tries to fight away a grin. “Just piano, then.”

“Not just. Violin is nice. I love a good trumpet.”

“I bet you do.”

They look at each other for a long moment, and Aziraphale turns away to smile into his glass.

“Well,” Crowley says again, quieter, “if you like music, you must like dancing.”

“I don’t dance.”

“I’ve heard from reliable sources that you do.”

Aziraphale hums, and the sound reverberates in his cup. “I don’t dance …”

“With me?”

“Here,” he finishes.

Crowley’s drink clunks onto the bar. “Then let me tempt you.”

“You are one for that, aren’t you?”

“With the right audience.”

Crowley holds out his hand, for taking this time, and not just a shake. The Sherry swirls in Aziraphale’s glass as he considers. Crowley’s fingers waggle.

“If you make a fool of me …”

“No one will remember, anyway,” Crowley assures him, and this is the first time that Aziraphale feels he’s talking to him, Aziraphale, as Crowley, and not as Anthony to Mr. Fell.

“Very well,” he says, and sets down his glass.

Crowley pulls him to the open floor, surrounded by a dim, orange light and white-clothed tables. Kim the pianist tips her head at him as they pass, and he gives her a smile. There’s no one else dancing, but no one seems to be paying them any attention. It’s just the two of them and the little specks of dust that swirl in eddies around their heads.

His hand goes to Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley’s goes to his waist. The others are clasped together, held out to their side. They start to turn and twist, slow and languid, and it’s not dancing, not really. It’s the gentle sway of two people who can’t stand to be too far apart and don’t know how to say it.

“This is nice,” Aziraphale says eventually, sometime after Crowley’s hand has been replaced with a whole arm around his middle, and their chests are pressed together, and Aziraphale’s thumb has taken to tracing patterns on the side of Crowley’s neck. It’s not often they do this—the contact. It’s hard to justify when it could spell disaster for either of them. The wrong pair of eyes, the wrong ear, and that’s it, it would all be over. It’s easier to pretend they’re somebody else, two people for whom things are not so terribly complicated.

“It’s always nice to meet a fellow lover of the arts,” Crowley says, as if to remind him.

Aziraphale tries to smile, and he’s sure it doesn’t work, because suddenly a wave of sadness has crashed into his chest. “Quite.”

Crowley sees it on his face, because his lips pull down, and his arm gets a little stiffer as they sway. The song ends not long after, and another one fails to start. It’s the end of Kim’s shift. They’ll be closing up soon.

“Well,” Aziraphale says, throat bobbing. They stop, caught in each other’s arms. “I think I should be going soon.”

Crowley nods, and Aziraphale is glad he can’t see the disappointment behind the glasses. Aziraphale’s arms start to slip away.

“Perhaps we’ll see each other again sometime,” Crowley says, and before Aziraphale can say anything back, he leans forward to press his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek. The kiss lingers, warm and wanting, and Aziraphale’s eyes are closed by the time he pulls away. They don’t open as the warm body pulls back from his, and the sound of his shoes lead to the ring of the door.

He takes a breath and lets it out slow. His eyes don’t open until the hand falls on his elbow. It’s only Kim, the little figure of her at his side.

“He was cute,” she says, head tilting. “Did you get his number?”

He swallows, and his eyes linger on the door for a long while. “I think he’ll find me.”

4. kiss on the stomach

It’s 2019 and the world didn’t end, and his lips are hot on Crowley’s neck, and Crowley is taking quick little breaths beneath him, his fingers digging into Aziraphale’s shoulder blades. He wants to say careful dear, careful, because if Crowley keeps pressing like that, clawing and grasping, Aziraphale won’t be able to keep his wings in. Not that he has to. Not here, tucked safely away in bed, here, with Crowley, where they should’ve been all along. He doesn’t say that, though. His mouth is busy traveling downwards, down to the dip between his neck and his shoulder, down to nip at his collarbone. Crowley gasps and sighs, one of his hands finding Aziraphale’s hair.

I’m sorry I took so long, Aziraphale wants to say, and doesn’t. I’m sorry I waited. I’m sorry I was scared. I’m sorry I didn’t let us have this, what we could have had for so long. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

He wants to be here, he wants to be present, but the feelings are building in his chest, a six-thousand-year ache of shame and guilt and worry. He wants to spread his wings out, just so there’s more of him, more surface to spread the feeling around. He closes his eyes and kisses down Crowley’s chest, nails scratching at the demon’s ribs. Crowley tugs, and his eyes open. He stops.

Crowley, once he notices, stills below him. His yellow eyes find Aziraphale’s face, and he stiffens.

“What’s this?” Aziraphale asks, moving his hand to trail along it. His touch is gentle, and Crowley’s skin jumps in a shiver.

Crowley swallows. “It’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing, Aziraphale wants to say. It’s a scar. A burn mark, in the shape of a feather. That’s not nothing. His thumb licks the edge of it. Crowley shivers again.

“Is this from …” Aziraphale doesn’t know why he’s on the edge of tears. It’s just that this is something they don’t talk about. Crowley will joke sometimes, sure, or make comments. But they don’t talk about it. Aziraphale always knew that was off-limits.

Crowley’s hand finds his, and he tries to steer him away, but Aziraphale holds fast. He may be the Southern pansy, but he’s strong, in more ways than one. If he doesn’t want to be moved, he won’t be moved, and Crowley knows that.

He’s also weak, and that’s okay too.

He blinks his eyes shut, and the few little tears that escape fall on Crowley’s stomach. Crowley’s fingers come up to brush the wetness off his cheeks, muttering a little, “Don’t. Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale says. “I’m sorry, I—”

He buries his face in Crowley’s stomach, his eyebrows furrowing and face pinching as he tries not to cry. It’s a losing battle, because he is, and he isn’t sure he can stop it. It’s just that everything is building up, all six-thousand years of it, the pining and the want and the longing, and the anguish that came along with it. It’s all come to the forefront, right here, right now, and then there’s this. The fall. It’s a little too much.

“I’ve—” Crowley clears his throat. “I’ve tried to magic it away, but … Yeah.”

Aziraphale takes a deep breath, two, then three. His thumbs rub little circles on Crowley’s sides. Crowley twitches as Aziraphale shudders out a breath. Forehead rests against ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, gathering himself. He isn’t sure if he’s apologizing for the tears or the scar itself. He pulls back, gazing at it again. It’s long, stretching from just under his ribs to the line of his waist, a perfectly etched silhouette.

“Can …” Aziraphale cuts himself off. He doesn’t even know what he was going to ask. He swallows, blinking a few times, and then leans down. His lips against the scar burn.

Crowley inhales, loud and sharp, and Aziraphale doesn’t pull his lips away. They’re tingling and itching, hot and cold at the same time, but he’s strong, and he holds steady.

Crowley’s hand curls against his neck, and finally, finally, he pulls away. On the edge of a barb, half on the scar and half not, lies the mark of the kiss. It’s fresh and red but growing dimmer already. Slowly, it fades until it’s only a shadow. But it’s there. And there it’ll stay.

5. kiss on the thigh

It’s 2031 and they haven’t left the hospital for three days. It’s been a long time since Crowley was in a hospital, since he was in one for a birth, and though the circumstances are much different, he’s nervous. He’s been pacing up and down the room for the last hour, three cups of coffee gone just today, snapping at every nurse who happens to come their way.

“Labor doesn’t last this long!” he snaps, and the nurse gives him a sheepish expression. “Can’t you- I don’t know- give her something? Is she in pain? Has she slept?”

“I don’t—” The nurse swallows. “-have any more information at this—”

“Then what good are you?” Crowley hisses, and continues to pace.

Aziraphale yawns as he watches him. He’s gotten quite used to sleep, in the years after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, and sitting in this chair for the last three days, under the fluorescent lights and beep of distant machines, hasn’t done wonders for his brain. He’s foggy and tired, and, he’ll admit, a little cranky. Well. Maybe more than a little. He and Anathema have already gotten into a screaming match, were kicked out by the nurses, and had a tearful make-up in the parking lot. She’s currently asleep against his shoulder, so he knows all is forgiven.

“Crowley,” he grumbles, cheek propped on his fist. “If you keep pacing like that I’m going to make you wait in the car. You’re making me dizzy.”

Crowley stops, and Aziraphale is sure a little steam actually comes out his ears.

“Sorry, your highness,” Crowley gripes, hands waving. “I’ll just plunk down into a chair and not move for the next three days, how’s that? I’ll just sit there and stew until me and the whole building catch on fire, would that be better for you?”

“Anathema,” Aziraphale mumbles, his tired eyes falling shut. He knows she’s awake by how she stirs at her name. “Crowley is being mean to me.”

She hums, and Aziraphale cracks open an eye. She stars patting around for her pocket with hers still closed. The fabric of her skirt gives way to her, and the knife is out and open before either of them can blink. “Crowley,” she says, waving the knife in a sleepy motion, “if you’re mean, I’ll …” The knife drops a bit. “Mmmph.”

Aziraphale pats her arm. “Very intimidating, thank you, dear.”

She nods, yawning as she slips the knife away. “I’m gonna find food, I think.”

“Get me something sweet.”

She nods again, back cracking as she stands. She shoves half-heartedly at Crowley as she passes him, and he spreads his arms and scoffs.

“I want a coffee,” he calls after her.

“No,” she shoots back, and then is through the door.

Crowley grumbles, slouching over towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale pats his leg, and Crowley flops to the floor and rests his head on Aziraphale’s knee.

“Tired,” Crowley mumbles.

“Me too.”

“I want her to be okay.”

“Me too.”

“The baby, too.”

Aziraphale sighs, stroking Crowley’s hair. He’s growing it out again, but after three days here it just looks disheveled and messy. “I know, dear.”

Crowley turns to bury his face against Aziraphale’s leg, groaning. “Can’t you … do something?” he asks, voice muffled against Aziraphale’s skin. Aziraphale usually isn’t one for shorts, but it’s the middle of summer, and they’ve been hitting records for the past week. Plus, Crowley finally convinced him to get a new wardrobe.

Aziraphale swallows, twisting Crowley’s red locks between his fingers. “It’s been a long time,” he admits. “I don’t want to mess anything up. And with the baby’s parentage …”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, tired. “Yeah.”

They sit for a while, Aziraphale running his fingers through Crowley’s hair, growing sleepier by the second. He’s almost out when the door opens, both of them turning to look. They’re expecting Anathema. It’s not. Aziraphale’s heart clenches.

Adam looks exhausted. There are bags under his eyes, a shadow of a beard on his face, and his hair is as messy as Crowley’s. But he’s smiling. Praise where praise is due, he’s smiling.

“They’re both okay,” he says, and he looks like he might cry. “They’re fine, they’re healthy, everything’s fine.”

“No hooves?” Aziraphale says, because he lost his filter about two days into this stay.

Adam laughs. “Ten perfect little toes.”

“We’ll be right in,” Crowley says, and he sounds choked. Adam nods and exits through the door.

Crowley sighs, long and slow, and reaches up to his eyes for a moment. Now that the worry is gone, Aziraphale feels it was the only thing keeping them awake.

“Come on, angel,” Crowley mumbles. “Let’s meet the newest little antichrist.”

“Don’t even joke,” Aziraphale laughs, and his eyes are closed. “Maybe just a quick lie-down first.”

“Mm. Mm-mm, come on.” Crowley groans as he stands. “Where are your shoes?”

Aziraphale hums, his head growing heavier. “Don’t know.”

He can hear Crowley shuffling around the room, checking under chairs and tables. He finds them and gives a little “ah”, and crosses back.

Aziraphale feels the tap on his foot.

“Lift,” Crowley says, and so he does.

Crowley tugs the laces tight, but not too tight, and ties them off in a neat little bow. He continues with the other foot, but doesn’t stand when he’s finished. Aziraphale peeks open an eye.

Crowley is kneeling in front of him, staring up with a look of sleepy adoration. “Sorry I snapped,” he says.

“S’okay.” Aziraphale’s eyes blink slow. “Sorry Anathema pulled a knife on you.”

Crowley chuckles. “It happens.” His hand rises to fall on Aziraphale’s knee, thumb rubbing slow. “Love you,” he mumbles, and Aziraphale’s chest warms.

“You too,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley smiles and leans forward, pushing a kiss against the nearest available spot. The skin by Aziraphale’s knee, just below the line of his shorts. His skin tingles.

“Ready to meet our god-grandchild?” Crowley asks when he pulls back.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Crowley takes his hand, and together they stand. “It’s okay to be nervous,” he says, and Aziraphale laughs.

“I’m not worried about me.”

And together, they cross through the door.

+1. kiss on the lips

It’s 2117, and tomorrow they’re replacing the benches in St. James Park. Admittedly, the wood is getting old, and the bench is getting weak, and it’s quite faded. Still, Aziraphale will miss it. They’ve been sitting on this bench for a long time, and it’s put him in a rather contemplative mood.

“Do you ever think,” Aziraphale starts, “about getting old?”

Crowley turns to look at him, his braided hair shifting on his shoulder. Aziraphale likes that he can see his eyes, now. He stopped wearing the glasses a while ago. With all the new body modifications going around, most people don’t question it. “Just in general, you mean?”

Aziraphale sighs, looking back out at the pond. The ducks flutter and quack, and it’s a comfort. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed after all this time, they still love to come and watch the ducks.

“I mean us.”

Crowley hums, and his thumb strokes over Aziraphale’s knuckles. He turns to look as well. “Yes. Sometimes.”

“Do you ever wish we could? Grow old, I mean.”

Crowley takes a contemplative sigh, adjusting his slouch. “I mean, we could change these forms, if we wanted to. Nothing much would change, but we could.”

Aziraphale squeezes his hand and pulls them to rest on his lap. “I’ve gotten quite used to looking like this,” he says. “But, I don’t know. A change might be nice.”

Crowley turns and smiles at him, and he leans forward. Aziraphale meets him halfway. Their lips meet in the slowest and softest kiss. They’re not in a hurry, they haven’t been for a long time, and it’s enough just to feel each other’s heat and breath and presence. They let the kiss linger, and the change is slow. Slow and fast all at once. Aziraphale’s hair starts to thin, mostly at the front, and his cheeks sag a bit, and there are deep laugh-lines on the corners of his mouth. He can feel the change in Crowley, too, can feel the magical energy against his mouth and in the connected palms of their hands. He breathes in the scent of him, smiles against his mouth, and pulls back. He pushes another kiss against his lips for good measure, short and quick, just because he wants to.

There are new lines around Crowley’s eyes, now. His nose is less sharp. His hair is streaking grey, starting at his temples and twisting down into his braid. His hand comes up to cover Aziraphale’s, and both of them are veined and wrinkled.

“Is this what you wanted?” Crowley asks.

Aziraphale blinks back tears. “Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, it is.”

They sit on their bench and watch the ducks. To an outsider, they look like an old couple, quiet and content. They wouldn’t see quite how old, all the years they have between them, more years shared than the world has existed. But that’s okay. They wouldn’t see quite how content, either, not from the outside. But they are. It took six-thousand years, a lot of strife, a lot of fights, an almost-apocalypse, but they are. They’re together, and that’s how it’ll stay, and that’s more than enough in the end.

#aziraphale #crowley #good omens #ineffable husbands #FELLAS ARE YOU EVER JUST GAY?#five times theyre gay plus one time theyre more gay #you want angst? i'll give you angst. you want fluff? have some fluff #I OFFER THIS TO YOU #please send me prompts #luv u #THANK YOU CALLI AND CHARLY FOR GIVING ME THE IDEA FOR THIS AND HELPING ME CHOOSE KISSES #reblogging with the ao3 in a hot sec

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susoftjockau · 4 years

Text

Study Session #8 - Snow

“Snow’s starting,” Connie murmured, peering out the window of their study room. It was big, fluffy flakes for now, but she flicked open the weather app on her phone just in case. There would be a snowstorm in a few hours. The twenty minute walk back to her dorm was going to be chilly for sure, but she should beat the storm home. They only had thirty minutes left in their session, after all. “Let’s go straight to recital. Want to run your physics vocab song?”

“Sure! I was practicing before I came over,” Steven said cheerfully, ripping open his backpack. His hand vanished inside, and his joy slowly turned to a full body cringe as he pulled out a plate. “So, I…”

She giggled. “Packed the plate an put the ukulele in the sink, huh?”

“It was a busy morning,” he said. Steven often had busy mornings. She had thought about asking a few times, but she was just his tutor. It seemed so rude to pry into his personal life, even though with every passing week the boy grew more intriguing. Then, to her surprise, he said, “I sort of have a family business kind of job? Sometimes there’s stuff people rely on me for. I’m sorry if it messes up our sessions sometimes.”

Her heart softened. He really did want to be friends, didn’t he? He was so sweet. She could invite him over, couldn’t she? It would still be work, even if it was in a different location. Even if it was an uncomfortable bit of vulnerability. She cleared her throat and tried to sound casual. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but I play violin. If you want, we could finish up in my dorm. I live just down the road.”

“You never mentioned that!” he said eagerly. “I’d love to hear you play!”

She winced slightly as she remembered her last practice where she stumbled over Mozart’s concertos, trying to be better than she was. She was lucky her roommates hadn’t beat down the door to stop her wailing instrument. But Steven’s songs has simple melodies. She could handle that. She smiled and grabbed her things. “You have a car, right?”

He stiffened and laughed. “But it’s so nice! Why don’t we walk?”

In unison, their eyes went to the window, then back to each other. She really should let him sweat, have him think up a better lie, but she sighed and, as she always did, made up the lie for him. “Did someone drop you off today?”

"Yeah! And the guy tends to wander off. He’s a real animal.” He laughed.

Connie stared at him. “I know you think that’s a pun, and I have no idea why.”

Steven chuckled to himself. “Let’s get walking.”

The walk down to her place was a cheerful exchange about how they both were of the pun and wordplay loving variety, with a few brief detours about how the air seemed tense and wondering how bad the storm would get that night, but time moved quick with him, and they were at her home before she knew it.

Her dorm was a townhouse in a row of other townhouses. The balcony upstairs was uncovered and already starting to fill with snow as they hustled inside. The house smelled of a running heater and hot chocolate and marshmallows, and Steven and Connie both moaned. They glanced at one another, and Connie suggested, “One packet of hot chocolate doesn’t take long. And if you make it with soy milk, it’s even got some protein.”

He nodded eagerly. “Hours until the storm, right?”

She checked her phone. Ninety minutes. Thirty minutes of tutoring left. Fifty before the storm. Beach City was a thirty minute drive away. Connie nodded. “You should text your ride in a few to make sure they get here on time. You’ll barely beat the storm back.”

“Will do!” he said with a nervous smile.

There wasn’t time for that bit of weirdness. The occasional packet of hot chocolate was a wonderful luxury. Even her strict mother allowed one every so often, and a snowstorm was the perfect excuse. She made them in the microwave, too lazy to break out a pot for lazybones hot chocolate, and she and Steven sipped on the couch and started talking again. Oh, yes, Carly the cheerleader was one of her roommates. The electric kettle on the counter was Connie’s, because she drank a lot of tea. Was that an espresso machine? Yes. Natalie had apparently gifted it to Carly one year. How rich was she?

When the hot chocolate was done, there was seventy minutes until the storm. How had that happened? Connie ducked into her dorm and grabbed her violin and tried to play quietly in the common room while Steven sang along. As always, Steven had the lyrics memorized, and she was just about to praise him when he said, “The violin sounds so lonely. I’m used to instruments with chords.”

She expected to bristle at a comment like that, but his sincerity only made her want to correct him, to share what she knew. “It’s because you wrote it for chords. If you write a solo piece for the violin, it doesn’t sound lonely at all. I mean, not unless you want it to. The violin is so dynamic and… hold on. Just listen.”

Connie couldn’t do Mozart. Her hands were clumsy and Mozart was hard. But she had memorized Bach’s sonatas for recitals years ago. Cliche, but enough to satisfy her teachers. She was just going to play a few minutes from Sonata 1.

But she played, and Steven gawked. There was nothing critical in his gaze, like a teacher or parent. There was nothing glaze over or bored, like mall patrons or a senior citizen’s home. Steven watched her play like she was a real performer - the way she watched him.

It didn’t make any sense. Steven was good at his instruments. He could snatch a melody from the air, like picking a book from a shelf. His fingers danced across strings like figure skaters winning gold. He sang when he played because both were so easy for him. He played a dozen different instruments with fluency and overwhelming talent. So why would he be impressed?

She played the whole piece. Fifty minutes until the storm, but she didn’t check her phone. She discussed music with him, expressing the finer points of the violin and classical music to his indie rock sensibilities. The snow fell, thicker and harder, and the storm was upgraded to a blizzard, and it wasn’t until the wind began to scream that they noticed how dark it was in the room, because the storm had started half an hour ago.

She peered through the window into blinding white and sighed, “Your ride?”

“I don’t think he’s coming,” he said, without a glance at his phone. “Would anyone care if I crashed on the couch?”

“Ditching you in this weather,” Connie mumbled. Then, after a beat, she looked back at him and teased, “What a beast.”

Steven laughed, and she rolled her eyes and smiled. She had no idea how she was able to be in on a joke she didn’t understand, but Steven was a mystery. He asked again, “So, couch?”

“Of course. Who would put you out in that?” She smiled. “I’ll just let everyone know, then head to my room for some private studying. Just knock if you need anything.” She went to the stairs, then hesitated, wincing a little as she looked back. “I’m sorry I got you stuck.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright. Barely even feels stuck at all.”

- @universallywriting

This brings the Year One study sessions to a close! We’ll have other fic series and more art coming. And this fic specifically leads into another fic, and some art, that we’ll be posting a little later today!

#study sessions #year one #connverse #fic

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ladylillianrose · 4 years

Text

The Best Laid Plans a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

Summary: 5 times Max tries to propose to Zoey and one successful proposal

A/N: So this idea popped into my head the other day, and since I had trouble sleeping last night....tada!! I hope you all enjoy this fluff!

AO3

Max had it all planned out, a nice early dinner, a romantic walk along the beach to watch the sunset, and then he would ask her to marry him.

He had continuously checked the weather report, making sure that everything would be perfect. Sunny and 73 degrees, can't get much better than that.

Max had the ring in his pocket, it had been hidden away in his drawer for the past three years. Once he realized that he was no other woman for him than Zoey, he'd asked his mom for his grandmother's ring. It had been waiting there for the perfect moment, and today it was finally here.

Max had been nervous all day at work, unable to focus on any task at hand. What if she said no? She wouldn't...would she? No, he was certain that she would say yes.

He got home before she did, thankful to have a moment to calm himself down.

He opened the ring box and looked at it, imagining it on Zoey's finger. He smiled, a sense of calm washing over him.

"Babe? Are you in here?" he heard Zoey call out.

Shit! He quickly placed the box in his pocket, before heading out to greet her.

"Hello, love," Max smiled, pulling her in for a kiss.

"Mmm, hello to you too," Zoey grinned. She tried to deepen the kiss but Max reluctantly moved away.

"Come on, we've got to get ready."

"Wouldn't you rather stay in tonight? I can make it worth your while," she teasingly ran her fingers along his buttons.

Max counted to ten silently, attempting to steady himself. "You can make it worth my while, after dinner," he said, grabbing her hands before they slipped any lower.

Zoey pouted, "Fine….I guess I'll go get ready." She threw an extra sway in her hips as she walked into the bedroom to get ready.

Max breathed a sigh of relief and checked the weather again. Still sunny and warm, so far so good.

Dinner went by in a blur, Max was so nervous he couldn't even tell you what they ate. He spent most of the dinner checking his pocket obsessively to make sure the ring was still there.

As they left the restaurant, Max suggested they take a walk along the beach, hoping she wasn't becoming suspicious of his plan.

Zoey smiled, as she leaned on his shoulder, "That sounds lovely."

They made their way down to the beach, stopping to leave their shoes on a nearby rock.

As they walked hand in hand Zoey told him about the latest hijinks at work.

"Can you believe that Tobin actually got his ferret certified as an emotional support animal? She looks adorable in her little vest, riding around on his shoulder. Good thing Joan is too busy running the company to notice!" Zoey laughed.

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he listened to her. He missed working at SPRQ Point, sometimes. But he found his true calling in helping out schools and libraries with their STEAM programs for kids. He was a natural teacher, his job allowed his creativity to flow and the children all adored him.

A cool wind picked up as the sun disappeared behind a cloud. Max glanced up and frowned, those were some very dark clouds overhead. Then he felt the first drops of rain beginning.

"Maybe we should head back," Zoey suggested.

"It's only a few drops. It's not that bad," Max replied, determined to not let a few raindrops spoil his proposal.

As if the heavens had decided to mock him, the rain began pouring down suddenly.

Max rolled his eyes at the sky and grabbed Zoey's hand. They raced back to where their shoes were and jumped into Max's car.

"Well, so much for romantic walks in the rain," Zoey quipped.

"Yeah, I don't think they mean this kind of rain," Max dryly replied.

Zoey leaned over to kiss him. "Well, it was still a lovely time. We'll go walk along the beach another day."

Max sighed and nodded as he started the car. He could feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket, he needed to come up with a new plan, and soon.

II.

After the rain fiasco, Max determined that keeping the proposal inside was a much safer option. He decided to surprise Zoey with a trip to the California Academy of Sciences. She loved going there when she was younger and had talked about going back when they had the time.

"Oh Max, let's go to the Planetarium next!" She said excitedly holding the map. He nodded and grinned at her eagerness, and they grabbed a spot line to wait for the next show to begin. Max glanced at his watch, 15 minutes till the show started, plenty of time.

He took a deep breath, "Zoey, there's something I've been…"

"Oh my gosh, Max look!" Zoey pointed at something in front of them.

Max turned to see a couple standing in front of the Planetarium, the man was down on one knee and holding out a box to the woman. A small crowd had gathered to watch the events unfold.

"Yes! A thousand times yes!" They heard the woman shriek in excitement.

Everyone burst into applause, except Max who stood there looking gobsmacked. "You have got to be kidding me," he mumbled, annoyed.

"That was so sweet," Zoey smiled at him.

"Yeah, really romantic," Max tried to keep his voice light.

"It was. So, what did you want to ask me?" Zoey said looking at him.

"Oh umm...I was thinking I might want to grow a beard and was wondering what your opinion was," he replied.

"You wanted to ask me if you should grow a beard or not?" Zoey looked at him puzzled. Max nodded, hoping she bought the lie.

"I mean, I hadn't really thought about it before, but yeah why not. I think it could be a good look."

"You do?" He asked in surprise.

"Oh yes, not like a full mountain man of course. But a little scruff could be very sexy," she smirked, running her hand along his smooth face.

"Well, then I'm glad I asked that important question," Max replied.

Zoey looked at him oddly and shrugged her shoulders, reading the program about what they would be seeing.

Max rolled his eyes at himself. Really a beard? That was the "important question?" There wasn't anything better you could have made up? Stupid couple ruining his plan, stealing his proposal idea.

The happy couple walked by them, "Congratulations!" Zoey called out.

"Wasn't it just so romantic?" The woman sighed, smiling at her fiance.

"It certainly was. Wasn't it, babe?" Zoey smiled at him.

"Oh yes, very romantic,” Max smiled tightly at them.

"Ooo, come on, the shows starting, " Zoey looped her arm through his and bid the couple farewell.

As Zoey enjoyed the show, Max began formulating a new plan, this one would leave nothing to chance.

III.

"No, I don't want to do the ring in her drink or food. I'll just give you guys the signal and then the violinist can come to the table and I'll propose then. It needs to be at the beginning of the meal….yes I know most couples wait until the end, but I'm not taking a chance with this. Yes, okay, thank you." Max hung up the phone, relieved that all the details were fixed with the restaurant. He and Zoey would go out to dinner, order their food and then Max would propose with the restaurant's violinist played nearby. It was the perfect plan.

Later That Evening

*sirens*

"How crazy is this?" Zoey said, huddled next to Max as they stood outside the restaurant.

"It's crazy alright," Max shook his head in disbelief.

"It's lucky no one was hurt in the fire," She replied.

"Except the violinist's violin and the waiter's pride," Max reminded her.

"Well honestly, the violinist shouldn't have placed himself there. Maybe then the waiter wouldn't have tripped over him knocking over all those candles. I wonder why he was standing so close to the table near us," Zoey rambled.

"Who knows, maybe someone had asked him to play nearby, " Max shrugged.

"Hmm, maybe. Well, I'm starving since we didn't get to eat. I think I saw a taco truck down the way," Zoey smiled at Max.

"Sure, tacos sound good."

"Come on, last one there is buying!" Zoey teased racing ahead of him.

Max chuckled, as he chased after her. He needed to stop trying to plan the perfect proposal. He would just carry the ring with him and ask her when the moment was right.

IV.

The park was crowded, though it always seemed to be that way for the summer concerts. Max and Zoey had forgotten about them when they had made plans to take a walk in the park.

At least the paths were clear, everyone was crowding over at the lawn to find a seat before the show started.

They strolled hand in hand along the pond, quietly enjoying the way the water reflected the sun.

Zoey sighed and smiled as she looked at Max. "It's so peaceful here," she said. "As though we were the only two people here."

Max grinned, this was it, this was the moment. Palming the ring box, he knelt on one knee behind her.

"Zoey…"

"YO, ZO-DOG!" They heard a voice yell.

Zoey turned and saw Tobin walking towards them. Was that Abigail with him?

"Hey!" Zoey grinned and waved at the couple as they approached.

Abigail smiled at Zoey as she leaned in for a hug.

"Hey bro, trouble with your shoe?" Tobin asked, looking down at Max who was still kneeling on the ground.

"Ummm yeah, just needed to tie it. All good now " Max replied. He slipped the box back in his pocket, before standing up.

"What are you guys doing here? I didn't even know you were seeing each other," Zoey commented.

"Oh yeah, we just started hanging out, outside of work and we just clicked. We're keeping it on the DL for now, but of course, you guys know all about that," Tobin tossed them a knowing wink.

"What? No, we weren't a thing when we worked together," Zoey sputtered as she blushed.

"Sure, whatever. Anyway, we were coming to check out the concert, but it's some lame dad rock cover band so we decided to ditch. Figured we could go grab some burgers instead," Tobin replied.

"Ooo, burgers sound good right about now. You mind if we tag along?" Zoey asked. She turned and silently asked Max if that was okay with him and he nodded.

Abigail grinned and signed, 'Of course not. The more the merrier!' She looped her arm through Zoey's and they started to make their way out of the park.

"You okay, bro? You seem a little tense," Tobin looked at over at Max.

"Nope, fine. Everything is just fine," Max ground out.

"Well, come on then!" Tobin ran excitedly ahead to catch up with the girls.

Max shook his head, he was beginning to feel like the universe had it out for him. He sighed and went to catch up with the group. Maybe a public proposal wasn't the way to go, too many things could go wrong or interfere. A more private proposal, just the two of them at home, that was the ticket.

It was movie night, they had maintained the tradition even after they started dating. Though once they became a couple there were a few times they had to rewatch the movies because they got too distracted during them.

It was Max's turn to pick and he had decided on, Big Trouble In Little China . He got everything set up, making sure the popcorn and wine were ready, so they could start as soon as Zoey got home. She'd been working long hours this week, she deserved to have a night where she could just kick back and relax.

Zoey came wearily trudging through the door and dropped her purse, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Welcome home, love," Max greeted her with a kiss.

"Mmmmm," she replied.

"Go put on your comfy clothes and then come sit on the couch. I've got everything ready, so you can take it easy," he told her.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," she smiled at him. Slowly she stumbled to their bedroom to change.

Max put away her purse and keys and poured her a glass of wine.

She emerged in her PJs and Max led her over to the couch. She snuggled up next to him and took a sip of her wine.

Max hit play and they started the movie.

Zoey was enjoying the film, it was ridiculous and totally 80's, but it was the kind of fun she needed after the week she had.

She glanced over at Max and grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"What was that for?" He smiled at her.

"Because I can," she replied, reaching for more popcorn only to find an empty bowl.

"I'll go make more," Max said standing up.

"You don't have to," Zoey protested.

"I want to," Max replied, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Just relax, I'll be right back."

Max threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, as he watched Zoey from the corner of his eye. She was leaning on her hand against the armrest, totally absorbed in the film.

He smiled, this was everything he wanted in life, right here at home. It dawned on him that this was the perfect opportunity. He raced into the bedroom and retrieved the ring from his drawer.

He walked back out just as the microwave dinged. He poured the popcorn into the bowl and made his way back to the sofa.

He set the popcorn on the table and knelt on the floor next to Zoey's side of the sofa.

"Zoey, there's something I wanted to ask you," he started.

Zoey let out a small snore, causing Max to look up in surprise. She had fallen asleep…. Max shook his head and chuckled to himself. Poor Zoey, she was more tired than she had let on.

He set the box down and scooped her into his arms.

"I was watching that," she sleepily protested, snuggling against him.

"With your eyes closed?" Max teasingly asked.

"Hear better that way," came the mumbled reply.

"Mmhmm, and the snores?"

"I don't snore!"

"No, you're right, my mistake. Must have been someone else snoring."

"Hmph," Zoey responded.

Max gently placed her in their bed and tucked her in. "I love you, Zoey."

"I love you too, Max," she sleepily replied.

Max smiled and headed out to put away everything. He picked up the ring box and sighed, someday he'd get the chance to ask her, and it would be absolutely perfect.

+ 1

Zoey jiggled her leg nervously under the table where they sat.

"Zoey, are you okay? You look pale..er than usual," Max asked her.

"No, I'm fine. I'm actually really happy*," Zoey replied grinning at him.

"Oooookay," Max said looking at her oddly.

Mo had invited them to hear him perform at a local bar's open mic night, so they went to support him.

"When do you think Mo is on?" Max asked.

"Mmm, I don't know. Oh, look here he comes," Zoey pointed to the stage.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Mo, but I am not the one who will be dazzling you tonight with my voice."

Max looked at Zoey confused, and she shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Instead, my good friend, Zoey Clarke, has a very special performance for you all," Mo grinned and gestured for Zoey to come up.

Max stared at her as she stood up and tossed a wink at him as she made her way to the stage. Mo handed her the microphone, "Thank you Mo. Hello everyone, I'm Zoey Clarke, and Max, this one's for you."

Zoey blew Max a kiss and began to sing.

I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You treat me like I'm a princess

I'm not used to liking that

You ask how my day was

You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You're so much braver than I gave you credit for

That's not lip service

You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

Max watched, stunned as Zoey sang to him. She began to make her way off the stage still singing, as she walked towards him.

You're the best listener that I've ever met

You're my best friend

Best friend with benefits

What took me so long

I've never felt this healthy before

I've never wanted something rational

I am aware now

You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

The music stopped as Zoey stood in front of him smiling. She slowly lowered herself to one knee. "Max Richman, you are the love of my life, my best friend, and I can't imagine spending another moment without you by my side. Will you marry me?"

Max slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box. "That was supposed to be my line," he grinned. "Yes, Zoey Clarke, I'll marry you!"

Max pulled her up, slipping the ring on her finger before capturing her lips with his.

Around them, everyone in the bar cheered and congratulated them.

They pulled apart flushing and breathless.

"I guess the universe was trying to tell me something after all," Max grinned.

Zoey looked at him confused.

"I'll tell you later."

"I'm just glad everything went smoothly. You have no idea how worried I was that something would go wrong or ruin it!" Zoey told him.

"No, you're right, I haven't a clue how that feels," he laughed and pulled her into another kiss.

A/N: Song is "Head Over Feet" by Alanis Morissette (Listen to it here https://youtu.be/4iuO49jbovg)

*Episode 1x07

#clarkeman fanfiction #Clarkeman #max x zoey #zoey x max #max x zoey fanfiction #zoey x max fanfiction #max richman #zoey clarke #Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist #zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction #ZoeysPlaylist #Zoeysplaylist fanfiction #zoeys playlist #Zoeys playlist fanfiction #fanfiction #The Best Laid Plans

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chalcid · 3 years

Text

8: Reemai of the Brambles (Disappear)

I glanced at the rain outside the window, and then at the TV.

"Meteorologists are saying that we are entering the rainy season early this year," The person on TV said "But not everyone is feeling gloomy about this turn of events. A nine-year-old Water Elementalist from the center of the island just figured out how to make your own water umbrella-"

I turned off the TV. "Come on, why won't you let me outside?"

"It's raining, Merika," Mom sighed.

"Yes," I said, gesturing at the window "It's raining. Why am I not outside? Outside is where all the puddles are. I should be splashing in them! I should be finding cool rocks and things washed up on the beach."

"I don't want to get out the shoe dryer..."

"The weather people say that the rainy season is starting, Mom. And I'm out of indoor things to do and this house is suffocating me," I sighed.

"I don't want you walking around in the rain for no reason, Merika."

"I just gave you, like, five."

"Merika..."

"Fine," I snapped "You want reason? You want me to wander with purpose? I'll give it to you."

I whirled my coat dramatically and stormed up to my room.

It was the best room in the house if I did say so myself. Technically, it was the attic, but it had all of my stuff, therefore it was a room. The back wall was actually a large triangular window, covered with an old table cloth because Uncle Decimus couldn't figure out how to set up curtains or blinds for it.

I flung myself on my bed dramatically and whipped out my phone. What sorts of trouble could I get up to today, and who could join me.

I called Trite first, but he didn't pick up his phone. Next, I tried Poseikion

"Hey, what are you guys up to," I asked "Anyone down for an adventure?"

"Trite's baked almost half the recipes in his new cookbook today alone," Poseikion reported. "And Pacifinos hasn't left their room at all today. So I'm just going to assume that their answer would be no."

"And you?"

"I'd love to, but I'm ultra grounded until I turn in those four math assignments I missed, so I can't," he paused. "Actually, I'm not even supposed to be talking to you, so I gotta run."

"Understandable, good luck," I said just before he hung up.

It was a long shot, but maybe Edonia would like to hang out.

She cleared her throat. "Hello, Merika."

"Heyyy," I said, "Wanna go on an adventure?"

"Uh..." she paused. "Anything specific in mind?"

"We could grab snacks," I suggested, "Or check out the library if you want."

"Those are remarkably un-Merika activities."

"To be completely honest," I told her "I just want to be outside, but my mom won't let me without a specific task in mind. We could also hunt for lost treasure or go looking for pretty shells or break into a building if you want to, but I figured those weren't really your thing."

"Thanks, how thoughtful of you," Edonia said "But-"

One of her sisters yelled "Oh, come on, Eddy, you're always cooped up in that tower bedroom of yours. How about you do something that's not practicing ancient evil magics or getting into heated debates about dead people."

A chorus of people yelled in response "The violin isn't evil, you're just jealous you don't have the magic."

"Okay, fine. Meet me at Bramble Woods, there are supposed to be some really old ruins over there."

"Like, human-age old?"

"No, just from the first failed colonization attempt."

"Oh. Cool, cool, meet you there."

I hung up and raced downstairs.

"Okay, Mom," I shouted as I pulled my raincoat over my other coat "I've found a purpose to wander for, now. I'd say I'll be back before dinner time, but we both know I'm not even going to try. Bye Mom, love ya!"

Kev ran up to me "Where are you going?"

"Bramble Woods," I informed her.

"But that's really far," she protested.

"Yeah," Lawrence said, popping his head out from behind the couch back. "Like eighty million miles away."

"Not that far," I said.

"Four and a half miles," Kev said "I think?"

"Sounds about right to me."

"You're just going to walk that far all alone?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm coming with you," she said stubbornly.

"Kev, you don't even have a raincoat."

She responded by opening the closet and putting on one of dad's raincoats, and despite the fact she was practically swimming in the coat, she still pulled off the look far better than he did.

"Are you really sure," I said "I'll be fine, but you're more of an indoor person."

"A good sister wouldn't let her sister go that far alone," Kev said stubbornly.

Damn, these kids were really committed to the whole sibling idea. I couldn't help but feel bad.

"Are you sure," I repeated "Because I'm going to meet up with a friend and then we're going to walk in the woods. And then we'll have to walk home. That's a lot of walking."

"I'm sure," Kev said.

"Fine, but if you tire yourself out, I cannot give you a piggyback ride," I said.

I was sure to go slower than normal for Kev's sake. It took us forever to get there, but we made it eventually, soaked.

"Hey, Merika," Edonia said. She was holding a black umbrella. "Who's this?"

"This is Kev," I said. "She's..." I trailed off. I couldn't say 'stepsister'. I wasn't emotionally ready for that. "She's Kev," I concluded stupidly "She insisted on coming with me, so don't, y'know, freak out that I dragged a child through the rain for four miles."

"That far," Edonia commented, surprised.

"Four and a half," Kev mumbled.

"Wow. I thought one of your many parents would drive you here."

"Could everyone stop with the parent jokes?" I sighed.

"May I stand underneath your umbrella, please, miss" Kev asked Edonia.

"Sure thing, muffin," Edonia said, making room for Kev. Absently, she helped roll up Kev's sleeves. "Why didn't you bring one?"

"Umbrellas are for the weak," I declared.

Edonia rolled her eyes at me.

"Right" I cleared my throat "Let's see some cool ruins, eh?

The first half an hour or so went by fairly uneventfully. The woods, as woods do, got darker and weirder the further we went in. Kev and Edonia talked about the books they were reading, and Edonia had several recommendations for her.

A two-headed deer runs past us. Edonia put her hand over Kev's mouth to stop her from screaming.

I, on the other hand, possessed no fear or common sense. I raised my cellphone and took a picture.

Edonia's sharp intake of breath told me that was very bad.

The deer sniffed the air and screamed with both mouths, pursuing other prey or maybe declaring war. Who knows.

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Merika, they eat people," Edonia hissed "And they're very sensitive to light. You better thank your lucky charms that that phone wasn't on flash because otherwise, we'd all be dead. That's why the first colony packed up and left, by the way. Because seventeen people were eaten."

"Did those things used to be all over the island," Kev asked fearfully.

"Not all over the island. They had much more territory to themselves, but they mostly just lived here. I never thought I'd actually get to see a Calandra Deer myself," Edonia said.

"Any other weird creatures we might run into?" I asked.

Edonia scrunched her eyebrows together "I'm a little too panicked to remember."

We glanced at Kev.

"Do you want us to head home?" I asked her

"I'm fine," she said, but there was a slight quiver in the voice.

"I mean, we don't know where the ruins are, and it's really creepy here," I said"No judgment if you want to go home?"

"I do, but I want to finish this," Kev said.

"Understandable, let me know the second you change your mind," I said.

We plodded along the old trail, not daring to speak. A person-shaped shadow darted along beside us, just off the trails. Two crows flew off.

I was beginning to doubt everything I've been ever taught about the way the world works. This place was haunted, more haunted than most places with actual ghosts. I've been in shipwrecks, and there are plenty of skeletons and the meanest, saltiest ghosts you can imagine, but none of those put the fear of the universe into me like here.

Nobody believes or speaks of the Wild Magic anymore. I think I picked up a library book about it once but I couldn't actually finish it. At the time, it was because the author who had written it believed in it so deeply that I couldn't stop laughing, but now I believed.

Some things just don't fit into the way the world works.

"So," Kev said "What's in these ruins?"

"Well, it's the remnants of the first attempt to colonize on Ilcodeux," Edonia said animatedly "Or, Wildeeria, as people called it back then. People don't like talking about that one. A hundred and fifty years before Ilcodeux was even a notion, a group of settlers, led by Erina Wild, founded Wilderia and built the town near a lake in the middle of the forest-"

"-so we're looking for a lake?"

"Yes! Anyways, the colony was built here due to the large quantities of an unusual wood, instrument-grade stuff. This place used to be worth a fortune-"

Then I tripped on an especially large root and I fell right off the trails. My face was buried in red grass that smelled like bacon. I peeled myself off the ground and glanced directly into the face of the most terrifying shadowy monster person I have ever seen.

Credit to me, I didn't scream, but I did stare at the person in a way of shock and horror that no doubt made them sad.

They were actually made of shadow, except for three glittering scarlet eyes, two on the right, one on the left.

"Wait," they said, "I know you from somewhere."

They dragged a shadowy claw underneath my chin. "You're that girl Thordis has a soft spot for, right?"

"I don't remember you," I squeaked bravely.

"Ah, yes, you wouldn't. Not when I was like this."

They snapped and with a swirl of magic, they looked like a normal person. Their hair, I noted, was the same color as their eyes were in their other form.

I tried to drag the name from the depths of my memory "Reemun? No, wait, Reemal?"

They sighed "Reemai."

"Oh, sorry," I said nervously "You're in her band, though? How can you play guitar when you're..." I trailed off "Not an Instrumentalist."

"Wild Magic, darling," Reemai wiggled their fingers "It can disguise itself as other things very easily."

"Oh," I said "That's nice."

"But nevermind that," Reemai said "What are you doing in these woods?"

"Searching for ruins," I said. "With my friend and... ah screw it, it doesn't matter. Please just put me back now."

"Okay, if that's what you want," Reemai said, "Or I could take you to the ruins."

"Can't you just direct me to them," I asked? "I really need to get back to my geeks, and we already encountered a Calandra Deer so I'm a little on edge."

"Of course, of course," Reemai said soothingly "On one condition-"

"-my soul is not up for grabs-"

"-You buy me a coffee. And I get to choose when and where."

"Deal," I said reluctantly.

"Very well. Follow the swords to get to the ruins."

"What," I asked, but Reemai snapped their fingers and suddenly, the world was a swirl of black and red.

"Follow the swords," a chorus of things in the dark whispered, "Follow the swords."

#writing #wip disappear

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