#or imagine starting a band in college and making four friends who are so goddamn funny so you make some videos together

[sesamie]

i just can't stop thinking like. they were just friends hanging out doin stuff together. sometimes these people on radio stations would invite them on and they'd make jokes and tease each other and not take things seriously and say "ross is the best member of the band" and all these things like. 10 years ago, i was a tiny child and these people were living lives being friends with one another. 10 years from now the tiny children alive now will be much older and i wonder where we'll be by then.

right?? like. ‘it started actually as a t-shirt selling business’ like that has to be an inside joke they’d had for forever either that or it was just. something they said and everyone rolled with it cause they knew eachother well enough, either way ,cryyyy..and these days you see people in youtube comments like ‘man i really liked you guys. i won a signed cd and got to see a couple shows and it was a pretty good time. sad you guys broke up’ like what??? they dont get it?? they got to see real life tally hall shows when i was, what? four years old? imagine listening to morning becomes eclectic on KCRW in 2006 (the Actual year i was Born!!!!) and calling in like ‘hey i haven’t won anything in a while can i get uhhhh signed marvin’s marvelous mechanical museum 2005 version’ and they go ‘oh sure we’ve got plenty stop by the radio station to pick it up this afternoon’ . incredible. imagine watching the late late show back then and seeing this band come on, dressed up real nicely for some reason?? and then they start to play and ur like. well then . and then they keep going and you fall in love with them and log on to your 2008 computer and type in ‘tally hall’ and find yourself in the HITS forums a week later. imagine being a kid who heard a band was coming to play at your high school today, so you think hey why not lets go see it!! and its the best thing you’ve ever heard. 

also like, someone out there is an infant right now. they’ll be around four years old when we graduate high school . someone is the same age to me as i am to rob cantor??? the passage of time never fails to puzzle me 

[fruitcoops]

I was watching this video w Megan Rapinoe & Sue Bird (tumblr won’t let me link but it’s from 2 days ago on GQ- they ask each other questions but it’s like quiz style?) and didn’t know if you would want to do something similar for coops? Some of the stuff they said/how they acted reminded me of coops’ dynamic

Anon, this video was the perfect way to spend an evening. Both these women are my role models and they’re unbelievably cute together--go check out the video here if you have the chance! Their dynamic is a lot like how I imagine Coops, too! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hey, Lions, we’re back!” Sirius waved at the camera and tapped a short stack on notecards on his thighs. “I’m Captain Sirius Black of the Gryffindor Lions and I’m here with my fiancé, Remus Lupin, to do another couple game.”

“The response to our last few interviews was incredible and we had a great time,” Remus continued. “Miss Marlene McKinnon was kind enough to drag us back in here to answer even more questions!”

“Do you want to go first?”

“Sure.” Remus cleared his throat and pulled the first card. “What are my parents’ first names?”

“Hope and Lyall.”

“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. What’s my hidden talent?”

“You can sing.”

“Does that count? I feel like most people know that now.”

“Hmm.” Sirius thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knees. “You can cook really well.”

“Thank you, baby. What’s my favorite accessory?”

Sirius brightened. “Your watch!”

“Yes!” Remus held it up to the camera—it was simple and elegant, with a leather band and a small face. He wore it with the clock against the inside of his wrist, just above his pulse point. “What is my dream travel destination or vacation?”

“Oh, that’s tough.” Sirius bit his lip in thought. “Seattle? Paris?”

“I do want to go to Seattle, but I’ve always wanted to go to Montreal,” Remus said. “You’ve seen my hometown, but I’ve never been to yours.”

Sirius frowned. “Really?”

“Really. What am I most afraid of?”

“I think…I think you’re most afraid of not being useful,” Sirius said after a moment. “For six years, your job was all about helping people, and it’s not now.”

Remus raised his eyebrows at the camera. “I was going to say the dentist’s office. Goddamn.”

“Sorry,” Sirius laughed. “Yeah, you don’t like medical facilities.”

“I mean, you weren’t wrong about the useful thing,” Remus said. “You still get a point for that. What’s my favorite music, song, or artist to listen to before a game?”

“You don’t have one.”

“That was quick. Half a bonus point for speed. When was our first date and what did we do?”

“Our first official date was just after All-Stars and we went to Sid’s, but we had been together for about three months at that point and just hung out at each other’s houses.”

Remus grinned. “Do you remember what day it was?”

“January 28th.” Sirius gave him a look. “I know for a fact you don’t know what day it was.”

“January 28th.”

“You only know that because I just said it!” Sirius smacked him playfully with his cards. “Next question.”

“What’s my favorite movie and TV show?”

“Jurassic Park and Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

He whistled the first part of the theme song as Sirius did the hand motions. “What’s my shoe size?”

“Oh, god,” Sirius muttered, staring down at the floor. “Eleven? Eleven and a half? You have smaller feet than I do, but not by much.”

“I’m a size ten.”

“Are you really?”

Remus pulled one sneaker off and handed it to him with a laugh. “Check for yourself. Oh, I’d love to know the answer to this one. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Sirius tossed his shoe back with a snort. “You make faces.”

Remus seemed surprised. “Do I?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a very expressive face and the second you’re pissed, it’s written all over it. It’s like—” Sirius pursed his lips and scrunched his nose slightly. “I can’t really do it, but anytime I see that I’m like, ‘oh, shit, what did I do?’ Also, you stop calling me baby.”

“That’s what I was going to say. What’s my favorite city to play in?”

“Not Florida.”

“Not fucking Florida,” Remus agreed with a grin.

“Gryffindor for sure.”

“Where was I born?” He gave Sirius a teasing look. “Do you know this time, or should I get my mom on the line?”

Sirius stuck his tongue out. “Madison, Wisconsin.”

Remus glanced at the camera. “We got asked this question in an interview a few months ago and he had to call my mom afterward because he forgot.”

“She made fun of me the whole time,” Sirius pouted.

“What is my favorite food? Oh, you’ll get this one for sure.” Sirius hesitated and Remus’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“I’m a little torn. It’s either my grilled cheese or your dad’s turkey-cranberry thing. Actually, I don’t think you know what your favorite food is.”

Remus nodded slowly. “That’s a really good point. My first thought was grilled cheese, but my dad makes the best postgame sandwiches. I’ll give you that. What’s my favorite hobby?”

“Reading.”

“What did I want to be when I was a kid?”

“A librarian, until you started playing hockey.”

Remus leaned over and high-fived him. “You’re on a roll, baby. What was my jersey number in college?”

“Number six.”

“The transition was so fucking easy,” Remus laughed. “Coach literally came up to me a month before practices started and went ‘hey, what was your old number?’ and I told him, and he looked down at his clipboard and went, ‘cool.’. I got my jersey two weeks later.”

“Is this your last question?”

“It is, indeed. What’s my full birth name?”

“Remus Jehosephat Lupin.”

“That is incorrect.”

“Close enough. It’s Remus John Lupin, which I find endlessly funny.”

“Why is it funny?” Marlene asked off-screen. Remus hid his face behind his notecards as Sirius laughed.

“Because it’s such a basic middle name! I love Hope and Lyall with my entire heart and they’re wonderful people, but they named their sons Remus and Julian and then I think they got stuck. Like, you’ve got these two very uncommon first names and they sort of went ‘fuck it. John and Michael. We’re done.’ It’s just so funny.”

“Whereas your parents went the extra mile and gave you and Reg goddamn supervillain names,” Remus snorted. “The drama of it all, my god.”

“Alright, alright, my turn.” Sirius leaned his elbows on his knees. “What is my favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“How do I like my coffee?”

Remus hissed between his teeth. “Ah, shit, you always make the coffee. With a lot of sugar, right? It’s black with sugar?”

“It can’t be black if it has sugar in it,” Sirius laughed. “But yes, I do put sugar in my coffee. What are three things I never leave the house without?”

“Keys, wallet, phone.”

“My favorite TV show?”

“Why are you going through these so fast? Uh, Avatar.”

“Did I ever have a job that wasn’t playing hockey?”

“Nope.” Remus frowned. “Were you allowed to get a job as a kid?”

“I was not. What’s my favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Cookies and cream.”

Sirius made a buzzer noise. “Incorrect.”

“Is it chocolate?”

“Yep. You get half a point for that. What’s the first meal I ever cooked for you?”

Remus gave him a look. “You don’t remember what you cooked for me, do you?”

“Refresh my memory?”

“No way!” He punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m not falling for my own tricks. Next question.”

“It’s kind of a repeat from earlier. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Remus fiddled with the edges of his cards. “You act all weird and Captain-y, and then you get quiet. Just cranky vibes all around.”

“Cranky vibes,” Sirius laughed. “Good to know. What are my favorite movie-watching snacks?”

“Popcorn and…Sweet Tarts?”

“Yes!” Sirius gave him a high-five. “Do you know what I like on my popcorn?”

“Butter and enough salt to kill a Victorian child.”

“Bonus point! What is—oh, shit!” He nearly fumbled the cards onto the floor. “What is my favorite movie of all time?”

“Indiana Jones.”

“Which one?”

“The one with Marian, because she reminds you of me.” Remus looked over at the camera. “I really don’t like snakes.”

“What is the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning?”

“Oh, I think this requires a demonstration. C’mere.”

“Does it really?” Sirius sighed as he laid down next to him.

“For sure.” Remus cuddled into his side and laid his head on his shoulder. “Alright, the key to a true Sirius Black wake-up is getting all four limbs wrapped around the other person like you’re trying to suffocate them with affection.”

“Okay—”

“And then,” Remus continued with a grin. “I go, ‘honey, wake up’—”

“You absolutely do not.”

“In my head, that’s what I say. It’s very sweet. To answer the question, the first thing Sirius does is this.” He buried his face in Sirius’ chest and groaned loudly, then dissolved into snickering as Sirius’ chest began to shake with suppressed laughter. “Stop it, you’re ruining the demonstration!”

“You forgot the part where I have to peel you off me with pliers and grease,” Sirius teased as they stood up, dusting themselves off. The camera crew applauded and they both bowed. “Alright, where were we? What am I most scared of?”

“Losing your friends and family,” Remus said. “Also, spiders and most bugs.”

“You forgot one.”

“Which one? The dish soap bubbles?”

“Losing you.”

A vibrant blush tinted Remus’ cheeks and ears, and he floundered for words. “Oh.”

“You still get the points, though,” Sirius said mildly. “What city do I like playing in the most?”

Remus paused for a moment longer, then shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Uh, Gryffindor. You like the crowd.”

“I do.” Sirius smiled at the camera. “To all the fans out there: you are incredible and there is nothing like skating out with everybody roaring so loud the windows shake. Who is my biggest hockey influence?”

“Now, or when you were younger?”

“Now.”

“It’s Dumo, right?”

Sirius nodded. “On and off the ice. What’s my proudest career moment?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Remus said sarcastically. “Could it possibly be winning the Stanley Cup?”

“Just maybe,” Sirius laughed. “What’s my most famous celly, and which one’s my favorite?”

Remus grinned. “Lightning McQueen.”

“I hate it when you call it that.” Despite his words, Sirius was smiling. “It’s supposed to be cool!”

“Can you elaborate?” Marlene asked.

“I mean, most people who have seen him play know what I’m talking about,” Remus said, gesturing to the camera. “But Sirius’ famous celly is a double fist pump, and I call it the Lightning McQueen because it’s like ka-chow! It’s also his favorite one, though he dances when we’re skating alone or with a couple of the guys.”

“Shhh, they aren’t supposed to know that!” Sirius covered Remus’ mouth with his notecard. “This is the very last one. What is my biggest pet peeve?”

“When I leave my socks laying around the house.”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! That drives me fucking bonkers. Marley, who won?”

“It wasn’t a competition,” she said off-screen. “Just a Q & A.”

“Who got the most right?” Remus asked.

“You two are hopeless,” she muttered. There were a few beats of silence. “Remus won, with sixteen and a half out of seventeen. Sirius, you had fifteen and a half.”

“No.” Sirius groaned and dropped his head into his hands as Remus whooped.

“Hell yes!”

“My bonus points let you win.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this.”

Remus faced the camera with a victorious smile. “Thanks for joining us to witness my landslide victory—”

“It was one point.”

“And make sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content! See you around, Lions.” They both mock-saluted, and the video ended.

[bluejeanlouis]

COMING SOON: The Yellow Roof, 1970s AU by kiddle

Louis is a gifted musician spending his days on the wrong side of a drive-thru window. Harry is the lead singer of a band in need of a little talent. Their big break is a thousand miles away. 

Preview under the cut:

With a deep sigh, Louis leaned his chair on its back two legs, propping one of his feet up next to the till in front of him. The sun was blinding between the trees of the neighbourhood across the street, striking his eyes through the drive-thru window. He yanked the blind closed even though he wasn’t supposed to when the Fotomat was open. But there was no one around and his ability to give a shit had decreased significantly today. Slurping on the can of Coke he brought with him, he pulled out his lyric book.

Louis was not a poet. In fact, the pretentious and dull poetry class he took in his second semester at college was detrimental in his decision to drop out a year later. He didn’t like the confusion of poetry and the rules despite being an art form that claimed to be free of them. Don’t get him wrong, he was confident in his own writing, he just didn’t want to be taught how to do it.

But one look under the cover of that notebook would reveal pages and pages of poetic garbage. Some of it was great, and a couple had even ended up as actual songs back when Louis was performing solo at bars before he gave up on that too. Most of it was scribbled chicken scratch. That was just his process.

He held the notebook against his knees, tracing dark lines across the last words he wrote last night with his pen. It was some bullshit angsty heartbreak harnessed from his high school first love mixed with the anger of being sacked from a band that he was the best instrumentalist in. Sometimes that kind of emotion makes for a perfect writing session, and sometimes it’s a diary entry you never want to see the light of day.

Louis bit the end of his pen, rereading the words on his page. ‘Heart’ had to be the most overused word in love songs, and he had it down in every verse and the chorus. Love songs weren’t even what he wanted to write about. It wasn’t the only feeling out there. It sure as hell wasn’t the most predominant one in his mind.

A loud and abrupt knock on the window made Louis nearly leap out of his seat. His notebook and pen tumbled to the ground as he dropped his feet from the desk. He yanked on the string to make the blind spring back up, knocking his Coke over in the process. He picked it up just as quick, groaning at the mess it made. All the commotion caused the stack of pickup envelopes next to the widow to splay out over the desk in front of him. Now that the customer could see him, he tried to push him all out of the way before he slid the window open.

“Hi, welcome to— Shit!”

One of the envelopes had landed in the small puddle of spilled Coke. He tried to wipe it off on his jeans as quickly as he could before returning it to the scattered pile with the others. Once he finally composed himself, he tried to greet the customer properly.

But then his face fell to disgust.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left so quickly yesterday, we didn’t have the chance to talk,” said Harry, the lead singer of Louis’ former going-nowhere band. Harry had one hand casually rested on the steering wheel, the other elbow poking out the window, and sunglasses sitting low on his nose. Louis hated how effortlessly cool he could always look. It made him the perfect goddamn lead singer.

Louis rolled his eyes. “What did you want me to do? Beg for you to let me stay? ‘You’re out of the band’ was pretty loud and clear.”

“I mean, I thought we could have a discussion about it.”

“So you showed up to my work to have a discussion about it?” He hunched over so just his head was sticking out the window, his fist squished into his cheek to hold his head up.

“You wouldn’t answer the phone last night.”

“Take a hint,” he snapped, then slid the window shut with enough force to make it bounce halfway open again. He pushed it the rest of the way closed in a huff.

But Harry hadn’t driven away yet, so Louis slumped over in his chair and refused to look in his direction. Why the hell would he show up here? Just to rub it in his face? The new guy always loses the band argument. Louis was over it, and he had the faint remnants of a hangover to prove it.

He took a swig of his Coke that was now almost empty. No one ever left any napkins around here, but a few tissues seemed to do the trick to sop up that puddle. As he tried to avoid getting sticky hands, Louis could see Harry getting out of his car in the bottom corner of his eye. Then he heard the window opening again.

“Louis, listen to me,” Harry pressed. He had his hand in the way so Louis couldn’t shut it, but it did cross Louis’ mind to crush his fingers just to get him out of here.

“Go away,” he stated, pulling the roller blind between them. If only it was soundproof.

The blind sprung up again, revealing a wildly frustrated Harry on one side and an indifferent Louis on the other. He was pretending to read a copy of Vogue that one of the girls from the after-school shift left behind last night.

“We have a meeting with a record company in L.A. and they’re expecting a four-piece to show up. There’s no time to find a new bassist, so you’re back in the band.”

Louis folded down one corner and peeked his eye over Carrie Fisher’s head.

“How’d you get a meeting? The band sucks.”

Harry stared at him, angrily chewing on his lip, then turned around with a huff. “Fuck you,” he muttered, opening his car door.

Louis waited for him to start the engine and leave, but then the words “L.A.” and “record company” flashed with lights and sirens in his mind, and he imagined this opportunity driving off and never looking back.

“Wait!” Louis called out, tossing the magazine to the side and launching himself out the back door. He ran across the front of the car and slammed his hands on the hood so Harry couldn’t move the car an inch further. They eyed each other, and when Louis trusted that Harry wouldn’t speed off the moment he moved, Louis ran around to the passenger seat and got in.

Harry shook his head, both hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for ten years, man,” he said.

So maybe Louis wasn’t being totally truthful about what happened with the band.

Louis met Harry in his first year of middle school. They ended up in the same gym class, which was hell for every twelve-year-old, but for people like Louis and Harry, it was just a little too much to bear. They found skillful ways to ditch whenever possible, especially when it came to running the mile. Sometimes they’d hang out near the back of the group when everyone was filling out the gym doors, then slip out the side and circle the building before the teacher saw. The equipment closet was full of plenty of hiding spaces that begged to be taken advantage of. The best days were when they had a substitute who wouldn’t even notice that they never came back from a bathroom break in the change room.

In high school, they drifted, hanging out in the same group of freaks and burnouts, but not often with each other. They’d find themselves at the same parties and bickering in the same cars full of friends, but that initial bond had faded. Once college rolled around, they weren’t surprised to find out they’d be going to the same state school, but discovering their dorms were across the hall from each other was quite the shock.

They had become inseparable again, except for the inevitable monthly fights that left them not speaking to each other for days at a time. That went on for about two years until Louis dropped out and Harry continued with his literature degree. During that time, they hardly saw each other at all. Louis began to wonder if their friendship had only ever been one of convenience. But just as the year of 1972 was beginning, Louis got a phone call from that on-and-off best friend of his asking if he wanted to join his band.  

Harry and Louis fought from day one, but just as much as they hated each other’s guts, they loved each other too. Louis would still consider Harry his friend, but he would have no problem telling him what an insufferable bastard he was right to his face. It was a brotherly bond. Sort of.

“How’d you get the meeting?” Louis asked, turning sideways in his seat. “When is it?”

“We sent in our demo and they want to talk to us. That’s it,” he said. “The meeting is next week and they want all of us there.”

“Me included?”

“You’re on the demo.”

The demo was pretty shit if you asked Louis, but he decided to keep that to himself. They recorded it at their old college in the crummy basement studio run by students, and you could guess that by the first listen. Louis looked out at the empty parking lot ahead of them. He had memorized every detail of this parking lot. It had become the scenery for his life. He couldn’t wait until he never had to look at it again.

“Do you actually want me back in the band?” Louis wondered, sincerity in his voice for once.

“I—” Harry started, but didn’t look him in the eye. “I want to be at a place where you could be in the band without the two of us constantly at each other’s necks.”

“That would be nice, yeah,” Louis sighed.

They sat in silence, Louis weighing his options and Harry wondering if he really should’ve taken that ignored phone call as a hint.

“So, what, is this to discuss an album deal?” Louis asked, hoping more detail might help his decision.

“It’s to discuss our potential. They didn’t tell me a whole lot, but if they want to spend their time on us then they gotta have some hope.”

A car horn blared loudly behind them, an impatient customer waiting his turn to desperately develop the photos from his five-year-old’s birthday party, surely. It startled them, but that was Louis’ cue to get back to work, he supposed.

“Can I think about it?” Louis asked. He was already halfway out the door.

“Not for too long. We meet them next week.”

The horn blared again.

“One second!” Louis called out. The guy in the car flipped him the bird and Louis wasn’t hesitant to send him one right back.

“What’s the label?”

“CBS,” Harry said.

Shit, Louis thought. CBS was no joke.

“Move your fucking car!” the guy behind them hollered out his window.

Harry glanced at the angry face in his rear-view mirror, then ignored it completely. Louis looked like he was about to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. “Before you go, take this.” He dropped a roll of film into Louis’ open palm.

Louis looked at it curiously, his other hand on the door handle. “What’s this?”

Harry laughed. “Photos I need to get developed. This is a Fotomat, is it not?”

“It is,” Louis said slowly.

“I’ll be back in twenty-four hours,” Harry said, plucking his sunglasses off the dash and sliding them onto his face. “For those photos and for an answer.”

[shadowofmytime]

>> some of my absolute favorites ! like and reblog if you save and enjoy ! happy reading and give some kudos to these amazing writers ! always feel free to send me some of your favorites ! ! <<

>> There is a bit so for your convenience they are in alphabetical order ! The ‘s’s are some of my all-time favorites ! ! <<

>> min yoongi x park jimin <<

All the seasons of your love - 5k+ [college au]

The movement in the library was still slow in the first week, so Yoongi could easily remember the few people who came by. That's why he pays so much attention to a certain dark-haired freshman who walks in on a Wednesday afternoon - or at least that's what he tells himself. He goes over to the front counter and asks Yoongi for directions to the Economy 101 session and, God, his voice is as sweet as his eye-smile.

Or how librarian Yoongi fell head over heels for cute freshman Park Jimin who, unfortunately, was very much straight - or so Yoongi thought.

Bon Voyage - 47.9+ [tourist! au]

Yoongi was meant to be taking the trip of a lifetime with his boyfriend. But now he's in Paris, alone and miserable. That is until he collides - quite literally - with one Park Jimin.

Boys who talk shit - 26k+ [college au]

When Yoongi enrolled in BTS (aka Boys who Talk Shit) Boarding School, he wasn't really expecting to be the only 'straight' (to be read sarcastically) guy in a room of seven geniuses (aka children aged five to ten, honestly). Plus four pet spiders. Yes, plural.

Chaotic episodes in A Place of Love and War, where Yoongi learns all about True Love via Park Jimin, Music and Marriage. Sort of. Brain bleach and earplugs are strongly recommended.

Conflicting arrangement - 162k+ [fake boyfriend au]

"Absolutely not," Yoongi deadpanned. "Namjoon-ah. I value you as a friend, and I think I'd even go as far as to say that you're my best friend, but absolutely fucking not."

"You owe me," Namjoon pleaded. "Come on, Yoongi, it's not a big deal."

"Your boyfriend's best friend's best friend needs a fake boyfriend to come out to his family this Chuseok, all the way in fucking Busan," Yoongi repeated drily without pause, making Namjoon wince. He flipped a page of his textbook, picking up his highlighter. "Not a big deal, Namjoon. Amazing."

Cotton Candy - 240k [high school rock band]

"He could get used to sitting next to Yoongi like this. To have him around. To have the band around. To smile and feel happy. To see Yoongi sitting in front of an instrument and having him play just for him.

'If this was my happy ending,' Jimin thinks, resisting the urge to lean his head on Yoongi's shoulder, 'if I wasn't who I am, I'd just let you have me whenever you want. You could have me anytime.'"

As spring turns into summer, school band Cotton Candy unexpectedly loses its singer and the members are forced to look for a new vocalist. Six boys find one in the form of the promiscuous pink-haired boy Park Jimin who makes a home in their hearts and finally finds a place he belongs

Daegu drift - 53k+ [motorcyclist / playboy au]

Jimin stops in Daegu for a big motor show and gets caught up with the locals. Specifically one Min Yoongi.

Sneak Peek:

Yoongi has his arms folded as he stares Jimin down.

“Are you going to join the rally, or not?”

Jimin takes his time answering because he likes the way Yoongi is looking at him. “Sure. I guess it could be fun. But you do realize none of you have a chance against a Bugatti, right?”

“It’s not the car that wins the race,” the other man says. “It’s the driver. You could have the fastest, best-equipped car in the goddamn universe, but if you’re a shit driver, it doesn’t make a difference.”

Goodbye from lonely - 65k+ [uncle yoongi!]

Park Jimin works two jobs that he loves and is going to college to get his teaching degree.

Min Yoongi is a personal assistant who hates his job and spits in his boss' coffee every day.

Kim Taehyung has been infatuated with his clueless co-worker for the better part of a year.

Jeon Jeongguk has a three-year-old daughter that he'd do anything for.

Somehow the tiny human brings them all together.

Or

Tae is in love with Kookie -> Kookie's daughter takes Jimin's ballet class -> Yoongi is Kookie's stepbrother -> Jimin and Yoongi meet because of Kookie's daughter.

In your eyes (it’s where I wanna be) - 5.5k [coffee shop! au]

Jimin pauses with his marker inches away from the cup, because — is he really going to do this? Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned to write something flirty on a coffee cup? But no matter what his churning gut says about the danger and what the hell are you doing do you want to die, this guy is — with no better way to put it — totally Jimin’s Type with a capital T.

(Or: Jimin accidentally starts a nickname war with the cute blonde who likes his coffee way too bitter.)

Inked flowers - 6.4k [tattoo artist / florist au]

Something stopped him. A sound of a piano. He looked around and saw a light coming from the window on the other side of the street. On the third floor was an open window. A light and the sorrowful sound of a piano flew out of the room. Jimin looked closer and saw a figure or at least a top of someone's head.

The melody was so sad and sorrowful that Jimin wanted to cry. He started thinking, what could possibly go inside that person’s head? What were they thinking? Jimin just hoped that they weren’t sad and alone.

(let me see you) get high then low - 4k+ [photographer/model au]

"The light-haired model is the kind that fascinates Yoongi, and at the same time, he prefers to steer away from. He's all smiles and flowers, drawing you in with his cuteness until he's not anymore. Suddenly, he’s something else entirely; he's that false calm, the ocean that looks smooth on the surface but will drag you down to its depths if you dare to touch it."

or

Min Yoongi works in a photography studio with some (very questionable) friends that can't get any work properly done without making a bit of a fuss.

Park Jimin is a model handcuffed against his will and bored. Also a little bit horny, maybe.

Math Tutor - 11.7k [bad boy! yoongi]

Min Yoongi is the school's resident Bad Boy™. He's covered in tattoos, is pierced, curses like a sailor, smokes like crazy, doesn't give a shit about anything, possesses a hot temper that has people steering clear of him, and is desperately in love with Park Jimin, the adorable math nerd. When Jimin is tasked with tutoring Yoongi in math, who is in danger of failing the class and being held back a year, both boys are hesitant. Yoongi because he can't think straight around the boy with startling red hair, and Jimin because Yoongi is scary as hell and looks like he can easily kill someone. Gradually, though, the two grow closer, and Jimin finds that Yoongi is nothing like how he'd imagined.

Maybe I hate you can be our always - 35.9k [enemies to lovers]

When Yoongi thinks about it, really gives it genuine thought, it's possible that Park Jimin isn't the worst person in the world.

//

(Or, Yoongi and Jimin get off on the wrong foot.)

Ode to yoonmin - 4k+ [texting]

yoongi and jimin are in very much in love but they're the only ones who don't know it

OR

chat fic with a bunch of bad jokes and memes ¯\_(ツ)_/

Out of my system - 101.6k+ [one night stand]

Yoongi likes one night stands and he understands how they work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how he ended up in bed with a probably-not-legal kid crying in his arms about his broken heart, because he’s pretty sure (and correct him if he’s wrong) that a babysitting job was not what he was looking for when he went to the opening of his friend’s new club

Standing on the brink of 376 - 42.9k+ [street racing]

When Taehyung woke him up at three AM to go to a street race—an illegal one, no less—claiming it would help his social anxiety, Jimin never actually expected it to do much for him, except maybe make him cry hysterically. He found that he really wasn't too far off-kilter with that assumption, but it was only after he'd suffered through countless bouts of insecurity that he realized, hidden behind each stuttered breath, every inevitable tear, every spark of unavoidable fear, and even the customary cloud of cigarette smoke itself, lay a tremendous amount of affection for a certain platinum haired street racer that he can't even begin to justify. But when his opinion of fact, fate, and even life itself continues to blur with each push of the gas pedal, he thinks he just might be able to forgive himself for falling in love with a criminal, when the nonsensical moonshine of the present mutes the anxiety that had been a constant within his heart up until this November.

Strawberry lube - 82.7k+ [college au]

Yoongi remembers little to nothing of their crazy drunken night out. But of two things he's absolutely sure, one: he's not gay, two: he just slept with Park Jimin

The Paradiso Lounge - 192k+ [photographer/stripper au]

“Do I have to pay you for that service?”

This isn’t a dream (let me love you) - 26k+ [highschool au]

As captain of his high school’s basketball team, Min Yoongi dedicated all of his attention to his team and their games. His focus on the game never waned, not once for anything or anyone.

Well, until head cheerleader Park Jimin flashed his abs during a solo cheer and made him fuck up his shot

Trying to Behave (but you know we never learned how) - 329k+ [non-idol! au]

It's been years since Yoongi's last seen him and the younger boy is a shell of his former self in a way that makes his heart twist in his chest. And yet, after all this time and countless days of convincing himself to let him go, he's still unconditionally, head over heels in love with Park Jimin.

(Jimin and Yoongi grow up together.)

Valentino Summers - 657k+ [‘80s gangsters]

Whether or not Jimin was smuggling drugs really didn’t matter. He was hustling, and these days that was all there was to it.

Hustle and survive or struggle and die.

Y/N masterlist  << check it out !! xoxo

[queen-rogah]

So close, yet so far (John Deacon x Reader)

Summary: After your major heartbreak, you have called the only friend that will always listen to what you'll say. Confessions exposed unhand, but would he feel the same way too?...

Warnings: PURE ANGST and Mild Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

This fic is inspired from a song called "Every Time" by Janet Jackson, because that song really give me the huuuuge feels

MASTERLIST

They say being in love was the best thing that will happen in your life. Love will come, they say. You'll just wait for the one, like your mother said. You have found him, a guy that was sharing his love to you in years of your life, you have shared the biggest memories, the most intimate ones, and the time that he got down on one knee for you, asking you to marry him. You broke down in tears, can't contain how happy you are, how lucky you are. The ring that was slipped on your wedding finger shows that this love for him will last.

But four years after those moments, it all got burned down in flames. You knew that he got another woman behind your back, and the worst thing is they got it going on for about a year. That broke you so much that you didn't eat much for two days. He's still there asking for forgiveness about what he did, but it's not that easy to forgive and forget. Especially when that person who you loved the most did that to you. You ended the engagement and left his home, finding your own place.

And then you start to think, every time you fall in love with someone else, it seems like it won't ever last. Months have passed, you start to move on and didn't plan on dating someone this time. So you spend your time with your friends, going back home in your family house and now you're here, on the phone with your friend for almost years you can't count.

"It's nice to hear you again Deaky." You spoke, hearing him chuckle on the other line.

"Yeah, I've been busy today, I'm sorry I didn't attend on the party you hosted last week. I got in a band!." He said in enthusiasm. You grinned on his good news, remembering that he really wants to be in a band since he knows to play some instruments. Doing a jam with him back when you're both freshmens in college really is a memorable memory.

"Oh really? I'm proud of you Deaky! And well, do you have some time now? I will open my bottle of Don Perignon just for you because you got in a band." You said, looking over to the champagne on the coffee table. You have planned on drinking tonight, but you hate doing it alone.

"I'm pretty available right now, I'm coming over by 10. Keep the champagne untouched for me." He said and you laughed.

"Yeah yeah, see you later Deaky." You said and said your goodbyes. You soon brought out two glasses and enjoyed listening to some music while waiting for John. When you heard the doorbell rang, you quickly stood up from the couch and fixed yourself up and stood in front of the door.

You open it to see him, smiling sweetly at you. You both got in a huge hug, feeling that same emotion that you've missed each other.

"How are you love?." He asked, letting him in your house.

"I feel amazing! Better than best." You replied, "Now let's sit down and talk about the band you just joined. I'm dying to know them."

You and John sat on the couch, pouring your glasses with the champagne before he talked about the band he's in. "Well, it's a band named Queen. They are all nice guys, Brian, the guitarist, Roger, the drummer and Freddie on vocals. We actually have our first album by now! You're really missing out." He teased at you.

"I really don't go out of my house since the last months and years. I'm sorry I've been too distant to all of my friends, including you ever since--" You trailed off, looking down on your champagne glass. You are thinking about the breakup again.

"Ever since Elijah left you. I heard the news from your parents Y/N. You haven't told a single thing to me, I swear if I see that bastard..." He fumed. You held his hand and squeezed it to calm him down.

"He's been out of my life for a year now Deaky, don't worry about him. He's a goddamn bastard and we know that, but...we have to move on." You said. He sighed and looked at you, staring at his tired eyes.

"I'm just worried about you Y/N. You've been my friends since highschool. You don't deserve that kind of pain." He said in concern. You can't help but to tear up a bit because you're just so lucky to have the sweetest man in your life.

Then you start to think, John had been your friend, you also have shared the best memories with him, like the memories you've shared with your ex-fiancé before and then you remembered one memory with John, the one that you have kissed him through truth or dare with your friends. You have this sudden feelings for him after that kiss, he doesn't know you have the sentiment of liking him. Until now he still doesn't know that happened to you.

So you wonder, Elijah isn't really meant for you, and you think that this man in front of you is the one. After all this time, you've been with the wrong person.

"John..." You said and he furrowed his brows when you called him John, knowing that you're saying something serious to him.

"Do you remember the summer of 1968? The truth or dare?..."

You saw a smile on his face as he reminisce those times, "Yeah. I remember."

"The time that they dared you to kiss me, John it moved me. That kiss...changed my life when we're both at 17. It...changed my relationship with you before." You stammer a bit, afraid to look at him as he listens to your confession, "It's wrong to feel those feelings to you because we're friends and I know we have those limitations and other things...but I really can't hide it anymore. And now I'm here telling you 6 years after that--"

"...that?..." He pushed you to speak further as you bite down your lip. He looked nervous, obviously because his leg is now bouncing up and down in anxiety.

"That I love you. More than we are. I know it would be so complicated for you and me. It's just...I can't hide it anymore. I'm not that teenager that is secretly in love with her friend." You finally said it, dropping those words at him that you wanted to do it before.

"Y/N..." He replied and hold your hands, "I love you too, but--"

"--But?."

"But I can't. I...I can't explain it Y/N." He stammers

And there you're rejected.

"I...oh god I'm so stupid, I just want to say those words for a long time now. I know you'll say that, I know that...every time I just fall in love, it never seem to last. But John, every time that you're near, I have this fear that I can make a mistake for our friendship and here I am, doing it now." You suddenly cried and felt his arms wrapped around you.

"I know it's been a tough time for you Y/N, but...I really just can't. I love you so much, but not in that way you wanted it to be." He said, mumbling those words on your temple as he plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

You didn't want to let him go, you want to stay like this, with him. But when his arms discarded from you, you just sat there feeling empty again.

He looked down on his wristwatch as his eyes widen, "I--I have to go..." He said, getting his jacket on the armrest of the couch.

"Where are you going..?." You interject.

"Something important Y/N, I promise I will make it up to you someday. Just call me..." He smiles and leans in to you again, giving a quick kiss on your temple before he left the house.

You can't believe you just confessed to him, and he didn't feel the same way. But John, he's still the sweetest human you know because he still cares about you. After all those words you've left unhand to him, he still wants to meet up with you. You imagined him being too awkward after that and would be distant, but no, it's the complete opposite.

It's had been thirty minutes that John stayed here, he only drank one glass of the champagne before he left for something important. Maybe he'll go to his band discussion or some other friends, but when your eyes trailed on the calendar, staring at the date today, you remembered...

"Hey! Deaky said to me that he'll date this girl that he just met at a pub while performing with his band! Didn't he mentioned it to you Y/N?." Aubrey, your friend from high school said and you gave her a tight smile.

"Deaky doesn't have my house number since I just moved recently. We haven't spoke for months and I didn't know he's now in band!." You shouted through the loud music in this club. Slurring at your words and your head mildly spinning now.

"Oh! What a shame, I'll phone Deaky sometimes to give you your phone number! So that you'll have a little reunion." She replied.

"So who's his new girlfriend?." You asked, feeling interested in John's love life.

"Her name's Veronica. The way he just talked about her on the phone really moved me. He really liked the girl, and he planned on meeting up with her family and ask them to marry her! Isn't that cute?." Aubrey squealed and you just sat there silent.

"When is the proposal?."

"He planned on the third week of July or so, I don't know."

And it's already the third week of July. You just said that you love him earlier and he love you too, but not the way you wanted it to be. Because he's now proposing to the woman he truly loved. You feel the huge pang in your heart as you said to yourself,

"I should've said those words back in 1968..."

You've been so close, too close...

Yet so far

[viva-la-fangirl]

It’s All to Late (It’s Late Part 4 FINALE)

I FINALLY FINISHED IT! I’m sorry it took so long- i have school and somewhat of a life :) Thank you to everyone who loves this story and shared it. It’s very rewarding! 

PART 1    PART 2     PART 3

Ok and I know the timing (like in the story) is kinda off but goddamn it made an ending so yeah deal with it

Also a key part of part 2 is mentioned so you better read that before this.

Words: 2.8k

Warning: angst and SMUT (yall earned it) prolly grammar mistakes

The drive to Roger’s apartment was beyond awkward. Here you were, driving to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment with his current lover, about to confess that you had made a mistake and want him back.

You couldn’t help but keep glancing over at Cheryl during the drive that only lasted a couple of minutes. She was pretty and definitely Roger’s type. Her cheeks were full and her eyes were big and bright. Her lips were full and tinted pink from her earlier red lipstick you had seen all over Roger’s face. The lips that had given him the hickey.

“I’m sorry,” you couldn’t stop yourself from apologizing.

“Why?” Cheryl gave a little laugh.

“If I had never made such a stupid impulsive decision, you’d still be with him… sleeping in… his bed,” you had to stop yourself from saying our bed. It had been your all’s bed for years. So many nights staying up giggling with each other, late night conversations and post tour days had been spent there. Not to mention the morning sex.

Your face turned hot at the thought.

“It was bound to happen,” Cheryl said knowingly. “I’m just glad I can help you guys get back together. I know how Roger is, all in or nothing. He’s all in on you,”

You shared a forced smile. The car took a sudden stop.

“Thank you, again,” you said as you stepped out of the car. Cheryl gave you one final nod of permission before driving off without another word.

You stood in front of Roger’s apartment, and with a breath, you forced yourself through the doors.

Wave of emotions flooded your bloodstream. Anxiety, hope, guiltiness, love, brokenness and longing all swirled in your heart, too intense to feel one independently.

You thought of everything leading up to the breakup as you walked up to Roger’s apartment, not feeling your legs carrying you. It was like walking on clouds, not knowing if you were about to crash back down to Earth depending on Roger’s answer.

The months leading up to the breakup had been like a hurricane gathering destructive power and then unleashing it all.

“Goddamn it Roger,” you said walking fiercely out of the room. Your heart burned with an angry fire you didn’t think you could ever feel towards Roger. “I just want you to listen,”

“I am listening (Y/N)!” he shouted back. Roger was never one to be afraid to hurt anyone’s feelings- even if they were yours.

“You’re only hearing what you want to hear,” you shot back. Roger did have great selective hearing.

“What you’re saying isn’t true,” Roger said taking a step towards you. You pulled back. You didn’t want him to touch you because you knew his fingers would cause you to melt.

“I’m not right for this life Roger, I can’t live this life.” You crossed your arms and tried to hold in tears as best you could.

“You’re saying this after how many years?” Roger pressed. “We’ve been together for four years and now you automatically decide that you can’t do it?” His chest heaved up and down.

“We starting dating when you were playing in bars and at colleges, not at sold-out arenas, traveling for months on end!” you argued.

“How long have you felt this way?” Roger demanded.

You opened and closed your mouth. You knew you shouldn’t say.

“How long?!”

“A few months…” you admitted. The truth being out made you feel even worse.

Roger paced around and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me (Y/N)?” His voice was now softer, the realization of how you felt made even worse. You two shared everything together, secrets, hopes, wrong you have committed, grudges… everything except this.

“I just… I thought it would go away in a couple of days, you know how I over think everything.” You whispered. It was true, he did. Usually he would ground you and make you feel better. “But then it didn’t and…” you chocked back a sob.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room between you two. A room that was used to laughter and hanging out with friends suddenly felt cold and unfamiliar.

“(Y/N).” Roger said softly. “Please love… this life, what I do- none of it’s worth it if I don’t have you,”

“Rog,” you gathered yourself slightly. “This isn’t for me, you’re life... they’re not me. I don’t like waiting here for months on end for you to get back. Just for you to spend day in and day out at the studio when you are here,” your voice becoming harsher as you started to admit what you had been holding in for months. “I can’t stand seeing rumors and lies about us.” Your breath started to get heavy.

“I can’t be with you Rog.” You finally said.

The words had come out and it started to suffocate the pair of you. Your heart cried to your brain to take it back, that you still did love Roger and you couldn’t imagine your life without him. But your brain made you stay silent. You thought this was for the best, that once you saw how easy life was not having to tell tabloid writers to piss off, getting to be in a normal stable relationship that you’d see it was for the best you weren’t with Roger. You tried and convince yourself with every fiber of your being.

“(Y/N), I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’ll fly you out to our tour. I’ll call you every morning and evening. I’ll quit the bloody band if you want me to!” Roger’s voice was hard and tight.

“Roger, it’s not about that. I’m not going to make you give up something you love for me,”

“But I love you.” Roger walked towards you so you saw his now glassy blue eyes. “I’ll do it all,”

You sighed. “It’s all too late,”

“No please,” Roger begged. “This can’t be it, (Y/N).” you had seen tears in his eyes.

“Then how come it is?” you tried to level your voice to no avail.

…

You shook yourself out of the memory as you stepped out onto Roger’s floor from the elevator. Everything was ominously quiet. The walls felt like they had invisible eyes watching you walk down the hallway to Roger’s door. You knew there was a good chance he’d be asleep now, it was crazy of you to wake him up twice in one long night.

But you knocked again. This time they were slightly softer and slower than they had been when you first ran here.

Within a second the door opened and you Roger again. His face was red, but this time not from the lipstick. The area around his signature blue-green eyes were red. Your heart twisted in pain.

“Hi Roger,” you said quietly making sure not to wake the neighbors.

He looked at you up and down, taking in that you were there. “Not going to run away this time?” he smiled. God, even in the middle of this situation, Roger joked.

“I won’t go unless you want me too,” you stated with a soft smile.

Roger opened the door wider, signaling for you to come in. You walked into the darkened apartment but knew you wouldn’t hit anything. You knew this apartment almost even better in the dark.

Roger closed the door and you felt the air around starting to warm up. What would you say after 6 month of no communication whatsoever? How would you even begin to explain yourself?

You turned and saw Roger take a quick step towards you. The pair of you were inches apart. His scent of smoked cigarettes and a hint of cologne surrounded you.

Gently, like you were made of smoke, Roger but his hands on your cheeks. His touch was soft and comforting. It felt familiar.

“I thought I was dreaming when I opened the door,” he said. “I didn’t think I would see you again,”

The comment made you melt. You leaned in to kiss him. Just as you did he turned away.

Frustratingly he ran his fingers through his hair. “What are you even doing here? Do you know where Cheryl ran off to?” his voice had an edge of anger to it. You weren’t mad because you knew you deserved it along with a lot more.

“She came to get me,” you admitted. Even in the dim lighting of the living room, you saw his eyes grow slightly bigger. “She told me what happened after I came here earlier tonight, she looked me up in your phone book and actually dropped me back off.”

You let Roger take in the situation.

“You didn’t answer my question of why you’re here,” Roger’s stated in a tight voice.

You looked at him in the moonlight shining through. How could you ever break his heart? He wasn’t the perfect man by any means but he was perfect for you.

“I am so sorry,” you said the same line as you did earlier in the night.

“You already said that,” Roger said with slight humor in his voice.

“That was because I thought I had interrupted something… that I had interrupted you with someone else…” a silence filled the room again. “But this time I mean it for you… and I did to you,” your throat tightened.

“Rog,” you allowed yourself to say his nickname. “I made… this stupidest and biggest mistake letting you go. I thought that this life, your life wasn’t right for me. That I was somehow missing a normal part of growing up. I had this idea in my head about how my life should look and it just… I worried that we didn’t want the same things. I thought that the normal life was what I wanted. I thought that…” Tears were spilling down your cheeks. “I thought that I could live without you,”

Roger came over and placed both hands on your cheeks again, wiping away tears. How could he still be so nice to you even after all that you had done to him?

“What do you think now?” his voice was low and hinting towards something. A tension pulling on your heart was about to snap.

“I want to be with you,” you whispered onto his lips.

Roger was dangerously close to you. You could see the different color flecks in his eyes.

“Where was this 6 months ago?” Roger’s voice was a mix of emotions from anger to longing.

“It was there… I just got scared.”

“And threw away four years?”

“Rog,” you felt a cord in your chest twist. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted and I’m so sorry it took me to be away from you to realize that,”

“And now?” Roger’s lips brushed yours agonizingly slow. They were just far enough away.

“Roger, I know I can’t live another second without you,”

In an instant, Roger’s lips met yours in a hard lunge. His hands were holding your cheeks, pulling you as close as he could to him.

You couldn’t breathe. Earlier tonight you thought you would never see Roger again. You thought that your time with him was gone and that was it. Now here you were, kissing him.

He pulled away and placed his foreheads onto yours.

“I need you to tell me,” he whispered forcefully. You could tell he was holding back.

“Rog- I already said…”

“Not that…”

In a moment you understood.

“I love you Roger Taylor, and I want to be with you more than you will ever know.”

Those were the magic words for Roger. His hands migrated from your neck to your back pulling you to him. He kissed you as if you were air and he was suffocating. His fingertips dug into you desperately. He kissed you deep over and over again. Finally he kissed your neck which was a signal about what was about to happen.

Six months of radio silence and longing was releasing itself in this. Goosebumps went up your spine as Roger touched you, kissed you and nibbled on your neck. All and any doubt of your relationship erased. You two were supposed to be together.

“(Y/N),” Roger moaned against your neck and bit your ear.

“Rog, I need you,” you whispered back, your voice painfully dripping with need.

He lifted you up with your legs wrapped around his waist and carried you to the bedroom.

Carefully, Roger laid you down with him still in between your legs.

“I missed you so much,” you said as you began pulling at his waistband.

“Let me show you how much I missed you,” Roger purred in your ear.

Naturally, Roger took off your shorts that you had been wearing along with your underwear. You shuttered, and he kissed your inner thighs. His tongue skimmed over your skin. He knew exactly how to get you off and he wasn’t holding back. His lips sprinkled light but full kisses from your upper middle thigh to the inner part.

His fingers rubbed your center. You were soaked for him. Within those six months without Roger you had a few dates but nothing ever became of any of them. The thought of anyone else on top of you, touching you, making you moan and bite your lips didn’t feel right- it was Roger’s job to do that.

“Rog—” Your voice caught as you arched your body with Roger’s fingers.

“Say my name love,” he whispered roughly into your ear as he nibbled on your neck.

“Roger,” you gasped. Roger fingers moved, rubbed and pushed on just the right places. You were more pent up than you cared to admit.

Roger must’ve sensed what was happening because he pulled his fingers back.

“No please—” you begged.

“Trust me love I’m about to make you regret every second of those six months.” Roger gave you a cheeky grin you missed. You pulled at his waistband and before you could blink he was naked hovering on top of you.

“Wait,” you said.

Roger flinched but didn’t move, looking down at you.

“Oh… I thought—nevermind,” Roger started.

“NO!” you shouted. “No that’s not it. Trust me Roger I want to shag you.” You kissed his chest and left a trail of kisses down his stomach. Placing the last one on his tip. A huff escaped Roger’s lips. “I just want to know one thing,”

“Anything,”

“Did you really say my name in bed with other girls?” You shot Roger a cocky smile.

Roger didn’t answer but pushed you back down on the bed and let himself inside of you. You let out a loud gasp and moan as Roger’s familiar length entered you.

“You’re the only one I’d ever think about,” Roger whispered as he started his pace.

It was nice and smooth, steady but deep and passionate. His thrusts were desperate almost as he pushed inside of you over and over again. The pressure was a wonderful sensation that tingled the deepest part of you. Roger’s length slide in and out of you rubbing against your wet walls.

The pair of you shared frantic, sloppy kisses. You were afraid that Roger would disappear, or it would be another one of your dreams about Roger (which seemed to happy frequently during the breakup).

“(Y/N),” Roger quietly moaned your name. Chills radiated through your body. Your favorite sound was him saying your names… especially during sex when his voice was husky and low. Roger’s pace started to speed up. Slamming into you harder. You both wanted to please the other.

Your breath started to hitch as your stomach tightened and you arched your back. The cords inside of your centered snapped letting a tsunami of pleasure wash over you. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Roger had sex like this- a type that was like one of you was about to disappear. Roger pleased you throughout your high but soon released afterward.

Roger flopped on his side while catching his own breath. You couldn’t move- not that you wanted to. The endorphins of your orgasm were still fresh in your system and you wanted to relish the feeling. It was familiar and one you could live in.

“(Y/N),” you looked over as Roger sat up on one arm.

“Hi Rog,” you smiled. He leaned down to kiss you tenderly but deeply.

You kissed him back hard. You still had so much guilt built up inside of you for what you had done, but you knew you’d never make that mistake again. Roger was yours- for good now.

“I thought as I too late,” you whispered to Roger.

“Shhhh,” Roger cooed you. “I would wait a thousand years for you love. And look,” Roger nodded his head towards the window. In the distance, you could see the yellows, oranges and pinks of the rising sun. “It was never too late,”

You moved closer to Roger and settled in your familiar spot under his arm with your head on his chest. Roger hummed in your ear as you fell asleep with your late night ending in sunrise.

TAG LIST:

@countryday @insolent-ravioli @urhotilikeu @justafxngirlx @kellysimagines

@falling-stars-never-cry @ziggystarrdust @anita-e-taylor @omghelenabonhambae @omgrogertaylor @zyanmaik @hotguystthatsit

[cheelchan]

band!jk 05

→ summary: “he swore that yoongi’s jacket smelled really badly and that’s why you should use his, instead.” word count: 2.3k → premise: “BTS is a well-known band that regularly releases songs, but the identities of their members are kept as a secret. You’re very much into them, much to the struggle of your best friend, Jungkook, who regularly stresses with the fact that he’s actually part of BTS, but he can’t muster the courage to tell you and confess his feelings to you.” drabble au → genre/au: secret band!BTS au, college au fluff → pairing: jeon jungkook | reader → word count: 1.5k → drabble series: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 06 | 

Winter.

As much as how beautiful the world was when it was winter time, you hated it because it was just too cold. By now, you should’ve already been used to the cold weather in Seoul, but it always took you, at least, four layers of clothes (without the winter jacket) before you could actually venture the outside world.

Despite the cold weather, you unwittingly had made plans with your best friend to eat lamb skewers with him and his older housemate. Unwittingly because he had called you at six in the morning — the sort of time you would have just agreed to anything someone would tell you over the phone just so that you could go back to sleeping again. And thus, here you were trudging through the snow with your five layers of clothes because it was just too goddamn cold and you weren’t Elsa.

The cold did bother you. A lot.

“Ah, there she is! We’re over here!” You heard your best friend’s voice as he waved at you, while you made your way to him and his older housemate.

Jeon Jungkook, for some reason, was just wearing a few layers of clothes, as if he was just out on a summer night, while his housemate, Min Yoongi was just wearing enough clothes to not feel the cold weather.

Gah, how you envied them, especially since wearing lots of layers of clothes made it so difficult to move about.

“Why are you walking like a penguin?” Min Yoongi asked, seemingly amused by how hard it was for you to move about.

“Wow, gee, thanks, sunbae.” You rolled your eyes as you sat on the seat opposite the two guys.

“You’re welcome,” he responded as you frowned and checked the menu, trying to remember what you got the last time you visited. You had loved that soup, but you forgot what you had ordered.

“I got you kalguksu. I remembered that you loved it when we visited last week,” Jungkook said, an unsure look on his face. He was probably worried that you might have not wanted to get it this time, but he knew you were a creature of habit.

“Thanks,” you grinned to his direction as he sighed in relief. “You have such good memory, I’m really envious of you.”

He chuckled, as if it were just nothing. “Well, this ‘good memory’ isn’t really useful for exams. So, it’s a bit useless, to be honest,” he sighed at the last part as you patted him lightly on his arm.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi called his attention as the younger male turned to him. “Before we left, didn’t Namjoon say that he wanted something from here? Do you remember what he wanted?” Yoongi asked, not bothering to look up from his phone as Jungkook shook his head.

“Do you want me to ask him?” Jungkook asked as Yoongi nodded. Jungkook excused himself, taking along his phone to contact the other older guy.

“He remembers everything about you,” Yoongi suddenly blurted, still not bothering to turn up from his phone.

“Excuse me?” You asked, a bit unsure if he was talking to you.

“He remembered what you ordered last week, but he can’t remember what Namjoon told him right before we left,” Yoongi elaborated as you simply nodded, unsure on how to respond.

“Maybe because he has selective memory? He did say that he wasn’t good in memorizing for his exams.” You gave a light chuckle, though wondering a bit why it seemed like you were making excuses to Yoongi.

“Well, he has selective memory when it comes to other things, but it’s non-negotiable when it comes to you.”

“Non-negotiable? What do you-“

“Namjoon hyung said he wanted some kalguksu, too. Should I order it for him now?” Jungkook asked as Yoongi nodded, while Jungkook motioned to the waitress and ordered the soup that their other housemate wanted.

Meanwhile, you were staring at Yoongi, trying to figure out what he was implying. What did he mean by saying that you were non-negotiable to Jungkook? What did being non-negotiable entail?

A million answers popped into your head, but there was one that made your heart palpitate stronger than usual.

“So, what were the two of you talking about when I was outside? You seemed like you were talking something serious,” Jungkook asked, his curiosity oozing after seeing the way that you and Yoongi were talking to each other.

“W-Well, we were talking about something, that is, you know,” you stammered, trying to find the right way to say it to him without giving him the wrong idea, but Yoongi had beaten you to it.

“We were talking about you.”

Your eyes widened in panic as Jungkook raised an eyebrow, wondering which aspect about him the two of you were talking about. This time, it seemed like Yoongi was leaving you to answer Jungkook’s curiosity. You knew you had no way out, because Jungkook’s curiosity wasn’t something you could ignore since he was very insistent, especially when it came to satiating his curiosity.

You looked around, trying to figure out what you could tell him. “Well, we were talking about-“

“Three orders of lamb skewers, one bowl of kimchi jigae, and one bowl of kalguksu.” The waitress arrived just on time, as she placed the food on the table. You inwardly sighed in relief as the arrival of the food had distracted the other two on the table.

“Get some lamb skewers. You shouldn’t just eat your kalguksu. You also need to eat meat, alright?” Jungkook murmured, placing some meat on the small plate in front of you as you nodded, feeling fuzzy that he was tending to you.

“Leave one plate with me. You owe me a plate of lamb skewers, you know,” Yoongi muttered, while Jungkook nodded, pushing the other plate to his direction. You raised an eyebrow, surprised that Jungkook owed Yoongi a plate. It was usually Yoongi who paid for their meals, and not the other way around.

Yoongi smirked towards Jungkook. “You should tell her why you owe me a plate-“

“Is that Jimin hyung outside?” Jungkook asked you, cutting off whatever Yoongi was saying as he pointed to a random guy outside. You turned around and tried to look for their other housemate, but it was just a guy who was probably as short as Jimin. He didn’t even have Jimin’s signature blond locks.

“Jungkook, not every short guy is Jimin sunbae, okay?” You chided him as you turned back to him, but you saw him glaring at Yoongi, instead, as if something was going on, but Yoongi acted as if there was nothing going on.

You were about to eat when you realized that you needed to take off your winter jacket to eat properly. You sighed in annoyance as you took off your jacket and started eating, but you shivered as soon as the cold wind touched your skin.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked as you sheepishly nodded. You couldn’t tell him that you were suffering from the cold weather when he was just wearing a few layers of clothes.

“She’s cold, Jungkook. Anyone would see that,” Yoongi murmured, pointing out the obvious.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, obviously worried about your health. “Do you want a jacket? Do you want to borrow mine?” He asked, motioning to take off his jacket, but you raised your hands to stop him from taking it off.

“No, it’s okay! You’re wearing a few layers only, while I’m wrapped up in so many layers. You might get sick!” You chided him as Yoongi simply nodded, agreeing with you.

“But, you have an exam tomorrow, right? You can’t get sick tomorrow,” he reminded you as you scratched your head, knowing that he was right. You had the tendency to easily get sick, especially when you were exposed to the cold.

“She can borrow mine, if she wants. I’m wearing enough layers, anyway,” Yoongi offered as you blinked for a few moments in disbelief. He simply ignored the stare you were giving him as he took off his jacket, handing it to you, while you felt like you saw Jungkook’s pout for a moment, but it disappeared when you took a second look.

Okay, so maybe, he didn’t actually pout at all. You probably just imagined it.

“Are you sure of this, sunbae? I’m wearing more layers than you, though,” you asked, a bit wary since you knew he also had classes. Plus, there was the well-known fact that Min Yoongi always did injure himself nearing the end of every year.

“All I have are papers to write. All my exams are through,” he responded in a cool manner before he ate another piece of meat.

You simply nodded, giving a small ‘thanks’ before you went and wore his jacket. It was only a bit bigger than your size since Yoongi was thin, but you knew that this was definitely a guy’s jacket, especially with how long its sleeves were.

“Wait, I’ll just use the restroom. Don’t you dare eat a piece of my meat,” Yoongi frowned before standing up from his chair and heading to the restroom.

“I have to tell you something,” Jungkook said, a serious look on his face.

For a second, you were a bit worried of what he was going to tell you.

Was it something that was going to change the current state of your friendship? It wasn’t often that you had this kind of conversations with him. But then, even when the two of you would argue or have huge rows, one of you would always go and make up with the other, holding either a box of pizza (you) or a box of chocolates (him.) So, you weren’t that worried, but this time, you were clueless. Was there was something up that you weren’t aware?

“Why? What’s up, Jungkook? Is something wrong?” You asked him, hoping that it wasn’t anything that serious.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, scratching his head. He seemed as if he was trying to find a way to word it properly. Maybe, it was something that serious, since he didn’t often do this. You swallowed the growing lump on your throat as you shook your head.

“I won’t. You know me, Jung-”

“Yoongi hyung’s jacket hasn’t been washed in months.”

You blinked your eyes for a moment.

What did he just say?

“What?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, but then, when he opened his eyes, he looked more firm. “That jacket hasn’t been washed in months. And I’m worried that it might smell so bad already. Plus, we don’t know what’s growing there already by now,” he added, much to your disbelief.

You never thought that Yoongi was the sort who would just leave his clothes unwashed for months. You stared at the jacket, wondering if you wanted to get sick because of some fungi that might have already grown on the jacket or because of the cold weather.

“You could borrow mine, you know. Actually, I really don’t think that it’s that cold. The weather’s just okay, since I’m so used to this cold weather,” Jungkook murmured nonchalantly as he took a sip from his cup.

You paused for a moment to think for a moment, but you knew that you had practically no choice at this point. Besides, Jungkook’s body was practically made of steel, so you knew you shouldn’t get worried if he was going to get sick. You sighed before nodding, relenting to his idea as you took off Yoongi’s jacket. Jungkook grinned, taking off his jacket and handing it to you before he resumed eating again.

Yoongi returned from the restroom after a little while, but it didn’t take him twice to look at you when he found his jacket on his seat, while Jungkook’s jacket was wrapped around you, instead. “You don’t need this anymore?” He asked, motioning to his jacket.

“I felt really warm. So, I lent her my jacket,” Jungkook responded in your stead, while you just nodded to the explanation he gave. You knew you couldn’t tell Yoongi the real reason why you felt like returning back his jacket.

Yoongi simply shrugged, probably satisfied with the explanation that Jungkook gave, as he continued eating. The rest of the meal continued with the three of you discussing about school, especially since Yoongi was more pleased with giving the two of you a couple of advice about school and life in general.

The three of you parted ways soon after, since you still had to drop by somewhere, leaving Jungkook and Yoongi on their own as they started to walk back to their house.

“If you need anyone to eat lamb skewers with her again, you can just ask me,” Yoongi grinned, reminding Jungkook the reason why he owed him a plate of lamb skewers. “But, you could always ask her out alone, you know. You don’t have to bring someone along.”

Jungkook paused for a moment, scratching his head. “But, you don’t get it, hyung. I don’t want to destroy our friendship. I’m happy with our current situation.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem that way when I lent her my jacket. You probably spouted some nonsensical lie to make her remove my jacket immediately and just use yours,” Yoongi snorted, as Jungkook simply stayed silent, knowing that he actually did. “Don’t worry, hyung understands. You love the girl, you get jealous. It’s okay.”

“I don’t love her, okay?”

Yoongi snorted yet again.

“Well, just yet. I do like her, but it hasn’t reached the point where I love her,” Jungkook murmured before sneezing.

Yoongi simply stared at the shaking figure of the younger guy. Jungkook was shivering from the cold since he had lent you his jacket. Yoongi sighed, giving in to whatever their maknae was saying, but only after ruffling his hair.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, Jungkook. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Helping Hands

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five| Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen: Hands in the Air

It was strange, Bucky thought, riding up the elevator, the things that a man could get used to. He was used to thinking certain ways, doing certain things. But it hadn’t taken him long to adjust, and now he hardly wondered at doing things like riding up sixty floors in a glass-backed elevator. (It was actually faster to ride up the central elevator that had a keyport and opened into Tony’s foyer, but Bucky liked the glass one, even though he had to climb the last flight of stairs and go in through the housekeeper’s entrance.) He was sleeping in when he wanted, and eating whatever he wanted, as much as he wanted. He was going to have to start using the building’s private gym pretty damn soon or he was going to get fat.

Which was why, when J had come by the penthouse that morning to drag a protesting Pietro out to the studio to re-record “Order and Chaos” because J hadn’t liked the way the guitar sounded, Bucky had impulsively decided to tag along. Steve was at the new school for orientation and wouldn’t be back until late afternoon, Tony was at the office, Wanda was… doing whatever it was Wanda did when she wasn’t with J or at college.

Bucky had never been in a recording studio before, although it had been a dream of his, once upon a time. Before money for college got so scarce that he’d decided to join the Army to cover tuition. Before he’d lost his arm and with it, his ability to play the guitar. Friends from high school, he and Jim and James (there was a reason Bucky had stuck around as a nickname; too many goddamn Jameses in his circle of high school friends) and Tim (whom they all called Dum Dum for reasons no one could really remember), they’d formed a garage band with dreams of becoming the next Nirvana. Like most kids, he thought, looking back on his younger self with a certain degree of exasperated fondness. It hadn’t happened, of course, and Bucky couldn’t even remember anymore why they’d gone their separate ways.

They had arrived at Cherry Hill around ten, and J had immediately gotten into it with the sound director -- a burly, short man named Logan who reeked of cigars and had excessively righteous sideburns -- about the backing chorus, and something about the session singer, Jean Grey. Watching them, Bucky was left with the impression of a whirlwind talking to a boulder. Bucky mostly stayed out of it, though he’d taken J’s guitar away from him when it looked like the young singer might be tempted to go after Logan and use it as a blunt instrument.

While everyone split to their corners to nurse their wounds -- Logan had stomped off and come back with coffee and doughnuts, claiming that J’s low blood sugar was the problem, a clever move for someone who called people ‘bub’ and acted like an angry weed whacker -- Bucky had found himself with a guitar in his lap for the first time in most of a decade. The silver Les Paul was a beautiful instrument.

He hadn’t played in so long all his callouses were gone. He’d gotten new ones, learning how to do a number of chores with his good right hand, and then again when the prosthetic came along, but neither set was going to keep him from bleeding out his fingertips if he practiced on a steel-string. He’d poked around in J’s stuff until he came up with a guitar pick. The new metal hand was so much faster and more responsive to his thoughts. The feedback from the fingers was so good he could feel the minute vibrations in the strings.

Without entirely deciding that he was going to do it, Bucky had found himself plucking out an old melody, a song he’d learned from a friend in Afghanistan. He had to go over it several times -- he’d never had sheet music for the piece, and it had been years since he played it, but as it was the song he’d used to sing Steve to sleep for years, he was pretty familiar with the melody.

The elevator opened, interrupting Bucky’s replay of the moment, and Bucky ran up the stairs at a quick jog, and used his key and thumbprint to open the door to Tony’s penthouse.

“Why do you always come in the back door?” Tony said as he came in. “You’re not one of the staff.”

Bucky shrugged, not thrown off by that at all, although he might have been, if Tony had said it earlier. “I like lookin’ out over the city,” Bucky said.

“In another life, you were a dictator with your own little nation?” Tony suggested.

“No, you’re mistaking your past life for mine,” Bucky said. He darted forward and kissed Tony’s cheek, feeling a little more daring than normal. They’d sort of had sex a few times, if Bucky could call a few quick hand-jobs and getting blown twice sex but Tony kept shying away from anything that Bucky considered a normal part of intimacy, the stuff that wasn’t sex but that happened in the spaces between a couple.

They were living together, dating, and yet… there was this distance. He couldn’t decide if Tony didn’t want to get closer, or if he didn’t have the slightest idea how. Or even, perhaps, that he didn’t know it was possible at all. Bucky had picked up a bit of that from his old man; Big Jim hadn’t been the sort to ask for things; when he wanted the potatoes at dinner, he’d just stared at them until Bucky’s ma had passed them over. The first time Bucky had tried that with Sarah, she’d laughed at him and moved the rolls further away. You want something, Jamie, you ask for it. You ain’t Big Jim and I ain’t your mama. With that in mind, Bucky opened his mouth to say something -- he wasn’t even sure what, yet, but Tony interrupted him.

“You seem in a good mood, today,” Tony said.

“Hung out with J and Pietro a bit,” Bucky said. “Wanted to see what trouble they were up to with the recording.”

“Yeah?” Tony said. He moved to the bar and Bucky couldn’t help but check the clock: a little after three.

He grimaced; Bucky had been watching Tony’s behavior slip, rolling backward like Sisyphus’s stone, a little bit at a time, but inevitable. He pushed it aside for later; it was too nice a day to get into it now. “Aside from nearly coming to blows with some little sound guy --”

“The Wolverine?” Tony asked, eyebrows going up. “Brave kid, if he’s yelling at Logan about making a record sound perfect. You do not fuck with perfection, and you do not tell Logan what to do.”

“Well, no one told J that. They seem to be working it out when I left, though.”

“If J gets a single note through and the record sells, I guarantee you that in five years, J will be producing and mixing, not singing,” Tony said, leaning back against the bar with his whiskey in one hand. “Logan’s a tyrant, but he recognizes talent.”

“That’s a bet I’ll put money on,” Bucky said. “I left because J was about ready to murder me for touching his baby. Doesn’t matter how talented he is, J’s not going to give up singing. Not for anything.”

“So, you were playing again,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together. “Any good? The arm’s working out for you? That’s great.” And Bucky watched with delight as Tony’s eyes lit up, the smile that came to his lips softening into something more natural, and he actually put his drink down to come closer and run a hand lightly up the cybernetic arm. He turned Bucky’s hand over, inspected the fingers. “You can play with your hand like this? I mean, it sounds okay? I’m not much of a musician, but I imagine --”

“There’s a rough edge to the notes,” Bucky admitted. “It’s got a kinda Steve Reynolds sound going on, not bad, though.” He pulled out his phone. “Pietro recorded some of it, if you want to listen.”

Bucky tried not to wince too badly when the music came up; he’d been running scales a bit, trying to get the feel for J’s baby when his fingers wandered into the opening notes and he’d gone ahead and played it. He was so out of practice, it started out really rough and not quite at the right tempo, but once he’d finished the opening and gotten to the lyrics, it started sounding like music.

The song had been a favorite of Steve’s when he was a baby.

The first few months after Steve was born, Sarah had sung to him every night. Bucky remembered lying on the sofa, turning the volume down on the television so he could hear her voice, and it soothed him as much as it comforted their son. Then Sarah had stopped singing. Bucky had thought she was just tired; her milk had dried up, and she was back at work again. So he’d done what he could, taken on what duties he’d been able to manage with one hand. Rocking Steve to sleep and singing, that was something he could do.

After the first verse, Steve himself came in through the door, Tony’s driver right behind him, and Steve stopped just inside, dropping his backpack and staring at Tony with Bucky’s phone as if shocked into stillness.

When missing her is all I do, the days all pass me by like these dreams of Mississippi and these ghosts who cannot lie. Oh, this ring rests on my finger like a veve on a wall and whispers gather 'round me, come to dance when darkness falls. Everything I see adds up to say the tale is tall, but back into her arms is really not that far to fall. There is moonlight on the river where I never thought I'd go. There's a dream of Mississippi that I never tell a soul.

“No, no, no,” Steve yelled, running at Tony suddenly and snatching the phone away from him. “That’s Mama’s song!”

“Steve!” Bucky said, shocked at Steve’s unexpected behavior. The music died as Steve managed to stab at something on the screen that stopped the video.

“That’s Mama’s song,” Steve insisted. “You’re not supposed to sing it for anyone else!”

“Stevie, no, honey,” Bucky squatted a bit, listening to his knees pop and thinking he was getting too damn old for this. “Music is for everyone .”

“But that’s her song, Daddy,” Steve said, tears starting, his lip quivering. “You sing it to me because she can’t, anymore.”

“Oh, baby,” Bucky said, and drew his son into his arms. “I sing it to remember her.”

For just a moment, Steve’s body stiffened and Bucky braced himself to deal with a Steven Grant Barnes temper tantrum; he didn’t have them often, but when he did, they were legendary, the sort of thing that made single women swear off child-bearing for the rest of their days, and made Bucky wonder if people could hear his kid all the way in Jersey.

Instead, Steve hitched in a breath, looked up at his father, “Do you still love her?”

“Of course, honey,” Bucky said around the ache in his chest. “I will always love your mama. Always.”

Steve sniffled, loud and wet, but he seemed convinced of Bucky’s sincerity. “Sorry I yelled at you,” he said.

“You’re forgiven,” Bucky said. “You should probably say sorry to Mr. Tony, too.”

Tony, who was trying to sidle out of the room unobtrusively, looked a little guilty. “No, it’s okay,” he said, holding up one hand. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Bucky nudged his son. “What do you think would be a good way to make up for it, Stevie?”

Steve hitched in another breath, looked a hair’s breadth away from rebelling, then let all the air out of his chest with an exasperated wheeze. Bucky knew telepathy was a thing, because he could clearly hear his son thinking God, DAAAAAAAAAAAD. “We could watch it together?”

“That’s a very good idea, I think,” Bucky said. He picked his phone up off the floor and made a get over here and act like an adult glare in Tony’s direction.

Telepathy. It was a thing. Because Tony was clearly thinking I do what I want.

“Don’t make me call Darcy, Tony,” Bucky threatened.

“Unfair,” Tony said. “You are a dirty cheater.” But he huffed and came back into the living room.

“Yep.” And Bucky sat down on the sofa, and his two favorite boys curled up, one on either side, to watch the damn video.

Bucky opened the magazine that Darcy had thrust at him, looked at the close-up of his own face, biting his lip, an expression that made him look younger and more uncertain than he’d like, but also kinda like a young pop-star.

Hero in Paradise, The Story of “Bucky” Barnes

-- Christine Everhart

Anthony Edward Stark and James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes‘ unique displays of affection make them seem like a perfect match. It would be hard to find two people from more different backgrounds, but reporter Christine Everhart got a good look at what goes on behind the scenes in Tony’s penthouse. In the wake of Barnes’s tabloid introduction to the glam world of Tony Stark’s playboy lifestyle, Barnes opened up to Profile, Weekly about his past in the military, current hardships, and plans for the future.

Barnes, 37, revealed that although his and Stark’s relationship started off with a casual date, he was pretty serious about seeing where they could go, despite their different interests and lifestyles. “Tony’s a great guy, you know,” Barnes said. “I wouldn’t call him down-to-earth, no, but he makes me laugh. I haven’t had a lot of that in my life, and I can’t tell you how much I missed it. Being happy. It’s pretty miraculous.” When asked if he thought Stark’s vast fortune was part of what was making him happy, Barnes was pretty adamant, “To be honest, the money thing… Well, it makes me  feel a little inadequate.” “I never quite feel good enough for him,” he shared, adding that he’s “real uncomfortable around rich and important people.”

Certainly, Barnes isn’t taking into account his heroic and distinguished military career. Although he never ranked higher than Sergeant, Barnes was responsible for saving the lives of half his unit, when they encountered heavy fire during the offensive at Baluchi, in July, 2006, the battle that cost the sergeant his left arm. Granted a replacement limb in Stark Industries’ early testing for their cybernetic prosthetics, Barnes found the quality of his life greatly increased. “Taking care of Steve -- my son -- was a lot easier once I had two arms again.” He laughed, those stormcloud-blue eyes of his bright. “To all the single parents out there, I salute you. And imagine, if you will, trying to change a diaper with one hand. Stevie was the youngest kid I knew who was toilet-trained, just to make my life a little less -- well, you know.” “I like how I am,” he said. “Some people give me some side-eye about the arm, but I love it.”

Despite losing his wife in 2010, Barnes says that he has hope for the future. “Sarah gave me the best gift she ever could. I have regrets, sure; everybody does, but Stevie makes everything worthwhile.”

Barnes’s young son seems well at home in Stark’s palatial penthouse; he came in about halfway through our interview. Barnes’s heroic actions and determination are echoed in Steve Barnes, who apparently got into a playground tussle when one child used a slur against one of Steve’s friends.

These days, Barnes is spending his time working with his niece and nephew, singer and guitarist for the up and coming new band, Vision.

Bucky eyed Darcy over the magazine at the last photo in the spread, one of the shirtless pictures he’d let Christine take. “This--”

“Is gorgeous,” Darcy interrupted. “Seriously, girls will swoon over it and Ty will have a lot more trouble making bad news stick to you. Everyone loves a broody hero.”

For just an instant, Tony looked up from his own copy of the magazine and met Bucky’s gaze, which did something interesting to Bucky’s stomach, but then Tony was looking down again.

Well, maybe some people do.

Notes:

(inspiration picture for the news article)

Dream of Mississippi, by SJ Tucker is actually one of my favorite songs. I find both the lyrics and the melody haunting, and thought it was an appropriate piece for Bucky to sing about his dead wife. You should really take the time to go listen to this talented lady; my particular favorite songs of hers are Dreams of Mississippi, Cheshire Kitten, Ravens in the Library, and Wild River Child. Also, Truth about Ninjas is hilarious. Go… go support indie musicians!

[pedalfuzz]

Hopscotch 2018: Pedal Fuzz Picks

The Hopscotch Music Festival is almost here! From September 6-8, downtown Raleigh, NC, will be electric with nearly-non-stop music. The Pedal Fuzz team scoured the schedule of over 120 bands for some of the acts we can't wait to see.

Our picks come from Dustin K. Britt, Melvyn Brown, Jon Foster, Eddie Garcia, and Tom Sowders. 

  H.C. McEntire - Thursday, 5:50pm (City Plaza)

I'm not going to lie or flatter myself: when I initially saw the Hopscotch lineup for 2018, I didn't recognize the name H.C. McEntire. I'd kind of slept on Un Deux Trois and Mount Moriah, even though when I'd hear them in passing they'd be added to my ever-expanding Mental List Of Things That I Definitely Need To Sit Down And Give A Serious Listen To Sometime Soon. But when I realized that H.C. McEntire was also Heather McEntire, from erstwhile mid-2000s Durham band Bellafea, I perked up pretty quickly: I loved Bellafea every time I saw them to the extent that I've considered peeling one of their old stickers off of a friend's bumper and keeping it for myself (sorry, Adam). Heather/H.C.'s new stuff is soulful and self-searching, and country-tinged in a way that avoids cynical, syrupy pastiche in favor of the authentic and sincere. I've now had a few serious listens through my headphones, but I can't wait to hear this stuff live. -  Melvyn Brown

 Real Estate - Thursday, 7:15pm (City Plaza)

I got into a fun fight with a friend a few weeks ago about whether or not "New Jersey sux LOL" is a lazy and unoriginal take (correct answer: it is!), and along with Walt Whitman and The Wrens, the band Real Estate was one of my main arguments on the Garden State's behalf. "It's Real" from 2011's Days is the cut that immediately made me a fan: the melodic interplay between the guitars, the rhythmic counterpoints and switchbacks from the bass and the drums, and the keyboard swirls all come together to produce a sound that's dreamy yet grounded, effervescent yet substantial, focused yet effortless. Martin Courtney's vocals wash cooly above it all, like waves over the sand on some idyllic Jersey Shore afternoon. The overall impression is clean, direct, and mildly euphoric, something like the mirror twin of a hangover-induced panic attack. -  Melvyn Brown

 The Flaming Lips - Thursday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

I turned my attention to The Flaming Lips for the first time after finding out that Blake Schwarzenbach of Jawbreaker loved the song “The Gash,” off of The Soft Bulletin. I checked that song out and loved it and put it on a VERY important volume of my personal mix cd series (I believe it was Stinger Vol. 13). Anyway, it became a favorite: so big and dreamy, like a sky full of javelins. Since then, The Flaming Lips have lavishly expanded indie rock into a colossal dreamscape full of giant eyeballs and lasers and feather boas, and I have still never seen them live. That’s bout to change, y’all - I’m eager to see what these fearless freaks do at Hopscotch. - Tom Sowders

 Deaf Wish - Thursday, 11:30pm (Slim’s)

I do ‘rock bands’ less and less. Whether it’s my age, the ‘been there done that’ sameness I so often encounter, or my compulsion  to explore ‘other’ sounds, I can’t say for sure. Probably all three. SO that’s why I find it goddamn significant that when I pressed play on the Deaf Wish song “FFS” (from a press release no less!) I listened to it three times in a row and sent it to a handful of friends. It’s got that Stooges snarl, the dissonance of Sonic Youth at their more aggressive early moments, and I bet it's going to smoke live. And every member of this Australian band takes turns at vocal duties, how cool is that? - Eddie Garcia

Thundercat – Friday, 7:15pm (City Plaza)

I first went to Japan in July 2000. It was a life-defining trip. In 2017, in connection with the college I teach for, I went again. The morning I woke up in Tokyo, I opened my window, and boiled some water for instant coffee. It was early. I looked out over the street. People were just starting to move around, starting to head to their jobs as the sun began to rise. The twelfth song on Thundercat’s album Drunk is “Tokyo.” Looking at the people from my tiny hotel room and thinking about the references in the song, both the song and the experience of being there again took on a new emotional depth. - Jon Foster

Grizzly Bear -  Friday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

The quartet’s records emit a throng of atmospheric noises coming from some unidentified dimension. Airtight vocal harmonies, instrumental experimentation, and psychedelic soundscapes are easy enough to capture in the studio, but can Ed Droste et al. deliver a sonically precise package live with adequate spontaneity and animation? I intend to find out. - Dustin K.  Britt

  Yamantaka // Sonic Titan - Friday, 10:00pm (Fletcher)

I never knew I wanted to hear a mix of shred / shoegaze / prog / pop but buddy was I wrong. And honestly, that’s not really doing justice to the melting pot of musical styles this band tackles. This experimental art & music collective swirls Buddhism with sci-fi while subverting the expectations of their Asian Canadian heritage. Their latest album is described as “the soundtrack for an unreleased Haudenosaunee- and Buddhist-themed Anime” From what I understand their live show involves much makeup and costumes and theatrical twists. I’m in. - Eddie Garcia

Shopping - Friday, 12:30am (Wicked Witch)

My wife introduced me to Shopping a couple years ago. We don’t always agree on what constitutes good music. That’s largely because I’m kind of a sad bastard who enjoys listening to the dreary music of other sad bastards, so that my own floating sadness can become inhabitable, and I can enter, sit down on a milkcrate, stay in there, stay safe and headphoned and probably wine drunk and blazed to bits. My wife prefers fun, cool music that ISN’T just an onanistic playground for narcissism masquerading as sensitivity. Anyway, it’s nice when we can land on a band that makes both our brains sparkle, and Shopping is such a band. Their music is like strutting with pointed toes on down a neon rainbow while LSD cartoons go dancing by in a great swirl toward the speaker at 174 bpm. I feel a physical need to get my groove on to their surfy, angular, rock ‘n’ roll dance music. - Tom Sowders

Moses Sumney -  Saturday, 6:40pm (Red Hat Amphitheater)

An expert a cappella arranger, Sumney’s androgynous voice seeps from the record player like a cloud of blue incense that gradually fills every room and penetrates your pores. On stage, his breath pushes gently against the spiritual waters of the amphitheater, growing exponentially into a wave that soars far above the heads of the crowd and crashes against every surrounding building. I plan to submerge myself along with the rest of downtown Raleigh, willing victims of the Sumney tsunami. - Dustin K.  Britt  

Nile Rodgers and Chic - Saturday, 8:00pm (Red Hat Amphitheater)

Even when I was too young to understand the songwriter/producer/session musician nexus or to have any concept of a trademark sound, I knew that I loved "Le Freak" (Chic), "Let's Dance" (David Bowie), and "We Are Family" (Sister Sledge) because they all had some essential, incredible thing in common. Time passed; I listened to more music, read more magazines and gatefolds and liner notes (and frankly, watched a heroic amount of VH1), and I eventually pieced together that the previously ineffable common link between these songs and approximately a million others was Nile Rodgers. Seriously, you could get pretty lost in the weeds trying to chase down every recording he's had a hand in–I just found out, for example, that he produced and played rhythm guitar on my favorite B-52s track, "Topaz”.  Like the telltale trumpet trills of a Capitol-era Sinatra record or the twelve-string twang of The Byrds, Rodgers leaves his indelible but never overbearing signature on everything he touches so that even if you can't quite put your finger on it, you're glad that he already has. - Melvyn Brown

MC50 – Saturday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

There’s no reason for this to happen.  The last time the MC5 were together, Richard Nixon was still in office. Wayne Kramer is the only original member playing, which should give music fans some reservations about why this is happening. There’s too many high profiled reunion tours that last too long and barely have any connection with the original music. Why would I want to see this band? The answer is easy, Kim Thayil (Soundgarden) and Brendan Canty (Fugazi). If those guys are in your “cover band” then they’re worth seeing. - Jon Foster  

Palberta - Saturday, 10:30pm (Slim’s)

The problem with having too many music fans on your social media page is that you’re inundated with new stuff. There’s always something to check out. Most of the time I feel that listening to new music is homework: I have to listen to everything, or I won’t pass some god-awful hipster test. Add friend suggestions and posts from music blogs, and you’re never really on top of stuff. I “try” new things constantly, clicking on a few seconds of a new song three or four times a day. Somehow Palberta appeared in my Facebook newsfeed like it would for any “hip” 37 year old. I loved them immediately. They were trashy, noisy, and complicated all at the same time. They’re the perfect antidote for well-orchestrated soullessness. I imagine two things might happen when I see them: either they will play a transcendent show, or everything will fall apart as soon as they hit the stage. I don’t know which I prefer. - Jon Foster

Yonatan Gat - Saturday, 10:30pm (Pour House)

The first time I saw Yonatan Gat, he was playing as a trio on the floor of Snug Harbor in Charlotte. Setup in a circle, the band had lamps with colored bulbs surrounding them. Gat would switch them off and on to indicate a change was coming in the (to my ears) largely improvised songs they were playing. Gat (who the Village Voice once named best guitarist in NYC) is a dexterous, dynamic player who eschews effects, save for a wah-wah pedal leading into a reverb soaked amp. And the band is a Hendrix-Experience-but-in-the-2010s ball of psych freakout, holding it down while creeping into catchy chaos. On the latest album Universalists, radical tape-splicing techniques were used in assembling the record; I’m very eager to hear how that fractured methodology takes shape live. - Eddie Garcia

Mind Over Mirrors - Saturday, 11pm (Fletcher)

Last year’s Undying Color was one of my favorite albums of 2017. The drone of Jaime Fennelly’s harmonium was elevated by propulsive rhythms, searing synths, and cascading mysterious vocals. The blend was intoxicating. This year’s Bellowing Sun I can only describe as a Steve Reich dance party. They describe it as, “a sonic inquiry into celestial cycles and the illuminating nature of darkness.” So see, you win either way really. My No. 1 pick. - Eddie Garcia

Sarah Shook & The Disarmers -  Saturday, 11:00pm (Lincoln Theatre)

Once a beloved pourer of libations at Chapel Hill’s (not closing) The Cave, triangle folks haven’t seen much of our hometown hero lately, and for a damn good reason: our queer country crooner is ruling the world on a major tour. Shook and company stomped through Charlotte in June to open for Willie Nelson, and now the Triangle kids are getting our turn. - Dustin K.  Britt

Grouper - Saturday, 12:00am (Fletcher)

I think I’ve established that ONE kind of music I like to listen to is sad, sad music. I think this predilection emerged sometime around the release of Use Your Illusion II by Guns N' Roses. “Civil War,” “November Rain,” me swaying in my dark bedroom with a bowl cut, you get the idea. Well, I’m not ten anymore, so I need SADDER. I can’t wait to stand before the unfurling sparkle of the sequin weighted blanket that is Grouper. I just want to feel it in my sad bastard body. I need a hit, man, and Grouper’s got the sad stuff. - Tom Sowders

Dustin K. Britt is a Durham-based performing arts critic and award-winning theatre artist. He is the managing editor of Chatham Life & Style and provides content for IndyWeek and Carolina Parent. In your spare time, you can stalk him on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.  

Melvyn Brown is a musician (Toothsome, Broads, NONCANON, Ladies Auxiliary) and writer from Greensboro, NC who is also passionate about the Four Ts: taking photographs, Thai food, technology, and thrift stores. His appreciation of Scotch whisky is not necessarily related to Steely Dan. You can follow him on Twitter, Instagram, or at generalclearinghouse.com

JON FOSTER IS A MAIL-ARTIST, TEACHER, AND PASSIONATE DEFENDER OF MATH ROCK. 

EDDIE GARCIA PLAYS GUITAR AND ALL THE PEDALS AS 1970S FILM STOCK. YOU CAN ALSO HEAR HIM REPORTING ON NPR AFFILIATE 88.5 WFDD IN WINSTON-SALEM, NC. IN THE WEE HOURS HE RUNS PEDAL FUZZ, WHICH IS A PROUD RECIPIENT OF A GRANT FROM THE ARTS ENTERPRISE LAB / KENAN INSTITUTE FOR THE ARTS.

Tom Sowders pirouettes angrily through the streets of downtown Raleigh. Like really aggressively, really windmilling his arms around. His hobbies are not using his PhD and fronting the band Toothsome.