Mick Jagger // One Shots

001: I Just Want To Make Love To You

y/n moves to California with her mom, and Mick, her new neighbor decides to greet her.

Your mom and you just arrived at our new house in Southern California. You didn't have an exact reason for moving here specifically--you just wanted to get out of Washington.

A couple months ago, your father passed away from cancer, and your huge house in Washington wasn't cutting it for us anymore. The extra space only reminded you and your mother of his absence more—it only brought you more sadness. So you did the only thing you could—sell it and move far away.

It was late at night when you finally got settled in to our new home. Almost all you and your mom's possessions were unboxed, except for you own items which were all sitting in boxes in your room.

"I'm going to unbox some of my stuff before heading to bed," you tell my mom as you stand up from the couch and walk to the trashcan to toss your paper plate away. You decided to have takeout for dinner since there was next to no food in the house.

"I might do the same thing, y/n," your mom says, standing up and throwing away her plate as well. "See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow."

She stands with her arms open, ready for a hug, which you obviously agree to. You were never really was a 'hugger' until your dad's death. You didn't realize how much you would miss his hugs until he passed, and you can't think of anything you wouldn't do to hug him one last time. Because of that, you and your mom made it routine to hug at least once a day. She needed the support as much as you did—you could tell.

Your room had only one window, which happened to be facing my neighbor's window. There wasn't really a 'scenic' view like most people would want, or like you had in Washington, but you didn't mind it. Usually, you keep the curtains shut most of the time, regardless of what was outside. You liked your privacy.

Given that, the first thing you decide to do is put up the curtains. It was pretty late, seven o'clock, to be exact, but as you looked out the window, you noticed the summer night sky still had traces of the pink and orange sunset from earlier in the evening. You like to think my dad was making the sunsets for you and your mom; you like to imagine him painting the sky, blending the warm and cool colors together, and watching you admire his beautiful artwork.

As you worked on hanging my curtains, you hear something hit the window. You drop the curtain rod, catching it only just before it could touch the ground.

You look out the window to see what had made the noise and jump back, surprised, when you see a boy, who looked to be only a couple years older than you, standing only a few feet away from your window.

Were you dreaming? Or is walking up to people's windows just a normal thing in California?

The boy had long, messy, dark brown hair that swept in front of his face and pouty, deep pink lips. He wore a white sweater and black skinny jeans that fit him well.

You didn't realize you had drawn myself into a trance until the boy snapped you out of it. "Open the window for me so I can stop yelling?" he questions. His voice didn't sound too loud to you, but you could tell it was raised so you could hear.

You unlock the window and push it up. When you look back up at him, he had a subtle smirk on his face that caused your cheeks to flush a light shade of pink. You look down slightly, hoping he wouldn't be able to see your blush, though you're sure he could.