#i guarantee you if they go with the live vocals it will sound worse than it could have in a booth. that’s just a fact

[jellicle-chants]

New pet peeve: the people saying Wicked’s live singing recordings can’t possibly be as bad as in Cats 2019 “because they have people who can actually sing 🤪”

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Shepard Angst Fic

Y'all are getting this here before I edit it and post it on ao3 tomorrow because I am desperate for external validation and because I NEED folks to cry over my self imposed Shepard sibling angst.

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“Angel!”

Angela Shepard is no stranger to yelling. The name Shepard carries with it the guarantee of a temper hotter than the late Autumn sun and the vocal cords to make sure the whole street knows it. Ma is only ever happy when she’s hacked off, Curly has never once been quiet for longer than three seconds back to back, and she herself wears fury like socy girls wear their hair ribbons. 

So yes, she’s no stranger to yelling– but she ain’t never heard Curly yell like that. He doesn’t sound mad, he sounds scared– and that is infinitely worse. There isn’t a lot that scares Curly Shepard, or any Shepard really. They’ve all seen too much.

“Goddamnit Angel,” Curly roars again, “get out here and bring the first aid kit!”

That spurs her to action and she snatches the small first aid kit out from under the bathroom sink and hightails it to the living room.

Curly is there, wide eyed, Tim propped up against him. For a second Angela doesn’t realize what the problem is. When she does, her brain refuses to let her believe it.

A dark stain is spreading rapidly across the side of Tim’s shirt, even as Curly half drags half carries him over to the couch and deposits him on it as gently as he can. Despite how careful Curly’s being, a pained grunt still forces its way out from between Tim’s clenched teeth.

“Call Manuel,” Curly orders, naming Tim’s second in command, “get him to bring the truck back now and be ready to drive. And get Sylvia down here too.”

Running to the kitchen, she dials Manuel’s home number and hurriedly explains the situation, cold terror making her harsher than usual. She doesn’t bother trying to get ahold of Sylvia- Sylvie knows everything that happens on the east side, she’s probably already on her way.

“What happened?” She demands as soon as she gets back to the living room. Curly’s hands are slippery with blood and he’s got a wad of rapidly reddening gauze pressed tightly against the wound in Tim’s stomach. Her older brother’s face is twisted in pain, his breathing even more laboured than it was a minute ago, tight gasps forcing themselves out from behind clenched teeth.

She’s seen knife wounds before, of course she has. Connor Tyrril from the Brumly gang had died from an infected knife wound last year, and Tim and even Curly had been sliced before, long gashes that eventually faded into rough scars– but never anything like this. The slashes they’d sustained in the past were meant to hurt, but this wound was very specifically meant to kill. 

She doesn’t know what to do. 

“Who did it?” She demands, hands fluttering uselessly. Curly seems to have a handle on what to do, his wide eyes at odds with his steady hands, counting under his breath as he applies pressure, but Angela doesn’t have a clue how to help and isn’t even sure that she can. “What happened?”

“A few of the boys from Tiber street apparently weren’t too fond of Tim’s latest shipment,” Curly explains, pressing a new piece of gauze over the others, already soaked through with blood. 

“Names Carlos.”

“Dustin Blackwell and Ian Forrester. Tried to fight ‘em off but they had about seven buddies backing ‘em.”

“They’re dead.” Angela vows, horrified to feel the way her eyes are stinging. She means it too. If anything happens to Tim those assholes are dead, juvie and jail and records be damned. The steely look buried under the panic in Curly’s eyes tells her he agrees.

Tim groans, despite how hard Angela can tell he’s trying to hold it back, and Curly stiffens, hands jerking slightly and tearing another horrible sound from Tim’s throat.

“Go see if there’s any more gauze somewhere,” he orders, pressing the last of the stuff over Tim’s wound, the fabric reddening as if by magic, “grab some of my t-shirts if you can’t find any.”

Angela runs to do as she’s bid, wishing she could do something, anything else. For all Curly is usually the last person who should be left in charge of anything, let alone any sort of crisis, right now he seems to be about the only person who knows what to do and Angela can’t help but cling to it like a lifeline. She can’t fix Tim, but she can sure as hell help Curly help him and if all she can do is grab t-shirts, you can best believe she’ll grab the whole stack in her drawer and Curly’s too.

She can’t have been gone more than thirty seconds but Tim is noticeably worse when she returns, sweat beading on his forehead, his skin looking closer to grey than its usual light brown. 

“Hold this for me,” Curly nods to the wad of gauze he’s pressing on with both hands, “don’t worry about hurtin’ him, just press as hard as you can. I’m gonna check his pulse.”

Tim lets out an almost inhuman scream the second she touches him, and it’s almost enough to have her jerk away and apologize if that wouldn’t render the whole thing useless. Curly waits until Angela’s hands are pressing hard beside his before he deigns to move one away, deftly pressing two fingers under Tim’s neck with one hand, counting under his breath. It seems like a long time before he stops counting even though the clock says it wasn’t more than a minute, and the tightness in his jaw belies his anxiety. 

Not good then- or getting worse.

“Well?” She snaps, too full of fear to know what to do with it, trying to hide behind a more familiar anger.

“It’s slow,” Curly snaps right back, her twin in soul and temperament and right now a visceral type of fear, “and gettin’ worse. He’s fucking bleeding out, Angel what’d you expect!”

“Shut up! He ain’t gonna bleed out! Shut up!”

Curly glares a second longer before his mask slips just a bit and she sees herself in his blue eyes. For a second they’re three years old again and Tim is in the reformatory and they’re both so hungry and alone and scared it feels like nothing will ever be okay again. Then she blinks, and Curly’s jaw tightens, and they’re back to now, in a no less horrible present.

“Damnit,” Curly snarls, but his voice breaks, “where the fuck is Manuel?”

“Quit arguin’” Tim speaks for the first time since Curly dragged him in and Angela could sob. His voice is the same gruff bark it’s always been, just as steady as it always is despite his laboured breathing, even as his lean form has started to shake uncontrollably under her hands, making it hard to keep the gauze and now one of her own t-shirts pressed against his wound, “and listen’ to me.”

Curly watches him with wide eyes, forever in awe, the way he’s always been, always willing to follow Tim anywhere, even off a cliff. Of course, Angela can't exactly blame him when she’s the exact same way.

“L-listen,” Tim repeats, his black eyes shining with an emotion Angela can’t place, and she is listening because its Tim talking and he always knows what to do. He’s going to tell them what to do and he’s going to be okay. They’ll do what he says and everything will be fine. “Listen.”

He swallows, grimacing as he lets out another strained breath before his sharp eyes focus on them again. 

“You’re good kids,” he says, fierce, so fierce, and Angela blinks because that isn’t right, it isn’t a plan, it isn’t a way to fix this. And it isn’t even true. She and Curly are about as far from good kids as it’s possible to be.

“You’re good kids,” Tim repeats with conviction, like he can hear what she’s thinking, “don’t let nobody tell you otherwise, savvy? I’m damn proud of you. Both of you.”

“Tim-”

“Good kids,” His eyes have taken on an almost glassy quality, “My kids.”

His entire body goes limp. Angela screams.

Manuel chooses that exact moment to burst through the door, Sylvia on his heels, and there's no time, no time for anything anymore except for Curly to grab Tim’s shoulders and Manuel grab his feet, and Angela try to keep pressure on that fucking stab wound all the way to the truck and then to the hospital until a team of nurses rolls Tim away on a gurney. Even then, the only reason they manage it is because Sylvia and Curly both half drag her away.

“Let go, I’m goin’ with him!”

“You can’t.” Sylvia’s voice cuts like a blade. “They ain’t gonna let you in the operation’ room Angel, so quit havin’ a fit and come sit in the waitin’ room.”

“Shepards stick together.” Angela turns to Curly for support but Curly doesn’t seem to be all here right now, staring vacantly into space and trembling like a leaf. “Right Curls?”

“C’mon,'' Sylvia shakes her head when Curly doesn’t answer, “We aren’t doin’ much good for ol’ Timmy in this parking lot, and we won’t do much more in the waitin’ room but at least there’ll be a place to sit.”

Unable to argue, Angela follows Sylvia inside, Curly trailing dreamlike after them, and they sit in the waiting room and do just that: wait. Manuel had left as soon as the doctors got Tim inside so he isn’t there with them, but Angela can’t find it in herself to care. Tim runs a gang, not a family. Manuel knows that as well as any of them.

Angela squeezes her hands into fists to stop the tremble in her fingers. Wonders how Sylvia can still be so unfeeling when her best friend has just been stabbed. Decides she doesn’t care. Watches as Curly slowly returns to himself, pulling out a cigarette and offering her one. They both pretend it’ll stop their hands from shaking. They’re both wrong.

She wants to do something. To start a fight or cause a problem, maybe kick up a fuss in the food court or swear at a nurse, do something to assuage the fear and the anger burning it’s way through her chest, do anything that isn’t just sit here and wait.

You’re good kids, Tim’s words echo in her head every time she’s about to get up and do something, keeping her rooted to the stupid plastic chair, doomed seemingly forever to the horrific purgatory of the waiting room. She isn’t a good kid, but Tim thinks she is, so she can be, at least for now, at least until she knows he’s okay.

“Anyone here for Timothy Shepard?”

Angela’s on her feet immediately, Curly at her side. Sylvia rises more languidly to face the woman at the nurses station, cool as ever.

“I don’t have any news yet,” the nurse says apologetically, seeing Angela and Curly’s tense faces, “I’m sorry. I just need someone to fill out the intake forms. Is he a minor?”

For a second Angela hates the warm faced woman more than she’s ever hated anyone.

“He’s eighteen,” Sylvia strolls forward, reaching a manicured hand towards the woman’s clipboard, “I’ll fill it out.”

The nurse starts to hand the clipboard to her, then freezes. “Um, I’m only supposed to give it to an emergency contact…”

“I’m his wife,” Sylvia lies smoothly, “you ain’t gonna keep me from seein’ my husband. I doubt he’s even got anyone listed considerin’ we only recently got hitched.”

The nurse checks the chart again. 

“What’d you say your name was?”

“Sylvia Shepard. Maiden name Devares.”

“Well it’s true he ain’t got anyone listed…” Angela can see the nurse crumbling, “I don’t suppose you got your marriage licence with you?”

“‘Course I do,” Sylvia reaches into her cleavage and pulls out the forged marriage certificate Curly had made a few months back when Sylvia needed Tim’s help opening a bank account, “there, see?”

The nurse glances at it and finally passes over the clipboard. 

“My apologies Mrs. Shepard.”

Angela winces. Sylvia is many things, but she ain’t a Shepard, and she sure as shit ain’t Tim’s wife. Still, the charade has worked wonders in the past, and it’s working wonders again now.

“Thanks.” Sylvia offers her a perfunctory smile and turns on her heel, strutting back to her seat, Angela and Curly trailing behind.

“What’s takin’ so long?” Curly mutters to her, while Sylvia purses her lips, flipping through the forms, “we’ve been here an hour. How’s he still in surgery?”

Angela doesn’t know, so she doesn’t answer.

They wait.

Sylvia finishes filling the pages with her chicken scratch handwriting and returns them to the nurses desk. An ambulance arrives with some broad sporting a gunshot wound. Nurses bustle, doctors hustle, people come in and out of the waiting room, and still, they are not called.

Curly’s knee bounces more with each passing minute. Sylvia looks so bored Angela could slap her. Something somewhere is beeping and Angela is going to lose her mind.

“Family of Timothy Shepard?”

He hates being called Timothy, is all she can think this time, when a doctor gives them a practiced sympathetic look and tells them Tim's finally out of surgery and they can see him. He says a bunch of other stuff too, but Angela doesn’t understand half of it, and she isn’t really listening anyway because they can see Tim now and everything's gonna be okay.

Then they walk into the hospital room and Angela’s world shatters.

She is used to Tim being many things- tough and smart, the type of responsible someone only becomes when you walk the fine line between being a father and a brother. She is used to his rage, the one thing he inherited from both parents, is used to the cold fury he tries to mask it with, with the almost inhuman level of self control he wields like a knife. She is used to Tim fighting, lying, cheating. To Angela, Tim has always been untouchable, larger than life. Not a hero, no, but not a villain either, instead something amorphous and not entirely human, more powerful than anyone else she knows. Now though, for the first time in years, he looks entirely, brokenly human. 

And small. That isn’t right, Tim isn’t small, has always towered over her and Curly, even now they're going on thirteen and have finally started to properly grow. 

He’s lying on a pillow, his brown skin still has that same bloodless grey tinge as earlier, even though at least two of the tubes plugged into his arm seem to be giving him more, which is good since half the blood in his body is still on the couch in their living room. Even still, what use is the hospital blood if it isn’t making him better? There’s a bag on clear fluid- what do they call that again? An IV?- in a needle beside the blood going into Tim’s arm, and a tube taped under his nose. At first Angela thought there was a sheet pulled up to his chest but when she stumbles forward she realizes with a jolt of horror that those are bandages wrapped so thoroughly and tightly around Tim’s entire chest she can hardly tell where they end and the actual sheets begin.

Somewhere, somehow, the doctor is still talking, Sylvia taking in each word with sharp eyes and looking anywhere but Tim, but Angela can’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears. Curly trembles almost imperceptibly beside her and she knows he feels it too, the horrible wrongness that hangs in the air, making this room one of nightmares.

Angela isn’t stupid. She knows she’s seen and lived through a lot of terrible things, faced horrors that most kids never dream of. Still, this has to be the worst thing that has ever happened to her.

Finally, the doctor leaves and the room is pitched into silence.

Sylvia pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one carefully, admiring the slight glow of the tip for a second before taking a long, slow drag. Only once she exhales, blowing a cloud of smoke that almost seems to fill the tiny room, does she look at Tim.

Something grim and dark settles in Sylvia’s hazel eyes, hardening more and more with each breath she watches the tube force through Tim’s lungs. The look sends a chill through Angela, a horrible itch starting at the back of her mind. Next to Tim, Angela probably knows more about Sylvia than anyone in the world, but right now she hasn’t got the slightest clue what she might be thinking. 

“Curly,” Sylvia says, in the same husky drawl as usual, disarmingly nonchalant, “you got your switch on ya?”

Curly blinks. “‘Course.”

“Give it here.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument and Curly doesn’t try to, pulling the blade from his pocket and placing it in Sylvia’s waiting palm. Manicured nails wrap around it with practiced ease and that horrible itch in the back Angela’s mind suddenly becomes painful.

“What-” the words die on her lips. She can’t bring herself to ask what Sylvia is going to do. She knows what she’s going to do. The dark haired girl has never been one to get angry, but she always, always gets even. An eye for an eye. A humiliation for a humiliation. A stab wound for a stab wound.

A life for a life.

Without another word Sylvia turns on her heel and stalks away, letting the door slam behind her.

Then it’s just Angela and Curly and the boy in the bed that is supposed to be their brother but isn’t. 

There's a horribly ugly fake leather armchair in the corner of the room Angela drags it closer to Tim’s bed and perches on the armrest, Curly half collapsing into the chair itself. 

She’d thought the waiting room was bad but this is worse, sitting beside Tim but being unable to reach him, watching him fighting a fight that for once neither she nor Curly can fight with him, no matter how much she wishes she could.

He’s going to die. 

The thought rises, unbidden, from the part of her mind that is forever young and terrified and hopeless and immediately she knows it to be true. The earth is round, the sky is blue, and her big brother is going to die.

Panic flares in her chest but the more she tries to tamp it down, to banish the thought back to the depths of wherever it came from, the more it demands to be heard.

He’s going to die. Tim is going to die and there is nothing she or Curly or this entire fucking hospital can do about it. Tim is going to die. She and Curly will lose the only real family they’ve ever had and her whole shitty life will get so much worse without anyone to take care of her. Curly will go off the rails, will end up in jail or dead too and then she will truly be entirely, unequivocally, alone.

“Angel?” Curly’s voice is plaintive, small, and she knows he feels it too, “what are we gonna do?”

She knows what he really means, what he’s really asking. She doesn’t have any answers.

Instead she reaches out a trembling hand and Curly grabs hers like a lifeline, squeezing her fingers so tight her bones creak. Angela hangs on just as tightly.

They haven’t done this in years, not since they were seven or so, have barely touched at all in the intervening years, both too used to physical contact meaning pain to ever really be comfortable touching anyone. Now though, the pressure of Curly’s hand in hers feels like the only thing tethering her to the earth. 

They stay like that, hands clasped together in a silent vigil, until Tim wakes up.

It’s neither a slow, nor a pretty process. First a machine starts beeping like crazy and then half a dozen nurses and doctors rush in and kick her and Curly out again into the hallway, but when all is said and done and they’re allowed back in the room, Tim’s black eyes are open and the breathing tube is gone from under his nose. 

Angela Shepard doesn’t believe in miracles, but in that moment it feels like she’s been granted one. Then again, she thinks, as Curly starts mouthing off in an attempt to hide the unshed tears in his eyes, Tim has been the cause of nearly every miracle she’s ever witnessed, and this one is no different.

As Tim starts to yell and Curly’s unmistakable donkey laugh fills the room  Angela can’t help but chide herself for being so stupid. Tim Shepard never lost a fight. Just because this one looked a little different didn’t make it any different.

[verbforverb]

Eurovision ranking, part two! The set of entries I have stronger opinions about. You will note this post is uh somewhat more verbose than the last.

AGAIN, PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG

Cat2: Your choices are not my choices, but I respect them

Croatia: My initial note on this was "I appreciate that they are trying to make a point which I’m sure will be clearer when I can look up the translation but also this is, sort of, 4 different songs in one, and not in a good way." And I still stand by all of that. Love the energy! Love the mood! Parts of it are even catchy! Unfortunately, do not actually enjoy the experience of listening to this song.

Finland: This has grown on me more than I expected. I still wouldn't say I like it, but I don't mind it as much as I thought I did, the live performance is extremely compelling, and I do at least respect its choices. While I wouldn't seek it out, but it's definitely not forgettable, and I could see myself liking it eventually, maybe. But whichever way it definitely brings a certain something to Eurovision.

Ukraine: I am so close to liking this song. It's got that Bond energy, momentum, lyrically I've certainly heard worse. But the synth is just a bit grating to me still. There are also several parts where I swear it sounds like a Wilhelm scream, extremely distracting.

Israel: On first listen, the hysteria set in somewhere around the first "power of the UNICORN" and did not let up at any subsequent point. What IS the power of the unicorn? The first thing that comes to mind is the power of being an attractive young bi woman who is happy to be a no-strings third in an otherwise straight relationship. For all I know that IS what she means, it certainly adds another element to the song if so. I loathe the attempt to make "femininal" happen like few other things in this competition and resent this song for making me hear it multiple times. Musically it's all over the place, it feels like at least two and maybe three different songs trying to be one thing. And yet. AND YET. It is catchy! Noa Kirel blows the performance out the goddamn water! I guarantee I will not forget about any element of it, not for want of trying! Makes no goddamn sense. Compels me though.

Spain: So I do get the appeal. The layering of the sounds, the repeated lines, the almost sampled-sounding chanting which is a cool effect. Maybe this just needs longer to grow on me. For whatever reason, probably a large part underexposure to the style, I find this hard to listen to. Which is a shame, because it's the most interesting thing Spain has entered in years.

Serbia: I want to like this so bad. I love the aesthetics, the energy, the ridiculous 90s video game synth intro, and I can get behind what it's going for, thematically. Unfortunately I cannot deny the experience of my ears, and I do not like listening to this song. But I very much appreciate its existence!

And finally, Cat1: songs I feel positively about! With an actual ranking!

15 Cyprus: This would have faded into the mush of broadly-forgettable Eurovision ballads for me if it had not been extremely, inescapably reminiscent of Britney Spears' If You Seek Amy. But, like, a lounge version intended for background listening in a fancy restaurant. Once heard, this cannot be unheard, and that definitely gives the whole experience a certain indescribable something, the only reason I've ranked it so high.

14 Romania: Unfortunately there was no way to divorce this song from what I watched in the national final. This is a real shame, because I like this song! It's a jazzy waltz, we never get those, it has drama and range, and the guy can pull it off, vocally! In another universe I could see this making my top 10. Unfortunately, this is the world that we live in, and it contains... that whole situation.

13 Czechia: This was so close to being in the "I don't like it, but I do respect it" category, but you know what? I do sort of like it! The spoken word / chanting is just about on the right side of annoying for me, and you can't deny it is memorable. And you have to have a deranged song about feminism and/or national solidarity from central europe, it's the rule.

12 Poland: LOOK. I am not immune to a thirst trap bop. Is this song and its background as an entry ridiculous in all ways? Yes, absolutely. It's still stuck in my head now and forever. Plus I find the "VISIT POLAND. WE HAVE SWIMMING POOLS AND HOT GIRLS AND... FRUIT" music video extremely funny.

11 Slovenia: I'm not saying this is good. But I am saying a solid chunk of the foundations for my music taste were 00s pop rock, and this is a pitch perfect example. In Slovenian. It's upbeat! It's catchy! It's got a drop! If the lyrics are bad I can't tell! Just a fun time all round.

10 Moldova: Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you just want to go apeshit? God I love a good flute/whistle line. Sometimes you are creeping through the woods towards a giant bonfire circled by sillhouetted dancing shapes, human? more than human, or perhaps just somewhere off to the side? you are unseen yet all-seeing, and you crave the perfect soundtrack to that moment, and you know what? Moldova have you covered.

9 Belgium: This is great fun, it's got those synthy disco vibes, and it's lyrically touching as well. A bit of a dark horse in that it's crept up my rankings every time I've listened to it. It's just a little too one-note - not a unique problem for Eurovision songs, but to me it kinda feels like listening to the same song two or three times in a row.

8 Norway: Sometimes, a song can just be a good bass drop and a fun hook. It's not clever, but it is absolutely a good time. Similar to Belgium, it just doesn't do quite enough to climb higher - feels a bit repetitive - but what it has is very pleasing.

7 Sweden: I do fully enjoy most things about this song. The tune is good, love the synth, Loreen is a fantastic performer and I'm here for any staging which can be described as "surprise! you lift up a paving stone and discover a eurovision performance". There's just one problem, which is that it occasionally falls back on the most godawful rhyming, and then hits it as hard as possible complete with musical emphasis and pauses. Like, first listen, "It will come a - day, when we will find our ..." "don't say way" "WAY". And then by some combination of singing style or mixing choice those rhymes were all I could make out at first, like "mumblemumble PAIN mumblemumble RAIN mumble YOUUU mumble TATTOOO", and, just, infuriating. It's a real shame because I really do like everything else about the song but those bits are so incredibly distracting. The only other note I have is that the repeated "all I care about is love" just makes me think of the song from Chicago, which is a VERY different vibe.

6 Portugal: Love the energy, love the high-tempo cabaret feel, catchy as hell, and god, what a performance! I don't know whether to be impressed, terrified or both. The only place it falls down for me is that it just doesn't lend itself, really, to humming or singing along, because it is SO high energy and high range in every sense. Instead I'm just sort of watching open-mouthed, so the song itself doesn't stick with me the way some of the more conventional entries do. But without doubt a great entry.

5 Australia: First things first: it is incredibly weird to me that I managed to straight up forget these guys existed after listening to their music quite a bit some 8 years ago. I do like them! And this! They have this crisp progmetal sound that really works for me, and you always have to love a keytar. Add to that, I think these guys can pull off a performance, god knows they've been hyping up crowds for long enough. My only complaint aside from the harsh vocals (see also germany - why?? you can do metal without them! they won't take away your hardcore card!!) is that repeatedly asking "have you ever done anything like this before?" completely out of context - and not given more context that I noticed - is one of the most baffling ways they could have chosen to open the song, and mostly makes me want to yell "like WHAT, voyager? anything like WHAT?" But that's a detail.

4 UK: To anyone accusing me of pro-UK bias, I would say that this year and the previous year are the only times in the past decade, or maybe more, I would have ranked us above the bottom 5. I would not go so far as to say this year's entry was worth the wait, or worth having had to know that Teenage Life exists, but I do love it a lot. It's a bop! A minor key bop! It's catchy! It has deranged energy! It's got an inexplicably London spoken word bit that I even think adds to the song! Ranked only on craft, it wouldn't make the top 10, but on sheer enjoyment I have to have it up here.

3 Austria: When we first listened to this, I was making noises about how it was just kind of a meme, while my wife was fully into it, proving that ultimately she is right about all things. This has grown on me so, so much to the point where I love it both as a song and a meme, and we do just occasionally say to each other in the worst attempt at an american accent imaginable, "who the hell is EDGAR?". It's catchy, funny, it has a great synth line and it's about creative control and reward in the music industry! What more could you want? No idea how this will play on stage, but I'm officially a fan.

2 France: Ough. The moment I saw this I said "that's @docholligay bait" and you know what, I don't even care because it's fantastic. The confidence? The voice? The BASS? It's simple, elegant, and it could not possibly be more French if she was holding a baguette and smoking four cigarettes simultaneously. Even the fact that she's Canadian adds to this, because there's somehow something even more French about leaning into it all so hard despite not actually being from France.

1: Germany: You knew it was coming. Germany has hosted the biggest metal festival in the world for over 30 years, and is just now thinking "hmmm, we could send some metal to Eurovision." It was worth waiting for. This is maybe the only time I've ever been pleased Germany will auto qualify, because I do NOT think this will play well with the general public, but I love it.

Brief interlude while I'm a nerd: extremely Nightwish-esque instrumentals - to the extent that I spent the first two listens just trying to figure out which song the instrumental line reminded me of, maybe Bye Bye Beautiful or Storytime? - with the crisp vocals. I don't love the harsh vocal parts, but they're a minor enough part of it that I can deal. Lyrically excellent, love a song about the duality of humanity and the ways people choose who to be and how to act from the same set of parts. There are exactly two songs this year where I still find myself mulling over the words and the other one is a criticism of the music industry through the medium of spiritual possession, so. I didn't even think until @keyofjetwolf put it in her comments that the piano / rhythm playoff mirrors the lyrics, but I like it even more now if possible. One of my first comments was "never thought we'd get metal in eurovision, the guitar solo would take up most of the 3 minutes" and then Lord of the Lost released an extended version with an extra minute-long guitar outro, so I feel especially vindicated. To conclude: hell yes.

[plant-flwrs]

hi! could you do a draco x reader imagine where it’s enemies to lovers and one night at a party draco gets drunk and confesses his feelings?

drunk // draco malfoy

masterlist!

a/n: i literally had an idea exactly like this n my drafts omg but it was smut :0 wut r the odds. n e way, hope u like it, thanks for the request anon!!

summary: You and Draco are enemies until one drunken night leads to a confession of secret feelings.

(4.4k)

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It was no secret that the Slytherin house was plagued by Draco Malfoy. The house was split; people who went along with Malfoy’s bullying and those who hated the boy. You were proud to say you definitely did not get along with Draco.

Over the many years of mutual torment between the two of you, you had both improved on your ways you made the other’s life a living hell.

This week, you had decided to casually mention to Ron that in his sleep, Draco sucked his thumb. You had no idea if this was true, of course, but you knew Ron would tell everyone he knew. 

In retort, Draco had been stealing any of your school work you left out in the common room. He would return it a few days later with all your work erased. 

This was typical. It would have been unusual if you didn’t have the added stress Draco gave you.

The worst part was the classes you shared. You shared a fair amount of them, being in the same house and finding a lot of your courses to be the same. The both of you were fairly smart, proving to be good competition. 

Charms was your least favorite. You had an awful memory, and when you had to remember the physical movements with the vocal spell, you struggled miserably. Draco did fine in Charms, which made it even worse.

Today was particularly difficult, having to memorize at least ten spells, each with different movements and verbal aspects. You sulked out of the room, loosening your green tie in frustration.

“Finding Charms a little hard today?” Draco mocked, raising his voice so it mimicked that of a baby’s.

“Not as hard as that Transfiguration test was for you last week. How much like a tea pot did your poor little mouse look like? I seem to recall it still had its tail,” you retorted, feeling better already about Charms as you looked at Draco’s sour expression.

“So what? What good will a mouse teapot do me? At least I can cast a gouging charm without nearly killing half the class,” Draco shot back, taking an intimidating step closer to you.

The two of you stood off in the middle of the hallway. This often happened after Charms, for it was the last class of the day and neither of you had anything better to do than shout at each other.

You rolled your eyes at the boy and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t even come close to killing anyone, Draco. Your such a drama queen,” you teased him, enjoying the flush on his cheeks. 

“Oh shut up,” he managed to still sound fierce, even with the pink hint on his face.

“Gonna cry about it?” you teased further, hoping to rile him up more.

He squinted his eyes at you and gave you one last critical look. He lifted his lip in a sneer and stalked off, Goyle and Crabbe following after him.

That was how you and Draco interacted. You would tease him, press his buttons, and he would get incredibly angry. It either ended with his storming off, or him saying something hurtful enough that actually made you sink to his level. He didn’t do it very frequently, because usually it resulted in him having a bruised eye for a few weeks.

You were happy to stand up to Draco, because not many other people did it. He was often too favored by Snape to ever get too badly hurt by Harry, and everyone else was too scared of him. Snape didn’t often interfere with the interactions between you and Draco, and you assumed he simply did not care.

You left Charms for the day feeling significantly more confident than when you had entered. You failed miserably at the assignments, and that upset you, but your little victory over Draco made up for it. You walked with Pansy to the Black Lake, books clutched tight to your chest as shields against the cold air nipping your skin. Your scarf clung to your neck and did its best to defend your vulnerable lips.

“You really can’t go?” you asked again, adding a slight whine to your voice.

“I can’t,” Pansy replied regretfully, “I’ve got loads of work to do, and my mum’s been on me about it recently.”

Pansy had fallen behind in more than a few of her courses. You supposed you could blame yourself a little, but didn’t like to think that hard about it. You and Pansy had been fast and loose recently, attending almost any and every party you could find, and spending a little more money than usual on certain substances. You justified it, though, thinking you’d be spending just as much at Hogsmeade every weekend.

“It won’t be any fun without you, though,” you said, still hoping she would change her mind.

“You’ll have Daphne,” Pansy said teasingly, “give her enough firewhisky and she’s a hoot.”

You giggled with Pansy, thinking back to the last time Daphne got drunk at a party. She had climbed on almost every elevated surface to dance, and when she ran out of tables to stand on, she had tried walking on the heads of the nearest first years.  

“Can I help you on some of your work? Get it out of the way?” you offered, practically desperate at this point.

“Would you? That might actually work,” Pansy exclaimed, rushing to the nearest tree to sit against with her school things.

You trailed after her, sitting next to her and pulling out some of your quills. You looked dutifully at Pansy’s Ancient Runes work, starting to write in your best attempt at your best friend’s handwriting. 

You knew there was an ulterior motive in wanting Pansy at the party, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. She was usually the only person who could effectively stop you from drunkenly interacting with Draco. She was the only one who could keep you two separate. As much as you hated Draco, something in your drunk subconscious always made you drawn to him. You needed her at that party.

Pansy stole a glance from her Potions work, looking at you. She smiled thankfully, tucking her short hair behind her ear and returning to her work.

The two of your worked silently for as long as you could, but the sun was against you. It crept away, hiding behind trees and clouds. The two of you began to collect Pansy’s scattered books in the dusk, some faint and lingering sunlight peaking through trees branches lighting the ground. You pulled your robes closer to you, feeling the air get colder as the sun was no longer there to warm you. You and Pansy struggled back to the castle, avoiding stray tree roots carefully. 

The both of you heard leaves crunching from a few feet away. You ignored it, figuring it was just some other students making their way up to the castle for dinner, too. The light was fading more and more, and you and Pansy were just about to clamber out of the heavily forested area when something hard knocked into your shoulder from behind. Draco had come from the left of you, walking past you and throwing his shoulder into yours. You stumbled forwards, but Pansy’s vigilant hand was quick to steady you before you could fall forwards.

“Merlin!” you said out of surprise, before you realized who it was.

His hair looked white in the moonlight that now illuminated the field. The bottom half of his face was shadowed by a tree, but you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was smirking. You rolled your eyes, feeling your feet firmly planted on the ground again, and began walking past Draco with Pansy’s arm looped in yours.

“Scare ya?” Draco snarled, taking a few long strides to walk in pace with you and Pansy.

“The only thing about you that scares me, Draco, is your nasty breath,” you said, pretending to sound sweet.

Draco scoffed, and you made a disgusted face, pretending to smell his breath from the few feet you were away from him.

“Honestly Draco,” Pansy said from beside you, struggling to hide her smile but going along with your joke and lifting her hand to cover her nose, “you’d think some of your daddy’s money would go towards toothpaste.”

You laughed earnestly, looking to Draco so you wouldn’t miss the offended face you knew he always made. He wasn’t doing it though, his brows weren’t furrowed and his lips weren’t curled. He looked off. His eyes narrowed but his lips were spread into some sort of crooked grin.

You narrowed your eyes back at him in suspicion, which he noticed. He quickly snapped out of whatever he was in, and his usual sneer was directed towards you and Pansy as he sulked off to the castle.

You and Pansy sat at the Slytherin table in your usual spots. Draco was a few people away from the both of you, as he usually was, but you both ignored him. It was easy to do, especially recently. Blaise had taken a peculiar interest in Pansy, and wherever Blaise went followed his friend Klein. 

Blaise was busy fawning over Pansy, watching her with a dazed look as she brushed her hair from her face. Klein kept his eyes locked on you, something you did not mind.

The boy was a year ahead of you, and he was the interest of just about every Slytherin girl. His green eyes were piercing, especially against the black hair that fell onto his forehead. He always kept his tie remarkably straight, and you often found yourself twirling it in your fingers to tease him. 

Tonight, he and Blaise walked with you and Pansy around the grounds before curfew. 

“Are you going to the party on Saturday?” Blaise asked Pansy, bringing his arm up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, and upon seeing your pitiful face she continued, “I’ll try, but no guarantees.”  

“Are you going?” Klein asked you, pulling a hand from his pocket to adjust his green tie.

“Of course,” you smirked, “I would never miss a party.”

Klein stared at you for a moment longer, and aware of his gaze, you bit your lip. You liked to mess with him, he was always so uptight and serious, it was fun to see him unwind just at your little actions.

You and Pansy said goodnight to the boys as you went to the girls dorms. 

The next day was odd, for as you came down the stairs to the common room, you saw Draco. It was not odd to see Draco in the common room, but it was odd for him to not immediately find you in a room and insult you. Instead, he merely locked his eyes with yours and stared at you. When you crinkled your face in confusion, he looked away, turning his attention back down to the book perched in his lap.

“Ready for breakfast?” Pansy asked, coming from behind you on the stairs.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, still looking at Draco as you followed her out of the common room.

In Potions, Draco didn’t torment you. In Transfiguration, he only stared at you, no sneer or grimace present. Most strangely, in Charms, he didn’t even bat an eye when your wand movement was off and your spell rebounded and hit Hannah Abbot. 

You apologized to Hannah profusely, even offering to walk her to the infirmary as her hand began to swell two times its normal size. She blushed, obviously embarrassed by the affliction, but insisted she could go by herself. She made sure you knew she forgave you, smiling politely as you followed her to the door and watched her go down the hallway. You shouted one last apology at her as she turned the corner, and she lifted her swelled hand in a friendly wave. 

Draco watched the entire interaction from his seat, his eyes following you as you held Hannah’s large hand in yours to look at the damage you caused. He looked at the guilty expression on your face, the red tint in your cheeks. He felt two things bubbling in his stomach: adoration and rage. He felt adoration, as he had been feeling for you for a while, and felt rage because he felt this way.

He swallowed hard as your eyes met his. In your flustered and guilty state, you shot him an annoyed look. He widened his eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring, and plunged his face downward to look back into his Charms textbook.

Draco had been weird lately, you noticed. For it was the third day, Friday by now, of no loud arguments in the hall, no insults in the common room, and not even a stray dinner roll being launched at your head during dinner (yes, he did that often). You and Pansy, however, were too busy doing her late work to do anything about Draco. She really was behind, and it was hard for you to do her late work as you had new assignments to do yourself. Pansy found a similar difficulty, leading you both to spend your Friday night poured over textbooks in the common room.

“Hard at work, girls?” you and Pansy looked up to see Blaise and Klein.

They fell into the couch across form you where you sat at a wooden desk against the wall. You had pulled two large armchairs to the table, the leather giving you some sort of relief as you bent over the work. Klein’s long arms stretch the length of the two person couch, and his stalky fingers tapped against it. Blaise leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Pansy. Klein eyed you hungrily, obviously enjoying the sight of your tie undone and your skirt riding up as you sat with your legs tucked beneath you.

Normally, you and Pansy would have engaged the boys, entertained yourselves with their mindless presence, but you had real things to do. Blaise and Klein may have been handsome, but they definitely weren’t the company you wanted right now.

“Hello Blaise,” Pansy mumbled tiredly, not looking up from the Transfiguration essay she was about to finish, “how’re you?”

“I’m alright,” he said airily, leaning back into the couch and taking Pansy’s simple question as an invitation to stay and talk.

You fought the urge to groan, not looking up form the Arithmancy problems you scrawled over and over. 

“How about we sneak to the kitchens tonight?” Klein suggested, and you heard the smirk in his voice without having to look at him.

“We’re busy,” you said curtly, clenching your jaw as you came across a difficult set of numbers.

Pansy looked up at you from her paper, flashing you a warning look. You rolled your eyes, giving her an exasperated look. She raised her eyebrows, her face becoming stern. You sighed, releasing the tight grip on your quill.

“I’m sorry boys,” you forced your sweetest voice, “we’ve got loads of homework to do before the party tomorrow. Another time?”

Blaise looked disappointed, but accepting. Klein stood to his full height, and your eyes followed him as he grew. He looked down at you with a playful smirk, licking his lips.

“Of course. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and Pansy waved kindly to Blaise. You decided then that you were no longer interested in Klein. He had been fun when he got flustered just from a glance, but now he was becoming like every other teenage boy. His smirks made you want to gag, and his lingering looks were creepy. You figured you’d tell him tomorrow night, if you still cared that much by then. 

You and Pansy continued to work until Pansy slouched back in her chair and groaned loudly.

“I can’t get it done tonight. I’ll have to work on it tomorrow,” she pouted, but looked resolute.

You didn’t bother to attempt another guilt trip, or convince her otherwise. Pansy’s mind was made up. You had to go to this party alone. Pansy wouldn’t let you stay in the dorm all night with her, either, so it’s not like you even had a choice. At least Klein wouldn’t bother you. He seemed to only have the guts to come up to you if Blaise did too, and he wouldn’t come up to you if you weren’t with Pansy. Now all you had to do was make sure not to get roped into an argument with Draco. You had to be the bigger person for one night and make sure you wouldn’t do anything you’d regret in the morning.

Pansy was right, she couldn’t get all her work done that night. She sat on her bed with books sprawled around her. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the clothe hugging your body. You looked good, you felt good.

“You’re going to be fine,” Pansy reassured you for the tenth time as you sat at the end of her bed, “you can go to parties without me.”

“Okay, but if I come back here tonight having lost a shoe or something, it’s your fault,” you joked, smiling as Pansy laughed.

You, Daphne, and Millicent stayed in your dorm for a little while longer. You moved some clothes around in your trunk, lifting a hidden compartment at the bottom. You retrieved two bottles of firewhisky, handing them to Daphne and Millicent. You closed your trunk, meeting the impressed expressions of the girls. Usually Fred and George Weasley provided alcohol for the school, known for their impressive parties. You and Pansy, however, had your own supply you liked to keep for rainy days. While this wasn’t a rainy day, you couldn’t help the need for a little liquid courage as you had to go to your first party without your best friend. You took the bottle from Millicent and Pansy giggled as she looked up from her Ancient Rune dictionary to watch you take a large swig of the drink.

You felt it burn as it traveled down your throat, and it spread through your body like a warm blanket. You handed the bottle back to Millicent, and the three of you finished off an entire bottle. You didn’t want to go downstairs until you heard the music become loud enough, and by the time you were putting the empty bottle back in your trunk, the party roared downstairs. 

The three of you said goodbye to Pansy and went to the common room. The music became louder and louder as you got closer to the party. Soon, Daphne was dragging you and Millicent to a large table with assorted drinks. You watched a boy on the other side of the table pouring himself a heavy amount of a clear liquid. He met your eyes and handed you the bottle. You looked at the label but all that was there was a cartoon drawing of a witch with bubbles spouting from her mouth. You raised your eyebrow at the boy, and he smiled, taking a sip of his drink. You filled your own cup with the liquid, drinking it quickly. It burned more than the firewhisky did, but it was still enjoyable.

You felt your head feel lighter as Daphne clasped onto your hand to pull you out to the dance floor. You danced with her, and as you moved your cup slid from your hand. You and Daphne looked at it for a moment, the cup spilled over as a wet spot formed on the carpet. You looked back up at each other and fell into a fit of giggles. 

You continued to dance, looking around the crowd with ease. You felt like someone was staring at you, but you couldn’t find anyone in particular. The music and alcohol coursed through your veins. You felt lighter than you had in months, no worrying thoughts of homework or boys, or even Draco Malfoy.

The second you thought about how you weren’t thinking about Malfoy, you were immediately thinking about him. Part of you missed the hateful sparks between you, the natural narrow of your eyes at the sight of him. 

Your body tensed involuntarily, and your drunk subconscious was already hoping to see his blond hair in the crowd. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking of what to say so Draco’s stern face would devolve into a furious expression. 

You slowed next to Daphne, a wicked look overtaking your dazed face.

“What is it?” Daphne shouted into your ear, pulling you closer by your arm.

“I’ve got to go find someone,” you shouted back, “I’ll be back in a second.”

You were moving through the crowd before Daphne could reach out and stop you. A small voice in the back of your head sounded a bit like Pansy, her familiars warnings from the last party you were at with Draco. She had found you as you were just about to pour your drink down his front, and her soothing words floated into your drunken mind like good-natured clouds.

“He’s not worth it, honestly. All the stress he causes you is going to give you wrinkles, you don’t want wrinkles. Leave him be,” Pansy was right then and she would have been right again. Alas, Pansy was not here and her words did not echo loud enough in your head as you finally found the blond.

He was draped across a leather couch. His legs dangled off the arm as his head was perched on a pile of blankets. At the floor, Crabbe and Goyle hunched over, goblets clutched loosely in their seemingly unconscious hands. Draco’s eyes were closed, his long eyelashes delicately hovering over his pink flushed cheeks. His hair was pushed off his forehead, falling in handsome tufts onto the blankets under him. You stood there for a moment, interchanging which leg to rest your weight on.

“Are you going to say something,” Draco suddenly drawled, barely loud enough to be heard over the music, “or are you content to sit in silence for once?”

You scoffed, taking a breath that made your chest rise. You walked towards him, curling your warm fingers around his legs and flinging them off the arm of the couch. His body twisted and his eyes opened at the touch. You sat next to him, at least a foot between the both of you.

“What do you want?” he asked, leaning over to take Crabbe and Goyle’s full goblets from them. He handed you Goyle’s as he drank from Crabbe’s.

“Just wanted to see if you had done anything embarrassing that I could tell the whole school about tomorrow,” you lied, taking a considerable sip from the goblet.

Draco scoffs next to you, “Not yet, darling.”

You gave Draco a glance. He seemed distressed about something. The way he cradled the goblet in his hands and drank with an urgency was the way someone drinks when their upset.

“What’s got your panties all tied up, Draco?” you asked teasingly, leaning in his direction slightly.

Draco looked at your lidded eyes, the natural smirk on your pretty lips, the outfit you wore that you looked absolutely amazing in; he couldn’t feel any rage as he looked at you that night.

“You,” he said softly, staying stiffly straight but turning his head to face you.

You felt your cheeks warm, looking at him with a curious smirk.

“Really?” you indulged, wondering what else Draco may drunkenly confess. His words weren’t slurring like yours, but the faint pink flush on his cheeks and his unseemly kindness told you he was not sober.

He nodded silently, looking down at the goblet in his lap.

“Draco,” you said, turning to rest your back against the arm of the couch as your legs spread on the cushions. Your feet were inches from touching Draco’s thighs, and he tensed as he looked at the lack of space, “You’ve been acting odd with me recently.”

Draco, if possible, tensed even more at your statement. He was not nearly as drunk as you thought he was, or as you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered, biting his bottom lip. This was the first time you had ever seen Draco Malfoy seem flustered. 

“Draco?” you slurred, not speaking again until he turned his face to yours.

You moved forward, bending your legs so you still didn’t touch him, but so your face was close to his.

“Do you fancy me?” you drawled, intrigued. 

Draco’s previously tense and stiff stature seemed to relax, as if a secret was released that he had been bottling up. He brought his goblet to his lips slowly, and you did the same, the both of you finishing off what Crabbe and Goyle had been drinking. 

“If I’m going to be honest-” Draco had turned his head to you and began speaking, but you weren’t listening. His lips looked so soft and his eyes looked so kind, you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him.

He was surprised at first, unmoving against your lips. You smiled, still against him, and it seemed to make him realize what was happening. Within seconds, one of his hands was on your waist as the other was on your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, tasting a cinnamon flavored alcohol on his tongue as he slid it into your mouth. Your brought your hands to his neck, unable to stop yourself from playing with his hair. You ran your fingernails across his scalp and down to the nape of his neck, smiling again as he moaned into your lips.

You pulled away when it felt like your lungs needed air, which they did, and kept your eyes closed. Your shoulder fell into the side of the couch, your forehead resting on Draco’s shoulder. 

You felt yourself drifting off into a drunken sleep, your body feeling heavy as it slumped into Draco’s.

“I really like you, Y/n. I really do,” Draco confessed from beside you, stroking your hair, “I think you’re the most clever person I’ve ever met.”

You felt your heart swoon at his confession, wondering if he said it because he thought you were already asleep, or if the alcohol was affecting him as much as you. You shifted, bringing your legs to fall into his lap, to which Draco wrapped his slender fingers around your thigh and pulled your closer to his body.

“I hope you’re not too drunk to remember this,” he mumbled, his own eyes fluttering shut as the both of you fell asleep. 

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

The Hangover (Def Leppard x Reader)

(Happy birthday to my blog!! To celebrate 3 years of the place where I concentrate my insane Leppard obsession, I thought I’d celebrate by posting the FIRST Def Leppard fanfic I EVER wrote ((which I have NEVER posted anywhere before!)) I began writing this exactly 3 years ago today- the day I made this blog ((February 19th, 2018))- and officially finished it about a year later. This is not intended as a romantic/sexual fic, it’s simply just an x reader in which the reader is basically one of the guys. In other words, it’s on crack.)

((I am aware this is kind of cringe-worthy at times... but I still like a lot of things about it. While I revised it very slightly before queuing it,  I was still 16 when I started writing this, okay... gimme a break...))

(Illustration by @paper-sxn​)

Words: 8,684 Prompt: Dublin, 1984. You’re with the Leppards in their early pre-Hysteria era house. You all wake up with hangovers after a boozed-up night at home, and you each try to put the pieces of the previous night back together. Meanwhile, you’re praying that one particular piece won’t fit in anywhere... (partially inspired by the “Blitzgiving” and “The Pineapple Incident” episodes of How I Met Your Mother)

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Gently piercing white light made its way through the windows of the bedroom. It hit your eyelids, and it hit your brain, igniting a brief but killer headache. As your eyes clasped together more, you turned your face into the gloriously soft pillow. For a second you asked yourself why you would have a headache so early in the morning, but then…

You laughed quietly into the bed, recalling without warning some vague happenings from the night before. There wasn’t much you remembered, but you clearly saw the image of the guys flat out drunk at some point (you along with them). There were some blips of you all singing together, Sav hanging from a door frame, you chugging some scotch, Joe chugging some vodka, Steve’s hair being in pigtails, and you think Phil might’ve been giving you a lap dance... or vice versa. It was, all in all, hysterical (at least- that’s what you wanted to think).

 Other than those faint events, unfortunately, the night was gone. Still, you were thrilled that it happened. Crazy times with your boys were always good.

You rubbed your eyes, ready for more sleep to combat the pounding in your head. When you did, they opened a little, and you realized… this wasn't your room you were in. Squinting around, you noticed that you were sleeping in Phil’s room instead of yours.

Oh, it’s not that much of a problem, you mused, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I’ve woken up to worse in this place.

You let your eyes close again easily, and you found peace as you began to fall under again. That is, until you felt someone move next to you.

When it happened, you became aware of the warmth coming from someone else in the bed. They only shifted in their sleep a little bit before going still again. Your eyes went wide, and you held your breath. You don’t remember getting into bed with someone (in fact, you don’t remember getting into bed at all). Turning your head, you looked to see what sort of stranger was in bed with you currently. Instead of a stranger, scraggly blonde hair over a kind and shy face met your sight, and you were instantly calmed upon realizing that it was just Steve. That was good, that was good, but why were you and Steve sleeping in Phil’s bed? You were sure you didn’t have sex last night- at least, not with Steve. This tiny moment of appeasement and confusion was cut short by the faint sound of guitar chords coming from downstairs. The music echoed to your ears, signaling that it had to be Phil, and that he was playing the opening to Bringin On the Heartbreak. Cautiously taking the covers off you- not wanting to wake Steve- you felt obliged to go to the other guitarist. When you stood up and began walking, you nearly fell forward from the sudden vertigo of your hangover. You had to hold onto the counter of Phil’s dresser for extra support, and that’s when your reflection in his mirror caught your eye. Not only that, but that’s when your outfit also caught your eye. One of the guys’ Union Jack tank tops had been slipped over you somehow, and two hand prints were on either side of your face in dried paint; one was blue, one was green. "What…?“ you whispered, touching your face and feeling the shirt on you. It seemed to fit you alright, which made you wonder whose it really was. You were also in black underwear, and nothing else. While eyeing yourself, you took notice of Steve in the reflection. You now saw a few big red lipstick stains on his face, untouched and unsmudged. It was pretty cute, you had to admit, but another thing that came to your attention was that it wasn’t you who was wearing the lipstick at the moment. So then who kissed Steve all over his face? You treaded carefully down the hallway, putting one foot in front of the other and dragging a hand on the wall for support. The melody of the distant guitar didn’t cease the whole time you trekked through the house to get to Phil. When the chords of the song dragged on to the part where the vocals should have begun, no vocals came. Everything in the house looked remarkably the same (despite everything you remember from last night). There were large, ripped pieces of cardboard in the middle of the hallway;  scattered out as if leaving a trail. Alongside that, there was a piece of paper labeled “pay 2 the orerr of Rick: one fuckin bendee straw” in what may have been Sav’s handwriting on top of the stairs, and blue paint smudged on the railing going downwards (guaranteeing that whoever did that eventually got to your face, too).

Step by step you descended as the scenery of the house teetered around you (a little too reminiscent of Me & My Wine, you would add). When you reached the bottom of the stairs and looked into the living room, sure enough, Phil was there, strumming away.

“But it’s easy come and easy go…” he hummed.

“You’re…” you mumbled, burped a little, and continued, “Awake. How?” He stopped playing and crossed his arms, quietly sassing you, “Ah, she rises again. You regrettin’ anything yet?” You blinked and rubbed your eyes, scratching a little bit of paint off of your face and inquiring in a scratchy, tired tone, “I guess so… but- how? You, how?” Phil took off his guitar and stood up with his hands in his pockets, “Because I barely drank at all last night, and I also sure as hell didn’t shag Steve in someone else’s bed!” “How do you mean- I didn’t- wait- and Steve- what?” you rubbed your head, getting dizzy, causing Phil to guide you to the couch. “I didn’t- I didn’t shag Steve last night,” you insisted. “Mm hmm,” the guitarist hummed disapprovingly, “Alright.” “What the hell are you on about?” Phil smirked evilly and laughed, “He carried you upstairs, we heard the door close, and then some rather happy noises were heard, so we all just assumed-!” “That’s not-” you swallowed and lay your head back on the couch, “-a valid assumption.” “Oh, you poor thing,” came the sarcastic remark, “You really don’t remember, do you?” “Well I figured if I ever fucked any one of you I would- you know- remember it!” you raised your voice at him, then rubbed your temples. “I’m touched, really. But I’ll fill you in a bit,” Phil yanked up his guitar he’d put down, placed himself next to you, and played the into to “Ballroom Blitz”. Then a bit of the night came back to you. “Oh... that’s what started it all, didn’t it?”

~The night before~ Rick began banging out a tune on his drum kit in the house with you, Sav, and Steve sitting close by, them being at the ready with their guitars. “You ready, Steve?” you mimicked the original lyrics. “Uh-huh,” he replied exactly like Steve Priest in the original song. “Savy?” you said next. “Yeah,” Sav bopped his head to the beat. “Rick?” “Okay.” “Alright, fellas,” you called out, “Let’s go!” The two guitarists let their instruments ring out around the house, playing the all-too-familar tune. As soon as they started this, the front door opened, and none other than Phil and Joe walked in. Joe was holding a bag that was weighed down by the mass inside it (a painfully obvious sign that there were a few bottles of booze). Although the two of them weren’t talking, they were physically hushed upon hearing the situation you and the others had created. “Oh life’s been getting so hard, living with the things you do to me…” you sang lowly and quietly along with the music being made, just to make sure the musicians knew their places. You noticed Phil run out of the room in excitement, and into the one where he keeps his guitars. Joe, on the other hand, stayed put and watched the rest of you from afar, fighting a smile. “My dreams are getting so strange, I’d like to tell you everything I see…” You stood up, and Joe began walking towards you when you called out the next line of the song, “Oh- I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes are as red as a sun!” Joe chimed in without warning at the next line, putting an arm on your shoulder and pointing at you, “And the girl in the corner, let no one ignore her, ‘cos she thinks she’s the passionate one!” *** “It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz, it's, it's a ballroom blitz,” Phil sang the ending teasingly to you when he put his guitar back. It felt like he was rubbing his energy in your face (since you lacked it). Before Phil could continue, Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Yeah! It’s a ballroom blitz!” he announced, throwing his arms into the air and taking a bow. He sounded a bit tipsy still. Joe was wearing his Union Jack shorts, but no shirt. Instead of a shirt, though, he had the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” sloppily painted across his chest in blue and green paint. Right over his nipples there were also two handprints, almost exactly matching the ones on your face. Joe stumbled in the doorway, falling to his knees and groaning in discomfort, “Ohh... probably should’ve stayed in bed.” Phil sluggishly trekked over to the singer and pulled him partially to his feet, yanking him towards the couch, “Oh yeah? And by ‘bed’, you mean-?” “Definitely not the bathtub.” Joe assured him, but winked at you. “No matter where you slept, it’s still not as bad as where she slept,” Phil pointed at you, “And what she did there.” “Why? What’d you do?” Joe’s tipsiness wore away in his sentence, making him sound genuinely concerned and curious. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what Phil was going to say, “Phil, I-” “It’s not what she did, it’s who she did- she shagged Steve in my bed!” the guitarist accused you again while pointing a finger. Immediately Joe exclaimed, “Nice!” and held up a hand to high-five you. “Joe!” you scolded him, surprised that he took this as good news. “Oh-uh, not… nice?” he took away the offer of a high-five and scratched the back of his head awkwardly instead, “Also, is that my shirt?” You took a look down at the Union Jack tank top you were wearing and back at Joe’s torso. Then something clicked in your head. “Ohh…” you continued staring at Joe’s chest, feeling yourself blush as old memories unraveled in your head, “I think... I think I remember something else that happened last night.” *** You were all drunk; it was no lie. After your quick jam session, there was a booze-filled music fest going on in the house. Joe had even put on his Union Jack outfit, pretending he was getting ready for a show. At one particular point of this “festival” you'd all created, records were being played, and you ended up dancing in front of Joe to REO Speedwagon’s “Take It On the Run”. “You’re bringing up your white lines, you’re pullin’ on a bedroom eyes, you say you’re going home, but I won’t say when,” you sang the wrong lyrics as you swayed and drunkingly made flirty faces at Joe on the couch. Sav, meanwhile, was playing with some old craft paint off in the corner. The blue and green substances were all over his hands (but somehow, one color managed to stay on each hand). “Yeah, you dance for him, Y/N!” Rick cheered you on from the kitchen as Steve and Phil sat on the couch. Phil was perfectly sober, and Steve was giggling and laying with his head on Phil’s lap. You, on the other hand, were now moving closer to the singer, almost like you were giving him a lap dance. “You take it on the run, baby,” you sang along, slowly taking Joe’s Union Jack tank top off of him (with no objections from below), “If that’s the way you wanna, baby...” In return to Joe being shirtless, you slowly took off your own shirt (triggering wolf-whistles and cheers from the guys) to replace it with Joe’s tank. “Sav, mark him up!” you ordered the painted bassist in the corner as you tried to dress yourself. He happily made his way over to you and questioned, “What should I mark him with?” A single hazy idea came to you, and you eagerly whispered it into Sav’s ear. He giggled in response, and proceeded to move over to Joe, drawing something on his chest in the paint. To keep Joe from looking at what it was, you went behind the chair and covered his eyes, ordering coyly, “No peeking!” “All done!” Sav announced and retreated back to whatever he was doing in the corner. “Now, wait, Sav!” you sped over to him, lifted his hands up, and double high-fived him, getting the paint on your hands as well. To finish off what Sav had started, you ran back over to Joe on the chair, and slapped your hands on his chest, right over his nipples. Laughter erupted from everyone in the room (including Joe) and you repeated Sav’s words. “All done!” Joe gazed down at the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” on his chest as you continued to dance to the song playing. “You’re mine, now! You take it on the run, baby... if that’s the way you want it, baby...” Joe tried to tell you in a sexy voice, “Am I your baby now?” “If that’s the way you want it baby,” you repeated the words from the song to him, “Now I’m done dancing for you! Somebody dance for me!” Steve began pointing at everyone individually, childishly suggesting, “It should be, eenie, meenie, miney, Phil!” “Why me?” Phil laughed in objection as you took a seat across the room. “Because you’re not wasted,” his terror twin argued, poking him on the nose. The sober guitarist looked over at you with happy anticipation, awaiting a comment, while all you did was wiggle your fingers at him with a goofy grin. After that, you returned the gesture to the man on his lap, giving Steve a sexy wink. *** “Oh my god...” you put your head in your hands shamefully as Phil and Joe giggled at the memory of the previous night, “I can’t believe I did all that...” “That was a treat!” Phil laughed, hugging you from the side and pulling you closer to him in consolation, “It was funny! We never get to see that side of you!” “There’s a certain reason why you don’t...” you moaned with embarrassment, then asked out of guilty curiosity, “How many times did I grab your ass during that lap dance...?" Phil thought for a bit before telling you, “Four. Well- four and a half...” You gave a loud groan of protest as Joe laughed and slumped back into the couch. “Oh, you only did those things because you weren’t thinking!” Phil consoled you, swayed back and forth with you in his arms. Joe chimed in, “Yeah, and see what happens when you don’t think? You do! Most importantly, you do Steve!” “I didn't do Steve!” you shot your head up and yelled at Joe. You received only laughs and snorts from both men in reply. Suddenly, Sav appeared on the staircase and began singing “Squeeze Box” by The Who with a tired yet cheeky smirk, “Mama’s got a squeeze box she wears on her chest, and when Stephen comes home, he never gets no rest-” Joe and Phil joined into his song with, “Cos' she’s playin’ all night, and the music’s alright! Mama’s got a squeeze box, Stephen never sleeps at night!” You just put your head back in your hands, trying not to accept your fate of being teased. You didn’t want to think that you possibly shagged Steve. He always seemed so innocent to you in a way, and you feared that this would kill your friendship. If everything the boys said was true, you would never hear the end of it, and you don’t even know what Steve would think of you from now on. Was it possible that he remembered anything about the night before? “It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen...” you repeated to yourself in a whisper as Phil unwrapped his arms from you. Sav came all the way down the stairs; his body language making him look grumpy with the world, but his tired grin signaling that he was pleased with seeing you. “Oh, it happened, sunshine!” the frizzy-haired bassist laughed, but quickly regretted it and rubbed his head with his still-painted hands, “Ah- yep, it happened. You could probably hear you two up the whole damn street.” As Sav wearily joined you all on the couch, Joe complained, “Sounds like that was a treat; I wish I remembered it!” Phil was caught off guard at the comment. His head turned to Joe in the blink of an eye and gasped, “Wait, you don’t remember hearing them?!” “I wish I could say I do, but there’s nothing there,” Joe stood up after he spoke, and quickly held onto the wall nearby. His hand went over his stomach as he whined, “Oh... fuck, Y/N, why did you make me race you last night?" “'Race me'?” you squinted as you inquired, “Race you with what?” Joe didn’t answer, but slowly took steps into the kitchen, using the wall as his guide. His answer came when you, Sav, and Phil all heard him throw up into the sink. You sighed, resting your hands over your eyes, trying to remember the cause of Joe’s sickness, “Oh no, was that really my idea?” *** “Look what I found!” you trotted into the room tipsily, holding two bottles; one of scotch, one of vodka, “Only half full! Who wants em?” While you weren’t full-on drunk, it was no secret that the title wasn’t that far away. After your little Ballroom Blitz, it was one beer after the next, then it was digging into the fancy liquors that Phil and Joe had just brought home. Your judgment was impaired, no doubt about it, and so was the judgment of all the guys. Joe even changed into his normal live-show-only Union Jack tank top, claiming that he was gonna "put on a show." The only one who was still sane and sober was Phil, who seemed to be staying away from your poison. Upon registering your sacred offer of alcohol, Rick ran forward, chanting, “Me! Me!” You lifted the bottles away from him, commanding, “Uh-uh! I get the scotch.” “Oh, bollocks, then you can keep the vodka,” the young drummer grumbled and turned away from you. Just as Rick rejected your offering, Joe sprung up and eagerly trotted over while shouting happily, “I’ll take it!” “Sold!” you handed the bottle over to him, “Betcha can’t finish before me!” “Betcha I can!” he sneered back before taking the cap off his bottle. There was no official “ready, set, go” for the race; you both just kind of went for it without any saying. While your throat and stomach were already protesting your actions (and you could almost sense that Joe’s were doing the same), you didn’t stop once; neither of you did. You held up your bottle and announced, “Done!” Looking over, you saw Joe was also finished. “I finished first!” “Nuh-uh!” you insisted, “It had to be me! Tell him, guys!” The four others hadn’t been paying attention to you and Joe’s little competition; they were instead focused on a box that Sav had pulled out from a cupboard. From the box they pulled out bottles of paint and various types of used makeup.

Joe scolded them all in a more sober manner, “Oh come on, you lot weren’t even watching!” “Yeah, yeah, it was probably a tie, anyways,” Rick chuckled, pulling out more items from the box. “This box is much more interesting, too," Phil protested, holding up a stick of lipstick as Sav held up two bottles of paint, "This is a box of makeup that I had for me and the lads in Girl! Just look at it all! Think we can have some fun with this?" "Oh, piss off," you threw the empty bottle onto the couch, "We need some music." Joe had slumped down onto a chair, and you stumbled your way over to the shelf with all the records on it, flipping through and eyeing them all as carefully as your body would let you. After only a few seconds of searching, your eyes lit up at a discovery. "Here's a good one!" you exclaimed as you pulled out a copy of Hi Infidelityby REO Speedwagon, "Let's give it a spin!" ***

Joe wandered back into the room and fell onto the empty couch with a grumble. “Sorry, Joe...” you muttered over to him, realizing that you pressured him into more consumption of the booze. “It was probably gonna happen anyway...” he admitted, wiping his hands over his face, “It’s was my stupid choice to go through with it.” “Woah,” Phil pointed out out of nowhere, looking at you with great surprise, “What’s that on your neck?” You felt your heart drop into your stomach. “What!?” you shot up from where you sat (bringing on more dizziness), and rushed over to a mirror. Once your dizziness subsided, and you could finally see your reflection, the pink shape of a hickey on the side of your neck was now clearly conspicuous. You wondered how you hadn't noticed it before. Joe exclaimed with a smug and proud grin, “Is that from Steve!?” You groaned angrily, feeling yourself become more and more defeated. “I can’t believe it,” you gasped, slapping a hand over the mark, “Something did happen between us-!” “Y/N,” Phil pointed out again, “There’s lipstick on your thigh...” Looking down at your legs, you saw that he was right. There was a single red symbol on your right thigh that marked a kiss from the night before. Upon seeing this, what you saw when you woke up popped into your head. “Looks like Steve went to town down there,” Sav smirked at you, only wanting to rub it in more. “Guys,” you softly noted, “That wasn’t Steve... he has lipstick marks all over his face from someone else...” The three men all exchanged confused looks with each other. There was a dead end to the story of the previous night. None of them knew how to solve the mystery of the lipstick. Not even Phil, who was as good as sober 12 hours ago, didn’t have any input. Sav suddenly blurted out, “Wait a minute, I know what happened- I think...” No one said anything, but eagerly leaned forward, ready to hear the tale the bassist had to tell. “You lot remember how we found that box of old makeup last night?” he began, “Well, I walked into the bathroom with you afterwards, Y/N...” *** Rick looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, carefully applying the makeup to his lips, and being extra careful to not get it on the blazer he was wearing. The drummer put on his best suit just to see how it would look with the makeup he was putting on. He thought he was doing a good job for the most part; he didn’t look half bad at all! It was far easier than he expected it to be, and wondered if he was good enough to help you with your makeup at times. Thinking of you seemed to have made you appear in the doorway next to him. Both of your hands were still covered in paint. “Sink,” was all you commanded of the drummer. He moved without a word and you began to wash your hands. At the same instant, Sav appeared nearby. He grabbed the doorframe and began to swing from it, leaving conspicuous handprints afterwards. “Aren’t you gonna wash up, too?” Rick crossed his arms to sass him. “Nah, I want the colors, they’re makin’ me feel- colorful...” Sav grinned, walking over to you at the sink, requesting, “C’mere.” You looked up, only to have your face taken in Sav’s paint-covered hands. He softly giggled as you squared your vision in on him with a sneer. “Rude,” you teased, then went back to washing your hands; paint now all over your face. “What’s really rude,” Rick pulled back the shower curtain and taking a step into the tub, “Is you two interrupting my makeup time! Good night!” He sat himself down in the tub and laid himself down as if he was going to sleep.

Before he had the chance to catch some shut-eye, you marched over to the tub and objected, “Rick, if you’re gonna sleep, I want a goodnight kiss first.” Without another word, Rick sat up and planted a kiss on your thigh (since it was closest to him). There was now a bright red imprint of his lips on your leg. “Thank you.” you smiled down at him, “Now goodnight.” “Don’t leave the water on, you hear?” Sav nagged him, pointing a colored finger, “You’ll drown." Rick chuckled with his eyes closed, “I’ll drink myself out. I'm in a drinkin mood, anyways." “Oh yeah? You haven’t got a straw or anything,” the intoxicated bassist continued to argue with him. “Then don’t let me drown! Get one!" “I’ll get you one later. I’ll just-“ Sav burped, and continued, “I’ll write a note or something.” “Sounds good, mate,” Rick slumped further into the tub and pulled the curtain closed, “Now you gonna stay here all night?” “Actually,” you noted out loud to yourself, different alcoholic emotions boiling up inside you, “I wanna go downstairs- I just need to see Steve- like right now...!" You turned on your heels, speeding past Sav and flying back down the stairs. *** “So that explains the paint on my face, and the paper in the hallway, and the lipstick, but what happened after that?” you asked Sav, as you were now slumped on top of Phil’s arm again. “Beats me,” Sav ran his still-painted hands through his hair, “That’s all I’ve got.” “But wait, if you said that Rick fell asleep in the bathtub...” Phil began his sentence, only for you and the other two men to exchange knowing looks with each other. All four of you immediately sprung up and rushed (as much as you could) up the stairs and into the bathroom. Upon getting there, Phil flung back the shower curtain to reveal a partially awake Rick, dressed in a suit, and still wearing the lipstick from the night before. “Mornin’,” he groaned as he stretched, then winced, “Ah, fuck- sleeping in here wasn’t the best idea for me neck.” Sav looked back at the paint on the doorframe and asked the drummer, “So then why did you sleep in here?” “Oh,” Rick looked around the tub, stating as-a-matter-of-factly, “The porcelain keeps the suit from wrinkling. I guess drunk me was very careful last night.” “I’ll say,” Joe complemented, “The lipstick’s still holding up pretty well.” Phil halted the conversation, “Wait, so you were in here when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night?” Rick chuckled, “Yeah, and let me tell you, for a smaller guy, you’ve got a big bladder.” “Wait,” you slowly turned and pointed at Joe, “I thought you said you slept in the bathtub-?” He gave you a cocky smirk in return, “I told you, ‘definitely not the bathtub’...” Rick sleepily laughed and pointed at you, “Ha- Y/N, you look like Joe!” “Why, just because of the shirt?” you inquired, pointing at Joe’s tank top on you. “And the paint!” Rick corrected you, “I can’t believe you guys didn’t wash it off yet!” In a second, you felt a rush of worry upon realizing that Rick hadn’t said anything about you and Steve yet. It made you suddenly come to the possible conclusion that he may not know about it all. “Wait,” Phil snapped his fingers, “So you do remember some stuff from last night?” “Yeah, a bit, I think. Why?” “Philip Kenneth Collen, don’t you fucking dare....” you growled at him in an almost pleading manner, rubbing your temples and grinding your teeth. “What do you remember?” Phil asked him, not giving any sort of reaction to your begging. Rick thought for a few seconds, clearly as hungover as the rest of you. It didn’t take him long to list off some brief happenings he recalled. “Well, I remember us singing Sweet, there was a lap dance, I remember- uh, being denied a bottle of scotch, there was, uh... there was lipstick... and did I try to ice-skate on pieces of cardboard down the hall...?” “Is that why there’s cardboard all down the hallway?” you motioned towards the door. Rick gave you a big proud smile and a nod in response. “So...” Joe looked around, definitely looking eager, “What’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep?” Rick rested his head back on the tub again, thinking as hard as his hungover mind would let him. You hoped to every god there was that he didn’t say anything about Steve. “Just Phil comin’ in here and having a long piss, that’s all.” came the verdict. “You sure you didn’t hear-“ Phil anxiously began to ask him, but got a hand slapped over his mouth by you. “No!” you yelled on impulse, sending more daggers through your burned-out head. All eyes were now on you, and silence fell. For a few tense seconds, you stared into Phil’s eyes, sending him visual messages of both threats and desperate requests. “...what the hell happened last night?” Rick broke the silence in a tone of utter confusion, knowing that something more serious than what he remembered had taken place. You pulled your hand back from Phil’s face, “Yuck, Phil, come on!” “You licked her hand, didn’t you?” asked Sav. “Yes,” Phil confirmed, and continued without missing a beat, “And I’m glad you asked that, Rick, cos' I know what happened after Y/N and Sav paid you a visit last night.” “Phil, if you love me in any way, shape, or form, you will not tell Rick what happened,” you begged to him as you began to walk out the bathroom door, heading back downstairs to wallow in more of your shameful hangover, “I refuse to believe it happened until there’s hard proof.” “Well what more proof do you want? A positive pregnancy test?” Phil shrugged, but suddenly slapped his own hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just said. You shot him an angry look. You were too tired to have it out with him, so you stumbled away. Right about now, you were ready to give up and accept the fact that you probably did shag Steve. Phil turned to Rick, gaping, and slowly began to speak again, "Right... so last night, after those two were in here, I think that’s when they came back downstairs..." *** "So why are you tying up my hair again?" a drunk Steve asked Phil, who was happily putting his hair into pigtails. "Because I knew you’d look pretty, and I knew you wouldn't object, either," the other guitarist laughed evilly as he finished tying the second bundle of golden locks together, "There, you're all done now." "Cool... I think," Steve tilted his head, staring at himself in the mirror on the wall as footsteps began pounding their way down the stairs. "I think you look pretty, Steve. Pretty, pretty, pretty," Joe giggled as he was flipped off by the pig-tailed guitarist. As this happened, you trampled the stairs in your descent, calling out, “Steve- Steve! Come here!” More than happy to be ripped away from Phil’s pigtailed plans, he let you run up to him as you belted out, “I’ve got an idea...!” He didn’t say anything, but he did let you whisper something in his ear. The second he heard your idea, his eyes lit up and an evil smirk crossed his face. Steve was always in the mood for causing terror. You pulled back and exchanged the same look of understanding with the guitarist. He stared at you with a sort of appreciation, and without another word, swept you off your feet, carrying you bridal style now. With a quick smooch to your lips, he began carrying you up the stairs as you giggled with some sort of glee. Phil’s jaw dropped, looking at Joe with astonishment in the process. The singer’s face mirrored the exact same expression. “I should’ve bloody known...” Phil gasped in astonishment, “She’s been eyeing him up real funny all night... I can’t fucking believe it!” Sav came down the stairs slowly, his life depending on the railing as he dragged his hand on it. He left a long streak of blue paint as he did so. “What’s gotten into their pants?” “Each other, apparently,” Joe scoffed, taking a sip of a beer he found, “Lord knows how the hell that happened.” *** You were all sitting back on the couches in the living room, all seemingly regretting the night before (you knew you most certainly were). Everyone knew that the end of Phil’s story was the true ending of the night. Now there was really a dead end to the whole tale. “I can’t believe it,” you whispered with sorrowful acceptance, “Me and Steve...? What happened next?” Joe scoffed, “Well that’s kind of a stupid question.” “That’s where it ends, Y/N. I went up to bed afterwards, only to hear-“ Phil cleared his throat to impersonate you and Steve, “‘Oh, Steve! Yes!’ coming from my room! So after an immense helping of disapproval, I slept in Rick’s room.” “No, no, that can’t be it!” you insisted, “Guys, what really happened next?” “Can’t say,” Joe mumbled, holding his head. “Sorry, mate,” Rick apologized. Sav remained silent, but looked apologetic. “That can’t be where it ends...!” you persisted, “Sav? Tell me I’m right!” Sav rolled in his lips, and darted his eyes away from you. You continued to stare at him suspiciously, but no one else thought anything of it. Phil tried to finalize your fate sympathetically, “Give it up, Y/N, at least it’s all over now.” “But it still happened! What am I gonna say to Steve when he wakes up? You know what- no. It didn’t happen, I refuse to believe that it did.” “How much more proof do you want?” Rick shrugged, pointing at Phil and Sav, trying to make you face the terrible truth, “They both heard ya, and Steve even gave you a hickey.” You hung your head, thinking you might just decide to cry out of shame. Yes, you loved Steve, just as you loved anyone else in the band, but you never had (or planned to have) any sort of sexual relationship with them. Even if you ever did, you were afraid it would ruin everything your friendship had stood for. “Sav, what’s wrong, mate?” Joe asked out of the blue. The bassist in question was still avoiding the conversation, staying eerily silent and weaving his hands together. At this point, you noticed that he was also blushing. “That wasn’t Steve.” he stated bluntly, still not looking at you. “What wasn’t Steve?” you asked as you stared at him dead on, your heart now pounding. “That hickey... that wasn’t Steve,” he paused, “That was me.” Immediately you gasped and slapped a hand over the mark on your neck. “What?!” the other three exclaimed. Joe and Rick immediately hissed at the searing pain their outbursts caused. “Sav, what the hell?!” you scolded him, finally happy that you weren’t the only one being called out for their mistakes. “Now before you say anything else,” he finally looked at you and held up a hand, “It was your idea.” Your face fell, softly asking him, “What do you mean?” “Well, after you and Steve-you know- and only Joe and I were downstairs, you actually came back down, too- wipe that smug look off your face, Joe. You’re not entirely innocent here, either.” *** You stumbled down the stairs, giggling to yourself. Your mission was now accomplished, and Steve was asleep upstairs. In a word, you were pleased. In two words, you were still drunk. Records were still being played when you returned to the living room, and Joe currently had his copy of Sheer Heart Attack on the turntable. “She Makes Me (Stormtrooper In Stilettos)”flowed softly from its speakers. “There’s our killer queen!” Joe cooed to you happily. He was now sprawled out on the couch, two empty beer bottles on the floor beside him. Sav wasn’t too far off. The paints on his hands were now dry, and he was reclined in a chair across the room, twiddling a bottle in his hand. They both looked ready for bed, and it made you wonder how they held out for this long. The singer slurred on with an interested smirk, “You two have fun?" Sav spoke up with a scoff-like laugh, “Sure sounded like it!" “Oh, you know it,” you gave them a wink, setting yourself down on the couch next to Joe, “Guess Phil finally ditched, huh?” “Yeah, the wanker went to bed- but you’ve lost your pants!” he gestured to your black underwear, made room for you to lay down with him, and took you in his arms like a teddy bear with a sigh of appeasement. You reached back and playfully poked at Joe’s dimple, “Steve's fault." “Well, that’s no good,” Sav objected, pushing the footrest of the chair in and returning to a sitting position. “What isn’t?” Joe asked him, "Steve gettin' into it with her?" “No, that cuddlin' you're doing- it’s boring. You stay like that, you’ll fall asleep on me!” He was certainly right about this. With you in Joe’s arms and his face nuzzling into your hair like some sort of animal, he was already falling asleep. “What do you want us to do?” you chuckled, thinking that Sav was only jealous of his friend. Joe mumbled happily into your hair, “How 'bout you just do me like Steve, and we’ll be good.” At this point, you noticed the feeling of something pressing lightly against the bottom of your back; a certain weight where Joe’s hips were, and a weight that wasn’t there at first. “Joe,” you whined at him, “You’re fucking gross.” He chuckled, then slowly moved his hips to lightly rub himself against you, a low quiet moan rising in his throat from the temporary pleasure it provided. “Ah- Joe!” you protested again, reaching back and hitting him as best as you could. You wiggled out of his embrace as he burst into giggles like he had just accomplished something. Sav, on the other hand, cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re even hornier than when you’re sober!” you grabbed a pillow and whacked Joe with it. “You’re one to talk! You just shagged Steve!” he smirked evilly, "Why not me?" “Ha! The only way I’ll do you is by some miracle, or at least a dare,” you threw yourself onto the other couch, picking up a nearly empty beer bottle and pouring whatever was left into your mouth. Sav’s eyes finally lit up, “That’s what we oughta do- truth or dare!” “Ooh, sounds like terrible fun,” you turned yourself so you were sitting upside-down on the couch, “Sav, truth or dare?” “How come he gets to go first?” asked Joe, “I wanna get down to business!” “Dare,” Sav declared, ignoring the singer’s objections. Immediately, your intoxicated mind thought of a scheme. Despite the plan you and Steve had executed ever so perfectly, you were still a child seeking more terror. You knew Joe wanted you, and it was no secret either, so how exactly would you use Sav to reign terror over him? You wanted something to rub in Joe’s face- something that would leave a mark on him. “I dare you to-" you clumsily pointed to your neck, "Gimme a hickey.” Joe's jaw dropped with offense and jealousy; exactly as you had expected. Sav began to laugh rather loudly at the request, and stood up, now understanding your true intention of making Joe jealous. “C’mere,” he motioned with his hand. More than happy to obey the command, you strutted over to him and paused, waiting for him to make the first move. He took a step so your bodies were practically pressing together, moved your hair out of the way on your neck, and dove right in. You smiled with glee, taking in the feeling of Sav’s mouth and tongue moving over your skin (as well as Joe’s groans of protest coming from a few feet away). As the bassist sucked on your neck without hesitation, it only made you think of one thing: “Wow, there’s definitely gonna be a mark after this.” *** Rick and Phil were staring at Sav with their mouths open in shock. You kept a hand over the mark he left on your neck to prevent everyone from looking any more than they already had. “So, wait, if it was you who gave me this, why didn’t you say anything before when we said it was Steve?” you asked Sav, more suspicious than outraged now. “I- ah, didn’t... wanna say anything...” he looked away, beginning to blush again, “I guess I was too embarrassed." “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is you, Joe,” Rick turned his attention back to the singer, “You fuckin dry humped her!” Joe exclaimed in his own defense, “Yeah, and I don’t even remember it! It’s not my fault- I was drunk and horny!” “See! Just like me and Steve! I don’t remember shagging him, either! So I guess we’re even.” “Even Stephen,” Phil scoffed. You slumped into the couch more, staring blankly ahead and realizing, “So I pretty much got to second base with all of you last night...?” “I think you made it all the way home with Steve,” Rick pointed out. “Thanks, Rick,” you kept your head hung, “I feel like a slut.” “You mean you’re not?” Phil joked, only to be hit in the arm by Sav.

Just then, you all heard the sound of movement upstairs. Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold; Steve was awake now. Everyone's jaws hit the floor, and for a second, you thought they were all afraid of what you were fearing. "He's awake..." Rick announced in a sing-song voice, teasing you. “Oh no...” you gasped quietly, “Oh no, oh no! Oh god, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna say to him?!” “Hate to break it to ya, but this isn’t necessarily our problem!” Joe shrugged in a panic, hearing Steve’s footsteps get closer. “But guys! You’ve gotta help me! You’re his best friends! What should I say to him?!” “Just act like it didn’t happen! Maybe he doesn’t remember-?” Sav proposed. Rick suggested, “Just straight up ask him if he remembers anything!” “Just get out of here!” Phil made a swatting motion towards the other room. “None of those are gonna do me any good! It still happened!” you yelled at them in a whisper, “I have to live that with that fact, even if neither of us have any memory of it to live with!” It was too late for any salvation; Steve was already at the top of the stairs. The band members held their breath, and- without words or warning- all scrambled out of the living room. “No!” you whispered, “Guys- wait!” You caught Rick by the wrist when he stood up. “Rick, c’mon, please don’t leave me here!” you begged. He yanked out of your grip and apologetically condemned you, “Sorry, Y/N, but this is your business.” As the four of them retreated, you tried to bolt after them. As soon as you hit the doorway, however, Phil turned around and pushed you back on the couch nearby as slowly as he could. It was so sudden that you were on your back before you knew it, and they were all gone. “Hey!” you called out after them, “Assholes!” Steve’s voice suddenly came to your ears (rather closely, too), “What’s their problem?” You jumped, “Ah- Steve!” He had a silent step, and made it down the stairs and across the room without making a sound. He also looked just as he did a little while ago when you first woke up; scraggly hair, lipstick stains all over his face, but no visible evidence of a hangover. “Hey, wow,” you forced an awkward chuckle at him, “Nice- uh, nice- lipstick...” Steve slumped down onto a chair and grumbled, “Thanks. Who even did this to me? Doesn’t look like it was you.” “That was, that was Rick- I’m assuming... I don’t remember that happening and I don’t think he does, either. He’s still got the lipstick on, too.” He played off the remark with a tired smile, “Oh, nice... last night really was something, wasn’t it?” Heat rushed to your face, and you tried to look away without being conspicuous. “Ha ha... yeah... really something!” you faked your amusement for him, now wondering if he was implying anything about the previous night. Steve leaned forward and asked, “Do you remember Sav and the paint? That was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” Still blushing, you darted your eyes around the room and nodded in agreement, “Mm hmm, yeah... he was like a toddler or something.” He sunk back into the chair again and closed his eyes, reminiscing about the events of the previous night. For a second you thought you were in the clear, and that maybe he didn’t remember the specific event that Phil and Sav did.

That illusion was shattered when his eyes snapped open, whispering “Wait a minute”, and sitting back up. Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach.

“How did our plan go?” he questioned quietly, figuring that the others were still somewhere nearby and listening. “P-plan?” you stuttered, partially afraid of what he meant, but partially caught off guard, “What plan?” “You know-” he whispered again, thinking you remembered, “It was your idea. Did they believe it? We were convincing enough?" You darted your eyes down to the floor, confused, but also embarrassed. 'Convincing'? What did that mean? "Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t remember!” he smiled playfully. As you stared at him with fearful confusion in your eyes and redness on your cheeks, his smile was suddenly wiped away. He muttered under his breath as his face fell, "Oh... you don't remember... bloody hell, okay, this is gonna be hard to explain..." "Then explain it, because I'm really fucking confused..." your voice wavered with a sarcastic chuckle. Steve sighed and leaned forward, slowly weaving his hands together. He didn't know where to begin. "This is one of the few things I remember from last night..." he started off, "And there's no way to make this sound... good... in any way, but you came up with the idea of us pretending to shag- like making noises and shit like that- to trick the others into thinking we really did. For some reason I thought it was a great idea, and I'm pretty sure I carried you upstairs, too.” Instantly, a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. It wasn't real; you didn't shag Steve, and he could even tell the guys himself! You blew out a big sigh of relief, and slumped back into the couch, closing your eyes. "Oh, god," you slowly panted, "What a huge relief- I suppose we were really convincing, then." "Why d'you say that?" You laughed tiredly, now feeling rather thankful for your raging hangover, "The guys are all convinced that we fucked last night. Only Phil and Sav seem to remember it, though. They've been hounding me about it all morning. I kept telling them it couldn't be true- and I was right!" "What, would it be so bad if we actually did?" he teased you in a hushed voice. "Well, I've had to live my day so far under the impression it did happen. I was teased, ridiculed, embarrassed, and felt guilty about it. I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship if it was true... I was kinda hoping you didn't remember so we could just forget..." The red in your face returned all over again. Steve, however, didn't seem bothered. "If you really want to, we can keep pretending it happened and steer into the act; give em' what they want." "What? No!" you laughed out loud, standing up, "You're crazy, Clark! I think I better go tell the others the bad news. They'll be disappointed-ha!" You walked across the room to go find the others and disclose unto them the "bad news", giving Steve a pat on the shoulder when you passed him. Once you were gone and out of sight, Steve also blew out a big sigh of relief. "She didn't remember anything," he thought to himself, "That was a close one." While he knew you two didn't go all the way the previous night, he figured if you didn't remember it, then it was for the best you didn't find out. It was nothing serious; just a bit of fooling around, really. Just a bit of drunked-up teasing, and nothing more. The guys had no proof that anything actually happened between you two, and you were about to tell them the partial truth anyway, so why say something to reignite the suspicion? After all, they were all hungover to begin with, so there wasn't much memory of the whole affair, either. "Thank god for these hangovers,"Steve thought, "Thank god. I couldnt've asked for anything more." ~Epilogue~ When you got to the top of the stairs, Steve put you on your feet and spun you around. "You ready?" he whispered, childish excitement in his voice. You nodded with equal excitement, "Take me away, Clark." The two of you began eagerly walking hand-in-hand to whatever room you pleased, but before either of you had the chance to pick one, the bathroom door opened, Rick popped his head out and commanded, "Stop right there!" Both you and Steve froze and looked at him. He still had his lipstick and his suit on, and a kind of serious look overtaking his face. A finger was kept in a pointing position at you, a few large pieces of cardboard were underneath his other arm, and he slowly took steps down the hall to meet you. Neither of you moved, but both of you waited. When Rick got to you, he didn't say a word, but did take Steve's face in his hands (dropping the cardboard in the process), and proceeded to the kiss the man all over his face.

Steve remained silent, and let Rick have his way until he decided to stop. When he did, there were several lipstick stains on various parts of the blonde's face.

"Thanks, mate," Steve muttered sarcastically as Rick kicked some of the cardboard pieces in different directions. He then stepped on two of them, trying to slide down the hall on them as if they were ice skates. When he got back to the bathroom, he went back inside and shut the door again.

Without another word, you turned Steve's face toward you, gave him a peck on the cheek as Rick had done, and kicked open the door behind you (which just so happened to be Phil's bedroom). You both fell back into the room, giggling with makeshift lust in your eyes.

After all, you had to make this authentic, right?

[helloooofandoms]

Alphabet Soup

Here's an itadori fic I originally posted on ao3 with an alternate ending because I didn't write this one at 5 a.m. whilst falling asleep. Also reader is a girl here.

Crouched against a wall you breathed in deep breaths. How'd you get here again? Oh yeah, your teacher sent you on a mission thinking it was just to receive some dumb kids from a haunted hospital but apparently a special grade demon lived here. Not one, but two! You weren't the main protagonist and yet here you were holding your breath as a lower grade demon passed. Your sensei told you that finding the kids were the main priority. Your teammate Sugoku had shouted out 4 minutes ago that he found a kid and your other teammate Meili had yet to say a word. Good thing you were good at tracking cursed energy. Standing up slowly you peaked around the corner of the wall you were hiding behind. You could see her footsteps trailing up the staircase. With one last glance you darted up the stairs. There was no use in fighting more demons when you still had children to save after all. As you ascended the stairs you could hear faint grunts and sounds of metal being hit together. Following the sound you were greeted with your teammate Meili who seemed to have a dislocated right shoulder as she fought one of the special grade demons.

You wholeheartedly could feel her pain just standing there and the look in her eyes said she was about to give in at any moment. Without caring you charged forward managing to push her out of the way of a large attack. This sent you flying into the wall, a large crack in it from where you landed. Sliding to the ground you seethed. Meili was alright, for now. You noticed the young boy that was behind the demon. He was shaking as he stood frozen in fear. If only you could get to him from here. Focusing back on the demon he only spared you a few seconds of inner monologue before he began charging at you once more. At least he wasn't attacking Meili this time. Breathing in you took to your feet and began running to put some distance between you. Your technique wasn't the best suited for close combat and your physical strength wasn't very high at all. That's okay, as long as you could move your feet you were guaranteed some kind of hope. Making sure to run past the boy, you grabbed Meili and pulled her forward. The next thing you knew she disappeared and was now next to the child. Your Technique Flash Steps allowed you to make a shoe imprint in the form of a footstep to use as a teleporter. As long as you had enough cursed energy to maintain it and multiple footsteps to teleport to and fro it was a good bet.

You got distracted having your eyes on the Meili and the young boy you didn't see the arm coming at you at full force. Therefore you took another hit right in the stomach. It'd be a miracle if you got out of this alive. Being knocked right back into the wall you so graciously met a few minutes ago, your head was now pounding. Bloodied and bruised you took some time to stand up this go around. If only you had some kind of weaponry. What would Yuuji do at a time like this? He was sort of your inspiration in a way. Not only did he have crazy stamina but also really good physical strength unlike you. You made up for what you lacked in speed and intelligence. The one thing you both had in common though, was that you never gave up! Earlier you left a footstep by the entrance of the hospital, not knowing that two special grades resided here. You tried to focus your energy on keeping that teleporter opened. Your energy was fading on that specific marker and you could tell many people had unknowingly trampled onto the footstep which gradually made it weaker. Along with the fact that you weren't pouring ridiculous amounts of cursed energy into it. Getting into a defensive position you glared at the demon as he began to attack. Ducking and dodging was your current strategy as you thought about the best way to get Meili and that young boy out of here. Your stamina was decreasing steadily along with your will to fight. You would give it another five minutes before you passed out. Most of your energy had been used up earlier fighting lower ranked demons not to mention having to continuously pour a higher amount of cursed energy into the footprint you left at the entrance.

You would have to put down another footprint in order for Meili and the young boy to be able to escape. The energy in the current one on which they stood was also steadily fading out. It would be less of a strain to make a new marker that can quickly be used than to pour energy into the one on which they stood. Whilst also trying not to get killed. What can you say? You definitely weren't the strongest and you hoped that you'd be able to live in the future where you can fight against a powerful demon and still have large amounts of cursed energy left while using it in a technique. Blocking an attack with your arms you were pushed back but other than the burning sensation you were fine. "Meili! I need you to run at the demon with the boy." You said ducking under a punch.

Meili looked at you worriedly then at the boy whom she was cradling. "You have enough strength to make it! I won't let you get killed I promise. He's our priority remember and you won't stand a chance fighting this demon by yourself." You managed to land a direct hit, buying you a bit of time. "You're the only one that can do this!"

"But you'll die!" Meili choked out.

You smiled at her knowingly, one of your eyes was only half open from the bruising you endured and you were pretty sure half of your ribcage was broken. "That's what I signed up for." You said truthfully. This is a job for which you must be prepared to die. Your dad used to tell you a story about a scarecrow when you were younger. It was a silly tale. One day the scarecrow's friend had been attacked by crows. They pecked and pecked until his friend was no more. The scarecrow was saddened and came off of his post to hold what was left of his friend in his arms. He could hear his friend repeat the motto he lived by. "Those who break the rules are scum, but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum." In the end the scarecrow stayed there until the crows eventually pecked him away as well. You like to think in the end the two friends were united.

With a battle cry you watched Meili charge up behind the demon as you charged at him from the front. Thankfully he was more focused on you then on her. With a stomp you placed down a footprint and slid under the demon. Once he turned around and stepped onto your footprint an explosion ignited from under him. That was your attack called Flash Bomb. It allows you to detonate a footstep. Blinding him for a second, you placed another footprint down and pushed Meili onto it. "Tell sensei and Sugoku I'm sorry." You said before she disappeared as well as the curse energy you felt from the footprint she was teleported to. It seems you're only escape route had left as well. The demon stared at you as he now understood that you're friend had left. A low grumble of a laugh emitted from his throat and you winced as he pushed you into the wall. There goes your vocal cords, now. You couldn't scream for help as his hands were on your throat. So this is how you were going out, strangled to death. Couldn't he have killed you in a less painful way? "I hope whoever should find you next, offers you a swift and painful death." You gasped. His eyes turned red and he cocked his arm back getting ready to punch the life out of you. Shutting your eyes tightly you inhaled sharply and awaited your death. To your surprise a gust of wind was what hit you.

That doesn't make any sense. Opening your eyes you could only see pink hair and a red hood who had caught the demon's arm before it got the chance to hit you. The man before you returned s punch of his own which in return sent the demon soaring to the other end of the room. He turned around to look at you and you gasped for air. You weren't sure if you were that surprised or if it was because you were being choked to death a mere moments before.

".......Yuuji" you hummed a grin on your face. Maybe you would actually get out of this alive.

"Y/n when Gojo said we had to rescue a team I didn't expect it to be yours." He spoke loudly his eyes trailing your body with concern. A part of you almost looked twisted and it scared him to think this is how much damage demons cause average humans with no cursed energy. It hurt him even more to know that this demon had hurt a classmate of his. "Anyway, consider me as backup. I accidentally stepped onto one of your teleporters in the hallway and ended up here." He said with a small smile. You were glad to know that at least a little bit of your cursed energy still resided to activate your technique. "Don't move okay, you look like you're going to fall off your own skeleton." He said before turning around and in the speed of light he had landed an attack on the demon. You couldn't help but wonder what his training process was like or if he was always this physically strong. Your punches only managed to move the beast a few steps back, Yuuji on the other hand had no issues knocking him into the wall.

Your eyes could barely keep up as you watched the two going at it at an incredible speed. Before you knew it though Yuji had taken some damage and slid back right into you. "Your sensei is fine, Gojo is helping her out. He said something about her being weak. Your teammates also made it out with both of the kids safely thanks to you. If I can just keep this up long enough until someone else comes then we have a chance of getting out of this." You could imagine your sensei now, she always had a sweet demeanor but anything about Gojo Satoru made her blood boil. You couldn't really blame her. It was heartwarming to know your teammates were alive and probably waiting on you to join them. You just wished you could do more. Be stronger, have more cursed energy, be able to fight better. Then again this was a demon way out of any student's league.

"I have a plan" you said to him. Yuuji wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you away from the demon who had come speeding at the two of you. When you were within safe distance he removed it. Yuuji wasn't usually the planning type, but he wouldn't knock it if it meant that you'd both be safe. "Okay start talking because he's coming fast." The pink haired male pointed to the approaching demon.

"I'm going to activate my technique! Wherever you see footprints just hit it. As fast as you can and as hard as you can." You said and he nodded. With a cough you did a hand sign and unleashed your technique. "Flash forward!" You exclaimed as footprints began to form on the demon's body. Without further explanation Yuuji launched forward punching the spots with footprints, occasionally he also used one of his known techniques called black flash.

Your technique flash forward allows you to highlight the weak spots on the opponents body. It's in the form of a shoe print. You began sending kicks as you could tell the demon was being affected. That technique took almost all of your cursed energy and the only thing that kept you from fainting was the fear you were experiencing. You and Yuuji stepped back to take a breather. The demon winding up to charge at you again. "You don't happen to have another teleporter hand do ya?" Yuuji frowned.

"Nope." You said simply as you held onto him for dear life. At least you two would die together.

In a flash of light you heard a very familiar voice. "Let me show you what real teleportation looks like." Of course a smirk came along with the delivery of that line. Ah great now the last thing you'd see before death was Gojo Satoru.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

It's been 3 weeks since the fight at the abandoned hospital. It turned out that the two boys went in there to play hide and seek and only got lost and tormented by the demons. Gojo Satoru ended up killing both or the special grade demons and your injuries landed you in the school's own hospital for a week and a half. Turns out you did have a few broken ribs and your vocal cords were slightly damaged. With some rest you'd be fine after some time. It's been a week and a half of steady rest and you would often attend your classes and go to your dorm room to get some shut eye or entertain yourself with some manga and terrible reality TV shows.

Today in particular you were in for a surprise. It wasn't particularly hard to miss a 190 cm man with white hair standing outside your door. Especially when he seemed to be out of uniform. Random visits from Gojo weren't unexpected but they still took you by surprise every now and then. This time it seems he brought something. You kept your head down as you used your keys to open the door to your room and walked inside. He entered too closing the door behind him. "Y/N!" His cheerfully loud voice bounced off your walls. Here we go again. "What aren't you happy to see your favorite cousin?" He said giving you a tight squeeze.

"Gojo...." You squeaked as he was hugging too tightly. Once he let go, you glared up at him. "We are distant relatives. So distant we most likely aren't related."

Gojo tilted his head to the side. "Hmmm, that didn't stop your clan from trying to kill me." He answered and you sighed kicking off your shoes. He was right after all. Even if your clan was a very very distant branch of his they still held on to past grudges and hated how the main family and clan treated them. You understood why your elders were mad but right now the only member who cared to do something about it is a high school teacher and possibly the only person standing in the way of demonic destruction and your lifespan on Earth.

"What brings you here? And with gifts. You don't usually bring me anything." You said taking a seat at your small dining table that only had two chairs. He placed the bags in the middle of the table and sat down on the opposite end.

"Are you trying to say that I don't care for my best cousin?!" He feigned dramatically as he placed his hand over his chest.

"I'm the only one you even know. Besides that's not where your heart is, you maroon." You laughed.

"Oh I know." Gojo smirked. Ah you really did hate him at times. "These" He started off waving his hands around. "Are from Itadori. He wanted me to bring you this soup because he knows about your throat and he was trying to give this to you earlier but he couldn't seem to catch up with you."

Your eyes widened. He actually cared enough to send you soup? This small action only intensified the growing crush you had on him for months now. Well if he bought you the soup then who bought whatever was in the other bag?

Gojo watched your eyes trail over to the bag and he spoke up once more. "Aww glad you noticed your nice older cousin decided to gift you with some sweets." He hummed. "I ate half of them on the way here though." He said laughing his ass off.

"Get out!" You pointed towards the door.

"I would but I do have some compelling news. I heard that your clan was thinking of promoting you due to the skills you showcased during that fight. They thought it was highly commendable and was shocked you were even still alive." He said leaning back in his chair. Ah yes the elders of your clan. You weren't shocked to hear what they thought of you now that your powers have been showcased. They were always focused on status and power. No one even came by to check on you or call in to see how your studies were going. Not when they had others your age who were way above you in terms of skill.

"They can promote someone else. I'm not interested." You said grabbing the soup and started opening it. Who cares if it was cold? You felt like suppressing your anger somehow.

"Isn't this a good opportunity for you?" Gojo asked folding his arms as he quirked an eyebrow.

"Perhaps, if my clan wasn't so power driven." You shoved a spoon into your mouth. They treated weaker members no different than how the main branch treated them, bunch of hypocrites.

"That seems to be a hereditary trait." Gojo said making you laugh. "You know if you really got a handle on your strength and cursed energy limitations you could surpass anyone in your clan." He leaned forward watching you eat. You could catch a glimpse of his eyes when his shades fell a little off his nose. "If I had a cousin like you I'd be proud." You dropped your spoon into the soup a bit frightened by what you had heard. He seemed so genuine about it too. "IF I had a cousin that is." He teased sticking his tongue out at you.

What were you going to do with this idiot? Even if the two of you weren't the best of friends you still shared some familial bond and you viewed Gojo as an older brother in a way. "Anyway I've got to go. Being the strongest doesn't allow me to mope around all day like you do." He said getting up and heading to the door.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out." You grumbled from your seat.

"Y/N please, you know it can't." He turned to leave and you heard the door close. A few seconds later it opened once more. "Do me a favor and ask out Yuuji, he's driving me crazy blabbering on about you." And with that he left and your room was silence once again. Looking down at the soup you could see that it was none other than Alphabet soup Yuuji had gifted you. He wanted you to ask out the guy that gave you alphabet soup? Laughing to yourself you put the lid on and rushed to the kitchen to put the rest away. Maybe you'd take Gojo up on that offer if he wasn't so annoying. You figured Yuuji could bother him some more and talk about his favorite cousin after all. Speaking of the sorcerer, how were you going to thank him?

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

The next few days resulted in you running from Itadori everytime you got the chance. It was harder than it sounded, that boy was fast, really fast! He managed to corner you this afternoon in a hallway. "Y/N! You forgot your homework!" He sped at you like a charging bull waving the paper around. Thanking him you accepted the paper and met his eyes. "It's so hard to catch up up with you." He sighed. "I've been wondering how you were doing after that fight. It was really grueling, and you were in the hospital for weeks! I got out after a couple of days but I do heal a bit quicker than most. I made sure to visit you everyday." He rambled on.

You listened to him and appreciated the fact that he took it upon himself to make daily visits to you. How'd he even manage that everyday? Didn't he have like a busy schedule usually? "What about Sugoku and Meili?" You asked as you began to fold the paper in half.

"What about them?" Yuuji lifted an eyebrow in confusion. The look on his face was so endearing it made you crack a smile.

"Did you visit them too?" You hummed and watched as his face grew surprised and then bashful.

"Ah well...." He started out then looked away. You noticed a tinge of pink on his cheeks. "I....I uh- didn't have the time."

"Itadori you're a terrible liar." You chuckled and he just stared at you for a second before laughing it off. You didn't want to pry but if there was really a reason behind why he visited only you, you'd be pretty ecstatic to hear it. "Thanks for the Alphabet soup by the way. It was really good." You nodded.

"I'm glad you liked it. It's my favorite kind because I can spell out lots of things in it. My favorite thing to spell out is probably my name but I wanna see if it would work using cursed techniques." You saw his eyes light up when he mentioned the latter. Hmm, you suppose that would be interesting.

"I'm willing to test that theory, Yuuji." You made a mental note to buy him alphabet soup if he should ever get sick. Looking down you listened to see if he had anything left to say. After a few moments of silence you started to turn away. "I'll see you in class then! Thanks for the homework!"

"Yeah....see you" You looked back to see him still where you left him, waving at you.

Why didn't you just ask him out?! It's obvious he has to like you right? At least as a friend. Besides he would never turn down food. Stooping in your tracks you clenched your fists and turned around. "Yuuji!" You shouted down the hallway and saw the boy spin around pretty quickly, causing himself to lose his balance for a moment. "Let's go get alphabet soup later!" You said loudly and he gave you a thumbs up.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

It was the weekend. Exactly 3 days since you had asked Yuuji to get some soup with you. It was never specified that it was a date and you honestly didn't mind whether it was or wasn't. I mean how could you now after he had invited his team along too? Kugisaki and Megumi almost seemed like twins sometimes with their reactions to Itadori's odd behavior but then a switch would hit and Kugisaki would be right along with him acting like a fool. Megumi, however was more occupied with his phone or anything else he deemed to be 'less embarrassing than you two'. It was nice seeing their dynamics as your team only had one boy and 2 girls whilst theirs was the opposite.

It was nice making new friends for a change. Kugisaki had worked up quite the rebellious reputation at school but she was really just straightforward about everything. Megumi was feared by quite a few people in your school even in higher grades but he was sort of just a presence in a way. Not positive nor negative just there. Itadori was liked by most people but he wasn't a social butterfly so you enjoyed seeing him relax with his friends.

When Itadori dragged Megumi along to buy something from a store you had the chance to speak with Nobara as the two of you waited for their return. "He's such an idiot." The brunette said glancing in the direction that the two boys had run off to. You stayed quiet wondering if there was more to what she had to say and there was. "This was supposed to be a date right y/n-chan?" Surprised at the honorific attached to the end of your name you shook your head.

"Not really" you dragged out.

"So that's a yes?" Nobara concluded.

"I think its a little too early to go on a date with the guy since he doesn't exactly know how I feel, besides he managed to introduce me to some pretty cool people so I think the alphabet soup was worth it." You laughed.

The rest of the day went by smoothly with the boys hauling all of Nobara's shopping bags. You only bought a few items and was more than happy to carry your own bags to take the load off of the guys. Arriving back at the school you sighed as you flopped onto your bed. What an eventful day. It was pretty funny seeing the things that the team got caught up in even without their teacher around.

I'll take you on a proper date next time, but we still have to get alphabet soup.

A buzz from your phone that was in your pocket alerted you. Reaching to grab it you looked to see that it was from none other than Itadori. It read:

Your eyes widened as you sprung up out of bed. He caught on?! Happily you jumped around your room making a mental reminder to apologize yo your downstairs neighbors if need be. Remembering you still needed to text back you grabbed your phone off the bed.

You've got a deal!

Now who to text first? Nobara, Meili or Miwa?

[joheun-saram]

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 02

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, slow burn, fluff eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut 

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger's house. 

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Everytime he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash. 

As he brushed his teeth today, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year. 

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he doesn’t need the tutoring anymore, he does enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would be an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but everytime he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he can’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head. 

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous.

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez. Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while staring at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh... this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter. 

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

  ____________________________

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it.” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first...” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon... slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session. 

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that. 

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[pips-fics]

enjoy this unsolicited sangyeop fic :’) 

tw: vomiting, fainting

note: please read this as a pre-covid story please because i don’t think anyone would be able to ethically hide their sickness for the sake of a performance right now :’)

yes, in hindsight, sangyeop had made a mistake.  believing his choices to be thoughtless was an understandable conclusion - albeit an incorrect one.

sangyeop’s decisions were always based in a firm understanding of the risks and rewards surrounding his choices.  if anything, he could be said to think too much rather than too little.

so when he woke up with a sick ache in his bones on the day of a live performance, he assessed his options.  

on one hand, he could perform.  he figured the potential for damage was near-negligible, all things considered.  he felt that he could manage to sing well enough to pass as a bit dehydrated, and it wasn’t as though he couldn’t play guitar just because his nose was a bit stuffed up.

and sure, maybe breathing was a moderately more laborious task than normal, but he could handle it.

the alternative was to disappoint his fans, his bandmates, their staff, and himself.  it wasn’t even a risk, then, but a guaranteed failure.  sangyeop had never swallowed failure easily, so he kept his ailment to himself.

by the time they were on stage for soundcheck, sangyeop couldn’t deny feeling a bit rattled.  his brain didn’t seem to be working quite right, and probably it had overheated, if the amount of sweat on his forehead was anything to go by.  meanwhile, his hands were shaking so bad that he felt as though he were trying to play guitar outside in the dead of winter without a coat on.

it was all like this– everything was just rattling around.  it was all so loud, in a clattering kind of way, but the music they played came to him through cotton balls, muted.  it was only the drums that were too loud, every beat pounding in sangyeop’s head, relentless.  when the play-through was over, he asked gwangil if there was anything wrong with his drum set.  gwangil looked at him strangely.

“i don’t think so - the sound crew said everything was alright.  are you okay, hyung?  you look pale.”

he felt grimy and nauseous, but also triumphant.  he’d made it through soundcheck - all of the hard parts of the performance were over now.  next they’d play their three songs and in about 30 minutes, they’d be off the stage.

sangyeop nodded, and perhaps this was stupid and thoughtless.  it was just that right then, his rattling thoughts weren’t making much sense, and his only cohesive thought was that he’d managed to play through their set once; he could do it again, surely.

he made it through a song and a half.  sangyeop himself seemed to be the last to realize when his own vocals cut out; by the time he recognized that the emptiness in the song was his own fault, yechan was frowning at him from across the stage, and wonsang was filling in for him.  something floaty and uncontrollable rose up from sangyeop’s stomach and he thought he was going to throw up.  instead, he had a glimpse of pure alarm on yechan’s face, and then everything darkened in layers upon layers of grey until it was all black.

the next thing sangyeop was aware of was his stomach continuing where it had left off.  in a blurry haze, he sat up and vomited into a magically appearing trash bin.  the world was no longer rattly, but loopy and spinning, so sangyeop quickly squeezed his eyes shut and resigned himself to a lack of understanding for the sake of self-preservation.  he swayed, and a hand on his back steadied him just as he heaved again, loudly this time.  

sangyeop shuddered as the sound of bile splashing against the thin bag lining the trash can echoed in his ears.  sounds were too loud, now.  his jaw ached, but as the nausea intensified again, he wasn’t able to close his mouth as a rush of sick spilled out of him.  he coughed and felt that he would be sick again after, but instead ended up sputtering and retching his until his throat was sore and the sounds around him evened out.  there was a hand brushing through his hair.

“sangyeopie, can you open your eyes please?”  it was yechan.  he sounded upset.  cautiously, sangyeop tried, and was illogically proud when he realized his vision had steadied.

his pride was quickly dissipated when he saw the puffy redness around yechan’s eyes.

“what’s wrong?”  sangyeop asked, and he knew it was the wrong thing to say, and the rawness of his voice made it worse, and he hated the bitterness in yechan’s laugh.

“did you know you were sick?”  yechan responded.  at the same time, wonsang replied, answering sangyeop’s question over yechan’s shoulder.

“you passed out on stage, hyung.  you’re pretty sick.”

the pieces started falling back into place, then.  they were still at the performance venue, in a back room somewhere - which explained why he was laying on a bench rather than a bed.  it didn’t explain why yechan had been crying.

“i’m sorry,” sangyeop said, because it was probably his fault.  he had ruined their performance, after all, and he had failed.

sangyeop always found it entertaining to watch yechan’s expressions change.  it was better than a movie, sometimes, and often told a better story.

now, yechan looked blatantly distraught, and for once sangyeop had to fight the urge to look away.

“why—” yechan cut himself off, and looked away first, and then back, looking somehow even more lost.  mercifully, he continued.  “why didn’t you tell us?”

sangyeop opened his mouth, and then shut it.  gwangil had joined them shortly after sangyeop apologized, and now all three of his bandmates were looking at sangyeop with the same hurt confusion.

he swallowed back the urge to brush them off, and answered as honestly as he could.  “i didn’t want to disappoint… anyone.”  wonsang flinched, and sangyeop rushed to clarify.  “not just you guys!  myself, too, and the fans.”

yechan looked haunted.  “but we wouldn’t have been.  disappointed.”

sangyeop was prepared to protest this, to clarify again, but gwangil bet him to it, nodding his agreement.  “we would have been happy to help, hyung.”

“i just…” sangyeop trailed off.  “i really thought i’d be fine.”

yechan deflated.  “i should have noticed something was off,” he said, in the kind of tiny voice that would have been carried away by the wind, were they outside.  it hurt.

“no, that’s—” for the first time, real regret filled sangyeop’s chest.  “no.  hyung.  i should have told you.  i mean it.  i was being stupid.”

finally - finally! - yechan’s mouth wobbled into a smile.  “well, even you can’t be smart all the time, i guess.”

——

feel free to send asks! | rules

[thatboxylady]

that Otp question list for Jetstorm/Thrust since you're writing that fanfic right now? :3

THANKS it causes me constant pain.

1. Who offers their jacket when the other is cold?

Neither one of them wears jackets. They’re robots. That having been said, if they’re in close proximity, Thrust will notch his engine into a higher gear to kick off some warmth. Jetstorm is built to lose heat as to not cook his internals at high speeds, so his heat sinks and vents can be a real hassle when night falls and the Maximals aren’t giving them the runaround. Having Thrust to act as a personal space-heater is appreciated. 

In humanverse AUs, Thaddeus will offer Jeffery his jacket if need be. Jeffery is almost always guaranteed to turn this down if he’s in earshot of someone else. “The leather clashes with my outfit, sweetheart.” He’ll take it in a heartbeat once they get on the bike, though.  2. Who giggles uncontrollably when the other playfully picks them up? Jetstorm, but it’s that maniac cackling he does throughout the show. Sort of like a rattlesnake’s rattling. The noise is a warning, biker boy. 3. Who compliments the other in front of everyone? Jetstorm does this and his tone makes you think he’s being sarcastic. He’s not. The Maximals and Megatron don’t have to know that, though.  Thrust knows better than to compliment Jetstorm out loud or in too obvious of a way, because the jet will absolutely not shut up about it. You might as well just give Narcissus a whole warehouse full of mirrors. “Who the frag is Narcissus?” “Don’t worry about it, Storm.” 4. Who is more likely to tell the other a pun and what is the other's reaction to the pun? Jetstorm edges Thrust out in this category just barely, because he’s Jetstorm. He lives to run his mouth. Thrust just rolls with the punches as they come and tries not to add fuel to the fire... but sometimes a sigh will get past him. It’s all the acknowledgement that Jetstorm needs to keep being as obnoxious as possible. Thrust uses puns so rarely that when they do stick, Jetstorm is too stunned to react. Other times, Jetstorm goes in for the kill. Thrust is quick to reverse out of harm’s way and make a run for it.   5. When one of them has a bad day, what does the other do to help cheer them up? When Thrust is upset, Jetstorm talks. Sometimes nonstop. Anyone watching (or unfortunately listening) from the outside would view this as counterproductive, but Thrust is... deeply appreciative. Really. The constant stream of thoughts from his friend makes for a good distraction. Jetstorm can be genuinely funny when he wants to be, too. When Jetstorm is upset, Thrust will offer up the idea that they can go out and destroy something. Jetstorm finds that leveling buildings is a great way to relieve stress. 6. If they got to pick what one another wears for a day, what would one another wear? They don’t wear clothes, they’re robots. Jetstorm probably tries to slap some silly bumper stickers on Thrust, though. Probably dumb sayings, but mostly wildly inappropriate. “Just for the day?” “No.” “Please?” “Absolutely not.” Thrust eventually settles for letting Jetstorm put a magnet on him. It says DO YOU FOLLOW PRIMUS THIS CLOSELY? All things considered, it could have been worse. The bike accepts this as a hollow victory. Humanverse Jeffery keeps trying to dress Thaddeus up to make him look more “gay friendly.” Thaddeus can appreciate that, but no, he is not going to wear fishnets to work. Not unless Jeffery wears something else other than rubber pants and thigh-high boots. Sweats and sneakers, maybe. They are an an impasse.  7. Who introduces their partner to their family first? How does it go? They are their own family! Everyone left Jetstorm and Thrust alone and they are very happy by themselves. Most of Thaddeus’ family still deadnames him so introducing them to Jeffery is not an option. Jeffery is not above taking a baseball bat to people he has just met. Megan has him on his payroll for a reason. Someone called him a slur once and he slashed their neck open with a busted beer bottle. 8. In a coffee shop AU, who would be the coffee shop employee and who would be the customer? Thaddeus is the very tired and apathetic employee. Jeffery won’t get coffee unless his favorite barista is there.  9. When they sit side by side, do they touch one another? For example, does one person has their arm around the other, do they sit holding hands, or linked arms, ECT. If Maximals are close by, they’ll put some distance between them. They both understand that it’s best not to... advertise. Especially while Blackarachnia is around. There’s some bad blood there. When they’re on their own, Thrust will bring themselves thisclose and maintain that distance with mechanical precision. He won’t initiate contact unless he knows he has explicit permission. Jetstorm can be touchy.  Jetstorm is the patron saint of Public Displays of Affection and is always grabbing (or otherwise jostling) Thrust around in some capacity when he’s in the mood for it. 10. What is a small thing that one another does to make their partner happy? Thrust is naturally very quiet. When he does start talking, it makes Jetstorm... almost unreasonably happy. Almost, because of course he’s not going to admit to that sentimental drivel. Contrary to popular belief, the jet doesn’t always like listening to the sound of his own voice. Thrust has a nice and smokey vocal codec. It’s nice to hear him put it to good use.  Watching Jetstorm thrash Maximals is always a nice little pick-me-up, Thrust thinks. 11. What would they do to celebrate their one year anniversary? Jetstorm is very loud about it and peppers Thrust in thinly concealed affection. Thrust endures.  12. When did they know that they loved each other, and when did they first tell each other that they loved one another? "We’re... friends?” “Why not?”  There’s never an actual admission between the two of them. It’s just... sort of presumed at a certain point and never discussed further. When an I love you is exchanged for the first time, they don’t make a big deal out of it. They already knew. 13. Who likes to give the other hugs from behind followed by a kiss? Jetstormmmm he’s the King of PDA. 14. Who would make a playlist for the other person? What would be featured on the playlist? Thrust is voiced by Jim Byrnes who is an actual blues singer, so. Thrust. Most definitely. It’s all blues and soft rock.  If Jetstorm did it’d be lots of Elton John. Also (unfortunately) Phil Collins. There’s a song called Bad Romance is in there somewhere. You know which one. 15. Who would bring their partner on a romantic date under the stars? Thrust would be more likely to do it because he knows Jetstorm likes open skies. Jetstorm would do it because he knows Thrust is affectionate like that. Urgh. Horrible. “This is exactly why the spider thought you were Silverbolt, you know.” “Please shut up, Storm. I am begging you.” “Why were you into her, anyways? Was it the tits?” “JETSTORM.” 

[neopolitans-neo]

The Misfortunate Adventures of Miss Ice Cream and Mr Torchwick: Act I

This is my back story for our favourite partners in crime, criminal masterminds and rivals of Team RWBY. Not sure how many chapters it will be, guess it’ll depend on the feedback I get and my creativity and patience.

This first chapter I am picturing a young Neo before she has the pink in her hair. The subtle changes of appearance will come in a later part, I already have it planned out in my head. c:

For as long as Neo was alive all she could feel was constant burning in her throat. She had never been able to speak. Even as a baby, apparently she never cried or screamed or made any noises at all. One would think it was a parents dream but ... apparently not. Some people are not made to have children. Among those are parents who do not wish to deal with any specific needs their child may have that they were not anticipating. When doctor after doctor said that there was too much damage to the young child’s vocal cords to fix without extensive surgeries and excessive healing and down time, her parents gave up on her. They put up with their mute child for six months, before deciding to leave her on a neighbours doorstep and skipping out of town. She had no name left with her, no trace of her family. Nothing except her inability to cry out for help.

The neighbours did not ask for a child so they dropped her off a at a hospital, who then transported her to child care facility and eventually she found herself in an orphanage, with countless other children screaming for attention around her. There was no way for her to get any medical attention there, and so even as a baby, she learned that being nice and patient never got you what you wanted. Many times she would not get any food, because the other kids were louder than her. She learned to crawl and walk on her own with no one noticing, or caring. The other kids talked and the young girl tried to copy their mouths but no words or sounds ever came out. On her third birthday they brought in a speech therapist, who said that the girl was a lost cause. On her forth birthday they brought her to a doctor who said that he could try an experimental and expensive surgery but there was no guarantee of it working. The orphanage did not have the money to do any such thing and so she suffered in silence still without so much as a name.

No kid had the patience to become friends with the weird kid who did not talk. And no adult wanted to adopt a child that they did not know how to speak with. By the time she was five she had learned that this would be her life. The last one for everything, the one who had to sneak food and break into the office after hours to get any type of colouring book and be able to play with the toys. She learned all the in’s and out’s of this orphanage. Being mute also meant that she was constantly underestimated. Although she was lonely, she did not know any other way and so, she learned to be happy in her own strange ways.

But then one day, there was a fire. The orphanage was burned to the ground and she herself barely escaped. Of course during roll-call, she was forgotten, but she snuck out through a back entrance and ran away in terror. She was now seven years old and didn’t know any better. She ran and kept running, wanting to scream for help but not being able to. Since she had left through the back she did not see where all the other kids went and ended up lost, afraid and completely on her own. Her bright brown eyes danced around for somewhere safe to go but came upon nothing. They grew heavy and tired, her body ached and she longest for her small, uncomfortable, cold bed. Instead she found a tree that cast a long shadow and someone’s lost sweater to use as a blanket. It would have to do. She curled up, eyes pooling with tears and eventually fell asleep.

When she awoke it was to someone sliding the sweater off of her, trying to be sneaky. One eye popped open and she saw a tuft of red hair going through the pockets. In a split second she decided to jump up, grab the sweater away from the boy and then twirl it around fast enough that it came back and tripped the young man.

Her plan worked and he fell on his bottom. With a scowl he said, “What was that for?”

She could not reply to say that it was him who started the altercation so instead she held the sweater to her chest and glared, daring him to try something again. It didn’t go as she had expected cause now that he could get a good look of her he sighed, “Dammit, you’re one of those orphans aren’t you?”

She tilted her head.

“In the fire? Heard the place burned down and now our home is overfilled with you guys. Guess that means you won’t have any food to take.” He crossed his arms and sat on the ground next to her. His stomach rumbled and Neo continued starring at him out of curiosity. He went on talking, “We had lots of food before you guys all came and lived with us. This morning I only got scraps for breakfast and they told me to get used to it. Lots of kids will be living here now, we will have to share our space, food toys. So I was hoping that I could find at least an apple or something out here. I’m starving.”

Now she understood, this boy was also from the orphanage. From a different one from hers but she supposed that all the kids from hers just moved to his. At least she knew where to go now though. She sat beside him then pointed behind them, trying to ask if that was where he came from. Now it was his turn to look at her weird. “Can’t you talk?” He asked abruptly.

She shook her head and pointed to her throat.

“You can’t talk? And you’re an orphan. Jeez, you’ve got it worse than me kid. My parents died last year and no one wants a nine year old. Now I’m ten, practically an adult and will never be adopted. But they’d probably take me before they’d take a deaf kid.”

She stood up and put her arms on her hips, pointed to her ears and at him, then at her throat again.

Somehow he seemed to understand what she meant. “Okay okay, not deaf but- well you know what I mean.”

She didn’t answer him but looked around again before shrugging and pointing in a direction.

“Are you asking... where the orphanage is?” He guessed and she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s this way,” he got up and led their way back.

When they arrived one of the women let out a sigh of relief when she saw her. “Oh thank goodness the mute girl is back. We all thought you burned in there.” She was getting scolded... for nearly dying. If she could speak she would scream at the top of her lungs about how unfair everything was, but instead she just had to take it. “You should know the plan little girl. When there is a fire you go to the front door and we escort you out. The insurance nightmare if you had burned to a crisp... I am having a heart attack just thinking about it. Now go inside and have your lunch and do not put a toe out of line again.”

“Sheesh,” the boy whispered to Neo once they were out of ear shot. “Did you start the fire or something?”

She shook her head and looked down, then back at them and shrugged her shoulders.

“Must be tough not. being able to talk for yourself. Do they always treat you like that? I know they’re not very nice but... they seemed extra mean to you. Do they even know your name?”

She shook her head more sadly again. Ever since she arrived at the orphanage, she had always been referred to as ‘girl’, ‘child’ or simply, ‘mute’.

He asked something she didn’t expect next, “Do you know your name?”

Again, all she could do was shake her head and the boy frowned.

“Well, mine is Roman, if you ever think of yours maybe you could write it down for me!”

Her brows furrowed and she shrugged.

“Like, with a pencil or something... do you know how to write?”

A stiff head shake this time.

“Maybe I can teach you some time- you know when we could at least pass notes or something and I don’t have to always guess what you’re saying?”

This made her whole body perk up, did this boy- Roman, intend to keep on talking to her, almost like a friend? Didn’t he have some of his own already?

“If you wanna try to communicate that is. I’m not really friends with any of the other kids here, they’re too young. Not many older kids, they usually run away. I was thinking about it but I don’t know where to go.”

They took their seats in the cafeteria and received their lunches. Three apple slices, some leftover porridge and a quarter sandwich. “Is this it?” He complained loudly and one of the women took away his sandwich.

“Not if you complain Torchwick.” The lady said harshly and gave the sandwich to someone else instead.

He whined out loudly but beside him, his new friend passed her porridge to him. She hated hot foods, it hurt her throat to eat. Plus he had been nice to her so far and she wanted some way to repay him. He looked puzzled at her gesture. “Won’t you be hungry?”

With a shake of her head she sucked on her apple slices instead and pushed it closer to him, insisting that he took it. He did and they both ate contently and ended up spending the rest of the day together.

And the day after that, the day after that, the week after that and nearly a year later they had never been apart for more than the few hours of sleep that thy got since the boys and girls had to sleep in different rooms. But sometimes they would meet up at night and sneak into the kitchens for snacks, her favourite was always ice cream and Roman would tuck some crackers or bread in his pockets to save or later. The two became the best of friends. And when she was ten and he was thirteen he decided that he was now an adult. Neither of them were ever going to be adopted and adults certainly did not need to live in dirty orphanages. The problem was lien... but he found a job for the both of them. It was a shady man who said he sold dust and needed them to help transport dust from their ‘factory’ to their ‘customers.’ Roman and the girl had over heard him whispering to his boss that he had the perfect solution since no one would ever suspect two kids and they barely had to pay them anything cause kids were dumb and didn’t know any better. Roman did not like that implication but did see how he could make some extra lien out of it. In the end they came to a deal. The man rented them a small room to share and supplied them with food. While the two of them now had to work seven nights a week making these special deliveries and never saying so much as a word about it. Everyone was happy. Roman was glad to have a place that him and his nameless best friend could live and the man was happy to have someone who literally could not speak and someone else who would not speak, working for him.

They did this job until Roman was 18, legally an adult and now with 5 years behind him of getting to know all the shadiest people of Vacuo. She was still a kid, at fifteen, but the pair of them had discussed in length what they would do when he was old enough to get a real job. They knew that what they were transporting was not dust. Or perhaps just not legally dust. And they knew that the cut their employers was getting was much higher than they were. They wanted in. They wanted to be able to take Neo to a doctor and see if they could do anything about her speech and then move into a nicer place and make actual money instead of being paid in cheap, probably stolen, groceries. And now it seemed like the best time to do it. All the contacts knew and liked Roman and his nameless friend. (She could never decide on a name she liked and also did not see the need of having one, he would just call her ice cream due to how quickly she always ate all the ice cream and her employers just called her brown eyes or mute.) 

Roman tried to strike a deal, it didn’t work and instead he lost their ‘job.’ Apparently criminals did not like to pay their staff very well and also did not like being called criminals. But this did not bother him. He could get a real job now, save up money for Miss Ice Cream and they could start a real life together.

tbc

[diabolik-trash-heap]

My Top 10 Utapri songs:

Since @lazarustrashpit tagged me for album/song thing and I pretty much listened to nothing but Utapri music this year, I figured I would just do a top ten Utapri songs:

1. Night Dream (Masato Hijirikawa, Tokiya Ichinose, Cecil Aijima, Camus, Ai Mikaze) - God where do I start with this one. I think I fell in love with it the moment it first popped up on Shining Live and jumped right into the chorus on the song selection screen.  Everything about the song is just...beautiful. The lyrics, the melodies, the music itself, the artwork (I have the art for all the boys framed above my bed). And then I heard the off-vocal for the first time a few months ago which I love just as much, and almost sounds like a different song at some points. I don’t think a day has gone by I haven’t listened to it at least a few times and I’m sure everyone has to be tired of my shit by now LOL I’m glad nobody is usually around when I re-watch the performance in the 6th live over and over again.

2. God’s Star (Quartet Night) - Another song I can’t go a day without listening to it. Quartet Night was so, soooo robbed that they didn’t win with that song because I’m sorry , it completely blows “We are Starish” out of the water.  I love the build up to that amazing chorus and that feeling like I’m cheering them on as I sing along. It gets me so hyped every damn time. The day it appears in SL if ever guaranteed I will be a sobbing mess because I have been asking for this forever.

3. Ultra Blast (Starish) - This song also gets me pumped. It pulls no punches as to the kind of song it is front the get go. I consider this the Starish equivalent of “God’s Star” when it comes to the kind of energy it produces. The beatmap for it in SL is fun as hell, albeit a bit hard, and it one of my favorites in the game. Of course watching it performed in Maji Love Kingdom only further cemented my love for it and I’m dying to watch the performance in it again.  Sentai Filmworks when?

4. Force Live (Quartet Night) - This was the first song I ended up liking (and pretty much the start of it all) when I first started playing Shining Live and generally getting into Utapri. I have watched the video for this more times than I care to admit, to the point the entire dance routine is pretty much ingrained in my head. I actually teared up watching it performed live for the first time in Quartet Night Live Future.

5. Hurray x 2 Dreamers (Reiji Kotobuki) - I feel like I discovered this one kind of late. I should slap myself for being such a Reiji stan failure for that one, but I didn’t really pick up on this one until the Ski Reiji event and playing it over and over and over again (over 150 or so times?). Honestly that shit should make most people hate it.  Except people like me who are worse than little kids and Baby Shark. It’s so fun and bouncy and the lyrics are adorable, especially the line about the Kotobuki stamp of love.  

6. Maji Love 2000 (Starish) - I’m kind of not the biggest fan of the Maji Love songs from Starish. I like them, but I generally don’t seek them out, although the performances are fun as hell to watch and sing along to in the lives.  That being said, I fucking love Maji Love 2000 and the second I hear “Nissen pa, saiko na love!” my mood immediately rises. I have to give credit to Starish for the fact their songs always sound like they are having fun together singing it and actually love singing with one another. The energy is infectious. 

7. Non-Fiction (Ranmaru Kurosaki and Camus) - Oh lord this was a banger the moment the preview came out for it. Play this at my funeral. I love the back and forth singing between the two, especially perfect given the character’s general animosity towards each other. Please watch the live version of this in Live Future if you have not.  Tatsu and Maeno are cocky as fuck and nail the song so perfectly.

8. Never (Reiji Kotobuki) - I’m kinda sad that “Hurray x 2″ trumped this one as my favorite Reiji song, because this is the quintessential Reiji song to me.  I can’t look at a Ferris wheel without thinking of this song. It’s also the title of my favorite Utapri episode (what a shocker) so it holds a special place in my heart. It’s sweet, romantic, and makes you wanna dance with him all night long. I’m in constant awe how a lot of the solo songs are composed so well to fit the character that’s singing it, and this one is no exception.

9. Original Resonance (Tokiya Ichinose and Masato Hijirikawa) - You know it almost took me a good year to master the beatmap for this one? I love the song but holy shit is that song a bitch to play. This is a perfect pairing of voices if I ever did hear one. Again I love how they play off each other’s singing. And you know it’s always fun to whisper Original Resonance when these two appear together.

10. Top Star Revolution (Natsuki Shinomiya) - Kishow is a powerhouse when it comes to singing. In fact he is my favorite vocalist out of the bunch (gomen, gomen Reiji but Kishow hits me in all the areas). Another SL beatmap I absolutely love to play. It’s fast, it’s pounding, the wonderful sweetness of the viola playing against those electronic beats, and ugh those high notes. It’s a ride from start to end.  Ah my princess indeed.

Runners-up - The World is Mine, Lost Alice, Setsugetsuka, Dancing Over Night, Colorfully Spark, I Swear, Be Proud

I’m going to tag @ranmarukurosakis, @singergurl91, @lazarustrashpit, and whoever else wants to do this.

[maxthommusic]

The Rest of Us

The Last of Us 2 has been spoiled. The leaks are out and the ending has been revealed. At least that's my understanding. That's what my Twitter feed has led me to believe. I haven't looked into them, and for the record, it's been pretty easy to avoid. But the one type of comment I haven't been able to avoid is the person claiming to cancel their pre-order since they now know what the ending is. This type of reaction is absolutely bonkers to me and I wonder if I'm alone in this?

While the ending to a game is undoubtedly an egregious spoiler, I don't think it means you have just cause for canceling a pre order and skipping the experience entirely. Some comments I've seen are, "Thanks for saving me $60, I don't need to play this now." This has been exclaimed in relation to not only knowing the ending, but simply not liking the ending. To explain slightly further, some people are upset they know the ending and think, "What's the point?" while others find the conclusion lacking and have decided to skip the experience altogether then.

For starters, games are the sum of their parts. Rarely does a video game succeed on one facet alone. And especially in the case of "The Last of Us 2 v the World," TLOU will 100% be about the total package. Just look at Uncharted. This lauded series is often mocked for how unpolished its gunplay is. Yet it's still considered to be legendary and has sold millions and millions of copies worldwide. It's because the story being told is an exciting, rip-roaring adventure. And lemme tell ya: if I judged Uncharted based on any of its beginnings and endings, I'd have missed out on something truly wondrous. Which seems completely obvious. But is it?

The "vocal minority" is so loud these days it's really hard to know who to trust. While you may criticize capitalism for being evil, money certainly does talk. Numbers don't often lie and when Naughty Dog first decided to be open about Ellie's sexuality, they took a major PR hit. People were pissed. Right...?

Critics loved the additional TLOU DLC and if you search TLOU fan art, a significant amount of fans have chosen to remember those additional scenes as some of the fondest. But that's the interesting part: you have to dig for that. You have to go looking for it. People's chagrin at making Ellie gay is what's served right on the table, unfortunately. But the amount of copies TLOU has sold since its launch and the amount of pre-orders Sony saw coming piling in proves that for the number of people who seem upset, the money is still pouring in to tell the story they want to tell.

Just look at micro transactions. Everyone hates them right? Then how come they generate millions, in some cases billions, of dollars in revenue?

It's time now, more than ever, to vote with your wallet. Games are only becoming harder and more expensive to create. What succeeds is determined by your spending. If you choose not to spend your hard earned cash on TLOU2, that's completely your prerogative. But damn, I hope it's for the right reason. There are stories to be told here and how TLOU2 ends is not how we're gonna remember it. The journey of how we got there is what's gonna replay in your mind's eye. Which, I understand: knowing the ending means you already comprehend all the foreshadowing and where's the surprise in that? But think of all the gorgeous graphics, textures, and details you'll miss. Think of all the side dialog and environmental storytelling that will go completely missed. There will be no triumph over adversity, no deep breath when the dust has settled. All these things cannot be spoiled by knowing the ending. To cancel your preorder because on these grounds is just childish. Worse because we all know you had to go looking for that leak. Or, at least, you didn't try very hard to get outta the way.

Quick tips for avoiding spoilers: 

#1: Skip past all articles including the subject matter's title

#2: Do not read the comments on ANYthing related to the subject matter

Honestly, that's it. One-two punch. I live by these guidelines and it works hella good for me. Ain't nothing ever been spoiled for me. 

TLOU2 is gonna break sound ground. I practically guarantee it. I'm not even excited for the game because I find the universe simply too bleak for my tastes... but as an intellectual, I'm telling ya: this shit is gonna rock. If you've found some reason to skip it, that's all you. But for the rest of us, get your negativity outta here. As a whole the gaming industry is just way too toxic and anyone involved with the TLOU2 leaks needs a spanking. I'm of the firm belief that anyone willing to even click the link and read the spoilers is a stain on our community. Who does that? Who has the desire to see the ending to one of the most hyped games of this generation?

Obviously a scumbag. Or someone not even remotely interested in TLOU2. Which begs the same response to both situations: we don't want your opinion. Leave the fun, intrigue and wonder to those that have an actual love and passion for this industry. Stop the toxic dialogue and let us enjoy our games in peace. Devs will rest easier, dialogue between gamers could stabilize and the Internet might be a bit of a nicer place...

But that's all wishful thinking. 

Here's to Naughty Dog and The Last of Us 2. I hope it captivates us like we've all been expecting. Send the devs some nice notes. I bet they'd love to hear it.

[kiruuuuu]

Oneshot in which Blitz embarrasses himself. It’s based on this story which showed up on my dash a few days ago and I highly encourage a read, though it obviously contains spoilers for this :) - written for @magehir to trigger her second hand embarrassment ♥♥ (Rating M, humour, ~1.3k words)

.

“Elias, do you have some time?”

At the mention of his name, Blitz looks up from where he was previously occupied with demolishing the sandwich Rook shoved into his hands as soon as he noticed tomatoes on it – the young man being a picky eater definitely has its perks and already ensured Blitz wouldn’t go hungry despite lacking the time to organise his own lunch several times. Often enough, in fact, that he’s been contemplating whether Rook really dislikes this many vegetables or whether he simply needs an excuse to guarantee that Blitz doesn’t forget to eat. “I’ng eaking”, he mumbles a response directed at Jäger who’s hovering in the doorway to the canteen.

“Ah sure, don’t let me interrupt you. I can wait until you’re done.” He strolls in and joins the German-French table at which IQ and Twitch are wholly engrossed as much in their technical babble as in each other, leaving Doc, Rook and Blitz to their meals. While he finishes up the really quite excellent sandwich, Jäger jokes with Doc and even manages to coax out a smile out of the vaguely stressed-looking Frenchman, earning himself a grateful look from Rook who’s been attempting the same yet largely failed.

Eventually, Blitz downs his bottle of water and turns to his teammate expectantly. “Alright. What is it?”

Jäger looks momentarily confused before he remembers that he was the one seeking out the other German. “Oh! Yes. I wanted to know whether you could lend a helping hand to managing the recruits. I would, but I genuinely don’t want to.”

Blitz snorts – though he can’t say he blames Jäger for the sentiment, this year’s batch are far from the sharpest tools in the shed, yet they’re aptly described as tools nonetheless. The mechanic especially has no patience for anyone who doesn’t immediately understand (or rather mind reads) his quick half-explanations. Unfortunately, nearly everyone in Rainbow falls under this category and the recruits even more. Blitz vividly remembers Jäger’s presentation of his magpies which consisted of one extremely long as well as extremely specific explanation no one even had a chance to comprehend, before he pulled the pin and threw a live grenade into the small group of hopeful soon-to-be operators for a demonstration. Since none of them realised the ADS would save their lives, one started screaming, another jumped into a third recruit’s arms and a fourth almost fainted. Jäger wisely kept his distance after that.

“Let’s go then”, Blitz agrees and they get up together, casually make their way to the training grounds in Hereford. “Who’s in charge of them at the moment?”

“Dom”, comes the curt answer and Blitz winces in sympathy. Where Jäger has no patience for (perceived) incompetence, Bandit punishes according to boringness. He prides himself with his creativity and cunning and thus expects no less from their fledglings – or so he says. Blitz is convinced it’s nothing more than an excuse to torture them with practical jokes and make them afraid to sleep at night.

Speaking of which, even at this distance, Blitz can hear the first screams. Not very promising. “How many have cried so far?”

“Today? Two”, Jäger replies nonchalantly, quite obviously impervious to the outcries of pain echoing oddly over the grounds, “out of five. A third had to be persuaded to come out of the bathroom after he locked himself in. Dom’s having the time of his life.”

Apparently so, judging by the fact that the yells have not subsided, quite the opposite. “Which is probably why you asked me to help.”

The closer they get, the louder the wails. Jäger shrugs. “You don’t have anything important to do today and Mike’s gonna be furious if Dom injures any of them to the point where they can’t train anymore. I think it’s better if you keep an eye on him.”

Dear Lord, what is he doing to this poor recruit? Blitz grows increasingly concerned and Jäger’s words do nothing to appease him. “The hell is he doing? Testing interrogation techniques?”

Even though that’s exactly what it sounds like, Jäger shakes his head, indifferent. “Just some field training. To be honest, he’s probably gonna be relatively pleasant for the rest of the day so he can crank it up tomorrow again, so if you find something better to do, rather do it today.”

They’re entering the building now, the howling worryingly loud at this point and crassly at odds with Jäger’s relaxed attitude – Blitz has noticed his friend’s lack of empathy for anyone he thinks a moron, though he wouldn’t have guessed him this unconcerned about physical violence this harsh. There’s faint skin on skin slapping now, indicating Bandit is seriously beating someone up and Blitz inadvertently speeds up his steps to put an end to this sooner rather than later.

“It’s over here”, Jäger leads them to one of the rooms, the horrifying noises merely growing in volume the closer they get, and reaching distressing levels right as they step through the door.

Yet Blitz does not expect to be facing this.

It’s almost comical and reminds him of primary school: the recruits sitting in a half circle in front of Bandit who’s perched on a chair, seemingly content in merely recounting a story judging by everyone’s rapt expressions. There’s no abuse going on, nothing to explain the terrible noises.

Which… still haven’t ceased, mystifyingly enough.

Literally everyone is staring at the two newcomers now, Bandit with a deep frown probably due to the interruption and the recruits wholly bewildered for some reason. Blitz is still struggling to process what’s going on when Bandit pats down his pockets and murmurs: “It’s not mine this time.”

The small gesture is what does him in. Blitz’ eyes widen in utter panic, the shock so sudden that his knees go weak and his fingers fumble upon desperately clawing at his back pocket, nearly dropping his phone and yes, it’s his, though he has absolutely no clue how this happened. Regardless, the screen quite unambiguously shows two muscled guys going at it with enviable enthusiasm while producing a neverending series of throaty and unrestrained noises and Blitz wants to sink into the ground, evaporate, cease to exist this instant. Frantically, he stabs his phone with a fingertip until not only the sound is turned off but also the display yet the following silence is almost worse. His cheeks are on fire.

The recruits are still staring, visibly uncomfortable, while Bandit’s lips have stretched into the widest, meanest and most delighted grin Blitz has ever seen in his entire life.

Next to him, Jäger casually comments: “Nice cock.”

He wants to fucking die. “I gotta go”, he addresses no one in particular and turns on his heel, strides down the corridor and tries to shut out Bandit’s unapologetic hyena laugh trailing after him: gleeful and a touch hysteric. He almost misses the handle on the way out yet barely manages not to run into the door head first.

A few seconds later, Jäger has caught up with him, curiously watching him from the side. “You know that he’s gonna teach them phrases to embarrass you in German now, right?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it”, Blitz moans into his hands and hides his bright red face in shame.

“Also that looked fucking hot. Did you wank to it earlier?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you please just -”

“I’m just saying. Because if you did, then you should probably agree to a date with Julien.”

Blitz momentarily forgets about his mortification and turns to Jäger, aghast. He’s been Rook’s most vocal advocate, urging Blitz to give him a chance. “Are you… are you going to tell him if I don’t?”

And Jäger’s smirk is answer enough.

[gingywritesimagines]

Mistakes and Decisions (Part 2)

Title: Mistakes and Decisions

Chapter: 1 2

Fandom: Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda/Love, Simon

Pairing: Leah Burke x reader, platonic!Simon Spier x reader

Description: After the Halloween party, you look to start anew, but that proves difficult when the person you’re trying to move on from seems to be absolutely everywhere. It gets worse when one of the friends you seek comfort in has his respect, privacy, and well-being violated in the worst way.

Warnings: cursing, public outing, M*rtin *ddison being his evil self, Simon Spier is sad and that makes everyone else sad

A/N: Part 2 is here! School is back in session and I am crying the gayest of tears- hence why the September chapter is being published now. This part has about as much M*rtin hating as the last chapter so yaaay FUCK M*RTIN. This also puts a lot more attention on the reader and their friendship with Simon, and their transition in friend groups. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @fandomsneverdie14 @mcoomcoo @tina20213 @berry-kitten-paws @caelestii-e @sims4ccshopingcart

Months after the Halloween party, you had been trying your best to live a blissful, Martin-free life. You’d been spending more and more time with Simon, Leah, and their friends. Bram and Nick often talked to you about lunchtime snacks or soccer- sometimes even asking you if you could come film their practice. Abby would plan girls nights with you and Leah, seemingly determined to have at least one stereotypical, 90s-teen-movie-esque sleepover. Garrett felt a lot safer about hanging out with you, but he would sometimes still apologize for what happened, still feeling like it was kind of his fault. 

Simon was kind and comforting- as always- but something felt off. You’d sometimes notice him slink off into another room, Martin either closely behind or leading the way. You were sorta worried; your first thought on the situation being that either Martin was scheming his way back into your life through Simon, or Simon was dragging Martin away to guarantee he wouldn’t talk to you. Either way you were concerned, but you decided it’d be best not to think much of it, and shook those thoughts out of your head to tune back in to Taylor Metternich’s speech about her Christmas plans.

“-after swimming with dolphins, we fly to Saint Martin for New Years. Anyone else? Christmas in the Caribbean?” 

You rolled your eyes, sharing a look with Simon as you folded yet another play program. Simon chuckled slightly before answering Taylor.

“Staying here. We have a classic Spier tradition of French toast on Christmas eve.”

“I’m staying too.”

“I’m going to an unheated vacation house in the middle of nowhere.” your band friend, Cal Price, groaned, “As is our bleak family tradition.”

Before anyone else could answer Taylor, Martin shot out of his seat, “Ow! Ow! Oh, man. Ow.”

“You okay?” Simon asked, clearly unamused.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a papercut.”

“Overdramatic.”

“Um, Simon, do you know where the bandages are?” he asked, leaning in uncomfortably close.

“Uh, yeah.” Simon muttered, turning back to the program in his hand, “They’re in the supply closet.”

“Okay, do you mind showing me?”

At that question, everyone paused and eyed Martin suspiciously. He’s 17 and he can’t find the damn band-aids himself? Before anyone questioned him though, Simon stood with an exasperated sigh. Martin smirked as he watched Simon lead the way.

“He’s like a nurse, this man.”

Everyone was at least a little confused as they watched Simon and Martin slink off into the distance, but no one said anything for the rest of the day. After that, you noticed Martin hanging out with Abby and her friends a lot more, Simon shooting you an apologetic half-smile as you left to sit with Suraj. You saw minor bits of unaddressed tension happening within that friend group, and you were honestly a little surprised that they made it to the homecoming game together.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Simon called, ushering you over to sit next to Abby on the bleachers, “How’s it going?”

“I’m good.” you smiled, sitting down, “How are you guys?”

“I’m okay.” Abby smiled, leaning the bag in her hands so the opening was closer to you, “Popcorn?”

“Sure, thanks!”

You popped a fistful of popcorn in your mouth as Leah answered your question, “We’re good. Nick and I just came from dinner.”

You almost choked, “Dinner?”

“Yeah, I took Leah out for dumplings. It was a nice date, we had a good time.” Nick answered, “Right, Leah?”

“Yeah, I had a great time.”

Your heart sank at that. You were happy for them, you were, but some part of you was screaming- some part of you was breaking at the idea of Leah going on a date with someone else. You two weren’t joined at the hip, and it wasn’t like you’d told her you liked girls, but that didn’t change the smile that popped onto your face every time she entered the room, or the years of butterflies she never failed to give you...

...before you could ponder any further on the subject, the field’s sound system crackled to life.

“Please stand for the national anthem.”

As everyone stood, Taylor walked up to the platform they’d put down as a stage, “This goes out to all the refugees... and my vocal coach, Monica Lewis. O say can you see, by the dawn's early light, what so proud...” Before she had even finished the first part of the song, the Creekwood mascot ran up to the platform, wrestling the microphone out of Taylor’s hands, “What the hell are you doing?” 

Grabbing the mic, the bear ripped the costume’s head off to reveal Martin, “Hi everyone. Uh, sorry to interrupt.”

“Why are we interrupting the national anthem?” You heard Mr. Worth ask uncertainly.

“But I have something to say... that's a little more important than the national anthem. No offense, America. Abigail Katherine Susso…”

As he said that, Abby squeezed herself between you and Simon, and you could have sworn you’d heard her whisper, “How does he know my middle name?”

“-when you transferred to Creekwood High School, just a short three and a half months ago, you not only transferred into a new school, you transferred your way into a new heart, belonging to me. My heart. Right here. And whether it was being your partner in pong, or your Waffle House warrior, I have cherished the 135,300 minutes that we've spent together. Oh, I'm sorry. 135,301 minutes. And I know that you're this smart, talented, perfect creature. And, uh, I'm just a sweaty schlub in a bear costume. But like old Bogie used to say, it's a ‘crazy mixed-up world.’ So, Abby, without further ado... will you go out with me?”

With every word he said, Abby sunk further and further into you and Simon, but she reluctantly sat up to go answer him. Some random crowd member shouted “she’s too hot for you, assface” as she squeezed her way to the front of the bleachers.

“Martin, I am so sorry, I don’t feel that way about you.”

“You don’t?”

“No. But I really like hanging out with you and I don’t know, maybe we could still be friends, you know?”

“Yeah.”

In that moment, your phone buzzed. As you pulled it out of your pocket, you saw a notification from a walkie-talkie app that Martin had made you get ages ago. You opened the app to hear Suraj’s voice on the other end.

“What did she say? Should I release them?”

“Them?” You asked quietly, “Suraj, does Martin have birds prepared for this or something?”

“Doves, yeah. I have no clue where he got ‘em tho-”

“Suraj.” You sighed, deciding that now would be when you got your revenge, “Release the doves.”

After a couple of seconds, you heard soft gasps from a few places, and Leah was one of them, “Are those doves?”

“No, no, hey, hey! Suraj! Hey! No, no! She said no!” Martin cried, waving his arms wildly, which Suraj took to mean ‘open the other cage’, “No, don't!”

The crowd started laughing as the second set of doves flew away, and you heard Nick mutter to Simon, “Yo, I thought you said she liked him.”

“She might’ve.” You answered, “But the humiliation he just put her through probably ruined it.”

“Not the ceremonious dove launch I was hoping for. But still uplifting to free some birds. Yeah. Okay, uh... Enjoy the game.” Martin was clearly trying to remain positive, but everyone was more focused on Abby’s feelings.

“That was terrible.” She muttered, sitting back down between you and Simon.

“Are you okay?” You asked, suddenly regretting the dove decision.

“Yeah. It’s nice that Suraj released the doves even when I said no. Expose Martin for going way too big for something like this, ruin his moment, save those poor birds.” She smiled at you, but her eyes showed she was kinda uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry.” Simon assured her, “People will get over it in a few weeks.”

Contrary to what Simon predicted, the whole incident had become a massive meme on CreeksSecrets and although Abby hadn’t had to deal with it since a week after it happened, Martin had been mocked online well into Christmas break. However, that wasn’t the worst possible thing to happen over Christmas break. Less than a week before the actual holiday, you logged onto Tumblr and decided to check the school blog, but your heart dropped straight into your stomach as you read the words that first showed up on the screen:

Dear fellow Creekwood students, Simon Spier has a secret male pen pal. Because he's gay. Interested parties may contact him directly to discuss arrangements for butt sex. Ladies need not apply. We should all probably be talking about this instead of Martin Addison's homecoming debacle which was actually kind of sweet, and romantic, if you think about it. Sincerely, Anonymous.

Immediately, you grabbed your phone and texted Simon. You weren’t sure what approach to take, so you decided to act like nothing was wrong.

I just made cookies, want some? :)

You waited for an answer, but two hours later, he still hadn’t replied. You decided to call him, but it went to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Simon. I can’t make it to the phone right now, but you know what to do.”

“Hey, Simon, it’s me. I just wanted to check in. I know it’s barely been a week since school got out but I miss you, buddy. I have cookies, and I, uh, I know you’re having a tough time right now, so please just call me back. I love you, Simon, and I wanna help. Please let me. Okay, uh, merry Christmas. Call me back. Bye.”

You’d placed your call at 8pm, and refused to go to sleep until he answered you- but he didn’t. He didn’t text or call you back all night, and once you realized he probably never would, you took a long nap before getting to work. You got dressed, grabbed the box of cookies off the counter (yes, you’d told him you baked them but you didn’t actually have time for that right now), threw the cookies and all Simon’s favourite things from your house into a messenger bag, and biked your way to the Spier household. Mrs. Spier opened the door when you knocked.

“(Y/N)! Good to see you! How’s your Christmas break?” she cheered.

“It’s good, Mrs. Spier, thanks.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but, um, is Simon home?” You asked, not meaning to be rude but worrying more about your friend than the conversation.

“Oh, yeah, he’s just upstairs. Come on in.” She held the door open for you as you entered, “I think something may have happened though, he’s been in his room since yesterday.”

“Oh.” You said, acting as though you knew nothing, “Is it okay if I go up and check on him?” 

“Oh, yes, of course, sweetheart. Go on up, just make sure to knock before you go in, okay?”

“Of course.”

With that, you ran up the stairs and navigated your way to Simon’s room, using the vague memory of the night after Bram’s to guide you. Suddenly, a room opened up, and Simon’s sister stepped out, stopping when she saw you.

“Hey, (Y/N), right? You’re Simon’s friend?” she asked.

“Yeah. You’re Nora, right?”

“That’s me.” She smiled weakly, “Are you here about the post?”

Your stance fell, and a solemn silence fell briefly between the two of you, “I’m just here to make sure he’s okay. What he went through- what he’s going through- is terrible, but he shouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

She nodded, gesturing to a door a little ways away from you two, “That one’s his. And thank you, for doing this for him.”

You offered her a smile, and headed straight for Simon. You knocked on the door and his voice very weakly answered from the other side.

“I’ll be down in a minute, mom.”

“I’m not your mom, Simon, it’s me.”

Almost immediately, the door flew open, and a very red-eyed Simon stood practically looming over you, a look of shock and confusion etched on his face. You could tell he had been crying, so you pulled the cookies out of your bag.

“I brought you some cookies.”

With that, Simon visibly untensed, taking the box from you slowly and stepping a side to silently invite you in. You were both silent for a while, just sitting on his floor, until he cleared his throat.

“So, I take it you saw the post?”

“Yeah, I did.” you nodded slowly, “I wanted to come make sure you’re okay. I can’t imagine what I’d do if someone outed me.”

Your friend’s head whipped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash, “Wait- Wait, you’re...” there was a pause, as though he was struggling to get the word out, “...you’re gay too?”

“You bet your ass I am, sweetheart.” you chuckled, “Girls? Perfection.”

Simon laughed too, “So you, you can kinda understand what’s going on?”

Your smile fell with those words, “I can’t imagine, Simon. I can’t imagine the pain or the anger or the humiliation that you must be going through.”

Simon frowned at that, staring down at his carpet in defeat, until you put your hand over his, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be here for you, no matter what. Wherever this bullshit takes you, Si, I’m there- right by your side.”

“Thanks (Y/N).” your friend smiled, “You’re a really good friend.”

Over the rest of the Christmas break, you talked with Simon almost constantly. You regaled him with tales of your father’s decorating mishaps and your new years adventures with Suraj. He showed you the gifts he’d received and he told you that he still hadn’t talked to anyone else from school; in his defence, no one was making an effort to reach out either. By the time school came back into session, you and Simon were closer than ever, but with his other friends- not so much. You even saw him get out of the car alone when he arrived, so you ran up to make sure everything was okay.

“They didn’t want a ride this morning.” was all he said, but you tried to comfort him as best you could. 

The rest of the morning was a painful blur. Sneers and whispers were thrown at Simon from all directions, but you were the only person who made direct eye contact with him all day. His so-called friends avoided him like the plague, and lunch made it much, much worse. Everything was fine, just you and Simon eating at a table by yourselves, until sudden music came blaring into the cafeteria. Two assholes- Aaron and Spencer, if you remember correctly- came skipping into the café, one dressed normally and one dressed in a wig and scarf (clearly mocking Ethan, Creekwood’s first out gay kid). They got up on one of the tables and started dancing and making obscene gestures, mocking Simon directly but dragging Ethan into it as well. Rage bubbled up inside you, but Simon got up first.

“You have something you wanna say to me?” he roared, marching up to their table, “I said do you have something to say to me?” 

Ms. Albright came up behind Simon, grabbing the speaker that was blaring music and turning it off.

“Hey, Ms. Albright.” The one dressed as Ethan smiled, but his smile quickly fell as her glare hardened.

“Don't ‘Hey, Ms. Albright’ me. We're not friends. You're not gonna braid my hair or paint my nails. Get your ass off the table now! You sweaty, hormonal virgins. You know what? You're about to be suspended for so long, that by the time it's over, you're gonna be the fat, bald, unhappily married, wildly mediocre nobodies you're destined to become.” 

“You can't talk to us like that!” 

“Actually, I can, 'cause I just did. And you know why? Because you're just those two assholes that did that shitty thing in front of the whole school. And guess what? Nobody feels sorry for those assholes, especially me. Now, walk. Mr. Worth's office now. Bye.” 

The boys got off the table slowly, and started walking out of the cafeteria. One tried to get the speaker back from Ms. Albright, but she pulled it away sharply.

“Uh-uh. That's mine now. I'mma sell it. Get my tubes tied.”

“Um, Ms. Alrbight?” you stood, and walked over to her, “May I?”

You gestured to the two assholes as they turned to look at you. Assuming you just wanted to yell at them, Ms. Albright nodded, gesturing for you to continue. You nodded in thanks, walked up to the boys.... and sucker-punched both of them. The entire student body gasped, and at least two teachers ran up to keep you from doing any more damage, but you threw your hands up in mock surrender. You turned around, gave Simon a hug, and started walking to Mr. Worth’s office, throwing your middle finger in the air as you walked out. When you arrived at Mr. Worth’s office, he was initially excited to see you.

“Hey! (Y/N)! Good to see you! How’ve you been? What can I do for you?”

“Ms. Albright sent me.” you said simply, sitting down in one of the chairs across from his desk.

His face scrunched up in concern, “Oh? How come? Everything okay?” 

“Aaron and Spencer committed a small hate crime against Simon and Ethan so I decked ‘em.”

Mr. Worth’s eyes widened, “B-by ‘decked em’ you mean...?”

“I punched them so hard they fell over.” You explained simply.

Mr. Worth nodded slowly, clearly still in shock from both what you did and how casual you were being about this. He said that although violence was never the answer, he understood why you did what you did, and he assured you that Aaron and Spencer would get the punishment that they deserved. He explained that because you took violent measures, he’d have to suspend you for at least a couple days, and you explained that that was fine- you knew the consequences when you took action, and you were prepared to deal with them. You and Mr. Worth agreed on a week-long suspension, and he sent you to get your things out of your locker and make arrangements to get homework while he called your parents. You told Suraj everything, having run into him on your way to your locker, and he offered to bring you your homework while you were gone- also mentioning that he’d seen Simon and Ethan entering Mr. Worth’s office earlier. Deciding that you should check on Simon, and that his meeting with Mr. Worth was probably over by now, you ran out to the parking lot to find him. However, when you got out there, the first thing you heard was Martin’s whiny bitching.

“-I got in a lot of shit for Homecoming, and I wanted everyone to focus on something else, you know? I just didn't think it was gonna be a big thing.” 

“I don't care if you didn't think that my coming out was gonna be a big thing, Martin!” You heard Simon yell, “Look, you don't get to decide that. I'm supposed to be the one that decides when and where, and how and who knows and how I get to say it. That's supposed to be my thing! And you took that away from me. So, well, can you please just get the fuck away from me?”

You walked out around a car to see Simon storming into his car, and Martin standing there, looking pathetically helpless. With a sigh, he turned around, but stood there gawking when he saw you watching.

“(Y/n), I-”

“It was you.”

“What?” he asked, acting nonchalant but clearly guilty.

“It was you!” you screeched, barrelling towards him, “You’re the pathetic son of a bitch who outed Simon! You did this to him!”

“(Y/n), I can explain-”

“Save it, Addison! I cannot believe you!” You screamed in his face, “You manipulate me and abuse me and treat me like shit! You get called out on it so you just toss me aside like a wet rag! You act sketchy for months, then you humiliate the shit out of poor Abby! And when you were too much of a pussy to deal with the consequences of your own fucking actions, you put Simon’s life at risk because you couldn’t take the fucking heat?”

“Hey, hey, hey! I never abused you!” he held up his hands defensively, “And I didn’t know people still did that stuff-”

“What part of ‘save it, Addison’ did you not understand, mother fucker?” You spat. When he became silent, you continued, “You wanna talk so fucking badly, answer me this, Martin: How the fuck did you get a hold on Simon’s emails?”

He looked down at his feet, “I, uh, used the computer in the library after Simon. His gmail was still up. I read a few of them- ‘cause they were just right there- and I, um, I screenshotted his emails... so he’d help me get with Abby.”

Your eyes widened in rage at that, “You what?”

“I-”

“No, no, asshole. You screenshotted the emails of an innocent kid and threatened to out him in the bible-belt of America, if he didn’t help you get with a girl who’s barely known you for three months- as thought that was a better plan than just fucking talking to her- and then you forcibly outed him anyway when your little plan didn’t work out because, surprise surprise, she didn’t appreciate that you didn’t see her as anything more than a piece of meat for you to parade around!”

As you screamed, Martin got defensive, “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds bad!”

“NO SHIT IT SOUNDS BAD, MOTHER FUCKER, YOU RUINED A KID’S LIFE JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE PATHETIC BUT YOU STILL CAN’T KEEP IT IN YOUR FUCKING PANTS!” you were booming with rage now, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole school could hear you, “As if ruining my life wasn’t enough, you had to rope Simon and Abby into this shit too, you selfish fucking bastard!”

“Ruined your life?” He repeated, as though he didn't hear anything else you said, “We were friends!”

“No, I was your plaything, Martin. Just something to manipulate, and use, and beat up on until something better caught your eye and you could toss me to the curb! Then you’d just pick me back up and do it all over again once you lost interest. I was never your friend! I never mattered to you! I didn’t mean shit to you!”

Martin blubbered trying to find a justifiable way to defend himself, “Why does it matter how I treated you? I bet you never liked me anyway!”

“For fuck’s sake, you were like family. I loved you, Martin!”

“You, you loved me?”

“Yeah, I did.” You spat, opening your car door, “Worst mistake of my fucking life.”

You climbed into the car, slammed the door, and sped off- almost running him over in the process. Not that you cared; the world could do better with less people like Martin Addison.

[makistar2018]

All 125 Taylor Swift Songs, Ranked From Worst to Best

By NATE JONES April 30, 2019

In this business, there are two subjects that will boost your page views like nothing else: Game of Thrones and Taylor Swift. One of them is a massive, multi-million-dollar enterprise filled with violence and betrayal, and the other airs on HBO. I find it hard to explain why exactly, and I’m sure Swift would, too: Somehow, this one 27-year-old woman from Wyomissing, Pennsylvania, keeps finding herself at the center of our national conversations about race, gender, celebrity, victimhood, even the economics of the tech industry. And, outside the legions of fans who eat up everything she puts out, no take on her ever stays solid for long. She was a precocious teenager, and the ultimate embodiment of white privilege. She’s been feminism’s worst nightmare, and an advocate for victims of sexual assault. Some people say she’s a goddess of the alt-right. Other people say she’s Jewish.

And yet, unlike Madonna or Bowie, Swift got through the first 11 years of her career without any major reinventions. (For 1989, she embraced feminism and threw away the last vestiges of her Nashville sound, but those were basically just aesthetic changes.) If the word on her has shifted since her debut, it’s because we’ve changed, not her. Swift — or at least the version of Swift on her albums — has remained largely the same person since her debut: a thin-skinned, bighearted obsessive, with a penchant for huge romantic moments. People don’t slowly ease into a relationship in her songs; they show up at each other’s doors late at night and they kiss in the rain. An unworthy suitor won’t just say something thoughtless; he’ll skip a birthday party or leave a teenage girl crying alone in a hotel room. Listen to her songs and you’ll ache at the resemblance to the most dramatic moments in your own private history. Listen to too many and you might ache again at the nagging feeling that those stories of yours have all been a bit uneventful and drab by comparison. What sort of real life can stand up against fantasies like these?

So, uh, I don’t recommend you listen to this list top to bottom.

But I do recommend sampling as many of these songs as you see fit. Even with the widespread critical embrace of poptimism — a development I suspect has as much to do with the economics of online media as it does with the shifting winds of taste — there are still those who see Swift as just another industry widget, a Miley or Katy with the tuner set to “girl with a guitar.” If this list does anything, I hope it convinces you that, underneath all the thinkpieces, exes, and feuds, she is one of our era’s great singer-songwriters. She may not have the raw vocal power of some of her competitors, but what she lacks in Mariah-level range she makes up for in versatility and personality. (A carpetbagger from the Pennsylvania suburbs, she became an expert code-switcher early in her career and never looked back.) And when it comes to writing instantly memorable pop songs, her only peers are a few anonymous Swedish guys, none of whom perform their own stuff. I count at least ten stone-cold classics in her discography. Others might see more. No matter how high your defenses, I guarantee you’ll find at least one that breaks them down. 

Some ground rules: We’re ranking every Taylor Swift song that’s ever been released with her name on it — which means we must sadly leave out the unreleased 9/11 song “Didn’t They” as well as Nils Sjöberg’s “This Is What You Came For” — excluding tracks where Swift is merely “featured” (no one’s reading this list for B.o.B.’s “Both of Us”) but including a few duets where she gets an “and” credit. Songwriting is an important part of Swift’s spellbook, so covers are treated more harshly than originals. Because Swift’s career began so young, we’re left in the awkward position of judging work done by a literal high-schooler, which can feel at times like punching down. I’ll try to make slight allowances for age, reserving the harshest criticism for the songs written when Swift was an adult millionaire.

125. “Look What You Made Me Do,” Reputation (2017): “There’s a mistake that I see artists make when they’re on their fourth or fifth record, and they think innovation is more important than solid songwriting,” Swift told New York back in 2013. “The most terrible letdown as a listener for me is when I’m listening to a song and I see what they were trying to do.” To Swift’s credit, it took her six records to get to this point. On a conceptual level, the mission here is clear: After the Kim-Kanye feud made her the thinking person’s least-favorite pop star, this comeback single would be her grand heel turn. But the villain costume sits uneasily on Swift’s shoulders, and even worse, the songwriting just isn’t there. The verses are vacuous, the insults have no teeth, and just when the whole thing seems to be leading up to a gigantic redemptive chorus, suddenly pop! The air goes out of it and we’re left with a taunting Right Said Fred reference — the musical equivalent of pulling a Looney Tunes gag on the listener. Other Swift songs have clunkier rhymes, or worse production values, but none of them have such a gaping hole at the center. (I do dig the gleeful “Cuz she’s dead!” though.)

124. “Umbrella,” iTunes Live From Soho (2008): Swift has recorded plenty of covers in her career, and none are less essential than this 90-second rendition of the Rihanna hit recorded at the peak of the song’s popularity. It’s pure college-campus coffeehouse.

123. “Christmas Must Mean Something More,” The Taylor Swift Holiday Collection (2007): One of two originals on Swift’s early-career Christmas album, “Something More” is a plea to put the Christ back in Christmas. Or as she puts it: “What if happiness came in a cardboard box? / Then I think there is something we all forgot.” In the future, Swift would get better at holding onto some empathy when she was casting a critical eye at the silly things people care about; here, the vibe is judgmental in a way that will be familiar to anyone who’s ever reread their teenage diary.

122. “Better Than Revenge,” Speak Now (2010): A nasty little song that has not aged well. Whether a straightforward imitation of Avril Lavigne’s style or an early attempt at “Blank Space”–style self-satirization, the barbs never go beyond bratty. (As in “Look What You Made Me Do,” the revenge turns out to be the song itself, which feels hollow.) Best known now for the line about “the things she does on the mattress,” which I suspect has been cited in blog posts more times than the song itself has been listened to lately.

121. “American Girl,” Non-album digital single (2009): Why would you cover this song and make it slower?

120. “I Want You Back,” Speak Now World Tour – Live (2011): Another 90-second cover of a pop song that does not particularly benefit from a stripped-down arrangement.

119. “Santa Baby,” The Taylor Swift Holiday Collection (2007): Before Ariana Grande’s “Santa Tell Me,” there was only one holiday song about falling in love with Santa, and for some reason, we spent decades making all our young female singers cover it. Swift’s version leans out of the awkwardness by leaning into the materialism; she puts most of her vocal emphasis on the nice presents she hopes Santa will bring her. (The relationship seems to be fairly quid pro quo: She’ll believe in him if he gives her good gifts — even at this early stage, Swift possessed a savvy business sense.) Otherwise, this is a by-the-numbers holiday cover, complete with sleigh bells in the mix.

118. “Sweet Escape,” Speak Now World Tour – Live; Target edition DVD (2011): Swift’s sedate cover of the 2006 Gwen Stefani hit — those “ooh-ooh”s are pitched way down from Akon’s falsetto in the original — invests the song with a bittersweet vibe, though like anyone who’s ever tried the song at karaoke, she stumbles on the rapid-fire triplets in the first verse.

117. “Silent Night,” The Taylor Swift Holiday Collection (2007): Swift’s cover of the Christmas classic veers significantly away from Franz Xaver Gruber’s original melody, and even gives it a Big Taylor Swift Finale. Points for ambition, but sometimes you just want to hear the old standards the way you remember them.

116. “The Last Time,” Red (2012): Red is Swift’s strongest album, but it suffers a bit from pacing issues: The back half is full of interminable ballads that you’ve got to slog through to get to the end. Worst of all is this duet with po-faced Ulsterman Gary Lightbody, which feels about ten minutes long.

115. “Invisible,” Taylor Swift: Special Edition (2006): A bonus track from the debut that plays like a proto–”You Belong With Me.” The “show you” / “know you” rhymes mark this as an early effort.

114. “…Ready for It?,” Reputation (2017): The second straight misfire off the Reputation rollout, this one sees Swift try her hand at rapping, with some ill-advised bars about Elizabeth Taylor and a flow she borrowed from Jay-Z. (Try to rap “Younger than my exes” without spilling into “rest in peace, Bob Marley.”) Bumped up a spot or two for the chorus, a big Swift hook that sounds just like her best work — in this case, because it bites heavily from “Wildest Dreams.”

113. “I Heart ?,” Beautiful Eyes EP (2008): Swift code-switches like a champ on this charmingly shallow country song, which comes from the Walmart-exclusive EP she released between her first two albums. Her vocals get pretty rough in the chorus, but at least we’re left with the delightful line, “Wake up and smell the breakup.”

112. “Bad Blood,” 1989 (2014): When Swift teamed up with Max Martin and Shellback, the marriage of their dark eldritch songcraft nearly broke the pop charts. But when they misfire, the results can be brutal. The lyric here indulges the worst habits of late-period Swift — an eagerness to play the victim, a slight lack of resemblance to anything approaching real life — attached to a schoolyard-chant melody that will never leave your head, even when you may want it to. The remix hollows out the production and replaces Swift’s verses with two from Kendrick Lamar; it’s less embarrassing than the original, which does not make it more memorable.

111. “White Christmas,” The Taylor Swift Holiday Collection (2007):The most bluegrass of Swift’s Christmas tunes, this gentle rendition sees Swift’s vocals cede center stage to the mandolin and fiddle.

110. “Crazier,” Hannah Montana: The Movie soundtrack (2009): When approached by the filmmakers about contributing a song to the Hannah Montana movie, Swift sent in this track, seemingly a holdover from the Fearless sessions. In an admirable bit of dedication, she also showed up to play it in the film’s climax. It’s kind of a snooze on its own, but compared to the other songs on the soundtrack, even Swift’s leftovers shine.

109. “I’d Lie,” Taylor Swift (2006): A bonus track only available to people who bought Swift’s debut at Best Buy. It’s as cute as a study-hall MASH game, and just as easily disposable.

108. “Highway Don’t Care,” Tim McGraw’s Two Lanes of Freedom(2013): After joining Big Machine, McGraw gave Swift an “and” credit here as a professional courtesy. Though her backing vocals are very pleasant, this is 100 percent a Tim McGraw song.

107. “Superman,” Speak Now: Deluxe Edition (2010): A bonus track that’s not gonna make anyone forget Five for Fighting any time soon.

106. “Change,” Fearless (2008): A bit of paint-by-numbers inspiration that apparently did its job of spurring the 2008 U.S. Olympic team to greatness. They won 36 gold medals!

105. “End Game,” Reputation (2017): Swift tries out her blaccent alongside Future and Ed Sheeran, on a track that sounds unmistakably like a Rihanna reject. The only silver lining? She’s better at rapping here than on “…Ready for It?”

104. “The Lucky One,” Red (2012): A plight-of-fame ballad from the back half of Red, with details that never rise above cliché and a melody that borrows from the one Swift cooked up for “Untouchable.”

103. “A Place in This World,” Taylor Swift (2006): Swift’s version of “Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman,” this one feels like it missed its chance to be the theme tune for an ABC Family show.

102. “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever,” Fifty Shades Darker soundtrack (2017): In Fifty Shades Darker, this wan duet soundtracks a scene where Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele go for a sunny boat ride while wearing fabulous sweaters. On brand!

101. “Last Christmas,” The Taylor Swift Holiday Collection (2007): Swift does George Michael proud with this reverent cover of the Wham! classic.

100. “Breathless,” Hope for Haiti Now (2010): Swift covered this Better Than Ezra deep cut for the Hope for Haiti telethon. With only one take to get it right, she did not let the people of Haiti down.

99. “Bette Davis Eyes,” Speak Now World Tour – Live (2012): “There’s some unbelievable music that has come out of artists who are from L.A., did you know that?” Swift asks the audience at the beginning of this live track. The crowd, not being idiots, responds with an enthusiastic yes. This cover loses the two most famous parts of Kim Carnes’s original — the synths and Carnes’s throaty delivery — but the acoustic arrangement and Swift’s intimate vocals bring out the best qualities of the tune.

98. “Eyes Open,” The Hunger Games: Songs From District 12 and Beyond (2012): One of two songs Swift contributed to the first Hunger Games soundtrack. With guitars seemingly ripped straight out of 1998 alt-rock radio, this one’s most interesting now as a preview of Swift’s Red sound.

97. “Beautiful Eyes,” Beautiful Eyes EP (2008): The title track of Swift’s early-career EP finds the young songwriter getting a lot of mileage out of one single vowel sound: Besides the eyes of the title, we’ve got I, why, fly, cry, lullaby, even sometimes. A spirited vocal performance in the outro saves the song from feeling like homework.

96. “The Outside,” Taylor Swift (2006): If you thought you felt weird judging songs by a high-schooler, here’s one by an actual sixth-grader. “The Outside” was the second song Swift ever wrote, and though the lyrics edge into self-pity at times, this is still probably the best song written by a 12-year-old since Mozart’s “Symphony No. 7 in D Major.”

95. “SuperStar,” Fearless: Platinum Edition (2008): This bonus track is a relic of an unfamiliar time when Swift could conceivably be the less-famous person in a relationship.

94. “Starlight,” Red (2012): Never forget that one of the most critically acclaimed albums of 2012 contains a piece of Ethel Kennedy fanfiction. The real story of Bobby and Ethel has more rough spots than you’ll find in this resolutely rose-colored track, but that’s what happens when you spend a summer hanging in Hyannis Port.

93. “Sad Beautiful Tragic,” Red (2012): Another glacially paced song from the back half of Red that somehow pulls off rhyming “magic” with “tragic.”

92. “Innocent,” Speak Now (2010): The disparate reactions to Kanye West stage-crashing Swift at the 2009 VMAs speaks to the Rorschachian nature of Swift’s star image. Was Swift a teenage girl whose moment was ruined by an older man who couldn’t control himself? Or was she a white woman playing the victim to demonize an outspoken black man? Both are correct, which is why everyone’s spent so much time arguing about it. Unfortunately, Swift did herself no favors when she premiered “Innocent” at the next year’s VMAs, opening with footage of the incident, which couldn’t help but feel like she was milking it. (Fairly or not, the comparison to West’s own artistic response hardly earns any points in the song’s favor.) Stripped of all this context, “Innocent” is fine: Swift turns in a tender vocal performance, though the lyrics could stand to be less patronizing.

91. “Girl at Home,” Red: Deluxe Edition (2012): This Red bonus track offers a foreshadowing of Swift’s interest in sparkly ’80s-style production. A singsongy melody accompanies a largely forgettable lyric, except for one hilariously blunt line: “It would be a fine proposition … if I was a stupid girl.”

90. “A Perfectly Good Heart,” Taylor Swift: Special Edition (2006): A pleading breakup song with one killer turn of phrase and not much else.

89. “Mary’s Song (Oh My Oh My),” Taylor Swift (2006): This early track was inspired by Swift’s elderly neighbors. Like “Starlight,” it’s a young person’s vision of lifelong love, skipping straight from proposal to old age.

88. “Come in With the Rain,” Fearless: Platinum Edition (2008): An ode to a long-lost lover that follows the Swift template a tad too slavishly.

87. “Dancing With Our Hands Tied,” Reputation (2017): Reputation sags a bit in the middle, never more than on this forgettable ’80s-inspired track.

86. “Welcome to New York,” 1989 (2014): In retrospect, there could not have been a song more perfectly designed to tick off the authenticity police — didn’t Swift know that real New Yorkers stayed up till 3 a.m. doing drugs with Fabrizio Moretti in the bathroom of Mars Bar? I hope you’re sitting down when I tell you this, but it’s possible the initial response to a Taylor Swift song might have been a little reactionary. When it’s not taken as a mission statement, “Welcome to New York” is totally tolerable, a glimmering confetti throwaway with lovely synths.

85. “Tied Together With a Smile,” Taylor Swift (2006): When she was just a teenager with a development deal, Swift hooked up with veteran Nashville songwriter Liz Rose. The two would collaborate on much of Swift’s first two albums. “We wrote and figured out that it really worked. She figured out she could write Taylor Swift songs, and I wouldn’t get in the way,” Rose said later. “She’d say a line and I’d say, ‘What if we say it like this?’ It’s kind of like editing.” This early ballad about a friend with bulimia sees Swift and Rose experimenting with metaphor. Most of them work.

84. “King of My Heart,” Reputation (2017): Swift is fond of saying that “songs are what you think of on the drive home — you know, the Great Afterthought.” (She says it’s a Joni Mitchell quote, but I haven’t been able to find it.) Anyway, I think that’s why some of the love songs on Reputationdon’t quite land: Swift is writing about a relationship from inside of it, instead of with hindsight. It’s a different skill, which could explain why the boyfriend character here is less vividly sketched than some of her other ones.

83. “Come Back … Be Here,” Red: Deluxe Edition (2012): A vulnerable track about long-distance love, with simple sentiments overwhelmed by extravagant production.

82. “Breathe,” Fearless (2008): A Colbie Caillat collaboration that’s remarkable mostly for being a rare Swift song about a friend breakup. It’s like if “Bad Blood” contained actual human emotions.

81. “Stay Beautiful,” Taylor Swift (2006): Nathan Chapman was a Nashville session guitarist before he started working with Swift. He produced her early demos, and she fought for him to sit behind the controls on her debut; the two would work together on every Swift album until 1989, when his role was largely taken over by Max Martin and Shellback. Here, he brings a sprightly arrangement to Swift’s ode to an achingly good-looking man.

80. “Nashville,” Speak Now World Tour – Live; Target edition DVD (2011): Swift gives some shine to singer-songwriter David Mead with a cover of his 2004 ballad. (Listen to the screams during the chorus and try to guess where this one was recorded.) She treats it with a delicate respect, like she’s handling her grandmother’s china.

79. “So It Goes,” Reputation (2017): Unfortunately not a Nick Lowe cover, this one comes and goes without making much of an impact, but if you don’t love that whispered “1-2-3,” I don’t know what to tell you.

78. “You’re Not Sorry,” Fearless (2008): An unflinching kiss-off song that got a gothic remix for Swift’s appearance as an ill-fated teen on CSI. It shouldn’t work, but it does.

77. “Drops of Jupiter,” Speak Now World Tour – Live (2012): The best of the covers on the live album sees Swift commit to the Train hit like she’d written it herself. If you had forgotten that this song came out in 2001, she keeps the line about Tae Bo.

76. “The Other Side of the Door,” Fearless: Platinum Edition (2008): A bonus track saved from mediocrity by a gutsy outro that hints that Swift, like any good millennial, was a big fan of “Semi-Charmed Life.”

75. “Gorgeous,” Reputation (2017): In the misbegotten rollout for Reputation, “Gorgeous” righted the ship by not being completely terrible. Max Martin and Shellback pack the track with all sorts of amusing audio doodads, but the melody is a little too horizontal to stick, and the lyrics have a touch of first draft about them. (You’d be forgiven for preferring the actual first draft, which is slightly more open and real.)

74. “I Wish You Would,” 1989 (2014): Like “You Are in Love,” this one originated as a Jack Antonoff instrumental track, and the finished version retains his fingerprints. Perhaps too much — you get the sense it might work better as a Bleachers song.

73. “Cold As You,” Taylor Swift (2006): A dead-serious breakup song that proved the teenage Swift (with help from Rose, who’s got a co-writing credit) could produce barbs sharper than most adults: “You come away with a great little story / Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you.” Jesus.

72. “Haunted,” Speak Now (2010): In which Swift tries her hand at Evanescence-style goth-rock. She almost pulls it off, but at this point in Swift’s career her voice wasn’t quite strong enough to give the unrestrained performance the song calls for.

71. “This Love,” 1989 (2014): Began life as a poem before evolving into an atmospheric 1989 deep cut. Like an imperfectly poached egg, it’s shapeless but still quite appetizing.

70. “Untouchable,” Fearless: Platinum Edition (2008): Technically a Luna Halo cover (don’t worry about it), though Swift discards everything but the bones of the original. Her subsequent renovation job is worthy of HGTV: It’s nearly impossible to believe this was ever not a Taylor Swift song.

69. “Wonderland,” 1989: Deluxe Edition (2014): A deranged bonus track that sees Swift doing the absolute most. This song has everything: Alice in Wonderland metaphors, Rihanna chants, a zigzag bridge that recalls “I Knew You Were Trouble,” screams. As she puts it, “It’s all fun and games ’til somebody loses their MIND!”

68. “Sweeter Than Fiction,” One Chance soundtrack (2013): Swift’s first collaboration with Jack Antonoff is appropriately ’80s-inspired, and so sugary that a well-placed key change in the chorus is the only thing that staves off a toothache.

67. “I’m Only Me When I’m With You,” Taylor Swift: Special Edition(2006): A rollicking pop-rock tune that recalls early Kelly Clarkson. As if to reassure nervous country fans, the fiddle goes absolutely nuts.

66. “Tell Me Why,” Fearless (2008): A bog-standard tale of an annoyingly clueless guy, but it’s paired with one of Swift and Rose’s most winning melodies.

65. “If This Was a Movie,” Speak Now: Deluxe Edition (2010): The mirror image of “White Horse,” which makes it feel oddly superfluous.

64. “How You Get the Girl,” 1989 (2014): The breeziest and least complicated of Swift’s guy-standing-on-a-doorstep songs, which contributed to the feeling that 1989 was something of an emotional regression. You probably shouldn’t take it as an instruction manual unless you’re Harry Styles.

63. “Don’t Blame Me,” Reputation (2017): A woozy if slightly anonymous love song that comes off as a sexier “Take Me to Church.” [A dozen Hozier fans storm out of the room.]

62. “The Way I Loved You,” Fearless (2008): Written in collaboration with Big and Rich’s John Rich, which may explain how stately and mid-tempo this one is. (There’s even a martial drumbeat.) Here, she’s faced with a choice between a too-perfect guy — he’s close to her mother and talks business with her father — and a tempestuous relationship full of “screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain,” and if you don’t know which one she prefers I suggest you listen to more Taylor Swift songs. Swift often plays guessing games about which parts of her songs are autobiographical, but this one is explicitly a fantasy.

61. “New Romantics,” 1989: Deluxe Edition (2014): Like “22,” an attempt at writing a big generational anthem. That it was left off the album proper suggests Swift didn’t think it quite got there, though it did its job of extending the singles cycle of 1989 a few more months. Despite what anyone says about “Welcome to New York,” the line here about waiting for “trains that just aren’t coming” indicates its writer has had at least one authentic New York experience.

60. “Sparks Fly,” Speak Now (2010): This one dates back to Swift’s high-school days, and was destined for obscurity until fans fell in love with the live version. After what seems like a lot of tinkering, it finally got a proper studio release on Swift’s third album. It’s like “True Love Waits,” but with more kissing in the rain.

59. “Me!,” Untitled Seventh Album (2019): Well, what did we expect? The run-up to “Me!” was preceded by a weeks-long guessing game about what precisely would be the nature of Swift’s April 26 announcement. Would she come out? Would she come out and reveal she had once dated Karlie Kloss? Cut to the fateful day, and the news was … Swift, who is a pop singer, was releasing a new pop song. After the Sturm und Drang of the Reputation era, “Me!” is a return to anodyne sweetness, a mission statement that says, “I’m through making mission statements.” The result is blandly inoffensive, emphasis on the bland.

58. “All You Had to Do Was Stay,” 1989 (2014): Just like the melody to “Yesterday” and the “Satisfaction” riff, the high-pitched “Stay!” here came to its writer in a dream. Inspiration works in mysterious ways.

57. “Delicate, Reputation (2017): With multitracked, breathy vocals, this is Swift at her most tentative. Would any other album’s Taylor be asking, “Is it cool that I said all that?”

56. “Stay Stay Stay,” Red (2012): Swift broke out her southern accent one last time for this attempt at homespun folk, which is marred by production that’s so clean it’s practically antiseptic. In an alternate universe where a less-ambitious Swift took a 9-to-5 job writing ad jingles, this one soundtracked a TV spot for the new AT&T family plan.

55. “Call It What You Want,” Reputation (2017): Many of the Reputationsingles aim at sexy; this airy slow jam about losing yourself in love after a scandal is the only one that gets there, though the saltiness in the verses (“all the liars are calling me one”) occasionally betrays the sentiment.

54. “Ours,” Speak Now: Deluxe Edition (2010): It’s not this song’s fault that the extended version of Speak Now has songs called both “Mine” and “Ours,” and while “Ours” is good … well, it’s no “Mine.” Still, even if this song never rises above cuteness, it is incredibly cute. I think Dad’ll get over the tattoos.

53. “The Best Day,” Fearless (2008): Swift’s parents moved the family to Tennessee so she could follow her musical dreams, and she paid them back with this tender tribute. Mom gets the verses while Dad is relegated to the middle eight — even in song, the Mother’s Day–Father’s Day disparity holds up.

52. “Everything Has Changed,” Red (2012): “We good to go?” For many American listeners, this was the first introduction to a redheaded crooner named Ed Sheeran. It’s a sweet duet and Sheeran’s got a roughness that goes well with Swift’s cleaner vocals, but the harmonies are a bit bland.

51. “Today Was a Fairytale,” Valentine’s Day soundtrack (2010): How much of a roll was Swift on during the Fearless era? This song didn’t make the album, and sat in the vault for a year until Swift signed on for a small role in a Garry Marshall rom-com and offered it up for the soundtrack. Despite the extravagant title, the date described here is charmingly low-key: The dude wears a T-shirt, and his grand gestures are showing up on time and being nice.

50. “Last Kiss,” Speak Now (2010): A good-bye waltz with an understated arrangement that suits the starkness of the lyrics.

49. “You Are in Love,” 1989: Deluxe Edition (2014): The best of Swift’s songs idealizing someone else’s love story (see “Starlight” and “Mary’s Song”), this bonus track sketches Jack Antonoff and Lena Dunham’s relationship in flashes of moments. The production and vocals are appropriately restrained — sometimes, simplicity works.

48. “The Story of Us,” Speak Now (2010): The deluxe edition of Speak Now features both U.S. and international versions of some of the singles, which gives you a sense of how fine-tuned Swift’s operation was by this point. My ears can’t quite hear the difference between the two versions of this exuberant breakup jam, but I suspect the U.S. mix contains some sort of ultrasonic frequencies designed to … sorry, I’ve already said too much.

47. “Clean,” 1989 (2014): Co-written with Imogen Heap, who contributes backup vocals. This is 1989’s big end-of-album-catharsis song, and the water imagery of the lyrics goes well with the drip-drip-drip production. I’d be curious to hear a version where Heap sings lead; the minimalist sound might be better suited for her voice, which has a little more texture.

46. “Getaway Car,” Reputation (2017): Another very Antonoff-y track, but I’m not mad at it. We start with a vocoder she must have stolen from Imogen Heap and end with one of Swift’s most rocking outros, and in between we even get a rare key change.

45. “I Almost Do,” Red (2012): The kind of plaintive breakup song Swift could write in her sleep at this point in her career, with standout guitar work and impressive vulnerability in both lyrics and performance.

44. “Long Live (We Will Be Remembered),” Speak Now (2010):Ostensibly written about Swift’s experiences touring with her band, but universal enough that it’s been taken as a graduation song by pretty much everyone else. Turns out, adolescent self-mythologizing is the same no matter where you are — no surprise that Swift could pull it off despite leaving school after sophomore year.

43. “The Moment I Knew,” Red: Deluxe Edition (2012): An epic account of being stood up that makes a terrible birthday party seem like something approximating the Fall of Troy. If you’re the type of person who stays up at night remembering every inconsiderate thing you’ve ever done, the level of excruciating detail here is like a needle to the heart.

42. “Jump Then Fall,” Fearless: Platinum Edition (2006): An effervescent banjo-driven love song. I get a silly kick out of the gag in the chorus, when Swift’s voice leaps to the top of her register every time she says “jump.”

41. “Never Grow Up,” Speak Now (2010): Swift’s songs where she’s romanticizing childhood come off better than the ones where she’s romanticizing old age. (Possibly because she’s been a child before.) This one is so well-observed and wistful about the idea of children aging that you’d swear she was secretly a 39-year-old mom.

40. “Should’ve Said No,” Taylor Swift (2006): Written in a rush of emotion near the end of recording for the debut, what this early single lacks in nuance it makes up for in backbone. I appreciate the way the end of each verse holds out hope for the cheating ex — “given ooonnne chaaance, it was a moment of weeaaknesssss” — before the chorus slams the door in the dumb lunk’s face.

39. “Back to December,” Speak Now (2010): At the time, this one was billed as a big step for Swift: the first song where she’s the bad guy! Now that the novelty has worn off “Back to December” doesn’t feel so groundbreaking, but it does show her evolving sensitivity. The key to a good apology has always been sincerity, and whatever faults Swift may have, a lack of sincerity has never been one of them.

38. “Holy Ground,” Red (2012): This chugging rocker nails the feeling of reconnecting with an ex and romanticizing the times you shared, and it livens up the back half of Red a bit. Probably ranked too high, but this is my list and I’ll do what I want.

37. “Enchanted,” Speak Now (2010): Originally the title track for Swift’s third album until her label told her, more or less, to cut it with the fairy-tale stuff. It’s a glittery ode to a meet-cute that probably didn’t need to be six minutes long, but at least the extended length gives us extra time to soak up the heavenly coda, with its multi-tracked “Please don’t be in love in with someone else.”

36. “I Know Places,” 1989 (2014): No attempts of universality here — this trip-hop song about trying to find a place to make out when you’re a massive celebrity is only relatable to a couple dozen people. No matter. As a slice of gothic pop-star paranoia, it gives a much-needed bit of edge to 1989. Bumped up a couple of spots for the line about vultures, which I can only assume is a shout-out.

35. “Treacherous,” Red (2012): Swift has rarely been so tactile as on this intimate ballad, seemingly constructed entirely out of sighs.

34. “Dress,” Reputation (2017): An appropriately slinky track that gives us an unexpected payoff for years of lyrics about party dresses: “I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” she says in the chorus. The way the whole song starts and stops is an obvious trick, but I like it.

33. “Speak Now,” Speak Now (2010): The rest of the band plays it so straight that it might take a second listen to realize that this song is, frankly, bonkers. First, Swift sneaks into a wedding to find a bridezilla, “wearing a gown shaped like a pastry,” snarling at the bridesmaids. Then it turns out she’s been uninvited — oops — so she decides to hide in the curtains. Finally, at a pivotal moment she stands up in front of everyone and protests the impending union. Luckily the guy is cool with it, so we get a happy ending! All this nonsense undercuts the admittedly charming chorus, but it’s hard not to smile at the unabashed silliness.

32. “22,” Red (2012): Another collaboration with Martin and Shellback, another absurdly catchy single. Still, there’s enough personality in the machine for this to still feel like a Taylor song, for better (“breakfast at midnight” being the epitome of adult freedom) and for worse (the obsession with “cool kids”). Mostly for better.

31. “Christmases When You Were Mine,” The Taylor Swift Holiday Collection (2007): The clear standout of Swift’s Christmas album, with an endearingly winsome riff and lyrics that paint a poignant picture of yuletide heartbreak. If you’ve ever been alone on Christmas, this is your song.

30. “White Horse,” Fearless (2008): You’d never call Swift a genre deconstructionist, but her best work digs deeper into romantic tropes than she gets credit for. In just her second album, she and Rose gave us this clear-eyed look at the emptiness of symbolic gestures, allegedly finished in a mere 45 minutes. Almost left off the album, but saved thanks to Shonda Rhimes.

29. “I Knew You Were Trouble,” Red (2012): The guiding principle on much of Red seems to have been to throw absolutely every idea a person could think of into a song and see what worked. Here, we go from Kelly Clarkson verses to a roller-coaster chorus to a dubstep breakdown that dates the song as surely as radiocarbon — then back again. It shouldn’t hang together, but the gutsy vocals and vivid lyrics keep the track from going off the rails.

28. “Teardrops on My Guitar,” Taylor Swift (2006): An evocative portrait of high-school heartbreak, equal parts mundane — no adult songwriter would have named the crush “Drew” — and melodramatic. It’s also the best example of Swift and Rose’s early songwriting cheat code, when they switch the words of the chorus around at the end of the song. “It just makes the listener feel like the writer and the artist care about the song,” Rose told Billboard. “That they’re like, “Okay, you’ve heard it, but wait a minute — ’cause I want you know that this really affected me, I’m gonna dig the knife in just a little bit deeper.’” (In a fitting twist, “Teardrops” ended up inspiring a moment that could have come straight out of a Taylor Swift song, when the real Drew showed up outside her house one night. “I hadn’t talked to him in two-and-a-half years,” she told the Washington Post. “He was like: ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ And I’m like: ‘Wow, you’re late? Good to see you?’”)

27. “Begin Again,” Red (2012): Swift’s sequencing genius strikes again: After the emotional roller coaster of Red, this gentle ballad plays like a cleansing shower. (It works so well she’d repeat the trick on 1989, slightly more obviously.) Of all Swift’s date songs, this one feels the most true to life; anyone who’s ever been on a good first date can recall the precise moment their nervousness melted into relief.

26. “New Year’s Day,” Reputation (2017): Like a prestige cable drama, Swift likes to use her final track as a kind of quiet summing-up of all that’s come before. Here, she saves the album’s most convincing love song for last: “I want your midnights / but I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year’s Day” is a great way to describe a healthy relationship. The lovely back-and-forth vocals in the outro help break the tie with “Begin Again.”

25. “Shake It Off,” 1989 (2014): Swift’s second No. 1 was greeted with widespread critical sighs: After the heights of Red, why was she serving up cotton-candy fluff about dancing your way past the haters? (Never mind that Red had its own sugary singles.) Now that we’ve all gotten some distance, the purpose of “Shake It Off” is clear: This is a wedding song, empty-headed fun designed to get both Grandma and Lil Jayden on the dance floor. Docked ten or so spots for the spoken-word bridge and cheerleader breakdown, which might be the worst 24 seconds of the entire album.

24. “Safe and Sound,” The Hunger Games: Songs From District 12 and Beyond (2012): Swift’s collaboration with folk duo the Civil Wars is her best soundtrack cut by a country mile. Freed from the constraints of her usual mode, her vocals paint in corners you didn’t think she could reach, especially when she tries out a high-pitched vibrato that blends beautifully with Joy Williams and John Paul White’s hushed harmonies. Swift has worked in a variety of emotional palettes in her career, but this is the only time she’s ever been spooky.

23. “Picture to Burn,” Taylor Swift (2006): Swift’s breakup songs rarely get more acidic than they do in this country hit. By the time she’s twanging a line about dating all her ex’s friends, things have gotten downright rowdy. The original lyrics — “Go and tell your friends that I’m obsessive and crazy / That’s fine, I’ll tell mine you’re gay” — show how far standards for acceptable speech in nice young people have shifted in the past decade.

22. “Fearless,” Fearless (2008): The title track from Swift’s second album has more of her favorite images — in one memorable twofer, she’s dancing in the rain while wearing her best dress — but she invests them with so much emotion that you’d swear she was using them for the first time. The exuberance of the lyrics is matched in the way she tumbles from line to line into the chorus.

21. “Tim McGraw,” Taylor Swift (2006): If you by chance ever happen to meet Taylor Swift, there is one thing you should know: Do not, under any circumstances, call her “calculating.” “Am I shooting from the hip?” she once asked GQ when confronted with the word. “Would any of this have happened if I was? … You can be accidentally successful for three or four years. Accidents happen. But careers take hard work.” However, since the title of her first single apparently came from label head Scott Borchetta — “I told Taylor, ‘They won’t immediately remember your name, they’ll say who’s this young girl with this song about Tim McGraw?’” — I think we’re allowed to break out the c-word: Calling it “Tim McGraw” was the first genius calculation in a career that would turn out to be full of them. Still, there would have been no getting anywhere with it if the song weren’t good. Even as a teenager, Swift was savvy enough to know that country fans love nothing more than listening to songs about listening to country music. And the very first line marks her as more of a skeptic than you might expect: “He said the way my blue eyes shined put those Georgia pines to shame that night / I said, ‘That’s a lie.’”

20. “Dear John,” Speak Now (2010): “I’ve never named names,” Swift once told GQ. “The fact that I’ve never confirmed who those songs are about makes me feel like there is still one card I’m holding.” That may technically be true, but she came pretty dang close with this seven-minute epic. (John Mayer said he felt “humiliated” by the song, after which Swift told Glamour it was “presumptuous” of him to think that the song his ex wrote, that used his first name, was about him.) She sings the hell out of it, but when it comes to songs where Swift systematically outlines all the ways in which an older male celebrity is an inadequate partner, I think I prefer “All Too Well,” which is less wallow-y. I’ve seen it speculated that the guitar noodling on this track is meant as a parody of Mayer’s own late-’00s output, which if true would be deliciously petty.

19. “Red,” Red (2012): Re-eh-eh-ed, re-eh-eh-ed. Red’s title track sees the album’s maximalist style in full effect — who in their right mind would put Auto-Tune and banjos on the same track? But somehow, the overstuffing works here; it’s the audio equivalent of the lyrics’ synesthesia.

18. “I Did Something Bad,” Reputation (2017): It’s too bad Rihanna already has an album called Unapologetic, because that would have been a perfect title for Reputation, or maybe just this jubilant “Blank Space” sequel. Why the hell she didn’t release this one instead of “Look What You Made Me Do,” I’ll never know — not only does “Something Bad” sell the lack of remorse much better, it bangs harder than any other song on pop radio this summer except “Bodak Yellow.” Is that a raga chant? Are those fucking gunshots? Docked a spot or two for “They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one,” which doth protest too much, but bumped up just as much for Swift’s first on-the-record “shit.”

17. “Forever & Always,” Fearless (2008): This blistering breakup song was the one that solidified Swift’s image as the pop star you dump at your own peril. (The boys in the debut were just Nashville randos; this one was about a Jonas Brother, back when that really meant something.) Obligatory fiddles aside, the original version is just about a perfect piece of pop-rock — dig how the guitars drop out at a pivotal moment — though the extended edition of Fearless also contains a piano version if you feel like having your guts ripped out. I have no idea what the lines about “rain in your bedroom” mean, but like the best lyrics, they make sense on an instinctual level. And to top it off, the track marks the introduction of Swift’s colloquial style — “Where is this GOoO-ING?” — that would serve her so well in the years to come.

16. “Mean,” Speak Now (2010): It takes some chutzpah to put a song complaining about mean people on the same album as “Better Than Revenge,” but lack of chutzpah has never been Swift’s problem. Get past that and you’ll find one of Swift’s most naturally appealing melodies and the joyful catharsis that comes with giving a bully what’s coming to them. (Some listeners have interpreted the “big enough so you can’t hit me” line to mean the song’s about abuse, but I’ve always read it as a figure of speech, as in “hit piece.”)

15. “Wildest Dreams,” 1989 (2014): Swift is in full control of her instrument here, with so much yearning in her voice that you’d swear every breath was about to be her last. For a singer often slammed as being sexless, those sighs in the chorus tell us everything we need to know. Bumped up a few spots for the invigorating double-time bridge, the best on 1989.

14. “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things,” Reputation (2017): Put aside the title, which can’t help but remind me of the time Hillary Clinton tweeted “delete your account.” The same way “I Did Something Bad” is the best possible version of “Look What You Made Me Do,” this is a much better rewrite of “Bad Blood.” Swift brings back the school-yard voice in the chorus, but also so much more: She does exaggerated politeness in the bridge, she spins the “Runaway” toast, she says the words “Therein lies the issue” like she’s been listening to Hamilton. The high point comes when she contemplates forgiving a hater, then bursts into an incredulous guffaw. Reader, I laughed out loud.

13. “Style,” 1989 (2014): The much-ballyhooed ’80s sound on 1989 often turned out to just mean Swift was using more synths than usual, but she nailed the vibe on this slinky single, which could have soundtracked a particularly romantic episode of Miami Vice. Despite the dress-up games in the chorus, this is one of the rare Swift love songs to feel truly adult: Both she and the guy have been down this road too many times to bullshit anymore. That road imagery is haunted by the prospect of death lurking around every hairpin turn — what’s sex without a little danger?

12. “Hey Stephen,” Fearless (2008): Who knew so many words rhymed with Stephen? They all come so naturally here. Swift is in the zone as a writer, performer, and producer on this winning deep cut, which gives us some wonderful sideways rhymes (“look like an angel” goes with “kiss you in the rain, so”), a trusty Hammond organ in the background, and a bunch of endearing little ad-libs, to say nothing of the kicker: “All those other girls, well they’re beautiful / But would they write a song for you?” For once, the mid-song laugh is entirely appropriate.

11. “Out of the Woods,” 1989 (2014): Like Max Martin, Antonoff’s influence as a collaborator has not been wholly positive: His penchant for big anthemic sounds can drown out the subtlety of Swift, and he’s been at the controls for some of her biggest misfires. But boy, does his Jack Antonoff thing work here, bringing a whole forest of drums to support Swift’s rapid-fire string of memories. The song’s bridge was apparently inspired by a snowmobile accident Swift was in with Harry Styles, an incident that never made the tabloids despite what seemed like round-the-clock coverage of the couple — a subtler reminder of the limits of media narratives than anything on Reputation.

10. “Love Story,” Fearless (2008): Full disclosure: This was the first Taylor Swift song I ever heard. (It was a freezing day in early 2009; I was buying shoes; basically, the situation was the total antithesis of anything that’s ever happened in a Taylor Swift song.) I didn’t like it at first. Who’s this girl singing about Romeo and Juliet, and doesn’t she know they die in the end?What I would soon learn was: not here they don’t, as Swift employs a key change so powerful it literally rewrites Shakespeare. The jury’s still out on the question of if she’s ever read the play, but she definitely hasn’t read The Scarlet Letter.

9. “State of Grace,” Red (2012): Swift’s songs are always full of interesting little nuggets you don’t notice until your 11th listen or so — a lyrical twist, maybe, or an unconventional drum fill — but most of them are fundamentally meant to be heard on the radio, which demands a certain type of songwriting and a certain type of sound. What a surprise it was, then, that Red opened with this big, expansive rock track, which sent dozens of Joshua Tree fans searching for their nearest pair of headphones. Another surprise: that she never tried to sound like this again. Having proven she could nail it on her first try, Swift set out to find other giants to slay.

8. “Ronan,” non-album digital single (2012): A collage of lines pulled from the blog of Maya Thompson, whose 3-year-old son had died of cancer, this charity single sees Swift turn herself into an effective conduit for the other woman’s grief. (Thompson gets a co-writing credit.) One of the most empathetic songs in Swift’s catalogue, as well as her most reliable tearjerker.

7. “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” Red (2012): Flash back to 2012. Carly Rae Jepsen had a No. 1 hit. Freaking Gotye had a No. 1 hit. LMFAO had two. And yet Swift, arguably the biggest pop star in the country, had never had a No. 1 hit. (“You Belong With Me” and “Today Was a Fairytale” had both peaked at No. 2.) And so she called up Swedish pop cyborg Max Martin, the man who makes hits as regularly as you and I forget our car keys. The first song they wrote together is still their masterpiece, though it feels wrong to say that “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” was written; better to say that it was designed, as Swift and Martin turn almost every single second of the song’s 3:12 run time into a hook. Think of that guitar loop, the snippets of millennial-speak in the margins (“cuz like”), those spiraling “ooh”s, the spoken-word bit that could have been overheard at any brunch in America, and towering over it all, that gigantic “we.” Like all hyper-efficient products it feels like a visitor from some cold algorithmic future: The sense of joy here is so perfectly engineered that you get the sense it did not come entirely from human hands.

6. “Our Song,” Taylor Swift (2006): Swift wrote this one for her ninth-grade talent show, and I have a lovely time imagining all the other competitors getting the disappointment of their lives once they realized what they were up against. (“But nice job with that Green Day cover, Andy.”) Even at this early stage Swift had a knack for matching her biggest melodic hooks to sentences that would make them soar; that “’cause it’s late and your mama don’t know” is absolutely ecstatic. She’s said she heard the entire production in her head while writing, and on the record Nathan Chapman brings out all the tricks in the Nashville handbook, and even some that aren’t, like the compressed hip-hop drums in the final refrain.

5. “Mine,” Speak Now (2010): As catchy as her Max Martin songs, but with more of a soul, “Mine” wins a narrow victory over “Our Song” on account of having a better bridge. This one’s another fantasy, and you can kind of tell, but who cares — Paul McCartney didn’t really fall in love with a meter maid, either. Swift packs in so many captivating turns of phrase here, and she does it so naturally: It’s hard to believe no one else got to “you are the best thing that’s ever been mine” before her, and the line about “a careless man’s careful daughter” is so perfect that you instantly know everything about the guy. Let’s give a special shout-out to Nathan Chapman again: His backup vocals are the secret weapon of Speak Now, and they’re at their very best here.

4. “Blank Space,” 1989 (2014): You know how almost every other song that’s even a little bit like “Blank Space” ranks very low on this list? Yeah, that’s how hard a trick Swift pulls off on this 1989 single, which manages to satirize her man-eater image while also demonstrating exactly what makes that image so appealing. The gag takes a perfectly tuned barometer for tone: “Look What You Made Me Do” collapsed under the weight of its own self-obsession; “Better Than Revenge” didn’t quite get the right amount of humor in. But Swift’s long history of code-switching works wonders for her here, as she gives each line just the right spin — enough irony for us to get the jokes, enough sincerity that we’ll all sing along anyway. Martin and Shellback bring their usual bells and whistles, but they leave enough empty space in the mix for the words to ring out. Who wouldn’t want to write their name?

3. “Fifteen,” Fearless (2008): For many young people, the real experience of romance is the thinking about it, not the actual doing it. (For an increasing number, the thinking about it is all they’re doing.) Swift gets this almost instinctively, and never more than on this early ballad about her freshman year of high school, which plays like a gentle memoir. Listen to how the emotional high point of the second verse is not something that happens, but her reaction to it: “He’s got a car and you feel like flyyying.” She knows that the real thing is awkward, occasionally unpleasant, and almost guaranteed to disappoint you — the first sentence she wrote for this one was “Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind / We both cried,” a line that became exhibit B in the case of Taylor Swift v. Feminism — and she knows how fantasies can sustain you when nothing else will. “In your life you’ll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team / but I didn’t know it at 15,” she sings, even though she’s only 18 herself. That there are plenty of people who spent their teenage years making out, smoking cigarettes, and reading Anaïs Nin doesn’t negate the fact that, for a lot of us squares, even the prospect of holding someone else’s hand could get us through an entire semester. Virgins need love songs, too.

2. “All Too Well,” Red (2012): It’s no wonder that music writers love this one: This is Swift at her most literary, with a string of impeccably observed details that could have come out of a New Yorker short story. “All Too Well” was the first song Swift wrote for Red; she hadn’t worked with Liz Rose since Fearless, but she called up her old collaborator to help her make sense of her jumble of memories from a relationship recently exploded. “She had a story and she wanted to say something specific. She had a lot of information,” Rose told Rolling Stone later. “I just let her go.” The original version featured something like eight verses; together the two women edited it down to a more manageable three, while still retaining its propulsive momentum. The finished song is a kaleidoscopic swirl of images — baby pictures at his parents’ house, “nights where you made me your own,” a scarf left in a drawer — always coming back to the insistence that these things happened, and they mattered: “I was there, I remember it all too well.” The words are so strong that the band mostly plays support; they don’t need anything flashier than a 4/4 thump and a big crescendo for each chorus. There are few moments on Red better than the one where Swift jumps into her upper register to deliver the knockout blow in the bridge. Just like the scarf, you can’t get rid of this song.

1. “You Belong With Me,” Fearless (2008): Swift was hanging out with a male friend one day when he took a call from his girlfriend. “He was completely on the defensive saying, ‘No, baby … I had to get off the phone really quickly … I tried to call you right back … Of course I love you. More than anything! Baby, I’m so sorry,’” she recalled. “She was just yelling at him! I felt so bad for him at that moment.” Out of that feeling, a classic was born. Swift had written great songs drawn from life before, but here she gave us a story of high school at its most archetypal: A sensitive underdog facing off with some prissy hot chick, in a battle to see which one of them really got a cute boy’s jokes. (Swift would play both women in the video; she had enough self-awareness to know that most outcasts are not tall, willowy blonde girls.) Rose says the song “just flowed out of” Swift, and you can feel that rush of inspiration in the way the lines bleed into each other, but there’s some subtle songcraft at work, too: Besides the lyrical switcheroos about who wears what, we also only get half the chorus the first go-round, just to save one more wallop for later. The line about short skirts and T-shirts will likely be mentioned in Swift’s obituary one day, and I think it’s key to the song’s, and by extension Swift’s, appeal: In my high school, even the most popular kids wore T-shirts.

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