#and she had little to do with the melody of half the album at least

[whiskeyswifty]

.

[senelope]

wish i'd never met you (s. gojo x f!reader)

famous!gojo x reader ; 7.4k words ; angst / smut ; minors dni

You dream of stage lights and sold out shows. But all your voice provides are little jingles – for cat food advertisements. All of that changes – in the best and worst ways – when you meet Satoru Gojo, who owns the life you can only fantasize about. And, someone who knows a thing or two about bringing your fantasies to life.

The sky was dyed with a dusty pink hue as the sun set, and yet another work day came to a close with you frustratingly slamming your laptop closed. Yet another disappointing melody.

How were you supposed to be a famous artist if you couldn’t even finish a song first? 

And that wasn’t even the job you were at. To pay the bills, you pick up odd jobs here and there, most recently being a freelance voice actress for an up and coming organic cat food company. Meowmy! You’d screeched in a high-pitched voice until the co-founders – famous idol turned business woman Nobuko Takada, and her manager, a large man named Aoi Todo – were happy. 

“You wanna come to our surprise birthday party?” asked Nobuko at your last recording session, winking, sending the invitation to your phone, which vibrated in your back pocket. 

“Oh, happy birthday,” you said, sliding your headphones off and walking out of the recording studio.

“Not hers,” Aoi said, when you were standing beside them in the recording studio. The lights from the machines hurt your eyes; you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night trying to write new songs you hoped would either go viral or get you an agent. “It’s for my brother, Yuji.”

“Yuji Itadori?” you asked, brightening. Takada was a well known idol, so there did stand a chance that her manager was related somehow to the famous martial arts actor who was currently taking social media by storm.

Aoi brightened, making the burly man look far more approachable. “That’s him.”

“Hey,” began Nobuko, excitedly. “Weren’t you looking for a replacement performer? Since Gojo canceled at the last minute?”

You gasped at the name drop. Satoru Gojo was a media sensation – a down right superstar. Starting off as the bright center to a boy band named Honored Ones, then establishing rockstar success with his chart-topping album The Honored One announcing his solo career debut. He’d next taken the acting world by storm, and with his martial arts abilities, was also known to be Yuji Itadori’s mentor, Satoru himself having been the one who scouted him while on a trip where he also scouted the reserved Megumi Fushiguro as a soulful singer. 

But you didn’t want to give in so easily. And especially without hearing a contract mention or a price quote. You had to look after yourself alone, so you had to prioritize yourself first.

So you cleared your throat, and asked what they’d pay you. The price that Nobuko said made your eyes bulge, especially when you registered the even higher price that Aoi said immediately as Nobuku finished. She tilted her head in Aoi’s direction.

“Nevermind, then. What he said,” she said, sliding her giant designer sunglasses over her wide golden eyes. She tightened her ponytails after stretching. “We’ll send the performance money soon as you walk through Aoi’s penthouse.”

You gulped. This wasn’t the first-time the wealthiest of your clients reminded you of their overflowing pockets. “I’ll see you there. Do you want covers, or originals?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she said, not looking at you as she began to leave, Aoi right behind her, holding her purse and car keys. 

“Do whatever you want.” The duo left, and you decided to spend the remaining half an hour you had in the studio – it charged by the hour – on trying to record new original songs you might perform. 

But, by that time, the sun was setting and you had no worthwhile melody to show for it. 

Looks like covers it was. Oh, well. Satoru wouldn’t mind if you covered his songs, right? Plus, he wasn’t even going to be there. At least you were used to belting his songs in the shower, so not much time would go to memorizing and practicing. And it had the added bonus of having absolutely nothing to do with cat food. What more could a girl ask for?

Satoru didn’t have the bandwidth for this. His manager was talking about how he had to stop his homewrecking tendencies – in fact, keeping up with hiding them was costing them all the royalties that still came in from his debut. But how was he supposed to do that when the men and women who caught his eye just deserved his touch, regardless of what shone on their ring finger. Oh, whatever. 

“Alright, Suguru, I got it,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “You’re ruining my appetite. I needa be hungry for Yuji’s birthday bash. I gotta eat lots of it. I mean, I chose the cake personally.” He reconsidered. “Well I told Todo what to order –”

“You’re not going,” Suguru said, flipping his smartphone – the newest electric blue one of the folding line Samsung came out with in collaboration with Satoru – closed with attitude. “But I still am. It’s your punishment.”

“But I’m performing,” Satoru said, sputtering. “C’mon, Suguruuu!”

“Canceled with Todo this morning. You are going to spend your evening crafting an apology statement for sleeping with both of Jogo’s wives. His current and his ex!”

Satoru snickered. “They married him for his money anyway. I was the one gracious enough to give them some of this co–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Suguru said, waving his hand. “You have a reputation. I don’t need you reminding the public of it so soon before the announcement! So no more fooling around. With anyone.”

Satoru felt any drop of joy he had from remembering about defiling Jogo’s ex and next disappearing. Of course, he had to be reminded of his obligations. 

When he and Suguru had been young and dumb and had signed the first contract that allowed them to break their boy band contracts and do what they wanted to do then – debut Satoru as a solo singer and Suguru as his manager. They had thought they were older and wiser – but apparently, they weren’t mature enough to think ahead to what a ten year representation contract might mean. No matter where you wanted to take your career – Satoru opening a performing arts school where he was one of the main instructors, and Suguru opening his own management studio – you couldn’t. 

But – they’d finally managed to negotiate something. The absolute last thing that Satoru wanted to do. But what choice did he have? He had to free both himself and Suguru. And besides. He’d ignore it for as long as could, until the day he couldn’t, whatever day the higher ups decided was the day of the life-altering announcement.

He pouted, trying to remove all thoughts of the horrible thing from his mind and focus on the matter at hand. 

And, as predicted, Suguru weakened. He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine. If you finish writing the apology and get it to me by the time the party ends, you can come. No performing though, too late to change our mind. And please. I’m begging you – no scandals! The only ‘sweet’ thing your lips better be on is a frosting covered fork.” Suguru said, sounding like a tired father and a stern teacher at once.

Satoru cheered, jumping up and down while Suguru rolled his eyes and said something mean about his monkey-like-behavior. 

“I’ll shove a banana up your ass,” Satoru said, ceasing to a slow stop, but still smiling. “If you call me a monkey one more time.”

“All I said is that your fans shouldn’t go to the zoo if they’ve been to your concerts anyway,” Suguru said, smirking. 

Satoru flipped him off as he left Suguru’s office to head home. 

His media trained ass was going to have to pull out all the stops for this apology. Yippee , he thought bitterly. 

Near the end of this hard, hard work, while editing his apology statement to fit the character requirement for Twitter – Suguru required him to construct the apology in several different mediums, from a tell-all Youtube apology script to a buzzy headline for the publishing company they’d sell the letter – he thought of his canceled performance.

He’d actually been looking forward to it, but that was more so because he missed having an audience. His world tour had ended a few months ago, and he and his ego missed the crowds yelling his name, sold out stadiums full of people begging for him to meet their eyes just even once. 

“Who’re they gonna get as cool as me,” he remarked to himself irately, blowing a strand of his silver hair out of his eyes. The competitive feelings that suddenly filled his body fueled him to finish his apology assignment in the nick of time, wrapping up medium after medium. He’d now get there just after his probably-shitty-and-ugly-replacement started their performance. 

The sounds of a familiar bouncy bassline fills the halls of Todo’s very excessively decorated penthouse. Animal print shag rugs, tacky gold statues of dogs in suits, and shiny glittering chandeliers, to name a few characteristics that leave Satoru’s more fine tastes wanting more decorum. Courtesy of his upbringing as the heir to an old-money family whose bloodline was as old as Japan itself. 

It was his newest single, the one that was topping charts. Except, instead of his deep, raspy voice, rang a sweet, sultry one. 

“ You don’t love me / you just steal my clothes / live in my house ‘cause I can’t say no, ” the voice sang, having apparently reached the catchy chorus. 

And when he finally reached Todo’s rooftop terrace – where the performance was taking place on a circular neon blue stage with Tokyo’s skyline as a backdrop – he finally saw the voice of the absolute siren singing his song.

You. 

“ When we fuck, shit it feels like love / feels like love, and it’s so messed up ,” you said, swaying to the beat with your eyes closed as you sang the song with a softer, more sorrowfilled intonation than Satoru had felt comfortable voicing. Your eyelashes fluttered as you opened your eyes, and it was almost like your gaze and Satoru’s were paired like magnet poles, meeting the second your beautiful lens revealed themselves. 

Satoru’s heart stuttered to a stop for one fateful second. And he reeled it back into beating, because never in his life had Satoru ever struggled to breathe when meeting someone new. Especially not a girl who stole his song. 

You weren’t expecting your idol to treat you so frostily. The entire night had been a whirlwind of events that felt as if they’d been written straight out of your dreams – compliments upon compliments, someone had even ordered you a bouquet, recording deals with both big and indie studios – except for how Satoru Gojo was looking at you. 

And that was if he did! He didn’t even look at you when Yuji – who had loved your performance for his surprise birthday bash – introduced the two of you. 

“Great choice,” Satoru had said, staring at a spot above your head. Being so damn tall, he looked down on you, but didn’t even meet your gaze from his ‘honored’ height. 

“T-thanks,” you had said, too nervous to say anything more. He was feeling some imperceptible emotion that led him to ignore you for the rest of the conversation that you, Yuji, and he were in; you were basically just a spectator. And Yuji, bless his ignorant bright eyes, didn’t see how talking about last year’s Met gala bathroom antics would leave you – the least famous person in this room – out of the conversation. 

It wasn’t till a handsome man with waist length raven hair inserted himself into the conversation that you were acknowledged. 

You thankfully held back a starstruck gaze when you met eyes with your teenage crush, Suguru Geto. Of course, you were no longer the girl you had been when the boy band’s bass player with feline eyes had charmed you – mostly because you refused to be like every other girl who favored the leading singer Satoru – but it took real strength to hide that past.

“And who’s this beauty?” Suguru questioned, meeting your eyes with a sparkle in his eyes. You flushed immediately. 

To your surprise, Satoru answered with your name, shocking you with the way your name fit on his tongue. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Suguru said. “So you were the siren singing Satoru’s song.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Satoru blurted. 

Everyone looked at him. You were the first one to twist your head to meet his crystal blue eyes, their icey wide depths freezing you to your spot. It was an entirely different feeling to meeting Suguru’s warm, dark eyes.

“No, you didn’t,” Yuji said slowly, thick eyebrows furrowing. 

“I thought it,” Satoru said, crossing his arms. 

You ignored his response, and tried your best to gracefully thank Suguru.

“I was your biggest fan,” you gushed, unable to finish your gratitude without singing a song to your youthful infatuation. 

“Were you?” Suguru said. “I guess you’ve come full circle. I’m your biggest fan now.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, Satoru impatiently tapped his foot. 

“Listen,” Suguru said, reaching in behind his blazer, and coming out with a thick, cream colored card. He passed it to you. “Keep it on the low, but I’m starting my own studio. And I want to sign you.”

You gasped. All the blood in your body traveled either to your cheeks or to your head. You were shocked beyond measure.

“Really?”

“Really, really.” 

“Thank you so much,” you said, clasping your hands together while your face uncontrollably contorted into one signaling exceptional gratitude.

“I’ll train her personally,” Satoru suddenly said, just as Suguru’s mouth opened. His manager gave Satoru a look as he made a face, something between confusion and disbelief.

“Just like me!” Yuji said excitedly, before anyone could object. 

“Um, are you sure, sir? Are you not, well, busy?” You wished to ask if he even liked you in the first place, for he hadn’t made any indication of enjoying your presence. But this was the more socially acceptable way of asking.

“Not nearly enough to resist instructing the next generation!” He said, in a familiar cheery voice you were used to hearing on talk show interviews and conventions. 

Well … You decided to forget about his earlier treatment of you, hoping it was a fluke. After all, this was Satoru Gojo. Biggest star to grace the stage since rock artist Yoshinobu Gakuganji, the worldwide phenomenon of the generation before. You would be a fool to turn down his mentorship. 

And so, you shot him your brightest smile. You had high hopes, and you hoped that this was the beginning of the rest of your dream life.

Satoru was blinded by your beauty. He had done his best to resent you, his replacement, the new talent. Especially after he had heard you singing his song better than he could have ever dreamed. But, he knew that the harder he tried to force his hate, instead, the harder something else would grow.

Namely, his cock. 

Even though he had promised Suguru no scandals, that the only thing that would be in his mouth today was cake – he couldn’t help but want some other sweet cake to devour. Yours.

He couldn’t help it. Anyone he deemed on his level – usually after some more dramatic reaction, which in this case happened to be an immature resentment towards you that hardly lasted even a few minutes – he wanted to nurture, to own, even. 

It of course took Suguru’s entrance and observation for his initial frostiness to dissolve. 

“And who’s this beauty?” Suguru asked, reminding Satoru that not only had you sung his song the way it should’ve been recorded all along, you were also gorgeous to boot. All your lines and all your curves drew out a figure he wanted to memorize with his hands. Or maybe his tongue. At least his eyes were lucky enough to try.

So, to his surprise – and apparently yours, too, judging by the way your mouth adorably parted and your eyes widened – he answered with your name. He resisted saying anything more that could – and would – be a giveaway to the new direction his thoughts were going in.

“I’ll train her personally,” Satoru suddenly said later, further surprising himself, and Suguru too, judging by the questionable look his best friend gave him. 

“Um, are you sure, sir? Are you not, well, busy?” 

Sir? Well, fuck him, then.

“Not nearly enough to resist instructing the next generation!” He said, in his favorite voice to use when charming audiences. 

And that’s when you blinded Satoru with a wide smile. Your sweet lips trembled shyly as you met his eyes, and he resisted the urge to lick his lips. He chose to smirk instead, which makes you redirect your gaze to your toes. He made you nervous, huh? What a sweet little thing. How could he have chosen to hate you? You were just what he needed – an innocent, new sparkling talent for him to sharpen and shine. He imagined your rise to stardom, and imagined how everyone would look at his latest, sexiest protegee. How everyone would cheer when he kissed you, when the nation’s favorite man laid his lips on the newest national sweetheart. He didn’t think about the arrangement to come at all. His cock pulsed as blood rushed to his crotch, and he hoped his buttoned blazer hid his staining erection. 

“I’ll have Suguru text you the details,” Satoru said flippantly. “I have my own recording studio at home. We can practice there.” Suguru rolled his eyes, but got to work immediately, whipping his work phone out and texting the number you spelled out since you didn’t have a business card of your own. “I’ll see you then.”

The week that sandwiched your first meeting and your next flew by quickly for Satoru; a Vogue photoshoot followed by recording his surprise appearance as a celebrity judge on a cooking show filled the early half of his week, the latter half consisting of chemistry readings for the pilot of a new drama where his role hadn’t been decided yet, so he had to perform multiple different combinations of the scripts.

By the time your bright and bushy tailed excitement greeted him, though, he was tired. And he guessed it was plainly evident.

“Are you alright?” you asked sweetly. “I could get you a coffee if you’re tired?” 

“Aww, no, I couldn’t have the new talent fetch me a coffee!” He laughed brightly. “I’m already more awake now that you’re here.”

“You’re such a charmer,” you said, rolling your eyes, and crossing your arms, directing Satoru’s attention to the furrow of skin between your breasts deepening. He sucked on the top row of his teeth, imagining digging them into the soft skin there, leaving bruising bite marks on the silky spheres. “Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No, just you,” Satoru said, grinning. He flicked your forehead gently. You giggled. Satoru wished they’d already been recording; he’d have loved to have trapped that delicious little sound into a few seconds long audio clip. What a cute lil alarm noise that could’ve been.

“Sure, sure,” you said, turning away from him, though not before Satoru saw the edges of your flushed cheeks. “Where do we start?” 

Satoru came close behind you, grabbing the hand most on top of your crossed arms. He pressed his palm to the top of your skin, his heart pounding as he did so. He moved your joined grasp to rest on the center of your chest. He smelled your shampoo scent as he leaned down to talk near your ears. The jut of his plush bottom lip brushed against your ear with every low vowel. 

“Breathe,” he instructed. Your chest rose slowly as you sucked in air according to his instructions, and fell with a faster speed as you exhaled. Some of Satoru’s bangs tickled his forehead as your breath rushed out. “Repeat it, but slower exhale. Control it. Then, I want you to hold a note for as long as you can. Whatever one you want.” 

You listened, and did so immediately. “What a good girl,” he told you. Your voice wavered, and he wondered if the beat he felt through your hands from your chest was your heart skipping a beat, or your voice straining to stay steady.

“T-thank you, sir,” you said. Satoru wondered if your words were respectful – or teasing. He was hoping too much, he realized, and he stepped away from you, releasing the heavy tension the moment held, lightening the mood in the room immediately.

“You’ve got a clear voice, and strong lungs,” Satoru said, turning away from you as he adjusted his pants without you noticing. “Impressive.”

“Thank you again!”

He laughed, petting your head with soft pats before he realized he was lifting his hand to do so. He rolled with it. “No need to thank me. Call me Gojo-sensei if you respect me that much,” he said, winking. 

Now you laughed, another sweet, addictive melody for his ears. Your giggle now had a companion in his mind’s radio. “Okay, Gojo-sensei. What’ve you got to teach me? I’ve had enough of your compliments.” 

“Oh, really? Not fond of praise?” Satoru asked, teasing.

You bit your lip. “That’s not what I –” You giggled again, making Satoru grin. “I’m excited to learn, Gojo-sensei.”

Oh, gods be damned. He shouldn’t have asked for it. But he had. Now he had a long list of other things he wanted to beg you for. 

He cleared his throat, wishing it would clear his dirty mind too. He had promised to teach you. So he redirected his efforts, and tried his best to redirect his blood to his brain. Worked somewhat, but the tingling desire between his legs as the two of you spent the rest of the day – and well into the night – talking and singing and writing together. 

Satoru hadn’t been this happy writing music in so long, and even wrote something he was confident was his best work yet throwing ideas with you. Maybe he needed to spend more time as a solo musician before completely redirecting his talents to acting and instructing. No, he’d done enough to establish himself as a singer. He wanted to expand what he was known for, and solidify even more his reputation as the greatest performer of today. 

You were the future. You’ll be a shining star, he thought, one that blinds everyone with your brilliance.

“Thank you,” you said genuinely, turning your head away from him as you packed up for the day. He realized belatedly that he’d accidentally spoken aloud. Gods, he hadn’t complimented someone like that in ages. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

“I thought you were Suguru’s biggest fan,” Satoru said, teasing you, squinting his eyes, unable to help himself from reminding you of your words that still had him jealous. He was used to being the favorite. And even if Suguru was his best friend – he wanted to be your favorite. 

You sighed. “I … I have a confession.” You put down your now packed bag. You looked back into Satoru’s eyes.

“What?” He leaned forward, hovering closer to your face as the two of you sat next to each other on the couch in his office, having moved there long ago. Oh, he was so curious … 

“ You were my favorite,” you blurted. “I just wanted to be – not like other girls.”

Satoru couldn’t help it. First he was shocked. Then, once he realized your logic, he started to laugh. So hard he even brought a few tears to his eyes. You whacked him on his arm. 

“Don’t laugh at me!”

But as you went to bring your arms back beside you, Satoru caught your bunched up fingers in his much larger hand. He squeezed your fist. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Satoru Gojo was your favorite. Him, and nobody else. Oh, he was so glad. 

Your face burned as Satoru reminded you of your little white lie. That Suguru was your favorite, a lie you’d shared with many others when the topic of their band arose. 

That burn didn’t compare to the one spreading across your cheeks and up your neck from your chest as Satoru laughed.

And that burn didn’t compare to the one roaring in your heart as Satoru squeezed the hand you’d used to hit him jokingly. 

Neither of those hot feelings compared to the burning fire between your legs when Satoru used the hand he was holding to pull your face close to him. His left leg pressed against your outer thigh, sending another flash of heat to your core even at the slight contact. 

His breath ghosted over your lips, and your eyes met. The hungry look in his pale gaze conveyed the message. You’d have to be the one to bite the bullet he’d loaded. And so, heart straining from the combined joy of your past and current Satoru Gojo obsessed self wanting this moment to never end, you kissed him.

Instantly, Satoru transformed. From the first gentle contact of your lips, he was a perfect gentleman for all of three seconds, trapping your bottom lip between his. But once he began sucking, he couldn’t stop devouring you like a man without any decorum. He inhaled you as he kissed you, bringing you close to his body, tangling his arms around your back as he sank into the couch and you fell down with him. You twisted your body to lay more comfortably against his, realizing too late that that would mean unimpeded contact between your cunt and his cock through your clothing. 

The two of you gasped at the combined warmth, which made your teeth clink against each other. 

“You want me that bad?” you asked, shocked by the sheer size of his wanting. The absolute hardness that pushed against you, almost sending you to a mental institution by how his cockhead just about pressed against the crotch of your jeans to catch your clit temporarily when he shifted. You moaned as if to punctuate your observation.

“Ah,” Satoru breathed, his hands flying to cup the round curves of your hip. Your top had ridden up, and so his palms were touching bare skin. He squeezed, electrifying your sensation of his touch as he pawed at your softness. “I think you want me just as bad, baby.”

He slid his hands up from from hips to your waist to your chest, groping them like they were clay he wanted to mold to the shape of his grasp. He palmed them once more before lifting your shirt and ridding you of it. 

Your breasts wobbled when they were subsequently freed from the confines of your bra, and you watched Satoru lick his lips hungrily. 

“But don’t worry, baby,” Satoru said silkily. “I’ll take real good care of you.” He kissed you sweetly to prove his point.

Then immediately dirtied his mouth when he took a mouthful of tits to his teeth, biting down gentle enough to not hurt but hard enough to make you moan. You stretched your neck out, throwing your head back. 

“You made me so hard,” Satoru said, breathing heavily as he removed his mouth from your right breast, a string of spit connecting the two. It popped when he got far enough. “How do you plan on fixing that, hmm?”

You whimpered when he reached his hand down to feel your cunt through your jeans. Your clit pulsed, and you knew Satoru could feel it like a heartbeat. He wasted no time in ridding you of your pants, and you lifted your hips to help with the removal of your panties right after. 

“Oh, ‘Toru!” you cried out. Satoru had immediately started to explore your secret spot, parting your folds and using his fingers to collect some of your slick. He sucked it off his hands, and you got wetter, something you thought was impossible judging by the shine you had seen gathered on his thick fingers.

You trembled with desire. “Satoru. I want it. Please!” You found yourself begging.

“I’m not quite sure what you want, sweet,” Satoru said in a sing-song voice. 

Whatever restraint might’ve been keeping your mouth clean snapped. “Please, give it to me now. I want your cock inside me, now. Please!” You were near sobbing, especially as Satoru continued to play with your cunt by pressing against your clit in a rhythmic manner. 

“Bad girls don’t get to tell me where my cock goes,” Satoru scolded, slapping your bare pussy. You let out a wild cry. 

“Satoru, please,” you whined, pressing yourself into him even more. He flipped the two of you to create some space between your crotch and his. He threw your bare legs over his shoulders after ridding himself of his pants. He didn’t even return his fingers to your cunt, which made you sick with nostalgia for the mere seconds earlier when he was playing with you so deliciously. 

“Oh, darling, I know you want it. And you should know, I really want to just put it in right now – god, I do – but you have to wait…”

You closed your eyes, tilting your head back against the cushions.

“Aren’t you going to ask why you’re a bad girl?” 

“Why am I one?” you asked, giving in, opening your eyes. You saw Satoru’s bright, mischievous gaze, sparkling with delight as you responded just the way he wanted.

“ Sir.” 

“Why am I a bad girl,” you said, gulping, “ sir – Satoru?” 

“Aww, because you didn’t ask me what I want,” he said, cooing. 

You pleaded to him, begging to know what he might want to do with you. Anything would do – the burning between your legs was an uncontrollable wildfire, and there was only Satoru who could put it out. 

“I want the same thing, silly,” Satoru said, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. “Was just’ teasin’ you, yeah.” You shivered as his silver strands tickled the sensitive skin there. You yelped when he nipped at a spot there, before immediately cooling it down with his tongue tracing over it, leaving the tingling spot cool and wet. 

But there were other wet tingling spots for Satoru to pay attention to. 

He began fingering you in earnest, the motions of his fingers making squelching noises fill the room of his office. How lewd! You almost had forgotten where he was making you this weak. But who needs the bedroom?

“You’re so sexy,” Satoru murmured, crooking his fingers just so. “Makes me want to ruin you.”

“Ahh, Satoru!” you screamed. “Please, please, do whatever you want. I just wanna – ugh!” You were babbling nonsense as something built inside of you, like blocks laid atop each other to form a steep tower.

“So sexy, screaming for me. Trembling for me like this,” he said, using his other hand to press against your bare stomach to feel your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling of it all. 

Something was building inside of you, yes. And it was about to topple and break in just a bit, judging by just how hard your legs were shaking atop his shoulders, the skin of your thighs sticking and unsticking against Satoru’s sweaty chest. 

“Look so pretty coming apart on my fingers,” Satoru cooed, looking down at you with hazy, lidded eyes. His bright blue eyes were darker than usual by the dilation of his pupils, and honestly, the absolute adoration in his genuine gaze – of course, combined with his fingers – sent you over the edge. 

You couldn’t even say a word as the strongest orgasm you’d ever felt knocked the wind out of you. You shook and you shook and you shook with waves of pleasure. It was pure euphoria. 

If that was just from his fingers, then … 

Satoru seemed to have the same question. “What’re you gonna do when it’s my cock instead, pretty baby?”

Like a broken record, you couldn’t help but beg again once you regained your breath control and the shaking had subsided. 

“I’m gonna kiss you real hard,” you said, looking at his bitten red lips, shining with your combined saliva. Oh, god. It was hitting you, really, that you had done that. You were the one kissing Satoru Gojo. You were the one finger fucked by Satoru Gojo. And now – 

Satoru took off his jeans, then his boxers. Whatever train of thought you had crashed and burned as you dropped your jaw. Of course the most beautiful man in the world would have an equally beautiful cock, thick and arched, precum coating the pink tip like frosting begging you to take a lick. 

“So,” Satoru said, his voice getting a little more serious. “You still want this? If you say no, we can pretend this never –”

You arched up to kiss him square on the mouth. Hell to the no – why would you deny yourself heaven? Parting, chest heaving, you trailed a finger down his muscled abdomen and then down his pale happy trail, stopping right as your finger approached his fat tip. 

“Fuck me, Satoru,” you said, earnestly. 

Satoru kissed you gently before aligning himself with your vagina. He slotted it at your folds, and then just like that, his tip was slightly inside you, easily gliding in with how wet you were. He shook a little, and inhaled in a deep breath. Every little movement of his hips, no matter how intentional it might’ve been, rubbed at your skin down there. You can tell Satoru was doing his best to hold back, doing his best to stop from savagely thrusting into you and splitting you open with his monster of a cock. 

But you want him to. You couldn’t take it anymore. You tilted your hips, and again, because of just how wet you were, he slid in halfway quite easily. He whispered your name, his voice breaking roughly at the end. 

You stared up at the expression of ecstasy on Satoru’s face. His eyelids drooped. His shiny spit slick mouth parted. 

“You’re inside me,” you said slowly, bringing your hand to cover your face. Satoru moved it away, and instead kissed you, the movement pushing his thickness further into you. You groaned as your walls strained to accommodate him. “Fucking me.”

“N-not yet,” Satoru said, voice hoarse. He pushed all the way into your tightness. You screamed, he groaned. “And not even now.”

“It’s enough, it’s enough,” you said, eyes starting to water. “I’m going crazy.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathed, when you clenched tight around him. “I’m makin’ you crazier. Now.” He lifted himself out of you, and thrust back into you with a thwop. 

Slowly, after that first thrust, his actions became faster and smoother. Satoru showed you no patience, no gentleness, no matter how much he had wanted to and had been planning on it. He fucked you roughly, like you were two animals rutting. You called out his name again and again, no plans of stopping even as your voice grew rough with use. 

Just as you were about to cum – your walls were fluttering around Satoru as if to signal – Satoru pulled out of you and came on your stomach, flinching as warm stickiness pooled and dribbled down your waist. 

That was the first time you fucked Satoru Gojo. And that was not the last. 

Moving forward, the two of you were insatiable. The weeks leading up to your album release party was filled with debauchery. 

You blew Satoru in the recording studio Suguru rented to record the tracks; Satoru was supposed to supervise. But of course he’d rather cum on your chest. So, supervising soon turned into lewd moans and sticky thrusts that the impressive sound system captured. Satoru was careful to delete the footage – and of course, who would know he’d saved a singular copy on a flash drive just for him to listen to – just you, and you didn’t mind. 

And even after the album release party – at the after party held in the most packed club in Tokyo – the two of you couldn’t hold back. When everyone had gone to the dance floor, and just you and Satoru remained in the closed off lounge area, he pulled you into his lap and slid his cock into you, crumpling your short mini skirt to your hips and pushing aside your thin thong. Being aware anyone could come back any second, Satoru fucked you while he covered your intimate connection with his leather jacket draped over your thighs and dragging on your sweaty skin. When the two of you heard voices coming closer, once even hearing Suguru’s drunk laughter come too close for comfort, the two of you stilled under the jacket. Even in that moment of cessation, you could still feel Satoru’s cock inside you, so hot and pulsing. Satoru’s gasping breath was a treat for your hearing, and his swirling hips underneath you were a treat for your cunt. Thankfully, when Satoru and you came, the music in the club was loud as it had been since the start of the night, even louder if possible at the peak of the night, and so the two of you could groan in earnest. Plus, when the two of you got home that night, there was no stopping Satoru from taking you in every which way he desired. It was crazy how no matter what you two did, he was never tired of you. Never! 

Until one random day, a Tuesday you didn’t think was anything remarkable except for the fact that Satoru hadn’t wished you a good morning like he usually did. You were walking down a busy street in Shibuya, in dark clothes, with a mask and sunglasses hiding your face now that you were an up-coming celebrity. Then you overheard the gossip that would irreversibly change the course of your life.

Did you hear? Satoru Gojo is going to be marrying a descendant of the royal Japanese family, Princess Utahime Iori. What a fairytale!

You stopped in your tracks. 

Like a crazy person, you reached for the person who said that, frantically grabbing onto their shoulder. Believably freaked out, they flinched away. 

“S-sorry. I’m just, so, so shocked by what I accidentally overheard,” you said, trying to appear normal. “What did you say?”

“Oh,” said the stranger girl, feeling more amicable now that you’d explained yourself. “You know that famous singer-actor-everything? Satoru Gojo? He’s getting married to royalty! I mean, he basically is, too–”

“Is this for real?” You weren’t sure if this was as false as the rumor that Satoru had a foot fetish. He had a variety of kinks, but not that one. 

“Uh-huh!” said the girl’s other friend. “They just did a press release! Satoru’s quitting the performing industry to be a family man, and Suguru’s officially opening his own studio! They even signed that new singer that’s blowing up right now,” she said. Hearing your name didn’t shock you, compared to how this news felt like. Like a bucket of ice water, like a brick to the face, like something violently wrenching you out of your head and straight to reality. 

“Thanks for telling me,” you said, gulping back tears. You turned away from them, and immediately hailed a cab. At first, you intended to go home and cry your heart out. But quickly, you knew that you had to talk to Satoru first. 

The entire drive, you sat tensely, your stomach in knots. What could Satoru possibly say? There was a fucking press release, apparently. What explanation was there? You hoped he had one. You weren’t sure you would react rationally otherwise. 

The knot in your stomach tightened further when you saw how many cars were parked around Satoru’s place. Getting in without attracting attention would be difficult, but thankfully, you guys had been fooling around enough for you to know exactly how to do so. 

Before you knew it, you were in Satoru’s bedroom (sans the mask and sunglasses, which you’d put away in your purse). Sitting in the dark, like, again, a crazy person. This man was making you go crazy! You called him, and when you went to voicemail, you sent him a text asking him to come up to his room, praying that he’d see it. Anymore stress and you’d start sprouting gray hairs.

His door creaked open, and the lights came on in a flash. 

“Woah!” Satoru said, jumping back. He quickly entered the room again, closing the door shut behind him. “When’d you get here?”

“I texted you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “What’s going on?”

Satoru looked at you with an indecipherable expression. He loudly sucked on the top row of his teeth. Then, he spoke. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“I didn’t ask what’s wrong, I asked, what’s going on,” you said, crossing your arms. “I heard something about a press release.” Your tone was flat. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said, giving you a tight smile. “So you heard.”

You didn’t say anything. You wanted him to do the talking.

“It’s no big deal, really,” Satoru said. “It’s an arranged marriage, so we can keep seeing each other–”

“Wait,” you said, flabbergasted. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Why wouldn’t I be? We – hold on. You cryin’?”

You didn’t realize that tears had pooled in your eyes and were now streaming down your face. 

“Sweetheart,” Satoru said, in a voice entirely unfamiliar to you. Everything about the man in front of you now was unfamiliar to you, actually. “We were never official. So, I don’t understand –” You slapped him across his face, as hard as you could. Before you knew it, you were punching his chest while you crumbled into sobs, not even speaking a real language besides wails and cries. Surprisingly, he let you hurt him. 

Eventually, though, you stopped. You were utterly deflated. You felt like a fool. But you had to know, right? That it was going to end this way. Suddenly, your mind flashed back to the innocent days of being a fan and seeing headlines in gossip magazines – and the occasional think piece – about all the notches on Satoru’s belt. 

“You’re right,” you said, flashing him the same tight smile he’d given you earlier. You closed your eyes, purposefully missing his reaction. No matter what he had done, you still didn’t want to see him hurt – or worse, not hurt at all.  “We were never official. So let’s end whatever this is.” You took a deep breath, and once you felt steady in your stance, you opened your eyes. 

Again, that indecipherable expression. 

But, when he spoke, you quickly realized what it might signify.

“Alright. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you at the wedding, then,” he said. 

It signified this: he didn’t care. At all. This meant nothing to him, compared to what it meant to you.

Your heart crumbled as much as you had earlier.

All along, he didn’t care…

“Goodbye, Satoru. I’ll see you around. Let me know what you want for your wedding present.” You wouldn’t be a crazy person any longer. You pulled your sunglasses and mask out of your bag, and walked out of Satoru’s room. And, effectively, Satoru’s life.

In the cab ride home, you had one thought and one thought only: I wish we’d never met. What a grand, impossible wish. Almost as impossible as having had this relationship with your celebrity crush, you reminded yourself. This was fated to never be. You should start to accept it, and focus on your career. 

Afterall, you thought, strengthening your resolve. What better way to show Satoru that you didn’t care – than to flourish without him in your life. Suddenly, you remembered your original dream. Stage lights and sold out shows. Not a silver-haired blue-eyed cocky motherfucker who knew just how your body ticked. 

You wish you’d never met him, but it was better that you had. Because now you could show him – no, scratch that – show the world just how committed to your dreams you were. Just as Satoru had said oh-so-long-ago, you were the future . Satoru was old news. 

Just like he’d said, huh. 

You’d be a shining star, one that blinds everyone with your brilliance. 

For your sake, you had to be. 

i hope you enjoyed! this is also on ao3. and i have a hella long author's note on there. lol. header is from kukkoro knight (manga). xoxo penelope

[the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see]

all my ttpd notes on each song before public opinion (overall opinion of the album at the end)

i didnt include tracks 1-6 bc ive posted about them already, but ill add them slowly by eod tomorrow most likely

fresh out the slammer

this is the track i was most excited for i think

oh title drop very early

fresh. out. the slammer. uhhh

i love the flow on all of the songs but i especially like this, its very fluid

FOR JUST ONE HOUR OF SUNSHINE!!!

in the shade of how he was feeling

the flow is very midnight rain i think

OOOH THE CHANGE AT 2:25 I LOVE THISSSSS

"im the girl of his american dreams" OMGGGG

i like the second half way better but the song is awesome

i think what im noticing about the album overall (so far) is it feels very empty production wise. its mostly her voice carrying it through but its hollow and i really think we need a more full production on this, or at least some parts of it. it feels uneven yk? or sort of unfinished, like she had the vocals and just slapped something behind it

florida!!!

VERY VERY EXCITED FOR THIS FLORENCE!!!!!!

and my friends all smell like weed or little babies.... ok.

okkkk less than a minute in and this is sooo anti-capitalist for a billionaire

FLORENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was so scared she'd be swept aside

"all my girls got their lace and their crimes"

so many mentions of a cheating husband on this album

"is that a bad thing to say in a song?" I LOOOOOVE MENTIONS OF THE MEDIA IN THAT MEDIA

FLORIDAAAA!! IS ONE HELL OF A DRuug..........

you can kind of here the thinness (??) of taylor's voice next to florence, the depth is lacking -- not necessarily bad, just something you can hear more with this track

some parts of it ("little did you know...") sound sort of like everybody wants to rule the world, idk if thats just me

guilty as sin

love the production this is so niceee

am i allowed to cry!

"oh what a way to dieeeee"

MESSY TOP LIP KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

without ever touching his skin, how can i be guilty as sin............ is this about matty healy please

the quiet distorted "what?" in the bg is very bejeweled

my bedsheets are ablaze

the melody on this is lowkey kind of boring. theres points where i expect her to do something interesting with her voice and flick up or drop low or trill and it just doesnt happen. would be very cool if that was there

"long suffering propriety" that whole bridge is written well but sung so clunky? like it doesnt sound natural it sounds like syllable filler yk? and i know this bc i do it way too much KSJDCHIUHRFIUH

ending with am i allowed to cry, its very much an internal song. idk how to explain it but shes looking in, and when she says am i allowed to cry, shes looking up. <- what???

whos afraid of little old me?

ooooh it starts out so cunty

"my bare hands paved their paths"

you dont get to tell me about sad!

I LOVE THISSS its so mad woman its so rep coded

"i leap from the gallows and i levitate down your street" GREAT LYRIC HILARIOUS VISUAL ITS LIKE THAT HALLWAY MEME BUT WITH TAYLOR. hold on

okay

WHOS AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you should be <- ME TO MY MOM

production goes off cunty as fuck

"the scandal was contained" OMGG TELL ME TELL ME

you dont get to tell me you feel bad variant

BRIDGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i think this is my favorite track i love it

"the circus life made me mean" ooooh very very interesting. i will analyze this song more fully later but not on this post

"tell me everything is not about me, what if it is?" OKAYYYYY

the way she sings "you should be" reminds of something on folklore/evermore but i cant think of what

shes very cool on this song. the emotion actually comes through.

"you wouldnt last an hour in the asylum where they raised me." oh okay! so like. have we considered not saying that.

i think that line turned me off the whole song KJSDCIUERFHIUEFH LIKE???? HELLO???????

i just. hm. very disappointed. you have one billion dollars. your parents put down the deposit for your career. ok.

the way she sings "wretched" and "narcotics" is what i wanted for more of the album. ykwim.

i will admit her screaming the title is veeeery very nice

"i am what i am cause you trained me" okkkk. im sorry taylor my bad!

idk how i feel about this song anymore. should i just ignore the lyrics and listen lmaoo

i can fix him (no i really i can)

okay i was waiting on this song but with the context of the rest of the album. idk. we'll see

okay IMMEDIATE ick.......... "the smoke cloud billows out his mouth like a freight train through a small town" okay taylor i guess rhymezone was in for her. idkkkkk

okay next line came in actually i spoke too soon it serves !!

this is very cowboy like me inverse

ughhh title drop already. see i wanted it cunty!!! why title it that when its so nothing. this is SO NOTHING

is this about matty healy. girl hes a neonazi you cant fix him

BRIDGE?????? i love when she shows off her kinks

okay. yeah this song was very nothing.

loml

the piano is very gentle on this and muted. i like it

is this aaron dessner? hold on lemme check

yes it is!!!

"never before and never since" looooove <3 <3 <3

"still alive, killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried in your suit and tie" LOOOOOOVE <3 <3 <3

this is very her relationship with religion methinks....

"about a million times" ala illicit affairs "a million little times"

"when your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fakes" i think this is my favorite lyricism out of the album, its very natural its very clear its very real. i really really like it

A CONMAN SELLS A FOOL A GET LOVE QUICK SCHEME. GAGGED

some of it is very grieving that she didnt last with her first love, that she still has to work for it. but its also still feeling like a metaphor for religious beliefs and god, that she cant fully believe and she wishes she had unwavering faith

MR STEAL YO GIRL????????????

"talking rings and talking cradles"

i wish i could unrecall how we almost had it all

"SOMETHING COUNTERFEIT'S DEAD" GLITCH I ALWAYS BELIEVED IN YOU (lie)

"ill never leave. never mind"

the way this extends is very phoebe bridgers and the way she enunciates "loss of my life" is very her as well

okay donesies. i liked this one a lot.

i can do it with a broken heart

i like the glimmery production

lyrics again are flopping a little :/

"im a real tough kid, i can handle my shit" 😸 okay

GOTTA FAKE IT TIL I MAKE IT TIL I DID !!!

the lyrics are so over and so back so much its killing me. i cringe so hard i cry and then i gag just as hard

lights camera bitch smile even when i wanna die......................

"ALL THE PIECES OF ME SHATTERED WHILE THE CROWD WAS SCREAMING MORE" im so. im sooo sos so so feeling aout this.

whos counting in the background idk how i feel about it

"im so depressed i act like its my birthday everyday" ughhhhh!!! cunty but she didnt sing it right yk. idk.

production slays

"im so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague" we're back again. i told yall its over and back and over and back SOOOOOO MUCH

okay i think i like it

I CRY A LOT BUT I AM SO PRODUCTIVE! SOOOOOOOOOOOO ME

i wanted the whole album to be like that verse

im a real tough kid again :/ shhhh

"in stilettos for miles" eras im so so sorry girl

IM SO DEPRESSED I ACT LIKE ITS MY BIRTHDAY EVERY DAY IM SO OBSESSED WITH HIM BUT HE AVOIDS ME LIKE THE PLAGUE I CRY A LOT BUT I AM SO PRODUCTIVE ITS AN ART YOU KNOW YOURE GOOD WHEN YOU CAN EVEN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART! ! !

when she does "you know youre good!" and the laughing and everything ohhhh my god. IM SO MISERABLE! AND NO ONE KNOWS! dont try and come for my job OKAYYYYYYY SHE SERVED ON THIS

okay i think i really like this song. i just need a couple days lol

the smallest man who ever lived

veryyyyy excited for this. i think. a little.

"who the fuck was that guy" OKAYY!!!!!!!!

theres no lyric i was to write here but its all very good btw

she sounds like my english teacher vocally and its killing me KSJDCIUERHFIUERH

"in public showed me off then sank in stoned oblivion"

i cant figure out what shes saying "once your queen had come, you treat her like an ulcer and"??? alseran?? i cant understand it skdjfhieurhiuerg

you didnt measure up in any measure of a man !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! taylor date girls <3

the production is building here i like it is she gonna belt/scream

YEAHHHH BELTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"were you a sleeper cell spy in 50 years will all this be declassified and youll confess why you did it and ill say good riddance cause it wasnt sex [something something] and it wasnt forbidden" I REAAAAALLY LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i like when she makes up situations and puts herself in them

YOU CRASHED MY PARTY AND YOUR RENTAL CAR

you kicked out the stage lights but youre still performing.

"you are what you did" versus innocent's "who you are is not where you've been"

i like this track

the alchemy

I WAS SUPER EXCITED FOR THIS BUT NOW IDK HOW TO FEEL!!! idk im just jumping in

oh r&b production?? interesting....

ooh whats the rumbling thing i like that

shes returning to something but what...

TOUCHDOWN IS THIS KILLATRAV !!!!!!!!!!!!!! KILLATRAV KILLATRAV !!!!!!!!!!!

oh title drop but i wasnt listening KJSHCIUHEGFH

reference to maathp

is this returning to american boys KJIUFHEORUFHOERF???

oh this is sooooo referencing maathp

okay but it sounds like this person and her were already together and now theyre back "his heart....is still reserved for me" or maybe thats just trav holding on the friendship bracelet

i hate to say this but "wheres the trophy? he just comes running over to me" is very call it what you want + sweet nothing and another song i cant remember right now but yall know...... im sorry

im stupid as hell i cant hear what the line is where she says the alchemy

"he jokes that its heroine but this time with an e" THIS TIME??????

very much like this song. def not what i was expecting and im disappointed in that regard but its still a fun song

clara bow

nervous for this song. i like when she references people and places but theres a way to do it so i get scared every time

oooh ear ringing noise is very fun. i hope its not the whole time though

immediate title drop

oh so its not her? shes talking to someone else i think

oh this is in her past i think

lyrics are flopping.

"breath of fresh air through the smoke rings" like i can fix him (no really i can"

ohhh tambourine WAS stevie nicks reference

SORRY i dont like how she says eclipse lmaoo

i kind of dont vibe with all the small town references its as if she needs to remind us where she came from to be considered good like look how much i did when i came from nothing (even though she didnt)

YOU LOOK LIKE TAYLOR SWIFT IN THIS LIGHT !!!!

youve got edge, she never did girlllllllllll

so does she consider herself the "replacement" for clara bow?

song is okay i think it might grow on me. i think the biggest disappointment on this album is how predictable it all feels sonically.

the black dog

bonus track!! this is the only one i have so i might add the others later but tbh i might wait bc i dont know how much i. care.

muted pianooooo i love muted piano<333

YOU SHARED YOUR LOCATION AND FORGOT TO TURN IT OFF

oh the black dog is a bar. im kind of. okay. okay

"shes too young to know this song" is a nice line but its clunky how its sung

old habits die screaming!

girl your longing does NAWT stay unspoken

folklore when she used "big" words it felt natural (for the most part). here it feels performative? like it doesnt FIT naturally

"was it hazing for a cruel fraternity i pledged" idk how to feel about this!

lots and lots of smoke references!

"six weeks of breathing clean air" -> CLEAN!!!!!!!!!!

two times she says she wants to burn her clothes on this album

i like the production im literally kind of ignoring the lyrics

omg never mind "tail between your legs youre leaving"

personal ick but i hate when songs cut off in a word. she goes "old habits die screeeeeam-" and nothing. JUST SAY THE -ING

okay cool. mid song but i hope the swifties who thought it was about depression and got the variant are feeling okay<33

overall: idk about this album. i went in really excited and so maybe thats why i feel so let down... but i feel so let down. this isnt what was marketed, this isnt anything even real for a lot of it. she's all over the place and i dont think its a tight and solid album -- although monetarily it will obviously look like one. there are moments where we get something very her and very real and i think those moments save the album. the production is also a little all over the place, and so very nothing. im not asking her to do anything fresh or new but why would you market it as if it was and not deliver?

i liked florida!!!, loml, and i can do it with a broken heart -- i think clara bow, the alchemy, and some others (you can tell with my notes LOL) will grow on me. and the tortured poets department and my boy only breaks his favorite toys were good songs, but i think i need a few days to actually acknowledge them as such.

also i think lyrically shes done a few very interesting things. it almost feels like debut with how specific it is and the name dropping and everything -- however it is new/rusty for her so that also kind of hurts her overall. i think maybe this is like good practice for a more evolved narrative lyricism in the future, bc her past mo of hazy visuals and thinly connected moments to string into a narrative just doesnt work anymore.

i will say. she did make me experience all 5 stages of grief plus some fun extras. maybe not in the way she wanted, but i did anyway ! its a fun album and i def think ill like it more as time goes on, but this is my opinion without outside influence and within the first day of listening -- i want to see how that changes! im also holding off on album rankings until a week or two passes

[formosusiniquis]

Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Eddie Munson is a music snob.

Sure, he listens to more music than Steve even knew existed. Sure, he can curate a playlist that gets you from Korn to Disney without it feeling jarring. Sure, he can give you a full college quality lecture on the history of modern rock and metal and how it can all be traced back to the blues.

But he’s also the same guy who brutally eviscerates anything that even approaches popularity. He’s watched Eddie drop bands the second their music starts making radio play because it’s a short trip to an album that’s been engineered in a lab for maximum radio play.

An educated music snob is still a snob is the point.

But the rest of their friend group is also a collection of snobs and bitches, so when Eddie suggested they do a Spotify Wrapped viewing party it quickly became an annual tradition. They all make sure they have the night off when the Wrapped drops, meeting up at Steve’s house where they spend the night stuffing their faces and roasting each other for the music that made up their soundtrack to the year.

Eddie the Snobbish is of course the most vocal critic.

“Girl in Red, Buckley, really? There is such a thing as leaning too far into the stereotype.”

“Get fucked, Munson, they’re my number five.”

“And your number two is Hayley Kiyoko, but she’s actually good so I kept her out of it. Honestly, it’d be faster to just shout from the rooftops that you’re queer.”

“Yeah, yeah, wait ‘til we get to you, Eddie.”

“I drew 7 so you’ll have to wait a little bit longer.

It goes like that all night. Eddie makes at least one comment about each person’s wrapped as the night goes on. But then everyone takes at least one crack at the others. From listen time to top genres nothing is safe and nothing is sacred. Sometimes the only comment needed is the sounds of nine other people shrieking in laughter because Accidentally in Love from the Shrek 2 soundtrack cracked your top 5.

“Seriously, Sinclair, the rest of it is so good!”

“I refuse to be critiqued by the same man I caught singing Nickelback last week.”

“Damn, seeing the family resemblance between you and Lady Applejack now.”

Sometimes his mockery is flavored like concern.

“William, the top .05% of Mitski listeners? Do you need help? Should we call your mom? This feels like a cry for help.”

“She’s classically trained, musically a genius. Sorry, we can’t all spend our time listening to Ozzy struggle through a basic melody.”

And Eddie isn’t afraid to get other people in on his snobbery.

“Ten bucks, Stevie, your little Dusty has Weird Al in his top 5.”

“I don’t make bets, I know I’m going to lose. That’d be like saying ‘I bet he’s going to have Neverending Story in his top 5’, it’s practically guaranteed.”

Robin’s not as afraid to get involved, “Five bucks, Neverending Story is his number 1.”

“Oh you’re on, Bucks, no way it’s not a parody.”

They’re both wrong, deciding that neither is out the money, and Steve wishing he had gone ahead and bet when it turns out to be a movie instrumental. “He can’t listen to music with words when he’s building shit, and he’s always tinkering with something in his room.”

“It was from the Neverending Story soundtrack, I still think that means I win.”

“Absolutely not.”

It’s always a big moment when it’s finally Eddie’s turn, he’s the whole reason they had to start drawing their places at random. He spends so much time talking shit about everyone else’s music taste that by the time his turn rolls around half the group is ravenous, a pack of feral dogs snarling at a feast before them,  ready to give him a taste of his own medicine.

The earliest bits are the most boring. The strange emotion tags are always a little jarring, though no one is surprised when spooky makes its way onto Eddie’s. It’s a little concerning just how much time Eddie is clocking on Spotify, “Over 40,000 minutes, Eddie, that’s almost an entire month.”

“How come your math is never that quick when you’re adding up your damage, Henderson?”

And then Spotify helpfully announces that Eddie Munson's most played song of the year is Head Over Heels by Tears for fucking Fears, clocking in at 267 plays. 

It could go without saying that all hell then breaks loose, but then not saying it makes it sound like a regular amount of hell is breaking loose. And not the kind of hell that can only come from a room full of people who show their affection through ruthless teasing and mockery finding a massive hole in the armor of someone who had spent most of their friendship unassailable.

It’s mean. It’s targeted. It’s the standard brand of teasing that this group is built on.

It would be a lot funnier if Eddie, someone who is normally pretty good about taking the same kind of shit that he deals out, didn’t look like he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

The jokes all reach a logical end. The kids have a killer’s instinct when it comes to weakness, but they’re soft where it counts, and there’s not a joke in the world that’s still funny when it’s being laughed at instead of with.

And Steve, normally the first to tease Eddie about his dad rock playlist can’t think of a single thing to say that isn’t going to come out, “Why was your day with the most listens right after the weekend trip we took for my birthday?”

That wasn’t going to be, “Do you want this the way that I do?”

The rest of the reveal is standard, nearly 19 hours of playtime does put Tears for Fears in the 5th spot of Eddie’s Top Artists but no one comments on it. Steve doesn’t even make fun of Eddie for being the only person under 40 to still listen to Metallica.

Because he’s finally found something to say that isn’t going to come out, “Do you know someone else who only listens to new wave or do listen to that song and think about me?”

“I’m going next.” Eddie finally, finally, makes eye contact with him instead of staring out into the middle distance. Maybe his announcement does sound more like, ‘let me say it back.’

“Steve, you drew last. Nancy’s next.”

Nancy, who knows him uniquely. Knows him in a way that no one, except maybe Eddie one day, ever will. Nancy cuts through the bullshit decisively. “Steve can go next.”

“No appreciation for the rules, why do we even have them?”

Steve does not give a single shit about his wrapped outside of it being a source of amusement for his friends. His taste in music is as close to nonexistent as it gets and, really, if he’s going to listen to something he’s probably going to pick a book over music if he’s by himself.

Except this year.

The teasing is a little tamer now. Normally, Steve is happy to take the brunt of it. 

From Eddie picking at his lack of taste. “Pick a genre, Steve, god.” 

To the kids joining in because they want to impress Eddie, “Can you even listen to the playlist without getting whiplash? I Will Survive to Part of Your World, jeez.” Nevermind that they’re both basically power ballads, and Wheeler can mock but I Will Survive was the soundtrack to his break up with Nance and sometimes he wants to be both nostalgic and angry-sad. 

This year is quiet, like they’re worried they went too far with Eddie and now they’re afraid to take shots at their other favorite babysitter.

It’s fine. Steve has pretty much unfailingly had one song playing at any point anymore. Maybe it took him a little longer than April, but he knows without a doubt what his top song of the year is going to be.

Eddie takes the armchair for Wrapped nights, he’s the meanest normally and says he wants to be out of the direct line of fire of any noogies or Robin’s lethal elbows. It means Steve has to reach to kick the side of the chair to make sure Eddie is watching.

Rainbow in the Dark was Steve’s number one song this year with 171 plays.

And maybe it would be appropriate to say that all hell breaks loose once again. Steve wouldn’t really know, too busy staring at Eddie. He’s in the eye of the storm now, while chaos breaks out around him Steve can only wait to see how Eddie reacts.

Wonders if that pink blush is because Eddie realizes that the day he repeated it the most was right after he heard Eddie play it for the first time. Fell asleep to it playing on repeat, thinking about Eddie’s fingers and Eddie’s smile, drowning out the sounds of fireworks that still trigger panic.

"It makes me think of you," Eddie, brave and shy and only hiding part of his face behind his hair, answers the only question Steve needed answered.

"Yeah," he agrees, hoping it sounds less like a breathless demand for reassurance and more like, 'listening to this song all year was the closest I could get to imagining what it could be like having you.'

"Yeah." And Steve hears, 'I  still expect to be wined and dined, Harrington.' Maybe because it's the kind of silly request Eddie would make, or maybe he just likes giving the people he cares about everything he can.

"But seriously, Stevie, why the fuck is Careless Whisper in your top 5? It should be a crime for Dio and George Michael to be that close together."

[skeeverboyreviews]

Skeeverboy's Top 5

Roughly, my top 5 albums of all time, not in any order.

Harmlessness - The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die (2015)

This album makes me feel indescribable emotions. On the surface, it seems a little pretentious, honestly; a band with a ridiculously long, quirky name, an over-the-top artistic album cover, and long experimental tracks with extensive instrumentals give the impression of a band that thinks very highly of themself.

Despite appearances, I think this album is absolutely incredible. Every part of it is a work of art. The song titles, the album cover (I know I insulted it before, but I do like it a lot), the tracks themselves all work together to create an existential sort of nostalgia, an out-of-this-world feeling. The lyrics make you think about life in a way you haven't thought of before, the instrumentals working with the words to create a very consistent vibe.

This album is an experience, 45 minutes of feeling beyond words. There isn't a weak track on this album, but I do have favorites. You Can't Live There Forever is an incredible opener, and the transition into January 10th, 2014 is just beautiful. I Can Be Afraid of Anything is so emotionally moving. Wendover gives me nostalgia for times I never even experienced.

I think January 10th, 2014 is my favorite track on the album. Based on a true story, it follows Diana the Hunter - a woman who murdered bus drivers with reputations for sexually harassing and assaulting women. I love the use of storytelling within this song, especially with the two different vocalists.

If I could change anything about this album, I wouldn't.

I Hate My Friends - The Front Bottoms (2008)

Raw, unfiltered, immature, and desperate, this album is perfect for teenage angst in the form of shout-singing and power chords. It's edgy, it's messy, it's silly, and I can never stop talking about it for the life of me.

Most of the songs revolve around relationships, about dumb teenage decisions and longing. This album reminds me of high school, conjures the image of smoking weed and laughing or getting upset and ranting about nothing of substance. The songs feel like they were rushed when they were written, and I mean that as a compliment. The guitar parts are bare and are sometimes reused between songs, the melodies rather simple, and the lyrics sometimes clunky, but that's what makes it so incredible. It's like listening to Brian Sella's pure thoughts.

Two of my favorite tracks are ones that haven't been remastered: Push-Ups and Current Events. Both make me want to scream, to shout the lyrics at the top of my lungs, make me wish I thought to write them.

I think my favorite part about this album is how personal it feels. If I close my eyes, I can imagine sitting in someone's room, listening to them play guitar and workshop songs on the spot.

Transatlanticism - Death Cab for Cutie (2003)

I've already written a full 2k word summary and analysis on this album, so I'll try to keep it short. This album is full of longing, of emotion, of wistfulness. It's tear-jerking and heart-aching. If you've ever been in a long-distance relationship, had your partner travel far, had a relationship slowly die, this album will resonate.

This album is tastefully minimalist. Unlike Harmlessness, which admittedly has a similar vibe but uses a wide variety of instruments and effects, Transatlanticism keeps it simpler. Passenger Seat only includes vocals and piano.

I'm cutting myself off here to avoid rambling, but truly, this album means so much to me. It was the first album I bought on CD, in a Half Price Books, and I bring it with me on nearly every drive.

Dookie - Green Day (1994)

A classic, really. How could I not include Green Day on this list, and how could it not be Dookie? So many iconic songs - Welcome to Paradise, She, Longview, When I Come Around, Basket Case - even non-Green Day fans can likely recognize at least half of this album.

Dookie is the blueprint, the definition, of 90s punk rock. Loud, heavy, shout-y, it's just incredible. There's not much I can say about it that hasn't been said before.

My favorite track currently is Sassafras Roots. I love the use of repetition, and the way he says "smoking cigarettes" gets stuck in my mind on the daily. I sing it to my partner in the passenger seat of their car.

Joyce Manor - Joyce Manor (2011)

This number five spot isn't nearly as solidified as the other four, and it took a lot of consideration before landing on Joyce Manor. But something about this album, the heaviness, the lyricism, speaks to me in a very unique way.

Joyce Manor is an extremely short, punchy album, only a little under 19 minutes in length, but it manages to pack so much into every minute. Not a single second is wasted. Every lyric, every chord, every sung note feels important, like a load-bearing beam, each second packed with meaning.

Barry's voice is intoxicating, the way he slurs his words in a way that makes it difficult to make out what he's saying. I've joked before with friends that he sounds a little bit like he just got dental surgery and had to sing while still numb from Novocain, but I truly love it. It's iconic, inseparable from the Joyce Manor brand. The album wouldn't be the same without it.

Joyce Manor has a very unique way of writing their lyrics, and I'm not sure I can name another band that I think writes in a very similar style. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it, the strange turns of phrases they use or the interesting rhymes or the confusing metaphors. It's like I understand, but I don't.

The most iconic track on this album is, without a doubt, Constant Headache. While this song has one of my favorite lyrics of all time ("Your love was foreign to me / It made me think maybe human's not such a bad thing to be"), my personal favorite is Derailed. I love the train set metaphor, and the sound of the song as a whole.

Thank you for listening.

[missbrunettebarbie]

TTPD -the album proper- first thoughts

Here are some thoughts about TTPD -the album proper, cause I do not have the time or energy to analyze The Anthology (Taylor, wtf was this double drop???)- before I’m influenced by other people’s thoughts. Warning: I may be waaaay off the mark in some cases cause half the time when I was listening to these songs for the first time I was like “???”

Fortnight (feat. Post Malone) - Great melody, smart choice for an album opener, nice lyrics, no idea wtf the song is talking about. Like, I am guessing it’s about (a first?) break-up with Joe Alwyn in February -and they might have gotten back together for only a fortnight then broke up again for good?- but I’m so confused. Also, why is this the lead single? Taylor, this is not gonna win you SOTY at the grammys. 7/10

The Tortured Poets Department - This was … unexpected, to say the least. This was truly a picture of a moment in her relationship, while I expected either some kind of introspection or parody. Also the line about what he told Lucy and she said the same to Jack? Insane. Girl, you are both better off single. The ring and the wedding allusion? God, it hurt. (And it was only the beginning with this album…). Amazing song anyway. 9.5/10

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - Girl, this is mental illness for me. Love it to bits and I kinda wish it will become a single (I think it’s my … 3rd choice for a single?), but… girl, I’m happy you two broke up. 9.5/10

Down Bad - I had low expectations from this song cause the title inspired nothing in me, but it really delivered a punch. Probably one of the most honest songs on the album proper. Oh, and her vocals here? Her tone of voice? No notes, it just … hits different *_* 8/10

So Long London - Funny enough, I did hear a leak of this! But it was like … 10 seconds from the intro and I wasn’t sure it was real. It is a very good song, and I can understand why she chose it as a track 5. But for me, when compared to other track 5s -and with a title so inflammatory- it was a bit of a let down. Still love it of course. 8.5/10

But Daddy I Love Him - This one is about Matty Healy, isn’t it? Like, it has to be, cause for the life of me I can’t see who this guy could be but Matty Healy. This song … I laughed out loud. She’s unhinged. ‘I’m having his baby’. Girl, you are unhinged. The wedding fever continues, and now we get the first glimpse of the baby fever. God, I love her. You can literally hear how done she was with everyone having an opinion about whom she dates. I need to listen to this and I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) back to back, cause this girl was so so wrong. Except that bridge. The bridge is gospel and spoke straight to my soul. 10/10

Fresh Out the Slammer - And I’m guessing this is the continuation of the track before, so still about MH. I have to say, this is really meh for me. Maybe because I was expecting something even more high tempo, but this is just … there for me. It doesn’t help that the ‘pretty baby’ annoys me. 6/10

Florida!!! - Nice to see Florence get so much singing time. Their voices mashed surprisingly well. But just like with Fortnight -and these two do seem connected- I have no idea what she is talking about here. I think it might be a composite sketch referring to both her first post break-up shows and Florida as a metaphor for escaping from your life? Idek. But the melody is great and this might be my fave collab of hers so far. 8.5/10

Guilty as Sin? - Another Matty Healy one IMO. Amazing how much material she got from such a short-lived affair. IMO she made a mistake making this track 9 and Florida!!! track 8. I would switch them around to make more sense. I’m not 100% sure this is about emotional cheating, as I think the Joever break-up wasn’t as clear cut as it was made to be, but there is something here about overlapping timelines. 9/10

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me? - Well, everyone should be now!!! I adore this song, it’s my fave of the album. If I have one complaint about it is that I would have put it more towards the beginning of the album instead of in the middle of the Matty Healy Saga - which makes no sense to me. Honestly, I don’t have much to say about this track cause in my eyes it’s perfect. This is the Taylor I’m here for. 10/10

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - That last line! I laughed so hard. On one hand, I feel sorry for her. Otoh, girl, you should have run the first time you saw him. Great song to end the Matty Healy Saga on. 9/10

loml - Wow, this was a punch to the gut. Every lyric here is a masterpiece and a dagger to the heart. I would love it if she made this a single (this is SOTY material IMO), but it’s probably too emotional for her. The melody reminds me of Last Kiss, but the piano is giving Evermore. 10/10

I Can Do It With a Brokern Heart - Why is this not the lead single, Taylor??? It has everything: melody, lyrics, airplay value, SOTY potential, why?! I love every single second of this song, especially the chorus. I’m probably gonna listen to it on repeat. Second fave after WAOLOM. 10/10

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Every song I thought was gonna be cutting turned out to be just plain sad. IMO, this song is both about JA and MH. I don;t really have much to say about this song, as it is just .. painful. 9.5/10

The Alchemy - Yeah, I’m team This Song is About Travis. Nice song, and I like that she included something about the current relationship, but it’s not exactly a fave for me. 7.5/10

Clara Bow - This was my predicted fave, but it was def dethroned. Still, I do think this is Top 5 for me. I love the direct reference to herself at the end and the way this is both hopeful and still somewhat sad. Also really like the vocals here. 10/10

Final score: 8.87 

Not bad at all. Gonna deal with The Anthology later. Much later as I actually have a life to go back to.

[babybluelove2]

what listening to too much lesley gore as a thirteen-year-old in the present time will do to you (if you are a female ben hanscom and also being stalked by a demon clown) (alternatively titled: i’ll cry)

is this anything ? does anyone care about the extremely niche version of the losers club that i made up in my head where they are all girls and also dating ? ive been having fem ben hanscom thoughts so much that i thought i would share. u can take this if u want to

~♡~

Ben Hanscom was having a bad day, to put it in schoolgirl language. The talking-to-your-mother-crying bad day, the she-holds-you-and-tells-you-everything-will-be-alright bad day. Except that wasn’t it. Because Ben Hanscom has had bad days before. Schoolgirl bad days. And she has learned to not go to her mom after them; it just makes her feel worse.

Anyway, she had this feeling, gut deep, higher-power-level, that this was not a schoolgirl bad day. That this was just going to be a bad life, at least for a little bit. Things were bad. She could deal. She was good at distractions, at keeping herself company.

Ben Hanscom was a dreamer. A Lisbon girls dreamer. (Her words; she had watched The Virgin Suicides once when she was eleven because she heard one of the characters was named Bonnie, like her. Upon watching, she felt connected to the Lisbon girls. Like if they were her friends, they would understand her in the ways her mother never could. 

Bonnie Lisbon hangs herself at the end of the movie.)

She was thirteen now, Cecelia’s age, and had taken to writing in the margins of her favorite books, the ones she kept close to her heart. She liked poetry the best, it described the things she couldn’t form the words to herself, the liminal loneliness that permeated her very being.

Thirteen-year-old Ben Hanscom’s existence was poetry and music. Because music could fill a room. Music could be laughter or tears. Music could be It’s My Party by Lesley Gore. 

According to the tobacco-chewing man who worked at the Virginia record store, Miss Lesley was “vintage”. Ben hadn’t known that by vintage, he had meant irreparably damaged. It’s My Party was one of the only songs on her I’ll Cry If I Want To vinyl that played all the way through. She didn’t mind much. It was her favorite song on the album. A basic pick, but Ben didn’t pride herself on her individuality. The things that made her noticeable in a crowd were the things she hated most about herself. 

So it was an It’s-My-Party bad day, although Melanie Martinez’s rendition of the melody was more fitting objectively. She sat on the cheap mattress on the floor of her new bedroom and cried, Lesley Gore singing slightly off-key in the background. Today, the middle of March, was her first day at Derry Middle School. It was shit.

As a sort of first-world survival mechanism, and because of her destiny as an empath, Ben could sort out the good people from the bad. When she was little, she insisted on seeing the good in everyone, but she found with moving and new schools and a distinct lack of friends that she never got close enough to anyone to find their good. Usually this meant a lot of neutral. People would blend into the background, the type to not interfere if things got ugly when the bad presented itself. 

At Derry Middle School, there was no neutral, just bad. It vibrated in the sound waves of her teachers’ voices refusing to call her Ben (“Don’t be silly, Bonnie. Ben is a boy’s name.”), dilating the pupils of her judgmental classmates’ glares. At lunch, the only flavor she tasted was the putrid peach of anxious nausea. There were no empty tables when she entered the cafeteria, so she stood around awkwardly for about a minute-and-a-half and then hid out in the bathroom for the rest of the period.

The people were mean. It took her all of five minutes to run into Henry Bowers, who told her she’d better leave his town before she regretted it, like she had a choice in the matter, and said a few choice words about her weight that would inevitably take residence in the back of her thoughts always. She slipped out of the back door after the end-of-day bell, avoiding him and going back to her aunt’s house, her new home.

The record skipped. It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to. Cry if I want to–cry–cry–cry–

Like a girl with a car-crash-induced stutter, the song caught on the word cry, over and over. It was enough to elicit a reaction from the distraught teenager in the room. A little on the nose, she thought bitterly. Ben rubbed her tears into her complexion as she went to remove the record.

She had meant to hit the off button. Someone else would say their finger slipped, but Ben knew better. 

Her book of fairytales was packed away in a box somewhere. It was pink with golden sparkles and a built-in ribbon-bookmark. She didn’t need it in front of her to recount any of its tales. Sleeping Beauty was her best friend in second grade, far more reliable than anything else in her life. She used to write little confessions to Aurora, schoolgirl-bad-day musings next to her hopes and dreams.

Sleeping Beauty was cursed to prick her finger on the spinning wheel, just like Ben Hanscom was cursed to prick her finger on the needle of her record player, only she didn’t fall asleep for a hundred years.

She gasped a breath in when it happened, sticking her pointer into her mouth where it was bleeding. 

The music was still playing–cry–copper was on her tongue–cry–everything felt surreal; maybe she had taken her daydreaming habit too far this time–cry–her mom always said she was too separated from reality.

The vinyl shattered. She screamed, startled, covering her face out of instinct. A shard lodged itself into her arm, right through her baggy hoodie. Another cut through her baggy sweatpants. 

She scanned the room, maybe looking for her fairy godmother to step into view, rambling about how that wasn’t supposed to happen and she’s sorry, let me clean you up, darling. Or for someone entirely human to tell her she was going insane. But she was alone, the sudden quiet buzzy and disorienting.

After a pause that ensured one of her cousins wasn’t going to come and investigate, Ben moved to the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to look at the vinyl residue littering the carpet.

She was crying again by the time she pulled the pieces of vintage Lesley Gore out of her body. She had stopped some time before and was paying for it. Her tear ducts had finally caught up to produce sobs that died with the air that struggled to reach her lungs. Her clothes were ripped, and she wasn’t really in a position to afford new ones. She was in pain too, though she didn’t really feel it; all of her senses were being eclipsed by phantom hearing–cry–cry–cry–

It met Ben Hanscom that day, and her life would never be the same.

(@amorasalvatore i posted this whoops ty for listening to my ramblings)

[fonkeloog]

Britt's music things (deluxe edition)

Up All Night

○ Artist: One Direction

○ Release date: May 25th, 2012

○ Duration: 1 hour and 3 minutes

○ Overall rating: 6.2/10

○ Bubblegum pop and sad ballads

What Makes You Beautiful: 10/10

Listen. I don’t care what anyone says. This song is a banger and I refuse to hear anything else.

Are the lyrics questionable? Yes.

“You’re insecure” Thanks? Very nice

“Everyone else in the room can see it / Everyone else but you”

 Gotta Be You: 2/10

Oh god these lyrics.

They’re confessing to breaking the girls heart, and then ask for another chance?

Aaaah manipulation. “And if you walk away, I know I’ll fade / Cause there is nobody else.”

“Now, Girl, I hear it in your voice and how it trembles” sir… that- that is not a good thing.

THIS SONG IS WRONG ON SO MANY LEVELS HAHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS.

Can’t deny that it’s a banger tho.

 One Thing: 10/10

A bop.

If you don’t dance to this song while drunk, are you really drunk?

I would bet my left knee that 99% of the world population knows at least half of the lyrics to this song.

“I need that one thing, and you’ve got, that one thing.”

The guitars at the start are iconic, and when the drums start you just know what’s about to happen.

 More Than This: 5/10

Aaaand back to the sad songs we go.

None of the songs on this album are written by the boys, but whoever wrote them had just gone through a big heartbreak.

“If I’m louder, would you see me?” this line does hurt a little bit

The chorus is a bop, but the lyrics are too sad

 Up All Night: 9/10

This song makes me want to jump on a table and dance.

Classic party song.

I do like the way this album is ordered: happy, sad, happy, sad, happy

“I wanna stay up all night / And jump around until we see the sun / I wanna stay up all night / And find a girl and tell her she’s the one.”

 I Wish: 7/10

We keep the change in theme going.

Sad lyrics, melody is a bop!

“Oh how I wish that was me” but as they sing this all I want to do is dance around the room?

“Whenever you kiss him / I’m breaking” this line has no right being as big of a bop as it is.

The ending is so sad but the vibes of this song are great.

 Tell Me a Lie: 9/10

“Tell me I’m a screwed up mess / That I never listen, listen. / Tell me you don’t want my kiss / that you need your distance, distance / tell me anything but don’t say he’s what you’re missing, baby / if he’s the reason that you’re leaving me tonight / spare me what you think, and / Tell me a lie”

This chorus is such great one. It is sad, but very upbeat and I love it.

The bridge. Zayn’s voice. That’s it. That’s the review.

 Taken: 2/10

Ugh.

No.

I hate this song so much.

The only reason it gets a 2 is because it’s catchy and I can’t help but sing along.

 I Want: 10/10

Lyrics are, once again, very questionable.

It is a fucking bop tho….

Once again, Zayn and his vocals during the bridge are *chef’s kiss*

Also can we just take a second to appreciate louis basically carrying this song with his backing vocals?

 Everything About You: 5/10

Bubblegum pop to the max

The chorus is catchy and literally the only reason this song gets a 5/10

 Same Mistakes: 3.6/10

Very repetitive.

Putting this song on the album was a mistake.

I’m trying really hard to think of something positive to say but my mind is very empty.

 Save You Tonight: 6/10

This is a bop, but it’s also a skip.

I said what I said.

 Stole My Heart: 6.1/10

Every song in 2012 ever made sounds like this.

The chorus do be catchy.

Yeah no, I get why I liked this album when I was younger, but it’s not doing anything for me now.

 Stand Up: 4/10

The rating is mainly because of the emotional attachment I have regarding this album.

I don’t like this song, but I used to love it.

It would literally break 2012 Britt if I rated this any lower.

 Moments: 9/10

Did I really just rate this 9/10 solely because of the chorus? Yes. Yes, I did.

I couldn’t care less about this song if it wasn’t for the chorus. It is genuinely the saving grace.

Also, Louis sounds so young in this. They all do, but Louis’ voice just…. Gah.

Another World: 1/10

I hate this song.

It’s catchy, but the first verse just annoys me so much.

I am aware this is a controversial opinion, but this album sucks so much

NEXT

 Na Na Na: 10/10

Now this is a great song to end with.

It’s super original in the chorus

“We go na, na, na / Then we’re like yeah, yeah, yeah / Always like na, na, na / Then we’re like yeah, yeah, yeah”

So inspiring, much wow

 I Should Have Kissed You: 3/10

No. no you should not have kissed her.

Let the girl move on

Urgh

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

Summary: bubblegum-pop and teenage heartbreak

God. I used to love this album when I was younger. It has some bops still, but my god. No. This is not an album I'd put on to just listen to because I like it.

[rainydawgradioblog]

the greatest love SONGS known to man

Singer/songwriter Adrianne Lenker, lead singer of the band Big Thief, has blessed us with quite possibly the greatest love songs known to man through her 2020 solo project album literally entitled 'songs' . most of you have probably heard the song ‘Anything’ on TikTok, or at least those who are on the side of TikTok I’m on, and I’m happily here to inform you there’s more where that came from! Adrianne sings about magic, nostalgia, loss, vulnerability, the universe, and, of course, love. she articulates all of our feelings much better than you ever could, trust me! so here are my two cents on each of the songs on songs, which I hope convince you to love her just as much as I do, or at least give the album a listen. without further ado, songs, by Adrianne Lenker! The Greeks had Plato, we have her. 

two reverse: the most beautiful opening song - it is an unapologetic declaration of deep, all-consuming love that sets the tone for the rest of the album. the guitar and her voice of course are wonderful as well, overall just gets you so excited for what’s to come. who is Grandmother Juniper and where is her recipe?

ingydar: tickles my brain like no other. her little harmonies with herself? so good. every time I listen I have to relisten because it scratches something up there. the lyricism in this one I think is particularly good; everything eats and is eaten? poetic. this song just continues to explore themes of wishing everything that was temporary could stay a little longer and longing for it when it’s gone. the sentimental audience will love this one.

anything: what even needs to be said about this song - there is a reason it is her most popular solo project song. words cannot even do it justice! it’s such a soft song yet I find myself wanting to scream it every time in plays. this song I think is the accumulation of every good element of the album put into one; calming melody, lovely guitar, insane lyricism. how does she so perfectly articulate the impermanence of love itself? dragon in the new warm mountain didn’t you believe in me? this one seriously can’t be beat. I’ve never listened to it and not played it over again. shoutout the little ‘woo’ at the end. 

forwards beckon rebound: this song feels very Adrianne and feels a little like an homage to some of her older solo projects. it’s towards the middle of the album and definitely more somber than the songs that precede it, so if you’re into that, awesome. 

heavy focus: i listen to this one and i wonder why i am not around a campfire playing it right now. it’s one of the more folksy ones on the album and feels very reminiscent of ambiguous old times, almost a post-loss song, hence why it belongs to campfires and old summer nights. it’ll make you shed a tear, or at least it does for me. 

half return: Adrianne has a very special talent on romanticizing the mundane. this one similarly feels very reminiscent on old times, not even necessarily positive old times. yet somehow she sings about that rusty swing set in Minneapolis and i want to go to it? i love it. 

come: the guitar for so long at the beginning - we’re building up to maybe the most heart-wrenching song on the album. and her vocals coming it at the beginning, like come on. it’s slow, it’s lovely, and it hurts so much. it is the perfect song in the middle of the album to just bring you to tears; in an album about love and reminiscing and impermanence she includes this ballad of death, of the fear, of the cold. it’s a song about loss yet there’s such a deep love here that you feel throughout that Adrianne captures so perfectly, shows exactly why she’s so great at what she does. the guitar fading out at the end. brava. 

zombie girl: innocent, sweet, wholesome. this one captures the feeling of new love, of the feeling of it being totally encapsulating, and scary, and the initial curiosity and excitement of getting to know a new person, almost before life gets in the way. the birds are also a nice touch. 

not a lot, just forever: Adrianne’s magnum opus. are you kidding? this song is everything. the entire album Adrianne sings about how things just pass and this song just talks about how deeply you want to hold onto that love. to hold on to everything. it is the greatest acceptance and painful song about losing, about loving so deeply you wish it could be permanent. you want to intertwine yourself with another person in hopes they’ll stay with you forever. it hurts. it hurts so badly. how easy it could be to stay here forever. the ups and downs of love, the poison, the longing, the earthly paradise another person can feel like. not a lot, just forever. i cry. 

dragon eyes: this is song is what being in love feels like. the longing to just want to be recognized by another person. it’s as if she perfectly articulates the beauty of simple pleasures of another person. the transformative powers of love? it’s just so lovely. this is how i feel, i always end up listening to it again. also, the guitar is particularly good in this one. 

my angel: the ending credits to songs. amazing. enticing. tear jerking. beautiful. it would only make sense for the album to end so softly. i love how she’s used the entire album to talk about her love in comparison to the natural elements all around her, the sparrows, the wind, the dragons. however, the person she loves is an angel. a mythical creature sent by something higher, that’s what this song is about. she concludes the album with the comparison to the heavens. How could love be a force that can be explained by anything on earth? it feels so much greater. once again, i’m a fan. 

that's all! thanks for reading! go take a listen!

xoxo,

gabi

[polarfarina]

Daily 5 song shuffle

What the hey, I love sharing my music in blurbs, let's see what's coming from my playlist today!

The first song is Linger Longer by Cosmo Sheldrake - brother of the guy who grew mushrooms out of the book he wrote about mushrooms and then ate it (Merlin Sheldrake- also they co wrote a song about mushrooms together), this artist has a really cool feel. This song specifically feels dramatic and whimsical, I get it stuck in my head a lot.

Second song is II - Beautiful Losers by Kai Whiston and Joe Peterson. This song has two parts to it, one is kind of upbeat and sad at the same time, with a nice beat to it- but the second half is somber with piano and echoing voices. I have a love for sad songs, what can I say? They don't really make me sad, they just feel cathartic.

The third song is This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) by The Talking Heads. Not really a niche song or anything but I saw this song used in a fancam for crabs (just like, the whole animal, crabs) and it really spoke to me. The beginning especially feels timeless to me, like it's impossible to date just from that little guitar bit it starts off with, which is a really big plus to me.... timeless all the way babey!!

The fourth songs is Chiltonwalk.temp by Graham Kartna. Graham is one of my favorite artists this year, and I'm sure he'll be up in the top 5 at least in my Spotify wrapped. He uses warped tones and nostalgic sound effects, samples, and high energy beats that all really really scratch my brain. He made music that was included in the soundtrack for the viral series of animations called ENA (by Joel G) - Graham and Oliver Buckland both had awesome songs in that series, and I actually have a playlist of my favorite songs of theirs combined into one 35 song experience.

Last song is 4ever by Willow, which is a song from her album "lately I feel EVERYTHING" she released last year. I feel like that album has more of an alt rock feeling than a lot of the music she made before. One of the songs on that album was a collab with Avril Lavigne! This song specifically has echoey vocals and a depressed tone that really fit into the part of my brain that likes sadder songs. It's really a wonderful song!

That's the 5 songs for today, I'm gonna finish doing the dishes.

[heyyyharry]

Drivers License

(inspired by drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about

This song is so sad and it made me cry so I had to write something about it 🤧

.

.

.

“I love the song.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “But?” she asked her producer, who was on the phone. “You don’t sound like you love it.”

“Of course I love it, Y/N. It’s just–” Came a pause. “Do you really want this to be the next single?”

“What do you mean? You love it but it’s not good enough to be a single?”

“It’s too good, Y/N,” her producer said. “It’s very...personal.”

“That’s why I want to put it out, Gray. It means a lot to me.”

Gray was quiet for another moment. “The media and his fans are going to come for you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright. I’ll call you back.” Gray sounded defeated but she could still sense a smile as he told her, “Good job, kid,” before hanging up.

Y/N put her phone away, tossed her head back and heaved a sigh. She was well aware of the trouble she’d cause by releasing this song. It’d be like showing the whole world her diary. She’d written plenty of songs on her previous albums about her relationships, too. There had been witch hunts simply because the men she’d written songs about had fans who worshipped them and refused to see them as anything less than perfect. She wasn’t perfect, either. If she were perfect, she wouldn’t have written a song about an ‘almost’ relationship. She’d know her worth and not have chased someone who didn’t and would never want her. She knew that now. So this song would be the last thing she’d give this person. The last goodbye that she never got to say.

.

.

.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me see,” Y/N giggled and tried to grab his phone as he pretended to fight her off.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed, reached out to turn the music in his car down and handed her the phone. “It’s the memes your fans made about you not being able to drive,” he said, suppressing a grin.

Her jaw dropped. “I hate you!”

“I’m sorry. It slipped out,” he said, laughing again. She could listen to his laugh on replay. She loved his music, but his laugh had to be her most favourite melody. “To be fair, you talked a lot of shit about me in that interview, too.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” she scoffed at the smug look he was wearing. “At least I didn’t tell the whole world about your imaginary friend that you had until you were thirteen. You spilt my secret.”

“Not a secret anymore.”

She playfully smacked him on the arm. “My lawyer will hear about this.”

He pouted, pretending to be upset. “Guess we’ll never work together anymore.”

“Acting is not for me anyway.”

Y/N gave Harry back his phone. He took it but didn’t break eye contact as his brows knitted. “Stop saying that. You were great in the movie.”

She rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Oh please, have you been on the internet?”

“You mean my fans’ reactions, right? Just ignore them.” He breathed. “I mean, I love my fans, but they could be too much sometimes. Just look at all my previous relationships. I can’t even breathe around a female without them sending her death threats.”

“Yeah,” Y/N let out a nervous laugh, hands folded together resting on her knees. “Speaking of relationships,” she ventured, “are you talking to someone new?”

She wasn’t looking at him yet she could feel the heat from his gaze as he told her, “No. I already told you, Y/N. Right now there’s just you.”

Harry turned, putting both hands on his steering wheel. Was he nervous as well? Had she ruined the moment by bringing this up?

He took a deep breath, confirming her assumption. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just not ready for a relationship.”

It was the same line he’d told her times and times again, and she wished she could just tell him how much she loathed it. And since she couldn’t say anything, she just nodded and focused on the rings on her fingers.

“I do care a lot about you, though,” he added, his voice heavy with emotions.

Her friends had told her that men would say things like this, and most of the time they barely meant half of it. However, she’d known Harry for years. Their relationship had only changed since they’d been cast for the same movie earlier this year. She was confident that she knew him better than her friends or anyone else. Surely, he’d meant all the things he’d said to her. The problem was, he just wasn’t ready for a relationship.

“And I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” he said, now looking at her again.

She turned slowly and met his thoughtful green eyes. She offered a single smile as a way to tell him she wasn’t upset, even though she was, a little bit. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” she admitted.

His dimples reappeared. “I feel like it’s rare for people like us to find a connection like this, and I’ve never opened up to anyone the way I have to you. But I think now isn’t the time for us to take the risk of ruining this. Right now we’re still trying to figure out our own lives, you know?”

She nodded again, not knowing what to say.

They sat quietly for another moment, and it was he who broke the silence. “How come you never learn to drive?”

She could feel her cheeks glowing red. “I never had to drive myself.”

She’d been famous since she was fourteen, so she’d always had people driving her places. Whenever she told anyone that reason, they’d either call her spoiled to her face or give her a judgemental look that made her feel self-conscious. She didn’t have a dad or siblings, her mum didn’t know how to drive, either, and she was too afraid to ask anyone to teach her for she feared they’d judged her.

“I could teach you.”

Y/N whipped her head up and blinked blankly at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “I have a cousin who didn’t learn to drive when he was young because of his anxiety and I taught him. I could teach you.”

Trying to hide her excitement, Y/N smiled. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” His grin widened even though he was the one doing her a favour. It was moments like this that reassured her that he wasn’t like the other guys who’d broken her heart. “When you got your driver license,” he said, “you can drive up to my house on your own.”

“We can even go on road trips,” she said happily, already imagining the many scenarios in her head.

He seemed equally elated, which made her heart swell. “Yeah! Wanna do it now or–”

“Let’s do it now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. She climbed into the driver seat and watched him settle into the passenger side. That afternoon was the first time she’d learned how to drive. She would always remember that.

.

.

“Y/N, you’re up next,” said one member of the backstage staff who handed Y/N her mic and ran off to check on the backing vocalist.

Y/N felt her heart thumping in her chest as she clutched the microphone to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. She looked to her right, peering at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked beautiful. The makeup team and her stylist had spent three hours on this look and made sure that she was flawless.

Would he be watching the show tonight?

Had he even listened to the song?

It got to number one on the iTunes chart today. He must have listened to it. If not, he must have heard it on the radio or someone must have sent it to him. The whole world knew the song was for him, and everyone was talking about it. So even though he didn’t care anymore, even though he was happy with his new girlfriend, he must be wondering. Because when she’d heard that he’d written a song about her, she’d been so excited to listen to it. So could it be that he was wondering as well?

“This is Y/N performing her latest single DRIVERS LICENSE!”

Y/N took a deep breath as she got a nod from the stage director. She stepped out, soaked in the stage lights while the audience applauded and cheered for her. She stood at the centre of the stage as the band started playing and the noise in the audience died down. As a habit, she searched the front rows for his face despite knowing with every fibre in her body that this would be the last place he’d be tonight.

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

She could see it even now. Them driving through the quiet night. From her house to his and back. Just the two of them. The kisses they’d share at stoplights when there was no one else around. The way he’d place his hand on her thigh just because he wanted to. In retrospect, she should have realised that he wouldn’t ever do that to her in public. Their relationship, if she could call it that, had been almost nonexistent. Maybe that was why it’d been so easy for him to move on. You couldn’t feel remorse leaving behind something that didn’t exist. How unfortunate. It’d been real to her.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

She’d thought to herself that if he could write a song about someone he’d never dated, it was worth staying with him despite not actually being with him. She could not expect that a few months after that song had come out, he would be seen driving around with another girl. The girl he’d told her was only a good friend. This girl was older and perfect in every way. Y/N wouldn’t choose herself either if the choices were between her and that girl. But she couldn’t bring herself to hate the girl. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Harry had chosen her. And it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Y/N refused to see the red flags through her rose-coloured glasses.

And I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

Y/N wrote this song a week after she’d got her drivers license. She’d blast sad music in her car and cried as she drove past his house, wondering if he was still up and thinking of her whenever he saw headlights passing his street. The heartbreak had been confusing to her as they weren’t even together. It was funny how the whole world had believed in them, except for him. He’d told her he loved her, so why weren’t they together now? He’d said he wasn’t ready, so why was he holding hands with someone else on the street? Was it because of her? Was it something that she’d done? Was there something wrong with her? Why couldn’t he choose her? Y/N had pondered over those questions for months until she came to accept that there didn’t have to be a reason for someone to leave you. They simply lost feelings or found someone else. No one owed you an explanation.

Red lights, stop signs

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

For months, he'd been a ghost living rent-free in her head. She saw him in every face and every crowd, and she could even, in this moment, hear the sound of his laugh somewhere in the audience. She could hear him telling her he was proud of her, that everything would be okay. And the worst part was that, without her, he was still doing fine. He wouldn’t see her everywhere he went. He wouldn’t think about her when he was lying in bed and couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t wonder if she missed him. Because he didn’t miss her. And he would be saying the same things he’d said to her to his new girl.

Sidewalks we crossed

I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Over all the noise

God, I'm so blue, know we're through

But I still fuckin' love you, babe (Ooh, ooh)

There on the stage, she received sympathetic looks from the people in the front row as she cried her heart out to the lyrics. He might be at home this moment, watching the show with his new girlfriend, and seeing her cry on live television. Would they laugh at her together? Would he turn to his girlfriend and say he was sorry for how he’d treated Y/N and promised to never hurt his girlfriend the same way? The most heartbreaking thing, Y/N thought, wasn’t him leaving, but seeing him treat someone the way she’d wanted to be treated and realising that he’d been capable of doing it all this time, just not with her.

I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

Putting all her feelings into this song had made everything seem so much simpler and clearer. And at the end of the day, Y/N believed that the whole purpose of songwriting was to get closure. Perhaps, one day, when she listened to this song again, she wouldn’t be sad anymore.

Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

.

.

.

“Good job, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

“Love the song! You’re amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N faked a few more smiles then shut the door of her dressing room and slumped into her chair in front of the vanity.

All alone, she looked right at her reflection and took a deep breath.

Her phone buzzed and lit up with a new text message.

Harry: Congratulations on your no 1 :) xx

She pondered over the words, picked up her phone, and deleted his contact.

[captainsimagines]

traitor

Summary: It was only one night, no strings attached, just two friends working through their grief together. Steve went to live his life with Peggy and within two weeks of returning, he peacefully passed. Unimaginable things happen everyday, jokes have negative consequences, and protection doesn’t always protect from the possibility… the possibility of carrying a child. He would have stayed if he knew, everyone agrees with this, so why is the world calling Steve Rogers a traitor?

One-Shot (with a happy ending)

Pairing(s): Avengers x Fem Reader; brief Steve Rogers x Fem Reader

Warnings: Unexpected pregnancy; serious talks about abortion; brief mention of suicide (if you squint); mentions of Endgame deaths; strong language; minor descriptions of actual birth; ANGST but with a happy ending! This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 6,600+

A/N: So, Olivia Rodrigo’s album just came out and dude, jfc every song is magical. like... wtf. This is essentially a ‘song fanfic’, but ehhhh not quite. The lyrics don’t match the fanfic lmao but the melody does??? idk this is a shit ton of angst, be warned. It was from a request I got a while back, so this is kind of a request fanfic. 

~

Up until the moment Steve pressed his soft lips to yours, you were certain you had never experienced such a wonderful sensation of magic. You had been witness to actual magic, to beings from other worlds, and yet Steve’s gentle touch was enough to erase any other image, to completely overpower your senses, a kind of magic that dug deep into the trenches of your heart and settled in its new home. 

No, you and Steve were not a couple. There were some flirty remarks over the years, some fantasies that lay dormant, but there was never the craving to actually act upon them. But when half the world disappeared and the remaining Avengers came up with a plan five years later, the loss of a teammate prompted the sudden push of two touch-starved individuals. The rest of the team had gone to sulk in their own corners of the compound, some hard at work at constructing the final piece to the puzzle, and you and Steve ventured off to the kitchen. Two cups of tea each, silent but heavy tears mixing in with the sugar and milk. 

You were the first to break, shoulders crumbling and knees rocking under your weight. You fell to the floor, sobs and hiccups forming into a full-blown attack, your hands scratching at your neck. Steve fell beside you, pulling you into his chest and rocking you back and forth. He cried too, the final words of his best friend ringing in his ears like a dreaded song on repeat. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. 

Time was irrelevant, you had enough of counting time, estimating it, time-traveling through it. If you could sit there all night, all week, another five years huddled close to Steve Rogers, then so be it. 

‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ you had sobbed. 

‘I can’t believe it either. I can’t,’ he had cried back. 

You had simply lifted your head and turned his face toward yours, searching his eyes for any hesitation before you had leaned in first. He had returned the intimate gesture almost immediately, gripping you tightly. Tears dripped in between your moving lips, sobs caught inside breathy moans, grips becoming tighter and tighter as each of you shared your first time together. No other partner up until that point had ever pulled such a pained but grateful cry from your throat, no other human being had ever made you feel so safe and peaceful. 

The final battle was over, you had lost yet another teammate, but the world had a chance to start over. And Steve had pulled you aside a few days before he returned the stones, letting you know that he wasn’t coming back the same man. He had been so scared of telling you, of possibly betraying you, but when your palms cupped his cheeks and you gave him a kiss on the lips with a soft whisper of ‘Be with her. Cherish her. Be happy. We’ll meet again’, his worries instantly shattered. He could only rapidly nod his head, grabbing your hands that were soaked in his tears, and kissing them until he said his final goodbyes. 

And he returned such a different man, but with a smile you had never quite seen before. Yes, he was older and you only had a few seconds to actually process that, but he was happy. He had been happy. He finally lived the life he deserved. 

Sitting in that pew two weeks later, both sad and happy tears streaming down your face, you felt at peace for the first time in a long time. You simply gripped Wanda’s hand as they carried the casket down the aisle, a sad melody drowning the church. 

`

The first round of sickness hit you the day of the funeral, but you obviously didn’t think much of it. It was the fits of sadness and grief, the hot coil in the middle of your stomach, you thought. It had to be. It wasn’t until your breakfast was regurgitated into your toilet only a few minutes after enjoying it that you were suddenly worried. 

You sneaked to some liquor store a subway ride away, careful of not leaving a trail. This was embarrassing, it was insane, it couldn’t possibly be real. You gave the cashier your money and ran to the stall provided, peeing on the stick the best you could before placing it on the dirty sink in the corner. You patted your hands on your thighs repeatedly, careful to not touch any other thing in a goddamn liquor store bathroom. 

‘Friday?’ your voice was so defeated, tears already stinging your eyes.

Your little bluetooth sprang to life, ‘Yes, Y/N?’

Your bottom lip was trembling wildly, hands now shaking. ‘Can you stay active with me while I read the results? I can’t… I can’t be alone right now.’

‘Yes, Y/N. Anything you need, I’m here.’ You sobbed openly, thanking her under your breath. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to contact anybody else?’

‘I can’t face them. I can’t face them if it’s positive, Friday.’

‘Okay, it’s alright,’ her voice was so delicate, so quiet and reassuring. ‘Just keep talking to me, Y/N. I think the results should be ready now.’

You inched closer to the test. ‘I’m scared, Friday.’

‘I know,’ Friday sighed, ‘But you will get through this. No matter the result.’

Grabbing the small device from the sink, you swallowed so much saliva that it actually hurt. The plus sign was so clear, so evident in its visibility, and your ears only registered the loud cries escaping your painful lungs because Friday was practically yelling in your ear. 

‘Please, calm down Y/N! Your heart rate is too fast-” she was stuttering, an AI was stuttering. ‘I’m calling for help. You need someone to be here with you. I’m sorry.’

It took ten minutes. Ten minutes of banging outside the bathroom door from the cashier, ten minutes of blurry vision and a strep throat. Sam broke through the door as quickly as he could, eyes flying around the small bathroom until he saw you huddled in the corner, a pregnancy test clutched in your small hand. He crouched down beside you, hands extended but not exactly touching you, and eyes trying to lock with yours. 

‘Y/N, Y/N?’

Just the sound of his voice, the voice of someone who didn’t need this added pain in their lives, it was just too much. Another weight added to your shoulders. 

‘I don’t know why,’ you choked out, ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sam’s face contorted into a pained expression, eyes brimmed with salty tears. ‘What are you talking about? No one is blaming you for anything. You’re safe, I’m here.’

You shook your head violently, ‘I didn’t mean to.’

But as quickly as those words left your mouth, the pounding in your head had become too unbearable. You collapsed into Sam’s arms. 

`

You woke to a single doctor who was monitoring your vitals. She was just sitting beside your bed, clicking random buttons on the screen in front of her. You whimpered slightly, the bright lights temporarily blinding you. The doctor quickly stopped what she was doing and removed the tube from your nose, allowing you to breathe on your own. You ignored the weird scratch that caused, and asked her the question you needed to have answered by a true medical professional - not a liquor store device. 

She confirmed what you already knew. There were no ‘congratulations’ or even ‘I’m sorry’s’, just the fact that you were pregnant and it was very early on. There were still options for you, it was healthy so far, you were healthy so far- 

Wait, options? 

The team were all huddled outside, nerves all over the place. They didn’t know what was going on. Sam knew but it wasn’t his information to pass on. It wasn’t until Bucky’s angry demeanor actually turned violent, a hole forming through the hospital wall. You were all on a private floor, completely displaced from the reality down on other levels, so any freak-outs were only slightly justified. Slightly. 

‘Sam, you gotta tell us. I made a promise to Steve, Sam! I promised to take care of her!’

Bucky’s words gripped Sam’s heart in a metaphorical vice. ‘She’s gotta tell you guys, man. It’s not my place.’

You had curled in on yourself, the doctor’s words echoing louder and louder. 

‘Abortion is an option. At this rate, it would be quick and safe. I can promise you that. It’s your choice.’

You wanted to die. You wanted the world to swallow you up and bury you alive. You wanted to disappear. If you had died in the snap, this wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened. 

The ride back to the compound was a quiet one, with Sam driving you and the radio on low volume. 

‘Are you going to tell them?’

You bit your lip, ‘The doctor said I had options.’

Sam’s breath hitched and he tried to mask it, but you had heard it. You felt guilty, disgusting, like you betrayed Steve and the rest of the team. They had just lost him, you had just lost him, and you were carrying his child. And if Steve would have known, he would have wanted it. He would have encouraged you to have it, he would have been so happy, he would have been such a great fa-

‘The choice is yours, Y/N.’ He glanced over at you, ‘Can you at least tell me who the father is?’

The wrecked sobs were like second nature now, choking you with their strength. ‘I’m so sorry!’

Sam pulled to the side of the road and quickly took off his seatbelt, sliding over in the connected front seats to pull you into his chest. ‘Shh, hey. We are not going to be mad at you. Everything’s going to be okay. It may not seem like it now but-’

‘Sam!’ you cried, clutching his shirt in a tight fist. ‘I swear it was an accident! Steve didn’t know! He didn’t know, I swear he didn’t know!’

Sam’s mouth dropped open, an almost embarrassing noise of surprise sounding from the depths of his soul. He ran his hands through your hair, eyes rapidly searching for a single viewpoint. But he couldn’t focus on any one thing, not when you were shuddering against him and apologizing nonstop. 

Steve didn’t know. 

`

The team had reacted in a similar manner. They so desperately wanted to wish you a congratulations, it was the norm for this kind of thing. Especially with such a rough few years - bringing life into this world could be considered an ultimate blessing. But this was Steve’s child, his baby, his only baby in this timeline. It was a part of him, something he had unknowingly left behind. 

The team took a few days. The pain of losing Natasha, of losing Steve, of losing Tony. The gift of life. It was just too much. 

And you found yourself in front of Wanda’s bedroom door, hands clutching your night robe closed and knees wobbly. She brought you tea, she laid underneath the covers with you, she spooned you until you stopped crying. 

‘We weren’t together.’

‘You weren’t?’

You sat up, muscles straining due to your thousandth crying session that week. ‘No, it was one time. It was a mutual thing. We just… felt safe. And we made love.’

Wanda shut her eyes briefly, only to open them for two parallel tears to slip. ‘That sounds beautiful.’

‘We used protection. It really was an accident.’

Wanda interrupted, ‘No, don’t try and justify yourself. It happened. It’s done.’

You whimpered, reaching out to grab her hands. ‘I feel so guilty for even talking to you. I don’t know how you did it. I’m so selfish to be pouring all this on you-’

‘Hey, hey,’ she whispered, ‘But I am the only one who can truly understand. I have lost more in my lifetime than anybody ever should. But I am going to help you get through this, Y/N.’

You pulled her into a hug, ‘I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.’

Wanda slowly pulled away, eyes cloudy and touch of red twinge flying in her irises. ‘Alright. I won’t leave your side. No matter what you decide.’

` 

The chair was cold, the room was cold, no matter how inviting the hospital tried to make this room. It was decorated in the most neutral colors, so delicate in its designs, pamphlets and books scattered on every available surface. It was made to make the pregnant person feel secure, to feel comfortable in the hands of their doctor, but it just made you sick. 

And when the doctor asked if you would like an ultrasound first, that it wasn’t actually necessary for you to view it, you found yourself saying yes. You were at six weeks, it would be there. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, because even if you were strong enough to do that, she wasn’t. But she was here to hold your hand. She would hold your hand no matter what. 

It was the size of a grain of rice. That fuzzy, white figure off a little to the right of your uterus was the size of a grain. A literal grain of rice. The monitor shifted and the doctor cleared their throat, the slimy device absentmindedly being circled around your lower abdomen. 

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered, eyes locked on the place the doctor had their finger. Wanda brought her hand up to her mouth and looked away. 

That’s when you heard it. 

The steady rhythm of a strong heartbeat. 

Your chest started heaving, tears staining your cheeks as you listened to the beautiful sound. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor mumbled, ready to pull the monitor’s plug to end the live video but you gripped their arm before they could. 

‘No, no!’ you yelped, the heartbeat still sounding, so early in its actual life that this was for sure Steve’s child. 

You turned to Wanda, face contorting into one of agonizing regret. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Steve.’

Wanda gulped and took in a ragged breath, ‘Y/N, Steve’s not here.’

‘No,’ you whined, head turning back to look at the monitor. The monitor with yours and Steve’s child on it. ‘This is the only real part of him we have left, right?’

Wanda opened her mouth but shut it again, unable to formulate a proper response. 

‘This is Steve’s child,’ you stated, sucking in a breath through your sobs. ‘This is my child.’

` 

The team was alerted of your decision the minute you walked into the common room. They had known what you left for, dread itching in their souls and morals twisting greedily, but they hadn’t stopped you. They couldn’t do that to you. 

‘Hi,’ you mumbled, placing your things on the counter. Everyone kept their heads down, lumps growing in their throats as each second passed. ‘I’m okay.’

Clint was the first one to speak. ‘Did everything go well? Did they hurt you?’

You smiled with your teeth for the first time in weeks, ‘No, they didn’t hurt me. They didn’t even touch me.’

For a few seconds, no one caught on to your words. But Bucky was the first to register them, to etch them deeply into his brain, to stand from his seat and walk to you cautiously. ‘You decided-?’

You smiled wide now, happy tears falling over your strained cheeks. ‘I’m having a baby.’

The team erupted, cries and cheers deafening you. Bucky stumbled over and hugged you close, arms wrapped over your shoulders and face buried in your neck. He had to bend his knees to keep that position. He weeped into your shoulder and thanked you repeatedly, his own body rumbling with broken sobs. You held him close, fingers digging into his shirt and the skin of his back. 

‘We promise, Y/N,’ Sam said off to the side, waiting for his turn to hug you. ‘We promise to take care of you and this baby.’

A few more long-awaited congratulations were shared. ‘Guess I’m on desk duty for the next nine months, huh?’

Bucky held you tighter. 

`

The first four months were certainly eventful. Wanda insisted on taking pictures of you every few weeks. She had you model with a nice tight shirt to show off your growing stomach, different props in your arms as the weeks passed on.  Flowers, sporting equipment, random Avengers inventions, signs that read the number of weeks you were at. You even did couple shoots, with your teammates posing behind you with their hands on your stomach and an equally bright smile.

She had them printed out and framed, the compound common rooms now littered with random photos of you and your growing child. It was like a timeline, a museum considering you would catch someone inspecting the photographs. This time it was Scott, casually eating his cereal and balancing it in his hand as he walked the hallway. He had this silly smile on his face the whole time, milk dripping from his bottom lip. In his photo, he was posed behind you with a giant smile, back arched and head thrown back while you were trying your best to arch your back as well. And then he saw you watching him, eyes falling from your face to your stomach, and that silly smile growing wider. 

Happy insisted on doing yoga with you every other morning, his chosen playlists actually Tony’s. Half expecting the songs to only emit the essence of rock and roll, you were surprised when the playlist only contained acoustics. Happy winked at you, ‘He was a man of taste, Y/N. He, too, had those sad driving songs.’

Peter was hesitant to visit at first. He was still mourning Tony, as you all were, and seeing everyone again was certainly a hard thing to do. But he managed, and the moment he saw you there, trying to balance a plastic bottle on your tiny stomach, he burst into a fit of giggles. 

‘Oh, oh! I almost got it!’ you encouraged yourself, stomach not yet protruded enough to quite get it. 

Peter rushed over and caught the bottle as it slipped, ‘You’ll get there. How do you feel?’

You grinned at the kid, ‘Like I’m pregnant.’

Peter chuckled, ‘I wouldn’t know, so.’

‘It’s weird,’ you admitted, turning back to your abandoned bowl of fruit. You popped a piece of pineapple in your mouth, ‘But I just remind myself that they’re gonna be an angel when they come out.’

‘All slimy and angelic.’

You swatted at Peter, ‘They’re healthy. That’s all that matters.’

Peter placed his hand on your stomach, half-expecting something to happen. ‘I can’t believe you’re having his baby.’

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. Steve should be here experiencing this. ‘Me neither.’

`

The next month had come so quickly. Your friends - your family - made sure to keep you occupied. Whether it was to shop, to nap together, to eat together, to exercise together, anything, they were by your side. It was so overwhelming at times, but not wanting to scare anyone, you took time for yourself whenever you could. You’d settle in your room, in a nearby cafe, in Natasha’s room, and just sit and breathe. With one hand on your stomach, you couldn’t possibly fathom the luck on your side. It always tore your heart in two when you realized Steve would never meet his child, absolutely mutilated it. But the realization that this child was going to have such a massive family, your family, uncles and aunts who would die for the kid - that realization was sometimes too much. 

The thunder from outside startled everyone. The quiet night everyone was having was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a certain god, hair now cut and beard trimmed, running into the common area. He was practically hyperventilating, his quick pace halting as he scanned the room. ‘Is it true?’

‘You got my message?’ Wanda asked, shutting off the water from the sink. 

‘I’m sorry, I was away. I just got the message and-’

Thor lay his eyes on you, your obvious stomach, and he started crying softly. ‘It’s true?’

You smiled at him, opening your arms for an embrace. But Thor fell to his knees in front of you, forehead resting on your stomach. ‘This is a miracle.’

‘It really is,’ you laughed, wiping away a few stray tears. ‘The condom broke.’

Laughter sounded almost instantly. 

Thor looked up at you, eyes red and eyebrows furrowed. ‘He didn’t know?’

You shook your head, ‘No, Steve didn’t know. I promise.’

Thor nodded, believing you. He stood slowly, encasing you in a tight squeeze. He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him, but he did seem to be drinking less. ‘After so much loss, the Heaven’s send us a gift from a beloved friend.’

`

Bucky seemed to be the happiest. Although he shared your beliefs that Steve should be here to experience this, to cherish this, to be the father he had deserved to be, Bucky couldn’t help but feel grateful that you decided to keep the baby. He knew he needed to stop relying on Steve to fix his mind, this he had to do on his own, but the bundle of joy inside of you just added to his undying love for his best friend. This was a piece of him, a true half of Steve’s heart that would soon be breathing air and opening its eyes. 

He was currently laying beside you, just woken up from a nap and lazily drawing circles over your clothed tummy. You were still asleep, deep breaths a little ragged since you were twisted slightly to your side. You had given up trying to sleep on your back nowadays. 

‘Hey there,’ Bucky whispered, a funny smile forming on his face because he can’t believe he’s talking to your literal stomach. ‘You know you’re a miracle, right?’

There was no response, obviously. But Bucky just positioned himself to lean on his elbow, temple resting in the palm of his hand. ‘We’re going to love you so much. Steve would have loved you so much.’

He placed his metal hand on your stomach, careful not to apply so much pressure. He was hesitant though, the metal hand now from Wakanda but still something he didn’t entirely trust. Still, he rubbed smooth circles on your side. ‘I already love you so much.’

Kick.

Bucky widened his eyes, a hitch in his breath. Was that real?

‘Did you just respond to me?’ Bucky asked, a little laugh escaping his lips. ‘Should I say it again?’

Nothing happened for a long while. He switched hands, rubbing a little deeper now. It was a free massage for you, anyway. 

Bucky bit his lip and looked up at your face, still peacefully dreaming. He leaned closer to your stomach and repeated his earlier confession. ‘I love you.’

Kick. 

Bucky shot up from his spot on the bed and covered his mouth, a loud laugh accidentally escaping and startling you awake. 

‘W-What?’

‘They kicked! They kicked!’

‘Seriously?’

Bucky was shooting through the stars, because even though it was a long shot, he felt like somehow Steve was telling him he loved him back. 

`

Sam’s leg bounced madly as he watched the doctor slick up the generator. You repeatedly tried to calm him, tell him that it would be quick and simple, and there was nothing to be worried about. 

You were six months now. Belly now protruding to the point where you could only see the tips of your toes when you glanced downward, and the baby was positioned farther into your back. If anything, you were having a giant freaking baby. He was a product of a super soldier. 

You remembered having that scary conversation with the doctors, your whole family beside you as they heard and relayed the information. 

‘Your baby is perfectly healthy. The serum isn’t affecting it. His lungs are forming less quickly than the other organs but there’s no serious worry.’

Bucky had literally cackled at that, confusing everyone in the room. ‘Steve and his shit lungs.’

But now you were finding out the sex. Only one person was allowed in the room this time, and Sam had literally begged you with his eyes to choose him. 

‘Are you two ready?’

You each nodded at the doctor, waiting for the monitor to spring to life. After a few seconds, the heartbeat was detected. You gripped Sam’s hand in yours, a quiet ‘thank god’ passing through his lips. 

Then the giant image of a literal baby appeared on the screen. It was so surreal. It resembled a quick sketch, like one Steve would have casually drew, and you couldn’t help but imagine him drawing that very image from memory. 

‘Y/N, I-’ Sam cleared his throat, smiling at you. 

‘Would you like to know the sex of the baby?’

‘Yes, please,’ you answered, gripping Sam’s hand harder. 

The doctor moved the generator a few times more, hitting the spacebar on the computer to capture the image. ‘Congratulations, you’re having a boy.’

You shuttered a tiny laugh as Sam flew out of his seat, arms extended upward for a moment before he brought his hands down to kiss them over and over. 

‘I’ll print this out for you,’ the doctor smiled, leaving you and Sam to celebrate. 

`

Everyone had gathered later that night to find out the news. You had printed enough copies for everyone who wanted one. Bets were placed, a multitude of gifts already mounted in online shopping carts. 

‘Don’t keep us waiting!’ Rhodey shouted, champagne bottle at the ready and propped up on his thigh for when you made your announcement. 

Sam was standing beside you, a massive grin plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and urged him on, telling him that you were fine with him saying it. Sam didn’t need to be told twice. 

‘It’s a boy!’

Pop! Drinks were poured and hugs were shared, with even Friday coming over the monitor to congratulate you. 

Even in the midst of all the excitement, you felt a little empty. But you enjoyed your pre-baby shower, happy that everything was so unbelievably working out. 

It was midnight when you alerted Friday to call Happy to your room. You needed a ride. 

Happy was slightly irritated at being woken up, but once you told him where you were heading, he obliged. The ride was silent, comfortable, with Happy glancing at you once in a while to make sure you were okay. 

You walked across the grass slowly, hands resting on your stomach and just a little waddle in your walk. You flashed your phone light over the headstones even though the headstone you were looking for was in a secluded area. Happy trailed you, keeping a respectable distance. 

You stopped in front of the small building, the fence somewhat blocking your path. But there was no security around, and even if you were caught on camera, your face let everyone know who you were and your connection to Steve. You had no worries. 

You broke the lock easily and opened the door. It was almost entirely marble, a good deal of Steve’s actual aesthetic. So simple, not overly patriotic, and secluded. He had refused to be buried in Arlington. 

You sat on the bench provided, the three names in front of you standing out like they were begging to be read out loud. So you complied. 

‘Sarah,’ you muttered, smiling as the name rolled off your tongue. ‘Thank you for sending everyone a literal angel.’

You muttered his father’s name as well, but felt no personal connection to it. You spent at least ten minutes building up the courage to utter his name, to say his name in front of him again. He was buried right underneath your feet, his name the only thing for you to see. 

‘Steve,’ you sighed and rubbed your stomach. ‘Steve.’

You sobbed silently and watched as the tears fell on top of your resting hands. ‘I don’t regret it.’

You were met with silence. ‘I don’t regret any of it. God knows why he did this. But you lived your life, and I just can’t believe I have to bring life into this world without you here.’

‘It’s a boy, Steve. A lovely little boy.’

You brought your hand up to your mouth to bite the side of it, throat clenching. ‘Everyone is so happy. I am, too. I promise you.’

You lowered your hand back to your stomach. ‘I just wish that you could feel that happiness.’

The moonlight moved slightly, shining on his name brighter now. ‘He’ll know about you, don’t worry about that.’ You laughed. 

You didn’t want to keep Happy waiting. You stood from the bench slowly, feet sore. You walked closer to him, wishing you could easily bend down and give him a kiss. But you physically couldn’t right now, so you blew him one instead. ‘Thank you.’

`

Somehow the rumor got out that an Avenger was pregnant. And when Wanda was seen outside without a large stomach, all fingers were pointed at you. 

The news went ballistic, most positive and raving, while others pondered just who had gotten you pregnant. You had been seen with everyone in paparazzi photos, so no actual conclusion had been made. 

Until a picture of you at Steve’s gravesite was leaked. 

It was constant bombardment, timelines were stitched together, magazines and their headlines were having a field day. Rhodey had tried to cancel these news stories, to threaten lawsuits, but to no avail. The world was now cursing Steve’s name - ‘how dare he leave her while pregnant?’, ‘how could he leave her pregnant and for another woman?’, ‘did he even know?’

The team had done everything in their power to try and clear yours and Steve’s name, but no one was having it. Steve’s love story was now tarnished, with many calling him a traitor and a deadbeat. It was no use. 

You struggled to climb the stairs, inwardly cursing the staff for not installing a ramp instead. The flashes were blinding, the lights were hot, and the various microphones placed on the stand were comical. 

Everyone hushed, looks of sympathy and pity slapping you in the face. 

‘I know what you’re all thinking and what you’ve all been saying,’ you started, eyes wandering to the far corner of the room where your team were huddled. ‘But I need to clear a few things up.’

‘Steve didn’t know.’

The crowd erupted, questions flying at you like fast bullets. They were silenced after a few moments. ‘We shared a moment with each other before we brought everyone back. I didn’t know I was pregnant until after his funeral.’

The crowd murmured amongst each other. ‘He told me he was planning to stay in another timeline. To live his life. I encouraged him. He did not leave me alone and pregnant. He truly didn’t know.’

You finished, they didn’t deserve a deeper explanation. You ignored their calls for questions, some even trying to crowd you at the doors. But you pushed through them, cradling your stomach with a newfound sense of pride. 

`

It was time. 

You sat up in your bed and quickly wiped away the hard crusts from the corners of your eyes. You sat there for a few seconds before you felt another harsh twinge. ‘A-ah!’

You didn’t know why you paused, legs now thrown over the side of the bed. They felt like menstrual cramps, it could be false labor. You let out a heavy breath and pushed yourself up, legs wobbly. But the moment you did, it was like something snapped. Your legs were wet and a tiny puddle had started forming on the floor. 

‘Friday!’

The lights in your room turned on immediately, ‘Y/N, is it time?’

You moaned at the uncomfortable cramping, ‘Yeah, I think it is.’

‘I’m waking and alerting the team right now, Y/N. Sit back down, please.’

You listened to Friday, sitting at the edge of your bed for a few moments before you realized you had to pack a bag. You shuffled across your room and grabbed the duffel bag Scott had left for you a few days ago. You packed a pair of socks, sweats, underwear, vaseline and your toothbrush, hairbrush, and phone. You zipped your bag just in time for both Bucky and Sam to throw open your door, Sam struggling to put his shoes on and Bucky slipping on a jacket inside-out. 

‘Y/N, is it really time? Are you ready? Are you okay?’

You ignored the cramping in your back and laughed at them, ‘Yes! My water broke, I’m in pain, it’s time.’

With both Sam and Bucky at your sides, they held onto you as you all stumbled down the hallway. Thor was already waiting with the elevator open, the biggest smile on his aging face. 

‘Wanda and Bruce are preparing the room. Scott already called the doctor. Clint’s in route,’ Bucky reassured. The three men huddled into the elevator with you, all instructing you to breathe and to squeeze them if you needed to. 

But even though you were in pain, albeit not as extreme as it was going to inevitably get, you were so incredibly happy. They were all so loud, so chaotic, and you were as calm as a cucumber. 

The elevator dinged. ‘Good luck, Y/N,’ you heard Friday call after you. You pinched your eyes closed, the thought that Friday was ultimately a part of Tony’s consciousness - Tony was wishing you good luck. 

The pressure in your hips was starting to build and you didn’t know how long this would actually take. Some people had quick births, some people lay in labor for hours, some for a day. But it seemed like this was going to be pretty quick, because your next scream was completely involuntarily. 

Bucky winced, leading you to the bed Wanda had just lay sheets on. ‘You’re doing great, Y/N. Absolutely perfect.’

You laughed at Bucky and gripped his hand in silent thanks before slipping into the bed and trying to get comfortable. Before you could truly feel like you made it, like the first hard step was done, you sat up quickly. 

‘Wait, wait! Nat’s sweater! I was gonna wear Nat’s sweater!’

Thor was already out the door, ‘I’ll get it! Don’t worry!’

You smiled at the ceiling, beads of sweat now rolling down your forehead. ‘Oh, this hurts!’

It was an hour. Once you shimmied into Natasha’s purple knitted sweater, you lay there trying to control your breathing. Everyone had piled into the room one right after the other. The room was big enough, spacious enough for even Bruce to roam freely. Although you were in an immense amount of pain, you still focused on your team. 

Scott was on his third cup of coffee, sipping excitedly as he conversed with the others. Bruce was constantly checking your vitals and wanting everything the doctor was saying repeated. Wanda was beside you, a hand gripping yours and the other running ice chips along your lips. Bucky was on your other bedside wearing one of Steve’s sweatshirts because it still smelled like him. His logic was that if he was wearing something of Steve’s the first moment he held your baby, then the first thing he smelled would be the remnants of his father. 

And Thor was practically speechless, silent in his own little corner and feeling like the god’s really did bless everyone in this room after such turmoil.

Clint arrived with Peter trailing behind him just when the doctor instructed you sit up - you were at ten centimeters. 

‘You gotta push, Y/N! You gotta push when the doctor says push!’

You yelled until your lungs gave out, head almost rolling back but Sam held it in his palm. ‘C’mon, Y/N! You’re doing great!’

You usually had perfect pitch when you sang, never faltering when it was time to hit a high note. But your voice was cracking at the most unusual times, throat rubbed raw as you felt your hips splinter open. 

‘He’s crowning!’

Wanda traded places with Sam real quick, deciding that she wanted to see the baby when he was finally out. Bucky had a death grip on your hand, tears flowing freely and a smile to match Thor’s. 

‘Push, Y/N! Push!’

‘I’m-I’m! I’m sorry! I can’t!’

The doctor was working her hands around the head, trying to ease the baby out easier. ‘Trust me, Y/N. One more big push and the shoulders will be out. That’s the hardest part.’

The doctor’s words were starting to drown out, and your head lolled back again. You felt tiny smacks on your cheeks, ‘C’mon, Y/N. You can do this. Everyone believes in you. You’re so goddamn strong, Y/N!’

That was Bucky’s voice. Bucky. 

You opened your eyes, delirious for a second. ‘Steve?’

Bucky whimpered and nodded, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing kisses all over. ‘He’s here. I feel him, Y/N. You can do this.’

And you could feel him. You could see your family but you could feel him. It was so light, like a gentle whisk across the cheek, a promise that this truly was a miracle. 

You screamed as you pushed under doctor’s orders, feeling numb and abused but satisfied. His shoulders slipped out and along with them came his arms and torso, legs and all ten toes. The doctor caught him quickly, lifting him up vertically to let you see him. He was already crying. 

‘He’s here!’

You sobbed and smiled widely, laughter rattling your chest as the team bombarded you with quick hugs. Sam remained at your side, his eyes motioning for Bucky to go see the baby. 

‘Who’s cutting the cord?’

You looked around the room but you knew. You answered the doctor’s question. ‘Bucky.’

Bucky was truly confused. Not because of your decision, but because he couldn’t possibly be worthy of this. His hands, those hands that had killed so many people involuntarily, had almost killed Steve, those hands were now gripping a pair of medical scissors to cut the symbolization of new life entering the world. He turned to you for permission one last time, before he gripped the cord in his hand and cut where the doctor pointed. 

His shoulders felt a million times lighter. Like he was set free all over again. 

They cleaned the baby up quickly and swaddled him. The doctor placed him in your arms, all warm and utterly safe, to look back up at you with the same blue eyes as his father. 

You sobbed happily, brushing your fingers delicately along his pink cheek. ‘Hi. Hi there.’

He was no longer crying, just staring up in pure astonishment at the various faces staring back at him. 

‘Y/N, he’s beautiful,’ Clint said, tissue already in hand. 

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ you spoke softly. 

‘Do we have a name?’

It was like everyone said it in unison. ‘Steve.’

You snuggled into the bed and Natasha’s sweater, somewhat aware of the doctor still fixing you up down there. You would try feeding later, but for now your newborn needed to be passed around the group and be awed at. 

You carefully guided him to Bucky, holding his head gently in your palm. Bucky took him, arms instinctively curling in the correct position. Once Bucky had him in his arms, it was like everything that happened in the world was worth it. Absolutely everything. 

Bucky watched in fascination as the baby curled deeper in his chest, little fist clutching Steve’s sweatshirt. He took the sweetest little intake of air…

`

xxMoni

[fonulyn]

Hello <33

I read some of your fics and loved them ❤

If it's not bothersome I'd like to ask for a prompt, but if you can't I'll understand perfectly ☺

It's about one of my headcanons between Chris and Leon, that while Chris prefers to listen to calm or acoustic music, sometimes a rock ballad, jazz and even classical music, Leon is totally the opposite and is a complete metalhead who loves deathmetal and even metalcore 😅 (by the way, he can sing with a guttural voice and Chris doesn't understand how he can sound so inhuman haha)

I was thinking about this promt since I listened "To the hellfire" by Lorna Shore (the last breakdown is so good 💗)

Once again, I love your stories 💕💕

hi there! thank you so much, i'm so glad to hear you've enjoyed the ficcage :D 💖 ah and I like the thought that Chris listens to calmer music while Leon's into metal (I am 100% projecting my own taste in music onto Leon haha :'D). I do feel they'd both listen to quite a wide range tho. also i never heard that song before, listened to it now and it's pretty cool! i admit i like my metal with cleaner vocals tbh but the melodies and the chorus are solid!

but anyhow!! here have a tiny little thing, also featuring Claire and Jill :3 (a shoutout to my brother who picked all the music for the ficlet lol)

-

Humming a little to himself Leon leaned against the car door, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the wind on his face. It was a bright, sunny day, so hot that his thin shirt was practically glued to his skin. He wasn't the only one, not by any stretch, with four people crammed into Chris's Ford Escort that he staunchly refused to trade in for anything newer. Claire always called the car Chris' girlfriend, but Chris just shrugged it off and didn't even argue.

Not that Leon minded. He and Chris might not have been dating for more than a few months but he knew better than to feel threatened by a car, at least. Although the next time they were heading out for a road trip, he was going to suggest that they rent something with properly functioning AC and more leg room for the passengers.

Despite Chris' protests, Leon had propped his feet up on the dashboard, slouched low in his seat as he idly watched the scenery go by. Claire was sitting behind Chris, kicking his seat every time she disagreed with something he said, and their familiar bickering felt... safe. Felt normal. And this was exactly what Leon needed as his life was otherwise way too full of the undead, decidedly not normal things.

At the moment Chris and Claire were singing along to Uriah Heep's Lady in Black, and even Jill was humming a little in the backseat behind Leon. It was all so very peaceful, driving here in the middle of absolutely nowhere, watching the sun slowly start to set. They'd been on the road for hours, ever since they stopped to have lunch at a roadside diner, and another stop was definitely going to happen soon. Especially with the way Chris was starting to look a little sleepy, as he'd been driving too long.

Leon let himself be lulled half asleep by the soft notes of Miles Davis' C.T.A, only barely registering what songs were playing while he dozed. When the last notes of Pan Am Highway Blues faded into nothingness, Chris finally pulled over at a gas station that had huge signs bragging about their excellent burgers.

The burgers were excellent, admittedly, and after they'd eaten, had their bathroom breaks, and stretched their legs a little - and, sure, maybe Chris and Leon stole a few precious minutes of lazily making out while Claire and Jill were purchasing a mountain of snacks - they piled right back into the car. As late as it was, they'd agreed they'd drive through the night to get to spend more time at their actual destination.

It was chillier as the sun had gone down and Leon pulled on a hoodie, even if he chose to keep his shorts as he didn't feel like changing. As soon as he slid into the driver's seat, Chris already preemptively wrinkled his nose. "You're not going to force any more Napalm Death on me, are you?"

"Oh, don't worry," Leon hummed happily, tilting his head to see if the girls had already buckled in. Claire had an entire donut stuffed into her mouth, but she seemed to be in high spirits as she attempted a grin, anyway.

Leon turned back to Chris, even leaned in to plant a quick kiss in the corner of his mouth, before turning back towards the steering wheel and starting the car. "I've got this brand new CD and I've been dying to give it a listen..." He slipped the CD out of its case and inserted it into the player, giving Chris a sweet smile. "The album is called Exit."

"And the band is called?" Chris asked. It was clear in his expression that he was getting more than a little suspicious with the way Leon refused to show him the case. "C'mon, Leon, it's bet--"

He was cut short as someone screamed so loud it drowned out all of the sound in the car. The volume had been pumped up pretty high for Chris' smooth jazz and soft rock, so graciously Leon took it down a couple of notches. The screaming continued, the drums and ... Chris couldn't even tell apart any of the other instruments, it was all just noise to him.

Leon blinked innocently. "Rotten Sound," he answered. "The song is called Western Cancer." Then he peeled out of the parking lot, screaming at the top of his lungs along to the music.

Helpless, Chris turned to look at the backseat. The uneaten half of Claire's donut had fallen on her chest and she stared right back, utterly disbelieving. "This is worse than Death," she muttered, raising her voice over the music in hopes that Leon would hear her. "Can we please go back to Buddy Guy? ZZ Top? Even Death, c'mon!"

There was no reaction, so Chris glanced at Jill. "Help us out here."

"No," Jill answered. Nonchalantly she pushed her sunglasses up her nose, even though the sun had already gone down and there was absolutely no need for them. "Finally we get some good fucking music. Deal with it, losers."

Not even looking back, Leon reached out his hand for a high five. Jill didn't waste a second before giving him one.

With a groan, the Redfield siblings admitted defeat.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

So Taylor gets compared to Paul a lot, and rightfully so. But I honestly think her writing is more like John's. She uses collaborators to arrange and mix and produce and her lyrics are stronger than her melodies. Hey lyrics are also, like John's, introspective and journalistic. But for whatever reason (maybe mysogyny) she gets criticized for it while John is worshipped. Critics talking about John say he was blunt and unguarded. Taylor gets called self-centered and dramatic. What do you think?

I think the Paul comparisons come less from similarities in their music rather than similarities in their personality. That being said, Taylor's lyrics, while being direct and vulnerable in a way closer to John's writing than Paul's (in general, there's a lot of exceptions to these Lennon-McCartney rules), often have a more story-like structure, which, I'd say is closer to Paul's style.

I actually think that Taylor also has an emotionally volatile streak, much more reminscent of John than Paul, which you can see in her early work, idealizing the thrill of fighting in songs like The Way I Loved You. Or The Other Side Of The Door, which is about saying the opposite of what you mean and hoping the person realizes. She also reflects on how this mindset has damaged her in The Archer.

Regarding the way they're perceived: I'd say it's a lot of stuff, misogyny included. Taylor started as a teenaged girl writing for teenaged girls, in a genre dominated by adult men. She also spent the first five years or so of her career being unabashedly wide-eyed and doing things that appealed to HER — that is, a (feminine) teenaged girl. She enjoyed writing romcom tropes and fairytale imagery, making things "pretty". What I'm saying is it's not just her being a girl but the type of girl she presented, which markedly did not pander to men.

(sidenote: this is not about how feminine women actually experience more misogyny than masculine women, because they don't. It's actually more about different types of femininity, like a "sexy" feminity someone like Ariana Grande represents, a "classy" femininity someone like Adele represents, or Taylor's "childlike and naive" femininity and how the latter is the least geared towards what men want to see in artists)

Of course, the Beatles were mostly marketed to a young female audience as well, and they were criticized for it and not taken completely seriously at first. However, around Revolver (which, mind you was, depending on where you were, less than four or three years into their fame) they started being taken very seriously by critics. Taylor's always had critical acclaim, but arguably little of her work before folklore, maybe with the exception of Red, appealed to a male audience specifically, which often cost her points in how serious she's taken by critics who aren't open to her outlook on life.

From what I can tell, John mostly got that image of "blunt" and "unguarded" post-Beatles, releasing an album like POB. But by this point, people had taken him seriously as an artist basically half his career, so it was much easier to come away with the idea that POB was a serious, vulnerable album, because they went into it believing he had something valuable to say, aligned with their image of John.

I guess what I'm saying is Taylor having a slower development than John, music-wise, because she found success six years earlier and because her label never milked her as badly as the Beatles were, solidified her early image much more than the moptop era did for John.

There's also, of course, to some extent, Taylor's single choices, which a lot of Swifties agree don't demonstrate her full talent (something I'm personally kind of okay with, cause I like going into an album without set standards). On the other hand, the known Beatles songs aren't generally their weaker songs and there's a considerable overlap between their known songs and their best songs (even though I'm a huge advocate for their hidden gems). This ultimately helps with their perceived talent, because you have to be "in the know" to understand how great Taylor's songwriting is, while Strawberry Fields Forever is a well-known Beatles song. (Maybe, in a post ATW10 world, this will change for Taylor though).

Also, John having a few extremely well-known songs not be about love helps downplay how much he wrote about love, making him seem miles more versatile than her, while for Taylor, her known songs tend to be about love, giving casual listeners the impression that all her songs are. (Not to say that she didn't quite definitely write more about it than John, in total, just that there aren't eons of difference)

John also specifically courted a male audience in the early 70s, I'd say, which I don't think you could say Taylor has ever attempted.

Lastly, John's well-known "blunt" songs tend to be criticizing "the establishment" (even How Do You Sleep?, which I think, outside our tinhat-adjacent circles, is seen much more as an attack on Paul's "normie musician" image rather than a personally-motivated, vindictive jab meant first and foremost to hurt him — someone correct me if I'm wrong though), whereas Taylor is usually criticizing people in her personal life. Thus, the average listener is probably not the object of John's criticism, and there's even a satisfaction in aligning oneself with him, joining him against the establishment. Taylor though, is often criticizing common human flaws, like someone being emotionally closed off towards her or treating her like she isn't an equal. I think there's a chance that some people feel like she's holding up a mirror to them and lash out, feeling like she has to be exaggerating, or feeling like treating women like shit sometimes is Just A Part Of Life.

Okay wow spent like 50 minutes writing this I think these are all my thoughts, thank you for this ask!!!

[creativeashproductions]

If I Stay Part One // Luke Patterson

Summary: A beautiful day Luke visits a record store to relive the times he would buy an album, but he finds more than memories. He meets you and a connection blossoms between you two and then Reggie and Alex as well. All is well until Julie discovers something.

Warning: Swearing, talk of death and car accident!

Words: 2.6k

A/N: This is based off the movie If I Stay and the movie Charlie St. Cloud. Sorry for not posting sooner, my sister in law along with my three nieces were in a car accident. Thankfully the kids are okay but my sister-in-law in currently in hospital due to minor injuries thus far.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

So, Julie’s life changed dramatically in the lost year and few months, firstly her family lost their mother. Secondly, Julie’s love for music faded until the melody and lyrics were haunting memories. Thirdly, after losing her place in the music program, she had to question her sanity. For in her garage lived three teenage ghosts to her disbelief and horror quite frankly; the ghosts grew on her so much she was in a band with them.

In the hours that Julie was attending school, the boys tended to tour the entire city. They enjoyed seeing the changes that had happened for the two and a half decades. Reggie really enjoyed the western-themed stores, even scaring a little girl with a floating cowboy hat that disappeared once on his head. Alex adored learning about the drastic changes within in the LGBTQ+ community, he had plans for when 2021 LA Pride came in June. Luke, of course, would go anywhere that had music such as music stores, record stores, concert venues and even followed a rock legend once.

“Ooh.” A voice spoke in the record store, “This would be the perfect gift.”

Luke turned to see you gazing at the Rock N’ Roll records with a passion in your eyes and an adorable smile that melted his heart. He couldn’t help but walk closer even if he had no clue if you could see him or not.

“Def Leppard? Definitely one of my favourite bands.” Luke spoke anticipating the usual one-sided conversation. His speculation shattered when you turned to face him with big eyes, “You can see me.”

You nodded your head, pushing your hands into your faded blue jeans glancing around the store, hoping the owner didn’t notice. To your relief the man was oblivious, Luke glanced over before stepping closer.

 “You’re alive?”

“Mhm.” You spoke, removing a single hand to play with your burgundy jacket that cinched at the waist to give form. It was open to reveal a plain black shirt that left an inch of your midsection free, “I always wondered if ghosts were real. I got my answer.”

“This is so cool! My friend is the only person that can see my friends and me.” The grin was breathtaking on the teenage ghost. There was a connection between the two that was immediate and intense.

“At least you’re not alone.” You supplied turning to pick up the record, turning it around to read the tracklist. In the end, you decided you didn’t feel like buying it, replacing it you started for the front door.

A college-aged person walked in glued to the screen of the phone not replying as you mentioned a thank you before the door closed. Luke rushed to follow your steady pace in black hiking boots.

“Where are you going?” Luke questioned coming to the same stride as the girl that had taken his attention quickly. His interest had grown when he found he could hold a conversation with her.

“It’s a nice day. I thought I would go for a walk.” You replied, stopping to look around the street with curious eyes. Luke yearned for those eyes to look in his again because he swore he saw a galaxy in them, “Would you like to join me?”

Luke’s head was nodding in response with a new pep in his step as you walked down the street filled with all different kind of stores. Luke recognized Family Living Grocery store as the one that the Molina got their groceries, he and the guys had joined Julie on a trip once. It was one of his worst memories as a ghost, surrounded by snacks and food he couldn’t indulge in.

“So, what’s your story, Caspar?” You questioned stopping to look as at a beautiful dollhouse, “My cousin had one. We actually renovated it a while back for her unborn niece.”

“Caspar?” Luke teased, watching the nostalgia faded from your expression as you continued on the walk. His hazel eyes, greener at the moment, glittered at the different banter he had with you than the guys or Julie.

“Well, I don’t know your name!” You exclaimed turning the corner at a parlour with gorgeous stencilled artwork on the glass.

“Luke. My name is Luke. Hey! I know this shop!” Luke beamed, stepping back to take in the storefront. In the twenty-five years since he last saw it, the blue faded into a teal, but the door was still the same as it always was.

“You have a tattoo?” You asked, scanning his arms bare in the cut off shirt he wore. You couldn’t see any ink on his skin. Luke couldn’t help the smirk on his face at the blatant heated gaze.

“No. It was 1994. We just played our biggest gig at the time, and Bobby decided we should get tattoos.” Luke’s mouth twisted at the mention of his former friend, “Of course we were sixteen and Alex just about fainted in the shop. The guy took one look at Reggie and laughed at our fake IDs. Told us to come back in a few years.”

One of the few memories that weren’t tainted by the betrayal that Trevor Wilson had gone on to do a year after the tattoo fiasco. It was more than not being credited or his songs being stolen, but it was also that someone he wholeheartedly trusted turned his back on them. Luke frankly didn’t care how Bobby coped after that fateful night. Still, he changed his name and refused any mention of his previous music experience. That hurt a lot.

“So, you’re a ’90s kid.” You raised an eyebrow coming to a stop on the edge of the street, pressing the button to cross.

“Technically a ’70s kid. We died in ’95 a few hours before a life-changing gig.” The mood turned sombre as Luke thought back on that one night that life decided to raise both middle fingers at his dreams, “Death by a hot dog.”

The snicker fell from your mouth before you do anything about it but sobered up quickly in the view of his painful admittance.

“So, you’re seventeen?” You asked crossing when the crosswalk light flickered on. Your attention focused on crossing while listening to the teenager.

“Forever seventeen but I would eighteen physically, but if I had survived I would be forty-three.” Luke mused shoving his hands into his staple black jeans with the chains and his constant accessory of a blue rabbit’s foot.

“Oh, damn. I’ve seventeen as well.” You replied dodging pedestrians before humming a to a song you had heard recently but where you did was unknown. You didn’t want to bump into anyone.

Luke glanced down at his watch, somehow even in death it worked, noticing that it was around the time rehearsal would commence. The thought barely ended before a flash of light preceded Alex’s presence. You slightly jumped in response.

“Luke! Julie’s wondering where you are. We have rehearsal.” Alex was surprised that Luke wasn’t already at the studio. He was always the first one holding his guitar for the rest of them.

One glance at the girl beside Luke cemented a reason for his tardiness. Alex could see that you were the reason and a pretty reason too. Alex wished he had your jacket with such a beautiful colour, but the music was more important.

“Oh, man!” Luke panicked fearing that being late would cause Julie to leave the band after the whole school dance fiasco.

“So, Luke. I like your name by the way. I’m Y/N.” You greeted holding back from offering you a hand, your theory would have been proven correct. Ghosts can’t touch other people, all the movies portrayed that.

“Nice to meet you! I’ll find you soon!” Luke shouted seconds before Alex poofed them both away with a single hand on his bandmate’s shoulder.

A content smile appeared before you continued on your way, unaware of the lack of acknowledgement from people on the street.

The next few days, Luke would find you either in the record store or just out front during his free time. He hadn’t realized how lonely he was touring the music entertainment spots until he had your company. Soon you were joined by Alex and Reggie every once in a while.

The three were planning outings with their new lifer friend as Julie grabbed her songbook from her room. She was amused when the three wouldn’t shut up.

“What are you planning?” Julie questioned scanning their animated expressions, even taking in the slight change in Alex’s appearance.

Alex had a braided bracelet of the rainbow on his left wrist that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday. He even seemed calmer and less anxious, as well.

“What happened to Alex?” Julie questioned with a small smirk, “Did you bump into Willie?”

Alex shook his head, “No, Luke met this girl at a record store and then Reggie and I met her. She’s cool! There’s this app she showed us, and it had videos of anything you could imagine!”

Julie’s teasing smile faltered at the mention of Luke meeting someone before it returned once more. She pushed the feeling away as this girl had brought peace to the drummer.

“What’s her name?” Julie asked, pushing the songbook away to listen intently to the new piece of the boys’ afterlife. The three burst into stories of the girl.

“She took me to this cool place nearby where people store their horses!” Reggie burst out, clapping his head, “I already have a country song started! This is so a hit single for our future country album!”

Alex only released an exasperated sigh at Reggie’s idea that he voiced every single day since the beginning of the band. Luke was just used to finding sheets of songs from Reggie around the studio and often his songbook too.

“She also brought me a bag of clothing she had in her house that she let me go through. Apparently, her house is the place where cousins take their old clothing.” Alex supplied striking a pose in his new white sweater with a rainbow logo on the front.

Julie grinned at the positivity radiating off the two boys.

“Is she a ghost?”

Luke shook his head, “No. She’s alive.”

A spark of happiness flits itself inside of Julie before it dissipated because Flynn had already gently let the girl down about Luke.

“What’s her name! I’m gonna find her Instagram!” Julie took out her phone waiting as Alex supplied her the name. Her thumbs froze before she could type staring down at the black screen.

The name was familiar.

Laying on a bed on San Pablo Street was a girl with her eyes closed and a serene expression. This bed wasn’t just any bed in a home. Instead, this bed was one no one wished to be in. A bed with machines surrounding and right in the middle of those machines was Y/N.

The very girl that had met Luke, Reggie and Alex were in fact in the ICU of a hospital recovering in a coma.

“Why do you look like that?” Luke demanded as the colour drained from the lead singer of their band.

“Are you sure it was Y/N Y/L/N?” Julie gulped dread filling her veins as each boy nodded their head and the girl slumped, “I go to school with her. The thing is she’s been in a coma for two weeks now.”

You were outside the record store once more as the three ghosts appeared in front of you each looking the worst you had ever seen them.

“Did you lie?” Luke questioned stepping closer to the teenage girl that furrowed her brows in confusion, “You said that you are alive. Why did you lie?”

“Lie?” You asked, taking a step back from the odd energy the boys had. A look of distraught on each face, “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you here every day at this exact time. Never late, never early.” Alex questioned sick to his stomach as your brows came together.

“I- walk…” You trailed off thinking of the last week in deep thought paling as you had no recollection of going home or getting to the store. It was like you blacked out each time.

Actually, the last time you remember not being with the guys or at the store was two weeks ago.

“I don’t re…member.” You whispered, “I haven’t seen my family since…oh my god.”

Luke stepped closer, terrified as he reached out, hoping with his entire being his hand would go through you. It didn’t. Luke’s hand rested on your arm, still wearing that burgundy jacket. Your eyes flickered between his solid hand and the same outfit you wore for weeks now. Why would you be wearing a jacket and hiking boots in Los Angeles?

“My cousin had been saving up for a trip for her eighteenth birthday. She wanted to go skiing, so we split the cost between our families.”

As if a wall broke, you realized with horror that the college boy that hadn’t held the for you like you first thought. He hadn’t seen or heard you because in his world you weren’t there. No one had acknowledged you because they couldn’t see you just like they couldn’t see Luke.

“What else do you remember?” Reggie spoke up next, noticing that Luke was getting more upset. His eyes going so light the green appeared to be blue and glittered with tears and his heart dropping.

“My parents, my cousin and I were driving up the mountain in the rented car. There-“

Two Weeks Ago

Your head leaned again Lou’s head sharing the headphones connected to your phone blasting the carefully curated playlist. Lou had been living with your parents and you the last six months as her parents were travelling for work. It was a dream because she was like a sister already and vice versa; Lou as a surprise baby with her older sister being ten years older.

“We haven’t been to the slopes since we first got married.” Dad said glancing over at your mother in the passenger seat, “Didn’t we conceive-“

“Dad! Gross!” You shouted, wrinkling your nose as he glanced in the rear-view mirror to smile at your antics. Your mother’s laugh was probably one of your most favourite sounds in the world, it was warm like hot chocolate on a cold day.

“Did you see that video of the hologram band?” Lou asked, not paying attention to your family’s antics, “It’s super cool.”

“We still have half of our playlist to go through. You should show me when we get to the cabin.” You replied, “We could put it on the projector with the others.”

The others being your extended family, including the surprise of Lou’s parents. Your mother pointed out the snow on the mountain gaining everyone’s attention. It was beautiful compared to sunny Los Angeles.

Lou’s thumb was just about to click the video of Julie and the Phantoms against your wishes. You felt the fear before the yell, snapping your head up you watched as a pickup truck hit ice swerving into your lane. The screech of tires preceded the crunch of the vehicles hitting each other. Throughout the surrounding area, the echoes of the crash bounced off the mountains scaring birds away. Miraculously Lou’s phone survived the crash and played the electric video of ‘Edge of Great’ by Julie and the Phantoms. A song you would hum under your breath during your walks meeting the guys.

The snow turned red under four of five bodies. You lay nonconscious a stark difference in the burgundy jacket and black shirt you had painstakingly chosen that morning.

If I Stay Part Two (Final)

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[thedeathdeelers]

my definitely not late addition to @jukebox-week’s Legends day

please enjoy

——

look ‘ma, we made it (read here on AO3)

“Julie and the Phantoms!”

Cheers erupt around them as Julie stares dumbstruck at Luke, his eyes trained on hers.

She could feel her dad’s hands descending onto her shoulders, feel Carlos hollering to her left, and still she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

It was only when Luke’s frozen features start to melt into a grin did she feel her own face twitching back to life.

A scuffle next to them diverts her attention for a few minutes, shifting her gaze to watch the two other members of their band get swept up by the realisation of what just happened.

“WE DID IT!!”

Reggie was jumping up and down behind their table, reaching forward to pull and drag their semi-stunned blond bandmate out of his chair.

“We- we- we,” were the only words stuttering out of Alex as he let a bouncing Reggie tackle him in a bear hug.

Two soft hands cradling her neck bring her focus back to Luke, his grin engulfing the bottom half of his face.

“We really did it,” he says, his words barely audible over the raucous cheering around the venue.

Julie shakes her head, half in wonder half in disbelief.

“Should probably head up there before they change their minds, ya?”

She laughs at his words before she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling herself tight against him, her face burrowing in his neck.

Not a moment later does Reggie take advantage of their hug, jumping on top of them, while simultaneously dragging Alex along, successfully creating a mini-Julie and the Phantoms dog pile right in the middle of the Awards show. Amongst the groans and giggles, Julie manages to catch Luke’s eye one more time before their families break up the moment, urging them to get a move on and head towards the stage.

Her hand clasped in Luke’s calloused one, they make their way towards the stage, only stopping at the bottom of the stairs so Julie can lift her dress up over her high heels. But before she can even lift her foot onto the first step, Luke slips his hand out of hers, scooping her up into his arms a second later to carry her up the stairs, bridal style.

She yelps at the sudden movement, disoriented by the lack of solid ground beneath her feet. She hastily throws her arms around Luke’s neck, firmly locking them into place. The sound of laughter and cheering from the crowd echoes behind them and Julie can’t help but laugh at the sheer insanity of the moment she’s experiencing. Choosing to focus on Luke’s face to ground herself, she sees his eyes flick to her face and away.

“Show off,” she mutters at his smug expression.

While his eyes are trained on the steps ahead of them, Julie pulls herself closer to his cheek and presses a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. She can feel the sly smile taking over her features when his steps falter for a millisecond, his arms pulling her just a little tighter against him.

Once they reach the top of the stairs, Luke eases her back into a standing position, helping her fluff her dress back into a state resembling its original shape. Flynn was going to kill them.

Slipping her hand back into his, Julie gently pulls Luke along as they stumble a little to catch up to Reggie and Alex who were already walking towards the hosts waiting for them by the podium.

Reggie is the first one to reach centre stage, graciously accepting the much coveted Album of the Year award and hoisting it into the air to the sounds of wild cheering from all sides of the concert hall. Sneaking up behind their bassist, Alex surges forward and easily snatches the Grammy from Reggie’s hands, earning him a laugh from the audience (and a disgruntled whine from his bandmate) before he hands it over to Luke.

She watches as he stares at it dumbfounded, holding it close to his face to read the inscription on its plaque. He spends all of five seconds before Alex nudges him back into motion. He turns to Julie with a sheepish smile, finally handing it over to her. Julie knows she doesn’t have time to appreciate the heavy weight in her hand, so she grabs it and turns to the microphone jutting out of the podium.

The next few minutes are a whirlwind. The band had agreed beforehand that they would let Julie do most of the talking, making sure to thank everyone from family to friends to Andi and the label and their touring crew. The boys chimed in with extra names left and right, which only got the crowd laughing along at the chaos.

“I’d like to personally thank Principal Lessa, who without her, I’m not entirely sure I would’ve ever made it to this stage of my career. Our career. She believed in me and gave me a chance when it looked like I had wasted every single one, pushing me to work harder than I ever had before.” Julie takes a deep breath, knowing the next and final person she was about to thank would be the hardest.

“And last, but definitely not least, I’d like to thank my mom.” She feels a hand press up against her lower back, and she feels a little of the tension that had built up ease a little at the familiar touch. “She is the soul in everything I do, whether it’s being kind to strangers even when they prove to be difficult, to the very lyrics and melodies that we put into our songs for everyone to experience along with us. She is the reason I am here today, surrounded by my family,” she gestures to her boys as Alex and Reggie reach over to hold onto her shoulders with a light squeeze. “She is the reason music is a part of me and I will forever be grateful for everything she has given me, everything she ever taught me.” A soft watery giggle escapes her. “Miracles really do happen,” she shrugs at the audience.

Julie hears Luke chuckle at her words to her left along with everyone else. She takes in a deep shuddering breath before letting a small laugh makes its way out of her to ease her into the moment. “Te quiero mucho, mami. This is for you.”

The telltale sound signalling the end of their slot blares through the speakers as applause from their live audience roars into life once more. Julie steps back from the podium as she holds onto their Grammy, lifting it up for the crowd to see before she turns around to head off-stage.

What she sees behind her stops her dead in her tracks.

Because there, right in the centre of the stage for everyone to see, Luke, Alex and Reggie were getting into position to do a move she hadn’t seen them do since they had gotten their first Orpheum gig all those years ago.

This time though it was Luke running towards a kneeling Reggie, while Alex stood behind him arms outstretched as they got ready to hoist him up into the air, his arms spread wide.

Julie had to admit, It was surreal seeing them do this in their tailored suits.

The laugh bursts out of her at the thought, her hand automatically coming up to cover her mouth. She can see the hosts to their right getting worried, the technicians behind the curtains frantically speaking into their headsets.

But all Julie can do, all she wants to do, is divert her attention back to her band mates and fondly watch them as they celebrate this triumphant moment in a way that is authentically theirs.

She stares as Luke starts waving his arms around, pushing forward as if he was swimming the breaststroke midair, with Alex and Reggie slowly carrying him forward in her direction. Julie stays where she is as she watches them approaching, tilting her head to the side and waiting to see what they had in store - this was a new, never before seen part of their strange choreography - she wasn’t sure what to expect. She doesn’t have to wait too long to find out.

Within a few seconds they were standing in front of her, Luke‘s face only a few inches away as he reaches forward, cradling her face in his hands. She looks at him questioningly before he answers her unspoken question in the form of a soft kiss, pressing his lips against hers right there on stage under the blaring lights for the world to see.

She can’t help but momentarily forget about the world while his lips are on hers.

The kiss only lasts a second - she feels Luke shake a little; opening her eyes to find him staring at her as the boys holding him up start to lose their hold on him, his weight pressing down on them. He pecks her on the mouth one more time before the boys are pulling him away, moving backwards so as to drop their lead guitarist back onto the ground.

With their Grammy in one hand, Julie throws a quick wave and a bashful smile at the audience behind her, grabbing hold of a now upright Luke’s hand and pulling him along with her off stage, closely followed by Alex and Reggie.

They stumble backstage, barely enough time to catch their breaths before getting swarmed by people in headsets ushering them towards their next media stop.

But right as they’re about to cross the threshold separating them from a roomful of flashing lights and shouted questions, Luke pulls at Julie’s hand. She stops, looking back to find all three of her boys staring at each other as they take a second to take in...well, everything.

“We- that just happened right? I’m not dreaming?” Alex is quick to turn towards their bassist and pinch his arm, watching him yelp out loud, jumping out of his reach as he rubbed his arm.

“What was that for?!”

“No, we’re definitely not dreaming.” Alex shakes his head, still in a daze as Luke laughs at his best friends’ antics. He momentarily lets go of Julie’s hand, moving to stand in between his two best friends, draping his arms over their shoulders, pulling them in.

“We’re Grammy Award winners boys. We made it.”He squeezes his arms, pulling both boys closer to him to the sounds of whines before letting go. He then turns his head over to Julie, his gaze on her as his grin widens, lighting up the room.

A noise down the hall interrupts their little moment, with all four of them swivelling their heads in its direction.

“Julie And the Phantoms, the press is waiting for you. If you could please head in, we have five minutes of question time and then it’s back to your seats for the next award category. Thank you.”

The staff member doesn’t even give them a chance to reply as they turn right back around, talking a mile a minute into their headset.

The boys all turn to look at Julie as she stares back at them in wonder.

“This is really it huh?”

All three nod their heads back at her.

“Yup.” Reggie states, emphasising his answer by popping the p while he absentmindedly rubbed at his arm again.

“Well then - let’s not keeping them waiting, shall we?”

Julie rolls her eyes at a smirking Luke before placing her hand in the space between them.

“Legends on three. One, two, LEGENDS!”

FIN