#i need to see this live <- will never be able to afford concert tickets 🧍🏾‍♀️ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hongcherry · 4 years

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With You || jhs

“What’s a better way to surprise your boyfriend—who’s been gone on tour for five months—than to hide in his hotel room after one of his concerts on his birthday?”

🎂 Pairing: idol!Hoseok x Reader(f)

🎂 Rating/Genre: R(18+); smut, fluff, established relationship, idol au

🎂 Warnings: protected sex, cum swallowing, slight dirty talk, choking with a belt, switch!Hobi(?), slight praise kink, fingering... I’m pretty sure that’s it

🎂 Word Count: 5.0k

🎂 Beta: Tailia (Thank you sooooo much for assisting me in this! I really needed your guidance for this one hehe)

🎂 Author’s Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNG HOSEOK!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope your day is fabulous just like you. // I don’t normally write in the present tense, but I decided to switch it up. This was a little rushed (because I don’t know the concept of stop writing) but I hope you all still enjoy it. I tried to keep it under 5k...

masterlist

It’s been nearly five months since you saw Hoseok in person.

As you wait for him in his hotel room’s chair, you picture his joyous expression on stage tonight. He was glowing in his element and it made the pang in your chest ease. While you selfishly want to lock him in your apartment and chuck the key into the abyss, you know that isn’t an option. He radiates ecstasy when he performs and you would be the spawn of Satan to steal that from him. He lives up to his sunshine nickname and you can’t stop your heart from falling for him all over again.

Earlier this week you had arranged with the staff to fly you out for Hoseok’s birthday. Although you had access to getting a front-row seat or a backstage pass, you were worried Hoseok might spot you so you watched from the stadium's skybox. You left as soon as the concert ended so you could surprise him in his room. You’ve never done this before or discussed this with Hoseok. Your financial status wasn’t the best and you wanted to surprise him, however, you were finally able to accumulate enough funds to pay for a plane ticket. You insisted on paying for part of the hotel fee too, but the staff declined the offer. After arguing about it for a few minutes, you ended up succumbing. They seemed adamant about their decision, so you let it be and spent the spare money on Hoseok’s birthday gifts instead.

You can’t stop the slight shaking in your hands as you mess with the gift bag in your lap. It is a small bag that contains a beaded and threaded bracelet you made, a can of Sprite (just for the giggles), and a custom chain necklace. The necklace is minimalistic but you had used all your extra funds to get the best quality you could afford. It’s a sterling silver bar pendant hanging vertically from a thin chain with two small charms on either side consisting of your birthstones. Engraved on the bar pendant is yours and Hoseok’s anniversary in Roman numerals.

Your anxiousness grows as the sound of Hoseok’s laugh echoes in the hallway. Despite being eager to see your boyfriend, you are also nervous about his reaction. You are almost positive he will be thrilled to see you, but you begin second-guessing yourself. Your slouched body straightens and your eyes are glued in the direction of the entryway of the room. You aren’t able to get a direct view of the door because of the room’s layout, unfortunately.

A minute later the door beeps, granting access to the newcomer. Your heart races as you hold your breath.

“Goodnight! Tonight was special. Thank you for the birthday wishes,” Hoseok calls out. There is a chorus of replies before the door clicks closed. Your ears feel sensitive to sounds as you hone in on his movements. There’s a sigh followed by a deep inhale before you hear feet shuffling. The breath you are holding escapes when you see him. His hair is damp from sweat, loose shirt french-tucked in his pants. The glow you saw on stage is still emitting from his body, and you figure he’s coming down from the thrill of being in front of thousands of people.

His eyes are cast down as he tosses his bag to the floor and fishes out his phone. You want to make your presence known, but your throat has closed up. You aren’t sure if it’s from nervousness or if his presence simply makes you speechless. He’s handsome in every way and you haven’t been this close in proximity in months. Your phone’s quality does nothing to showcase just how breathtaking he truly is.

A loud ringing suddenly breaks the room’s silence, which has you and Hoseok jolting. His head snaps to where the sound is coming from. You realize you have accidentally left your phone on the room’s table. Your heart swells knowing that his first action after returning from his concert is to call you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow silently at the unknown phone. When he recognizes the phone case, his eyes widen and his gaze frantically roams the room. A loud gasp leaves his lips when he finally spots you and he haphazardly ends the phone call. You stand up when he notices you, unable to contain the giggles that escape your lips at his dancing feet. He can’t stop the happiness that erupts in his chest or the millions of small sounds tumbling from his mouth. Once he successfully hangs up, he throws his phone on the bed and rushes toward you.

“This isn’t real,” he murmurs in disbelief as he scoops your frame into his strong arms. You place the gift bag down quickly before your arms secure themselves around his neck. He buries his face in your neck, giving you a tight squeeze. You can feel his thudding heart against your chest and it makes you tighten your hold on him.

“Hi, Hobi,” you giggle and pull away to see his face. He is beaming, heart-shaped lips stretching from ear to ear. His wide smile has yours growing bigger. It’s such a contagious smile. His eyes dance across your face as he tries to process what is happening.

“Happy birthday,” you continue and peck your lips against the mole on his upper lip. You realize he’s still stunned by your unforeseen appearance to form coherent sentences. Though at the quick kiss, he comes out of his daze and presses his lips against yours for a proper kiss. The simple action has your body relaxing into his hold. Maybe it’s because you were away for so long—yes five months is a lot to you—but the kiss feels different. It’s unexpected from what you thought it would be; it’s a mixture of lust and passion rather than desperation and eagerness. Before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away again. His lips dip in a frown before he tries again. Laughing, you press a hand flat against his chest to stop him.

“I got you gifts. I want you to open them,” you say. When he doesn’t release his hold, you take it upon yourself and tug his arms from your body.

“I don’t need them,” he mumbles and reaches out to grab you. “You’re the perfect birthday present.”

You snort at his corny comment and snatch the small bag from the chair. You motion for him to sit down where the gift once was, which he complies to wordlessly. He grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap, legs hanging over his own.

“How did this happen?” He questions, referring to your arrival.

You hand him the small bag while you answer, “I asked the staff if I could surprise you. When they said yes, I booked the first flight. I was even able to make your concert tonight,” you pause as you remember his performances. “You looked so incredible up there, baby.”

His smile grows at your words. You are sure his cheeks are hurting from how much he is smiling.

“I’m glad you were able to come tonight. Where did you watch from? Backstage?”

“The skybox. I couldn’t risk you seeing me,” you reply with a shake of your head.

He hums in understanding, “I can pay you back for your ticket.”

“No way! I’ve told you before, I don’t want your money. This is a surprise for you. Plus,” you begin teasingly. “You’re not supposed to pay for your own birthday presents.”

“Presents?” He asks when he catches the plural noun. You sheepishly nod, not meaning to disclose you have multiple gifts for him. He hums again.

“I know people usually don’t buy their own gifts,” he says, rubbing a hand along your legging-clad thigh. “But I know you have other expenses to pay for. You shouldn’t spend your money on me.”

“I shouldn’t spend my money on those candies I’m addicted to either, but,” you trail off. When he opens his mouth to argue, you place a finger against his lips momentarily. “I want you to open your gift please.”

He frowns at being silenced and you can see the gears in his head turning. You raise an eyebrow in warning, eyes glancing down at the small bag in his hands before returning to his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he succumbs and removes his hand from your leg. You watch anxiously as he pulls out the tissue paper you had placed inside. His hand comes in contact with the Sprite can first and he chuckles at the present.

“Of course. My true love,” he jokes and sets the can on the nightstand nearby before moving to the next item. He pulls out the two bracelets you made and instantly puts them both on.

“Did you really make these for me?” He asks, examining the colorful bracelets hanging from his lean wrists.

“Do you like them? I wasn’t sure if they were your style, but I wanted to make something for you,” you answer apprehensively. He reassures you with a press of his lips against yours.

“I’m never taking them off,” he replies before moving to the final gift. Naturally, you’re most anxious about this present. What if he thinks the pendants are too cheesy? Watching him open the tissue paper that contains the necklace feels like watching snails race. Perhaps it’s just because you are anticipating his response. When he finally raises the chain, you bite your lower lip.

He brings his other hand to cup the pendants to get a better look at them. He flips the bar pendant over, reading the Roman numerals with wide eyes. He analyzes the two birthstone charms with equal rapt attention.

“Is this what I think it is?” He questions, eyes glancing at you then back at the necklace.

“What do you think it is?” You counter. He chuckles at your answer and clasps the necklace around his neck.

“Do I even want to know how much this costs?”

“Stop thinking about money so much,” you huff with a small frown. He instantly reaches out and repositions your body so you are straddling his lap.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s just that I should be the one spoiling you. This means so much to me, Yn,” he says sincerely. He captures your lips in a soft kiss to express his admiration.

“Hm, too bad,” you reply when you pull away. “I love you too much to not spoil you.”

“I’m never taking this off, either,” he adds and glances down at the necklace hanging from his neck. “Thank you for the amazing gifts. You didn’t ha-”

“Have to,” you interrupt, finishing his sentence. “I know. You tell me this all the time,” you giggle. “Eventually you’ll realize you deserve all the gifts in the world and more. You put out so much happiness into the world; it’s only right for it to be reciprocated.”

This time, it is you who initiates the kiss. It is steady and gentle compared to the whirling emotions in your chest. Even the movements of his tongue against yours are slow, powered by the yearning of being in each other’s embrace for the first time in months. You figured your kisses would be frantic—almost animalistic—at the separation; however, it is the opposite. It is as if you both are gradually memorizing each other’s taste, dips, and curves.

Hoseok’s hands roam up and down your sides, warming your already heated body. You pull from him to travel kisses along his jawline then to his neck.

“Is this part of my present, too?” He teases, head leaning to the side to allow you more access. His hands lower to the swell of your ass and squeeze gently. You smile against his skin, pressing another kiss against him.

“Not necessarily,” you answer honestly. Since this was an unexpected visit and he was sure to be tired from his concert, you weren’t certain about his feelings toward having sex. Which was why you didn’t plan to. You realize now that it was a ridiculous assumption. It isn’t surprising that you find yourself in this position. You haven’t felt his body against yours in months. Despite the sexting and the dirty talk over facetime and phone calls, getting yourself off isn’t anywhere near as satisfying as having his cock buried inside your walls.

“It can be though,” you continue after pressing another kiss on his neck. You pull back slightly to eye him. “What does the birthday boy want?”

He hums as he thinks, hands rolling the flesh of your ass in his strong palms. “I want to hear you moan my name while I pound into your tight pussy.”

Your lips quirk up, a smirk finding its way onto your face. Your eyes darken as lust consumes your veins at his words.

“Wish granted,” you reply. “But I have one request.”

He watches you carefully as he waits for you to continue. His hands glide up your back and slide under your shirt, tracing small circles against your skin.

“I want you to relax,” you continue and graze your fingertips down his taut torso. “You’ve been working so diligently. Let me take care of you.”

He smiles at your request. “I’ll try,” he says. He often was the one in control and while you didn’t mind that at all, it is his birthday and he deserves to be pampered. You return the smile, pressing your lips against his quickly before going back to his neck.

As you’re licking and biting his tender skin, his hands make their way to cup your breasts through the sheer lace bra you’re wearing. A low moan vibrates his chest when you begin sucking the spot that has him squirming under your touch. His hands give your breasts a rough squeeze before they move to unclasp your bra. You feel him harden under you and it causes you to roll your hips against him slowly. He moans again and pulls your shirt from your body, forcing you to pull away from his neck. You discard your bra to the floor while Hoseok tugs his shirt over his head. Your eyes lower to his chest, eyes following the lines created by the dips in his torso. Your hands immediately reach out and slide down his muscular chest. He chuckles lowly at your reaction and pulls you toward him again.

His lips meet yours with the same steady pace from earlier. Your body is jittery at the feel of his exposed skin pressing against yours. You feel eager and the slow pace is making you feel impatient; however, you force yourself to follow his pace. It’s sensual and you want to imprint this moment in your mind for when you have to leave tomorrow morning.

One of your arms hangs off the back of the chair while your other is pressing against his body, fingers tangling in his locks. You gradually begin to roll your hips against him again. The wetness between your legs is growing each time you brush against his growing cock. Hoseok’s breathing becomes ragged and he pulls away from the kiss with a deep inhale. His eyes darken with desire and he leans forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. A moan slips past your parted lips, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your bud. He brings one of his hands to cup the breast he’s working on, moaning against your skin as you continue the rotation of your hips. His hand shifts to your other breast and repeats his assault. Your back arches into his touch and you set your hands on his strong shoulders.

Your mind clouds as you memorize each lick and bite he makes against your soft flesh. You feel like you’re being consumed by his vine-like grip, slipping into a euphoric black hole.

“I’ve missed you,” you sigh softly, glancing down when he pulls away, teeth scraping your nipple gently. He smiles at you, eyes softening at the confession and slides his hands to your ass again. “I’ve missed you too, baby.”

You’ve lost count of how many kisses you two exchanged—each one just as passionate as the previous. His lips feel heavenly against yours and it makes you wish you could indulge in your selfishness to hold him hostage. You wish you could steal him away the next morning instead of saying goodbye. Your melancholy thoughts are halted when the sound of fabric ripping echoes in the hotel room. Your mouth pulls off his with a gasp as you feel the cool air hit the exposed skin of your ass. He’s quick to move your underwear to the side.

Before you could voice your complaints, however, Hoseok slides a slender finger through your slick folds. Your body jerks when he rubs against your aching clit. Despite his devilish actions, he wears his cheery smile. There is a hint of mischief, though, and you hate the way it makes your heart tumble. It’s unfair how innocent he appears while rubbing tight circles against your clit. Hoseok gradually slides from your bud to your dripping folds. He suddenly dips his finger in your entrance, eliciting a moan from your throat. He pumps his finger a few times before swiftly inserting another one. You mewl at the pleasuring sensation.

“I-I’m the one supposed to be p-pleasuring you,” you quiver when he increases his speed; your nails digging slightly into his skin. The squelching noise that emits from his quick pace has your cheeks reddening. Hoseok smiles at your reaction, uncaring at the obscene noises.

“You are pleasuring me though,” he replies, watching with appreciation as your face contorts in bliss at his touch. You lean forward to rest your head against Hoseok’s shoulder as you feel your cheeks darken under his stare. He places a tender kiss on your head as you stay rooted to your spot.

You shake your head gently and start to fumble with his buckle and pant buttons. Hoseok slows his movements and begins to spread his fingers, moaning inwardly at how tight you are.

“Not what I meant,” you mumble and focus on undoing his pants while holding back a moan. He chuckles softly, lifting his hips off the chair momentarily for you to slide his pants and underwear down. As you sit up straighter, your hands greedily take his hardened cock in your hands, loving the way he squirms under your touch briefly at the new sensation. You miss the heavy feeling of his dick in your grip. Your thumb smears the leaking precum from his tip, and you smile when Hoseok shudders. He slips his glistening fingers from you and to your hips.

“I-I don’t have,” he begins suddenly, eyes widening and pink lips dipping into a frown. You understand what he is referring to and quickly climb off his lap. He watches you with admiration as you make your way to your hidden bag. You take out the small foil packet and return to your boyfriend.

Hoseok is slouched down the chair slightly, pants discarded from his ankles, and hand stroking his large member. You slow your steps as you take in the sight. He is striking as he sits there, staring at you with a concentrated face. His once bubbly smile is replaced with a hungry expression. His intimidating stare on you is like pouring gasoline on a burning flame—igniting a fireball within the pit of your stomach.

You tear the packet open as you make your way in front of him. He moves his hands to rest them on the chair’s armrest, leaning his head back as he watches your movements carefully.

Once the condom is successfully on, you gently ascend his lap again. You glide your other hand between your legs slowly. His hands rest on the curve of your waist, bottom lip captured in his teeth as he watches you slide his dick between your soaking folds. Your eyes flicker to the new chain around his neck, mouth curling into a smile at the sight.

Distracted by the gift you got him, you don’t realize he has reached down and retrieved his belt. Your lips part in surprise when you feel the cool leather wrap around your neck and tighten. It’s loose enough to allow you to breathe—replicating the feeling of wearing a comfortable choker.

“That alright?” He murmurs as he leans back into the chair again. The hand holding the end of the belt rests on the chair’s arm while the other massages your waist. You nod with a confirming smile and press your lips against his while aligning his length to your entrance.

The moment his tip stretches your tight hole, a blend of moans and sighs leave both your lips. You sink yourself lower gradually, eyes never leaving his as he fills you. His momentarily intimidating gaze transitions into his cheerful stare. He pulls you down by the belt and kisses you deeply.

“Shit, baby,” Hoseok breathes out as he pulls away from the kiss. You still your hips when he bottoms out, taking the moment to soak in the feeling of your walls hugging his cock deliciously. “You’re as perfect as I remember.”

You giggle at his comment, “You feel so much better than my fingers.”

Hoseok smiles as he recalls the numerous late-night FaceTime calls he has exchanged with you during the tour, your legs spread on the screen, two fingers buried in your pussy, with your soft mewl sounding from in his headphones.

“I would hope so,” he teases and gives your side a squeeze. After another quick kiss, your hands flatten against his chest as you begin to lift your hips up, sliding back down and repeating the action.

A satisfied sigh leaves Hoseok’s lips as he leans his head back on the chair. Your speed is agonizingly slow initially. You savor the feeling of him buried within your warmth, rubbing against your walls in a way only he could. It makes you want to cancel your flight and follow him to the next city.

One hand slides to the nape of Hoseok’s neck while the other rests behind you on his knee. A moan erupts in your throat as you lean back slightly, rocking your hips and feeling the soft brush from his skin against your swollen clit. Your movements become rougher at the sensation—desired to feel it again. Hoseok tugs on the belt as he watches your body move like liquid against him. While he enjoyed being the one to pound your pussy open, he did admit this was an alluring view.

Your eyes are half-lidded, mouth parting in a small pout, and eyebrows knitting in pleasure. His thighs tense at the urge to fuck up into you. His jaw clenches at the thought and he tugs harder on the belt to restrict himself from the act, causing you to make a sound that is in the middle of a moan and a whimper as the air gets pulled from your lungs.

Your moves begin to become frantic as you feel the fire in your tummy grow brighter. You straighten your posture, hands traveling to glide up your own body. Your hands massage your breasts, twisting your nipples briefly as your hips move in a mix of rolls, swivels, and bounces. Hoseok follows your hands with his free one—loving the way your body trembles under his ghost-like touches.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Hoseok praises softly and smacks your ass playfully. You moan at his praise and clench around his large cock. Hoseok groans at the feeling and places both hands firmly on your hips; the belt is caught between his palm and your side. Your hands trail to grip his wrists. Sensing you are nearing your orgasm, he begins to move your hips rougher.

“You’re doing so well, jagi,” he hums. Your noises are increasing in volume, not considering you are residing in a room that probably has thin walls. “You close?” He asks gently despite his powerful actions. With his assistance, you are moving faster than before. Your hands squeeze his wrists tightly as you nod. His cock is rubbing against a spot that is driving you insane. It empties your mind and makes you dizzy for every inch of him.

“Hobi,” you moan when you feel yourself near the edge.

“Come on, baby. Come all over my cock,” he demands, letting out a low growl.

Your climax comes quick—creating tiny flashes of white in your vision as you come hard for the first time in months. Your voice is hoarse as his name falls from your lips between moans. No toy or self touches left you as satisfied as you are now. They would never be enough. You realize how much you need Hoseok as he tugs you forward by the belt. His lips come crashing upon yours, selfishly drowning your cries. It pains you to have been deprived of his touches for months.

The kiss is messy and brief. He tears himself from you, releasing the belt to let it rest between the valley of your breasts, before pulling your arms behind your back. His hips meet yours speedily. A loud whine sounds from your sore throat as he pounds into your sensitive pussy.

“Fuck,” he moans unabashedly. “You’re taking my cock so well, baby.”

His eyes roam your sweaty form—from the way your breasts bounce with each smack of his hips to the way you suck him in your tight walls. The lewd noises from his skin slapping yours grow louder in the room. His pace is rough.

“Hobi,” you tremble from the oversensitivity and try to tug your arms from his grasp. His thrusts become sloppier quickly. His breathing is more ragged and his hair is sticking to his face.

Suddenly, he releases your arms and gently nudges you off him. You follow his lead and kneel on the floor, legs tucking under you as you open your mouth in anticipation.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs as he slides the condom off and places his tip against your hanging tongue. He rapidly pumps his cock, eyes flickering between the sweet look in your eyes and his throbbing dick. You sit patiently and raise your hands to his strong thighs. Usually, you would keep your hands resting on top of your thighs, but you miss the feel of his skin too much to sit idle. Your gentle strokes on his legs contrast his rapid movements.

Hoseok lets out a guttural moan as he feels himself tumbling over his edge. The sight of his cum spilling on your tongue and part of your lips has him feeling intoxicated. Your eyes are glued to his as you swallow. You swipe your tongue along your lips to collect the remaining drops, smiling up at your boyfriend.

A breathy chuckle leaves his lips and he leans down, placing his hands on your arms softly to help you up. He carefully removes the belt from your throat and presses soothing kisses to the tender skin. Another laugh sounds from Hoseok when your knees buckle. He shuffles you to the bed and guides you to sit on the soft mattress.

“I love you,” he whispers as he hovers over you, hand brushing your thigh and causing goosebumps to form. A lazy smile shapes your lips and you quietly repeat the words.

When he is sure you are stable, he leaves for the bathroom. He appears a second later with a warm rag in his hand. He wipes at your mouth despite there being nothing there, but just in case he thought to himself.

Although your body feels fatigued from your flight and recent activities with Hoseok, you force yourself to stay awake. He must feel the same because his eyes are drooping.

“You know,” Hoseok mumbles as he follows the curves of your side lazily. His head is propped up on his hand while lays on his side to face you. “Some people celebrate their birthday for an entire week.”

Your eyebrows raise in suspension, fingers slowing their movement in his hair. “Yeah? What about it?”

“You could celebrate this week with me,” he explains then softer, “Stay with me.”

“Hobi…I-” you begin.

“Have to work. I know,” he replies, a hint of sorrow to his voice. He appreciates that you’re not with him for his money. He’s learned over the span of your relationship you would never be the type of person to use or manipulate him. However, he wishes you allowed him to spoil you more. He wants to voluntarily give you all the jewels in the world. He doesn’t feel coerced to do so. “But just this once—just this once let me treat you. Let me be selfish and keep you next to me.”

Your eyes stare into his as you try to form a decision in your mind. Your heart tears in two at wanting to show him you love him for more than his membership in BTS and wanting to indulge in his company a little longer. Your flight is in five hours and you’re scheduled to work later that day. His eyes hold yours as he silently pleads for you to agree.

Your mind is wandering so much that you don’t see him leaning in. His lips meet yours for the millionth time tonight—though you aren’t complaining. Even after he pulls away, you can feel his touch linger on your mouth.

As if the kiss cast you under his spell, you whisper, “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Hoseok instantly grins at your response, lips finding yours in the low-lit room. The act has your heart racing and you recognize the all too familiar feeling of butterflies welling within your stomach.

“I’ll stay with you, birthday boy,” you add playfully.

His laugh brings a smile to your lips and you feel your chest fill with warmth. It’s a comforting sensation and you realize this is where home is—right in his arms.

HAPPY H✿BI DAY 🎉 HOBI HOBI HOBIIIIII!!! Strawberry~

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

Text

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth. "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

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vivisextion · 3 years

Text

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

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scarlettriot · 3 years

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RichKidKirishima HC

I have opinions on this topic and I just want to get them out in the world.

Warning, it gets sad for a little while.

If you turn your head to the side and squint you might see a tiny bit of KiriBaku and/or KiriMina. Maybe. Sorry but I didn't proof this and I was kinda sleepy when I wrote it. Still hope you like it though!

So, I think Eijiro's parents had a decent amount of money, probably worked good jobs. I don't think they were Yaoyorozu's rich but probably somewhere along the lines of Todoroki's. What they did exactly, I'm not sure of either but I like to think high-class event coordinators (this is a HC after all).

Rolling with the event coordinator's idea... after planning a lavish gala for the top heroes, they were on their way home to pick up little Eijiro when a tragic event happened and they were killed. Everything they had was left to their only child at just six years old.

But, Eijiro wouldn't be all alone. His aunt might have only been 19 and she certainly wasn't ready to be a parent but she wasn't going to let her only nephew become an orphan. She took him in and raised him on her own. Most of his parent's money had been put away until Eijiro reached a certain age but his aunt was granted access to make sure he could go to the best school and live a comfortable life.

...

His aunt did the absolute best she could to raise him and she thinks she's done a pretty good job thus far even though she's convinced most of it is just because Eijiro is a truly good person at heart.

Even though money was never really a problem for them, she still worked two jobs to make sure Eijiro would have as much of the inheritance his parents left for him as possible when he became an adult.

So many nights she'd fall asleep on the sofa with her work uniform and shoes still on. She would wake up in the morning to find the shoes sitting by the front door and a blanket over her and the world's sweetest nephew in the kitchen making breakfast (usually cereal or peanut butter toast) while watching highlight reels of his favorite Pro Hero, Crimson Riot.

She took advantage of a rare night off when Eijiro was ten to go out on a date... it didn't go well, to say the least. She hoped her nephew would be asleep when she came home so she could properly cover up the black eye she received and clean up her knuckles but he was up watching a holiday special in his pajamas when she opened the front door.

Little Eijiro FLIPPED the moment he saw her injured. He tried pulling her back out the door wanting her to go to the hospital but she insisted she'd be alright. The furious ten-year-old then went around the kitchen gathering an ice pack and carefully wrapping it up in a towel for her. He sat on her lap and pressed it oh so gently to her eye muttering about how the man was a super unmanly guy for hitting a girl.

When she chuckled and took the ice pack from him he noticed her blooded knuckles too, "I can take care of myself, little shark." He hopped off her lap and ran to get the first aid kit to a much different tune.

"I HAVE THE MANLIEST AUNTIE EVER!"

He did insist on meeting all of her future dates after that. Something she avoided up until that point because being not even 25 with a ten-year-old had a way of making dating...challenging. She agreed to his terms though, this was right around the time his protective nature began to kick in. Eijiro always wanted to do the right thing even if he didn't know how.

She remembered Eijiro feeling insecure as he reached his early teen years. Feeling like he wasn't enough, not strong enough to help people and she wished like hell her brother was still alive to help. Eijiro wouldn't really talk to her about his problems, he'd just smile and tell her everything was alright. She started to get really worried but then something in him changed.

He was suddenly asking her if he could buy a heavy bag and if he could sign up for a gym membership, wanting to take boxing classes. Of course, she supported it and when he told her he wanted to go to UA and become a Pro Hero, she couldn't have been more proud.

He had a friend to train with, a young girl who pushed him to be his best and he was pushing right back! A real friend. It was all she could have wanted for him. The cheers that filled her living room when the pair found out they'd both be attending UA were enough to make her cry.

She would be a nervous wreck but that came with being a parent...

A very proud, absolutely terrified parent who couldn't wait to see the amazing things her little shark would do.

...

Eijiro was old enough when the tragedy occurred that he remembers his parents, his mother's smile, and his father's booming laugh. He'd give all the money back they left for him if it meant having his parents back and that's why he never flaunts that he has any. He hates where it came from.

It isn't until he starts making really close friends that he starts to spend some of the money on them without a second thought.

He'd do little things like paying for their ice cream after school with Mina which she would thank him over and over for. He'd also buy her big things like tickets to a concert he knew she couldn't afford on her own. Seeing the pure joy and excitement on her face was more than enough to know he was doing something he could feel good about.

He liked being able to spontaneously buy things for his friends when he got to UA. It was a way for him to think of the money he was given without feeling upset and shitty about it.

And when Bakugo was taken, when he wasn't there to do anything to help in that moment and he instantly felt like he was six years old, weak and helpless with nothing he could do to protect his friend, Eijiro remembered he could do something.

He used a small portion of his allowance to buy the goggles hoping it would make rescuing Bakugo easier. It made more sense to him to spend it on things to help others and that was what he did. His money wasn't just there to buy gifts but he could also use it to buy tools and resources.

He would fight tooth and nail to protect the ones he cared about. Spend every coin he had if it meant keeping them safe as well as happy.

...

Eijiro had full access to his inheritance when he was 18 but he didn't touch it. He relied solely on what he made as a pro hero. Got himself an apartment that he shared with Tamaki and Tetsutetsu.

The first time he accessed the funds was when his auntie told him she was pregnant. He was going to be a big brother. And he was going to spoil the crap out of this little kid!

In his twenties, he began donating some of the funds away. He made plenty as one of the top ten pro heroes anyways. Enough to support his own growing family as well as making sure his auntie had whatever she needed. He always lived well below his means, never taking a single thing for granted.

He knew better than anyone what it was like to have something you care for so much vanish in an instant.

Eijiro couldn't remember too much of his parents anymore but, if he closed his eyes, he could still see his mother's smile and hear his father's boisterous laugh, both of which they passed onto him.

They gave him the means to make something great with his life even if they weren't physically with him anymore and for that, he'd always be thankful.

#mha headcanons #bnha hcs #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima hcs #kiribaku #thiswasarollercoastertowrite #im in my feels #eijiro kirishima #kirimina #kiribaku fluff #kirimina fluff

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illuflower · 3 years

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Opening Free Tarot/ Oracle Readings for Tips! 🤺

Help me afford BTS tickets!!! ❤️

I would appreciate if you would all read the WHOLE post before sending your request for some context and rules!

I've been having an atrocious month and am turning to tipped readings again to hopefully brighten me up a little! I know a lot of my followers are also kpop fans and may know that BTS announced 4 concerts in LA in November and December. I do live in California and am desperate to go to make myself feel better because my mental health has been in a terrible place.

I have never been to a concert before EVER, let alone a BTS one. The tickets should go on sale for me on the 7th, and I would really appreciate if you guys could help me afford them with tipped readings! All tipping information is pinned on my page ❤️

Rules:

No yes or no questions. I won't be able to answer them with cards.

No asking "when" something will happen. Those also cannot accurately be answered with my cards.

I only pull one card per request, so it's better to only ask one question per request. You can get multiple readings!

I will usually get to you within 24 hours!

If you want more cards pulled, you can get a paid reading where the amount of cards pulled scales with how much you pay and gain access to specific spread requests! For paid readings, you just need to send me the balance first with your Tumblr username in the "reason why" area.

I'm really hoping that this works out better than it did last time! Before requesting, please bear in mind that this IS mostly for tips and that overwhelming me with free requests without them is an easy way to make me need to close them again. Doing readings can be very draining.

I look forward to seeing all of your requests! ❤️♾️

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deja-you · 4 years

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foreign affairs | part one | paris

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: In 2020, Representative Y/n L/n is up for reelection. Lafayette, Y/n’s former best friend and current French socialite and playboy, decides this is the time to walk back into her life.

word count: 6.8k

trailer | next

2012 was the year he broke his arm and broke her heart.

During her sophomore year of college, Y/n decided she wanted to study abroad in France. She had taken a few years of French in high school and college, not enough to be fluent, but enough to hold a short conversation. Lots of college students studied abroad, and seeing as Y/n was majoring in Political Science and International Affairs, it made sense.

Paying for a year abroad was another story. Since her senior year in high school, Y/n had been saving up the money she earned from waitressing, and with the help from her parents, she was just able to afford the trip to France.

During the first week in Paris, faculty members took students around the city to see different attractions. Most students went to see the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe. Y/n preferred to see France’s president’s residence, the Élysée Palace. It was built back in 1718, and the beige colored stone -- we don’t really care what this building looked like, do we? It’s a building in Paris, of course it had beautiful architecture. We’re all wondering why this is significant, right?

Okay, so Y/n loved politics and history and foundations of democracy and republicanism. She was standing outside the French White House (it’s not really white, we’ve covered this, it’s more of a beige color, but I think “White House” is a term we all understand). Y/n was probably admiring the architecture that your author is refusing to describe. Now this is where it gets more interesting.

“Pretty building, isn’t it?”

A man leaning against one wall was watching Y/n while he lit his cigarette. He had spoken plainly in English; was it that obvious that Y/n was American.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/n replied politely.

“Very. Soon it’s going to be my home.”

This piqued Y/n’s interest. “Are you running for president? I can’t remember anyone that looked like you in the polls.”

If she was being honest, she had never met anyone that looked like him in general. Charming brown eyes, curly hair, neat stubble, and a smile she would’ve remembered. He gave her an amused look and raised his cigarette to his lips.

“You wouldn’t,” he replied, then offered his hand for her to shake. “You can call me Lafayette.”

Y/n shook his hand, but she was still confused. “And you’re running for president, Lafayette? I have to say, you might need to work on your name recognition.”

“I am not running for president, chérie. Perhaps you’re more familiar with my mother, Jolie de la Rivière?”

He watched as the realization hit her.

“Jolie de la Rivière? As in the frontrunner in the presidential election?”

“The very one. I am surprised an American keeps up with French politics.”

It made sense now. Y/n could see the resemblance between this stranger she had just met and the future French president. De la Rivière had been leading in the polls since she announced her campaign, and it was almost certain that she would win the election in April. Y/n just happened to run into de la Rivière’s son?

“You want to get something to eat?” Lafayette asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Y/n was still in shock, but she nodded, wanting to know more about the man she had just met. “Okay.”

They crossed the street to a café (there was a café at nearly every corner in Paris) and took seats outside. Y/n let Lafayette order for both of them even though she knew enough French to order herself, she didn’t want to give him any reason to make fun of her poor French accent.

“So,” Lafayette said, watching Y/n curiously, “you’re an American in Paris, huh?”

“I suppose so. But less “starving artist” vibes and less musical numbers,” Y/n quipped. Was she really talking to the son of the future French president, and he was asking about her?

“So if you’re not a starving artist, what are you doing in Paris?”

“I’m a student at Georgetown and I’m spending the semester studying abroad,” Y/n informed him.

“What are you majoring in?”

“Political Science and International Affairs.”

“Political Science at Georgetown? You must be smart. Will I see you running for president some day?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed. “I don’t know about that. Maybe I’ll find a job working on a campaign or for a Senator. I don’t have it all worked out yet.”

“Neither do I,” Lafayette said. This made Y/n pause. She could tell he was a few years older than her. He was also Jolie de la Rivière’s son. How could he not have his whole life worked out?

“What’d you mean?” Y/n asked.

He shrugged. “Everyone expects me to follow in my mother’s footsteps. It’s not that I’m not interested in politics and government, I just... I just don’t want to live in her shadow forever.”

“I see,” Y/n said. “At least you’ll have connections no matter what you decide to do.”

“That is very true.”

They continued talking for an hour or so. Lafayette would ask her what it was like living in the United States. Y/n would ask him what it was like having a powerhouse mom. The conversation came easily to both of them, something Y/n had never expected from a stranger.

When the bill came, Y/n ultimately let Lafayette pay for their lunch after much protesting (Y/n only allowed for him to pay because she was a broke college student). Then Lafayette asked for Y/n’s phone number, which she gladly gave to him. He promised he’d call or text sometime and they went their separate ways.

He said he’d call, but Y/n was expecting within the next few days or weeks. She was not expecting him to call her only a few hours later.

“Y/n, hey!” Came his voice from the other line.

“Lafayette? Hi?”

“I know this is sudden, but there’s this concert at a small venue tonight. I have a few tickets, and I was wondering if you and some of your friends wanted to join me tonight?”

“Um, okay, yeah?”

“Great! I’ll send you the information.”

And then he hung up. True to his word, he sent her a text with the time and address a few minutes later. Y/n invited two of her suite mates, Rebecca and Joe, to come with her. Then a few hours later, they showed up at a small but lively concert venue. Lafayette met them there, wearing a more casual outfit, and they all went in together.

Y/n honestly couldn’t remember who was performing that night. She didn’t remember much, but she knew she had more drinks than she should’ve, that the music was loud, and that the room was incredibly hot. What she couldn’t forget was the headache she woke up with the next morning. At the very least, she had made it into her own bed even though she hadn’t made it out of the clothes she had worn out the night before.

She grabbed her water bottle from beside the bed and took a long drink. When that didn’t help, she went to find Rebecca or Joe to ask what had happened the night before. Rebecca’s room was closer, so she knocked on the door before opening it.

“Hey, Rebec-- Oh my god!”

She quickly shut her eyes but she wouldn’t be able to unsee partially naked Lafayette struggling to quickly put his clothes back on. Y/n cringed and closed the door quickly behind her. What had she just seen? Why was Lafayette in Rebecca’s room? And why was he naked?

“Y/n, mon dieu, you weren’t supposed to see that!” Lafayette had finished dressing and followed Y/n out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“What exactly was that?” Y/n asked.

He held a finger to his lips and motioned at the door. “Rebecca’s still asleep.”

“So you and... that happened?”

Lafayette rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, I guess so. It was all a blur... but, yeah.”

“We all got pretty drunk last night,” Y/n justified.

“Er, not exactly. You and Joe had a lot of drinks, but Rebecca and I decided to stay sober enough to get everyone back. So once we got you and Joe home, well, we kind of...” He trailed off and his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Oh. I see.” Y/n didn’t know what to say. “Are you and Rebecca like... a thing now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

Lafayette really didn’t know. Neither did Rebecca.

In the next two weeks, they hooked up a few more times before deciding they were best off as friends. After that, it was a Parisian girl named Celeste. Y/n quickly got used to Lafayette’s flirtatious nature and him constantly bringing around a new girl. Sometimes it was annoying, sometimes it was a point of humor. It didn’t matter too much to Y/n, she was content being friends with him.

They grew close quickly, and soon enough Y/n couldn’t remember what her life had been like before him. There was no one Y/n preferred to discuss foreign policy with than Lafayette, and there was no one Lafayette would rather annoy than Y/n. At one point, Lafayette took Y/n to one of his mother’s rallies, and Y/n spent more time than necessary explaining to Lafayette’s mom how big a fan she was. Lafayette nearly had to drag her away so that actual constituents could talk to his mom.

But most days it was more casual stuff. Sometimes Lafayette would sit on Y/n’s phone and take a ridiculous amount of selfies on her phone while she worked on homework. Other times they would take spontaneous trips to the grocery store at night to pick up ingredients for fried rice. Every Tuesday, Lafayette and Y/n’s roommate, Molly, would listen to Y/n rant about wage gaps between different demographics in America after her Economics class. And sometimes they would make fun of cheesy romcoms together.

“I don’t understand your obsession with Nora Ephron, Y/n,” Lafayette complained, although he was dutifully pouring extra butter onto their popcorn for the movie.

“She only directed the best romantic comedies ever!” Y/n defended.

“But why is Meg Ryan in all of her movies?”

“Because Meg Ryan is the best!”

“I still don’t understand the appeal of this movie. So a kid calls a radio show and Meg Ryan falls in love with him?” Lafayette asked.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “No, Meg Ryan falls in love with the dad! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But she’s never actually met the dad?”

“...well, no.”

“I don’t understand Americans.”

“You just need to watch it!”

Seeing that he wasn’t making any headway with Y/n, Lafayette sighed and resigned to his position on the couch. Grabbing a blanket, Y/n happily settled down on the couch beside Lafayette and started the movie. Every now and then Lafayette would scoff at some cheesy line or make some comment and Y/n would be quick to shush him. Eventually all the popcorn had been eaten and the end credits began to roll.

“So what did you think?” Y/n asked eagerly.

Lafayette shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can’t get over the fact that she just left her fiancé like that.”

She rolled her eyes.

Months ago, Y/n never would have imagined she’d be invited to an election watch party for Jolie de la Rivière, but now she wasn’t so surprised. De la Rivière’s campaign had rented out an upscale restaurant that was packed to its max occupancy. Lafayette’s mother spent most of the evening schmoozing her voters and speaking with interviewers, allowing for Y/n and Lafayette to sit by the bar and mess around.

“Okay, okay, be serious this time. Don’t smile.”

“I won’t! I promise I won’t,” Y/n said.

“We’ll see. On the count of three... one... two...”

“Wait! I’m not ready!” Y/n couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, a smile spreading across her face.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “I do not know what to do with you.”

“I can be serious.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I can! Just watch.” She looked away and focused on making her expression resolute and steely. Y/n slowly looked up to meet Lafayette’s eyes and they stared at each other for a few seconds with straight faces. Then Lafayette had the gall to arch one of his eyebrows and Y/n broke once again.

“That’s not fair. I was doing perfectly fine before you cheated!” Y/n complained.

“It’s not my fault that you can’t keep a straight face, Y/n.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink. “I can’t blame you. I’m so devilishly good looking, most women can’t keep it together around me.”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to roll her eyes. “I can assure you that’s not the problem here. Maybe I keep laughing because you’re so funny looking.”

“Haha. You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

When she didn’t respond, Lafayette tried again. “Y/n?”

“Lafayette, look.” She pointed to a TV hung over the bar.

A reporter on the screen was announcing that De la Rivière had won a landslide election. Then the screen cut to another reporter who was at the restaurant interviewing De la Rivière in person. Y/n and Lafayette’s eyes traveled across the room to see his mother talking to the reporter. The same scene playing on the TV overhead.

“Did that really just happen?”

Lafayette’s mom had been ahead in the polls for months now, and everyone expected her to win the election. But now she really had won. Lafayette was the President-elect’s son. Both Y/n and Lafayette knew this was probably going to happen, but now that it had, neither of them really knew what to do.

Everything after that was a blur. They celebrated that night, having a few more drinks. Enough alcohol to have a good time, but not enough to get totally drunk in an effort not to embarrass Lafayette’s mom on her big night. After that, Y/n didn’t see Lafayette for a while. He was busy getting prepped by his mom’s staff to be the perfect son and getting assigned a new security detail.

Y/n didn’t mind all that much. Sure, she missed him, but now that he was gone, she could spend more time actually working on her school work and getting more sleep. How had she gotten anything done when he was around? It was during the month when Lafayette and Y/n didn’t see each other at all that Molly slapped a magazine down on the table where Y/n was eating breakfast.

“What’s this?” Y/n asked, picking up the glossy magazine.

“Apparently Lafayette is France’s most eligible bachelor,” Molly informed her.

Y/n scoffed and looked over the cover of the magazine. Lafayette was casually leaning against a wall in the photo wearing a fitted suit and a colorful bowtie. He had a casual grin on his face, and his facial hair was trimmed neatly.

“Has Lafayette always been this hot?” Y/n muttered.

Molly gave her a look. “Yes. Yes, he has.”

“He might be a bachelor, but I don’t know if I would call him eligible.”

“What’s wrong with Lafayette?” Molly took the magazine from Y/n and flipped to the fluff piece written about him. “He’s handsome, and charismatic, and intelligent. I would date him.”

Y/n watched her roommate admire the photos of Lafayette and realized this wasn’t the first time Molly had considered the thought. How many times had Y/n watched Molly laugh at something Lafayette said that wasn’t even funny?

A buzz came from Y/n’s phone and she welcomed the distraction from her thoughts. Of course the text just had to be from Lafayette. She hadn’t seen him in forever, and he just happened to next her now? Yes, because it’s going to move the plot along.

Paint the town red w/ me tonight? The text read. Bring some friends and we’ll make it a party.

She shot back a text asking him if he was even allowed to hangout with commoners now that his mom was the president. He sent back a sarcastic haha and assured her he had it all worked out.

Molly was a little too excited when Y/n asked her to come hangout with Lafayette, but what did Y/n care? If Molly liked Lafayette, Y/n didn’t care. Why should she care if her roommate wanted to date her best friend? She did her best to stop thinking about it. Molly let her borrow a dress that was shorter than Y/n was comfortable with and they headed out with a few of their friends to meet at a bar Lafayette had texted them about.

He was thirty minutes late, and Y/n would’ve been annoyed she hadn’t expected it from him. He fed everyone some charming story about having to ditch his security detail. Y/n wanted to point out to him how irresponsible he was being, but honestly, she was just glad to see him again. When he was done enchanting their friends with his stories of his grandiose lifestyle, everyone returned to their drinks and Lafayette finally had the chance to sidle up to Y/n and sling an Armani-clad arm around her shoulders.

“Been a while, stranger?” He gave her an impish grin.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Lafayette’s eyebrows shot up and he pouted. “Aw, chérie, you know I couldn’t help it. I’ve been busy, it hasn’t been easy, this last month.”

“Right. ‘Cause living in a literal palace must be so difficult.”

“I forgot how sarcastic you can be.”

She shrugged and gave him a self-satisfied smile.

“Maybe you’ll be nicer after a few drinks,” he suggested.

“...it wouldn’t hurt.”

His smile was wide and she had forgotten how much she had missed it. Lafayette leaned forward and ordered a round of drinks, and just like that, it was like they hadn’t been apart at all. Their friendship was easy like that.

After two drinks, Y/n was laughing louder than anyone in the bar. Lafayette urged her to quiet down, but by the way wrinkles formed by his eyes and he laughed along quietly, they both knew he wasn’t serious about it at all. It was after they had started taking shots that they decided they were too hot to stay indoors. The night was young, and Lafayette had already hatched a plan in his mind.

“Let’s go to a park,” he announced to their small group.

There was a chorus of enthusiastic agreement. Y/n, more than a few drinks in, was still hesitant.

“Everything is probably closed at this time. Don’t you think you should be getting home?” She asked.

“C’mon, Y/n,” Molly chimed in, “it’ll be fun. There’s no harm to it.”

Y/n wanted to argue that there very well could be harm to it, but Lafayette was too fast.

“Molly’s right. Besides, I don’t know when I’ll get a night of freedom again. Better make the most of it, oui?”

Lafayette must’ve earned his magnetism from his constant exposure to politicians. He would make a great politician if he ever decided to apply himself, Y/n thought. It wasn’t the first time she had thought this.

Everyone listened to him almost like they were hypnotized, and before she knew it, they were standing outside a small park. A small closed park. Y/n knew she shouldn’t be committing a crime with the French president’s son, but the group had a mob mentality now. Anyway, Lafayette had his mind set on breaking into the park now. There was nothing anyone could’ve one to change his mind at this point.

Y/n still felt she had to try. “It’s closed. Everyone should just go home.”

“Nonsense,” Lafayette said.

“What’s your plan? Hop the fence?”

“Why not?” Molly asked. “It’s not that high.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Y/n responded.

But seeing the look on Lafayette’s face, she could tell he didn’t share her opinion on fence hopping. She watched him give a curious look to Molly. A look she recognized. There was always a twinkle in his eye when he was about to do something stupid to impress a girl. Y/n sighed, threw her hands up in defeat, and let him make his idiotic decisions.

And idiotic they were. Enough alcohol will give you the mindless bravery needed to attempt to jump a fence to impress a girl. That’s how Lafayette broke his arm.

Dealing with drunk, twenty-something-year-old French boys seemed like a walk in the park compared to dealing with the morons that, by some miracle, had been elected to the United States Congress. Y/n didn’t consider herself to be one of those moronic representatives, but she was sure some members of the Republican party had some choice words they used to describe her.

“We have a system that is fundamentally broken,” Y/n spoke into the microphone in front of her. Today she was asking questions at a hearing concerning campaign finance laws. Tomorrow it would be working on passing a bipartisan bill or going to some fundraiser for her reelection campaign.

“So would you say that Congress is held to the same rate of accountability as the president, the executive branch? Are there more regulations for Senators and Congressman, in regards to campaign financing than the president? Or less, Mr. Conway?” She asked.

The man in question, Mr. Conway, shifted uncomfortably in his seat before responding to the question, “there are almost no laws at all that apply to the president.”

Y/n was satisfied with his answer, but still she pressed on. “Are you saying that I, and every member of congress, are being held to a higher standard than the president of the United States?”

“...yes.”

“Thank you.”

The hearing wrapped up with all the formalities, and Y/n gathered up all her notes. She made her way from the committee hearing room to her office, knowing that her campaign manager and second-in-command, Nathan Hale, would be ready to tell her what else she had on the schedule for today. She found him sitting on the visitor’s side of her desk, his feet propped up on a chair.

“You did great in there,” he said casually.

She raised an eyebrow as she dropped all her notes from the hearing on her desk and sunk down into the seat. “You stayed and listened?”

“For most of it. I had to leave early,” he admitted. “There were some... issues I had to look at.”

“Issues?”

“Secretary Jefferson tweeted about you. You’re going to want to see it.”

Y/n groaned outwardly. “No, Nathan, I don’t think I will.”

“You’re probably right, but you should be informed nonetheless.” He handed her her phone, already opened to Jefferson’s tweet. It was nothing she hadn’t seen or heard before. Just another politician attacking her character and claiming she was a talentless kid who didn’t belong in politics.

She furrowed her brows as she quickly typed out a response to his tweet. That’s interesting, coming from a man whose entire career was built off his daddy’s money.

“What do you think?” She handed the phone to Nathan to read over her tweet. “Too harsh? Not harsh enough?”

He laughed. “It’s perfect. Anddddd... send tweet. Did we just enter into a twitter war with the former Secretary of State and the Republican presidential nominee? This feels like middle school drama, not running a country.”

Y/n only shrugged. “All I have to say,” Y/n muttered as she attempted to organize the clutter on her desk, “is that politics is nothing like The West Wing.”

“No?”

“No. Nathan, what do we have scheduled today?” She asked.

“An interview with The Times later, but I’ve lined up some meetings with a few of your largest donors.”

“That’s my least favorite part of the job. Who am I meeting with?” Y/n set aside her organizing and leaned forward on her elbows.

Nathan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and read off a few names from his clipboard. “We’ve got Mercy Otis Warren at two. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph for lunch—”

“Oh, I can’t stand them.”

“—and a Mr. de Lafayette in an hour.”

Y/n’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline and she was convinced she had heard him wrong. “Who was that last one?”

“Mr. de Lafayette, the French president’s son,” Nathan explained.

“Since when has he been a donor to my campaign?” Y/n frowned.

“He reached out a few months ago. I thought it was strange that a foreign leader’s kid wanted to donate to a U.S. representative’s campaign, but I wasn’t about to stop him.”

“I don’t want his donations,” Y/n said.

This caught Nathan’s attention. “Y/n, he made a very sizable donation to your reelection campaign.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want his money.”

“It’s too late. We’ve already spent the money on buttons and whatnot.”

“Nathan, no!” Y/n groaned. “And you said I’m supposed to meet with him today?”

“Yes, in an hour. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Y/n pursed her lips and finally admitted, “We used to be best friends.”

“And you don’t want to see him because...?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well regardless of the length of the story,” Nathan said, “we can’t cancel on him. We need every donation we can get since you refuse to accept money from any PACs.”

“That’s because it’s the right thing to do,” Y/n pointed out.

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make my job any easier. You’re not getting out of this meeting, Y/n. You should start mentally preparing yourself now.”

It had been eight years since she had last seen Lafayette. Eight years. And yet, she wasn’t exactly in a rush to see him again. They hadn’t exactly left things on great terms. Now he was making sizable donations to her campaign? None of this made any sense to Y/n.

An hour passed too quickly for Y/n’s liking. Nathan had arranged for a photo op between Y/n and Lafayette in the lobby of the hotel Lafayette was staying at. After all, the endorsement of a foreign dignitary would be good for her campaign, it would probably make the front page of local newspapers. On the ride over to the hotel, Y/n rehearsed how the meeting would go in her head.

She’d walk into the lobby and greet Lafayette politely. The photographers would capture a few pictures of them smiling amicably and shaking hands. Y/n would thank him for his support and his donations, inquire on the wellbeing of his mother, and then Nathan would pull her out and tell everyone she had another meeting she had to be at. Y/n would apologize, thank Lafayette again, and then they would part ways. And if she never saw him again after this, that would be fine.

Maybe she should have let Nathan in on her plans, because he had different ideas of how this meeting would go down.

“The Randolphs had to cancel on us, but I’ve pencilled them in for next weekend. That means we can take more time talking with Mr. de Lafayette,” he told her.

“What? But I don’t want to spend more time talking with him. I just--”

“We can discuss it later,” Nathan cut her off and pushed her into the hotel lobby where half a dozen photographers and journalists were already waiting. The cameras began to flash.

“We have a lot to discuss later,” Y/n smiled for the cameras, but Nathan was the only one able to hear the poison underneath her words. She meant them. But chewing Nathan out was for later, right now she had an ex-best friend and current campaign donator to deal with.

Standing to the side of the lobby was Lafayette. He was wearing gray slacks and formal shoes, but he had opted to ditch the suit jacket and wore his white button down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his rather muscular fore arms. He grinned when he saw Y/n headed his way, and all of a sudden it was like she was a college student again. Memories of her year in Paris came back to her. Drinks at a local bar, watching romcoms together, attending rallies for his mom.

But bad memories returned to her as well, and they seemed to out weigh all the good ones she could remember. She had to focus not to let her smile falter in case a photographer took a photo of her looking anything less than happy to be seeing Lafayette. Journalists always had a way of spinning things.

“Congresswoman L/n, I am so glad you could make it,” Lafayette said. There may have been some things Y/n had forgotten from her year abroad, but the sound of his voice wasn’t one of those things.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Y/n lied through her smile. “How was your flight?” She stepped forward and offered her hand for him to shake. Cameras flashed.

“Pleasant enough, I suppose.” He gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake. More cameras clicked. “It’s good to see you again. What has it been, eight years?”

They turned to face the cameras, letting the photographers take pictures of the smiling side-by-side.

“Must be. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” She was doing her best to be professional.

He placed a hand on her back that could easily pass as just a friendly gesture between two professionals, but Y/n knew him better than that. Lafayette kept smiling, but he lowered his voice so only she could hear him.

“I’ve tried getting in contact with you so many times, Y/n. We used to be best friends, remember? Although now you seem to be doing fine for yourself.”

Y/n continued smiling, but she spared Lafayette an uneasy glance. “I am doing fine, aren’t I?”

“I just don’t understand why the only way I can get you to talk to me is to make large donations to your campaign and schedule meetings with your campaign manager,” he said quietly. “What happened to us?”

“Lafayette, this isn’t the time or place to address that issue,” she said with perfectly masked annoyance. Y/n smiled for a couple more photos, then the journalists seemed to have gotten enough content of the two of them. “Besides, I think we both know perfectly well what happened.”

The end of Y/n’s year abroad came quicker than she had anticipated. Paris had been fun, but if she was being honest, she was ready to return home. Molly and Lafayette had begun dating shortly after that night when he jumped the fence and broke his arm to impress her. After that, Y/n couldn’t help but feel like a third-wheel around the two of them.

It wasn’t easy. Lafayette was still her best friend and she couldn’t avoid him as much as she wanted to without him asking questions. Since Lafayette decided to date Molly, and since Molly was Y/n’s roommate, seeing them around together was nearly unavoidable.

Y/n had reached the end of her year abroad now, so... that was good? Molly had already left for the states a week and a half ago due to a family emergency or something. Y/n wasn’t completely sure, she had gotten good at tuning Molly out when she was talking about how great a boyfriend Lafayette was, that she must’ve started tuning out everything Molly said.

With Molly gone, Y/n was left alone in an apartment and with her thoughts. She didn’t see Lafayette as much, as he really only came over to the apartment to visit Molly these days. Now that she was left with nothing to do except pack and think, she was finally hit with the unsettling reality that the real reason she didn’t like being around Molly and Lafayette when they were together wasn’t because they made her feel like a third wheel.

She shoved those thoughts deep down her throat, worried what might become of her if she let herself dwell on them too much. When ignoring the thoughts didn’t work as well as she had hoped it would, she turned to an alternative medicine. The bar was an antidote for anything and everything.

That’s where Lafayette found Y/n. Drinking by herself on a weeknight.

“What are you doing here? I’m supposed to be the drunk one that you find and drag home.”

She looked at him lazily over her third glass of wine. “One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters. But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.”

“We’re quoting poetry, now?” He sighed. “You are more drunk than I thought.”

“I thought you would like it. Charles Baudelaire. He’s French. He said to get drunk, and wine tastes better than virtue.”

Lafayette took her glass of wine and drained it. Partially to prevent Y/n from drinking anymore, partially because he needed it. He looked at his best friend who was watching him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“What?” He asked.

“What,” she repeated, in a daze.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay. You’re the one getting drunk alone.”

She grinned sloppily. “I’m not alone. You’re here. And you’re getting drunk with me.”

Lafayette appraised Y/n for a moment. She was watching him so earnestly, her eyes bright and lively from the alcohol. He had to look away. Eventually he gave in and ordered another glass of wine for himself. Then, halfway through that glass, his lips loosened.

“Molly broke up with me.”

For a second, Lafayette could have sworn he saw a smile on Y/n’s face. But he must have imagined it, because when he looked again, she was giving him a pitiful look.

“She did? I’m so, so sorry. Did she say why?”

“No, but I think I know.”

“Care to share?”

He shook his head and took a long sip from his glass. “Not particularly. You care to share why you’re getting drunk alone in the middle of the week?”

“Not particularly.” She repeated his words and attempted a wink.

Then the two of them fell into a contemplative silence. There was no doubt that they were extremely close friends. But that didn’t mean they told each other everything, it just meant that they always knew how the other was feeling, even if they didn’t know why.

“We’ve got so much wasted potential, don’t we?” Lafayette finally said.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Wasted? I may be wasted tonight, but I’ll pull it together tomorrow.”

He groaned and hid his smile, not wanting her to know that he actually found her amusing. “Shut up, Y/n. You know what I mean.”

“Maybe you’re wasted potential. You could be a president or a CEO, but instead you’re drinking with your best friend at 10:48 p.m.,” she pointed out. “But I’ve got it all figured out. Tomorrow, I’ll pull myself together from this feeling-sorry-for-myself night. And when I go back to America, I’ll pull my life together again.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Tonight is a microcosm of my time here in Paris. Paris was just a drunk mistake. A really fun, really delicious mistake. When I return to the U.S., it’ll be my Paris hang over. I’ll deal with the consequences, be miserable for a little while, but then I’ll be great. Maybe be president or meet a penguin, whichever is easier.”

“I hope Paris wasn’t all mistakes.”

“It was.”

It should have hurt more to hear her say that. They were both a few glasses in at this point and felt invincible. Everything would hurt a lot more in the morning, but they felt so good then. Lafayette spared another glance at Y/n. This was his best friend, the only girl he really cared about. The girl he had promised himself he wouldn’t ruin things with. But one look at her lips made him lose any inhibition he had left.

He stared a second too long. Y/n noticed his eyes on her lips, and as if she knew what he was thinking, her lips were pulled up into a troublesome smile. A voice in the back of Y/n’s head warned her that she could ruin their friendship if she didn’t stop, but then again, she had never wanted to be his friend. Never.

“Come home with me?” She knew what his answer would be before she had even asked the question.

His response should’ve been “I don’t think that’s a good idea” or “we’re both drunk, we should both go to our own homes.” Or anything else. Anything else would’ve been better than his easy grin, his warm hand in hers as they exited the bar, and his sharp whistle as he hailed a taxi.

She could count this, right?

Lafayette had never told her he loved her. As a friend, at the very least, Y/n was convinced that he loved her. She had watched Lafayette express his affections and love for so many women before her. Y/n would be lying if she said that she didn’t die a little bit every time she saw him with someone else. She had watched him say “I love you” to almost everyone but herself.

In the back of the cab, flooded with orange light from the street, Lafayette’s hands felt warm on her body. He tasted like cheap wine even though Y/n knew he could afford something more expensive. He tasted like smoke as well, even though Y/n told him often how bad cigarettes were. The way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, it said “I love you.” Didn’t it?

I can count this, she decided with his lips pressed against her neck.

He only took his lips off her to quickly pay the cab driver, and even then he kept one hand on her thigh. Walking up a narrow flight of stairs is harder when you’re drunk and don’t want to let go of another person, but Lafayette and Y/n managed to do it. They stumbled into her apartment, not bothering to turn on any lights.

The next morning Y/n’s apartment would look like a crime scene; furniture out of place, clothes littering the floor, but she didn’t care at the moment. Any consequences for tonight’s actions would be her problem tomorrow. Tonight, all she could think about was the way he pushed her up against the wall and left bruises on her shoulders with his mouth.

By the time they made it to her bedroom, she had managed to remove all his clothes and he was taking off her panties with two fingers. Lafayette whispered something sweet in her ear, but Y/n really wasn’t listening at this point. He wrapped an arm around her waist and laid her back on the bed, placing a desperate kiss on her lips. Something in her knew that he wasn’t kissing her because he felt something, but because he wanted to feel something. Did it work?

Y/n would not know all the details of what happened the next day. All she would remember was the feel of his skin against hers, the taste of him on her tongue, and feeling more alive than she had ever felt before.

Drunken mistakes were something Lafayette was used to. Y/n had her fair share of drunken mistakes as well. Nothing compared to the moment Lafayette woke up next to Y/n in her bed with a terrible headache from the night before. He could feel nothing but dread and it was beginning to eat him alive.

“Mon dieu, what have I done?” The fact that he had really fucked up this time hit him like a train.

“I know,” Y/n replied. She didn’t share his same level of concern. “How much did we drink last night?”

“I need to go.”

Before she knew it, Lafayette was out of bed and pulling on articles of his clothing that were strewn across the room. Y/n was perplexed by his urgency and propped herself up on her elbows.

“Lafayette, relax. We were drunk, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand.”

“This shouldn’t have happened. I never wanted this to happen.”

Y/n didn’t even mask her pain, but Lafayette wouldn’t even look at her. Still, she tried to reassure him. “You hook-up with girls all the time. This isn’t that much different.”

“No, it is,” he said firmly. “You’re not just another girl, Y/n. We’re friends. I never wanted this to happen between us.”

Just like that, Y/n felt her heart plummet in her chest. Did he really regret sleeping with her that much? He couldn’t even fathom the idea of them together without panicking? Y/n’s mouth hung open but no words came out. What would you even say in a situation like this?

“I need to leave now.” He still couldn’t look her in the eye. Lafayette left her apartment without so much as another word to her.

That’s how Lafayette broke her heart.

Tag list: @fanfic-addict-98 @wordvomit-foryourmind @farihafangirls @actuallyanita @cubedtriangle @katierpblogg @ballerinafairyprincess @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#marquis de Lafayette #alexander hamilton #hamilton #lafayette #lafayette x reader #lafayette imagine #lafayette x reader angst #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson x reader #hamilton imagine #Daveed Diggs #daveed diggs x reader #modern!au #foreign affairs

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petewentzisblack1312 · 3 years

Note

if i ever get money im sending u flight and ticket money i s2g we gotta get u to a fob show

i appreciate that v much lmao. cw for mental health stuff i guess?

the funny thing is i actually got really close, ive mentioned this before but when the mania tour was announced a friend of mine tried to wire money for a concert ticket but it didnt go through for some reason but THEN my mom decided to buy me the ticket anyway even though she couldnt really afford it because my dad promised to send me up to new york to see it, but he kept like, changing the terms and conditions?

like first he said hed go with me then he said he was too busy so i said id go alone then he suddenly decided he didnt want me going alone so i asked if hed send my sister with me and it was weird but i didnt really realise it bc i was so excited, but then a couple weeks out from when we were supposed to go, he just told me he changed his mind and he didnt think i could handle it and that he wouldnt be paying for my flight, but id gotten vip so i couldnt resell the ticket, so i just had to sit and watch all the pictures from what wouldve been my date from saint lucia. and then i got hit by a van.

i feel really stupid for how upset i am about it because like, its a luxury. i live on a caribbean island, sometimes we dont have running water or power, sometimes my family doesnt really have food to eat, sometimes theres a hurricane or an earthquake or both that takes us years, maybe a decade to recover from, and here i am being hung up on not getting to go see a band in america. like even having that opportunity was extremely privileged and i really feel conceited and entitled to be upset about it. its expensive to leave the caribbean and i know that and like, my dads really well off, he has a lexus and remodelled his house while he was supposed to be paying for me to eat, but like its not like its required for me to live or anything. i dont have the luxury of wanting luxuries but im still genuinely deeply upset about this. a different friend offered to buy me a ticket for the hella mega tour but they were sold out bc the connection at my schools really shitty and tickets never go on sale at like a convenient time.

the fact is they are never going to play in the caribbean, save for that one time they played in puerto rico, which is still america and still requires a visa and tickets are still more expensive for me. going to a show requires a round trip out of the caribbean and finding a place to stay and actually buying a ticket, all of which is priced in a currency with way more buying power than the eastern caribbean dollar has. maybe if i actually get out of saint lucia and go to school and start my life but every time i have a mental breakdown because i feel stuck i get even MORE stuck because no one thinks i can handle being on my own without supervision no matter how much i say i am losing my mind because other people are micromanaging my life.

sorry. this is a lot. i love my home but this is a small town you need an expensive plane ticket to leave and im just watching it die and be exploited and i just kinda have to live with the fact that when or frankly if i ever leave ill never be able to afford coming back home and all of that is just kind of represented by the fact that i dont think ill ever be able to afford seeing fall out boy live even if i did live in a place where there are shows and even if i could itd be between seeing them live or seeing my family and home in person.

#dils declares #dils is depressed #i hate it here.

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peekbackstage · 4 years

Note

Heya Peek! You wrote in one of your replies that it is difficult for asian artist let alone a Chinese artist to hold a tour overseas. Can you expand a bit on that? Also adding onto to this, I understand that if we were to compare it with kpop, the western reception is quite different towards cpop/c-artist. Though has there been any c-artist who have achieve the feat of a proper world tour overseas?

Disclaimer: This post is informed by my experience in music. All of this is fact, not speculation.

Hi! You always ask such great questions!

Let’s talk a bit about touring!

For many artists around the world, touring is often the #1 income generating activity for an artist (unless they have a ton of really high-valued endorsements). Though it is exhausting, it is also very rewarding, as artists get to interact with their fans in a controlled environment and reap the rewards. It is is also a necessary part of the music ecosystem, as many tours tend to support album releases, which generate more sales.

Many artists in Japan and China actually have very successful careers in their local markets and never have to even leave their home country to tour, because the size of their local markets are really just that huge. Artists from Taiwan, Singapore, and South Korea, however, do have to go outside their immediate local market to maximize their earning potential because their local market isn’t big enough. This is why Kpop is actually South Korea’s #1 export and contributor of South Korea’s GDP.

For artists who don’t technically have to leave their country to tour, leaving comes with the risk of losing out on local opportunities and higher earning potential, especially if the overseas tour doesn’t come with the same dollar value as local tours. This is easily the very first hurdle all Asian artists have to overcome: passing up on local opportunities for the chance of developing a career abroad.

The second hurdle that artists have to face is finding someone who will pay for the tour. The misconception that many people have about touring is that record labels or management companies are the ones who organize the tours and pay for them. This is completely incorrect. Instead, concert promoters are the ones who fund, organize, and produce tours.

You see, all venues are owned and operated by a concert promoter. A huge majority of venues in the United States, for example, are owned by Live Nation or AEG. There are a number that are owned independently, but there’s no question that Live Nation and AEG are the biggest power players in the game. So in order to put on a concert, you have to deal with the venue owner, which is always going to be a concert promoter. (Or a Chinese casino.)

The reality is: without a concert promoter such as Live Nation or AEG or an independent promoter (or multiple local promoters) to help pay for a tour, major tours just never happen in today’s live music industry.

The problem with relying on local concert promoters is that most of the time, local promoters are only willing to shell out money and take a risk on artists that have a track record. Often, they’ll turn to resources such as Pollstar Pro, which track ticket sales, box office revenue, etc. for live events per artist. Unfortunately, many Asian artists actually aren’t registered in the Pollstar system, and so this information is usually inconclusive. As a result, talent buyers for local promoters who are unfamiliar with Asian artists would need to rely on a few things:

Their own research on the artist to determine the artist’s market size, especially if this is an international artist who has never performed locally before

Their trust in the agent/individual who pitched the artist. The trust placed in the agent is actually a huge factor, especially if the agent has historically been able to demonstrate a solid track record of strong box offices.

If the Asian artist in question doesn’t have local representation via an agent or someone else who can pitch them to a buyer, then that means the only way they would be able to tour would be if there is an independent Asian promoter or talent buyer who knows who the artist is and is willing to take a risk. (The alternative would be for the Asian promoter to act as an intermediary agent, but that is literally another post in and of itself and is more complicated so I’m going to not focus on that for now.)

So, let’s assume there is an independent Asian promoter who wants to take a risk on an artist who has never toured internationally before. Let’s further assume the Asian promoter already has all the money available to pay for this tour. They know who the artist is, sees that the artist is trending locally in their market, and believes that the artist can stage a successful tour.

First, the promoter has to contact the artist’s management company and ensure that the artist has availability for the time period in which they want to tour. They also have to convince the management company to even be willing to consider the offer. At that point, they have to request the artist’s technical and hospitality rider from the management company so they can actually price it out.

Then, the promoter has to route the tour by securing venue availabilities. This is actually a lot harder if the promoter is funding the tour 100% independently because venues are unwilling to place “holds” on any dates for too long if the show is a rental and not one that involves their own talent buyer. So, the promoter has to act very quickly to secure a number of dates.

Once the tour is routed, the promoter then has to send a lucrative enough offer to the company that will make the company feel it’s worth the local opportunity cost - and it cannot be a small amount or one or two dates, unless those two dates come with such a huge price tag that the management company simply can’t turn it down. The offer also has to have an entire list of cities, venues, venue sizes, and dates. This is usually delivered in the form of a deal memo to the management company.

Deal memos for most Asian artists also always include the following:

Artist guarantee per show

Hospitality clause that includes 5 star hotels, international travel for X amount of individuals, including business/first class flights for artist (and potentially the artist’s security and manager), and luxury SUVs or comparable vehicles for internal transportation

Per diem for X amount of people, including artist

Cost of visas

Attached tech and hospitality rider provided by artist management

Requirements for artist (i.e. XX minutes of performance, any meet and greets, any PR etc.)

Now, at this point, if the management company agrees to the terms of the deal memo, they then turn this into a contract which is signed. Once the contract is signed, the promoter is responsible for paying the artist at least 50% of their guarantee as a deposit. They then need to begin working on securing the artist’s visa. This is actually the hard part, especially if the artist previously has never performed in the country.

So, if we are talking about the United States as an example, as it is the biggest market in the West for Asian artists, the artist has to obtain either an O-visa or an H1-B visa. This usually requires a visa attorney who specializes in international artists who will actually get a letter from a Senator to recommend the artist for a visa. The artist then has to go to their embassy for an interview and their embassy side has to also approve it - especially if it’s a Chinese artist, so that sometimes requires lawyers on the artist’s side. If the visa doesn’t go through and is denied, and if appeals don’t manage to go through in time, then the tour is dead on its feet. So, a visa is really important!

While this is happening, the promoter has to also work on obtaining a CWA (central withholding agreement) to avoid having to withhold 30% of income that would otherwise go straight to the IRS. If they do not succeed in obtaining a CWA that they can present to the venue, the venue will be required to withhold 30% of all box office proceeds at settlement. (Yeah, I know that’s kind of insane, but it’s technically the law.) This 30% would ultimately impact the promoter’s bottom line, and potentially the artist’s, depending on the kind of contract that is negotiated. (If the artist is made responsible for tax withholding, then the artist’s income will be hit negatively if the promoter is unable to or fails to obtain a CWA.)

I can go into far more detail about all the promoter’s responsibilities from this point on, but you asked why it’s difficult for an artist to hold a tour overseas - and as you can see, even before we get into the actual technical production part planning for the tour, it’s already extremely complicated. Many Asian management companies simply do not want to deal with that kind of complication when they already know how things work from home and it’s a relatively “easy” paycheck.

Touring overseas usually comes with a big cultural shock for the artist. Many Asian artists don’t enjoy the same level of fame abroad as they do at home, which means, they often don’t get the same level of care that they do at home. What their team can afford for them locally is not necessarily what the local promoter can afford abroad. Some artists who normally are used to a 5-star experience everywhere may sometimes have to settle for less and be comfortable with the idea of scaling down production, which not all artists are willing to do. (Scaling down on production is usually the #1 most contentious area of negotiation between promoters and management companies. The second thing that they tend to fight on is usually the hospitality rider, but that’s not often as bad as negotiating tech riders.)

Sometimes, the tech rider issue is such a huge problem that the artist will blow their tech budget entirely out of the water - especially artists and management teams who have massive egos and have a lot of trouble understanding they really are not as big of a deal as they are overseas.

I can think of a particular Asian artist who performed internationally in the United States and insisted on actually shipping their entire stage that they toured with in their country to the U.S. Instead of renting locally, which would have saved a huge amount of money, they shipped the entire stage and all of the equipment. They also decided to fly out over 100 people, 30+ of whom flew first or business class with an average price of about $3000/per ticket.

The promoter did such a bad job actually marketing the show that they were literally giving away tickets and even paying people to fill seats because of just how bad it looked to have an empty venue.

It was a complete disaster.

In any case, there are a lot more reasons why touring abroad is difficult for Asian artists, but as you can see, getting a tour off the ground itself is already insanely difficult - and we haven’t even gotten to the actual performance itself.

As for your other question - I’ll have to ask that you actually submit that in a separate ask because this particular blog post has already gotten so long, and I think that is another conversation entirely!

I hope I’ve helped to shed some light on some of the many difficulties that come with trying to stage an international tour for an Asian artist!

#touring #live performances #international touring #music industry #thislostcastaway #ask #peek answers

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meechibell · 3 years

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Build Your Own Sims 4 EP Challenge

Uptown World Expansion Pack

*My entry for #BuildYourOwnEPChall by #SimsBogdy99

The 3 models I made are wearing all black salon uniforms. Dressing in all black takes the focus off of the stylists and puts it onto the clients where it should be. All of their other outfits are made with their favorite colors in mind and are heavily themed with a 1980's vibe because I'm kind of stuck in that era because the music, fashion, and hair were so cool... still cool. So on with the pack...

Welcome to Rockin Key, the home of some of the world's greatest musicians! Rockin Key is where the rich & famous go to play, and the locals that keep it going play here too. Located 5 miles West of Del Sol Valley, it's easy to find... follow the endless sounds of great live music across the 5 mile bridge to Rockin Key... the city that never sleeps. Rockin Key entertainment venues are open 24/7.

On Rockin Key you'll find many new venues & plenty of room to build with 15 new lots to build homes/businesses! Including new lot types such as hair salons, Day Care Centers, houseboats, indoor concert halls, and movie theaters.

Rockin Key (new) Venues Include: -Santiago's Hair Salon - Sims can now visit Hair Stylists, Nail Techs, & Estheticians for a variety of services. Don & Jori and their team are here to help you be the best looking version of yourself. Remember, it's all about the hair!

-Rockin Key's Slice of Paradise Concert Theater - This is the largest new venue. This is where the biggest names in the sim music industry come to perform. It's always the hottest ticket in town.

-Rhapsody Twin Movie Theatre - Sims can now take their family, or a date, to the movies! The Plaza Twin Theatre has a full service concession stand, and the movie popcorn machine is always popping to make sure the popcorn is hot & fresh. To wash the popcorn down they also serve fountain sodas, and there's a variety of candy to choose from. In each theater for all sims' comfort, they'll find recliner chairs with built in soda & popcorn holders. It's stadium seating so no worries about someone's head being in a sim's line of view while enjoying their movie. And for the kiddies there are booster seats available.

-Sunny Sushi Bar - Indoor & outdoor dining w/ live music nightly by Toffee Butler (piano) or The Dunk-a-noos (steel drum band), located next to the marina. -Moody's Marina - Here sims can buy/own a luxury yacht w/ hot tub & full bar. Yachts can leave port and travel the area. Sims can fish off of a yacht or they can now charter a fishing boat.

-Lil' Sponges Daycare Academy - Sims can now drop off their children at this Nautical themed, state of the art Daycare Academy for ages infant - 5 years old. This isn't just a babysitting service; as an Academy it has licensed teachers to teach age appropriate lessons while keeping track of each child's growth and progress in their speech, fine motor skills, gross motor skills and social skills. By the time these little sponges are ready to move on to Kindergarten at 5 yrs old, many will be able to skip right into 1st grade.

NEW CAREERS

-Hair Stylist This career is for the sim that believes it's all about the hair. Once a customer has the right hairstyle, anything is possible! Hair Stylists can wash hair, cut hair, color/highlight hair, perm or straighten hair & blow dry hair. Top level Supreme Hair Stylists unlocks hair extensions that come in long, medium, short, & extra short (to add bangs/fringe to most hair styles already in the game) with each length also being in straight, wavy, curly, or braided styles, each available in all colors for both females and males, age teen-elder. Depending on the hairstylist's level will be the outcome of the hairstyle given, so sometimes with lower levels there may be mistakes and corrections needed that result in comedic reactions by sims/hairstylists.

*Supreme Hair Stylist Bonus: Becoming a CELEBRITY HAIR STYLIST: Once a sim reaches top level as a Supreme Hair Stylist, they will begin to gain notoriety and in time will reach "celebrity" hairstylist status. Once this is achieved they will start to receive celebrities/rockstars as clients, be asked to go on location to music video sets, and backstage at concerts, to work on musicians'/celebs' hair, and they'll hob-nob with the rich and famous. Also, a celebrity hair stylist can be Owner & Creative Director of a very successful hair salon w/ barely any problems. They'll even be given the opportunity to own a chain of hair salons if the first one is successful.

-Nail Technician/Artist

A career for sims that believe a person can't be their very best without well manicured hands and feet. Services provided, how well and how quickly done, depends on the level of Nail Tech/Artist. Lower levels may either take longer or make mistakes such as wrong nail color or spills water on the client. Once a higher level is reached the Nail Tech adds Artist to their repertoire and unlocks fun nail art & nail accessories. When a sim visits a Nail Artist the prices are higher, appointment is quicker, and you get to choose the color(s) of nail polish used on the sim, along with a paint design (flowers/hearts/holiday themes) and/or nail accessories such as glitter or rhinestones.

-Esthetician For the sim that sees other sims as walking Barbie & Ken dolls and helps them reach that status through ridding them of any and all body hair through artful waxing. Starting level can only provide facials, moustache waxing, & eyebrow waxing/shaping. They also provide skin treatments afterwards to sooth the red hot burning newly waxed fresh skin after peeling off a layer with the hot wax. Clients are taken to a private area (behind a curtain or door) for body waxing. Bikini waxing for female/male adult-elder is unlocked once an Esthetician reaches the top level as an Elite Esthetician.

(Note on how I see the Esthetician career as working in the game... Once an Esthetician reaches "elite" level they can start body waxing clients, so the nude sim laying on the table will have blurred privates, same as when they shower, but we'll know the spot the Esthetician is waxing as the sim will make some kind of horrible scream and/or face due to the wax being ripped off which makes for funny game play. You see it too, right?

-Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director This career is the ultimate goal for most Hair Stylists... a dream come true. This career is best suited for the sim who has achieved the top level as Supreme Hair Stylist because they know what they're doing, what the salon needs, and more importantly what their employees and clients need. Even with all of their experience and knowledge in the hair industry, they still hit bumps in the road and make mistakes. Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director may also work well for other salon employees after a sim reaches either the Finest Nail Artist level or the Elite Esthetician level. They will run into a few surprise bumps that the Supreme Hair Stylist knows how to avoid, but they have a better chance of success than a sim that has no salon experience. With that being said a sim without prior salon experience who can afford it, can be a Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director; however, that sim will have a much more difficult time in being the salon owner & creative director with more mishaps, unhappy employees, angry clients, and more stress than the Supreme Hair Stylist that becomes an owner & creative director. Their chance of failure with the salon closing down is 50% higher than that of a salon employee & 75% higher risk than that of a Supreme Hair Stylist. Top level for Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director opens up the opportunity for them to expand into a Hair Salon Chain Owner.

-Professional Contemporary Music Artist This career is for the sim that wants to be a Music Idol & Pop Culture Icon. Those that seek after a career as a professional contemporary music artist include sims that have dreamt about success as either a solo pop or hip-hop artist, or as a member of a rock band, or a member in a popular boy or girl band. Their journey begins when they begin to practice singing and/or playing instruments. As their skill increases, they'll gain notoriety performing in venues around town until finally a big music manager contacts them after hearing them perform in a local bar and offers them an audition. If the audition goes well, they'll then be offered a contract with choices such as music genre & solo artist or in a band to begin their musical career. Once the contract is signed, the sim will start receiving dates for live concert gigs that you will be able to follow and play sim through the onstage performances as well as the backstage after parties. At top level the sim will become known as a "King/Queen of Music" which will unlock many new items made for a rock/pop superstar including clothing, jewelry, big hairstyles, & other rockstar items themed after 1980's musical legends that are known for their music & iconic fashion styles such as George Michael (Wham!), Prince, Bon Jovi, Tina Turner, Cher, Run DMC, Heart, Janet Jackson, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince, Cyndi Lauper, & Boy George (Culture Club).

NEW ASPIRATION CATEGORY: TRADESMANSHIP

NEW ASPIRATIONS:

-Supreme Hair Stylist

-Finest Nail Artist

-Elite Esthetician -Hair Salon Chain Owner -King/Queen of Music

NEW TRAITS:

FINICKY - A sim with this trait is extremely hard to please & they change their minds often too. Finicky sims are the customers that businesses, hair stylists, & servers have nightmares about. They want things exactly like they want it, and if it's not to their preferences, they'll throw a hissy fit refusing to pay for services. At the hair salon they're the client that will ask for a certain hair style or nail style, and halfway through they'll change their mind or when finished burst out in tears saying they don't like it. If they place an order over the phone, or in a restaurant, there's a good chance by the time it arrives, they'll no longer want it causing them to pout, complain & refuse to pay for it. If they enjoy an activity one day, they may hate it the next. If they have a romantic interest, they may lose interest faster than other sims. They may even become the runaway bride or groom. Their likes & dislikes change often because they are FINICKY.

LEECH - A sim with this trait is outgoing, cheerful, & charming so making a new friend, or romantic connection, is easy for them & quicker than other sims, but once another sim befriends them they will become the center of the LEECH sim's world. A LEECH will only want to do things with that one friend or love interest, and they will expect the same from that friend or love interest. They want to do everything with ONLY that 1 person, and can show up at any time, & anywhere, uninvited to be with them. When not with their friend, they're calling them on the phone, even if they're at work. And if they see their 1 friend/love interest being friendly with anyone else, they will act out in sneaky jealous "accidental" actions towards the other sim who is "stealing" their friend's attention away from the LEECH, such as spilling a drink on them, or bumping into them hard enough to knock them out of the way, or causing them to trip, or pulling their chair out from under them. A LEECH will talk to anyone that will listen to them, and when they're really lonely they will visit their favorite hangouts to talk to the employees knowing as a customer they have to talk to them and be nice. The LEECH is often a Rockin Key business' nightmare client because they tend to hang around bothering the employees or other customers looking for attention. Some leeches even ask for free things like a drink. The LEECH doesn't have the same obsession with their family members, only with that 1 special friend/love interest which may be their spouse. With family members the LEECH is known for inviting themselves to dinner, or on outings (and of course leeches always forget their wallet no matter who they're with); however, when they make that 1 special friend or love interest their family is relieved because they get a break from the LEECH that will now come around much less often, if ever, while in the other relationship. Breaking off a relationship with the LEECH is not pretty either. They will throw huge fits no matter where or how the break up happens. And don't be surprised if the sim that broke it off now finds themselves being watched with a telescope or being followed when they go out as the LEECH has a very hard time letting go & may pop up at any time just to say "hi" w/ a creepy smile as they walk away. They also may find that their mail has been stolen when the electric is suddenly shut off due to non-payment since the LEECH out of anger stole their mail, though they're unable to prove it to the police.

WALLFLOWER- This sim is a romantic at heart, creative, super sweet & friendly, but has trouble approaching other sims, especially strangers because they're shy. They long to socialize with other sims & enjoy going out on the town to different venues/events hoping to make a friend, or meet that special someone; however, once they arrive, they will stay seated and will not approach sims becoming a WALLFLOWER while they wait for sims to approach them. Once they become friends with a sim, they're charming, super sweet, & a bit more chatty, but still more quiet & agreeable than most sims. Being shy they are the exact opposite of a leech as they will often pay for others, and wait for their friends, or family, to call them to make plans as they don't want to bother anyone. If a sim they care about takes too long to contact them they become gloomy or will sit at home & cry alone wondering why that sim doesn't like them. When it comes to business owners, the WALLFLOWER is a favorite customer/client as they're so sweet they're always happy/content with the service provided for them.

COUCH POTATO - They live to entertain themselves from a chair or a couch whether at home, a friend's house, or a night out. They tire much faster than other sims & have to sit down more often if out and about. One of their favorite things to do is sit and watch tv which they also enjoy blogging about their favorite shows and movies. If sim also has an outgoing trait they can often be found out at venues that have entertainment, or activities that require or encourage sitting such as a bar, movie theater, park bench, laying out by a pool, library, or hair salon. These venues look forward to visits from their COUCH POTATO customers/clients as they tend to stay awhile, spending more money, so they don't have to get up and go back home after coming all this way. The thought, or sight, of physical exercise quickly drains their energy, and they may need to stop for a power nap whether they are at home, a friend's house, or out on the town.

New Objects:

-Hair extensions (4 different lengths/textures/all colors) & accessories (barrets, headbands, bows, scarves) for all ages -Hair salon accessories - couches/chairs, mirrors, work stations w/ stylists' supplies, shelves, hair products -Nail Technician manicure table & chair, client chairs, nail equipment

-Nail art & accessories -Esthetician table & supplies/cabinet -5 piece drum sets (2 sizes adult & child) -Steel drums in 4 different sizes

-Electric Guitars

-Bongos (2 different sizes)

-movie popcorn machine

-soda fountain

-Recliner chairs with large built in cup holders

-Oversized Kites

A Special Thank You... I'd like to thank my daughter ( #SparkleMuffin21 ) and my son ( #DarthDjoe ) for their help in listening to my ideas and giving me their own opinions on this challenge, as well as pretty much all my sim's creations. My grown children both play Sims 4, so I value their opinions, and appreciate the kindness/patience they've shown me as they often help me by sharing their opinions on my creations. This time around they gave me a lot of advice on what I should or shouldn’t include, and my daughter helped me with the naming of the pack & the name of the town for this challenge. Thanks kids! <3

#sims #sims4 #challenge #BuildYourOwnEPChall #SimsBogdy99 #Meechibell #Sims4Gallery #sims4challenge #sims 4 expansion pack #simsr4expansionpack

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jlalafics · 4 years

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“Katniss and Peeta’s Excellent No-Baby Adventure”-an Everlark Fic

For @drivebyanon who requested this prompt: Peeta and Katniss go on a date and leave the baby home with a babysitter for the first time 😄

(I totally relate...)

Summary: Peeta plans to give his wife the best date night ever. Katniss decides to name it. Everlark with a smattering of Hayhanna, Odesta, Gadge, and few other couples.

Peeta stood up as his wife hastily entered the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, babe!” Katniss kissed him quickly, all the while taking off her blazer and revealing her black date night dress. It was a cute number with a simple silhouette and cap sleeves. It was also the only decent dress that fit her after Rye was born. “Meeting ran late. Then, Beetee caught me as I was getting on the elevator. Seriously, it’s Friday. I mean, get out of the office—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Her husband pulled out the chair for her and signaled over their server. “You can drink, right?”

Katniss nodded excitedly. “Oh yeah—I have pumped for the next two days. I am ready to forget this whole week.”

Peeta sat down as the server came up to their table. “She’ll have a glass of Riesling.”

“What’s going on?” his wife asked immediately. “It’s too early in the evening for you to want to get laid.”

“Okay…I have some good news and some bad news,” Peeta told her. “Which one first?”

“Bad news, of course,” Katniss replied as she placed her napkin on her lap.

“Katie had to cancel on us.” He let out a slight breath. “Actually, all our usual high school kids had to cancel when I tried to find a replacement. It seems a number of kids at Panem High caught a case—”

Katniss was genuinely curious. “What? Head lice?”

“Chlamydia,” her husband told her. “So, Katie is grounded for the rest of the school year until she’s off to college.”

“Oh Katie…” Katniss shook her head. “Is it horrible that I’m a little relieved? It’s not that I wanted her to get something that could have easily been prevented with a condom. But I was also thinking that we have to clean everything out in the house in hopes that Rye wouldn’t get lice.”

“No, my big concern is that she invited guys over,” Peeta explained. “I checked all the outside cameras. No one that we didn’t know has entered the house.”

The server reappeared placing her glass in front of her. “So, who is currently watching our child?”

“Drink that first.” Katniss took a long swig. “The good news is that I found a great babysitter. She is more than capable and can actually stay later than Katie could, anyway.”

His wife’s gaze went steely. “Who, Peeta?”

“Johanna.”

“Johanna!” Katniss exclaimed. “She’s never watched a kid in her life. And when did she pop back into town?”

“She is Rye’s Godmother,” Peeta pointed out. “And she’s family. I may have also told her that she could stay for a couple of days.”

The last bit of information was said in such a rush that Katniss almost didn’t catch it.

Peeta hoped she wouldn’t.

“Well…” Katniss took another large gulp from her glass. “…I’m sure she won’t be that bad.”

She downed the rest of her drink.

++++++

Johanna Mason looked at her nephew in the bassinet beside her. He was fast asleep, the mobile above him playing softly. She could tell that her stepbrother had doubts about her ability to watch her nephew, but Johanna was sure that he was blowing it all out of proportion.

Rye was just a baby; he ate, slept, and pooped. This was not a big deal.

Then, the mobile broke.

And the crying began.

++++++

Peeta and Katniss ordered their usual; lamb for her and chicken for him. When their plates arrived, he took the radishes off her salad and she grabbed half of his fries. They caught up on work and she told him about some of the new cases that they were taking on at the firm. He told her about some of the commissions that were coming since his latest gallery show.

Everything was going great in their professional lives and—after many years of trying—they finally got the baby that they’ve been waiting for.

Halfway through dinner, Katniss made a suggestion. “Should we call and check on the baby?”

Peeta reached over, placing his hand over hers.

“Katniss, I’m sure everything is alright.” He looked around the restaurant before leaning forward. “You need to relax, because you’ve been working so hard especially since going back to the firm.” Peeta could tell that she was already trying to come up with ways to get home. “Tell me. What is something that you’ve really wanted to do but couldn’t because you just had a baby?”

Katniss searched her mind. “Um…maybe see a concert…go on a rollercoaster…go dancing?”

“That’s a lot,” Peeta replied grinning. “Let’s do it.”

Right after he texted Johanna.

++++++

‘How’s it going?’

Johanna quickly looked at her phone screen on the coffee table. In her arms was a wailing Rye Mellark, his face red and his bright blue eyes full of tears. She patted his sweaty raven hair as she stood up to pace the floor.

“Baby Boy, it’s just a mobile—” He wailed louder. “I’m sure we can find an alternative song…”

Except Johanna didn’t know any songs.

The next text came in: ‘Should we come home?’

With her free hand, she picked up the phone and pressed the speech-to-text icon.

“’We’re fine. The stupid mobile broke, but it’s okay. Do not come home. One of us should get laid and you two haven’t been alone for six months.’”

She threw the phone on the couch.

“Okay, Rye,” Johanna said to the weeping six-month-old. “Auntie Johanna doesn’t know all the Twinkle-Twinkle bullshit, but she does know her Black Eyed Peas.”

The fussy baby lifted his head to her expectantly.

Okay, she had this.

“Whatcha gonna do with all that junk…all that junk inside your trunk…”

++++++

“Where are we?” Katniss asked as they walked past the long line of people.

“You wanted to see a band, right?” They headed towards the box office. “Are there any tickets left?”

The attendant—a curly-haired teenager—gave them a buzzed smile.

“We don’t have anything on the floor,” he said. “But we do have some VIP tickets left. You get a private booth and unlimited drinks.”

Then, the boy told them the price.

“We cannot afford that,” Katniss told her husband.

“We can and we’re doing it.” Peeta kissed her gently, earning an appreciative hum from Katniss. “You pushed our kid out of your vagina. It’s the least I can do.”

She already knew she would say yes.

But first…

“Let me just text Johanna really quick about feeding Rye.”

++++++

‘Make sure that you give him the spinach that I blended for him. Thanks!’

Two rounds of ‘My Humps’ had quieted her nephew down and by the end, he had actually giggled at her.

When he wanted to be, Rye could be adorable.

They were currently in the kitchen as she warmed a bottle of Katniss’ breast milk—ew—and searched for the pureed spinach in the fridge. Rye sat in his highchair, plastic spoon in his grasp.

“Alright, we’re going to feed you this spinach that your Momma made for you,” Johanna told her nephew, pulling out a small container. She blanched seeing the green mush but went to the baby. “Yum…yum…”

Opening the jar, Johanna put her nose to it.

“Oh, gross!” She looked to the baby. “She makes you eat this?”

Rye put his spoon in his mouth and chewed.

Johanna put the concoction in the garbage. “Oh whoops…looks like you dumped it in the garbage.” She went to the fridge and looked at the other labeled jars. “What do you think of peaches for dinner?”

The baby pulled the spoon out his mouth and gave her a gummy smile.

Holy shit. Her ovaries just exploded.

++++++

“Wow, these seats are amazing,” Katniss gasped as they entered the balcony. “And we’re practically next to the stage.” She turned to her husband. “Thank you so much. We probably won’t be able to send our son to college with the amount you paid, but it was well worth it.”

Peeta shrugged, a smile against his lips. “Well, we’re just going to have to hope that he’s stupid, so we don’t have to worry about it.” He reached, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her against his chest. “I love seeing you smile.”

“If you’re trying to get laid—” Her arms wrapped around his neck. “—it’s totally working.” She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. “I love you so much.”

Peeta’s lips went to her temple, wondering how he ever got someone as beautiful, inside and out, as his Katniss. He lingered against her skin for a moment before lifting her chin to meet her eyes.

“You two are the cutest fucking couple that I have ever seen.”

They turned to find two women by the entrance curtain of their box. One was dark-haired and wearing a green moto jacket with a silk tank and leather leggings. The other was a long-haired blonde. She was wearing a white dress, an oversized jean jacket, and combat boots.

“I didn’t realize that there were four seats here,” Katniss said suddenly. “Sorry! We were just about to makeout in the box.”

“Not that I wouldn’t love for you to continue but my fiancé is about to come on stage,” the brunette informed them. “I’m Annie Cresta and this is my friend, Madge Undersee.”

Peeta nodded at the two. “I’m Peeta Mellark and this is my wife, Katniss.”

The quartet shook hands before taking their seats with Peeta sitting at the end.

“So, your fiancé is in District 4?” Katniss asked.

“He’s the lead singer,” Annie said proudly. “Madge’s man is on drums.”

“So cool!” Katniss replied before turning to her husband. “I can’t believe we’re sitting with people who know the band!”

“I bet Rye is going to love hearing about this,” Peeta replied, putting an arm around her.

“Who’s that?” Madge asked.

“Our little boy.” Katniss pulled out her phone to show them her lock screen featuring their cherub of a son. “He’s six months old. This is actually our first time leaving him for the night…” Her eyes filled slightly. “I kind of miss him.”

“Aww…don’t cry Momma.” Madge gave her a smile. “I’m sure he’s doing fine.”

“Thanks.” Katniss sniffled. “Blubbering was so not part of ‘Katniss and Peeta’s Excellent No-Baby Adventure’.”

“Did you just name our date?” her husband asked in amusement.

Katniss shrugged. “Yeah…”

“Pretty cool. What else do you two have planned?” Annie asked curiously.

“Katniss wanted to go to a concert…go dancing…go on a rollercoaster…” Peeta listed.

“You know what?” Madge suddenly said. “I think we can help you. After District 4’s set is done, you two are coming backstage with us.”

Peeta looked to his wife who nodded excitedly.

“I’ll text Johanna that we’re going to be late.”

++++++

‘Don’t wait up. We’re at a concert and are going to hang with one of the bands after their set is over.’

“Whoa. Your parents are so extra,” Johanna informed the baby, who was laying on her chest. She was prone across the couch, one hand on Rye’s back and the other on her phone. She placed it on the armrest above before grabbing the remote. “They need a fun night.” She stopped flipping when her eyes caught a movie obviously filmed in Hawaii, the island sunset so achingly familiar. “I was just there. Left a man…thought he might’ve been the one. I guess I’ll never know.”

Rye let out a content sigh, burrowing against her contently.

Johanna kissed the top of his head.

“I much prefer snuggling with you, anyway.”

++++++

“Before we finish for the night, I wanted to sing one last song,” Finnick, lead singer of District 4, said. “My beautiful fiancée Annie is here tonight—” There was riotous applause and Annie blew Finnick a kiss from her seat. “It’s kind of a special night for us, so I wanted to sing a cover of our song.”

Thresh, on keyboard, started the beginning of the slow tune as Finnick put mouth to the mic, his eyes on the woman at their box, whose green eyes were glowing with love.

“My heart is filled with so much love…and I need someone I can call my own…” Finnick crooned and there was a collective sigh among the crowd. “To fall in love—that's what every one's dreaming of I hold this feeling oh so strong…”

Peeta leaned over to his wife, who watched the performance and was mouthing the words. It was a popular song when they were teenagers.

“Did you want to dance?” he asked her suddenly.

Katniss turned to him. “Here?”

Peeta stood up, offering his hand. “Yes, here.” Urged by Madge, Katniss took his hand and stood up. He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist as his other hand entwined in hers. “I’m surprised I didn’t get more of a fight.”

“Well, you’re only trying to check things off my list,” Katniss replied, her chin resting on his shoulder. She pressed a delicate kiss to his neck, and he shivered at the spike of pleasure that raced through his body. “Is there anything you want?”

“A little girl?” he suggested, and she drew away from him in shock. “Kidding…for now. Let’s have a few years of seeing if we even like that little meatloaf at home.” Katniss giggled at his words. “Instead, I’d like to practice.”

She raised a brow. “Practice.”

He pulled her close, his mouth brushing over hers. “Thoroughly…until you’re too tired to practice…tonight.”

Katniss laughed breathily. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of practicing with you.”

++++++

Five Hours Earlier…

He packed his bag methodically, trying to think of the many ways to beg for her back without looking like too much of an inconsiderate dumbass. She had told him that she wanted more, and he argued with her; told her that they agreed on it not being forever.

So, Johanna left and took whatever was left of his mangled heart with her.

She had mentioned going to the mainland to see her brother and his family.

Going to his laptop, Haymitch typed in the last name ‘Mellark’, finding the address easily.

A knock on the door sounded—his taxi was here.

Now, he only had five hours to figure out how to convince Johanna to marry him.

+++++++

“Finnick, come meet Peeta and Katniss Mellark,” Annie said, her hand entwined with the bronze-haired man. “Mellarks, meet my fiancé. Finnick Odair.”

The man gave them a bright smile. “Nice to meet you two.” Finnick shook Peeta’s hand and kissed Katniss on the cheek. “I heard you were having an ‘Excellent No-Baby Adventure’.”

“I told you that name was cool,” Katniss crowed to her husband before turning to the couple. “Yes, we’ve already gotten 2 out of the 3 things out of the way.”

“Madge mentioned that you two wanted to ride a rollercoaster.” A dark-haired man with steel eyes approached them. “Gale Hawthorne.” He shook their hands before turning to Finnick and Annie. “Did you tell them where we’re going?”

“No, but they’re coming with us whether they like it or not,” Madge declared, wrapping an arm around Gale’s waist.

++++++

On the way to their destination (in a limo!), the Mellarks met the rest of the band.

There was, of course, Finnick, who was the lead singer and Gale on drums. Cato was on bass and Thresh was on keyboard. They had all met in high school and formed the band after graduation, deciding to try and break into the music industry in oppose to attending college.

They were steadily gaining popularity, their latest single getting regular radio play.

“We’re heading to New York after this to speak with an actual record label,” Finnick told them, his arm around Annie. “Hopefully, it will all work out.”

“In the meantime, I’ve booked them some gigs to keep us living in the lap of luxury,” Annie added. “We’re here!”

Katniss looked out the window and her smoky eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

Thresh chuckled. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“The girls are here!” Cato added excitedly.

The Mellarks stepped out of the limo in a daze at the sight of the amusement park before them.

“Whoa, they really did help with the list,” Peeta said, putting an arm around his wife. “Ready to ride a coaster?”

They joined the group and were introduced to Clove, Cato’s wife, a petite woman with a messy bob who was obviously pregnant underneath her navy sheath dress. Then Thresh introduced his wife, Finch; a tall redhead with sharp eyes who looked very statuesque in her gold lamé dress.

“We’re all set,” Finch told them, walking them through the turnstiles to get into the park. The place had obviously been closed for hours, as the usual litter of parkgoers had been cleared. However, the place was still lit up.

“What’s going on?” Peeta asked as they stopped in front of a large water fountain. Across from it was a two-tier carousel.

“It was a sign of good luck that we met you two,” Annie told them brightly. “Because Finnick and I are getting married.”

Katniss beamed at the two. “When?”

A blond man rushed over, a piece of paper in his hands. “I had to print out my certification at one of the ticket booths. Are we ready?”

Finnick smiled at the couple. “I guess now.”

Madge quickly explained that the amusement park was where Finnick and Annie had their first date and that they kissed at this exact spot where they would also get married. Marvel, their last-minute guest, was Annie’s cousin and the officiant.

So, it came to be that in front of a beautiful lit carousel, Annie and Finnick married.

Peeta wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist as they watch Finnick sniffle through his vows.

“Feels like that was just us,” he said.

“You cried a lot more,” Katniss replied softly before turning her head to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for marrying me.”

“Thank you for giving me that little meatloaf at home,” Peeta said into her hair, watching as the couple exchanged rings. “You two are the best things in my life.”

“By the power vested in me and the hopefully legit internet site that ordained me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Marvel announced. Everyone applauded, the guys letting out whoops of excitement. “Finnick, you may now kiss your bride—just not too much tongue, because she’s my cousin and that would be really gross to see.”

“Then avert your eyes,” Finnick told the man and Marvel chuckled before turning away.

Pulling Annie into his arms, the new husband dipped her down before planting a kiss to her lips, unaware of the cheers around them.

++++++

Johanna awoke to the doorbell ringing. She looked down, finding Rye still asleep, his mouth slightly open.

Sitting up carefully, Johanna readjusted so that the little one was in the crook of her arm before standing up and heading to the front door.

Maybe the couple had forgotten their keys?

The doorbell rang once more.

“Hold your horses,” she muttered before reaching to turn the knob and opening the door. Her mouth fell open at the person before her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” Haymitch asked. “I mean, I came all the way here.”

“No one asked you to,” Johanna muttered, patting Rye’s back. “Plus, I’m obviously very busy.”

“I wanted to,” the man before her said. “And he looks like he’s out for the night.”

“Of course, he is. Rye has spent most of the night asleep on my chest,” she retorted.

“I can relate.” Johanna couldn’t help but chuckle at Haymitch’s words. “Can we please talk?”

“Fine. But if you wake him, you die.”

She widened the door.

++++++

The air was cool from their seats.

“Last thing checked off the list for ‘Katniss and Peeta’s Excellent No-Baby Adventure’,” Peeta said as they ascended in their coaster cart. The newly minted Odairs had the front cart but if they decided to go again, he insisted that they get the front.

“I’m really starting to have doubts about going on this roller coaster,” Katniss said, gripping the railing in front of them. “However, I think this has been a really cool night. I’m looking forward to the next one.”

“I promise there will be another adventure,” he told her.

Katniss leaned over to kiss her husband, no longer caring that they were at the crest of the roller coaster, ready to tip down into the unknown.

They were ready for whatever came next.

FIN.

I really wanted to have ‘Date Night’ vibes (you know the movie starring Tina Fey and Steve Carell) because I think that they had such great chemistry.

Music:

“My Humps” –The Black Eyed Peas

“Shower Me with Your Love”—Surface

All the popular girls in my high school used to do this hula dance to this song and I kind of imagine Annie being one of those girls doing that hula dance during a school talent show and Finnick just falling in love with her in a grass skirt. I thought that it would be cool if that was Finnick and Annie’s song since they’re from a coastal district.

Thanks for reading.

#Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark Ficlet #marriedwithbaby!Everlark #Hayhanna #Gadge #Odesta #Cato and Clove #Thresh and Finch (Foxface)

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