#matched it up to the lyrics just need to tab out a couple of the twiddly bits

[likelyrats]

fucking around with the one of the new song’s chords (no title so we’re going with love and hate which is a shit title tbh I hope they don’t use that)

just need to perfect it, record it, claim it as my own, then sue the libertines for everything they have. profit.

[kienava]

several folks requested beacon era bees for a fic giveaway and i miss them so enjoy <3 

_________

Dancing - Blake can’t remember the last time she enjoyed it.

She remembers going to functions with her parents when she was little and frolicking to her heart’s content before self-consciousness hardened into an opaque shell around her.

With the White Fang, there were plenty of other teenagers who were just as awkward and nervous as she was, but nights spent with them around bonfires always felt stolen and forbidden. Having fun meant wasting time that could be spent on the mission.

Seeing so many hunters-in-training taking the time to relax and forget their own insecurities reassures Blake now. She’s somewhere safe, relatively speaking, and she’s allowed to take a night off from trying to fix the world. She’s allowed to enjoy wearing a dress, and she’s allowed to enjoy yelling the wrong lyrics to songs along with her friends.

Yang was right to encourage this, she thinks. And the fog machine is actually pretty cool.

Considering how difficult it is to look anywhere else when Yang is in the room, Blake’s seen surprisingly little of her. Yang greeted her when she came in and then ran off, and Blake hasn’t spotted her since. It feels a little silly to want to thank someone for inviting her to a school-wide event, but she certainly isn’t going to thank Sun for stepping on her foot three separate times. Blake feels compelled to find her partner and say it anyway, and she’s confident the buzzing in her stomach won’t stop until she does.

Sun is trying to figure out how to re-knot his tie properly after tying it around his head and subsequently loosening it beyond salvation. Neptune is about as helpful as Blake would have guessed, and when Jaune gets involved, the whole thing is a lost cause.

Blake searches the room. It’s challenging enough to look anywhere else when Yang is in a room - but despite that, she’s surprisingly difficult to find.

It’s only when a giggling, stumbling couple clears out of the balcony that Blake sees her. She’s watching from one story up, her elbows propped on the railing and her chin resting on tight fists. There’s a wistful look on her face, and Blake might not have recognized it if she hadn’t seen it before.

She remembers watching Yang drag a piece of chalk across a blackboard, that same expression following as she looks at the floor. Sometimes Yang is loudest when she says nothing at all. When a teacher asks if her semblance causes her pain and she doesn’t say no. When someone mentions their mother at lunch and Yang doesn’t have a quip ready in reply. When someone asks if she’s interested in anyone and she says nothing at all.

Blake thinks she’s started to understand what those silences mean. Right now, Yang is unmistakably lonely.

It’s written in that cloudy, content smile. A quiet yearning with no particular velocity, like a single firefly hovering still over a field in the middle of the night. Look directly at it and it disappears.

Most people are born alone, but nobody is born lonely. That kind of thing has to be learned, practiced, perpetuated. Eventually, when solitude is a choice, it’s a comfort. Blake understands, though it’s not something she ever thought she’d have in common with the most extraverted girl in the whole school.

Maybe it’s foolish to hope that Yang will feel Blake’s eyes on her and turn her head, but Blake hopes anyway. She doesn’t remember when she started wishing so recklessly. The thrill it brings is something she’s only ever mined from the pages of her favorite novels, usually in the moments before an almost-kiss or a bracing confession. So she wishes, and she hopes, and she watches.

Yang keeps her eyes on the crowd, scanning with a soft focus that says she isn’t searching for anything. She glances toward the corner where the fog machine is. Weiss has made plenty of vague threats about the machine breaking under mysterious and unprovable circumstances, so it’s probably smart to keep an eye on it. But that can’t be the sole reason Yang has sequestered herself on the balcony.

Blake drifts off, leaving Sun, Neptune, and Jaune to their contained chaos. Pyrrha will probably intervene before anything gets broken.

At the bottom of the stairs, Blake bumps into the couple from the balcony, but they’re too wrapped up in each other to notice. As they whirl towards the dance floor, already laughing and twirling in each other’s arms, Blake looks over her shoulder, and she suspects her expression matches the one she just saw Yang wearing.

A few other people are up on the balcony, including Ruby, who’s so sick of her shoes that she’s put her bare feet up on a table. Blake passes by and raises an eyebrow at Weiss, who’s in the middle of an impermeable tirade about how revolting and utterly inappropriate it is to take off one’s shoes in public. Ruby simply leans back in a chair precariously, hands behind her head, eyes closed. Sooner or later she’ll lose her balance and fall over, but Weiss is right there to catch her, bare feet and all. That’s what good partners do, isn’t it? Catch each other, no matter what. 

Yang finally looks away from the dance floor when Blake is just passing Ruby’s table.

“Blake!” she calls. Her distant, foggy smile has brightened into a wide grin, and Blake feels like she’s just reached the bottom of a page.

“It's pretty exciting up here,” Blake replies. “I think I just heard Weiss mention foot sweat.”

“Gross,” Yang laughs.

Blake slides up next to her and grips the railing. “I think it hurt her to say it more than it hurt me to hear it.”

“Definitely.”

Yang looks back down at the party, and Blake hears the beat of silence that follows.

Blake pokes Yang’s shoulder. “So, are you having fun up here all by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself. Ruby and Weiss are--”

“Arguing about foot sweat.”

“And I’m having a great time watching.”

“Uh-huh.”

Yang turns to face her fully, and Blake is struck once again by how beautiful she is. The dress is cute, but it’s the attitude, the smirk, the pop of her hip.

“You got something to say, Miss Belladonna?” Yang teases.

“I came up here to say thank you, actually.” Blake rocks away from the railing, hiding her hands behind her back. “But I’m a little confused. You went on and on how much fun this dance was going to be, but you’ve barely done any dancing yourself.”

Yang mirrors her but leans one elbow on the railing. “Sounds like you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

It’s like their own little unconventional waltz. One leads, the other follows, alternate, repeat. Is it too soon for Blake to know that she would follow her partner anywhere? Is it wishful thinking for her to believe Yang would do the same?

Blake could say something, or she could let her sly silence do the talking.

Yang holds her gaze for a moment, then another, before looking over the railing.

When Yang looks back again, her lip curls shyly, and Blake’s pretty sure she’s not thinking about the fog machine anymore.

“I’m glad you came,” Yang says.

Blake wants to kiss her again, pick up where the left off in their dorm room. First kisses are supposed to be messy, and Blake wouldn’t trade it for anything, but she feels the need to thank Yang for this night in as many ways as possible, with and without words. After all, Yang hears her no matter what. 

But they’re in public, and Blake isn’t sure if Yang would be comfortable with that. For all the attention she commands, Yang doesn’t make a point of sharing personal details with... anyone, really, now that Blake thinks about it. Not on purpose.

Blake remembers when she accidentally saw Yang’s bullet-bruised skin after a heavy fight, and she knows that the rest of their team doesn’t know about it.

When one of their friends needs to talk, Yang is happy to listen. Yet she never brings up anything more serious than a bad homework grade herself. She overwrites her own silences with easy jokes and disguised deflections. If Weiss and Ruby are around, she’s wary. Maybe she doesn’t want her sister to worry.

Blake knows what it’s like to keep the truth from people and think that you’re protecting them.

“Yang?” she asks.

“Hm?”

“You are having fun, right?”

Yang shifts. “Of course. Aren’t you?”

“Mostly.”

That catches Yang’s attention, and suddenly this is a very serious matter to her. “What’s wrong? Did someone spike the punch?”

“You wish.”

“Did someone not spike the punch enough?”

“No...”

“Because I can fix that.”

“Nothing needs fixing,” Blake says. She reaches for Yang’s hand and squeezes, hoping it’s convincing. “Tonight is pretty much perfect.”

Yang frowns. “Pretty much?”

“Well, I’ve barely seen the person who asked me to come to this thing in the first place.” Blake steps closer, and she sees Yang’s breath catch in her chest.

Yang covers it with a light and fleeting laugh. “Yeah, I could have guessed Sun wouldn’t be the most attentive date on the planet.”

Blake almost rolls her eyes because that one is way too easy to see through, but she’d rather watch the blush flare under Yang’s freckles. “I wasn’t talking about Sun.”

“Oh.”

Yang doesn’t move, and she doesn’t say anything more, and Blake isn’t sure what to do. Whatever Yang’s silence is trying to say is drowned out by Blake’s deafening need to kiss her, and it certainly isn’t helping that Yang is still holding her hand.

“Blake...” Yang says the name like she’s starting something, and it’s infinitely more exciting than turning a page.

In invitation, Blake nods her head towards the stairs and tugs just slightly on Yang’s hand. “You promised me a dance.”

“I guess I did,” Yang laughs.

She looks down at their hands like she’s double-checking a lock, and Blake hopes she never gets better at hiding it when she’s nervous.

Maybe she’ll get to kiss Yang later, when they’re walking back to their dorm at midnight after staying late to help clean up. Blake’s legs will be pleasantly exhausted from jumping around all night, and Yang will pull her jacket out of nowhere and drape it around Blake’s shoulders. Blake will pause to shiver and pull the coat tighter, and momentum will carry Yang half a step in front. She’ll turn around to see why Blake stopped following, look up at the shattered moon, and then find Blake’s eyes watching her, waiting. It will take a moment, perhaps two, for Yang to gather her courage, and then Blake won’t feel the cold at all.

It’s a scene right out of one of Blake’s books - but it doesn’t even compare to the way Yang looks at her when they reach the bottom of the stairs, all light and admiration. Blake can’t help but think of the couple she ran into earlier, and she allows herself to make one wish.

She hopes they stay like this always, side by side, braced to spin and fall and catch each other.

Blake certainly isn’t going anywhere.

***

[cross-posted on AO3]

[tiffdawg]

Two Halves | A Javier Peña x Reader Oneshot

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: T | Warnings: A dash of angst but only to make the fluff sweeter. Alcohol. 

Request: Part of the 500 Celebration! @jigglemiwa requested 49 (You’re the best part of me) or 42 (You keep that photo of us in your wallet?) from this list with Javier Peña. I thought these were great prompts so I used both! Thank you for the request – this was so much fun to write!

A/N: This is so soft y’all. I was blushing while I wrote it. 

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

… . …

Two Halves

It was like any other night after a long day of work. You were at the usual bar a few blocks away from the embassy apartment complex with a warming glass of tequila cradled between your hands. Javier sat next to you, his discarded jacket thrown over the back of his barstool, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and tie hanging loose around his neck. He looked as tired and disheveled as you felt.

It was a quiet evening, both in the bar where a few other patrons milled about, nursing drinks and chatting idly with whoever would listen, and between you and your partner. Or, former partner. That was what made that night unique: it was your last night together in Bogotá.

Now that the Cali Cartel had folded in on itself, the DEA’s presence in Colombia was downsizing and most attachés were transferring elsewhere. You had a lucrative offer for a position in Mexico. And yet, you were wavering as an inexplicable bout of indecision kept you from making a final call about your future. You’d thought that the last day of work would bring some sense of closure or light a fire under you that would make your decision easier. But it hadn’t. Even then, as you traced the rim of your glass, you couldn’t make up your mind. You were much too busy stealing glances at the man sitting next to you.

As for Javier Peña, his job was done, and he was going home. When he asked you to grab a drink with him that night, you’d expected he would be in a bit of a celebratory spirit. Instead, he was in one of his introspective moods, preferring to sit quietly next to you as he lost himself in his own mind. You doubted he’d ever admit it, but you knew he preferred to have someone by his side, even in moments like that. And if you were being honest with yourself, so did you – especially if it was him.

So, the two of you fell into an old, familiar silence broken only by a deep baritone crooning in Spanish that crackled softy through an old radio behind the bar. You weren’t paying close enough attention to make out the lyrics but if you had to guess, he was probably singing about love. They always were. 

Javier sighed at the last sip of tequila in his glass before downing it. As if he’d been waiting for his cue, the bartender appeared and asked if he wanted another round. Javier turned to you with a raised brow.

You finished off the last of your drink and set your empty glass next to his. You’d had a couple of drinks over as many hours. You could get away with one more. “Why not?” 

While the bartender made your drinks, you watched Javier as he leaned against the counter, head held in one hand as he traced the veins of the wood with the pad of his finger. He’d been contemplating something the entire night and had yet to work out a solution to his problem. And it weighed heavily on his mind. You couldn’t figure out what was bothering him so much. His job was over. That heavy burden he’d been carrying around for years had been lifted from his shoulders and he was free from the DEA. Even if he’d never said it out loud before, you knew that was what he wanted deep down. He should’ve been happy.

Just as you opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, a pair of drinks were placed in front you. You thanked the bartender and pulled your glass toward you. As always, Javier reached for his wallet to pay the tab. And, as always, you tried to stop him.

“Javi, you don’t–” 

“I want to,” he insisted, cutting you off before you could protest, “It’s our last night out together, cariño.”

Your cheeks warmed at his favorite name for you. It never seemed to lose its effect on you. Of course, you would’ve preferred it if he meant its true sentiment. And while you didn’t want to admit to yourself that it was the last night you would spend with him, he was finally talking, so you tried to make light of the situation. “Can you believe that? That it’s all over?”

He only shook his head, his face pinching in a slight scowl, as he counted out the correct payment and a generous tip. As he sorted through his cash, something fell from between two crisp bills. You recognized it immediately: it was a photo strip from an old camera booth. The film was faded and bent, well-worn and maybe even well loved. As if It had been hidden away in his wallet for a while, but repeatedly handled. In fact, you could’ve guessed just how long he’d been carrying it around down to the day.

“You keep those photos of us in your wallet?” you asked, your voice not quite hiding your disbelief, as you gently picked up the photo strip. It was a lost memory from one drunken night out when the two of you were trying to unwind after a particularly bad day. In each of the two frames, the two of you were grinning. First, happily at the camera – or, at least, in the general direction of the camera – and then at each other. 

“I just– I like to look at it sometimes. When, you know–” Javier stumbled, clearly caught off guard. “It’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not,” you assured. You tore your eyes from your smiling faces in the photos to look at him, silently pleading for him to continue with a careful hand on his arm.

He faltered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally spoke. “It helps when you’re not around. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you keeping me in line all the time. Sometimes I look at you and I– I know what I need to do.” He finally looked at you, his dark eyes shining with some new emotion. “You make me want to be better. Hell, you’re the best part of me.” 

“Javi,” you sighed as you blinked away the unwanted tears blurring your vision. 

“I know I shouldn’t say that–”

“No. No, you don’t understand.” The two of you regarded each other for a drawn-out breath. He watched you carefully, waiting for you to explain, as you racked your brain for the right words. Coming up short, you swallowed hard and tried a different approach. “Can I show you something?”

His brows furrowed adorably at you and you resisted the urge to laugh. Reaching for your purse, you took your own wallet and shuffled through the crumpled bills until you found what you were searching for.

You gingerly set the last two frames of the photo strip on the counter, aligning the torn edge perfectly with Javier’s photos to complete the picture. “I like to keep you close too,” you said softly. “Sometimes I– I need you.” 

Javier’s expression shifted into some mix of shock and awe that looked rather foreign on him as he considered your statement and the completed photo strip laid out before him. In the back of your mind, you’d always wondered if the torn edge on yours matched with a second set of photos. Together, the four frames told the story of one stolen moment as it unfolded between the two of you. In an almost reverent gesture, he picked up your half and ran his thumb over the last frame. It was a blurry black and white photo of him cradling your face as he pressed his lips to yours.

“I kissed you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Apparently,” you said with a nervous laugh that was more of a sigh. “Don’t feel bad. We’d had a few too many that night. I don’t remember it either.”

“I wish I did,” he mumbled. When he faced you again, he almost looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared,” you answered with a shrug. “I didn’t know if you remembered. And if you did, you never said anything about it, so I thought you might’ve wanted to forget.”

“Cariño, I don’t think you understand,” he sighed, running a hand over his mouth as he placed your half under his again before turning his body toward yours. “I’ve been sitting here all night trying to figure out how to tell you that I love you.”

The chill that ran down your spine was followed by the sweetest warmth spreading from your chest throughout your body. And the tiniest oh escaped past your parted lips at his confession. “I think you just did.”

“I guess so,” he beamed as a look of relief washed over him. “I love you,” he said easily.

“I love you too, Javier,” you promised, finally speaking those words aloud to him you’d felt in your heart for so long.

You both moved at the same instant, leaning in to crash your lips together in a long-awaited second kiss. One neither of you would forget. As his hands cupped your face to hold you near, your lips came together and pulled apart again and again, you smiled into his kiss at the thought that the two of you must’ve looked just as you did in that photo you cherished so much.

“What?” he asked, leaning away just enough to look at you.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy,” you said wetly. You’d wanted that – wanted him – for so long. You’d all but resigned yourself to the idea that the photo of a kiss you didn’t remember was the closest you’d ever get to the real thing. But the real thing was so much better than you ever could’ve imagined. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

“I know what you mean.” When he spoke next, his tone shifted to something more serious. “Wherever you go next, I’ll follow.” Javier knew about your job offer. You’d attempted to solicit his advice about it on numerous occasions. Only then did his reluctance to help you make sense. “I just want to be with you, mi amor.”

You knew he was sincere. You heard it in his steady voice. Saw it in his determined eyes. And felt it in your heart. There would be no separating the two of you now. As you took in the tired lines of his handsome face, you knew exactly what you wanted the future to look like for the both of you. All of your doubt and indecision faded away as you finally allowed yourself to ask for what you wanted most. 

“I want out,” you admitted with an exhausted exhalation. “I don’t want to go to Mexico or anywhere else they might try to send me. I want to go home, Javi. I want to go home with you.”

Without another word, he picked up the two halves of the photo strip and tucked them both safely in his wallet. For some reason, you doubted you would get yours back. Then he stood and held out a hand to you. “Let’s get out of here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you teased, rolling your eyes even as you slipped your hand into his.

“I know what you meant,” he scoffed as he led you out of the bar and toward. “We have plans to make. Together.”

“I like the sound of that,” you said around a smile as you leaned into his side.

“Although,” Javier drawled as he stopped walking and pulled you into him with two strong hands on your hips, “We definitely need to make up for lost time.” He nuzzled his nose against yours before capturing your bottom lip between his plush ones. It was a kiss so soft and slow it made you dizzy. He was intoxicating in a whole new way. Better than the finest alcohol. And you’d happily drink him in as long as you could.

“I think we can multitask,” you quipped, in between heated kisses. He hummed his agreement but made no move to part from you. The two of you stayed like that for a long time, kissing under the golden beam of a streetlight on a quiet road in Bogotá. It would’ve made for a lovely photograph.

In the end, you never got your half of the photo back from him. But it didn’t matter. Years later, that photo strip sat framed on the nightstand next to your shared bed with a single piece of clear tape forever mending the two halves.

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin

[emiefaunwrites]

Okay so legit now. Someone asked an innocent question about Taka and now...NOW I can't ignore what my brain has conjured up. I would tag them but I'm not sure they'll be interested in my Ishileon bullshit!!

So yeah. Thank you very much @faustsqueeze for triggering me! I have to write this brainrot now haha! Sorry its Ishileon but they my boyyyys!

********************

• Taka likes his classical music.

• It's what he considers 'appropriate' music.

• The modern music these days are just full of sex and drugs and curses.

• As the Ultimate Moral Compass, he cannot condone such...such...THINGS.

• But ever since he heard Leon's SoundCloud rapping, he keeps hearing people listening to rap music.

• He'll pass through the halls and there it is again: that beat and that flow and those clever lyrics...

• DAMN IT!

• He can't help but ask Hiro and Makoto who they're listening to and they let him know its Eminem.

• And don't you know he heads straight to his room, switches on the laptop and listens to as many songs as he can.

• Everything about this man's music is vulgar and offensive and it goes against everything he should stand for.

• BUT HE LOVES IT!

• It's just ADDICTIVE and WITTY and FUNNY and he can't help but play it over and over again.

• And as Taka has an impeccible memory, he learns the entirety of Rap God word perfect within a couple of weeks of obsessive listening.

• But of course, no one can know.

• He is the Ultimate Moral Compass! He can't be seen to listening to inappropriate songs.

• And he's just getting to know Leon! And...he LIKES how he sticks to his morals and is pure hearted and all that. He of all people CANNOT know!

• But what he does in secret is just that. His own little secret.

• And we all know that secrets come out in the open eventually.

• Leon's on his way to the cafeteria one lunch time and decides to stop and see if Taka wants to join in.

• They went on their second date a couple of days ago and he's DESPERATE to arrange the next one as soon as possible.

• So he dusts off imaginary dust from his t-shirt as he walks over to Taka's door...

• And hears the low beat of a song coming from inside.

• Oh Jesus, he's listening to his SoundCloud again!

• Lifting his fist to knock, he finally catches some of the lyrics:

• 'This flippity dippity-hippity hip-hop, You don't really wanna get into a pissin' match, With this rappity brat, packin' a MAC, In the back of the Ac', Backpack rap crap, yap-yap, yackety-yack...'

• Of course Leon recognises the song now - Hiro jist won't stop listening to it.

• So it's not that the song is unfamiliar that shocks him...

• It's that Taka was rapping the lyrics.

• Word.

• Fucking.

• Perfect.

• Holy SHIT!

• He stands stunned outside the door for a few more moments, hearing curses and obscene lyrics coming out of his crush's mouth effortlessly.

• But eventually he knocks, not surprised to hear the music switch off abruptly with some squeaks of panic before the door opens to an overly cheerful Taka.

• 'Ah! Leon! Hello!'

• 'Hey...'

• 'Can...can I help you?'

• 'Yeah. Can I come in?'

• Lunch is entirely forgotten as Leon steps into the room, eyes scanning for the source of music.

• And the only thing he can see is the laptop.

• Taka's looking all shifty too - eyes darting over to said laptop, hands opening and closing against his legs.

• 'S-so...how can I help?'

• 'Oh. My uh...my laptop died. I need to look something up quick. Can I use yours?'

• Lies. Utter lies. But Taka isn't picking up on that as the colour drains from his face - spluttering about using the library or Mondo's or Chi or ANYONE else...

• 'I'll just be quick. Promise. Please?'

• He doesn't wait for an answer and moves towards the laptop, Taka squawking in panic down his ear...

• And sure enough, a Youtube video of Rap God is the first thing open.

• Leon hears the little squeak of shame from behind him, smiling to himself he clicks a new tab and looks up some random thing.

• And just gets up, closing the laptop and stands with - smiling at Taka, who's furiously blushing before heading to the door.

• 'Thanks!'

• 'Wait wait!'

• Leon stops as his arm is pulled back, looking at an extremely ashamed Taka.

• 'Hmm?'

• 'You're...you're not...disappointed?'

• That catches Leon off guard. Why the hell would he be disappointed that Taka listens to...

• Ah.

• A conversation at their last date springs back to his mind - a comment he made on how much he liked Taka's pure heart.

• And this is obviously something Taka thinks will ruin Leon's view of him.

• 'So you like a bit rap? It's no big deal. I like loads of different things. You think I care what people say?'

• Taka's clearly not convinced.

• 'And it doesn't change what I think. You're still cute, even if you swear to a song.'

• Now THAT brings a smile Taka's face, eyes watering with a light flush on his cheeks.

• But then it drops into an accusational glare.

• 'You heard, didn't you?'

• Busted.

• So with a swagger, Leon strides into Taka's personal space and smirks flirtily - pushing his luck.

• 'Hearing you say 'fuck' made my day.'

• Taka has NEVER gone so red so fast in his life!!

[thepointoftheneedle]

Fragment

I’m really enjoying the fragments (and I freaked myself out with that word count thing so I’m taking some time off from writing....note to self -NEVER look at the stats page.). Anyway I keep trying to write this little soulmate thing but, without me intending it, it always becomes an academic paper on the philosophy of colour perception.  And I can’t imagine anybody but me is interested in that!

Below the cut anyway....(I guess this should have been for Friday but what the heck...)

His eyes fluttered open as he awakened but, feeling the warmth of the sleeping girl by his side, he closed them tightly.  He wanted them to have this experience together.  Nothing would ever be the same for them again.  It was a special moment for a couple and he wanted it to be perfect.  He had installed the app on his phone so he fumbled for it, knocking some loose papers from the nightstand and cursing gently.  She mumbled and stirred so he put his hand over her eyes.  “What the hell J?  What’re you doing?”  

“I’m opening up ‘Soul Truth.’  We can look together.”

“Oh J, no, don’t do that,” she moaned softly, beseechingly.

“Ssh, don’t worry.  It’ll be great.”  He kissed her gently, voice-activated the app and removed his hand from her eyes.  She was looking at him, not the screen so he gently turned her head and looked down as she did.  The screen was a uniform blue.  His stomach lurched.  It must be a glitch.  “Wait, wait a second,” he muttered, clicking the app closed and reopening it.  Solid blue.  He looked at her and saw the sadness in her beautiful dark eyes.  Sadness but not surprise.  

She reached out a hand and stroked his cheek softly, “Hey, I’m sorry J.  I didn’t want to disappoint you but I already knew.  I just didn’t feel it last night.”

“Jeez Rox, I’m so sorry.  I can do better, you just have to tell me what I did wrong.  I know I can be what you want. I thought you’d…I thought I felt you...”

“I did, Jughead, of course I did.  Listen.  It was great.  You were great.  So tender and kind.  It was beautiful and I really had a good time but it wasn’t…I don’t know.  It wasn’t whatever soul mates have.  You’ve heard Fangs talk about it.  It’s next level.  Transcendent.  What we had was great sex, but it was just great sex.  No angelic chorus.  You had to feel that?” She was normally tough and streetwise but now her voice was gentle, trying not to hurt him.  There was a painful lump in his throat.

“I thought it was transcendent, you were anyway. I think I’m falling in love with you Roxie.”  His voice was quavering.  He was ashamed of his weakness.  “It has to be a mistake. It’s the app.  It has to be.”  Abruptly he was up and heading down the hallway before she could say another word.  “Fangs, “ he yelled.  “You in there?” He stood waiting, shivering, in his boxers, while disgruntled groaning emanated from the room, until eventually the door opened a crack and Fangs peered out at him.

“Jones, the building better be on fire.  We didn’t get in til four.  What time is it?”

“Just after eight.  Look, is this broken?”

Fangs looked at the proffered screen blearily then a small smile appeared on his face.  “Aww cute bunny.”  Jughead snatched the screen back and swiped up.  An image appeared in his visible spectrum of a cartoon bunny rabbit holding out a carrot.  The legend underneath read “I wuv you.” 

“Uggh, why don’t they have something with a bit of gravitas?  Shit.  Fuck it!”  Jug turned around just as Fangs understood the situation.  

“Oh my god Jughead!  Did you and Rosaline finally do the do? Oh shit…you can’t see that can you? Oh Christ man, I’m so sorry.” 

Jug swallowed down his disappointment, just like he had been swallowing down his anger and sorrow and guilt and sadness for most of his life and shrugged at Fangs.  “No biggie.  Apparently I’m destined to die alone.  Whatever.”  He stalked off back to his own room only to find Roxie already getting dressed. “Roz, shit, can’t we talk about this?  Don’t go. Maybe it’ll happen later, perhaps it’s not always instant?”

Her voice was low and mournful when she spoke. “J I really care about you, you’re my good friend, but we’re both searching for something that we’re never going to be able to give each other. Let’s just take some time apart.  Maybe in a few months we’ll be able to go back to being pals again.  I’m really sorry that you’re disappointed.”  With that she was gone in a whisk of magenta hair and Cabotine perfume.

He sat on his bed and stared into space.  He’d been so sure.  She was a dear friend, she understood him, laughing at the same things, enjoying the same movies.  There was never any stress or conflict with her.  It was easy. She indulged his bad moods and cajoled him out of sulks with food and silly jokes.  He knew enough to leave her well alone when she was getting into one of her rages.  Then gradually, as they worked together on the documentary project, he found himself wanting to touch her hair, wanting to hold her tiny body against his in a protective embrace, wanting to make her feel good with his touches.  She’d seemed uncertain but he’d persevered, wooed her really.  Then finally, excited and giddy after the showcase where their documentary project had taken first place she’d kissed him and whispered, “Do you want to go back to your place?”  He’d been so happy as they’d crunched back to his apartment through the first snow of the winter.  He’d wondered if it might happen when they finished the film.  While sex tended to be the main way that a soul bond was revealed, a lot of soul mates actually bonded on completion of some other kind of shared project.  It hadn’t happened then but he’d been so sure that, if they made love, it would click and the missing shade would be revealed to them.  And then it hadn’t happened.

The app was pretty new.  Before the advent of the smart phone, folks would have a painting or a poster in their homes.  To those who were not matched it would look like an ordinary scene but once a soul bond was formed, the missing colour in the spectrum was revealed, and the soul mates could read the message in the image.  It was a little like a magic eye poster.  You looked at it for a moment or two and then the missing colour reconciled itself into words or an image.  Originally they had some gnomic inspirational quotation.   The one in the trailer he grew up in had, his mom said, had the Rolling Stone’s lyric, “You can't always get what you want but if you try sometime you find you get what you need.” Ironically FP and Gladys had been neither what the other wanted nor what they needed.  Later it would turn out that FP had lied when he stood in front of that poster and told the innocent, love-struck young girl, wrapped in the sheet from his bed, that he saw it  for the first time too. Actually he’d already bonded with someone else, someone who had no intention of getting tied up with a guy in a gang from the wrong side of the tracks.  He must have thought it was his lucky day, a second chance for happiness, when the beautiful girl he’d been romancing excitedly admitted that she could see the colour for the first time.  He’d nodded enthusiastically, said, “Yeah, me too,” and whisked her away to a world of damp trailers, drunken arguments and angry guys repossessing their truck, or the tv, or the kids’ toys.  She’d stayed because she believed he was her soul mate.  She thought she had no other options until, in a drunken rage, he’d revealed that it had always been a lie. She snatched up her daughter and left him.  And left the boy too, unwilling to take a kid who looked so much like the man she had been fool enough to trust and who had ruined her life with his lies.

The fact that scumbags with no moral scruples lied about this shit had led to the development of checking apps like Soul Truth, “the truth, the soul truth and nothing but the truth” according to the tag line.  You both looked at the screen and noted down what you saw, then swiped up and the image was revealed in ordinary unbonded colours.  It made it harder for predators and perverts to take advantage of young innocents while their good sense was overwhelmed by romantic dreams.  It also revealed that about ten percent of bonds were unreciprocated like Jughead’s parents, one of the couple bonded and the other didn’t.  Those couples had to decide if they would make that work, aware that one was more invested than the other, or if it was better to simply part, the bonded still feeling that desperate pull to their mate even decades later. Jug guessed he should be relieved that he hadn’t seen the colour that morning since, clearly, Roz was just not that into him.

He’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the rug like that for thirty minutes when Fangs tapped softly on the door.  “Not now,” he snapped but Fangs ignored him and pushed open the door.

“Ok Jug.  I know you’re upset but it just means you haven’t found her yet.  She’s still out there and if you go into one of your epic sulks you’ve got less chance of meeting her.  What classes have you got today?”

“Nothing I can’t cancel.  Everyone’s cramming for Finals.  I was supposed to meet the princess to go over the final layout for the literary magazine.  She can do it on her own.  She’ll like that better anyway.” 

Now Kevin joined his boyfriend in the room, both of them making him feel self indulgent and guilty with their solicitousness.  “You shouldn’t shut yourself away and mope, Jughead.  Go and edit like a champ and then come by the theatre for us and we’ll go for burgers. We’re striking the set but we can take a break.  Our treat.  What do you say?”

Jughead pondered for a moment.  Nothing was going to change if he sat here, the princess would  be unbearable if he blew her off, and burgers on someone else’s tab were his favourite kind of burgers, so he grudgingly allowed himself to be persuaded.  

An hour later he was in the midst of a heated argument with the princess about his perfectly legitimate decision to kill a terrible poem about the fall which she, inexplicably, had marked for an already overcrowded page four.  “You can’t just take things out without consultation Forsythe.  We’re an editorial committee, we make decisions together.  It’s supposed to be a collaboration.”

“What, you want to keep this pile of third grade horseshit do you? And you’re just calling me that to make me mad. Don’t think I don’t know.”

“I didn’t say that.  It’s terrible.  It obviously has to go.  But you can’t just do it unilaterally. And you can’t call me Princess and not expect me to retaliate.  You know my name.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Princess... sorry, my humblest apologies, for fuck’s sake Betty.  What the hell are we arguing about if we both think it’s bad and needs to go? And why is it even in here in the first place?”

“It’s in there because we were waiting on your egregiously late piece of sub Lovecraftian geek porn.  I was filling space.  Since you finally got your ass in gear we don’t need it anymore. So spike it.”  She had this way of making him feel like he lost, even when he won an argument.  It was infuriating.

They worked on pagination for another couple of hours with surprisingly little conflict, and then he wrote kickers for a few of the longer submissions, hoping to tempt the reader to give a story a chance.  She made sure the submissions were correctly attributed and that the running heads and page numbers and folios were in place.  Finally it seemed that they were done.  He clicked back to the front page, checked the position of the artwork and the masthead and looked over at her with a questioning expression to see if she was satisfied. She nodded her approval and, at last, under the words “Joint Editors”, he typed "Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones.”    As he clicked ‘save’ something shifted in his field of vision.  He was alarmed, pushing back from the desk and looking around, meeting her startled eyes.  Her green eyes, which weren’t green anymore.  He couldn’t describe what colour they were, there were no words.

“What just happened?” she whispered, obviously badly frightened.  

“Does…does anything look different to you?” he replied, hesitantly, reaching for his phone.

“Yes, everything.  What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. Look at this.” He pulled up the app.  On the screen he could see, without difficulty, a cartoon cat, Pusheen maybe, its paws deep in some dough.  The caption read “I knead you.” As he read the words in his head, she said them aloud. “Fuuuuck,” he murmured.  “I think we’re soulmates, Princess.”

[damn-stark]

Crossed Stars Bonus Chapter

Takes place between Ch.7 & Ch.8

A/N- we’re moving onto endgame! You know what that means five year time jump! And for that I decided to make this cool bonus chapter! There is some writing that matters to the story coming forth so 😏 but beside that this will include just “posts” from the characters! Let me know what you thought!! Also I couldn’t post a lot of the posts because I can only post 10 pictures but if you all want more let me know! I have way more “posts”

Warning- fluff, ANGST

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

———

2020

2021

2022

2023

—

Its crazy to think that five years have passed, that you have been down in this strange planet for five years. What’s even crazier is that Steve and you have been together for four of those years (almost five). Well maybe dating him for that long wasn't that strange now that you thought it through, mainly because throughout those five years Poe has stuck around, even after the disaster confession that almost destroyed your friendship completely.

And saying that it wasn’t completely changed after that day was a lie, it was just you trying to be optimistic and trying to forget the fact that he hardly talked to you for a year, that he had confessed his love for you, a confession you neither returned or commented anything at all actually. Just left your own confession, the whole conversation locked in a box to never be opened (hopefully not anyway)

Why was the need to do so anyway? It’s been five years. Five years of the both of you just living life and acting as if nothing happened, him trying to date and you forgetting your feelings for your long time friend and being....happy...with Steve. It was all just going great. Really great!

To the point where both Steve and you chose to go on a double date with Poe and his date.

Great.

“It’s not to late to leave, you know?” You whisper to Steve as you get walked to your table, “we can still catch that Rom-com movie we wanted to see.”

Said man chuckles as he pulls your chair for you to sit, pushing it in a couple seconds after before commenting with the same humor, “and miss this great date? No.”

You groan dramatically and drop your head on his shoulder. Letting him wrap his arm around your shoulder and rest his own head on yours, “it won’t be that bad. Poe and you are good right?”

You shrug and lift your head off his shoulder, “yeah. He’s been distant lately but we’re good.”

As if you had been summoning him said man appears, following after the waiter with a small and pretty brunette at his side. They both sit across from Steve and you, the girls eyes landing on you before landing on Steve sitting next to you, a wide grin appearing on her soft features and her eyes almost seeming to give a glow as she keeps staring at Steve all star-struck—a look you now recognized only after seeing them another other people before.

“Hi, I’m so glad you guys could make it.” You greet with a forced smile, “almost thought you were going to bail.”

“You wish.” Poe jokes making your eyes roll. He then moves his hand and places it on the girls back, whispering something in her ear that made her look away from Steve to look at you with the same happy grin. An action that ticked you off for an unknown reason. “Kacy, this is y/n.” Said girl extends her hand out to you.

“Hi it’s so nice to finally meet you! Poe talks about you a lot, almost thought he was making you up.”

You shake her hand and keep your forced smile plastered on your lips, “it’s nice to meet you too.” You glance at Steve to try and introduce him, even you knew she him, “this is Steve.”

Kacy moves to shake his hand, her green eyes once again giving off that sparkle, “it’s such an honor meeting you.” Steve smiles and her eyes keep glued on him as she speaks to Poe, “you never told me we were coming to dinner with Captain America.”

Poe responded with a serious tone that didn’t match his smile at all, “It was a surprise.”

-

After ordering your food, after getting it brought to the table the girl never stopped talking. But unlike the other girls Poe’s dated, Kacy was...how do you say it in a way that didn’t sound rude, uhh..less of an airhead. She actually talked about dilemmas that went on around the world, and or talked about her job as a fashion designer. She was smart, but here’s the thing, every time she talked it was all just directed to Steve. And yes you couldn’t blame her, in her planet he was a famous hero, but she could be considerate to her actual date.

The only moment she even slightly included anybody else was to talk to you, to ask if Steve had proposed yet. It was question that you simply answered with pressed lips and a shake of your head. While Steve chose to stay silent, just making the whole conversation more awkward. Making Poe chug the remainder of his beer to ease the awkward situation on his part, his mood deflating and growing quieter than he already was. Something that let you speak to him to try and at least make him feel somewhat better.

“How you liking it so far?” You questioned Poe, who’s eyes were fixated on his plate, his hand just mindlessly twirling the pasta on his fork, not noticing you asked him something until you repeated your question.

“Oh, uh. It’s good.” He forced, a half smile tugging at his lips, “wouldn’t mind food from home though. I miss it.”

You nod in agreement, sharing a small laugh at a passing memory, “you know what I miss the most? Snaps food creations. His mixture of food from the rations we would get!”

“Yes exactly! Man even if the rations by themselves were tasteless he had a way to just make them taste gourmet.” Poe beamed, “he would always say he was going to retire and become a chef.” His smile faltered at the memory of his fallen friend, “I miss him.”

“Yeah me too.” Noticing Poe’s mood begin to drop back to what it was before, you decided to leave Kacy unbothered and let her talk Steve’s ear off. “I never told you but when we were starting out in the defense fleet, I uhh....” you pause and cringe at your next comment, “I had a crush on Captain Antilles.” You glance up at Poe who now had a wide grin, his white teeth showing perfectly.

“Oh sweetheart I noticed. I would hear you and the other girl pilots gush about him. I would also see the heart eyes you gave that man when he wasn’t looking. But I do think your eyes widened more when we saw Luke Skywalker.” Poe teased, dropping his fork on his plate and fully engaging with your conversation.

“I could’ve died happy that day we saw Luke Skywalker.” You laugh, “plus you can’t blame me, Antilles was a war veteran. He fought alongside Luke Skywalker and General Organa. He was a walking legend and one of my favorite pilots.”

“You said that about Han Solo, Luke Skywalker and Anakin Skywalker.” His grin turns smug, leaning himself closer to you to ask a ridiculous question. “If you had to choose between those three and Captain Antilles, who would you chose—”

“Don’t.” You interrupt, “I’m not choosing favorites, that’s impossible.”

“Fine,” Poe shrugged, his smug demeanor never fading, “then who would you choose to join your squadron?”

“Pfft,” You breath, rolling your eyes in a lighthearted way whilst leaning in as he did to respond with the obvious answer, “Easy, Han Solo. Only because he did the Kessel run in 15 parsecs.”

“Ah,” Poe shook his finger before you both corrected your answer in unison, “12 parsecs.” The both of you share a hearty laugh, the moment being like it would be before. Feeling like it was just you two and no one else in the room.

The feeling quickly vanishing as Kacy joined the conversation, “what’s so funny?”

“Oh, uhh.” You glance at Poe, both of your laughs dying off and only leaving faint smiles, “just stuff from back home.”

Kacy nods before turning to Poe, “I think it’s time to go. We’re all done with our food.”

“Sure thing.” Steve agrees, waving over the waiter for the tab.

“How about we all go back to the compound?” Poe oddly suggested, his eyes sliding over to you, “I learned a song on my guitar I would love to play.”

Without verbally asking for an answer, Steve and you shared an unspoken conversation as you both looked to each-other, minutes later sharing out loud your response, “sounds great.”

-

“How about you come over tonight?” Steve asks while tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, while you wait for Poe to come back down with his guitar. “We can watch a movie? And in the morning I can make you breakfast?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile, “watch a movie?”

“Or whatever you want to do.” He grins.

You bite your bottom lip and nod, “a movie is fine.” At the sound of approaching footsteps you pull away and sit on the couch beside Steve, with Kacy sitting at his other side, a huge smile on her red lips as she watched Poe.

“I just learned this, so don’t judge. I’m looking at you y/n.”

“I would never,” You snicker before propping your elbow on the couch’s arm and resting your head on your hand, “go. I won’t judge.”

Poe takes a deep breath before he begins to strum the strings, his eyes downcast and focused on what he was beginning to play, the silent strumming beginning to sound like the tune of a song. A quiet humming coming from the back of his throat before he drawled in another deep breath and slowly began to sing. His voice sounding soft and sweet like the melody of the music, the tune slowly picking up like the lyrics he sang.

His brown eyes coming up for a few seconds to meet your own, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he noticed the amazed expression you carried on your features. Tears slowly thereafter brimming your eyes, the soft smile on your own lips never leaving, the sound of your heart thumping in your chest picking up gradually at the brief glances Poe would share with you. Or at the little things you noticed, like the way his, his eyes briefly closed at certain moments, or the way his eyes crinkled when he sang certain lyrics.

Stars.

The tears that pooled your eyes, quickly ran down your cheeks as the sound of lyrics Poe sang hit your ears, words that touched your heart more than it should have ‘and its been a while but I still feel the same..Maybe I should let you go.’

More hot tears streamed down your cheeks as he continued singing, words that tore your heart in two and made you question everything all over again. Slowly coming to realization about something more, about feelings that never left. The feeling becoming overwhelming to the point that it made you rush out of the room and close yourself in the bathroom.

“Fuck me.” You cursed under your breath, running your hands through your hair before placing them on the counter-top. “What’s wrong with me?” Turning on the faucet you placed your hands under the running water, pulling them to splash your face only to drop the water as you remembered the makeup on your face—which was mostly ruined by the stains the tears left behind. “Stupid.”

The sound of the light tapping on the door made you pull away from the mirror to slowly open the door to see Steve with a worried expression painted on his face—“are you okay?”

You nodded and lied, “yeah, I just wasn’t feeling good.”

“You sure?” He pressed, his hand reaching to caress your cheek.

Responding with a silent hum you walked out back to the living area, meeting Poe gaze for a second before looking away and excusing yourself out to the group.

“It’s been a fun night, I really enjoyed it,” you feign a smile, “but uh I’m not feeling that well, you know I—”

“You’re pregnant?” Kacy interrupted abruptly and too enthusiastically, causing Poe to choke on the water he was drinking and for your eyes and Steve’s own to widen alike.

“What?!” You squeak, “no! Haha no. No. No.” Was that too many “No’s?” “It was the food, I just don’t think it sat well. I’m going to go to bed. It was nice meeting you Kacy.” Without waiting for an answer from anyone you walked away knowing Steve was following.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re okay?” He stressed again.

Turning around you stop before him and nod, “yeah. Is it fine if I go over another night? I’m not feeling okay.”

“Sure.” Steve agreed with hidden disappointment, his eyes catching Poe’s curious gaze on you before he turned away. “Goodnight. I love you.”

You smile sweetly and press a light kiss on his lips, “night.”

—

May 5 2023, couple days before the events of endgame. (Since I don’t know the actual month the events actually take place I just guessed)

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.

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(A/N- this chapter just complicates my feelings for both men..UGHHHH!! The bonus scene literally made me cry, ughh So again I ask, Team Dameron? Or Team Rogers?!! Also these relationships, especially the one with Poe and reader has been one of my favorites to write and develop. I’m so proud of it and I hope you guys like it too.) Also Future chapters is finally Endgame!!!

Tagged- @itsbuckyb1tch​​​​​, @kaitlynw011​​​​​ , @blushingwueen​​​​​ , @80sthottie, @thescarletknight2014​​​​​ , @bbuckysbeardd​​​​​ , @ellvswriting​​​​​ , @sakurashortstack​​​​​ , @whatthefrickfrackwereyouthinking​ , @danicalifxrnia​​​​​ , @lanatheawesome​​​​​​ , @perryoncw​​​​​ , @panic-onthegroundsofbrooklyn​​​​​ , @abysshaven​​​​​ , @valeecruz16​​​​​ , @gummy-bears16 , @winchescumberholland​​​​​ , @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass​​​​​ , @randomhanabananas​​​​​ , @just-a-sad-chicken-nugget-xxx​​​​

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care​ , @commondazy​

[jungshookz]

ceo!yoongi - daddy’s little girl

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ summary: it seems like hwayoung might have a favourite parent, and, spoiler alert: it’s not you.

→ genre: ceo!yoongi universe, fluFF aka jimin and hwayoung in matching teddy jackets, angst because parenthood is hard, lil touch of smut because yoongi n y/n have missed each other and hwayoung keeps cockblocking them womp womp

→ wordcount: 5.5k

→ notes: if you missed the ceo!yoongiverse as much as i did i hope you’ll like this drabble!! i’m sorry it took so long ya girl’s been buSY as heck! anyways i have moVed on from google translate and i have a vEry special translator who i will not expose in case they want to remain anonymous but for those of you who were horrified by the google translate korean from a couple drabbles ago i hope this time around it’s better!! also i couldn’t come up with a better title so get ur minds out of the guTTER

if you have no idea whO ceo!yoongi is, go ahead and read the fic that started it allllllllll anyways i hope you guys like this one! feel free to flood the friCK out of my inbox i love dat shit

or if you’re interested in reading other ceo!yoongi drabbles: the proposal | x | the wedding | x | the first date | x | jealousy | x | baby makes three | x | the fishnet stockings | x | baby min’s timeline | x | the birth of baby min | x |

if u wanna ask yoongs or y/n (or hwayoung?? u won’t get a lot outta her unfortunately) anything u know what to do ;-)

(gif isn’t mine!)

(((and the read more function iS there but most of the time it doesn’t work on mobile :// i am sorry don’t attack me by sending passive-aggressive anon messages)))

you’re pretty sure hwayoung hates you

which is NOT fair because you gRew her for nine months and um also YOU BIRTHED HER

“we’re never going to get this diaper on if you keep kiCking me” you scowl as her tiny foot digs into your (still sensitive) stomach and you wince in pain

how the frick do diapers work

it’s just deconstructed underwear and you can’t even figure it out

which way is the back????

“okay, let me just…” you lift her up a little and slide the diaper underneath and plop her bum back down

hm

no that doesn’t look right

maybe that’s the front???

“sorry, wait-“ you lift her up again and she gurgles when you whIp the diaper away from under her “okay, now i got it”

you’re about to reach out to lift her up again but then

o frick

you sigh frustratedly when her face crumples up and she starts to wail “oH my god girl why are you crying?? what is there to cry about?????? do you want to hang out in a poopy diaper all day???? i’m trying to help you!!”

she starts to cry harder and now yOU want to cry

jesus

your ears are literally about to start bleeding

this girl has a pair of lungs for sure

“hey, what’s wrong? y/n, what did you do?” you turn as yoongi walks into the nursery looking as concerned as ever

“wha- what makes you think i did something??” you scoff and yoongi plucks the diaper from your hand

“오~케이 아빠왔다! 아빠가 기저귀 빨리 갈아줄게! [oh...okay... daddy’s here! daddy’s gonna change your diaper!]” yoongi tuts and slides the diaper underneath her and her wails begin to reduce to small hiccups and whimpers “y/n, jagi, i know you’re tired but maybe you shouldn’t yell at our two-month-old child, hm?”

“i wasn’t yelling-“

“you kind of were” yoongi mutters and you clench your fists in frustration

you can’t help it

you haven’t slept in like a week so you’re exhausted and you feel like you’re about to pass out all the time

your boobs are always just,.., leaKIng

your nipples!!! are so chaffed!!! and so raw!!!!!!!!

all of your clothes are now stained with multiple types of bodily fluids

you watch as yoongi tightens the straps and then sticks the little tabs down

and the whole time

hwayoung doesn’t move and barely makes a peep

she gurgles as he tucks her legs back into the onesie and buttons her little outfit back up

“alright, you chunky monkey” he pinches her thighs and grins down at her “we’re all done! 아~ 내 째깐한기— 누구 딸이길레 이렇게 귀여운거야? [oh, you’re so cute - whose baby is this cute?]” he coos and tickles her plump lil belly

he rubs his nose against hers and her tiny palm slaps against his cheek

yoongi picks her up and cradles her in his arms and she sucks her fist into her mouth

“how about you go and take a shower? i can take care of her for a bit” yoongi murmurs and yanks her fist out of her mouth

she whines and shoves her fist back in

he doesn’t give you a choiCe because then he’s walking out of the nursery

okay

guess you’re taking a shower

you let out a long sigh as the hot water rains down on you

you don’t know how you’re going to survive motherhood

it’s already so hard

you can’t even put a diaper on

you know what

motherhood is difficult buT you know for a fact it’s going to become easier

yeah

just give it some time

everything will be fine

3AM

the sudden sound of wailing jolts you awake and you sit up immediately

the baby monitor next to you is blinking like crazy

u don’t even need the baby monitor to tell u that hwayoung is crying because her cries are so loUD

you reach over and turn on the lamp and let out a sigh

there’s some shuffling next to you and yoongi reaches over and places a hand on your bare thigh

“i got it, don’t worry.” yoongi murmurs and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with his other hand

“you had a long day at work today… i can take care of it” you bring his hand up to your mouth and press a kiss over his knuckles

“no… no….i…i got it…” yoongi rolls over onto his stomach and flops an arm over your lap

he’s basically fallen back asleep and you can’t help but snort quietly at your husband

you run your fingers through his hair gently before pushing him back so that he’s on his back

you let out another yawn and crawl out of bed

“coming, i’m coming…” you make your way down the hall to hwayoung’s room

goD

you are so tired you could pass out right now

“hi, sweet girl… can’t sleep, hm?” you scoop her up into your arms and she tucks her face into the crook of your neck and continues to sob

you can feel your shoulder getting wet from the copious amount of tears and snoT being produced by your child as you pace back and forth

you spend the next twenty or so minutes trying to calm her down but nothing seems to be working

she keeps spitting out her pacifier

you tried bouncing her and it didn’t work

you cradled her in your arms and sat in the rocking chair and it didn’t work

you even tried singing that stupid tomato song that jungkook and jimin sing to her that she seems to like (u don’t really know the lyrics so it was basically just you saying ‘tomato’ over and over again but in the tune of the song lmao)

“she’s still crying?” you look over your shoulder to see yoongi standing by the door

you’re about to respond but hwayoung lets out another ear-piercing sob

he scratches at his bare chest and lets out a yawn before holding his arms out “c’mere, give her to me”

you’re about to protest because u want to prove to yourself AND yoongi that you are capable of making your guys’ child stop crying but like

your arms are starting to get tired

and hwayoung doesn’t seem like she’s going to stop crying any time soon

the moment yoongi takes her into his arms her cries start to quiet down significantly and you’re like ????????

are u having a fever dream

is this even happening right now

“yeah, there we go… 아이고야, 아기야 울지말거라.....[no need to cry…]” yoongi coos and pats her back gently

a fat tear rolls down her cheek as she shuts her eyes and-

what

did she just fall asleep

she totally just fell asleep

“hey, look at that! easy-peasy.” yoongi teases but the smile drops from his face when he sees that you are very noT amused

“that is so not fair.” you grumble and watch him put her back in her crib

as days start bleeding into weeks you can’t help but realise just how exhausting being a mother is

you can’t even grasp the basic concept of time because you’ve been hanging out at home all day and all night

you only know it’s nighttime whenever yoongi comes back from work

yoongi’s been a vEry supportive and doting husband and father even though you know he’s super busy at work

he offers to make dinner and he gives you back massages when you need it

he’s always the first one outta bed whenever hwayoung starts crying in the middle of the night

jimin and kook stop by from time to time

most of the time they bring food for you which you’re very grateful for

the point is

usually you have someone there with you whenever things get rough

but tonight

tonight is really testing you

yoongi isn’t going to be home for a little while longer

jimin is busy at work with yoongi

jungkook’s hanging out with his other pals tonight

so it’s just you and your baby

speaking of your baby

hwayoung is being especially difficult tonight

more difficult than usual

you can’t help but wonder if she inherited the stubborn gene from you (the answer is yes in case it wasn’t already painfully clear)

she hasn’t cried in two hours which is concerning because she usually bursts into tears like every twenty minutes

that means when she eventually cries it’s going to be the most intense waiLS you think you’ll ever get from her

“you sure you don’t want any milk?” you let out a sigh of frustration as you try feeding her your nipple and she moves her head away before bursting into tears “c’mon, just-“ you try manoeuvring her head towards your boob again and she whips her head away “hwayoung, please, mommy’s boob is literally probABly going to explode if you don’t-“ she starts to cry harder and you’re pretty sure she’s going to pop a lung if she doesn’t stop “okay okAY okay no milk no milk” you shush and stand up and start bouncing her gently

you wince and reach up to cup your boob

o god

your boobs hurt so fuckign much

you need to pump some milk out before you pass out

you haven’t used the breast pump yet because hwayoung’s been diligent with the milk drinking but for some reason she’s refused to drink aLL day today which has resulted in what you think is an ovERProduction of milk in your boobs

“shh, it’s okay, there’s nothing to cry about…” you mutter as you go through the cupboards and- “ah! found it!!”

“mommy’s just gonna put you down here, okay?” hwayoung’s calmed down a bit but you know she’s still irritated because she keeps fussing and whining

you lie her down on the couch and take a seat next to her

you don’t think you’ve ever felt suCh relief in your life when you finally attach the pump to your boob and it starts suCkINg the milk out of your body

“thank god..” you sigh and rest your head back against the couch

all that can be heard in the room is the continuous pumping of the machine with hwayoung’s occasional babble thrown in

see

everything’s fine

you glance over and-

“hwayoung-!” you gasp and imMediately reach out to grab her before she can roll off the damn couch

and then all hell breaks loose

your hand knocks against the bottle attached to your boob when your arms whIP out to grab onto her

the bottle tumbles onto the ground and you literally want to die when the milk spills out and starts soaking into the rug

that was

that was like all of your milk

that was hwayoung’s meal and it’s all gone

“fuckin-“ hwayoung’s shrieking at this point and you have no idea what to do

here you are in the middle of the living room with a boob hanging out of your nurSing bra with your child crying into the crook of your neck

“okay, it’s fine, don’t cry!” you seem like you’re telling yourself that rather than hwayoung

you groan in pain when you shoVe your sore boob back into your bra and you don’t even bother buttoning yoongi’s shirt up because there’s no timE

“okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, mommy’s here,” you try to shush hwayoung as you furiously dab at the carpet with her ducky blanket

she’s squirming in your grip and you wince when she smacks her tiny fist against your face

“-daddy heard your crying all the way from- woAh what the hell” the last thing yoongi expects to see when he walks into the penthouse is the sight of you on your knees scrubbing at the carpet while cradling hwayoung in your arms (who is squirming so much she’s literally about to faLL out of your arms)  

“take her, i need to clean up the milk” yoongi rushes over and takes hwayoung from you and you immediately zip to the kitchen to grab the cleaning supplies

“눈물 뚝... [don’t cry, don’t cry...]” yoongi whispers and bounces her in his arms

she continues blubbering and big fat tears roll down the sides of her face “화영아 울지마... 아빠야.. [hwayoungie, don’t cry... it’s daddy...] no, no! don’t cry, it’s okay!] y/n, what happened??”

“i- it’s fine, everything’s fine, it was an accident,” you breathe out as you come back with a damp cloth “-i was pumping milk and i put her down and i wasn’t paying attention and she was wiggling around a lot and i guess she squirmed all the way to the edge of the couch buT BUT i caught her! i caught her and ended up ripPing the pump off my boob-“ you drop to your knees and start dabbing at the milk

it’s too late

most of it has soaked into the rug and you don’t want the living room to reek of your crusty breast milk when it fully dries

shiT

you should grab the bleach

but this rug was eXPENSIVE

“i’ll go put her to bed, okay? i’ll be right back”

you don’t know if it’s the hormones or the lack of sleep or whatever but suddenly you feel your eyes starting to well up with tears the moment you’re left alone

it’s just

you’re so overwhelmed and so tired

hwayoung hates you

you can’t do anything right

you can’t even put a damn diaper on your baby

you can’t get her to drink from your stupid boob

and not to mention it took you like 20 minutes to figure out how to attach a pump to your boOb

your movements start to slow down significantly when it hits you

you’re an unfit mother

it’s true

you are an unfit mother

“she’s a bit fussy tonight, no?” yoongi jokes as he comes down the stairs

he purses his lips when you don’t reply and continue to scrub fuRIously at the rug “…lemme help-“

“no, it’s okay.” you shake your head quickly and swallow the lump growing in your throat

yoongi kinda stands there awkwardly because he doesn’t know,..,,. what to do.,.,

“okay. uh… do you… want pizza for dinner? cauliflower crust good with you.” he jokes aGain as he loosens his tie

and once again

he’s met with nothing but silence

he feels like this is the calm before the storm

something’s coming

u know what

he’s just going to call the pizza place

he’ll make sure to get extra garlic dip for u

hopefully that’ll cheer you up a bit

you lean back against the couch and look down at the dark patch on the rug

okay well

you got most of the milk out

so everything is fine now

yes

everything is fine

you press your lips together to try and suppress the incoming soB because you know yoongi’s tired and he probably doesn’t want to deal with-  

“i’m a terrible mother!” you burst into tears and immediately reach up to cover your face with your hands and yoongi jumps in surprise

thEre it is

“baby, no! you’re not a terrible mother!!” yoongi’s brows knit together and he drops to the ground right next to you

you immediately launch yourself into yoongi’s arms and bury your face into the crook of his neck

“i just don’t understand why i can’t do anything right like i can’t [hiccup] even change her diaper i don’t know [sob] what the f-front of the diaper looks like and what the back of the diaper [hiccup] looks like and she won’T EVEN drINk from my b-boob so now my boobs huRT [sob] and i know it’s not her fault because it’s always my fault i’m the one who keeps messing up howamisupposedtotakecareofababywhenicanbarelytakecareofmyself-“  

yoongi can barely understand what you’re saying because your words are muffled and you’re blurring them together pluS you’re uncontrollably sobbing but he manages to make out a couple of your sentences

he lets you cry and cry and crY out all your anger and sadness and frustrations for the next ten minutes until you quite literally have no tears left to cry

you sniffle and pull away from yoongi

your eyes are watery and puffy and your nose is red and your lips are swollen “…so how was work?”

“you aren’t a terrible mother.” yoongi deadpans before reaching up to cup your cheeks “how’d you manage to get that silly idea into your head?”

you scoff and reach up to wipe at your eyes “yoongi, i can’t do anything right. you’re nailing this whole being a parent thing and i’m just fucking it up for everyone.”

“no, you’re not! and you’re not alone, you know that! we’re both in this together - last time i checked, hwayoung is half of you and half of me. i have my fuck up moments too! i didn’t tell you this because i didn’t want you to get mad but i accidentally clipped hwayoung’s finger when i was cutting her fingernails and there was a little bit of blood but-“

“you whAT-“

“-not to mention, you have jimin and unfortunately you have jungkook too but the point is you are not alone in this!!! i know things are hard right now because babies are difficult but you are not a terrible mother. you take care of hwayoung-ie so well and you love her so much and i can’t even think of any woman more perfect than you to raise my child. it’ll get better, i promise. but for now, the most important thing you need to know is that you are not a terrible mother.” yoongi holds your face up “look at me and say it.”

your eyes flicker up to him before they look back down at the rug “…u r not a terrible mother”

“y/n, seriously-“

“i am not a terrible mother.” you murmur and reach up to wipe at your puffy eyes

“i would ask you to say it louder but i’m not risking waking the baby up.” yoongi laughs lightly and wipes a stray tear away for you before giving you a sweet lil kiss “you okay?”

“ya i guess so... you still gonna order pizza for us?”

“mhm”

“with extra cheese?”

“yup”

“and stuffed crust?”

“…well now you’re just pushing it buT yes, you deserve stuffed crust.”

:-)

yoongi was right

things got better

“what’s the matter with this film?? it’s about mermaids! i’m sure you’ll grow to like mermaids.” you look over at hwayoung who’s just chilling in her little rocker

since you and yoongi are ~millennial~ parents obviously you guys had to get your baby more modern things

it’s a rocker that rocks itself!!

..or maybe u guys are just lazy lol

hwayoung gurgles and her little arms flail around a bit

“unless you wanna watch basketball or something.” you mutter and switch the channel

you’re sitting on the ground next to her and the both of you are just enjoying each others’ company

once again hwayoung’s pudgy bread roll arms flail around

“what’s the matter, miss fussy?” you coo and pull her out of the rocker gently and proceed to place her on your chest

you lower the volume on the tv because you figure she’d appreciate more silence since she’s tryna go to sleep

“alright alright just gimme a second to get comfortable.” you can’t help but laugh when she lets out the tiniest most adorable yawn

you sit on the couch and lean back a bit and hwayoung burrows her face into the crook of your neck before turning and squishing her cheek against your shoulder

and-

you pause

“…hwayoung?” you whisper and awkwardly crane your neck so you can kINda look at her face

oh my god

she fell asleep

no way

you press your lips together to keep yourself from scREECHING in excitement because she nEVER falls asleep in your arms!!!!!!! EVER

holy shit

ok

oh god

now you can’t move because u don’t want to wake her up

u know what it’s totally fine because the point is hwayoung is sleeping on yOU

“i can do this.” you breathe out as you look up at the ceiling

yeah

you can do this

you’re not a terrible mother

yoongi shuts the door behind him as quietly as he can

the penthouse is eerily quiet tonight and yoongi’s only slightly concerned

he’s tempted to call out for you but he doesn’t want to just in case-

oh

aw

yoongi has to press his lips together to suppress the big fat grin on his face because there you are

there you are

asleep on the couch with an arm hanging off the edge while the other is wrapped around hwayoung

meanwhile hwayoung is sprawled on top of you with her lil cheek smushed against your chest

her little duckie blanket is tossed over her

the two of you are drooling which yoongi finds absolutely endearing

“c’mere...” yoongi scoops hwayoung up from your chest and cradles her in his arms

she stirs in her sleep and her little nose twitches (yoongi wants to melt right then and there because she definitely picked that up from you!!)

he tucks her into bed as slowly as possible so that she doesn’t wake up

of course his head knocks into the mobile hanging above her bed and it jingles a little bit

luckily she’s a deep sleeper

he picks up her little chocolate chip cookie plushie (you named it shooky for some reason which don’t even make any damn sense) and places it right next to her head

and then he just takes a moment to admire her

wow

that’s his little baby

that’s his daughter

he never thought he’d be a dad this young

heck

he didn’t even think he’d be married this young but

u know what

life works in funny ways

and he’s pretty sure he’s the luckiest guy in the world

the floorboards creak under his feet as he makes his way back to you

he bends down and reaches over to move a strand of hair away from your face

“y/n…” yoongi whispers and smiles fondly when you stir in your sleep

there’s that nose twitch

you peel an eye open before reaching over to cup yoongi’s jaw “hey… you’re finally ho-“ suddenly you sit straIGHt up and look down

“i put her in bed a minute ago” you visibly relax and you let out a sigh before lying back down

“she fell asleep on me tonight” you hum happily “i think she likes me”

yoongi snorts and rolls his eyes before getting back up onto his feet “c’mon, you. let’s get you into bed too” you let out a whine and swat lazily at his hand

“i’m too tired to move”

classic

yoongi bends down to pick you up

you wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps your legs around his waist

“c’mon, you big baby.”

he bounces you a little to make sure he has a good grip on you and you hum

this position feels very familiar hEhe

“i thought you were tired” yoongi teases when he feels you begin to plant kisses down his neck as he makes his way up the stairs

“changed my mind” you murmur

one hand wraps around the nape of his neck

meanwhile your other hand wraps around his bicep and you give him a lil squeeze

hoLy moly

“have you been working out?” you pull away from him and yoongi raises his eyebrows

“if by rocking our child to sleep every night for like two hours straight, then yes, i have been working out”

yoongi plops you down on the mattress before settling in between your legs

you wrap your legs around his waist and yoongi can’t help but laugh because he’s trYIng to undo his tie but you keep pawing at him

“what’s gotten into you??” you’ve sat up to unbuckle his belt

you are a woman on a mission

and he’s not complaining

you’re just being vERY speedy

“our baby might start crying at any moment-“

“she sleeps like a log-“

“buT she always starts crying at the most inconvenient time!! it’s like she knows everythING that goes on- christ, you’re really taking your sweet time with- you know what-“ suddenly everything whiRLS and yoongi’s staring up at the ceiling

he blinks twice

what the heck

“now shut up and enjoy the ride.”

god

he really is the luckiest guy in the world

“look, we match!” jimin beams

he has hwayoung cradled in his arms and she’s sucking on her fist while wearing the most adorable teddy jacket

and jimin

jiMIN is wearing an equally as adorable teddy jacket and you’re pretty sure your heart stops beating when he nuzzles his nose into her cheek

they’re both so squishy

she places her hand over his mouth and pinches his plump bottom lip in response and he yelps in pain which then triggers hwayoung to become a giggling mess

“y/n, take a picture!!” jimin hands you his phone and points to you in an attempt to get hwayoung to look at the camera

she keeps staring at him as if she were completely entranced by his beauty which.,.,. is fair

jungkook appears behind you and starts whistling and popping his tongue “정국삼촌보세요!!! [look at uncle jungkook!]”

jimin grins for the camera and squishes his cheek against hwayoung’s as he squeezes her tight

hwayoung squeals in delight when jungkook sticks his tongue out and crosses his eyes and you snap the picture quickly

“got it??” jimin bounces hwayoung up and down while continuing to squish his cheek against hers

you nod and hand his phone back to him expEcting him to give you hwayoung

“i’m taking her for the rest of the day!! i have to show the reSt of the office my baby”

“your baby?? i’m the one who pushed her out of my vagina!” you scoff and jimin puShes past you while baby-talking to hwayoung

“look at you in your little teddy jacket, you cutie! uncle jimin loves spoiling you, yes he does! i’m gonna take you on a shopping spree and you can buy whatever your little heart wants!”  

she babbles back to him and shoves her fist back into her mouth

“화영이 내꺼~야, 삼촌이 더 좋지? [hwayoung is mine~ i’m better, right?]” jimin coos and you watch as he disappears down the hallway

well

you’re probably never going to get your child back now

jungkook didn’t think he’d like hwayoung as much as he does because like

babies are disgusting

and annoying

and loud

and they drool and poop everywhere and they’re just constantly leaking fluids

but bitch

he is W HI P P ED for this baby with a capital wH

“i love tummy time, don’t you?” jungkook sighs and rests his cheek against his fist before looking over at hwayoung

he reaches over to squeeze her bread roll arm

squidge

uWU

“i’m gonna eat ur little bread roll arms yes i am yes i am” he shifts closer and leans down to nip at her elbow and she squawks

you can’t help but snort before returning your attention back to your laptop

you set up hwayoung’s mobile in yoongi’s office and jungkook popped over with your coffee and is supposed to go back to work immediately but here he is lying on the floor with your baby

hwayoung gurgles before letting out a huff and squishing her cheek against the floor

keeping your head up is hard work okAy give her a break

jungkook flips over onto his back and reaches up to whack at the little moon plush that’s hanging from the top of the mobile

hwayoung lets out a muffled whine because her face is currently smooshed against the floor seeing that she cannoT LIFT HER HEAD SOMEONE HELP HER

“알았~어 인제 한번 뒤집어보자? [okay~ how about we flip you over?]” jungkook tilts his head backwards so that he can look at hwayoung but all he sees is the top of her head

he sits up before turning and picking hwayoung up gently and flips her over like a lil pancake

“jungkook, careful” you scowl and jungkook waves you off before reaching down to flick the moon plush

hwayoung reaches up to try and grab it

her chubby fingers brush against the bottom of it and jungkook coos

“you can’t reach the moon because of your sausage fingers, ya loser” he teases and reaches down to boop her nose and she swats at his finger

jungkook is still hooked on this bread roll arm thing (he’ll never get over it for as long as he lives) and pretty soon all that can be heard in the room is him fAWning over hwayoung

“얘는 팔에 식빵 있네! 식빵 사세요!!! [this baby has bread-roll arms! come buy this bread!]” he laughs as he wiggles her plump arm around

yep

caPITAL wH

“and if those papers aren’t on my desk by monday morning 8am you can consider yourself fiREd” yoongi barks before slamming the phone back down onto the receiver “ridiculous! absolutely ridiculous” he scoffs and whips around

hwayoung squawks in the baby carrier and wraps her tiny fingers around yoongi’s pointer finger

“하.. 나진짜! [i mean, seriously!]” yoongi bounces up and down as he continues to ramble on and on “이 사람들은 내 시간 낭비하는게 일인가.. 서류 작성하는게 뭔 어려운 일이라고...??[these people are wasting my time! how hard is it to fill out documents??]”

when the korean comes out that’s when you know yoongi’s suPer pissed

you poke your head through the crack of the door and you’re only a little surprised to see yoongi pacing back and forth ranting angrily while hwayoung lets out the occasional babble

she looks at you like she wants you to save her from this hELL because yoongi’s bouncing her a little bit too aggressively now

she’s got her fingers wrapped around his pointer finger as he goes oN and oN

yoongi looks down at the baby attached to his chest “don’t you think this is ridiculous? i’m probably going to have to start firing people at this rate.”

hwayoung looks up at him and gurgles

“누구 해고하는거 내 마음인데, [i can fire whoever i want] thank you very much.”

“agha”

“얘네 무능하다 [they’re incompetent], that’s why!”

“bajdsl”

hm

this seems like a daddy-daughter moment

you’ll leave them alone for now

“you look like such a dad.” you snort and yoongi glances over at you before returning his attention to the TV

“i am a dad.”

he’s wearing a plaid button-up pyjama top with a t-shirt underneath (because it’s still a lil cold out) and hwayoung is lying on his chest just snoozing away

she’s wearing a matching plaid onesie which is adorable and u know yoongi did it on puRpose

you sit down next to yoongi and peek at hwayoung

her cheek is squished against his chest and you can’t help but poke her little nose

you rest your head on yoongi’s shoulder n he gives the top of your head a kiss

in this moment you can’t help but feel overwhelmingly happy

because you love your husband

and you love your daughter

“…i think hwayoung just pooped.”

…and you love your lil family of three.

[hollandroos]

How Could I Not? | Seven

Playlist | Wattpad | Series masterlist

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test and Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 3361

Warnings: Lots of talk of adoption. Please don't read if that is a sensitive topic for you and hold back any nasty comments until you read future chapters, thank you!!

Please remember to reblog/comment/send an ask if you enjoyed this!!

Read the previous chapter here!

It wasn’t really anyone's fault that you forgot there was food in the oven – what, with the gentle tune of the Beatles playing overtop of a chorus of everlasting laughter between the two of you, not to mention the snoring dog in the corner of the room. Something was bound to happen – it was you and Tom, for crying out loud.

“Dance with me,”

Tom says it as a statement, not a question. He wants – no, he needs you to dance with him. He needs to feel his arms wrapped securely around your waist, to feel your feet move in time with his. It was so cliche, really, but Tom lived for cliche.

He was the type of go out of his way to surprise his love with roses on his way home from work, one for every time he’d wanted to send a quick ‘I love you’ text that day but hadn’t been able to. The type to spend hours perfecting the best meal he could muster up and additionally, plate it with a glass of the best wine he could afford. The type to kiss in the rain, if he had the chance.

You open your mouth in protest, the smell of the cheesy pasta dish wafting around the kitchen. “The dinner–”

“Dance with me.” Tom all but smiles, words slipping from his mouth with such ease and suddenly you’re putty in the palm of his hand. And you don’t hesitate to mould into his body, allowing yourself to fall into him.

“Why did you want to dance with me?” You chuckle, leaning your head against him. You give in, allowing Tom to take you wherever he wants to go. That seemed to be nowhere and you find yourself swaying gently in the comfort of the area between the kitchen and the living room.

Tom shrugs his shoulders. “Jus’ felt like it.”

You hum, breathing in the scent of his cologne. You’d learnt that it was some kind of axe spray that he had cans of hidden around the apartment – such as in the kitchen cupboards and tucked away in his car. The song finishes and a new one begins, one Tom wasn’t aware of but the last thing he wants to do is complain about the pre-nineties tune when he has you right there, humming gently along with the lyrics.

Your eyes are closed and you look at peace as he rocks you two back and forth, feet both stuck to the floor as you sway. 

His heart beats prominently in his chest and it’s nearly impossible not to count every beat. Every beat tells you that he’s there with you, reminding you of the fact that you’re beyond lucky to have him. And funny enough, Tom was thinking the same about you. 

Your peace is short-lived, however, as mere minutes later there’s a horrid – god awful smell and you can’t even hide your disgust with your face in his chest.

“What’s that smell?” Tom mumbles, screwing his nose up.

And you want to ask the same question – before you gasp, eyes widening and you push yourself away from Tom making him stumble back slightly. For a few moments, the brunette stands in confusion before he himself is hit with the realisation.

“The food, Tom, we burnt it!” You exclaim, rushing to the oven. You hardly have time to slip the oven mitt over your hands but that doesn’t matter – because the second you open the oven door black smoke drifts out, flooding the kitchen. “Fuck, I told you we were going to burn it.” You curse under your breath, resisting the urge to cough as you turn the oven off.

“Sorry, love,” Tom says half-heartedly, resisting the urge to laugh at the sight of you looking so frantic. If it weren’t for the clouds of smoke painting your kitchen darker hues of grey then he would’ve laughed. Surely. “Got too distracted, maybe next time I’ll listen.”

He was distracted by your humming, and thoughts he couldn't simply shove away such as the thought that you fit against him so easily. Like two pieces of a wazzgij puzzle. 

“Maybe,” You taunt, bringing the meal out of the oven. It didn't take a second opinion to tell that it belonged in the bin, right ontop of the expired cat food. “Should we just order pizza?” You speak between coughs.

You continue to wave the towel around the living room, praying the smoke detectors won’t go off again. Toms antics had already set the alarms off once, nearly three months ago now and he seemed to be the only one in the entire evacuated building that found it amusing. He had stifled his chuckles in the rain, cheeks tinted red and hair flat against his forehead.

But now, the room stunk. The smell makes you screw your face up in disgust. That was definitely going to be the last time you were going to attempt to make a fancy meal.

“Pizza sounds good.” Tom agrees, feeling his stomach begin to rumble. And to think, the smell of the charcoal lasagna stole his appetite for a solid minute. “I’ll see to it, can I use your laptop?”

“Yeah, it’s sitting on the couch, I think.” You speak, raising your voice so he can hear from the living room. “Get me the cheesy one with the stuffed crust! That’s my favourite.”

“I already knew that,” Tom calls back, typing in the six letter password. “Dominos or pizza hut?” He asks, looking up briefly.

You’re humming a song in the kitchen, competing with the buzzing fridge but Tom can make out the lyrics to Hey Jude by the Beatles. The smell of the burnt lasagne barely bothers you anymore as you sway your hips to the song playing through the speakers and your lips. He smiles to himself, watching you prance carelessly around the kitchen with a flannel shirt pulled over you, tucked into a pair of denim shorts. Laptop and rumbling stomach forgotten, his eyes sparkle with joy at the sight.

He makes a small note to let you play your music more often, even if it wasn’t his favourite – because the light that adorns your eyes is simply captivating. He’s stuck in the best kind of trance.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid You were made to go out and get her

“Dominos. Pizza hut is nowhere near as good.” You tell him, testing the water with your fingertips. You wince when it’s too hot, pulling your hand to your chest and decide that the awaiting dishes can simmer a little longer. Tom grimaces and looks back at the screen. There’s a picture of you and Laura taken last summer, wearing matching dresses and oversized sunglasses hugging your noses. He can’t remember if he took that photo – it may have been Harrison.

That was the same holiday that the set of you took a road trip and found yourselves renting a caravan and setting it up next to the beach. Mornings were spent sleeping in – or for you and Tom, hiding beneath the sheets with childish grins on your faces while your friends slept and nights were spent sitting by the ocean, threatening to push one another in and sharing chicken and vegetable kebabs.

The minute you let her under your skin Then you begin to make it better

You were getting under his skin, making your way into his heart and you were yet to realise it. That had happened long before your holiday trip. But he liked it. He liked the way your mere presence could make him feel like he was on top of the world and somehow – somehow, the glint in your eyes reminded him of the stars that he could and would stare at endlessly every night before bed.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

“So cheese with a stuffed crust and Hawaiian for me?” He finds himself asking, cursor hovering over the ‘add to cart’ button. He was thankful for twenty-four seven delivery – a new addition that he often found himself succumbing too at one am. Maybe it was becoming a bad habit but he couldn’t say no. His self-control was discarded in the am.

“Garlic bread too.” You remind him, dipping your hand into the soapy water. Suds end where your wrist begins.

Tom directs the mouse over to the tabs, squinting his eyes at the bright light and nothing can stop him from pressing the extra tab, his pure curiosity overriding the fact that the two of you had an unspoken rule about invading the other's privacy. But he couldn’t stop himself when the eight letter word caught his eyes.

It started with an A and ended in N. The second letter was D, third O.

Tom bites his lip, switching tabs and silently deciding that the pizza can wait another moment.

‘Looking at adoption. Things you must know.’ ‘Adoption agencies UK.’

You know when people say that they felt their breathing stop? well, Tom did then – for sure. There’s also the feeling of his heart dropping out of his chest, plummeting into his chest.

One second it’s there, beating, pumping blood throughout his body and the next he’s stuck staring. Unmoving. There are not enough words in the human language to describe the confusion Tom experiences as he tries to read the page with hazy eyes.

There’s a feeling of disbelief because Tom swore you wanted this as badly as he did – maybe not at first, but maybe the excitement hit after the first ultrasound. Or maybe it was when he dreamt about taking his little girl to the beach for the first time or coming home to a chorus of soft, baby giggles.

Toms had photos of outfit ideas for his little one already. He had a Pinterest board of parenting tips and had even started listing a couple of names. He liked Emilia for a girl and Sutton for a boy. Marlowe was on the list too, and Starlette. Harrison had suggested Luna and his mother had suggested Max. Maybe he’d fallen too deep into his own world and forgotten that you had your own.

The song finishes, the soothing voice of the Beatles fading out slowly. Just slow enough for your humming to fade out with it, and you look over to see your best friend unmoving in his spot and while you can only see him from the side on, you notice his hand, stiff over the cursor. Suddenly the burnt lasagna and boiling sink seems unimportant.

“Tom?” You prompt, stepping around the kitchen table. Bubbles drip off of your hand and land on the floorboards, a safety risk you’d remember to look at later.

He blinks once before scrolling, seeing a series of previously opened articles and his heart succumbs to nothing but broken, confused pieces.

“What’s this?”

He picks up the laptop and shows you what’s on the screen and you tense. Be it from frustration because he invaded your privacy or the fact that you’d been caught – the bench suddenly seems so cold beneath tense fingers.

“Why are you looking through my stuff–” You snap, biting into your gum to keep you from going off at him.

He grits his teeth, placing the computer down on the table and stands up. He’s tense, clearly, and knuckles are clenched at his side with so much might. Tom rarely got angry, in fact, he hardly ever found himself fuming but here he was. And here you were a mere few meters away.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Tom,” You sigh, letting out a breathe as tears glisten in his eyes. Tom looked a good concoction of angry and deflated. Shocked too. “Of course I was going to tell you but I just needed… I needed more time to wrap my mind about this entire thing.”

“Were you going to tell me?” He asks again, only this time the words are more muffled and less coherent then before.

A sigh leaves your lips. One that said more then words could. On one hand, you want to run into his arms and mutter apologies – admittedly Tom looked really cosy right now. You’d much rather be bundled up in his arms, a warm blanket thrown over your shoulders then argue with him. But you also know that you need to stand up for yourself and what you were doing.

“You were so excited. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“You can’t just… you can’t just consider other options and not tell me, not when you were so ready to go through with this.” He struggles to form words, finding that everything he wanted to say he probably shouldn’t.

The pets seemed to be completely unaware of what was happening. Both lay still, the cat purring softly against Tessa as if using her as a pillow. Much like Tom did when he was sleeping, Tess snores lightly. You and Tom both secretly wish that you could be as chilled as your pets, but don’t voice your thoughts.

It’s crazy that – how everything can fall apart so suddenly. One second you’re laughing over burnt lasagna, praying that the smoke detector won’t blare at any moment and arguing over what takeouts you’ll get instead because neither are you are decent cooks and the next you’re admitting that you probably tested your trust. And that now there may not be much to rebuild.

Swallowing back your nerves, you clench your fists at your side. “Don’t tell me not to consider other options. You don’t get to tell me not to do that.”

“But that baby is mine too,” Tom was seething with anger and you were about to collapse from feeling all too many things at once. You’d gone from a giggling mess to outright fearful of losing everything you’d built. “We’re in this together, remember that? We both agreed on that.” Tom lets out a shaky breath.

“We are in this together but we need to look at the fact that we do have other options too–”

Tom interrupts you abruptly. “You moved in here so that we could look after our baby together! I asked you to move in here to make things easier, that’s what we agreed on, was it not?”

“You asked me to move in because you wanted me closer in case anything happened to me or the baby while he or she is still inside me.” You correct, practically seething with frustration as he speaks. Every word made you feel smaller then the last. “This doesn’t mean that I don’t love the baby, Tom, of course not. How could I not love him? I’ve been tracking the growth, watching for signs that something could be wrong. Shit, I’ve been doing what I can, when I can.”

For a few moments, your words simmer in silence – at least what silence was possible overtop of the radio which played another one of your songs, only quieter this time and you weren’t in the mood to hum.

Tom was too busy trying to come up with the best thing to say but all he could come up with was eight words.

“I won’t let you give up our baby up,” Tom says, quietly but harshly. Bitterness laces every word, dripping from his lips like venom and you’re more then aware of it – as well as the fact that Tom had never spoken to you in that tone before and you were more then sure that you didn’t like it.

Our baby.

“We need to talk about this properly.” You try, far from fed up over arguing like children.

Tom agrees, but he can’t see much beyond the feeling of betrayal. If he could even call it that.

“I thought you wanted this, you know? You led me to believe that you wanted this and you were going behind my back–”

“You think I want to give the baby up? You think it doesn’t break my heart to consider other options?” You speak up, the urge to breakdown growing stronger. But you wouldn’t in front of him. “Jesus, Tom, we told your parents about the baby and they embraced us with open arms and promised to do what they could. We told mine and they walked out. I’ve texted my mum every day but I’ve heard nothing. I want my family back.”

“I think that you’re being selfish.”

You scoff. 

“Did you really just go there?” He doesn’t respond, swimming in his own guilt. “I’m not selfish for considering other options when I’ve given up so much already and if you can’t support me then so be it… but don’t tell me that I don’t have other choices here.”

Tom doesn’t know what else to say. He feels frozen in his spot, trying to take in and accept every word that falls from your lips but he can’t find it in him to respond. The sickly smell of burnt lasagna was long forgotten by either of you, as was his hunger that had since subside and was replaced by an overwhelming amount of frustration.

You, on the other hand, want to yell at him for not answering you. You want to demand an answer because the silence was deafening and you just needed an apology or at least the knowledge that you can talk about this with him instead of yelling and having to defend your side.

Gritting your teeth, you pick up the nearest coat which happened to be strewn over the chair and wrap it around you, then going back to the kitchen counter where you hastily grab your phone and car keys. The gentle jingling of the keys snaps Tom out of whatever haze he was in.

“I’m leaving, Tom, call me when you actually want to talk like adults – like two adults who are supposed to be bringing a baby into the world.” You spit, missing the remorse that crosses his face at lightning speed.

“Don’t go, we need to talk about this.” He extends an arm and tries to grab yours and for a second, he succeeds, right before you tug yourself from his grasp and glare.

“Why? So we can continue to argue?” You stop, waiting for Tom to answer but he doesn’t. He knows you’re right. “I don’t want to have this conversation like this and I won’t be made to feel like the bad guy when you refuse to even hear me out without losing your temper.”

A large part of you wants him to tell you not to leave, to say that you can sort this out in the morning when you’re both not angry about the invasion of privacy and about him getting mad at you for considering other options and additionally, for calling you selfish. And then maybe you’d apologise for not telling him.

Admittedly, you could admit your mistakes.

And if Tom told you again not to leave, then maybe you wouldn’t have stormed out of the apartment but instead to your bedroom where you’d stay until dusk. Then, you’d creep into his room and you’d discuss this when you were both calm and steam – highlighting your anger, wasn’t making its way out of your ears.

Tom is left in the apartment. He couldn’t necessarily say that he was by himself because he had Oscar and he had Tessa. And it’s Oscar that crawls onto his lap when he throws himself down onto the couch, head in his hands as he runs over every word thrown across the living room to the kitchen.

The cat brushes himself up against Tom, begging the man for a head rub and Tom does so without complaint – hand falling to the cats head. Usually, he would’ve grumbled about the cat... shoved him off and groaned but this time Tom gives in. 

Maybe it’s the guilt that suddenly turns him into a temporary cat person.

“She’ll come back, Osc,” Tom says, more or less trying to reassure himself then the cat. “She’s just going to Laura's for a bit.”

He chews on his bottom lip, fingers running through ginger fur.

You were going to come back. And until then, Tom would grovel.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad Take a sad song and make it better

Let’s talk about this chapter!

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[elo-kodon]

Untitled Iwaoi Short Story #1

(Part 1 here)                             

                                                        PART 2

           “That was such a great dinner, Auntie! I’m completely stuffed, right Iwa-chan?” Oikawa exclaims happily, his voice carrying through the small house in bright, musical tones.

           Iwaizumi receives a short but painful jab to his side with Oikawa’s elbow. The movement almost makes him drop the dinner plate he’s scrubbing into the soapy water. He gives Oikawa a short, annoyed look before responding. “Yes, thanks so much!” he calls out hurriedly.

           “Ohh it was no trouble at all boys,” Oikawa’s aunt says, gracefully gliding down the stairs in her long, summery-red pleated skirt.

           Once Iwaizumi had met Oikawa’s aunt, her sophisticated and bubbly personality was one of the first things he noticed about her. She gave the boys a warm hug, welcomed them in, and immediately turned to Iwaizumi. “Now Iwaizumi dear, let’s do away with the formalities for now. Why don’t you just call me Hisako? Goodness knows all my colleagues already do.” Hisako waved her left hand air in a quick flourish and lead the boys into her house. She showed Oikawa and Iwaizumi to their room upstairs. “I’ll leave you two to unpack for a while. I’ve got to head back downstairs to finish up dinner. Feel free to join me whenever you boys are ready to eat!”

           “She’s great, isn’t she?” Oikawa threw his duffel bag onto the ground, turning back to Iwaizumi proudly, “Mom says she’s a spitfire, but I like her a lot! She’s always been there for me, ya know?”

           Iwaizumi considers Oikawa’s past words as he continues to work on the last of the dinner plates. It’s no surprise that Oikawa would like her. Hisako had a lot of qualities that reminded him of his best friend. Their determined attitudes and boundless energy were practically the same. No wonder Oikawa was so excited to make the trip up here.

           Hisako calls out from the other room. “If you two are about done with the dishes, would you mind meeting me in the living room in a bit? I’d love to show you a few of my designs for the show on Sunday. Tooru, you also need to hear the rundown of the itinerary so you know what to expect.”

           Once the boys get done cleaning up, they join Hisako on her pink and blue floral patterned couch. It’s a cozy fit with all three of them, Hisako on the far left, Iwaizumi on the far right, and Oikawa snugly in the middle.

           Tucking a loose strand her wavy black hair behind her ear, Hisako reaches down to the side of the couch, picks up a thick shiny black binder and hands it to Oikawa to open. He carefully takes the huge binder from her and opens to one of the first tabbed pages.

           “So for this particular show, since it’s still only my second one, I really wanted to focus on kids’ streetwear. I’ve noticed that a lot of students like to have clothing that’s still modern and practical, but also wear things that fit to their own unique sense of style…”

           They spend the next half hour pouring through the thick and colorful pages of Hisako’s designs. Oikawa listens with keen interest as his aunt talks to them about her ideas and underlying concepts with model’s outfit. It seems like with each particular outfit and pattern, Hisako has a wonderful remark or funny story to recount on each model.

           “You see now why I wanted you to join me on this project Oikawa? I really need students with strong personalities, since the show’s main concept is based around stories of youth. So, this is where you come in…”

            Oikawa lounges back while he listens to his aunt talk about what she has planned for his design. He loves hearing about Hisako’s stories and inspiration behind everything, but he can’t help but wonder if Iwaizumi is starting to feel a little left out. Carefully, out of the corner of his eye, he slowly and surreptitiously directs his gaze to Iwaizumi. With Hisako’s voice still in the background, he puts his hearing on autopilot for a few moments while he stares at his best friend.

           Iwaizumi has his knees brought up to his chest, his hands wrapped around them as he gazes down at the sketch of Oikawa’s proposed design for the show. Oikawa’s breath hitches softly as he scans Iwaizumi’s face. There’s a fondness to the boy’s dark eyes, his lips are slightly pursed. It reminds Oikawa of how Iwaizumi used to look at him when they were children. But there’s also something else to it… With a confused realization, it dawns on him. Iwaizumi looks like he’s concentrating on something. Like he’s drinking in the design on Hisako’s drawing, trying to memorize the curve of each pencil marking, of each splotch of color on the roughly sketched pattern. Iwaizumi’s left hand reaches down to feel the small piece of fabric stapled onto the bottom right corner of the page. Oikawa catches his eye once Iwaizumi turns to pretend to look at Hisako.

           Iwaizumi locks the back of his jaw once he realizes Oikawa’s caught him staring. The pair lock eyes for a second. The light brown irises of Oikawa fixate on his own, like a curious tiger pup. Iwaizumi ducks his head down towards his lap, knowing that the heat traveling up his neck and onto his cheeks are definitely noticeable. “Stupid idiot…” he thinks.

           Goosebumps appear on Oikawa arms as he slowly averts his eyes. “Weird…Why did Hajime blush just now?”

           Guess he’d have to tackle that question later.

———————————————————————————————————

                                                       *Saturday*

           “Here you go!” Hisako sings out, beaming down at Iwaizumi and Oikawa, setting down a plate of pancakes and two tall glasses of strawberry-and-kewi smoothies in front of them. “Now, Tooru, dear, just so you know, I’m gonna be out at the office in town for the majority of this afternoon and the evening, so you’ll have to be in charge of making sure this young man,” she gestures to Iwaizumi, “gets fed a good dinner, okay? There’s a nice little market about a few miles still outside of town that you two can drive over to pick up whatever you’d like. I’d make dinner for you both but I need to stay late at the studio tonight so we can finish paperwork and make any last minute adjustments before the show tomorrow.”

           Oikawa nods eagerly and salutes his aunt, “Of course Auntie, you can count on me! Can’t wait to see my outfit in person tomorrow, I bet it’ll make all the girls swoon!”

           Hisako lets out a sparkling laugh, “Oh, I’m sure, Tooru.” She puts her breakfast dish in the sink, walking over to the front door to grab her sweater and her large canvas bag. “Hope you two have fun hanging out today! There’s a great beach nearby that you boys should go to if you have the time. I’ve got to run, take care now!” Iwaizumi and Oikawa hear the final few clacks of her shoes as she shuts the screen door behind her and walks down the steps of the front porch towards her car. They hear her engine start and then she’s off.

           “God, you really are a putz” mutters Iwaizumi, lightly smacking the back of Tooru’s head.

           “Not my fault you don’t know how to talk to women, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says as he attempts to dodge Iwazumi, but ultimately failing.

           Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and gets up from his chair. He didn’t feel like bickering with Oikawa today. He was in too good of a mood, plus he really wanted to go somewhere with Oikawa to play volleyball anyways.

           “Sooooo Iwa-channn what’s on the agenda for today?” Oikawa asks. He stands up from his chair and stretches out his tall torso, his arms almost touching the bottom of the fan in the kitchen.

           “Wanna do a practice match somewhere?”

           “Hmmm. Yes, but I also wanted to check out that beach Auntie mentioned. Not like we really have a beach back home.”

           “Why don’t we do both? We can set up a court once we find a good spot.” Iwaizumi suggested.

           “Ohhh a beach match? You’re on, mothman.”

           Iwaizumi lets out a small, soft “Dumbass” under his breath, then quickly runs up the stairs to grab their duffels, Oikawa slowly following up after him.

———————————————————————————————————-

           Oikawa’s high-pitched falsetto voice pierces Iwaizumi’s ears while he tries to keep concentrating on the winding road in front of him. He sings out another lyric of the weird country song that they happened to discover on the local radio a few minutes ago.

           “Joooooooooooleeeenne, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Puh-LEASE don’t take my maaannn. Even though you totally caaannn-“ Oikawa drawls out in a feminine, old-lady voice, intentionally fucking up the lyrics.

           Iwaizumi lets out another round of loud barking laughter. He forgot how genuinely funny Oikawa can be once he lets his guard down. But that usually only happens when it’s just the two of them together. He scrunches up his eyes, tears of laughter pricking at the outer edges of his eyelids. He’s laughing and smiling so much that his jaw is starting to get sore. “S-stop it you bastard, you’re gonna make me crash this damn car.”

           Oikawa grins over at Iwaizumi, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He turns back forward and smiles quickly to himself. He absolutely loves Iwaizumi’s laugh. The sound never gets old. “Damn, what a stupid song. Who the fuck is Jolene??”

           “I don’t-“ Iwaizumi tries to respond but is stopped by another round of laughter. “I don’t know man, but she’s got some issues apparently. I feel kind of bad for her, honestly.”

           “Eh, not bad enough,” Oikawa grins. “Since when does Japan have American country stations? Is this a new fad or some shit?”

           “I have no idea.”

           “Oh, Iwa-chan, there’s the turn up ahead!” Oikawa says hurriedly, leaning forward in his seat.

           Iwaizumi turns off the main route onto another small, dusty dirt road. As they make a couple more turns, the truck spits up dust.

           “Oh wow, is this sand?” Oikawa tries to squint through the yellowish haze.

           “I guess so. We must be close.”

           They head around a row of trees and then make one final turn. Iwaizumi parks in one of the faded parking spots, then kills the engine. It doesn’t take too long to unpack the bed of the truck. With both duffel bags slung around Iwaizumi and Oikawa carrying the net bag, they walk down a sandy path to the beach below.

           They find a good, flat area of sand and throw down their bags. Iwaizumi sets up the volleyball net while Oikawa takes off his flip flops. He unpacks the volleyballs, water bottles, and snacks.

           “Hey, ‘kawa, the net’s done.”

           “Lit.”

           Iwaizumi throws the net bag down near the duffels and Oikawa takes a couple minutes to mark the edges of each side of the court using a stick. He squints at the line on each side, then runs over to the other side to check the dimensions.

           “It’s fine, Oikawa. Let’s play already.” Iwaizumi drawls.

           “Fine, fine.” Oikawa takes his sunglasses off and perches them neatly in his hair. He picks a light blue volleyball up from the ground and walks onto his side of the court. Iwaizumi’s already on his side, hands on his knees, ready for Oikawa to start. Using only one hand, Oikawa swiftly throws the ball high up in the air. “You know I’m totally gonna win this match, right?”

           Iwaizumi snorts and smirks at Oikawa through the holes of the net. “Not on your life, pretty boy.”

———————————————————————————————————-

           Soaring through the air over the net, the small blue volleyball heads toward Iwaizumi’s side of the court. With the quickness of a puma and the grace of a warrior, the spiky-haired male crouches down and receives the ball. The volleyball bounces back upwards, over Iwaizumi’s head and the boy looks up. He ends up timing the comedown of the ball perfectly, executing a three step approach. Calf muscles tensing, Iwaizumi swings his arms back and jumps up in the air. With a look of fierceness set in his face, eyes gleaming, his right arm whips forward and sends the ball flying straight down towards Oikawa’s side.

           Oikawa dives forward and manages to keep the ball up, but only enough to the point where it flys forward underneath the net. His sunglasses fall down crookedly onto the bridge of his nose. He groans. He almost got a mouthful of sand from this last one.

           Iwaizumi lets out a snicker, “What was that about beating me again?” He grins, watching Oikawa pick his lanky frame up off the sand.

           Dammit. Oikawa was sure his past spike wouldn’t turn into a chance ball, but somehow Iwaizumi managed to receive and turn it into a downward attack. He watches Iwaizumi take off his shirt through the lenses of his sunglasses. Iwaizumi grabs his water bottle and takes a long drink of water, his other hand resting on his hip.

           What a cocky bastard. Oikawa mentally convinces himself that he’s not taking this moment to run his eyes down the frame of Iwaizumi’s body. Nope. Definitely not taking in his wonderful, tan shoulders, and his stocky biceps, and of course that stupid lovely six pack- Wait what the hell? When did Iwa-chan get so buff??  Has he been doing extra strength training on the side or something?

           “Ready to get your ass whooped again, Shittykawa?” calls out Iwaizumi.

           Oikawa dusts the sand off his knees, sweat dripping down his bangs into his face. He takes a few ragged breaths. “You fuckin wish, biiiitttcchh.”

           Iwaizumi is about to make a retort when he notices Oikawa’s fast panting, his chest heaving in and out to try and steady his breathing back to normal. His hair is drenched, his shirt covered in sweat. Oikawa glances down worriedly at the wrap on his knee, reminding Iwaizumi of his past injury. He hastily looks at his watch.

           “On second thought, you look pretty tired, Tooru. It’s getting close to dinnertime anyways. Let’s call it a match and pack up, yeah?”

           Oikawa lets out an annoyed huff but then concedes.

———————————————————————————————————–

           They arrive back home, laughing about another funny joke Oikawa said when they were on the road. Iwaizumi and Oikawa tramp up the porch steps and through the screen door, both letting out relaxed sighs when the air conditioning hits them. They head towards the kitchen counter. Iwaizumi turns around and tosses his water bottle quickly to Oikawa, Oikawa wordlessly catching it in his hand.

           “Take this back up to the room, then we can go to the market and get some food. I’ll make dinner tonight if you want.”

           “Uh…sure Iwa-chan.” He replies, hurrying up the stairs in a daze.

           He sets both he and Iwaizumi’s water bottles on top of the dresser in their room. He takes a minute for himself, grabbing a towel and running it through his locks of hair to get the sweat out. He’s about to head out of the room when his eyes naturally find their gaze to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. He walks closer to his reflection, placing the towel around his neck.

           Oikawa inspects his appearance in the mirror. Eyebrows knitted together, he turns his face to either side, looking at his cheekbones. His wide, almond shaped brown eyes. His thin lips, still nicely rounded out for a guy’s mouth. He had okay teeth, straight and not too big.

           “Iwa-chan’s still prettier though,” he thought.

           He shakes his head, trying to regain focus. Bounding down the stairs to meet Iwaizumi, he realizes he left his flips flops somewhere in the living room.

           “Almost done Oikawa? I’m starving, we should head out now.” Iwaizumi calls from the kitchen.

           “One second!” Oikawa answers. He’s slipping his toes through his sandals he found underneath the coffee table when something black and shiny catches his eye. “Auntie’s binder?”

           He reaches over and slowly slides the binder towards him. He opens to a random tab and somehow manages to get to the exact design that’s supposed to be what he’s wearing for the show tomorrow. Running his fingertips over the drawing of his figure, it finally dawns on him. His eyes widen and snap up from the book. “I’ve figured it out! I know what I need to do!”

           “Seriously Shittykawa let’s-,” Iwaizumi walks over and stops to see Oikawa staring at the designs, “go…”

           Oikawa quickly looks up at him from his sitting position on the floor. “Oh Iwa-chan, uh-“ Iwaizumi notices his eyes flit away from him for a couple of seconds. It looks like he’s trying to come up with something to say. “Right, about dinner…uh, could you go on without me? I uh, have a stomach ache. I’ll just stay here. Pick out whatever, okay?”

           His wide orbs stare up at him nervously and Iwaizumi knows he made that last part up. “Sure….if that’s what you want…” he narrows his eyes at Oikawa. He just knows the little shit’s up to something.

           “It is, now please goooo Iwa-chaaann. Out, out, out!” Oikawa pushes him happily out the door, tossing his truck keys to him.

           When Iwaizumi’s finally gone, Oikawa sighs heavily and looks up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was already 5pm. He does some quick math in his head, trying to see if he has enough time to leave and come back before Iwaizumi gets back home. It would probably take Iwaizumi about 20 minutes or so to get to the market Hisako had told them about.

           “There’s no way I can make it all the way into town and back without the chance of Iwa-chan knowing I was gone. Hm. Unless….yes of course! I’ll use that shortcut!”

           He grabs the house keys, changes into his running shoes, and sprints out the door. Instead of running alongside the road all the way into town like he usually would, he hops a small fence and takes a shortcut through the neighbor’s small forest. He ends up running through a wide barley field, the sun beating down on him in waves and his body starting to get sweaty all over again. The leaves of the plants in the field scrape against his calves but Tooru pays it no mind. He makes his way down to a large road on the corner of town. Once he crosses one of the main roads, he’s able to slip behind the main buildings and into a suburb which he knows will lead him to where he needs to be.

           He passes the last house in the long, narrow neighborhood street and makes another turn, leading to a small set of offices. He runs through the bronze double doors and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor, leaning back against the wall of the elevator to finally catch his breath. The door opens to a bright white hallway, giant black and white photos of models striking dramatic poses in different outfits line the walls. He gets to the end of the hallway and fast-walks into his aunt’s studio space. He scans the area and spots Hisako standing near her desk with two colleagues, leaning down and pointing to a areas on a printed photo with her pen.

           “Oh, Oikawa dear, I’m quite surprised to see you here. Where’s your friend, Hajime?” she asks curiously.

           Oikawa takes a deep breath, wringing his hands in front of him. “Yeah, about Iwa-chan… Auntie, I need you to help me out with a huge favor.”

———————————————————————————————————-

A/N: wooww wonder what happens next?? Yeah I meant to post this way earlier today since I was hella excited about it and I had already typed out the outline for this part but it ended up being pretty long lol. Anyways, thanks for reading, if you like the story so far let me know by liking and commenting on it! I’d love to hear what you think! Also stay tuned for Part 3 where we finally get to the day of the fashion show! 

Also if anyone knows how to get a quick AO3 invite/account set up, let me know. I’d love to be able to post this to that site as well. Thanks so much for all your likes and support for my first ever haikyuu fic!

-Elo

[borhapparker]

sheer heart attack  |  chapter two

summary: you are the instructor for ‘bohemian rhapsody’, getting paid to teach the cast how to play their respective instruments. from an early age, youve known how to play the piano, the drums, the bass and the electric/acoustic guitar. forming a tight bond with rami, gwilym, ben and joe, all of you would hang out im each other’s trailers, creating a lasting friendship between all of you. this causes the ripple of them wanting you to be in all the interviews possible during the press tours, even if you werent on the list for interviews, which caused for some buried secrets to come to life and some crushes to be revealed.

word count: 3.1k

pairing: none just yet!

fic masterlist    |    playlist (apple music / spotify)

The next morning was eventful, as you woke up to your phone buzzing at the sound of a call. Feeling the nightstand blindly for your phone, you quickly disconnected it, and answered, bringing the phone to your ear.

"Hello?" your voice cracked, since you've just woken up.

"Y/n? Where are you?" Ryan, your producer said, as you slowly sat up, the phone still pressed to your ear, as you looked at the clock: 6:30am.

"I was asleep? Why? I'm supposed to come in to the studio in an hour." you said, a yawn escaping your lips as you finished your sentence.

"Well, we need you in a half hour. We have an artist willing to collaborate. Remember when we talked about this a couple months ago?"

"Mhm. So he's willing to come in as well? So we can record today before I have rehearsals for my upcoming project?" you asked, slowly getting out of bed, and heading to the kitchen.

"Yeah, he'll be here at the recording studio in a half hour. Can you be here?" you listened, as you made your coffee, and headed back to your room, mug in hand.

"I can be there. How long will this take?"

"Well, we're hoping we can record at least two to three songs today before your rehearsals, so from seven to nine thirty would be ideal, but we'll see. Depends on what we might have come up, if we can get the band in, and if our collaborator comes in on time as well. I'll see you here in a half hour. Drive safely, I know you when you're half asleep." he laughed, as you chuckled, before smiling, setting your mug down on the nightstand.

"I will. I'll see you." hanging up, you headed to the closet, grabbing a change of clothes before heading to the shower and warming up the water while you stripped.

Taking a quick 8 minute shower, you turned off the water, before grabbing your towel, drying yourself off and slipping on your clothes. You opened the cabinet, grabbing your hair products and applying them before turning off the light in the bathroom and heading out. Slipping on your black vans, you grabbed your mug, backpack, and your phone from the nightstand before walking out of your room and finishing your coffee. Passing the kitchen, you placed the empty mug in the sink, grabbing your car keys from the kitchen island and heading out the door. Locking it behind you, the sun kissed your skin as you walked to your car, the warmth of the LA weather bringing you a sense of comfort and peace that had been absent during the rainy days. Unlocking the car, you stepped in, placing your backpack on the seat and closing the door, before turning on the ignition and driving out of your driveway and towards the recording studio.

The parking lot was half full, spot closest to the entrance was free, and you parked your car there, before stepping out, and heading inside. Ryan met you at the door, giving you a hug before leading you straight into the recording booth. Walking inside, the artist who was collaborating with you had their back to the door, as you recognized their hair and smiled. Upon hearing footsteps coming inside the booth, everyone turned, small cheers coming from your friends and people you'd talked to during your time as an artist.

"Hey, look who's here!" your manager called out as she came up to hug you, a smile on your face as the artist turned.

"Y/n, so nice to finally meet you. Niall Horan, at your service." he held out his hand, shaking yours as you smiled.

"Nice to finally meet you. I've been a fan for a long time. Thanks for agreeing to collaborate!"

He shrugged, a smile on his face. "Couldn't pass up the opportunity to work with a great singer and guitar player." he turned to your manager, before turning back to you. "Ready to start?"

You nodded, smile on your face as you put your backpack down in the booth, taking out the lyrics you had printed out the night before, wanting to have them ready as you gave Niall his copy.

"Here's yours. It's the newest updated version." you said as he nodded, scanning the lyrics, and mumbling the beat to himself. Turning back to you, he followed you inside the booth, slipping on his own headphones and standing behind his own mic as you did the same, behind another glass door, headphones over your own ears and standing behind the other microphone.

With a final nod from you manager behind the glass, the music started, as both you and Niall began to sing the first lyrics to the song.

-

The cast had arrived at the studio a half hour before you were due to meet with them, as they walked inside and met with the receptionist.

"We're here for rehearsals with Y/n. 10am." she nodded, before picking up her phone and dialing. She hung up and turned to them.

"She's still recording. Would you like to go see her?" they nodded, as she motioned for them to follow her. She led them to a room, much like a recording booth, as she knocked before opening the door and letting them in.

Your manager smiled at them, motioning for them to look over at the far right, as they turned, noticing you, headphones on and eyes closed. The music stopped, as the manager went over to the microphone in the booth. "Y/n?"

You opened your eyes, looking up, and noticing the cast. Smiling, you waved at them. "Yeah?"

"Try it again. Cut off that last verse, and bring it in a 180 when you do your falsettos." you nodded once more before putting a thumbs up and the music started once more.

Your voice rung through the booth, as the music followed your beat, before you cut it short and made the casts' eyes widen, your falsettos bouncing through the speakers. Your manager did a thumbs up, as they heard another voice come in through the speakers and looked to your left, noticing another famous singer following your lead on the bridge of the song.

The cast watched with smiles on their faces and impressed looks, as your voices combined together, mixing with the music and creating a beautiful harmony. The song was stopped, as you both removed your headphones and headed out of the recording booth. Both of you took a listen to the song, before you shook your head, wanting to record the guitar solo once more.

"Hey, Gwilym, you know how to play guitar, right?" you turned to him, as he nodded, a smile on his own face. "Would you mind playing it for the song?"

He nodded, before being directed inside the recording booth, handing him your guitar as he sat down, looking at the sheet of paper with the chords and speed. "At what beat should I play at?" you tapped her foot to the beat as he memorized it, and with a final nod, you walked out of the booth, closing the door and starting the music. He positioned his fingers over the fret board, before strumming the chords, his face twisting in concentration as his lips pulled into a smile. You pushed on a button, as the guitar solo was amplified, the chords ringing through the speakers and into everyones ears. As soon as it began, he finished the solo, as you stopped the track, nodding at him with a smile.

He placed the guitar down before walking out with a smile on his face. "That was incredible." he said, as you smiled, wrapping him in a hug and thanking him.

"You did perfectly! Definitely made the song a lot better than I could've made it. Thank you!" you said, as he only nodded, joining the rest of the cast as your manager finished jotting down some notes for herself later, before nodding at you. "Alright, we're done here now. We can head over for rehearsal."

They all nodded and walked with you, heading into another room with various instruments. "Alright boys, choose your pick."

Gwilym and Joe headed immediately to the bass and electric guitars, choosing their favorites as Rami walked to the piano and Ben to the drums. They each grabbed a different instrument, as you headed to the corner of the room, grabbing your own guitar and tuning it.

"Alright, everyone sit at your instrument and I'll be there in a bit. I'll start with Joe, then Rami, Ben and finally Gwilym. Just, give me 10 minutes, and I'll be there for you guys." they all nodded, as Joe smiled, his bass guitar in his arms. Sitting in front of him, you grabbed a nearby bass guitar, tuning the strings, before looking up. "You ready?"

He nodded, as you positioned your hands on the D string and 12th fret, before strumming 6 times, and then moving to the A string and strumming once. Joe's face lit up, as he recognized the song. You shrugged, "Well, you gotta start somewhere."

He mimicked your fingers on the fret board of his guitar, as he played. His tempo was a little slow, as you started tapping your foot to the beat, as he matched it, slowly getting the hang of it. You moved your fingers back to the D string, then to the A string. Strumming, you matched his tempo, as he strummed alongside you, a smile on his face at seeing his natural ability to play the bass guitar.

You kept this up, showing him the basics, how to read tabs and chords, as he followed along. "If you need my help, let me know. I'm starting you with something fairly easy, but we'll switch in a while." He nodded, as you propped your guitar, before walking over to the grand piano in the corner of the room. Rami was sitting on the bench, scrolling through his phone as he smiled upon noticing you, slipping his phone into his pocket and making room for you on the bench.

"Alright," you rubbed your hands, turning to look at Rami, "There are 88 keys in total, 52 white keys and 33 black keys. The white keys on the piano are named after seven letters of the alphabet and they're pretty simple to memorize: A, B, C, D, E, F, and G. The only thing to remember is that in the musical alphabet, it always starts with the letter C because it's the most basic note. All the black keys are major or sharp notes. If you look on the sheet," you grabbed the music sheet and showed it to him, pointing out certain notes, "You will see that some notes have a number sign over it, kind of like an exponent. That means that note is a sharp, which means you'll play the black key instead of the white."

Rami nodded along, taking pointers in his head as you kept explaining, before showing him how to play.

"We're going to do a pretty simple song to start with. It's called 'Chopsticks'." you placed your hands on the keys, playing slowly as he followed along. Stopping, you placed your hands on the same keys as you started. "Now, place your hands exactly where mine are."

He did as you said, as you pressed your fingers over his, showing him the rhythm. "As you keep playing and get the hang of it, you start using the pedals on the bottom to either soften your sound or mute it. As you go, you get the hang of it and it comes naturally. So don't stress too much about it." He slowly got the hang of the song, as you removed your hands. "Try it by yourself."

You did a couple different songs with him, as he reassured you that he would keep practicing. Nodding, you got up from the bench, before heading to Ben, who waited patiently by the drums. He spun in a chair, a smile on his face, as he stopped, facing you. "Ready?"

He nodded, and you sat at the drums. Grabbing the sticks, you twirled them between your fingers. Turning, you turned on the metronome behind you, pointing to it and looking at Ben. "This, is a metronome. You probably already heard of this, but since you're starting, we're going to use this to match a beat. I'm gonna drum a pretty simple beat, and I want you to replicate it. It's gonna take a couple times to get it, so don't get frustrated, okay?" he only smiled, as you twirled the drumsticks between your fingers once more before starting the simple beat. You hit the hi-hat on beats 1 through 4, counting out loud. Then, you used the kick drum on beats 1 and 3, as well as the hi-hats at the same time. After a couple beats, you added the snare drum in, hitting them at beats 2 and 4 in addition to both the kick drum and the hi-hats. Ben watched, eyes wide, as he noticed your multitasking ability before you stopped.

"That's a lot." Ben said, as you only laughed.

"It's okay, you'll get used to it. Here, let's switch. Just hit the hi-hats for four beats. Then, we'll keep going." you got up as he sat in the seat you were in. Pointing to the metronome, you turned to him, "Use this as your beat. Listen and follow." He nodded, before mimicking the beat from the metronome you on the hi-hats. Keeping the beat, you asked him to start the kick drum on the first and third beat, letting him get the hang of it. He kept going after a while, before adding in the snare drum. He messed up a couple times, and kept trying, before getting the hang of the simple beat. "Alright, that's good." he stopped, a smile on his face, as you showed him another beat, using the same three drums. "Keep practicing, I'll be back."

Walking over to Gwilym, he looked up, smiling, holding the electric guitar in one hand. "A Gibson Les Paul. Great choice." he shrugged, as you sat in front of him, your own guitar in your arms. "So, you know your basics."

"Been playing for a while. Just need more practice." he said, as you smiled, nodding along.

"Well, Brian's solos in most songs are pretty simple once you get the hang of it and since he doesn't read or write music sheets, we need to play by ear. Any particular song you want to start with?" he shook his head, as you chose a random song off the top of your head. "How about we start with Bohemian Rhapsody? Since it's the main song in the movie." he nodded, "Alright. Follow my lead."

You placed your fingers on the 8th fret on the D string, as Gwilym matched your movements and you strummed, before switching to the G string on the 10th fret and you strummed, bending the string, before switching to the 12th fret and doing the same, then the 10th, 8th, and back to the B string on the 11th fret, 8, 11 with a bend, and 13. You moved quickly, as Gwilym caught up at his pace. Only doing the first couple tabs, you let Gwilym catch up as you strummed at the same time, before you kept playing. The guitar rhythm rung through the entire room as you stopped, and had Gwilym start again from the beginning.

"Nice, nice. That's really good. Here, let's try another song."

The rest of rehearsal was spent equal time with each of the actors, as they practiced their own instruments as well as receiving pointers from you. Three hours later, you asked your manager to order food for all of you. You wanted to make sure the boys were in the correct state for when you had to start filming.

"So, how do you guys feel?" you asked, as you all sat around a table, food on the top and a plate in each of your hands.

"A little sore, but I'm feeling good about where I'm at." Joe said, as you nodded.

"Me too. It's been tough with the drumming, but I'm getting the hang of it." Ben said, the rest only nodding.

"Good, so each of you need to start practicing at home. Listen to the songs, play by ear, look for the music charts and sheets online. If you can't find any, then text me and I'll get them for you. It just takes time and practice." you said, as all of them nodded with a smile. "Alright, who wants to keep going?"

They all nodded, as they finished up eating. Smiling, you headed to the electric guitar, picking yours up and turning on the amp, adjusting the volume from your guitar. "I'll play something for you guys while you finish up." Their eyes were fixed on you as you adjusted the guitar on your lap, before placing your fingers on the B string on the 15th fret, before strumming and releasing, sliding down to the 17th fret and strumming twice then releasing, and moving to 15th, 12th, 15 again with a vibrato. 12th again, moving to the G string on the 15th fret, up to the "e" string on the 12th, G again, 15, 14, 12, 14, 12, D on 14. You placed two fingers on both the G and B string on the 12th fret, strumming with a vibrato on both, then removing one finger and going back to G with 14, 12, up to the A string on the 14th fret, and again with both fingers on G and B on the 12th fret with a vibrato. This kept going on, as they watched, Gwilym and Rami with smiles on their faces as they recognized the song then the others joined in. As you finished the solo of Brighton Rock, you looked up at them, as they clapped for you.

"That was incredible." Joe said, as you shrugged, a smile on your face.

"It was okay, I'm still improving. You guys will be able to play better over the next couple weeks. It just takes practice." you said, as they all headed to their instruments, waiting for you.

"Alright, let's finish up rehearsals. Who's next?" you said with a smile, as they smiled back.

Your eyes scanned the room, choosing Rami to help out first as they rest waited, practicing by themselves.

Yet, a couple minutes ago, while you were playing the guitar, you hadn't noticed their stares. Their lingering eyes, the beating of their hearts, the acceleration of their pulse. The way they watched you with a little something other than a friend's stare, something other than what you had experienced in a while. Something was different about them, change was definitely in the air. But maybe change was a good thing, if it meant that change would include you.

[dresupi]

misguided mojito

Darcy Lewis Crack Challenge 2019 |  Day 10: Mistaken Flirtation | 

Ship: Darcy Lewis/Logan |  Prompt: Day 10: Mistaken Flirtation |  Other Tags: Alternating POV, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Wingman Remy LeBeau, Misunderstandings, comedy of errors, Flirting, Bad Flirting, Alcohol |   Word Count: 1399 |  Rated: T | 

Summary:

Mistaken flirtation. Mistaken everything.  There are seriously so many mistaken interchanges that they have to start canceling each other out, right?

AKA: some of the lyrics to ‘Mr. Jones’ by Counting Crows.

Logan

This wasn’t his scene. He definitely shouldn’t be here. This club was full of neon lights and cushy seats. Women who wouldn’t give him a second glance. Men too. Everything and everyone was so polished and shiny.

And here he was, rough and dirty. Messing up the ambiance.

He should go.

Logan took another sip from his drink and started to leave, but Remy’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going, big guy?”

“Home. To be alone. Like it should be. I’m ruining the mood here.”

“Bullshit. You aren’t ruining anything,” Remy seemed so sure of that.

“These aren’t my kind of people,” Logan insisted.

“You fit right in. You’re dressed like me.” Remy gestured between their black t-shirts. Logan’s a crew cut while Remy’s deep V left little to the imagination.

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m leaving.”

“Just give it a chance to work, Logan. This place always works.”

“Maybe I don’t need it to work, Remy. You ever think about that?” Logan jerked his arm away. “Maybe I’m fine being on my own.”

“No just… wait. Look. That girl? That cute one with the curly hair?”

Logan frowned, glancing around. “Where?”

“There. Between six and seven o’clock. Don’t look directly, just… slowly slide your gaze over that way. You can’t miss her.”

Logan did as Remy directed, his gaze centering on a very attractive woman. Dark curly hair. Big eyes. One of which she was winking at him. She was sipping on a drink with mint sprigs and limes. Probably a mojito, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Should I buy her a drink, do you think?” Logan asked, leaning over towards Remy.

“No. I think you should stare creepily at her until she either calls the cops or maces you.  Yes. Buy her a drink. If she declines, she declines, and I promise you can go home. Just... give it a shot.” Remy was no longer looking at him, but at a rather tall fellow across the room. He towered above the entire crowd with muscles to match. In other words, just Remy’s type. Of course, everyone was Remy’s type, so that wasn’t much of a distinction.

Logan turned around to face the bartender. “Hey, can you send another one of whatever she’s drinking?” he pointed to the woman in question. “The one in the green shirt? With the curls? Put it on my tab.”

“Okay, full disclosure, I didn’t make her first drink, but I’ll call it a mojito,” the bartender said as he reached for the white rum. “If it’s wrong, it’s on me.”

Darcy

Let it be known that Jane and Pepper were idiots when it came to holding their drinks. And lemon drops besides. What was this? Sophomore year in the sorority house?

She sipped at her limey-mint water. It wasn’t a mojito, but apparently, the bartender made a mean virgin-version for the designated drivers. It was fine. It wasn’t rum, but Darcy figured that Pep and Janey could use all the help she could provide in schlepping their drunk asses home. She’d have to go get another one soon. She turned back to the bar, frowning because there was a new bartender on staff. What if his virgin cocktails weren’t any good?

She reached up to absently wipe her eye but stopped halfway there. If she did that, she’d have mascara and eyeliner smudged down her cheek.  Not only had Pepper and Jane dragged her away from a comfy couch and Netflix, but they’d also made her get all made up. Fake eyelashes and everything.

And now that she was paying attention, her left one was itching. Irritating her.

She blinked a couple of times and reached up to ensure the glue was still adhered.

And now it was tugging. She felt her eye twitch on its own.

She sighed and started scanning the bar for Pepper and Jane. She really needed to get out of here and soon. Otherwise, she’d have to go to the bathroom and pull off the eyelash.

A few minutes of scanning turned up both of them across the room at the second bar, where the previous bartender had gone.

They must switch sides on the hour or something, she thought to herself before taking a step in that direction.

She didn’t get far, though. The second she stood up from her chair, a server stopped her and pushed a drink in her hand. “From the guy at the bar… the hot one in the black t-shirt…” the woman said before hightailing it off to parts of the bar unknown.

Darcy turned towards the bar, bringing the glass up to her face to sniff.

Just as she suspected. White Rum.  The new drink slinger didn’t know she was sober for the night. And since the server was gone, she had no choice but to walk up there and give it back.

Sighing, she started towards the bar.

Logan

The cute girl was approaching with her untouched drink. Logan watched as she moved right past him and onto Remy, handing the drink back to him. “Sorry, dude. I’m the designated driver.”

Twenty layers of embarrassment wrapped themselves around Logan like a cocoon. An itchy, irritating cocoon.

First off, she just assumed the drink was from Remy. Never even gave him a second thought. Which was exactly how he told Remy it would be. He wasn’t shiny enough for this place.

“Oh, whoa. Sorry about that…” Remy took the drink and slid it onto the bar. “We can get that fixed for you, but first off, that’s not from me. It’s from my friend.”

He slipped his arm around Logan’s shoulders and tugged him close in a side-hug. “ My friend. Logan.  This is Logan. Logan, meet…” Remy paused, waiting for the woman to share her name.

“Darcy,” she said, blinking as she extended her hand towards Logan.

Darcy

She felt dazed. Dazed because she never saw anyone as stacked or built as this guy was. Well. Not in the same way. She saw lots of dudes with muscles for show.

This guy had muscles for work.

Barely bulging biceps pushed against his t-shirt sleeves. A thick vein ran down his arm and through his forearms. He wasn’t flexing. Wasn’t trying to show off. Geez, he could probably lift her with one arm.

He smelled like beer and Old Spice. No overwhelming cologne that made her nose burn. Logan looked like he hadn’t shaved in two days at least.

She took her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down to get control of herself before attempting to speak again. “Hi. I’m Darcy.”

Muscles grinned slightly. “You said that already. Not that I don’t like hearing it.”

She leaned down to take a sip of her already empty drink, missed the straw and got the lime instead. It was bitter and icy cold. She coughed loudly.

Logan

Even as she spit the lime out onto the ground, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wanted her number. Just as soon as she stopped coughing.

It didn’t take him long to realize that her cough wasn’t ending. And it wasn’t the normal kind either. “Goddamn, you’re choking!” He reached out to pat her back.

Darcy

Goddamn, I’m choking.

Logan

“Do you need the Heimlich?” he asked, his hand still rubbing small circles on her back.

Darcy shook her head. “Water. WATER.”

Logan took her cup and held it out to the bartender. “Water.”

He waffled for a minute but filled up the glass with the sprayer in his hand and Logan handed it back to Darcy.

She drank it, coughed twice more and thanked him, holding her hand out to squeeze his forearm. She squeezed it three times before he could think to say anything.

“You wanna go someplace quieter?”

Darcy

She couldn’t believe he still wanted anything to do with her when she nearly ralphed on his shoes.

“I wish, but I’m kind of looking after my friends. You know. When I’m not choking to death on my drink…” She laughed nervously, and he was still peering at her.

“You got a number?”

“Um… yeah. Yeah. I do.”

“We can set something up another night?” he offered, as she pulled out her phone.

“You’d want to?” she asked, still not believing her luck.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

[simone-garnett]

title: it's gonna be forever (or it's gonna go down in flames) word count: 3.2k pairing: sweet pea x josie fandom: riverdale information: based on this post by @josiemccoyprotectionsquad. it’s all i could think about for the past 2 days and im weak.

                   ao3

When her phone buzzes late one night Josie assumes it is Val or Melody texting her, one of the pair too lazy to take the ten steps out of their hotel room to ask her a question personally. She rolls her eyes at their antics, outstretching her arm to the beside table on her left and blindly reaching for the device, smiling in victory as she gets it and pulls it to her, swiping the screen absentmindedly to read whatever was sent.

She doesn’t expect it to be anyone else but them; she had talked to her mother and step-brother earlier that night and none of them indicated that there would be anything wrong. It could be Toni, the Serpents playing at a nearby arena, but they still had a packed week and she didn’t think Toni would be willing to give up her sleep for a girl’s night, not until Monday.

And, considering the few people who had her number, it could only be Valerie or Melody.

She doesn’t expect it to be Sweet Pea.

But it is.

Josie had known Sweet Pea only tangentially; he was the bassist in Toni’s band and they had come across each other several times. The Serpents were much more hard rock than the Pussycats, though Josie had heard Toni cover some of their songs on her personal Youtube channel and had fallen in love with her immediately, enjoyed the mellowed down versions of the songs, enjoyed the hard-rock edge she had given others. And once she had heard one, it wasn’t difficult to fall down the rabbit-hole of the channel, Josie introducing herself to the band’s songs and then the band itself.

They had opened for the Pussycats while they toured and Josie joked constantly about stealing Toni to join her own band. Sorta. The offer still stands.

But Sweet Pea didn’t interact with them, not if he could help it. She had seen him with the rest of the Serpents, the man unaware she was watching as he laughed freely, smiling and teasing his friends. It was like night and day, the difference between the man that was backstage and the one depicted in magazines. Because to the world he closed himself off. Melody had managed to scratch at the walls around him and, for the most part she seemed to succeed. But she was Melody and there wasn’t a person on Earth who could reject her sweetness.

There was only one other person she had seen him like that around... but she was also a witness to a screaming match and storm-off. He had been unaware she was in the vicinity when he had fought with Ethel, and she never mentioned it to either of them.

But Josie hadn’t talked to Sweet Pea in over a year. Their bands had gone in different routes, the Serpents establishing themselves as a rock band that could headline their own concerts and Josie supported them from afar, buying their albums and tweeting about their music constantly. But she had her own band, her own albums to focus on and, with Grammy nominations coming up, she tried to not focus on anything else.

Not anything or anyone.

(She only partially succeeds, but thinking of Reggie helps her write some of her most gripping songs.

After all, heartache is a powerful thing, its intensity only increasing when it is Josie putting those feelings into words, painting a picture with music, the lyrics and melodies able to cut through the toughest of hearts and bring them to tears with the emotion she was able to elicit, heartstrings something she could play with proficiency. It was supposed to be cathartic for her, but it wasn’t.

It just,

it hurts.)

Josie still keeps tabs on them. She calls Toni regularly, reads up on the others. Of Fangs’ nomination for sexiest man alive. Of the break-up between Sweet Pea and Ethel. Their music styles clashed and apparently, they did too, far too much to maintain a relationship.

She doesn’t give it another a thought.

So receiving a text from him to meet her at Pop’s Diner at 10 that night was a surprise. She considers calling, considers demanding audio confirmation that it is him asking that not a stranger who had stumbled across or hacked his phone. She considers demanding more than just the sentence he had sent her with no explanation attached to it.

She doesn’t however, demand any of it.

Josie walks in 15  minutes late, intentionally. She was curious as to how serious he was about the clandestine meeting, too far away from their hotels for it to be coincidental. They don’t have much time off between concerts and the fact they were both in the same city was miraculous, so if he is wasting her time... she doesn’t want to think about that.

He is there however, the giant crowded into one of the booths, head down and staring intently at the table. Josie slows as she approaches him, stops one booth away from him and truly takes him in. He seems to thrum with energy, his fingers tapping on the table in front of him, Josie almost certain beneath the table his foot is bouncing up and down. He seems so concentrated on nothing and everything, brows furrowed as he stared. She must be a little heavy footed because his head jerks up when she takes another step forward, his eyes finding hers instantly.

She slides in the other side opposite him, Josie signalling Pop to her. They both idly flick through the menus he provides, silence settling around them after they ordered and await their food, the only couple in the building. It is brought to them and they pick at the chips and milkshake, a look of disgust on Josie’s face as Sweet Pea dips his chips into the drink.

But eventually their plates are empty and taken away, the pair left to themselves. Sweet Pea just watches her, hesitation silencing him every time his mouth opens to speak. And she realises that he may not actually say what he wants without prompting. “Okay,” she starts. “You didn’t ask me to come just to not say anything. So, what’s up?”

He stiffens at her brash approach to the topic. His body is taut and his jaw is clenched. “I need you to be my girlfriend.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he bites back. At her disbelieving look he clarifies, “I’ve had one drink tonight. Definitely needed.” He mutters it through gritted teeth, as though the mere idea of him coming to her sober to ask the question was repulsive. Which, rude.

She raises an eyebrow, casually flicking her gaze up and down his body before levelling him an unimpressed stare. “Oh, really? So, please, explain to me why I should say yes again.” Some of the fight leaves his shoulders, Sweet Pea slumping forward.

“Not an actual relationship. I mean - none of it is serious. It’s just -” he rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward, the top of his face buried in his hands, and she thinks that she had never seen him act so vulnerable, so open. “I need a fake girlfriend so the paps will get off my back.” She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move a muscle, and Sweet Pea carries on. “The media can be brutal some times you know.” There is a self-deprecating smile curling his lips up. “After the break-up with Ethel... she was the angel in the mess and I was the big, bad man who could never deserve her. Who must have cheated or hurt her -”

He cuts himself off, and she can’t help the words tumbling out. “What happened between you guys?” Josie flinches; she was too abrupt, too fast. They weren’t even that close. His hands drop to the table. The bang of his rings reverberates in the diner, in her heart.

“Please don’t ask.” His voice is hoarse and his eyes, she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. “I know it’s a lot to ask on top of everything else, but please don’t ask.” And it is there, the intensity she had only ever gotten glimpses of in the wings of the stage, when he was so lost in his music that he forgets to restrain himself, when he doesn’t simply play but lets it move him, lets himself be a canvass for the music to illustrate its emotion and power. He is beautiful in his vulnerability, and like a moth to a flame she finds herself drawn to him, seeking to understand.

Josie had held herself back before, and she’s sure she could do so now. “Okay fine, but what is dating me going to help?” She says it not unkindly, but even then she is sure it could have been more smooth.

“I need the media to back off; I tried hiding and lying low, but it only fuelled rumours. So I figured if they saw me dating someone in public they’d move on eventually. And then let me do the same.” She gets it, whether Josie thinks they’ll succeed is a different question entirely, but she gets what he means. It was difficult to be in relationships when the tabloids stalked for every detail, but it was more difficult to move on from them when they would keep on opening wounds you wanted to close and heal.

“Why me?” It’s an honest question. They weren’t close and she’s sure there would be a multitude of girls willing to be close to him, even in a situation like this.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighs. “It was kinda a rushed decision. Melody would be best but Ethel was always suspicious of our friendship and I don’t think Val’s boyfriend would like it if I asked her.”

“So I was your third choice then?” She means it to be teasing, the despondence of Sweet Pea’s countenance getting to her, but she thinks that a little bit of bitterness slips in. “Well, what do I get out of this?”

“Publicity?” he shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sure there’s a reason out there.”

There is. He doesn’t need to know of it.

Of him.

Sweet Pea sighs, and if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and had borne it for centuries. He sounds tired and resigned and it’s the most emotion he had voluntarily shown her. It leaves her heart lurching for him. “If you don’t do it for me, do it for Toni. She won’t say it but this has all been driving her crazy. And you know what some of the tabloids have been saying about her and me...” She did. That Toni and Sweet Pea had been having an affair and that Ethel had discovered them in bed and left his cheating ass because, god forbid, a female and male be in a non-sexual relationship. She tried to be strong, but the strain of the gossip was starting to have an effect. And while Jughead didn’t believe the rumours Toni hated that the boy she loved was being dragged into messes he hadn’t wanted any part in.

Sweet Pea slips his head down and buries it in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I should have never asked you to come here.”

Josie wants to laugh at the scenario. She hadn’t thought it would ever happen, that she would ever consider it.

“No sex.”

She never thought she’d agree to it.

Sweet Pea’s head jerks up from his hands and he looks at her with something akin to hope and awe shining in his eyes. “Of course not.” His voice is quiet, it is soft and quiet and it is a completely different version of him she had never seen before. “I’ll be the perfect boyfriend.”

She rolls her eyes. She almost bites back that if he were the perfect boyfriend she would definitely be having sex, but she doesn’t. They aren’t at that level of friendship yet. “You better be. Josie McCoy doesn’t date anything but the best.” It is the first time he cracks a grin at her the entire night and a thought flutters through her mind, a warning that his smile is beautiful, is lethal. She brushes it aside. “And don’t be clingy. My music career is my priority and I ain’t giving that up just because you aren’t happy with how this fake relationship is playing out.”

He nods eagerly, eyes alight now he had her agreement. “I’ll give you all the room you want. I’ll do anything.”

She smiles in agreement and nods. And with that the deal is struck.

They slip out of the booth, Sweet Pea brushing off her attempts to pay for the meal. “Think of it as a thank-you. Or a bribe to continue with the deal, whichever.” She huffs in annoyance, but she can’t cling to the emotion as much as she wants to, the feeling evaporating as she sees Sweet Pea grin at Pop, a decent tip left in the jar as he turns to where she stands, strolling over to her.

She sticks out her hand to him and he looks down confused at it and she rolls her eyes, pulling it back to herself. They walk out together, his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders up high, and arms tucked into himself. No, she thinks, this won’t do at all. “You know we can’t be like this in public.”

He blinks repeatedly at her. “Like what?”

“Awkward! You’re keeping a metre between us. How do you expect anyone to believe we’re together if you can’t look at me for longer than a minute.”

He looks off to the side, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d think him embarrassed. “I can look you in the eyes.” She arches an eyebrow in challenge and he huffs, meeting her eyes. He wavers when she takes a step closer to him and then another, her hand resting on his torso but Josie tuts softly at him, her other hand holding his chin in place.

She gets a little distracted, eyes wandering around his face. They had never been that close before, never needed to, never for this long. She can see freckles she never noticed before, the upturn of his nose, the small scar across his cheek. And when she finds his eyes again it feels different, the moment no longer a challenge between them.

Josie tilts her head to the side. “How good are you with kissing?”

The words break whatever tension had arisen, Sweet Pea blinking the look away, a more easy-going one taking its place. “Oh that, that I can do.” He grins at her, hands lifting to cradle her face, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. She doesn’t think it would affect her as much as it does. And then she doesn’t think at all, Sweet Pea ducking his head and catching her mouth against his. It... it’s a wonderful kiss, much better than she was expecting from him, Sweet Pea soft and probing, his arms wrapping themselves around her, pulling her flush against him.

His hair is soft between her fingers, soft and long and she fists it, pulling him closer to her. It is easy to lose herself in the moment, in his kiss and touch. She is keenly aware of the arm pressed against her back, keeping them close, as well as the other resting on her hip, sliding down her ass. She can feel his nose press against her cheek, can feel his fingers dig into her skin as she drags her nails across his scalp. She’s losing herself in the kiss and she hadn’t done that in a very, very long time.

They break apart, Sweet Pea resting his head on her’s as they both try to catch their breath. But eventually he straightens up, Josie tilting her head higher to meet his eyes. And there is something in his eyes, she thinks it’s lust, she knows that it has her temperature rising.

“Oh,” she breathes, pulse racing in its aftermath. She hadn’t been kissed like that since Reggie. Her heart pangs at the memory, the thought of her footballer, of how tough he was on the field and how soft he was when it was just them. She swallows down her saliva and the memories of a past she couldn’t live in. Not anymore. “Okay then. That - a lot of that.”

His smirk is irritating. “I think I can live with that.” And his thumb is doing a distracting thing on her hip bone, stroking it gently, the callouses sending tingles through her body.

It is enough to bring her back to reality, Josie crossing her arms over her chest. “Get over yourself Sweet Pea.” And she extracts herself from his embrace. This... this was safer. Distance was good. “I am not going to be accused by the media as some frigid witch. And I need some benefits in this.” There is a smugness to her own smirk, an arch to her brow challenging him to contradict her.

He doesn’t.

“So we’re really doing this?” He seems more amazed than anything, Sweet Pea not expecting the night to go as it did.

“For Toni,” she clarifies.

And he grins a disarming grin and oh no, she thinks. This is very risky. Especially when he wraps his around her shoulders, tugging her close to his side as they walk to their respective cars. He is still stiff, but he was trying and the moment he becomes more comfortable, she knows it would make everything that much more dangerous.

She wakes up to a plethora of texts and missed calls, from Melody and Val. From Toni and Fangs and her manager and her mother. She clicks Val’s text, mind still hazy from sleep. And so seeing an website link captioned with a ‘plz explain?!?!?!?!’, she automatically clicks it and waits to see what the big fuss was about.

Josie almost drops her phone at the images that load. Her and Sweet Pea, bathed in the purple and red glow of Pop’s neon lights, the stars twinkling above them, his hand resting low on her ass, her arms around his neck, hand buried in his hair. The first is of them kissing, her head tilted to the side, Sweet Pea bending down to meet her. She didn’t realise there was such a big height difference, not until she sees how he engulfs her in his embrace, crowding her. The next is right after. It’s as though she were seeing it for the first time, because she remembers the moment, remembers the surprise of his talent, remembers thinking of Reggie. But she doesn’t see that in the image, not when Sweet Pea is pressing his forehead on her own, their noses touching. She sees closed eyes and close bodies.

Her and Sweet Pea look cute and wrapped up in each other, close and comfortable and there is a small part of her which longs for when she had that, when she had a man who loves and adored her, not just her voice.

They look in love.

(She ignores the thought about the silence from one person. She is going to have to learn how to do that.)

[onestowatch]

Clubhouse Is Making Their Way Through Life, Curveballs and All [Q&A]

Photo: Dillon Matthew

Feel-good indie-pop outfit Clubhouse continue to entrance listeners with their happy-go-lucky arrangements and introspective lyrics with their latest single, “No Way.” Following the success of their previous release, “Flipside,” the track, which frontman Max Reichert expressed was about a toxic relationship, is yet another example of the band's ability to sonically and visually create emotional and provocative storytelling that makes listeners want to dance.

The band is comprised of five best friends forged from a middle school garage band in Columbus, Ohio, made up of Max Reichert, twin brothers Ari and Zak Blumer, and Michael Berthold and Forrest Taylor, who they met in college. The five-piece have gone through the ups and downs of life together, especially while their frontman dealt with cancer. Now, with an EP and a national tour on the way, the band is eager to tell their story with the hope that they'll be able to help someone else who is dealing with a similar bump in the road.

We had the chance to talk with the band about "No Way," their upcoming tour, and the curveballs of life.

Ones to Watch: Can you walk me through the creative process behind "No Way?”

Max: We wrote it with this producer named Cooper, and this songwriter/pop star named Claire, who goes by spill tab. We wrote it with them at their house. It was our first session writing with them, our first time meeting them, and we wrote pretty much the whole song with them in a few hours. So it just came together really, really quickly. In terms of juxtaposing the lyrical content, which talks about a toxic relationship and how two people just don't fit for each other, I think we just love juxtaposing more profound lyrics or lyrics that are not necessarily crazy deep but aren't about having a good time with dancy beats. I think it kind of goes along with our mantra for what this EP is about.

Zak: Which is about not taking ourselves too seriously.

Max: Yeah, like rolling with the punches and going through hard things in life but not getting too bogged down on matters and still being able to have fun even when you're going through hard things. I think that's kind of a common theme throughout the EP. We talk about heavy things but try not to put too much weight on them.

How has your songwriting process evolved?

Max: I think it's certainly changed. I went through cancer a few years ago in 2018. I had bone cancer in my left leg, which was honestly a turning point for us as a band. We took a step back when I was going through all that, and we refined our craft from a songwriting standpoint and just our general outlook. We've always taken music really seriously, but when we went into writing, I think we took the pressure off ourselves. I think we used to be like, “okay, this next song has to sound like this and has to sound like our favorite band, and we have to be like the next biggest band ever.” I think for years, we did that, and it would confine us in this box. As soon as we just went to the session and were like, “Hey, let's just enjoy each other's company and let's just have fun together and be friends and write music that feels good to us and not think anything more about it,” I think that was when we had this significant turning point. The songs started sounding better, and the storytelling got better because it was just more honest. We weren't trying to emulate. We were just writing from our gut.

What are some of your inspirations on a larger scale outside of music?

Zak: I think one we can sort of all agree on is, we all sort of shared partially in Max's struggle while he went through this crazy shit. People our age, or at least us, and we think our friends as well, have been going through a quarter-life crisis. So you start to ask yourself, “Am I achieving my goals? What are my goals? Am I getting there fast enough?” So skipping ahead to the title of our EP, these are questions we have and still always ask ourselves. But through partially having gone through what Max went through and being there alongside him, I feel we can now see the question as what it is and accept that we may not always know the answer, but we can try to remind ourselves to enjoy every day. I think many people relate to that over the past couple of years, and I think the meaning of life has shifted for a lot of people and we just kind of wanted to share our two cents.

The music video for this single is overall lowkey and seemed super fun to shoot. How did you come up with this concept and execute it? Did y'all originally have other ideas?

Zak: We had tossed around a couple of other ideas. Some were more narrative-driven and focused more on the actual lyrical content. We could have taken it more of an expected route, like maybe following an argument between two people and becoming more intense that way. But we were thinking about this sort of single frame, elevator-style, elevator shot video kind of thing where the frame doesn't really change much, but everything inside of it's changing all the time. So we were pulling references from the opening credit scene of That ‘70s Show where they're all singing in the car and the Wayne's World scene where they're singing “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and the guy in the middle is hammered drunk. Once we kind of were thinking along those lines, it came together really fast. I think we shot everything for this video in like one afternoon evening.

That's super-efficient.

Zak: I mean the team that we had, our manager Cole together with Justin [Kaminuma], the director, and Carlos [Ramos], the DP. Those guys killed it. Kind of like creating the song; once we got that idea, there wasn't much like back and forth. It was kind of like, “Okay, what if we just kind of have a good time with this track?” The track is fun and energetic, so we thought to just give them that in the video. So we just goofed off and had a good time and jammed, and I think it turned out pretty well.

Max: Yeah, and it kind of matches with the lyrical content because, as I said before, the song is really about a toxic, chaotic relationship, and I think in chaotic relationships, there's good and bad. There's craziness, and there are good times, so I think we kind of wanted to lay that out and in front of the video where there are shots where we're all just like sitting around, and there are shots of us going crazy in the car having fun. So I think we wanted to match those moods together with the visuals.

Michael: From start to finish, everything happened so easily and quickly. After the first writing session, I remember we played the track in the car, and we were bumping it, and it was pretty much like the video. We were all just like damn.

Max: I think we actually drove that car to the session too. I remember after the session, all five of us drove back in that car, and we were all like bumping the demo. It was hard. It's my dad's car. He got it back in 2008, but he had it in Ohio forever. The thing is, in Ohio, with how the seasons are, you can't really drive that car that much because it just won't run in the winter. So when I moved out here, it had just been sitting in his garage forever, so eventually, he said I should take it out there.

Michael: I just want one thing to be known about the whole video. All of that hype and headbanging and everything is the most authentic thing in the world because we were doing it for so long. At one point, we had been just head bopping for like two hours straight we had to sit back.

Forrest: Yeah, it was as much fun to do it as it looks. We were having a blast.

What makes for an excellent creative collaborator when it comes to crossing over mediums?

Zak: One of the biggest things I noticed was that there was a moment when the plans we originally made weren't working out. So a lot of us were just not really seeing them and just trying to keep pushing forward and try to make it work. So one night, basically, Cole, our manager, Justin, and Carlos, the three of them had a meeting, and they were like, “Look, we got to make a hard pivot, and we need you guys to trust us right now.” So we were just like, alright, you know you guys are the bosses here. We trust you. Let's make this work, and it ended up turning out beautifully, so I think one of the one things that we really, or I really admired from this team, was how quickly they were just able to just shift.

Yeah, you for sure got to have that trust there.

Zak: I'll add one thing to that, which is that both Justin and Carlos are really young guys in the scene, and part of that is—we also view ourselves as up-and-coming, young people in the scene, and we kind of want to bring in people that sort of are not necessarily—I mean obviously sometimes when you work with like more established people, it comes with an ego, but it's not so much that we wanted to avoid that as much as it was to bring in the eagerness and the excitement. I mean, they were so stoked as soon as they landed to just get working on things and to start brainstorming ideas and that kind of energy we just feed off of. So for “No Way,” it was literally all of us just feeding off of each other's energy. I remember in the scene where we were in the car, parked, Carlos and Justin were outside filming and just jumping up and down with us. So, yeah, they were as excited as we were. It was fun.

So now walk me through the day you found out that you were going on tour with The Wombats? How are you feeling about the upcoming tour?

Max: It felt very surreal. We've been fans of them for so long. I grew up listening to them and still listen to them. I guess it was just this crazy full-circle moment of, I don't know, I think I might have teared up. Growing up and being such a massive fan of them and wanting to do music, not really knowing how to play an instrument in high school, learning how to play an instrument in high school, going through college, into the cancer thing, and then to come out on the other side of it and to get to tour with a band that I'm a genuine giant fan of. I mean, it's just like a real-life childhood dream coming true. So it's like, it's... I don't know. I can't really describe it other than that. Our dream realization moment, and we're so excited.

Zak: Yeah, we're grateful to them for giving us the opportunity, and we're gonna work our asses off to make it the best shows we've ever played.

Be sure to catch Clubhouse on tour with The Wombats, starting January 2022.

[shiftylinguini]

Hi, do you do drabble requests?? I'd love to read something where Draco loses a bet to Harry (or vice versa) and has to do something embarrassing but it... Um... Results in something? Or where they have to do something embarrassing together? And... It results in something? Lol. Really I want snark and result, and yours is awesome, so I thought I'd ask. 😊.

Omg, hi, you may regret asking for this (I’m so sorry). Shout out to @aibidil for the sage advice re bet 3 (even though this isn’t at all what you suggested LOL). 

(contains drinking, betting, a dick or two, and Ron. be warned.)

1.

It was a stupid bet anyway.

“Yes, but you agreed to it, so now you have to follow through, Potter,” Draco drawls empirically when Harry points this out to him. At least, he tries to; he’s the only person in this pub who’s been matching Harry drink for drink, and he’s looking a little fuzzy around the edges. So are a lot of things in the room, actually. Maybe it’s time for new glasses, Harry thinks, suppressing a burp ― and then a groan when he remembers their bet.

“I don’t want ―”

“Nope,” Draco tuts, “You lost. You bet me I couldn’t sing all the lyrics to She Bangs ―”

“It’s a Muggle song!”  

“― and I just bloody did, so now to help me continue Living my Vida Loca you have to―  

“― And how do you even know so much about Ricky Martin!” Harry interrupts, stalling.  

“Who cares!” Draco declares happily, and incredibly loudly, as he pushes the bottle of tequila towards Harry. “You lost.” He grins, then again even wider as Harry makes a face. Draco taps the bottle with one long finger. “Now eat the worm.”

“Gross,” Harry drops his head onto his arms. “Gross!” he repeats as Ron pats him on the back.

“You did lose the bet, mate,” he says. Harry lifts his head to glare at him accusingly.

“Traitor.” He’s never letting Ron join him and Draco for drinks again. Not that he and Draco do this often, except they do do it a couple of times a month. Well, exactly four times a month, which is once a week, but it’s not like it’s a thing, shut up Ron.

“Eat the worm!” Draco says again, pouring the last of the bottle into Harry’s glass. The worm plops inside, glistening ominously. Harry feels ill.

“If I eat that, I will puke,” he announces definitively, and Draco shrugs elegantly ― or at least, it is elegant until his elbow slips and he almost falls off the table. Harry snickers as Draco rights himself, then dodges the wedge of lime Draco throws at his head.

“Potter, eat the fucking ―”

“Fine!”

Harry downs it in one.   

“See that wasn’t so ― oh dear.” Draco’s eyes widen in delight as Harry is unceremoniously sick all over Ron’s boots.

“Oh mate,” Ron says sympathetically. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yuk.” Harry spits, and Draco laughs so hard he almost falls off his chair.

Then, to Harry’s slightly green delight, he actually does.

2.

The second bet is even stupider.

“No, no, no way.”

“Yes way. Very way,” Harry taps his foot smugly. “You agreed. You said ―”

“I know what I said!” Draco hisses, “But I just assumed you would lose the bet, because you always lose.”  

“Do not.” Harry grins, aware that he really, really does. “I won fair and square.”

“You cheated.”

“You can’t cheat at darts.”

“I know, I tried,” Draco grumbles, then sighs.

“You lost the game,” Harry says, pointing at Draco, and then himself, “and now I get to choose that you need to run, naked, across that field and ― oh my god, what are you doing!” Harry blanches as Draco pulls his jumper and shirt over his head.

Draco shoots him an unimpressed looks as he undoes his fly.

“I’m getting naked, you dense tit.” He pulls his jeans off, then throws them at Harry, who catches them one handed, almost spilling his beer.

“Err.” Harry licks his suddenly dry lips. “Right, yes of course, naked,” he mumbles, looking at anything but Draco’s legs. Or stomach. Or the line of hair leading to his ―  

“You didn’t think this through, did you?” Ron says quietly, standing next to him and smirking at Harry’s slightly flushed face, and honestly, who keeps inviting Ron?

“Sure I did, this is a great bet,” Harry says, ignoring the funny lurch in his stomach as Draco removes his final item of clothing and grumpily drops his pants on top of his jumper and shirt. “A really great bet ― and off he goes!” Harry grins, as Draco runs off.

“Wish I’d brought my camera,” Ron says wistfully, then laughs as Draco flips him the finger. “George would kill to see Malfoy’s pasty arse streaking through a Muggle field in the middle of the night.”

Harry frowns as he watches Draco’s bare rear run across the field. It’s a rather nice arse, he thinks, as Draco runs behind a tree. Firm, but still round and  ―  

Oh dear.

“All right there, Harry?” Ron asks with a knowing smile. Harry drinks the rest of his beer in panicked, possibly-a-bit-gay silence.

Still, he thinks, when Draco has returned and is pulling his pants back on. It is a nice arse.

3.

They both agreed the third bet was without doubt the stupidest.

“Ron, this is so not happening ― “

“Weasley, you’ve got to be bloody barking mad to think ―”

“Nuh uh uh,” Ron rocks back on his chair. “Bet’s a bet, and you two lost.” He spreads his hands. “So, now I’m afraid we have a tie.”

“And our tie breaker is,” Draco lowers his voice, incredulously. “To see who can wank the fastest?” His voice is a hiss.

“My house, my rules.”

“It’s a bit pervy, though, Ron,” Harry points out, hoping to wrong foot him. It doesn’t work. Ron simply spreads his hands wider.

“Alright, well if neither of you want to do that, then you can just take care of the bar tab for the rest of the year ―”

“Right, come on.” Draco hauls Harry to his feet. “Bathroom’s this way.”

“What!” Harry splutters, and Ron taps his watch.

“Time starts now, champions! Whoever’s done first wins,” he hears Ron call as the bathroom door swings shut behind them.

“Malfoy,” Harry says. His eyes widen in alarm when Draco starts pulling his robes aside, the fly of his his jeans down. “Malfoy!”

“What?” Draco snaps.

“You’re not…” Harry flaps a dizzy hand at Draco general groinal region. “You’re not really going to…”

“Yes, I am really going to,” Draco waves his own hand in a crude imitation of Harry’s gesture, “because I don’t fancy paying your mate’s bar tab for the rest of the year. Have you seen how much he can drink?”

“But he won’t…He won’t really make us…Oh god, you ―” Harry feels faint. And then a little fainter when Draco eases his jeans down. “You’re going to wank!” he hisses.

“Yes.” Draco jeans hit the floor, followed by his pants. “And so are you, and not as fast as me, because I am not losing this bet!”

Harry can not, for the life of him, think of a single thing to reply to that. Not when Draco’s dick is out anyway.

“Potter.”

“Nhh?”

“Jeans.” Draco clicks his fingers. “Down, now.”

Harry stares incredulously for another moment, but when Draco irritatingly clicks his fingers again, he gathers his wits.

“That is so fucking annoying when you do that,” he grinds out, clicking his own fingers in Draco’s grinning face to make his point, then lowering his jeans. He takes himself in hand, leaning back against the bathroom wall as Draco stands next to him. They both stare ahead.

“Are you hard?” Harry asks after another minute.

“Not remotely,” Draco replies.

“Shit.” Harry makes a face, letting go of his dick. “I don’t wanna pay Ron’s bar tab,” he grumbles.

Draco hums, looking at Harry sideways. “Okay, new plan.” He pulls his jeans back up, tucking himself away. “We fake it. Pretend we did it, but don’t,” Draco clarifies at Harry’s skeptical look.

“Oh.” Harry can’t keep the disappointment out of his tone, and he quickly concentrates on pulling his pants back up, and not on how red his face is turning. Harry Beetroot Potter, he thinks, disappointed he doesn’t get to see his frien―drinking buddy wank. It’s true though, he thinks with an exciting and also somewhat sickly lurch in his stomach. He totally wanted to see Draco wank.

And also, Draco might be a tiny bit more than his drinking buddy.

Harry does his fly up, turning to see Draco watching him. His eyes are sharp, intent, as he reads Harry’s expression and Harry has just enough time to realise his not-that-new-really-if-he’s-totally-honest infatuation has been busted ― shit ― when Draco smiles, broad and handsome. That is not shit, Harry thinks, something in his chest fluttering a little.

“I have another idea.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Draco’s lips slip into a devious grin. “Trust me?”

“Err.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Draco laughs, dragging him out the door and back to Ron’s expectant face. Harry isn’t sure what’s happening, but he is sure that Draco is holding his hand ― well, two of his fingers, not counting his thumb ― and that Ron looks so self-satisfied he might combust any minute now from an acute case of Too Bloody Smug.

“How’d you go?”

“We tied again,” Draco says lightly.

“You what?” Ron asks skeptically, raising one brow.

“It was a stupid tie-breaker, and we drew again,” Draco answers blithely, taking a sip of Harry’s wine. “So we’re going to sort it out properly later.”

“Are we?” Harry asks again, feeling a little flushed.

“Yes.” Draco hands him his wine. “At my place. I think.” It’s as close to an offer as Harry has ever heard Draco make. He blinks, then again for good measure, before he nods.

“Oh, yeah.” He ignores Ron’s toothy smile. Pervy, Ron, you’re still being pervy. “Yeah at yours. Break the tie again.”

“Ah huh.” Ron clicks his tongue. “Knew it,” he mumbles, smiling into his beer. “Fucking knew it,” he repeats before getting up to fetch more crisps.

“So,” Draco looks at Harry from underneath his fringe. “Whoever loses our tie breaker tonight.” He licks his lips, his expression almost hopeful. “Let’s say they have to buy dinner this Friday?”

Harry grins. “You’re on.”

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Bucky finds blog posts and twitter posts that are like "theory: iron man and winter soldier are a Thing" and "proof that tony loves Bucky: every picture of Tony looking at Bucky" and Bucky's been pinning after Tony but didn't think he likes him back but after seeing those posts, starts paying attention to how Tony acts around him and to him. It helps that after an outing, there's most posts to show Bucky what he missed with his back turned away from Tony. He uses this as courage to ask him out.

The prompt was anonymous, but I’m dedicating this fill to @ssyn3, who knows why.

[A/N: I’m taking this opportunity to let everyone know that I’ve changed my main URL from @everyworldneedslove to @27dragons, to match my AO3 account. My tag here at IT&B will change accordingly, but I will NOT be going back to change all my old posts. Just know that we’re the same person, and if you’re not sure whether you’ve missed something, feel free to check my AO3 collections to be sure. And now, on with the prompt!]

“How’syour boyfriend this morning?” Clint asked when Bucky came back fromdelivering breakfast and coffee to the workshop.

“Mywhat?” Bucky said, startled. He thought he’d been keeping thatlittle crush under wraps, damn it. “Stark’s not– What are you,twelve?”

Clintcackled as if he were specifically setting out to prove Bucky’spoint. “Oh, if only the internet knew how you bring him breakfastevery morning.” He waggled his eyebrows, making it sound lasciviousrather than merely a bid to keep Tony healthy. It wasn’t as if noneof the other Avengers had done it; they’d had an actual rotation inplace for the job before Bucky had taken it over.

“Whywould the internet even care?” Bucky wondered.

“Areyou serious? You haven’t seen all the pages and pages of winterironspeculation?”

“Winterwhat.” Clint looked like Christmas had just come early and startedtapping at a tablet, and Bucky knew he was in trouble. He should justleave the room, but instead he gamely looked at the tablet when Clintpassed it to him.

Itwas a slightly out of focus cell-phone picture of Tony air-liftingBucky to a vantage point during a battle a couple of weeks prior.Under the picture, it said, “Guys, idk about you, but Iron Mandoesn’t carry anyone elselikethis! Look at the way they’re holding hands I just can’t!!!*swoons*”

Buckyblinked and looked at the picture again. In it, he and Tony wereholding each others’ wrists; it was a good, stable hold thatreleased quickly and cleanly. Bucky hadn’t even been thinking abouthis dumb crush at the time; he’d been much more focused on takingout the AIM control tower. “I’m the only one he carries like thatbecause I’m the only one on the team with a metal arm,” he said,slightly dumbfounded.

“Youhave to keep scrolling,” Clint told him.

Against his better judgment, Buckyscrolled.

Therewas a detailed analysis of the way Tony had stepped in on that nastyreporter at their last press conference. Another picture of themtogether, this time at a charity function. This time he couldn’tquite refute the poster’s gushing over the way Bucky was watchingTony. He reallyneededto get that crush locked down tighter.

Hewiped out the screen and tossed the tablet back at Clint with anaffected huff. “People will believe anythingonthe internet, won’t they?”

Backin the privacy of his own room, though, he paced for a while beforefinally caving. “JARVIS, is there any more stuff like that online?”

“Quitea lot of it, Mr. Barnes.”

“…Showme?”

[mobile readers, ‘ware the readmore!]

Everytime they wound up in a camera frame together, it seemed, someonewanted to find a way to suggest it meant they were dating, and ifthey were actually interacting, it was taken as proof positive. Therewere sets of pictures with flowery poems and lyrics on them, andpeople had even written storiesaboutthem getting together. Some of those were horrifyingly embarrassing,and Bucky clicked out of them as quickly as he could manage. Somewere shockingly torrid, and he might have lingered for a moment onthose before waving them away.

Butfinally, he closed the whole mess. He did notneedto add any fuel to that particular fire.

“HeyRobocop!” Tony clapped Bucky on the shoulder as he came into theroom. “Thanks for the coffee. Blueberry?” He offered a foilpacket.

Buckytook a few on habit. “Thanks.”

“Sure,no problem. Listen, T’challa finally sent me Shuri’s notes onyour arm, so if you need a tune-up on something you can’t reachyourself, I’m good to go.” Natasha came into the room and Tonyturned to greet her with a cheerful, “Red Menace. The new ‘bitesholding up for you?”

Hedidn’t offer Natasha any blueberries, though.

Itdidn’t mean anything, probably.

“Budgeup, budge up,” Tony announced, squirming his way onto the couchbetween Bucky and Sam with a huge bowl of popcorn. “You’re gonnalove this one, Buckaroo, it’s a classic.”

“Bywhich he means it’s almost as old as him,” Sam put in.

“Noone asked you, birdbrain,” Tony said haughtily. “No popcorn foryou! Here, Buckster, you’renice,I’ll share with you.”

Thatdefinitely didn’t have anything to do with Bucky; that was justTony making a point to Sam.

Wasn’tit?

Everythinghurt. Diving into the mouth of a giant squid to plant a concussiongrenade in its stomach had not been one of Bucky’s more inspiredplans. The blast had knocked Bucky out, and he’d woken in thehospital with a concussion, two cracked ribs, and a broken leg. Atleast the squid had upchucked him before deciding it was time toretire from the field.

Hewas pretty grateful to have been unconscious for that part.

Stevehad been there, waiting, when Bucky woke, but after reassuringhimself that Bucky was awake and on the mend, he’d gone back to theTower to catch some shuteye, instructing Bucky to do the same, andpromising someone would come over from the Tower first thing in themorning.

Noway was Bucky going to be able to sleep in a hospital. He dragged therolling table over and didn’t bother stifling a whimper at the wayhis ribs shifted when he leaned over to grab his tablet. Alone, withno one to see or tease him about it, he loaded up his favoriteWinteriron blog. He could use a fluffy AU story right about now.

Hehadn’t counted on there being footage from the fight already.Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, but that damn squid looked even bigger fromthe vantage of the news helicopter. Bucky’s own body lookedlaughably tiny, caught mid-leap.

Thenext picture took his breath away - a shot of Iron Man diving intothe water after the squid. Tony hatedbeingsubmerged; it was why he’d been in charge of clearing civilians forthis fight. What the hell. Bucky didn’t usually pay attention tothe Avengers’ own PR, but he flipped to a new tab and pulled up thenews.

Sonof a bitch. The squid hadn’t upchucked him. It had just… left.And Tony had gone after it, sliced it to ribbons in order to bringBucky back. The news site had a picture of Tony carrying him toshore, and it looked like those cracked ribs had nothing to do withthe concussive blast, and more to do with how tightly Iron Man washolding him.

…Huh.

Aknock at the door frame startled Bucky out of his thoughts. It wasTony, because of course it was. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’tsleep,” Tony said, in that forced-casual tone that Bucky hated.“Figured you wouldn’t be sleeping either. Steve forgets that notall of us can sleep anytime, anywhere.” He nodded toward thetablet. “Reviewing the fight?”

“Yeah.”Bucky tried to close the Winteriron tab, but only succeeded inbringing it to the front. Naturally, on one of those saccharinepictures with all the flowers and Deep Quotes ™. Bucky flailed andtried again, finally closing it.

Tony,still standing in the doorway, had frozen, eyebrows raised.

Buckyhad no idea what to say to fix things, so he just sat there, heartpounding.

“Funny,what people will come up with, isn’t it?” Tony said after a longmoment. He sounded strained, wary.

Almostas if he were worried about Bucky’s response.

Buckylooked at the picture on the news site again, and changed his mind:it was a damn shame he’d been unconscious, if it meant he missedfeeling Tony’s arms around him, even encased in armor.

“Maybenot… sofunny,”he said. It was a risk, but Bucky had to know. Tony’s breath caughtaudibly, and Bucky looked up.

Tony’seyes were wide and dark, and he clung to the door frame withwhite-knuckled strength. “Well,” he said softly. “Maybe not.”

~ @27dragons

[the-coven-of-equilibrium]

A Place For My Head

Respects Be with the beautiful Souls Chester Bennington & Chris Cornell, two legends who shone brighter with love than the stars, May you be Eternal… My Love, Prayers and Strength go out to all grieving at this time.

This is for LP, Anyone who has had their lives touched by Chester and LP, The Kids that connected from Day 1 and their little brothers and sisters, this is for anyone living with mental illnesses. This is for anyone with the heart and patience to read this part of my story. Now, to clarify, I’m not here to give you a play by play on Chester Bennington’s life, career or mental health etc, you can research that on google. This post is about the perspective of a loving fan, the influence on my life and how I know he touched the lives of so many others of our generations. For when you look past the statements from us i.e. “He helped me through so many dark times” and “they made my teen years bearable” this is what we mean and this is my connection to one of the most inspirational artists of my and younger generations time, someone who has done a whole lot of healing us. Let this not be undone in his death, for then darkness will truly prevail.

Warning: Before you continue reading, if you are feeling vulnerable and easily triggered, for a start, make sure you reach out, I know it’s hard but sometimes you have to, because people are unaware, secondly let them know having company can sometimes be enough as I find people feel nervous as they are unsure how to help- personally, simply being there can help sometimes, even if it doesn’t seem it. If that doesn’t work for centring yourself and you know what does then do it. If reading this triggers you, take care of your mental health and stop reading, do the best you can and notify someone then find something proactive, physical and connecting to do; walk to a park and sit on a swing for a bit, check out some nature etc, do your hobbies, push through okay? <3 If this makes you feel you want to share your story Please, do not hesitate to write me!

I’ve lived with suicidal demons for as long as I can recall, for me, it comes in waves or sometimes a reaction to stress and other triggers I will not go into. I’ve learned over many years this is irrational but this does not ever change involuntary thoughts of my death, this is often too hard for me to express because well, who wants to burden someone with that kind of heavy info right? Plus people seem to panic, people mean well but the reality for me is that I have to know who I can share this with and I’ve learned “my reach out network”- that’s what I call it. I have steps I take when I see my signs and I do my best to push through and it’s not the elixir of life but it can help a whole lot from a serious dark hole to a being in a weird mood for a little bit.

My Name is Denise, I am 28, I am a Mother of 2, A singer in a band and a mind that never switches off.

I live in Sydney, Australia J

It was a brisk Friday morning, the usual morning school rush to get the kids in, I skim over my socials, Mama tagged me in a post, I opened it and saw Chester’s face, though I did not read the headline. I jet out the door with the munchkins to rush home for my online orientation at 9am for this new Bachelors Degree I just started, since I’ve finally gotten my headspace back together again, after a traumatic couple of years and getting my life back on track with my path. Racing back home with excitement about my course and thinking through my busy day and thereafter, building up my plans in my head. I arrive home, quickly flick on the computer monitor, put away my belongings, got myself comfortable at my computer space open my orientation and as it loads check my notifications on FB  to read the words “Linkin Park Lead Singer Chester Bennington dies at 41, Suspected Suicide”-… A moment of hesitation before this registered, immediately I think “this is a hoax”, but my heart knew it wasn’t, It was on what would have been the late beautiful Chris Cornell’s birthday I thought, this was no accident… not knowing how close they had been. I felt like a piece of me died at that moment. A disorientating wave of emotions rolled over my whole body as tears began flooding. Just as hard, all the memories I connect to linkin park began to flow in from day 1 when I was an 11yr old self to this day, “the soul that resonated through myself and a generation alike, inspiring and humble with an energy I have yet to see matched, the words that held my spirit through my darkest places, the guy who set the bar in my mind on performance delivery of my 14 year old self…” My skin was crawling, I couldn’t stop crying and I still didn’t want to believe it, to be quiet blunt I wanted to die myself. My mind had begun spiralling and I could feel the dark swirling in me, beginning to take over my mind loosing focus of my day of what was in front of me, my hands began to shake and tingle and I didn’t know what to do with them-I thought to myself: “I’ve never felt this way, ever, when someone famous has died.” I knew what my pain was asking me to do but I was there enough to come back, I looked at my keyboard, sobbing, I click open a tab and decided to just write:- which transpired to be this blog. My first post.

As I type Incoherent spurts and whirls of anguish, I tried to avoid the media like the plague, though I checked some of my favourite artists out to see who was feeling the loss. The Plea from the Rock Community taking such losses is so evident its not being taken lightly by artists who also live with these demons, They want it to be clear to the fans that this isn’t the answer and to the fact we basically need to wake up to the real depression around us and all the complacency going on all around us. I’m right there with them, It is the very truth we need to recognise; this shouldn’t have happened, but it did and we need to do something about it, as a community to make this world more aware and equipped. And why was he alone???Almost intrusive, the pain starts to sink in further…” How could you just leave like that?” I’m mad!  I mean, as a mother… dude, He left 6 children, friends, family and a huge vulnerable fan basis behind…but he doesn’t deserve to be crucified in death for being weak in a moment of misjudgement…  I’m angry… though not enough that I will allow it to over shadow the suffering of this beautiful man or the legacy that remains in Linkin Park. It broke my heart to know he was alone, for all the times his words, voice and energy stopped me from self-harming through my teens and all my life, all those times I was at the brink with no self-esteem… If you find you are there, DO NOT BE ALONE.

; Because of LP and bands alike,we found a safe place for our battered, confused and angry souls. For me, it was enough to stop me from acting on the intrusive thoughts, and still is.

Stumbling across a review of the new album, I realised, I hadn’t made the time yet to check out the new Album, the wave came crashing down inside me like a tsunami after the quake; I felt so guilty, I claimed loyalty and I heard the single, yet I was so caught up in other music this year, I had overlooked my boys album release, how could I? I felt I had betrayed Chester in a way. That I failed how I would usually pledged my loyalty. Further, to go open The Track List for “One More Light” … Tears and sobs were all I could muster, One Glance at the track list I felt like I was reading a hopeless indirect goodbye from my hero, my weirdo friend who held my soul when no one was listening, who is now gone. The 2017 release of “One More light”…. With endless scolding reviews that Linkin Park no longer embodied the teen angst it did when I was a teenager, Crucified for apparently-“simple” lyrics and ”soft singing” and “a lack of connection”- are you kidding me?Maybe as i am someone who has lived with a mental illness, it was easy for me (and i am sure many others) to depict the tone of the album is a point, a point of extreme turmoil, the point of healing and change and pressure…( A familiar feeling I have endeavored through many a time and currently trailing out of the most recent spiral). The album is full of silent screams of his state of mind, he was so sad, letting it out. Really, the music and artist features were progressive, Chester was always honest about wanting to explore into more pop music as well, he told us this like 10 years ago… so they tried something new, in the truest Linkin Park form. Honing in on the generations wave without a stylistic intention at that, how can one deny they would be able to resonate with our youth today, the level of depression going on in youth today breaks my heart, most of us deal with remnants of complex generational trauma we didn’t ask for but try our damn best to deal with…  Heavy Really is a good example, They teamed up with an awesome artist who was all up and coming with the youth, they were with the times, always, so why be so critical because they weren’t afraid to grow. It’s a fucking sad and beautiful album at the same time… my resonation with this album is insane as always, I wasn’t afraid to see them change… do you know what it feels like when you’ve been crying so much and you need a fresh break that touches your soul…

So let’s time hop for a few paragraphs shall we? As an impressionable preteen, I looked to my cousin (who is 3 years older than me) who showed me some of what heavily influenced my music taste and style to this day.  Having been brought up around an immensely eclectic variety of music and free spirited people, it was without a doubt I was curious to hear everything everyone listened to or had to offer. I mean, it was and still is my thing, since I could possibly remember or imagine, nothing on this earth is parallel to my passion for music, people and writing poetry, nor has it been easy for me to share with my peers with surmountable anxieties around expectations from myself of myself, vicious cycle. 

By gosh did I fall head over heels for Linkin Park from the first listen, I would have been about 11yrs old, at the time I already liked some pretty obscure music, which we can also leave for another time. One step closer;  the first track I remember hearing of Linkin Park, my eyes beaming with this hype of energy building in my core and as it moves into “SHUT UP WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!” and the music just taking me over the bounce back between Mike and Chester and I remember smiling and this feeling of release.. straight away and every time since. Every track touched my heart.

My first memories when learning of Chesters suicide were of when I was 14 and my cousin bought me LPs “Live in texas” DVD & CD for Christmas, I played that DVD on repeat all summer and I was absolutely blown away by the whole band but as a singer I looked up to Chester, the way he commanded the stage with his multifaceted energy. The ability to be so raw, yet still so nurturing to their audience. I vividly remember “A Place For My Head” impacted me and stays with me the most, it became the level of expectation from artists from that point, Safe to say he blew me away and I hadn’t even seen them live!

Then the opportunity came in October of 2007 Minutes to Midnight Tour where I saw them live for the first time, and Chester was sick, he couldn’t scream and couldn’t give it his all, I remember feeling disheartened and felt bad for Chester, he didn’t have the best health. I was grateful they still played and I still enjoyed the show since it was so incredible and the band was so awesome and the visuals that show - wow. I never turn my back on artists on 1 sore performance though, so there was no hesitation when the next show came in December 11th 2010   A Thousand Suns World Tour.- I have to say I know any deep Linkin Park Fans will be mourning as deeply as I am, I know because I’ve felt it, discussed it and hear the respect and love we hold as fans for LP amongst my peers over the years! At School, random public awkward social situations and someone was repping an LP shirt and you felt safe to strike up a conversation, at parties they were the bonding point for so many of my scary situations,clubs, conerts,pubs,parks, Town Hall :P Just everything was that much more because of LP. In 2013 for Soundwave and Sidewaves They soared, Opening with faint a resonating crowd, singing to all the tracks, the heavy Linkin Park fans came out of the woodworks for tracks from Hybrid Theory and Meteora screaming and roaring along the lyrics while I’m being squished and people surging, with circle pits whirling next to me, as I’m centre stage 4 rows back, in my regular fashion, I found my kindred, losing our shit to every line, as well as our voices. Hanging onto every moment and following Chester back and forth across as hr owns the stage while the ever beautiful Mike Shinoda cradles Chester and the crowd with the rhymes that resonate through time and us in that moment, the energy, respect and love so true moving through the entire venue.  My Mama has seen some amazing shows in her time (My Music Guru) and she was blown away that the crowd response, still so strong and energetic for Linkin Park she said “Your crowd was so beautiful, You can see how much they love LP they sang every line of every song old and new and so respectful”  I gleamed a cheshire grin of pride at my mama..  

I could go through the entire track list and tell you how they correlate to my life and why, how each line, lick, scratch and scream resonates through my physical and spiritual being, to some they may have been just “an emo band” or “nu metal” but to me- Today My Hero Died and took a part of me with him more than I can still make sense of but I will instead explain something else. When I was 11 the worst time of my life began, things irreplaceable, things beyond my comprehension, to many things beyond control. It was at this time where I was lucky and found Linkin Park, as the years moved on, still passionately connected to LP and trapped in a private hell I shared with non but in outbursts of rage where my family would correlate Meteora to my mind frame, which is close but at the time I didn’t fully comprehend what I was hearing and why I felt so connected to Chester, I would later discover many obvious reasons why. I remember when Meteora Dropped, Oh man, My family remember when Meteora Dropped… everyone in my house ended up becoming a Linkin Park Fan after that… To me… What Linkin Park did for me sometimes as a teen who was dealing with a surmountable level of complex issues in her life (like most teens)… Linkin Park made things easier to face the world most days… a place for my head- exactly that- the anguish I felt was inadvertently at this peak of emotional drowning and I can easily tell you a better part of my youth had been Listening to LP alone or peers alike. Fast forward to 2017 and I am 28, only now have I woken up and begun to heal, only now just a mere 3 weeks ago did I begin my therapy to unravel the pain… To lose my hero… To affiliate on a confusing level and digress at the actions he chose.  Today… I sat in a taxi Blaring Linkin Park on my phone Balling my Eyes out and it was in waves over and over, At first i could bring myself to listen to a song, I opened the gate with “My December”… One More light…The song I would come to see significantly, every song broke my heart all over again. 

Learning more about Chester I discovered he was a fellow March Equinox baby, like me! J What some of the things he had faced were and how strong he was, how honest and kind he was. In all this, Chester was amazing, he was forgiving, loving and a beautiful person. He explored, experienced and conquered more than we can imagine, he sang with and is respected by timeless artists and became one himself. There is a void in my world knowing he is not on the planet anymore but I take solace in the beauty he left behind, even in death, a sad beauty of an unbearable loss amidst a riptide.

Chester,  So much more than just a singer, the inspirer, the honest humble soul, someone who has saved and touched millions of lives that span across entire generations. Reflecting with friends about Chester’s passing, people seem to feel stumped at the irony of the amount of people he helped in the world with sharing his pain with us.. the thing is as artists, this is our soul on show… a pain can be shared but not cured by this mere act, but to express the depth in which this turmoil revels. The Shadow is always there…

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_v1SLIt01Q0)

Imagine; You meet your hero, your idol growing up, you guys totally hit it off at a gig one time and become super close, so close you are gifted being godparent to their child. You abruptly loose this friend while on tour for an album which exploits depths of your mental illness which was misunderstood because it did not embody the angry teenager anymore but the healing of confronting your mind and the rage beneath the surface of the ocean… as an outsider if this is what I see, I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Chester, He Lost His New Harmony in loosing Chris…

One More Light… The Last Linkin Park Album with My Hero I will discover, and its more real then i could have ever imagined, I can’t stop playing every song from the album, and i never will.

Such a fucking amazing band LINKIN PARK, such gifted beautiful unforgettable individuals, such resonating souls of one band who changed and touched the lives of millions all over the planet, who are timeless, I’m sorry for your loss, I’m so sorry and I love you all, every element of LINKINPARK is a masterpiece of contrast and raw beauty. 

To my dear fellow LP and Chester Fans, Please do not despair, we know rationally what is right, so don’t give in and lose hope, we need to suck it up and keep in touch. Don’t hide, let it out and make this world a more beautiful place for each other. Put those tracks on that touch your heart and never forget what we lost in Chester but never forget what he was a part of building, still remains. The side projects he was a part of, the opportunities he explored for growth like being the front man for Stone Temple Piolets! The amount of bands and artists who were inspired to start writing because of Linkin Park, The Love and Respect that he gained through being a true working musician and person who overcame so much in living world and taught us how to heal when nobody was listening. Fuck the Media and their negative breeding avoid buying into peoples crap and remember what you value, remember how YOU connect, who you love and stay close to them, remember the thigs that shift our focus to a productive healthy place of love.

The answer is not out, it is in, be unafraid to be real, keep it raw. Peace.

Chester, you will forever inspire my art as you already did, I will forever be motivated to heal. I love you for everything, thank you

-D'Amor Feroz