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nationalharryleague · 4 years

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Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.��

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

An extra for our babies can be found here!

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lovelosescongrats · 2 years

Text

ranking mcc skins: mcc20

reject the reddit mcc players tier list, embrace the skin tier list. /hj

before we get into the madness that is me, a sapphic ranking pixels, some things!

1) this is all just my opinion. keep it to yourself if you have any shit to say.

2) all the skins that were made by fans are really great and I wish I had your level of talent and skill! please do not take this seriously at all I'm just messing around.

3) I will not give as detailed explanations for some rankings. they're cool, I liked them well enough, I just have nothing extra to say

now let's get into it:

link here to make your own tierlist. made by yours truly. please tag me if you're using it!

da vinky wishes he could

the highest tier! i want to stare at all these skins lovingly for hours.

eret. as always, she is giving me A Look. the slit, the off shoulder, the high waistline, the floor length gown. I could not pull this off but he is doing beautifully in it. (also i am bisexual)

gumi. she's giving me e-girled red riding hood and it goes surprisingly well together. (again i am bisexual)

elaina. for some reason, this reminds me a lot of jan's tulle look in s12 of drag race? it's very pleasant to look at, the brown/orange/white ensemble is a delight. (did you remember that I am bisex- *gunshots*)

5up. to this day I'm still not sure if his skin is a turnip or an onion, but nevertheless it's very adorable. the idea of stuffing a vegetable into a 90s style colorful sportswear is very funny to me, so he's way up there. also, the little axolotl is so cute? kudos to whoever made this one I am gently cradling it in my hands.

scar. frankly, it's scar and it's his first mcc, so he could literally show up in a white t-shirt and jeans but I'd still be like scar!!!! and plop him on the top. BUT he did not so I feel very justified in putting him there! the little flower (that's matching with grian's, shoutout to all the desert duo/scarian fans), that scarf, that's a dapper looking man right there.

pete. to be fair pete has an advantage because his base skin is along the same color palette as his team, so he's very easy to look at. (as you will see later on, this is extremely important for me) the waistcoat, the belt, the chain, everything fits together so well.

I was delighted. good job

seapeekay. red continues to be the best dressed team. points to whoever made the skin, I adore it.

illumina. I love gradients. where's his flower crown though?

false. falsie!!! *twirls hair and giggles* she looks so so so good. she was this close to making it to top tier for me, but unfortunately a lot of the colors in her outfits was to similar to one another and made it hard for me to see the details, so she had to stay in this tier. but the flower crown, the skirt, the jacket, its all just *chef's kiss*

cubfan. flower crown, jacket, nice.

tapl. green and pink is a color combination hard to pull off, but this entire team (minus the obvious) all looked so good! the flower as a knee patch were a good touch too. the cardigan seem very soft. a man i would trust.

shubble. ahah when girls do The Thing! (<- existing) the overalls and the bandanna is lovely and the details are amazing. both her and tubbo could have made it higher if not for those socks/leg warmer things. i don't know why some people are so obsessed with them-they're impossible to wear and essentially functionless? also realistically they make your legs look way shorter so :/ no

tubbo. see above, very cute.

scott. cute gecko pattern, looks very comfy.

the captain. gold buttons very pretty, light green collar also pretty.

ryguyrocky. why are his eyes like that.

antfrost. to quote scar, did I just see a cat go by with a track suit on? the concept is hilarious and the execution good.

gem. I adore cc!gem, c!gem, and this skin is adorable. (ahah women amirite)

hbomb. put more beefy men in crop tops 2k22.

oli. giving zombie jock, cool.

quig. open shirt, also cool.

ponk. just a color re-texture but still easy to look at. am verging close to dropping a tier though.

kara. see above

purpled. also see above.

jackmanifold. red/pink good combo, nice flower.

passing grade. star for trying

niki. it's nice, but the overall thing just ticks me the wrong way. (shoutout to her makeup on mcc day though almost made me cry cc!niki is so pretty)

puffy. that's just a dragonballz costume.

punz. see above.

martyn. I want to like it so much but I despise bow ties and it doesn't have anything else special to redeem it so :/ sorry king

ranboo. why does it look like he's in green cargo pants oh god- +1 for the suspender, -5 for the cargo shorts I hate those with a burning passion

preston. I understand they wanted to keep the most iconic part but the red and blue is clashing and throwing the whole thing off. bad on the eyes.

sam. see above, the green and blue do not mesh well together.

connor. again, just a color re-texture and there's not enough distinct shadowing to move it upwards. looking very cozy saves him from a lower tier, though.

sb737. having more of a gradient would have moved him up.

soft *meh*

it was hard to put anyone in this section. i'm sorry, guys.

purpled. dude, thats just Orange. also, you look so similar to other blonde white boy in your group that I had to check four times to make sure I didn't get you wrong, so in the meh tier you go.

philza. his original skin was already green, so there wasn't enough of a change to make me like it. sorry.

abhorred. beloathed.

unsuprisingly, it was very easy to put these four fuckers in this section. ps, the hermbi discord unanimously put these four in the shame corner. completely deserved, I'm not in the slightest bit sorry.

wilbur. for the love of god please put in some effort. where is your team spirit, white boy?

sneegsnag. no.

fruit. sir who peeled you and revealed that you are raw meat?

tommy. stop learning from wilbur's bs.

who would have won mcc20 if it was based on their skin and also up to me?

team totals:

in first place, tied three ways: 13 marks

red rabbits: the red and black is an iconic combo. i am maybe in love with 3/4 of this group.

cyan creepers: well dressed dapper boys

aqua axolotols: still winning no matter what because they are just that great

in second place, tied two ways: 10 marks

yellow yaks: incredibly well dressed

blue bats: special mention to the desaturated skins because they're bats. devil's in the details.

in third place, tied four ways: 9 marks

orange ocelots

lime llamas: blame wilbur

green geckos

purple pandas

in last, because of fruit and tommy's crimes: 5 marks

pink parrots

this took me almost the whole evening. I'm not sure if it's worth it. nevertheless, I will be doing this once more when mcc21 rolls around! stay around for that if you want to.

#kue loses #ranking mcc skins #mcc20 #mcc #mcc skins #eret #vgumiho #elainaexe #5up #goodtimeswitscar #petezahut

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jxmieoleksiaks · 3 years

Text

Paradise -> Mat Barzal

This is for @antoineroussel ‘s summer fic exchange! I had the lovely, and awesome @texanstarslove I was so excited when I found out I had you, but wanted to wait until the season ended, though I know just like me, you didn’t need a repeat of last year. I think your writing is amazing, and I’ll never forget you randomly boosted me, and I’ve gained a lot of followers since then. I really hope you enjoy. I’m also so sorry this took so long 💚

Word Count: 2,390 Smut: Mentions Language: Yes

It was like deja vu. The team had lost again, to the same team, in the same round, for the second year in a row. This time though, it stung a little more, as their were fans, and they were in Tampa. It didn’t help the players were making fun of the guys getting a little emotional. You were too, and not only because you were heartbroken about the loss, it was your boyfriend Mat. He worked his butt off all season, and off season to stay in shape, and be best for his team. You knew he would get emotional, and he did, the first night after the loss, being the toughest. He was proud of him and his teammates, and vowed to make sure this didn’t happen again.

Mat was one of the toughest guys you knew. From the random night you met him at the bar, to when he had the two black eyes in last years playoffs, literally nothing stopped him. The idea of love never existed in your mind. Seeing your parents loveless marriage and hoping one day they would divorce and you could live with your mother, made you think that actual love never existed. But with Mat it was easy, you two could have nights out, and nights in and have the same amount of fun, you could see a future with him, but you were not in any rush for major things to happen.

It was now July, and you two had decided to take a vacation, a much needed one in fact. With last years bubble, and this years crazy season, he needed a vacation just as much as you did, someone who worked 40 hours a week, and also had to log in some on the weekend.

“Okay, where should we go?” You asked Mat, who was reclined at the end of the couch, while your legs were across his waist, laying on the couch, with your laptop sitting on you with vacation websites on.

“Somewhere warm?” He questioned, as he was watching the NBA finals.

‘That narrows it down a bit.” You laughed.

“You know what I mean!” He laughed back. “No where that’s like, not beach like, does that help?” He asked, taking a drink of the beer he was drinking.

“Yes, thanks.” You shook your head and started to google places you two could go.

As much as you loved Disney, and wanted to go there, you two needed some private time, and that was not the place for it. You looked a couple more places, and gasped at the website you were on.

“Look at this!” You exclaimed and sat up.

He looked to his left and noticed a vacation website for a resort in the Maldives. There were resorts. and private villa’s, and as you saw on your many hours of Tik Tok scrolling, it was pretty affordable.

“Oh that looks really cool.” He nodded, grabbing the MacBook from you to look around.

“It’s perfect, I heard it’s pretty adorable too.”

“Babe, that shouldn’t be the deciding factor, I can afford to take you to somewhere you really wanna go.” He said seriously. You did appreciate that about him, but in the back of your mind, you didn’t want people to think you were using him for his money, which was not the case whatsoever. You loved him for him, and you were just someone who worked and cheered on your boyfriend.

“Yeah, but I wanna go here!” You smiled. “Let me and a cool resort, and then we can think about booking it.” You smiled as you got off the couch quickly to grab a glass of wine, loving the fact you were about to book a romantic and fun vacation.

The trip was booked about three hours later, and in two weeks you would be heading to an island paradise. You never flew across the ocean before, so that part. made you nervous, but you couldn’t be more excited to finally get some peace and quiet with Mat.

You and Mat were now sitting at the gate in JFK, getting ready to catch the first flight, which landed in Dubai. You had an iced latte in your hand, which made the nerves you were having a little bit worse. Along with never flying across the ocean, you’ve never had a 19 hour flight before, and that was nerve-racking to you.

“Babe, are you okay?” He asked you, sounding concerned.

“Yeah, I think it’s the flight that makes me nervous.” You said, before taking a sip of the coffee.

“It’s gonna be alright, I promise, plus we have first class, and that should make things a little more comfortable. If you feel uneasy, just lean on me.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head, making your mind ease, and heart feel warm with love.

Movies, laughs, and naps made the flight, and it’s connecting in Dubai, made it so much easier to do, and now you two were on a boat with other couples, and three families to make their way to the resort. When the two of you checked in, and headed to your bungalow, you felt like you could cry. The water was a type of blue you had only seen in movies. The sky, was something out of a book, that you could imagine with your eyes closed. It was perfect.

“Holy shit, you gotta see this patio!” Mat said as he was walking around the place you were staying the next week. You walked outside and saw a private deck, with some chairs, but also a swing. You just imagined watching the sunset with the both of you on the swing.

“I don’t know how I was able to find this place and pull it off so easy. This is a literal Oasis.” You said, your eyes almost bulging out of your head with how beautiful it was.

“Ah, well, the view is almost as beautiful as you.” He grinned.

“Mat, nothing is as beautiful as this view, shh.” You laughed and rolled your eyes, but you knew he meant those words.

You never purposely pushed his complements down, it’s just who you were. You never really got complements before meeting him, so it was kind of..a reaction. The first time he compared you to the beautiful full moon, one April night, you almost cried with laughter. You thought he was quoting a movie or something, but you could tell he really meant it. He knows that you’re going to shove them off, knowing that something that happens in nature, and in space is something amazing, but he really thought you hung the moon.

There was a little cafe in the main part of the resort, away from all the bungalows. You could get your morning cup of coffee, while eating breakfast and looking out at the views, and people watch too. It was the middle day of your trip, and you were already dreading of leaving, but didn’t want to think about that just yet. You two were going to do your own things today, he wanted to golf, and you wanted to check out the resort spa. You had gotten up before he did, and went over to the cafe, leaving him a note, since he didn’t wake up for anything, and kisses his forehead.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Mat questioned, as he sat down with a cup of coffee, already dressed for a day out on the green.

“I tried…You don’t wake up for shit!” You laughed. “If we were home, and the dog went missing, I would scream, you would snore.” A giggle left your mouth as he rolled his eyes, he knew it was true, and so did you.

“When we finish up, we can change and go out to the bar, that’s over the water.” He said, taking a sip of coffee.

Your heart about fluttered, the views from the bar looked amazing, the bar after dark, over the ocean, thought you could do that in your bungalow, something about drinks around other people, and being so close to Mat, excited you to no end.

You and Mat planned on going to the bar when he cleaned up from his day of golf, but a nap called the both of you, and you two didn’t get there until after the sunset. You were a little bummed, until you saw the bar, and it’s area surrounded in hanging lights,

“Wow.” You sighed, after the waiter took the drink orders. “How does this place keep getting better…” You said, unable to believe you were here.

“I hope these drinks are good.” He chuckled, throwing your own feelings back to you.

“Oh, so now I get the shoved response?” You playfully rolled your eyes, before looking at the ocean in front of you.

The tequila sunrises and Screw Drivers the two of you were drinking, were really making you two feel really good. You don’t remember when you decided to sit on Mat’s lap, but he was pretty comfortable, and was keeping a good grip on you.

“You know, you could stick your hand up my dress and no one would know.” You giggled, before taking the last sip of your tequila sunrise.

“There’s no one around?” He looked around.

“I..don’t think so, it’s dark, there could be people around us, but that’s more fun.” The alcohol was running through you,

“As much as I love that idea, and how I would love for you to just ride me, I think it would be better to do this in the room, no?” He asked, his lips against your neck.

You never had the idea of something pubic, but he was right, your private space was made for the adventures you two had in bed, and though you two were having a lot of fun doing that already, you always had time for more, and agreed.

“Let’s go back.” You whispered before you hopped off his lap.

He paid the bill and left a decent tip for the waiter, he did hear the both of you slightly slur and probably thought you two were up to something when you hopped on his lap. You grabbed Mat’s hand and headed back to the bungalow.

You were first into where you were staying, and he quickly picked you up after you set your bag down on the table. You giggled as he placed you on the bed and hovered over you.

“I don’t know how you do it, you just look so damn beautiful.” He whispered before he quickly pressed his lips onto yours. You wrapped your arms around him as he kissed you deeply, you two may have been a little tipsy, but you could feel the love in every kiss, and every movement after.

You two probably would have woke neighbors if you had any. The way Mat made you feel was something no on else had been able to do. With the couple of years you two had been together, he knew where to touch you, how to do it, and what to do, to make you come undone in a matter of moments. A lot of people would say men don’t care that their woman didn’t cum, but he did, and he made sure you did every time.

You let out a load moan, and released as Mat groaned. After a moment of staying connected, he pulled out, and after you ran to the bathroom, you two were now laying in bed, bare and the moon shining into your room.

“This trip has been perfect so far.” You sighed quietly, as you set your head on his chest.

“You did good babe, I have to admit it.” He chuckled as he played with your hair.

“Is it bad I had no idea where this place was until I had to google it?” You asked, not being the best with geography, but honestly not knowing where it was.

“You really think I knew where this place is, babe….” He said, knowing he wasn’t that great with geography either.

“Fuck what happens if we get on the wrong flight or something?!” You asked.

“Siri will help us, because we can’t help our way around a map. I’m not the leader in any of these hockey trips for a reason.” He shook his head, and you covered your face trying not to laugh so hard.

“Listen, I know the last couple of seasons didn’t go as planned, but I don’t know if I could be more proud of you, you just…work so hard, and I see it, and I hope others do too. If you go to the Olympics, and they let family in, I’m screaming my ass off for team Canada.” You said, meaning every single word.

“I like heading that from the guys, but babe, you know it means so much coming from you.” He said. “And trust me, if I even make the Olympic team, I’d love to have you there. You’d be screaming the loudest, and probably freak out some of the others, and I want nothing more than that.” He started to laugh more.

Even with your normal type job, you wanted to be there for him as much as you could. You had even worked remotely to support him in the playoffs, and knowing he would do the same for you if he had the chance meant so much. You knew he was the one, even though you two were a little busy to think about the M word, you knew, when you both were ready, you would be the one, that he would ask, you, and you would say yes.

“Babe?” He asked you.

“What’s up?” You were a little nervous, he sounded a little unsure of himself.

“You’re gonna plan our next vacation when we get back, right? You’ve done great with this one, and now I need you to plan everything.”

You hid your face in his chest, and started laughing again.

“I love you.” You told him.

“I love you too babe, he kissed the top of your head, something you always wanted him to do, and it brought you comfort, the feeling that you had right at this moment.

#summer fic exchange #mat barzal #mat barzal flc #my writing #New York Islanders #the gif in the post is mine pls do not steal

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its-kall-the-clown · 3 years

Text

writingamongther0ses submitted:

Red Son and Huntsman forming a "Has a Crush on a Hero" Club where they're just... messes about Xiaotian and Sandy

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This is such a silly goofy light-hearted idea it kind of ended up on crack territory sorry XD but it ends up being angst at the end. This also gave me a chance to talk about Huntsman’s human disguise I plan to one day draw when I get the energy

Enjoy!

prompt list

Secret Fan Club

Rated: G

Huntsman adjusted his dove-colored button-up. He felt overdressed but Syntax INSISTED that he at least try and dress quote-unquote 'normal' for when he was on the surface around humans.

He felt less normal than he had been in his LIFE right now. it's too tight and too hot for him in this form. He passes by a window of a shop and shudders when he sees himself in the reflection.

A human face looks back at him.

Too few green eyes and grey hair pulled back into his normal braid. He adjusts the watch around his wrist that was responsible for making him look like this, an invention created by Syntax. One that cost him all his hidden snacks to borrow for the day, and cost him even MORE promised snacks to have Syntax configure it to his body. (He was a hair shorter than them and much wider).

But regardless the results were eerily perfect. He was described as a 'silver fox' by Syntax which he didn't know what that means but foxes are crafty predators so it must be a compliment.

And the pain and fuss would be worth it.

Because he had a very important mission and an even more important person waiting for him that would be the solution to his problem.

He enters the coffee shop and scans the crowd and spots his target.

The demon prince Red Son.

They dress similarly, a sharp wine-colored button-up that he has rolled to his elbows with an expensive pair of sunglasses covering his eyes and disguising him. They have a laptop in front of them that he types away at.

He slides in the seat across from him casually and Red Son holds a single finger up as he finishes typing whatever he had left. He clicks off and closes his laptop. And folds his hands in his lap.

“Did you bring it?” he asked and Huntsman does a quick look around the coffee shop to make sure no one was looking, nothing but awkward first dates and hipsters with their laptops out.

He drops the folder onto the table and slides it across to Red Son who only raises a brow at him challengingly.

“Read it and weep,” Huntsman smirks as even underneath the sunglasses he can see the demon roll his eyes at him. They huff and open the folder and flip through, each page he only glasses at before he slams it close and throws it back at him from across the table.

“Pathetic.”

“What?!”

“I said pathetic! None of these are good.”

Huntsman growls and snatches the folder back; he grabs the third page and rips it out, shoving it in the smug bastard's face.

“You can’t tell me THIS picture isn’t the best thing you have seen. He's shirtless for crying out loud!” Huntsman flips the photo around to examine the buff blue image of Sandy as he works on loading some crates onto his ship. The setting sun cast him in a halo light that makes the spider demon weak.

“He’s always shirtless, it's nothing special. Now, THIS!” Red Son flips his phone around to show a photo of MK. “-This is TRULY spectacular.” The boy is leaned back against the bars of his fire escape, the photo, a tired look to his face, and a popsicle dripping down his chin as he tries to beat the summer heat.

Red Son examines his own phone now and sets his face into his chin with a sigh.

“He’s frustratingly handsome no matter what he does...wish we could have hung out that night” the demon grumbles looking at the phone heartbrokenly

Huntsman sighs and leans against the table, he understands exactly where Red Son is coming from, he’s in a similar situation. Crushing so hard on the larger demon and absolutely no way to bridge the gap between villain and hero. It's why they started meeting up. They were in a similar boat and understood each other's strife more than anyone ever could.

So they would share pictures, talk about how ridiculously handsome or cute their crushes were. Huntsman would talk about how he wanted Sandy to put those big muscles to use and Red Son would talk about how he knew MK’s favorite noodle bowl on the menu was.

Was this creepy? Absolutely.

But what other choice did they have? They didn't have a chance in hell to get a relationship with the objects of their affection, so it was best to fantasize from afar and hope this stupid Crush would pass.

Huntsman didn't think his crush would ever disappear.

His fist tightened on his pants as he stared at the folder of pictures. It was unfair. Why couldn't he have fallen for a regular spider demon from his clan? Why did it have to be someone who was endlessly patient and kind and who smiled so brightly? He had watched the man nurse a fucking butterfly back to health for crying out loud!!

How could you NOT fall for a man who could handle something so delicate with such large….warm….hands. He wonders if those huge hands would cradle him as gently as butterfly wings. Holding his face between them before they leaned forward and-

Huntsman shakes his head realizing he was drifting into daydream territory again. Couldn't have that.

“I was thinking….” Red Son sets his phone down and looks nervous, the first time Huntsman had ever seen the man fidget before so this must be serious.

“About?”

“What if…” Red Son bites his lip “-what if I asked him out? You think he would punch me?” Red Son looks at Huntsman with expecting eyes and it reminds him that not only is the prince younger than him but that Red Son had a sensitive side he kept locked up. He had only seen it a handful of times in their secret meet-ups.

Huntsman considers his words carefully. Red Son and MK were enemies, buuutt Red Son and the Monkie kid had teamed up to defeat his queen during new Year, something he was salty about but became an off-limits talking subject between the two.

MK and him...they had chemistry. He’s certain that If Red Son put in the effort MK would give him a chance.

“I think... it's worth trying,” he says and the younger of the two eyes light up with the verbal support he received.

“You should try the same with Sandy” Red Son encourages and Huntsman can only give him a forlorn smile.

“It would never work….” he gathers up the photos of Sandy and puts them neatly back in the folder. There are a few photos of sunsets and cats he took when he was waiting for Sandy to show up to his normal spots,

He sets those pictures on top, hiding the rest from view. He actually was finding he was enjoying photography, perhaps he should take it up as a hobby. Maybe take photos of landscapes and black and white bridges and give up creeping on Sandy.

Never give up his crush... He didn't think he could do that, but at least he should give up torturing himself. Especially if Red Son somehow worked it out with MK.

Then he would truly be alone in his strife.

#monkie kid #SilkTea #spicynoodleshipping #Huntsman #Red Son #Writting Prompts #Prompt asks #I was gonna write more where Sandy actually meets Huntsman in his human form #but then I ran out of steam sorry #maybe next time fjsdlkg #submission

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miyacchis · 3 years

Text

Notes from a Con Man - Musical Great Pretender Stage Report Act 1

This is a bit extremely rambly, but I want to give some description of the distinguishing features of the staged version of Great Pretender as compared to the anime, although my plan is not to give a complete recap of the plot, as I’m sure anyone who is choosing to read this has watched the anime - or so I assume, but you know you do you. I try to control myself and keep it just to what is relevant, but I’m also a wordy bitch and that will never change, so, reader beware, I guess.

The stage is set up with three levels (the stage level, the second floor, and the third floor where the band is). Both the stage level and second floor have a couple of rooms that can be pulled out or opened, and backgrounds are projected onto the set to create different settings. With the exception of the opening theme, which is taken from the anime, all of the music is live, and there’s very good interplay between the band and the performers, and I don’t know if I’d ever been to another show that felt so vibrant/alive/idk?

First, the biggest change made for the sake of clear storytelling on the stage is the addition of a framing device: the plot is conveyed to the audience through Edamura’s (Miyata Toshiya) narration as he tells his story to a prosecutor after the events of LA Connection. The play opens where LA Connection ends with Edamura being questioned at a police station, where it’s clear that he has been attempting for hours to convince detectives to believe the team-confidence-wild-and-wacky-adventures ™ explanation as to how he came to be in possession of a bag stuffed with foreign currency. Detectives are fed up with him and ready to go berniewiththesteelchair.jpeg on his ass. Enter Kitaoji (Kato Ryo), an elite prosecutor who seems to be on track to become attorney general, although it is unclear to those at the police station why he would take interest in Edamura’s case.

Edamura is initially reluctant to open up to Kitaoji (Kato Ryo), certain that he won’t be believed, but after Kitaoji quotes from Shakunetsu (side note: I had no idea that in English Shakunetsu was turned into Die Hot which is an absolutely incredible pun and I really commend the translator), Edamura thinks Kitaoji might be just the person to believe him and help him to make amends to all those he had harmed through his life of fraud. Kitaoji encourages Edamura to start at the beginning and goes to eat a piece of candy, prompting Edamura to question, “What would you do if this simple piece of candy was sold for $5 million?” at which point he begins telling his story, transporting us first to a club in Hollywood where we are introduced to the plot with Sakura Magic and, more importantly, Laurent (Miya Rurika, goddess, dressed devastatingly in green), who is identified in quick succession as a French trader, an arrogant Don Juan, and the “bastard who got me into this mess.”

Edamura bumbles through Laurent’s plot to build hype and clinch a deal with Cassano (Otani Ryosuke) by having Abby (Yamamoto Chihiro) “test” the “drug,” while giving small asides to Kitaoji to explain the main players and reveal to him that this is all a con job, but when Edamura is called to sign the contract to supply Cassano with the drug for $5 million, he flips out, pulls Salazar’s (Mikami Ichiro) gun, and flees the club, without the excuse of believing that he had taken drugs as he did in the anime. It is also not at this point that Edamura makes the connection between Laurent and Kudo and realizes that he’s been set up (Miyata!Edamura is overall a bit less perceptive than Kobayashi!Edamura, as we shall see, although I think this was a function of simplifying aspects of the characters’ interactions for the sake of clarity for the stage).

Kitaoji pops in and out of the story from this point, donning different costumes (an unhoused person, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Razzie from the Shakunetsu series, etc.) to illustrate different aspects of the main characters’ conversations, and he serves as a way to get into Edamame’s head, allowing him to express what he is thinking and feeling as events in the story play out. It is in the metanarrative that we get some of these more comedic scenes, as well as additional insight into Edamura’s character as he grapples with his own identity as a scam artist and the son of a child trafficker.

After escaping Cassano’s henchmen outside the club, Edamura rejoins Kitaoji to ask if he’s following the story so far, which of course he is not (lol), so Edamura dives into how he met Laurent and came to be in LA. From here we flashback three days, joining Edamura and Kudo (Fukumoto Shinichi) in Asakusa as they spy Laurent as a potential mark. Edamura pulls the wallet-switch trick, and this scene generally follows the anime, although parts, such as the scenes showing Edamura selling water filters and Edamura and Kudo being raided by what seems to be the police, have been cut. After realizing that Laurent pickpocketed him and saw through his grift, Edamura quickly follows and catches him as he is about to depart in a cab to the airport. Just a moment to talk about this cab because it was such a cute, clever idea; it was really just a little push car driven by one of the supporting cast, and it can be disconnected in the middle, so as the driver pulls off, the back seat can be left behind, allowing the audience to watch Laurent and Edamura’s conversation as they are taken to the airport.

Similarly to the anime, the successive scenes are nominally delivered in English, so Edamura switches to a dialect of Japanese to represent his accented English, which I mention only because Miyata discussed Edamura’s code switching with Kobayashi (Edamura’s Japanese voice actor) in an interview in vol. 51 of Stage Square and how he was concerned that he might confuse Standard Japanese and the dialect during scenes where he has to go back and forth quickly. Kobayashi reassured him that as he got into the character of Edamura Miyata would naturally fall into dialect whenever speaking to Laurent and Abby, and I’m very biased, buuuttttt throughout the run of the show, Miyata performed this beautifully, and as someone who for several years lived in the Tohoku region, the dialect of which Edamura’s accent reminded me of, his accent made me really nostalgic.

Anywayyyyyy

After Laurent and Edamura bet on the outcome of Laurent’s upcoming “business negotiations” and it’s agreed that they will travel to LA together, the opening theme plays, the main cast is introduced, with Edamura running up and down the set to give a sense of action, the title in massive letters is lowered onto the stage, and we rejoin the main plot with Edamura trying to elude Cassano’s gang on the streets of LA by hiding behind the title. The supporting cast gives us some great background color as like random people in LA, like we’ve got some girls with Starbucks cups, some people breakdancing while simultaneously mugging a Dodgers fan, a skateboarder shouting “STREET”...for some reason. Perfect encapsulation of America *chef’s kiss*

Laurent finds Edamura and tells him to come home because he’s a good boy (😳), and Edamura is then introduced to Abby who, just as in the anime, kicks and knocks him out, after which they collect him and take him to an upscale hotel where Cynthia/Paula Dickens (Senna Ayase) is performing as a jazz singer. Laurent greets her briefly, but we don’t properly get introduced to her character until a later, very frustrating scene, but I’m not going to get started on that yet (it’s not her that’s frustrating, but it’s how they chose to have her and Edamura meet, but anyway we’ll get there). She sings “Summertime,” and it’s a lovely performance; all of her acting choices are very clearly informed by her experience in Takarazuka - she has these really dynamic, almost over-the-top movements and she uses that to her advantage to be one of the more comedic actors - and it’s really entertaining to watch.

Laurent orders them drinks; Edamura has something pink in a little martini glass, and he splutters when he tries to take a sip because he can’t handle his alcohol, which makes Laurent laugh, giving a lot of credence to Laurent’s statement soon after that he derives a lot of pleasure out of toying with naive boys like Edamura who pretend to be tougher than they really are. There’s also some funny adlib with Abby at this point where she gets brought different plates of food like fake fruit on one day and a tower of donuts on another. Laurent explains who Cassano is and the plan to defraud him and gives Edamura a notebook with a fabricated recipe for Sakura Magic, so the notebook is not part of what Edamura prepares himself when he goes later to get himself captured by Cassano to negotiate with him. Edamura has a couple of outbursts accusing Laurent and Abby of putting on airs, pretending to be carrying out justice, repeatedly interrupting the band who give him dirty looks and Shi-won, dressed as one of the saxophonists, loudly blows the saxophone back at him, and this prompts Laurent to be like nah we’re getting too much attention here let’s continue this back at the hotel.

The hotel scene is fairly similar to the anime, but once Edamura is left alone, we get the first instance of him thinking about his family as he reflect on what Laurent had to say about how people don’t always believe the truth that is in front of them as they would rather believe whatever is most convenient. He flashes back to his family going home together after his father finished a case (the hotel room is on the second floor with his mom and dad entering on the stage level; the younger version of Edamura is done in voice over), and of course they seem like a happy family, although it’s interesting that what his dad has to say about ethics was cut from the script. The scene focuses more on Edamura idolizing his father as a great lawyer.

Okay, so we’ve finally come to the scene I absolutely hated and did not think was necessary, after Edamura leaves the hotel room. He is approached by three unhoused persons, one of whom he at first thinks is Kitaoji coming to interrupt the narrative again, but he soon realizes that they are “real homeless.” It was really just a disgusting, cruel stereotype; one of them is playing with a rat they found, another is acting like a junkie, and the ringleader is trying to get money off of him because they haven’t eaten in three days and then they steal his little Toyotomi Hideyoshi figurine and play keepaway with it and don’t stop until Cynthia/Paula Dickens (at this point she’s Paula tho so I’m going to refer to her that way) enters and is like knock it off. So that’s how they meet. Cool. They could easily have come up with something else and they just didn’t.

But, anyway, since he got his figurine back, he explains to Paula that his hobby is collecting capsule toys, and during his explanation, a gacha machine is projected up on the stage, out of which comes Kitaoji dressed as Toyotomi, followed by a bunch of other figures from Japanese history. This part always got a pretty good laugh out of the audience, and I think it was a pretty cute way to stage it. Paula insists they go to dinner together, so she can hear more about Toyotomi, and the capsule toy figurines all follow to a diner (serving “breadfast” 24hrs lol) where Shi-won is dressed as someone named Ricardo. The figurines all start to get drunk, while “Ricardo” fixes Edamura and Paula some tacos; meanwhile Edamura explains that Toyotomi began as a simple peasant, but because of his hard work and study, he was able to climb all the way to the top and unite all of Japan as a powerful lord.

Edamura asks why she decided to help him before and he despairs that he must seem like a beaten dog, but she explains that while she might seem confident, she faces tremendous anxiety getting on stage every day, particularly as she wants to make it big as a performer but can’t expect to get the attention of a label just because she can sing a bit. (In the background, Francis Xavier is completely sloshed and ends up drinking with Ricardo) Edamura suggests that she take inspiration from Toyotomi as someone who was able to trick even his enemies into working with him and represent herself as someone more important than she is to get music producers onto her side. She seems fired up by this proposal, and she says that she’ll follow the example of Toyotomi, “Japan’s best confidence man,” which gives Edamura his own motivation to get back to trying to win the bet with Laurent. He asks Paula to wish him good luck and runs off, and we get the first dance scene with Edamura and a number of samurai as he builds up to confronting Cassano. The scene ends with him running into a video shop, presumably to rent Cassano’s movies.

Laurent and Abby are called to Cassano’s mansion - they argue if Edamura is capable of pulling off a job like this, although Laurent insists that he has a natural talent - but they are certain that he must be dead when they hear from Salazar that Edamura was taken into their custody at the airport trying to run. However, Edamura bursts onto the scene, dressed in a new Hawaiian shirt, and at this point, Miyata looks as though he has been in a swimming pool, but it’s just sweat lmao. Cassano informs them that he’s made a new deal with Edamura for $10 million, and when they ask how, we get a flashback showing how he got onto Cassano’s good side by praising Shakunetsu with Kitaoji, as Razzie, acting out scenes from the Shakunetsu movies on the second floor of the stage. Whenever Cassano hugs Edamura in these scenes, it was really funny because his jacket would get just absolutely covered in Miyata’s sweat just ugh gross lol

Cassano’s accountant joins them and they play out the whole bit about confirming Edamura’s credentials as a pharmaceutical scientist, at which point Edamura finally realizes that Kudo is working with Laurent, when he calls Kudo to thank him for deceiving Cassano’s attorneys. After Cassano has confirmed Edamura’s identity, he takes the crew to his factory and insists that Edamura make Sakura Magic for them right there and then so that they can be sure to properly replicate his recipe. She does this the whole play, but particularly during this scene, you can really see how well Miya Rurika portrays Laurent as always calm and and in control before Edamura but as quietly losing his shit whenever he feels like they’ve been backed into a corner, and we also get some very cute like Laurent clearly being exasperated with Edamura but the two of them starting to be able to play off one another as they convince Cassano that the factory isn’t up to snuff for making Sakura Magic.

They have to clear out because they hear someone coming, but Cassano promises that he will build a new laboratory for Edamura and entrusts his care to Salazar. The police bust in after everyone has left; Anderson does the absolute most to show off to everyone that he’s properly securing the scene, but he’s clearly relieved that Cassano slipped through their fingers once again oh my how does this keep happening oh well better luck next time. We get a proper introduction to Paula and Shi-won as members of the FBI who have come to investigate Laurent and his organization (Paula has changed into this beautifully tailored brown tweed pantsuit and she pulls it off so well), and Paula threatens to expose Anderson’s connections to Cassano if he doesn’t follow her lead.

After the scene in the factory, we return to the present in the interrogation room with Kitaoji and Edamura. Detectives bring Kitaoji additional files on Edamura, asking if the prosecutor has heard of the attorney Ozaki. They inform him that Edamura is Ozaki’s son, and Kitaoji is a bit shocked; he leaves, saying that he will review the files. The detectives collect the money before exiting the room, but not without getting in a dig at Edamura, telling him that he clearly takes after his father. Edamura is stricken by this statement, and the act ends with Edamura battling with this internal conflict.

I don’t think anyone would want to read all of this, but if you have, thank you so much. I hope some of it at least was interesting or informative. I’m going to end there for now, as I’ve already gone on for too long, and I’ll finish writing up the second act in another post.

#it's too long i'm sorry lmao #i have not edited this so sorry as well if there are mistakes #great pretender

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rina-writes · 4 years

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The Dress

A/N: The friend!reader consoling Ethan reminded me of this drabble I had in my drafts of Ethan comforting gf!reader when feeling insecure. Kinda short, but I think it’s cute :D

Warnings: Fluff, sexual references (at the end), insecure!reader

You chewed on your lower lip as you stood on line for the register. You picked up the velvet, green dress that was draped over your right arm with your left hand to pull it into view.

“Are you sure it looked good?” You asked your best friend who was standing next to you, sending a quick text.

“Yes!” She said, with a laugh. “100 times yes. I think it will look great for the red carpet.”

“It’s not really a red carpet.” You argued, your eyes still analyzing the dress. “It’s more of like a gala. Think the turn of the 20th century, where aristocrats would be invited to a new exhibit at the museum. Everyone would wear their best, strolling through the galleries with a glass of champagne in hand, occasionally nibbling on the hors d'oeuvres being passed around on delicate, silver trays.”

Your best friend paused and a little smirk formed on her lips. “Your boyfriend hired you to do the PR his event again?”

You laughed. “Is it that obvious it’s my idea?” You smiled to yourself.

The Dolan Twins were huge fans of “putting people on,” so to speak. If someone in their circle had a knack for something, they employed them to do it. It wasn’t only that Ethan trusted your creative direction, but he AND Grayson thought your ideas were a great fit for their event. Just like any other person who would organize an 100+ scale event, they paid you very well to do it. So, there was a lot of pressure to make this the best launch celebration ever.

To be honest, you knew you nailed it. You just couldn’t help, but feel like you didn’t fit your own event. You weren’t a big YouTuber or a celebrity or anything remotely famous. Your relationship with Ethan was on the DL, so you didn’t even feel pressure to keep up a certain image. Unlike the boys, you definitely had a “whenever I feel like it” work out regimen and a “whatever taste good” kind of diet. You did try to eat relatively healthy and at least move during the day, but it wasn’t enough to maintain a Instagram-worth physique.

Which brings us back to the dress in your hand that you were now about to purchase...for quite a bit of money. The dress fit the aesthetic of your event: an off the shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline that dipped down the center of your chest, with long sleeves that started at the top of your arm and ended at your wrist. The velvet material hugged your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and stopped just about your knees. The dress was classic, and one that you could wear again and again...if you had the confidence. Your best friend hyped you up in the dressing room, but you hated the way your stomach looked in it. But, your best friend looked so disappointed that you didn’t like it. Not because she particularly liked the dress, but because she knew your distaste for the dress was about your feelings towards you body.

“We’ll jack you up.” Your best friend said with a wink as you put the dress in the trunk. She had been watching quite a bit of “Say Yes to The Dress Atlanta” lately and often quoted Monty and Lori. “The party is tomorrow so, let’s continue our glam day where we just relax and pamper ourselves. Then tomorrow, I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Thanks, Y/F/N,” You smiled softly, getting into the passenger seat of her car and buckling your seat belt.

“Trust me, Ethan is going to love it.” Your best friend assured as she backed out of the parking spot.

But, what if I don’t.... You thought, but bit your tongue. You didn’t want to make a big deal about it anymore.

The night of the event, you were buzzing around like a bee. You loved the rush of making sure everything was going right, and the even bigger surge of energy when something was going wrong.

The setting was perfect. Each fragrance had it’s own gallery with a video clip on loop that showed the natural inspiration for the fragrance. There were testimonies from the twins about the fragrances written on plaques placed beside the display of the fragrance bottles. There were also several stations in the gallery to try the fragrance and pick up goodie bags.

You had successful ensured that all food was labeled for vegan, non-vegan, vegetarian, kosher, halal, and marked for allergies. You also did your best to inform the wait staff of who had specific dietary restrictions to know to go to them with the options they could eat first before opening it to the rest of the floor.

You had even ensured that the photographers got people when they came in through the door and let people know about the photo booth in the back.

This was going to be your event to top. Once people knew that you organized it, your office was going to be full with requests. But if there was anyone you wanted to impress, it was Ethan.

And he was. Ethan walked in, his hair styled neatly, his body clad in a black tailored suit with a white button down and a red tie. Grayson, also wore a similar tailored suit and a white button down, but he opted for a green tie. They intended to do the twin thing, and unintentionally did the Christmas color thing...but they could roll with it. When Ethan saw you, his jaw dropped. He had never seen you like this before. For one thing, everyone was running up to you with different issues. You kept a pleasant smile on your face as you calmed people down and told them what to do. You made it look easy. Then there was the dress...oof. It was like he was seeing your curves for the first time. He felt like he would need to holler at you all over again.

“Gray, quick, switch ties with me.” Ethan said, slapping his brother on the arm with the back of his hand.

“No, green is my favorite color.” Grayson said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m also not doing this in the middle of our event.”

“Green’s my favorite color now too.” Ethan said, gesturing to you talking to one of the wait staff.

The green velvet dress looked amazing on your complexion. You had taken the green elements into other parts of your outfit as well as part of your best friend’s “jacking up.” Your hair was decorated with faux emerald and cubic zirconia hair pieces (because this dress already cost you a fortune). You were wearing black pumps, but they had green bottoms that your friend helped you dye yourself. You were also wearing a mix of green and silver jewelry including dangling earrings and a bracelet. Ethan made a mental note to get you a watch for your birthday, one that could go with this dress and any other dress you decided to grace him with in the future.

“Oh wow...” Grayson said, trying not to oogle his brother’s girlfriend. “Okay, you win. Take my tie...”

Grayson removed his tie and Ethan did the same. If you had turned around and seen them, it would have been comical. It was like they were racing to see who could tie a tie the fastest and they were both losing. Finally, they both looked decent enough to mingle. Ethan walked straight towards you.

“Excuse me, miss?” Ethan said, licking his lips as he spoke to you.

You looked up from the table you were re-arranging and smiled softly. This was one of your favorite bits. When Ethan pretended to not know you and ask you out again. It was funny because Ethan was Mr. Slow and Steady when going into a relationship. He never just hollered at a girl, he always became her friend, got to know her and then finally asked her out. It made this all the more fun to act out.

“I just wanted to say that I think you are the most beautiful woman in the room.” Ethan rolled his hands and licked his lips flirtatiously. “And, if you don’t have a man, I’d be happy to apply for the position. If you do, I hope you don’t mind us doing this quietly.”

You laughed, and placed a hand on his chest. “Babe, stop.”

Your hand ran along his tie and you smiled. You loved how you two always unintentionally matched...completely unaware of how much effort Ethan put in to do it.

“Alright, I’ll control myself.” He hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek.

“Ethan...” You blushed. “People are staring.”

“They already were.” He leaned back and smiled at you. “Got to let them know you’re mine.”

Ethan gave your side a squeeze, resisting from giving your butt a little slap, before stepping back. “This event looks amazing, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you!” You exclaimed. “Your product lent itself to this design. I am even wearing one of your scents now.”

“I know...” He grinned. “...it’s one of my favorites because I made it with you in mind.”

You were about to say something cheesy when someone walked up to Ethan. He introduced them as someone from their management team. You waved, at them, and then paused, suddenly remembering what you were wearing. Your hands danced between covering your stomach and your chest, and you constantly looked at your reflection in one of the dark windows behind them. Your focus on your appearance made it hard to join the conversation. You answered most questions curtly and in a quiet voice.

When you interacted with the catering staff and your team, you weren’t nervous. They had seen you come into the office in sweatpants and coffee stains on your shirt on multiple occasions. You didn’t have to pretend for them. They knew you were good at your job and what you wore didn’t matter.

For Ethan’s colleagues, you felt more pressure. Although the public didn’t know about your relationship, most people in the twins’ circle knew he was dating someone. Eventually, someone would tell someone else that the girl in the green dress was Ethan’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t help, but worry about how that would reflect on Ethan.

Ethan was surprised to see you clam up like this. This wasn’t like you normally, and it definitely wasn’t like you a few moments earlier. At first he thought it was just because you were caught off guard. It wasn’t until the third person he introduced you to did he notice that something was up.

“Baby,” Ethan whispered in your ear as the person excused themself. “Come with me for a second.”

Ethan laced his fingers in yours and pulled you to the back of the galleria where there was a back room used to house the extra supplies like toilet paper and tools.

“Is everything okay?” Ethan asked, once he was sure you were both alone and the door was closed.

“Yeah!” You smiled, thinking he was the one worried. “Everyone loves the launch, Ethan! It’s going well.”

“Not the event,” Ethan said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you toward him. “I mean you. You’re not acting like yourself.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, putting your hands on his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

“You’re acting all shy and awkward.” He rested his forehead on yours. “You only do that when something is bothering you.”

“No I don’t.” You argued in a monotone voice.

The silence was awkward and bone chilling. Ethan just stared at you until you cracked.

“It’s the dress...” You admitted with a sigh. “I look like a whale.”

“Wait what?” Ethan asked, almost yelling.” Are you nuts? Y/N, baby, you look amazing. I’ve been planning to pull you in here and plow you in this dress. I am holding back everything inside of me right now...how could you say that?”

You blushed. “It’s my stomach.” You backed up so you could show him the outline of your stomach. Your hands then went to the neckline of the dress. “And this is cut in such a weird spot.”

“Your stomach looks fine, I didn’t even notice it. And your tits look amazing in that weird spot.” Ethan used air quotes when he said weird spot. His hands then immediately went to your lower back to pull you closer to him.

“I just don’t feel like this dress is right for me.” You sighed again.

“Why?” Ethan asked, running hands up your sides. “Because this dress looks so amazing on you, I almost don’t want to take it off. Almost...”

You smiled softly. “I dunno...it just doesn’t look right. Maybe I should work out or something....”

“I mean if you want.” Ethan kissed your forehead. “Or you can change what you see in your mind. Everyone here is impressed with you. They want to hear more about you and book you for their events. I’m sure they’d ask if you didn’t seem so...out of it.”

You seemed unsure so Ethan continued, “Hey, I’ve even heard compliments on your dress. I can’t change what you think of yourself, but I want to help you to love yourself the way I love you.”

“I love you too, E.” You sighed, “You really think it looks good?”

“Yes.” Ethan nodded so quickly you thought his head would roll off.

“Thank you.” You said, looking down at yourself. Suddenly, your stomach didn’t look that big and your boobs did look pretty nice. You realized, it wasn’t the dress. It was the whole being Ethan’s girlfriend thing that threw you off.

“I guess, I just felt like this was the kind of dress that someone like you would like to see your girlfriend in.” You said, still looking down.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Yes, hence why I like seeing you, my girlfriend, in this dress.”

“I know, it’s just sometimes I feel like there is Ethan Dolan’s girlfriend...this image i have in my head.” You paused. “And then there’s me. Which sometimes is a different image.”

“Well guess what...” Ethan kissed your cheek. “That image in my head is always you. So, whatever we have to do to match up the images in your head, I’m ready to do it together.”

“Aww, E...” You kissed him softly and he deepened the kiss.

His hands roamed from your shoulders to your backside, giving your body little squeezes. As the kiss got sloppier, you realized that Ethan wasn’t going to be satisfied by a little frenching.

“Quickie before we go back out?” You suggested, breaking the kiss.

You walked over to one of the shelves and put your hands on top of it. You turned so your butt was up and facing Ethan, one of his favorite positions.

“Yes ma’am,” He smirked, unbuckling his belt as he walked over.

“But make sure you don’t ruin my dress.” You said, looking back at him with a wink.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#holy candy canes #I went on wakeheart to research for this fic #I almost fell out my chair when the music hit me #reminds me of my old school tumblr when I used to have a music bar #at least people could pause it like damn #dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan blurb #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan scenario #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan x you #r-writes-fic

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that-fandom-pan · 4 years

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Obey Me OC Profile!

Finally decided to post something myself here! Here’s the profile of my Obey Me OC, Rulgrodath.

Name: Rulgrodath

AKA: Ru

Birthday: Jan 13th

Zodiac: Capricorn

Favourite colour/colour scheme: Black, green, blue and silver

Scent: Ocean – seaweed, sea salt.

Height: 5’3’’

Voice: Strong but pretty quiet most of the time, very sarcastic when she’s angry, ranges between alto and soprano tones because of her music career, if she’s talking and she wants someone to hear, they know about it. Her voice is loudest when she’s angry, but she tends to go very quiet beforehand, and speaks through gritted teeth before she blows up.

Eyes: Yellow with a slit, catlike pupil

Hair: Dark brown, reaches about ¾ down her back, has a slightly lopsided fringe parting

Body:

Demon form: One pair of large black feathered wings with an iridescent sheen of green and blue, two sets of horns, one curling down either side of her head and two sets of horns, one curling down the sides of her head, one sticking up, green and blue scales on her temples, jaw and neck, long black green and blue feathered tail, black feathers around her shoulders and neck, usually wears a set of black gloves with two sets of finger armour on the index and middle finger of her right hand, black leggings and tank top (occasionally a black dress).

Human(ish) form: very skinny, no horns or wings, still has the scales, wears the same finger armour as in her demon form but without the gloves, hoodies or fluffy jumpers and leggings or sweatpants depending on how she feels, and a necklace Levi bought for her at a Comic Con as a sign of friendship.

Obsessions/habits: Can have severe body issues at times as it reminds her of how she died, this is what most of her breakdowns are based on, very protective of people she cares about, can overthink a lot, if nervous she’ll either bite her lip or mess with her hands (e.g. tapping, wringing her hands, cracking her knuckles), if she’s wearing a necklace or jewellery she’ll mess with that or her hair, will absorb herself in music or games when she’s upset, can verbally and emotionally blow up if she’s pushed too far, is also pretty self conscious about her height as compared to most demons she is very small due to her originally being a human.

Sweet spot/Sensitive place: Top of her head and behind her ears - she will start purring like a cat, very ticklish, will punch or try to freeze whoever is tickling her unless they are very close (e.g. Mammon, Astro*, Hiris**).

Talents: Musician, very talented vocalist, good at comforting people when they're having bad days and cheering them up, not afraid to stand up for herself and other, can be quite terrifying at times, notices small details pretty often, can read body language and pick up on details of a person's attitude, personality and actions

Faults/sins: Envy and Pride, as those are what killed her, severe body issues, has a tendency of putting others above her own wellbeing, inner conflict of wanting to be perfect and knowing that is self destructive, a bit of a people pleaser,

Special skills/powers: Water magic, calming voice.

Music taste: Very wide, varies from jazz/swing to modern pop, film and game soundtracks to classical music, rock to musicals. The only kind of music she doesn't particularly like is reggae.

Personality: Kind, a little overprotective, a 'mum' friend to anyone she cares about, not afraid to speak her mind, will stand up for others, tough outside, soft inside.

Nicknames: RuRu (Mammon), Treasure (Mammon), Player 3 (Levi), Water Witch, Ice Queen/Ice Witch/Snow Witch, White Witch

Backstory key points: Grew up in a family of musicians, was heavily praised throughout her life, grew envious of other musicians she thought were better than her, which led to her practicing almost constantly with no breaks. Died of starvation, dehydration and exhaustion. Was reborn in the Devildom as a demon of Envy and Pride. Met Levi at a Comic Con - they literally ran into each other, Levi in Lord of Shadows cosplay, Ru in Female Henry cosplay on her way to perform on stage, they bonded after the performance. Stayed in contact online for a while before meeting up in cosplay a few times, then to hang out as friends. Levi eventually brought her back to HOL to play games, where she was introduced to his brothers.

Animal theme: Feathered dragon/bald eagle

Relations to other characters:

Lucifer: Heavy dislike because of how harsh he can be to his brothers, especially Mammon. Will tolerate him though. Will quote musicals and sometimes Shakespeare to casually insult him. Will only lash out if he says something that might hurt someone, as a reminder that maybe he shouldn’t be so tough on those around him.

Mammon: Love interest (ignore this if you don’t like OCs shipped with canon characters). Bonded after she first came home with Levi, she saw how, despite being talked down to by his brothers, he kept supporting them no matter what insults they threw at him. Very supportive of him and comforts him whenever she can.

Levi: Best friend (one of), was the first of the brothers she met, thinks he's funny and likes it when he starts rambling about things he likes, joins in at times, wants to help him with his insecurities.

Satan: Mutual respect for how much they both annoy Lucifer. Happy to talk about books and musicals with him. Tries to reassure him that he is not Lucifer 2.0

Asmo: Best friend (one of). Gossip, music and shopping buddies. Likes spending spa days together. Very supportive of her whenever she has a body image breakdown. Tries to calm her down when she's angry at Lucifer, but won't physically get in the way.

Beel: Friends, he makes sure she has food if she's going through one of her body image episodes (was told by Mammon and Asmo), tries to comfort him when he's worried about what's happening between his brothers. Will frequently bake things for him and his brothers.

Belphie: Like Satan, mutual respect for how much they annoy Lucifer. Happy to lie about and just chill with him.

MC: Mother figure. Very protective of them and will defend them from anyone who wishes them harm, including the brothers. Makes sure they're alright as much as she can. Has a pact with them so they can call her whenever they need her.

Diavolo: Respects him. Understands he has a lot going on so will give help when asked, but most of the time will leave him be. Very grateful towards him due to him helping her get settled in the Devildom when she arrived after her death.

Barbatos: A little afraid of him because of his time related abilities. Tries to keep on his good side as much as she can.

Simeon: A bit of a fan, since he's the author of TSL, one of her favourite series. Holds him in very high regards, very happy to talk with him. Has offered to collaborate with him if he needs music for future films/episodes.

Luke: Considers herself a bit of a mother figure to him. Looks after him when he's upset, happy to bake with him as much as he wants.

Solomon: A little skeptical of him, considering the 72 pacts he has with demons and his magical ability. One of the few people she struggles to read.

Astro*: Best friend (one of). Will team up with her to stand up to Lucifer. Protective of one another, will gladly cause chaos together.

Hiris**: Best friend (one of). A little jealous at times because she still has some family, but overall similar relationship as between Ru and Astro. Will gladly try to satisfy her curiosity and listens to her stories a lot.

Role: Student, vocalist and musician at multiple clubs

Family: None, doesn’t know what happened to her human parents or siblings after she died, barely remembers them at all.

Extra facts:

Will use her water magic both to help herself and others to calm down after a bad day and also to trap anyone she wants to 'talk' to - will freeze their legs and shoes to the ground so they can't move (usually Lucifer or people who decide to verbally or physically attack one of her friends)

Will buy Mammon or Levi something from Akuzon without them knowing whenever they've had a bad day to cheer them up

Will cause water based inconveniences targeted at Lucifer if she wants a more subtle way of annoying him after he's given someone (usually Mammon) a too severe punishment - e.g. burst pipe in his bathroom, frozen drink when he's starting to overstep his boundaries (even when she's not in the room, has a codeword with Mammon for him to send to her if he ever feels like Lucifer is talking down to him too much), bucket of water is accidentally knocked over and it spills on him, water goes cold when he's having a shower and will not reheat (Lucifer knows its her but has no way to prove it as she's never actually seen doing it unless she wants to be seen, only MC, Hiris and Astro know that Ru has the HOL pipe system memorized so she knows which pipe goes to which room)

Most presents she gives that haven't been bought on Akuzon are either made with her water magic or tickets to concerts she has managed to get through a few connections (the latter is usually for Levi)

Can and will come up with the most creative insults she can

Is an ace at rhythm games

Has sung duets with Asmo/accompanied Asmo on several instruments

Hates horror movies

Always carries two flasks: one of water so she always has access to something to use for her powers, and one of pineapple juice to help soothe her throat.

Has let Asmo style her several times for concerts - including the time with the suit and corset.

Loves swimming

Is bisexual

Ship facts (please disregard this if you don’t like OCs shipped with canon characters):

Often persuades Mammon to do shows/concerts with her as a way to make him feel better and to get back at his brothers

Mammon has persuaded her to do multiple modelling sessions with him.

Also uses the concerts she knows Mammon will be watching as a way to flirt with him - has worn a suit and corset with heeled boots to do this before.

Has kissed Mammon on stage multiple times.

Has Mammon saved as MonMon on her DDD

*Astro belongs to one of my friends (will update if I find them on Tumblr)

**Hiris belongs to @storypanda88

#obey me #oc #obey me shall we date #obeymeoc #rulgrodath #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #otome

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needsmoresleepwrites · 3 years

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Gift for Daiyanerd: Miyuki Kazuya. Always cool and collected. Has a great side profile. Good at baseball. Well, no, great is the correct word. (sofa’21)

Moratorium

Read on Ao3

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Miyuki Kazuya

Always cool and collected. Has a great side profile. Good at baseball. Well, no, great is the correct word. Even when he sometimes messes up some of the smaller plays. Reliable. Daring. Funny. Charming. Has probably had a dozen girlfriends, or maybe not. Nobody has been able to get any concrete answer on that one question, but he's definitely a lady's man, his fan club primarily consisting of girls and women that claim they would leave their current lives just to marry him if he so much as hinted interest. Or at least that's what many of the magazines, both sports and gossip ones say about him

Not to be too full of himself, but Kazuya thinks that much of what they say has some foundation. Yeah, people like Yoichi and Jun know better but he has to agree that his catching skills are unparalleled. He might also really like sending magazine covers with blown up images of his smiling (smirking) face to Yoichi just to get a scathing reply or an angry call. His only response is his lady killer (annoying) laugh

He knows he's always being watched by someone, but it completely slips his mind that anything could go wrong on that day

The headlines are brutal and he's gotten many messages and calls from his friends. He hasn't really answered because, well, he hasn't been able to. But he knows what they're saying. He's laying at the hospital with bandages covering most of his torso. He has a sense of deja vu, having been in a similar position when he'd been in high school, but this is much, much worse. Something happened and everyone is scrambling to find out what

Everyone except Rei, who has been detained. The tabloids are lapping this up like it's the sip of water they've finally been allowed after being stuck in a desert for months. Except that they're ruining the lives of the people Kazuya loves the most

He sees different news channels trying to get interviews from the few people that make up his friends. They want to know about Rei from high school. They've dug up her whole life's story and put it on full blast. They want to know about Kazuya, as if they haven't already told all there is to say, invented and created his whole career. They talk about how Rei pretty much scouted him from a very young age. The same women that claim they would do anything for Kazuya have turned razer sharp, claiming that "they knew it all along" and that Rei "had it coming"

They all twist the information for entertainment and Kazuya closes his eyes, disgusted at what they say about her.

There had been an accident. His car had been hit and he knows he needed surgery. Later they found out it was all a setup and he went from being one of the richest people and baseball players in Japan to having nothing. His career may as well be over. It will take too long for him to recover. Games won't wait.

Kazuya throws the remote in his hand and wants to tell them all its lies. He knows Rei would never do something like this. She's smart. It doesn't make sense. As much as Rei will follow a gut instinct, especially if it's about recruiting potential, it's always based on logic. There is no logic here.

His name flashes on multiple headlines and all he wants to scream is no, I didn't she say she stole my money!

The machines connected to his body have been beeping for a while now and finally, nurses and doctors run in. They try to get him to calm down but all he can do is repeat It wasn't her! It wasn't her! Rei would never! Tell them to stop!

Soon he feels drowsy and he realizes he's been sedated.

Before he closes his eyes he sees a picture of Rei next to the news anchor. Her hair is down, her eyes look haunted, but her posture is proud. She's not in her usual suit. Instead, she's wearing that dreaded green top, almost drowning her, making her pale skin paler. She doesn't look right. It's not the Rei he knows. The Rei he owes everything to.

He feels the tears burn his eyes.

----

TWO.

It takes a little over a year for things to "settle" down, but once the storm is over, everything is ruined.

Kazuya still manages to get his face blown up on magazine covers, but this time it's for a different reason. He's now considered a victim and he hates the images of him being wheeled out of the hospital. Of the tabloids somehow getting a shot of his bloodshot eyes, his pale skin, and his hunched shoulders. He wishes his attorney had allowed Kazuya to do something, but everything was too precarious, we have to be careful. Careful of what? He can no longer play baseball. He was already pushing the age of acceptability, only being allowed to continue contracts because he was so good, was still quick, was dedicated in mind, body, and soul to the game. But now he was injured, would be in rehab, and nobody knew if he'd still be able to move as great as before. Nobody would take that risk

Rei is finally released, but her life is ruined too. Hers is worse than Kazuya's will ever be. Not just because she's the supposed mastermind of the accident and subsequent disappearance of his capital, but because she's a woman. It's made him sick how she's been torn apart and left behind. She had already been forcefully (through great results) making her own space at the table. This was just the excuse to make her disappear. Nobody wanted a criminal as their associate. The label was tarnished and it would take time to rebuild their name. "Apologies" had been passed around, but nobody would take the risk of allowing her space again

Nobody thought to ask her side of the story, to reach out and help. She was alone. Nobody could legally take what she's rightfully earned, but they can pile fines upon fines. She is "free to go" but they have severely limited what she can do.

It only makes sense that she finally retires. Kazuya goes to see her with the Seidou team. He breaks when he finally sees what they've done to her, all in "his name", to "protect him". Rei is strong, logical, smart, but she can't help but allow herself to show a bit of emotion at that moment. She wipes away at Kazuya's face, "There's nothing left for me here and there's no use crying. The only way to go now is forward."

Chris recommends that Kazuya go to the same rehab facility he went to in America.

Kazuya doesn't want to leave. It feels like admitting defeat, like running away, like he's abandoning his friends.

Yoichi grits his teeth, tells Kazuya he wants to punch him for being so stupid, "But hitting an injured person isn't my style, even though it's YOU."

There is little progress on his health, both physical and mental, and then Yoichi, who has been singlehandedly taking care of him whenever he has a moment to spare, nearly begs him, "Kazuya, please. Go. Don't let this defeat you. I don't want to admit it but I miss seeing that stupidly smug look on your face. Remember what Rei said. You have to keep moving forward!"

He can't help but laugh one night when he can't sleep, Yoichi's words and his concerned face plaguing his mind. He can't believe he almost let this defeat him. He can't believe he was down enough to force his best friend to make such a face, to make him cry for his sake. He feels like he's let everyone down, especially Rei.

He calls Chris a few days later.

Before leaving, he logs into his Twitter account, which, like any other media source, he's been avoiding for the past year. Someone has obviously logged in and cleared his notifications and as his last stand, no first, because even now "they have to be careful", Kazuya quote RTs an article he hasn't even read, but he doesn't need to. He chooses it because it has one of those headlines. He presses send and logs out.

I NEVER said she stole my money.

----

THREE.

It's two years when he finally comes back to Japan. His rehab had ended months ago but there was a part of him that had been afraid to come back. He's sure Yoichi had sensed it, which is why he'd pretty much dragged him back.

He remembers the conversation they had. It had been really late in Japan, he's sure that Yoichi was on the verge of passing out, could hear every yawn he tried to hide, but he wouldn't let Kazuya hang up, "I'm not hanging up until you agree."

Kazuya sighs, "There's nothing for me to do out there anyway. Here, I've been helping at the hospital."

"But you don't even like that kind of stuff! I bet you're bored out of your mind," Yoichi countered, and Kazuya has to admit that he's not exactly wrong. He misses the excitement from the diamond, feeling the burn on his thighs as he squats behind the batter, signaling different plays to his catchers, the feel of the ball as it lands perfectly in his gloved palm, the roar of the crowd as they once more strikeout another enemy batter. But he can't have any of that. This year Kazuya turns 30 and he has become stiff. He can't move as dexterously as before.

He hears some shuffling on the other end, as if Yoichi is changing positions on his bed, "Look. Not many people know this but...this is actually my last year playing."

Kazuya freezes at that. He knows Yoichi is still keeping up with his own records, has won his team countless matches for his boldness, knows they would never want to let him go. He briefly fears that maybe an injury is involved but shakes his head. No, Yoichi would tell him if that's the case, so then, "Why?"

"That's why I called and I need you to come back," there's another pause, not long, "I'm getting married."

Kazuya blanks out for a moment and then stops what he's doing altogether (he turns off the stove, he'd been making breakfast but this is more important. Besides, he had almost been done), "Married? Did you kidnap some poor girl? I haven't even heard of you dating."

"KAZUYA," he hears Yoichi yell, "I didn't kidnap anyone! And that's because my PR team has been making sure to keep things tightly sealed, and I guess we also haven't been able to see each other much too." That last part is mumbled but Kazuya catches it anyway.

Kazuya hums, still disbelieving, but only slightly. He knows Yoichi wouldn't kid about something like this so if he says he's getting married, he's getting married, "Congratulations then. Not sure how someone found you husband material, but they do say there's a type for everyone. How'd you meet her?"

"You are such a dick," Yoichi hisses, "How are we still even friends?"

Kazuya sometimes wonders the same thing. Yoichi has been with him at his best and worst and has never given up on him. He laughs, "My great personality?"

Yoichi snorts right before laughing, "Yeah right. Anyway, so I met this guy-"

"A husband?" Kazuya cuts him off, genuinely curious, but also can't help but tease, "You hid it so well with all those magazines. I'm sure nobody suspected. No wonder your team is doing such a great job at hiding this."

Yoichi yells into the phone, "Let me finish asshole! No! It's not a guy, her name is Wakana! And she's the childhood friend of this guy I met!"

Kazuya makes a tsk noise, "Yoichi, did you steal her from this guy? Are you a homewrecker?"

Instead of getting mad, Yoichi snorts, "As if. Can you believe Wakana was actually in love with Sawamoron for years and he didn't realize."

Kazuya adds, "So you seduced her?" before Yoichi can continue with the story.

"No? I mean, I'm not sure," but they both know that Yoichi probably couldn't seduce anyone even if he tried. Charmed, yes, but outright seduce? And a girl he liked? Very unlikely, "But she'd been tired of waiting and so I met her after she'd confessed and he rejected her."

"Hmm," Kazuya interrupts again, "So you took advantage when she was down. That makes more sense. She was probably so down about being rejected she would have said yes to anyone. Sadly that someone was you."

Yoichi is flabbergasted, "Take advantage?! MIYUKI, that's not- I'd never - just let me finish!"

Kazuya laughs, "Ok, ok. So how did you meet her? I won't interrupt again."

Just like that, Yoichi calms down and Kazuya notes the happiness in his voice as he laughs, not at Kazuya, but at something, the memory perhaps, and Kazuya is slightly jealous. He's not sure at what or who.

"So this kid, Sawamura, we were going to meet up at the park. He had something to tell me, but then I see him running after this girl, yelling about money or something. So I cut her off-"

Kazuya can't help but laugh, "Y-Yoichi, did you, did you attack the poor girl?"

"Didn't you say you weren't going to interrupt?!" Yoichi screeches, but he starts laughing a bit too, "And no, I didn't attack her but, well..."

There's a groan on the other end and Kazuya can imagine his best friend blushing to the tips of his ears, "I pulled her by the arm and she was surprised, but then she did something and next thing I know I'm on the ground, looking up at her and Sawamura is laughing like he's seen the most hilarious thing ever!"

He wonders if that kid was laughing as hard as he is now. He feels the tears tickling his eyes, his cheeks hurt, and he feels the force of his laugh pulling on his stomach, "I already like the girl. What happened next?"

Yoichi lets him laugh but his voice is annoyed, not at him he notes, but at what happens next, "So Sawamoron comes up finally and he knows the girl and I'm confused and just got thrown to the ground by a girl that doesn't even reach my chin, and I ask him why he was yelling about a thief, because that's what he was doing."

More shifting on Yoichi's end, "And you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He goes "I never said she stole my money!" so I knock him over the head because yeah, he's right, he was YELLING IT. Everyone in the goddamn park heard it! Made him buy me dinner and everything."

Kazuya feels a lump in his throat but pushes it aside, he turns the stove on again to finish preparing his breakfast, "I guess for Wakana I can go back. When's the wedding? And will I be your best man?"

----

FOUR.

Kazuya hasn't even been home a month when Yoichi walks into his apartment with their old Seidou team. Everyone seems to be there, even the first years like Ryo's little brother and Furuya. There really isn't anything Kazuya can do but move aside so that everyone can come inside. At the end of the group, right after the first years enter, he spots someone he doesn't know. A kid with unruly brown hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin who looks slightly nervous. His posture is too stiff but he's also looking around curiously.

Yoichi notices Kazuya looking at him and comes over for introductions. He pulls the kid into a side hug, "Kazuya, this is Sawamura, Wakana's friend."

Kazuya looks him over. He's heard a few things about him from Yoichi, "So this is Sawamoron?" he teases. He can't help the lift of his lips as the kid splutters in indignation.

A high pitched, "Kuramochi-senpai! You can't call me that anymore, we're practically family now!"

Yoichi howls, slapping the kid on the back, "You're always going to be a moron Sawamura, hyahaha!"

Sawamura grits his teeth for a second before standing up straight, stretching out his hand towards Kazuya, "Good afternoon, It's a pleasure to meet you! My name is Sawamura Eijun! Thank you for inviting me!!"

Kazuya looks at the outstretched hand for a moment before he doubles over laughing. Sawamura let's out another unidentified sound before yelling, "That's so rude Miyuki Kazuya!!" but he hasn't dropped his arm.

Kazuya takes a breath, isn't surprised he knows his name (briefly wonders if he knows who he is), right before taking that tanned hand into his own. Sawamura's hold is firm, if a bit sweaty, nerves probably, "Well, as you so clearly let my neighbors know, my name is Miyuki Kazuya." He pauses, "And I didn't invite you."

Sawamura pales slightly, looks over to Yoichi who just makes a rude noise, "Really Kazuya? You have to be a dick right off the bat?"

Kazuya only smiles brightly, finally letting go of the kid's hand, looks around his house, and says, "Actually, I didn't invite any of you over. Why are you all here?"

The others have already settled into his kitchen and, he peers through the doorway, there are bottles of coke and beer and the smell of oily pizza in the air. Jun has already made himself at home on his couch, a paper plate with a pizza on it. He's halfway into that slice and Kazuya doesn't know why Jun didn't just take an extra slice or two with him before settling down. Ryo and Haruichi are putting things in his fridge. He realizes now how empty his fridge must have been. He had been meaning to go grocery shopping but he supposes he hadn't had the energy to go. Kanemaru is clearing up some of the boxes he had yet to unbox, reading the labels Chris had helped him write, and arranging them accordingly.

He knows that many of these guys are still part of the leagues, wonders how they managed to take a moment to raid his home (notices a few faces are missing, like Yuki but he would have been REALLY surprised if they'd managed to get him to come over). He remembers how they'd made it a routine to visit him when they were at Seidou, knowing he could get lost in strategizing and numbers quickly. He feels a penetrating gaze and turns to see the new kid watching him intently. Kazuya can't help the grin that grows on his face and it's finally starting to feel like home.

He motions the two in, "Well, you may as well come in. Everyone is already inside. Feel free to raid my fridge and make a mess in my new kitchen."

Yoichi laughs, pulling Sawamura inside with him. The kid still looks slightly off-balance, but he sits next to the first years like he belongs and he wonders why this picture looks so right.

Yoichi dives in for the last slice of pepperoni pizza just as Sawamura is about to reach for it and then loudly exclaims, "Hey Kazuya, wanna hear something funny?"

Kazuya has already grabbed his own plate and he wonders how he missed all of these pizza boxes when they first came inside. He grabs one with sausage and mushroom, "Hm?"

"So while we were getting the pizza, we sent Sawamura to go get the drinks, right?"

Sawamura, who had just taken a drink from his can of soda, instantly spits it out and Kazuya is both intrigued and disgusted as he sees the drink mixed with spit cover his table, "Kuramochi-senpai, don't!"

He sees Kanemaru chuckling and Jun roars from the living room. Apparently, there were many witnesses to this apparently funny story. Haruichi pats Sawamura's back softly while the kid's face glows red. Kazuya is momentarily worried he might faint but then curiosity wins out, "Oh?"

Yoichi and he share a look, "Get this, we all gave him our share, right? So he goes in and comes back all mad, saying we didn't give him the right amount, but then, but then," It seems the rest of it is too funny for Yoichi to continue because he starts laughing and he notices Sawamura cover his face. He mumbles something but Kazuya doesn't catch it.

Ryo helps him out. He's also amused, a smirk on his face, "The girl stole his change."

Sawamura uncovers his face and yells, "I never said she stole my money!"

There's a moment of silence before...

Jun. He'd come back into the kitchen to get more pizza, "Who else could it have been? Had to be the girl at the counter, or did you just give up your money?"

Kuramochi, "Easy prey, how you're even a teacher is beyond me."

Kanemaru, "Wait. So it wasn't the cashier?"

Even Kazuya can't help but ask, laughter tickling his words, "Emphasis on "she"?"

Sawamura seems to realize his error and covers his face again. He's mumbling again but instead of being annoyed by the bad habit, Kazuya thinks it's almost cute.

"Haruichi?" Ryo questions and Sawamura uncovers his face to yell, "Onii-san! That's not fair! Haruichi you can't tell, you promised!"

Haruichi is looking back and forth between them, "Well..."

Then Furuya explains all, "He was flirting with the delivery guy."

It somehow gets even louder inside his house and Kazuya can't believe he thought of not returning. It's true that his baseball career is over, but this is where his family is at. This is where his life is truly at. He laughs until the tears in his eyes fall.

They spend hours getting him up to speed on gossip.

----

FIVE.

Even though he's only known Sawamura for a few days, maybe weeks, he's the one that keeps Kazuya company the most. And there's a big reason for that named Kuramochi Yoichi. Even though, or perhaps because, it's nearing the end of his contract, Yoichi gets busier. There are some rumors as to why he's finally leaving baseball, but just like he'd told Kazuya, everything is still under wraps. There are no incriminating photos and no face to put to those rumors jealous girls spread online. Kazuya wonders how things will turn out once Yoichi fesses up but until then, Sawamura becomes his shadow

One, he's not bound to such a strenuous schedule (Yoichi told him Sawamura is the grade school teacher at one of the local schools not far from Kazuya's new place. His new house is conveniently placed so close because it will soon be Kazuya's new workplace and they just happen to be on break now), and second...well, Kazuya's not sure. Yoichi didn't want to tell him. Not exactly

He remembers the last time he actually met up with his best friend.

Yoichi had invited him over for dinner and Sawamura had come up somehow (Kazuya comes to realize that Sawamura comes up in their lives very often). Yoichi had been contemplative. They'd just finished watching a movie and were just sitting there in the dark, the credits rolling.

"You know. If Sawamura had actually been interested in Wakana...I don't think I'd have ever had a chance with her. There's just something about him...he's so..." Yoichi makes vague hand movements, "you know?"

Kazuya laughs and wonders if this is what best men have to deal with with their to-be grooms. Jitters, he's heard them called, but he was sure this feeling was supposed to happen days before the wedding, not so far ahead when there wasn't even a date finalized, "Already second-guessing the married life?"

Yoichi doesn't even take the bait. He just sighs and leans back on the couch, "No, I'm serious. There's just something about Sawamura, he's so honest and hardworking. I can see why Wakana liked him."

"Careful, or I might start to think you actually want to marry Sawamura instead."

Yoichi kicks him halfheartedly, "Dumbass."

Their feet are still touching and Yoichi nudges him, "He's a good kid you know."

Kazuya leans out to grab his drink from the low table, takes a sip, "He does seem like it. Although he's a bit..." He tries to find the right word. Dense? Airheaded? No..."innocent?"

Yoichi laughs, "Yes! The stories I could tell you."

It gets quiet and Kazuya enjoys it. It's been years since the two of them have done something like this.

Yoichi breaks the silence again, "You know...Rei actually tried scouting him."

Kazuya takes another swig of his drink, deep, and tries to wash away the feelings of guilt. He hasn't spoken to Rei since the incident. Hasn't really asked about her although he knows she's ok, thanks to Chris

But he's curious now. If Rei had been interested in him then he was undoubtedly good talent, "What happened?"

Yoichi scoffs, "The idiot turned her down! Said he didn't need any fancy schools to play baseball."

Kazuya can't help the snort he lets out into his drink. He hasn't known Sawamura long but he can somehow imagine the face he'd make, how loud he would yell that statement with conviction, "Too bad." He's sure Sawamura could have been someone if he'd come to Seidou and he somehow feels cheated of something

"What position?"

"Pitcher, a southpaw, nasty throw," Yoichi grips his cup tightly. He looks over at him, "He's not a professional but he does still play."

It's a subtle nudge that Kazuya ignores.

Which is probably why he finds Sawamura so often on his doorstep.

Today he's managed to wrangle Kazuya out of his house, but only because it's work-related. The summer heat isn't terrible today so the two decide to walk and even though it's not that far, Kazuya finds himself lightly perspiring. Perhaps he's let himself go more than he thought, and he begins planning a timetable to get his fitness in a better state. Meanwhile, Sawamura is all smiles

"Hurry up Miyuki Kazuya!" He's already at the side door, opening it with his staff key, and Kazuya wonders if they should even be here. There are hardly any cars parked outside and the school is obviously void of children. Classes don't start until next week

"You don't have to call me by my full name," Kazuya tells him as he enters the building. Sawamura slides past him after closing the door, making sure it locks properly, "You can call me Miyuki-senpai."

"What?!" Sawamura's voice echoes in the hallway, "Why should I call you that?!"

"Because you're younger," he pats Sawamura's head and grins, "And smaller."

He slaps his hand away, a blush on his face, "I'm not small! And you're not even that much taller!!"

He stands closer to Kazuya and points at the few centimeters difference between them. Kazuya pushes him back, "Miyuki-senpai."

Sawamura just rolls his eyes and continues walking, "You really do have a terrible personality Miyuki Kazuya!"

Kazuya just laughs, "Thanks!"

"Not a compliment!" Sawamura yells and then points to the rooms in the hall they're in, "I'm usually here with the kids. Since the school isn't that big you'll probably get kids as young as eight and as old as thirteen in your class too, since you're the only gym teacher until Kuramochi-senpai gets married."

Kazuya nods, "Ok, Sawamura...sensei."

Kazuya notes how easy it is to rile up Sawamura. How his face will quickly turn red and his lips will form pouts or grimaces, his body reacting so honestly so quickly. Now he brings up his hands to cover his ears as he yells, "Don't call me that!!"

"Then stop calling me by my full name, it's weird."

"MIYUKI KA-"

Kazuya somehow manages to raise his voice enough to speak over Sawamura, "So Sawamura-sensei, where do the kids go out to play? Sensei?"

Sawamura looks like he's about to burst and goes off yelling. Miyuki follows him, laughing, their voices echoing in tandem

They end up outside behind the school somewhere. Even though it's small, Kazuya is impressed by how well maintained it is. There is a small playground to the side, which has been recently repainted, signs marking the walls and tape clearly discouraging anyone from touching. The mats at the bottom look worn but not in bad shape. Then there is a track that circles what looks like enough field to be a neighborhood. Most of it is empty and Sawamura's talking about how sometimes the kids will go out there and play soccer or volleyball or really whatever sports they need that requires a lot of space. The only place that looks like it truly has a defined purpose is the baseball field.

He feels excited and scared at the same time, wants to run to home plate, to feel the dirt path against his feet, crouch, and take in the view. But he also thinks this is a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have accepted the job. He knows why they want him, why they're willing to wait a year for Yoichi to come and teach. He's not sure if he can take the pressure

"Miyuki-senpai," he turns to Sawamura, who is pouting.

He's not sure why he feels himself calm down, perhaps it's because he'll take any distraction, even if it's loud Sawamura, or maybe it's because Sawamura looks ridiculous with his cheeks puffed out and his eyebrows scrunched up between his eyes. Kazuya smiles. It hurts a bit to do so, "Is this all just for the little gremlins? Lucky them, I didn't have something so big at my disposal when I was at school."

Sawamura suddenly inflates as he grins, "Yeah me neither! I'm from the countryside from a school even smaller than this! Wakana and I had to go to the other side of town with our friends if we wanted to play baseball. That's sort of what it's like here too. We share with some of the other schools and really anyone is welcome to come here as long as the kids aren't out playing."

"Wakana, huh," Kazuya notes. He hasn't actually met the bride-to-be yet, "Is she in the habit of taking people's money?"

Sawamura looks confused and perhaps a bit upset, "What?"

Kazuya only smirks, "I heard how Yoichi met her."

Understanding fills his eyes and he groans, "I keep telling Kuramochi-senpai not to tell that story! It's all lies! Lies! Come on, let's go to the gym, your to-be base."

They head back inside and Kazuya feels the smile that spreads on his face is lighter, amused. It's relaxing being with Sawamura, "So what, she wasn't stealing your money?"

"No!" Sawamura defends, "I never said she stole my money! It was all a misunderstanding!!"

"So what? She was just borrowing it?" Kazuya pushes and can't help but laugh as Sawamura goes red.

"I-It, my, NO! She just grabbed my wallet!! But she wasn't stealing it!"

----

SIX.

Kazuya hasn't been teaching for long when it's time to prepare for Sports Day and he forgets how tiring it can be. Sawamura is ecstatic the whole week leading up to the moment all the kids are let loose to run and play, and he's not sure how the flow of energy works, who feeds off who, but everyone seems to be ready to burst with enthusiasm by then. Kazuya feels like he's the only one who is burnt out. He's not usually used to so much happening, at least not like this

The school asks him to give an encouraging speech before the event begins, which Sawamura jealously admits had been his job the last two years, but he grins all the same. He encourages him to do his best, just like he does to the children and Kazuya isn't sure if he should be offended or glad when he feels the flat of Sawamura's palm on his back.

By then, Yoichi has finally wrapped things up with his team. He still has a few more interviews scheduled, but he's essentially removed himself (as much as he can) from the public eye. He's announced he's going to get married and has been asked many times about his to-be wife, but just like Kazuya, everyone is kept in the dark. On the few nights Yoichi manages to call him, to check up on him, Kazuya teases that maybe this is the most elaborate plan he's ever seen, that maybe this Wakana girl doesn't even exist

Yoichi just laughs, "What? Is The Great Miyuki Kazuya actually curious?"

Kazuya scoffs, "Of course not, and don't call me that. I can't get Sawamura to stop, I don't want you doing the same. It's so weird."

They talk until they're both ready to pass out but Yoichi tells him he'll be there and that he'll bring Wakana too. There's something strange with the way he says this but it's late, they've both been up for too long, and Kazuya doesn't remember the unease the next day

He doesn't remember until Sports Day, right before it happens.

It's usually a big event with parents and friends and the neighborhood coming by to see all their children perform at their best. This school is slightly different because of its size. It isn't just their kids (as Sawamura likes to say and Kazuya, reluctantly, has started to call his students), but a few students from two or three of the neighboring smaller schools. He's never seen the field so packed with kids. There are also a lot of cameras and flashing and suddenly Kazuya feels uncomfortably warm. This year it's not only locals that are here. He can see various news channels documenting the event and there are probably other labels walking around, trying to figure out what the next scoop will be. Or perhaps they've already been hinting at it but Kazuya has been avoiding all the gossip. He briefly wonders if they're here for him and while this might be slightly true, he's sure they're more likely to be here to catch a glimpse of Yoichi and Wakana

He decides to stick with Sawamura for most of the day.

Sawamura seems to be oblivious to all the attention, focusing on the kids, high-fiving everyone who is going to race, yelling encouragements as they pass him by, and yelling out happily as the kids make the baskets and reach the finish lines. Kazuya tries to show his support as well and Sawamura drags him from one event to the next. The parents love him as much as the children do. He briefly wonders if Sawamura will have any voice left for the next day

It's around the time the kids finally get their break for lunch (and that Sawamura pulls him over to an empty patch of grass so that they can finally rest as well, how Kazuya was able to crouch for hours on end before is almost a mystery to him now, he really HAS let himself go) that he starts to hear them

"I didn't say she stole MY money. Did you really not know?" "Is she REALLY here? "The NERVE of her." "We should tell the principal to kick her out. Where is she?"

Everything starts to go quiet as Kazuya looks around. There are too many people around, but he manages to find her by the fence behind the diamond. She's looking right at him and Kazuya feels himself stop breathing for a moment. He isn't sure what he was expecting but she looks exactly like she did three years ago, except somehow better. Her hair is up in her typical bun, she's wearing a pink button-up with her trademark pencil skirt. There's a small coat hanging off her arm, which is the only sign he has that she plans to stay for the whole of the day's events.

He gets up, ignores Sawamura's confused, "Miyuki-senpai?" and goes to meet her.

He remembers how Yoichi had sounded over the phone the other day and realizes that when he said her, he hadn't meant Wakana, he had meant Rei. She's smiling at him and once they're close enough, she says, "Miyuki Kazuya, it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Rei," he all but whispers and he notices people are looking, the cameras are pointing in their direction and he smiles. He's so happy and relieved to see her. He wonders why he hadn't tried contacting her before, where the guilt and fear have gone. He thanks Yoichi, will thank him later as well, for always doing things like this for him, I'm the worst friend, aren't I? He can already see Yoichi's annoyed face as he threatens to punch him if he says anything so stupid again. He laughs, "It's been way too long. I'm sorry."

He finally has the chance to really apologize for everything, to offer his support, to ask how she's been doing, and he marvels at how Seidou is truly a family. His old teammates haven't just been trying to get him to move forward, they have also been helping Rei regain a semblance of her old life.

When they part, it turns into a game. They both know how things will go so they are bold, they grin, and take each other's hands in a firm shake.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you on the field in the future." It's not a question.

"Of course." It's a promise.

At the end of the day, Sawamura and he are the last to leave the school since Sawamura offered to stay and clean up (and with him Kazuya). The sun is already on the verge of setting and Kazuya can't wait to take a bath and then crawl into bed. He doesn't want to wake up until a week from now.

As they're walking home (or really walking to his house because even now, he's never really asked where Sawamura lives, he imagines not far), Kazuya notices how quiet Sawamura is. He bumps his side with his shoulder, "Lost your voice with all that yelling?"

Sawamura looks over at him and shakes his head. Kazuya is momentarily mesmerized by this side of Sawamura. Quiet, almost shy. He's not pouting or angry, his features calm, slightly sharp on his handsome face. The remaining rays of the sun make his eyes look slightly gold and Kazuya wonders why he's suddenly noticing these things, "What's wrong then?"

The temperature had dropped enough that they were now comfortably wearing jerseys. Sawamura mumbles into the collar of his jersey and Kazuya is annoyed, but only slightly. It's that bad habit of Sawamura's and he wonders if he could tease those mumbled words out of him, is about to do that when Sawamura stops walking, closes his eyes, and yells out, "Do you like Miss Rei?!"

Kazuya is left speechless. At least that answers his other teasing question. Sawamura is as loud as always, "What?"

Sawamura opens his eyes, he's blushing and he can't seem to look him in the eye, "Well, there were those rumors...and then today...I mean, she's really pretty and just..." He goes quiet.

There's a lot here he wants to clear up, but he figures he should start with Sawamura's question, "No. At least, not really."

There's a question in those golden-brown eyes and Kazuya continues to explain, "I'm sure everyone on the baseball team liked her at one point. We were all teenagers and she's a really attractive woman, but that's it. Rei...she scouted me, believed that I could go far, pushed me, pretty much built my whole career. She's not really like my mom, not really an older sister...but yeah, like family."

They're both surprised by how honest he's been, which leads him to his own question, "Rumors? So you knew who I was. Is that why you called me by my full name?"

Sawamura looks embarrassed, "Yeah. I, I was curious about Seidou. I bet Kuramochi-senpai already told you about Rei and her coming to scout me?"

Kazuya nods.

They start walking again, "Well, I started seeing your name come up a lot. I always had trouble with my own catchers, I wasn't very good, sometimes my throws would go wild. I guess. I mean, they felt right, but Wakana, she was my main catcher, it was hard for her to catch them. Anyway, I started following your career. And just, well, then that happened and the rumors..."

They're quiet for a moment. Kazuya thinking back to how Yoichi had called Sawamura's pitch a nasty throw, the way Rei had pointed out Sawamura's staring while they talked and how Kazuya should catch for him, "When I saw him pitch, I knew you two would make a great battery. I knew you would be what could push him to greater heights, and that he would influence you too. All of Seidou. He has the heart of an Ace."

He's curious.

"Do you regret it?"

It's been a few minutes but Sawamura follows his question, turns to him, conviction in his burning eyes, "Never!"

----

SEVEN.

Kazuya finally gets to meet Wakana on his birthday. Yoichi tells him they're going out to celebrate at a fancy restaurant and he's not allowed to say no. Since he is the best man at their future wedding, he supposes it would be rude to not meet the bride-to-be so he pulls out one of his old suits, is relieved it still fits, and decides that's enough effort needed on his part. He also decides to forgo the tie and leaves the first two buttons undone. It's classy.

He's not surprised to see Sawamura also at the restaurant, and he's also not surprised to see him sporting a loud outfit. He's also wearing a suit but his shirt is a bright blue with baseball patterns, he's pulled up the suit jacket sleeves to his elbows (which, might he add, does not match his pants, but it somehow works), and he's actually wearing a tie. There's a girl trying to tame his hair but she soon gives up when Sawamura spots him and calls out, "Miyuki Kazu-mmyaa."

"Eijun!" the girl chides him, "We told you to be quiet!"

She's covering his mouth and let's go once he settles down. He rubs his hand through the back of his hair, ruining whatever work the girl must have done, "Sorry."

The girl shakes her head and turns to him, "So you're the famous Miyuki Kazuya, in the flesh."

Kazuya smiles, "And you must be the infamous money stealing Wakana."

They shake hands and Wakana laughs, "The one and only."

Yoichi comes up behind him, "Good, you're here. I thought I was going to have to send someone to drag you out of bed."

They're escorted to the back where they can dine in private. Yoichi walks in the back with him and Kazuya watches the way Sawamura's body faces Wakana even when they're walking. The way she pushes and holds his arm, laughs at what he says. The way that Sawamura lets her choose where she wants to sit and then makes space so that the table decorations aren't in her way. He sits across from her.

Yoichi whispers at him, "See what I mean?"

Kazuya doesn't need to see them interact to know why Wakana once liked Sawamura, but it definitely solidifies their closeness.

Wakana is very pretty. She has short hair that is slightly tinged with red, natural, she mentions when she sees him looking at her, "I get asked a lot." Apparently, it's a color she inherited from her great grandmother

She's as small as Yoichi claimed her to be, which makes her look tiny with her current company. She's wearing a simple and modest blue dress that matches perfectly with the ties Sawamura and Yoichi are wearing. She's just as honest as Sawamura is, and Kazuya wonders if all the people in his life are like that. It's refreshing. He instantly likes her and knows that Yoichi will be happy. It makes him happy too.

They're waiting on their food when Sawamura tells Yoichi that "Miyuki Kazuya" called Wakana a thief. Yoichi puts down his glass of wine, sending his best friend a glare, "I should have known you wouldn't behave!"

Sawamura is quick to respond, "It's all your fault Kuramochi-senpai! You keep telling that stupid story!!"

"The only thing stupid about that story is YOU Bakamura!!"

They look like children snapping at each other across the table and Wakana is just laughing. She turns to Kazuya, "Did he tell you what actually happened?"

Kazuya nods, "Sort of. Something about borrowing a wallet."

Wakana smiles, "Something like that, yes."

"See! I told you I never said she stole my money!!" Sawamura gets up suddenly but nobody notices the waiter coming with trays until the sound of plates falling to the ground and shattering are heard. But the worst part is probably the cake that Sawamura tries to save. Part of it lands on his hands, some of it on the table, but a big portion of it (thanks to Sawamura's interference), is now all over Wakana's dress. Everyone holds their breath, the waiter looks horrified.

Kazuya knows he shouldn't but he snickers and that seems to bring everything back to life. Wakana laughs and tells the waiter it's ok, she pats his hand reassuringly, "But can we get another cake? We'll pay for both of course."

The man is so relieved, he smiles and nods, and says he'll be right back to clean up, that he can also ask someone to help her out. Sawamura looks constipated and ridiculous standing there with chunks of cake in his hands.

"This is so coming out of your wallet Sawamoron!!" Yoichi cries out as he grabs chunks of cake from Wakana's lap and throws it on the table, "And YOU, I can't believe you did that!"

Kazuya only smirks, looks over at Wakana, and says, "Welcome to the family."

It seems like Wakana isn't just depleting Sawamura's accounts, but also stealing hearts.

----

OMAKE (months later)

It's the wedding night when Sawamura decides to crash at Kazuya's house. They're both exhausted and since they're both going to the same place the next morning, Kazuya doesn't make a fuss. When they make it home, they fight about who will take a shower first and Kazuya wins because, ultimately, this is his house so of course he has dibs. Sawamura pouts as he heads to the living room, ok, ok, just go you evil tanuki bastard.

When Kazuya comes out in a white t-shirt and boxers, he finds Sawamura already passed out on the couch, his arm and leg fallen off the side. He notices that he at least had the sense to take off his suit jacket and shirt. He's only wearing his undershirt and his pants have risen up his shins. Everything else is thrown against the back of the couch and his keys, cellphone, camera, and wallet, are all on the table. He's snoring lightly, his breath coming out more like little sighs, and there's a bit of drool where gravity has decided to do its job.

He's about to wake up Sawamura when he remembers something Wakana told him the first time they met. Right before they left the restaurant, she had pulled him aside, telling the other two NOT to come closer, Next time you get the chance, look inside his wallet. I promise it'll be worth it, and don't worry, he won't mind. He yells a lot but that's all there is.

The wallet is right there and Kazuya wishes it had landed the other way. At least like that, it wouldn't feel like he was snooping. No, he wouldn't. He doesn't really understand why Wakana wants him to look inside, but it's not really any of his business. He shakes his head and walks towards the couch. Before he can even reach forward, Sawamura shifts and mumbles a sleepy, "Kazuya."

Kazuya freezes at the stupid smile on Sawamura's face. He feels his face heat up and he's not sure why. He briefly glances at the wallet again, then moves to shake Sawamura's shoulders.

It takes a moment, a testament to how tired Sawamura is, before his brown eyes open and he sleepily mumbles, "Miyuki Kazuya?"

Kazuya hesitates for a moment. He doesn't have extra bedding and he knows sleeping on the couch is uncomfortable. They were going to share the bed, just like he always does whenever Yoichi visits, but suddenly he wonders if maybe this isn't a good idea. He tells Sawamura it's his turn to shower and nearly drags him to the bathroom. He stands outside just to make sure he doesn't pass out inside and somehow Sawamura looks even more drowsy than before. His skin is red from the heat of the water and they head to the bedroom.

Sawamura is out before his head hits the pillow. Kazuya arranges him on the bed properly and covers him with the blanket.

He finds it hard to sleep, the sound of his name coming from Sawamura's sleepy lips echoing in his head.

---

A/N:

I scoured Reddit for some inspiration and found this interesting prompt: "I never said she stole my money has 7 different meanings based on which word is emphasized." I sort of followed the prompt? LOL

things to note: 1. I just googled "prisoner clothes in japan" and green outfits came up, hence why Rei is dressed in a "green top" 2. I don't actually know how legal proceedings go in japan, if it would take longer or less (but this is fanfic so let's not question it) 3. Again, I don't know how long rehabs take but I'm not aiming for accuracy 4. If it wasn't obvious, Sawamura wasn't in the original Seidou team in this fic (lol) 5. Sports day apparently apparently happens around October (and again, Idk much about it)

I don't think I've ever written anything "complete" for this fandom but I hope you all enjoyed, especially you daiyanerd ^^

p.s. This got out of hand omg it's so long and hardly anything happens i hope you guys don't mind Orz Also, I kind of want to write more for this, maybe Sawamura's side of some of the events, maybe just a continuation, idk....

#misawa #daiya #daiya no ace #ace of diamond #future fic #modern day au #angst and healing #sawamura is best medicine #friendship #kazuya and kuramochi #humor #I write ff #gifts and exchanges #sofatropefestbingo2021 #seasons of anime trope fest bingo 2021 #seasons of anime gift exchange 2021 #fanfiction #First Meetings

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

Watching the starlings as autumn draws in

Summary: Tommy and his friends try on some skirts, and he reflects a bit on how they all got here. (It's a happy story) Title from September by Sparky Deathcap

Pairings: None! Platonic everyone (esp in irl fics_)

Read on AO3 (preferred place to read)

Word count: 2570

Warnings: None, except for surface-level references to the exile/prison arcs, but not much.

Other notes: I wrote this in a fit of madness last night in like three hours at 2 am, so i’ll probably edit it honestly but for now, enjoy! (If the CC’s ever display discomfort with this type of fic I will take it down)

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"WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM, BOYS!" Tommy exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he starts rapid-fire answering questions about the stream, and the stream title from chat. It's funny, how over time, Tommy's come to see Chat as this one entity- an old friend. The nervousness of answering questions as a fifteen year old with nothing but a big personality, a twitch account and a copy of Minecraft is all but gone now, nineteen years old and happier than he's ever been.

Dreadfulzombie19: what are u doin this stream

"THANK YOU FOR ASKING, Dreadfulzombie19, today is gonna be a bit different, innit Tubbo?" Tommy raises his voice a bit at the end of his sentence, just loud enough for one of his flatmates to hear him. When Tubbo yells back an affirmative, Tommy turns back to his setup. Chat's gone a bit wild again, even though he, Tubbo and Ranboo have been living together for over a year now.

"Okay, okay, calm down chat- so recently I was at university, as usual right? And I had an eight AM class again, and… yeah I can see you all can relate."

"BUT! BUT! On my way back to the flat, I saw something really cool." Tommy hesitates in his speech to take a sip of coke again- his blood pressure's been acting up lately and watches Chat to wild again, asking him what he saw.

"Okay, so there was a shop- new place, which doesn't happen often this is fucking Brighton- and they sold skirts and dresses and stuff with adjustments for AMAB sizes!" Chat goes a bit bonkers, but Tommy's mod team- a little smaller than it used to be, now that he isn't the centre of YouTube or Twitch attention anymore, none of them are- are handling it, and pretty well.

"So I had to go, right? As many of you probably know, last year, I made the astounding discovery that gender-based stereotypes and expectations are, in fact, fake and I should not give a SHIT. And so I go in and look through the stuff- it's a really poggers shop by the way, and I find the perfect thing- it was the most poggers skirts and shit, okay? So, today's stream is going to have me wearing this pogchamp shit and wearing it right, with the help of…" Tommy ends his monologue by picking up the joke shaker-things that Phil had gotten him as a housewarming gift last year and indicates for his first two helpers to enter the office.

In walks his mother, face obscured from view as always, waving to the camera, and Wilbur, also wearing one of his only skirts for this occasion. Eret had taught him, on a phonecall in the skirt shop that week about the different types of skirts with a handy diagram. Wilbur's was a pleated circle skirt, brown to offset the bright yellow of his sweater and beanie, the same colour as his hair. It's very swoosh-y, so he's wearing black leggings with his regular shoes too. Motherinnit's also wearing her favourite skirt, a baby blue prairie skirt, Tommy thinks, and it's one he's seen fairly often.

Wilbur ducks down in order to show his face to Chat, and ruffles Tommy's hair while he's at it. Tommy's taller, but not by much, so Wilbur still fucking makes short jokes, That fucker.

Chat is now going so fast that he simply cannot read anything but some of the all caps messages and can barely make out some of the emotes.

"Okay, OKAY, CALM DOWN CHAT! WE HAVE TO GET TO FUCKING BUSINESS!" Tommy yells into the mix, like he did when he was sixteen and used the 'many people find me annoying at first' intro. Nowadays he just lets the content speak for itself. Anyone who wants to be here already is, by now.

Wilbur laughs a bit, and that hasn't changed at all. "Tommy, how is chat supposed to calm down if you're not calm?"

"I am their god!! They will obey via sheer digital willpower!" Tommy replies back, pretty zealously (What? An English Literature class is mandatory for his film degree, and The Great Gatsby by Zelda Fitzgerald is a good book, as are most of the other assigned ones. He's had entire conversations with Techno with just lit quotes and it drives everyone insane. Tommy loves it.) Chat seemingly has listened to his godlike abilities, with a few OG's spotting his half-quotation of one of Dream's last lines in the Dream SMP. The rest are spamming 'MOTHERINNIT'.

"If having a shitty magic trick book from a washed-up politician makes you a god, then what does that make me?" Wilbur replies, with one of Foolish's lines and swatting his hand at Tommy. Tommy swats back.

"Bitch" "Arsehole" "Shithead" "Fuckface" Wilbur finishes cheerily, as if this happens all the time. It does. Chat's used their antics now, four years of consistently making content together will do that for you.

Eventually Motherinnit reminds them both to get back on Topic, and Tommy goes back to facing the camera, addressing Chat directly.

"Today, my beloved mother, and my idiot brother-" "hey!" "And maybe my flatmates will be joining me to show off some cool as SHIT skirts! And a dress or two. We all have our selections, right?" Everyone nods in affirmative, even Tubbo and Ranboo. Though the camera can't see them. Ranboo's just come home from his final class, then. He should probably take the first hour back off, and judging by how Tubbo is forcefully judging Ranboo to the shower, he probably gets it. Tommy signs an affirmative to both of them, and gets back to the camera, where Wilbur's showing off all of his (very poggers) very stupid brown or yellow skirts. Tommy's are in cool colours, for fuck's sake.

"Oh yeah, Puffy just confirmed she'll be on stream! She'll be here in about twenty minutes, accounting for fucking traffic, and Niki' going to get onto VC after her own stream, what game is it this time?"

"GRIS." Wilbur answers.

"Poggers- she is the SHIT and will join us soon! So expect some QUALITY QUALITY content this stream!! Remember to not spam her chat to finish faster." Exclaims Tommy, even if it ends up as a light warning, as he picks up his own very poggers skirts from the extra armchair in his office to show the camera.

One is the classic red and white, mostly white but with bright red on the waist (elastic) and the bottom, and it reached to about Tommy's knee, if worn at the hip. It had no pleats, but the red bits were a very nice velvet texture, and while the skirt was heavy, it still had very much swoosh value, and pockets!! Big ones!! He slips the skirt on top of his jeans before entering camera view, the skirt visible in all its classic Tommyinnit glory, as he takes his place right next to Wilbur, who just took. a quick spin at the behest of several dono's., Skirt spying out from his lower shins all the way to his knee, making visible one of his (many) petticoats. ("What? It's cold all the fucking time here, Toms.") Tommy also makes a quick little spin, skirt flying outward, not upward, so it looks like he's hula hooping for a moment there. Lastly, Motherinnit spins around too, and while her skirts do not swoosh, she looks opulent, like she was about to go to waltz with the enemy, for whom she has a dagger in the back of her dress for. (He finished Anna Karenina and the Six of Crows duology within the same week and has not yet recovered. Jack Edwards is laughing at him as he thinks in his English Lit Graduate glory.)

It's fun, trying on different skirts- he and Wilbur accidentally bought the same dress at one point, which they paired up to wear, darting off into their respective changing rooms while giggling like idiots with their checkered blouses and the grindl skirts that Niki had sent over when she heard of this stream idea, laughing the whole time. Tubbo enters as dramatically as possible with Puffy, and while Tubbo looks really fucking good in his handkerchief skirt with embroidered bees and plain white shirt, it's Puffy who steals the show with an exact, real life version of her red banquet dress.

Fans from way back in the SMP, before Tommy had started branching out start going insane and are bringing back emotes Tommy wasn't sure were still available, but she is fucking stunning- deep shades of red and crimson, with slits on either side of her waist and all the detailing. She'd gotten the contact for her dressmaker through Bernadette Banner, Tommy recalls- she was so fucking cool when she streamed with him once, and gotten him to swear less and supplant those world's with bigger ones to intimidate instead. While he still curses like a sailor as part of his persona, it's less so and he does way less in real life these days, unless the situation calls for it. It's also just rude, especially in uni libraries, where he spends too much time these days wondering why he didn't read more as a kid.

Puffy's stolen his audience for a WHILE, and Niki coming on hasn't helped any, so Tommy exits camera view for a while to hug Ranboo really quickly- he's had midterms and has basically been dying all month.

Everyone on this stream- Tommy, Wilbur, Motherinnit, Tubbo, Puffy, Niki and Ranboo enter the camera frame after entering their dressing rooms for the last time on this particular stream, Puffy with full in-character wigs and makeup, Tommy in an Edwardian-Gothic reminiscent black and red dress, Ranboo in something he bought when he gap-yeared in Japan, punk lolita or something, Niki flaunting her pink in a Marie Antoinette style show of finery, Tubbo dressing in all green this time, something like a very deranged biology teacher who hasn't slept in days (Tubbo hasn't-Tommy has to get into that), Wilbur like a forest-nymph, all earthy tones and swishy fabrics and nature highlights, and finally Motherinnit, who hasn't changed but is here to take pictures as they all lean in together to fit into frame, as drastic as their height difference is. Niki is going to be edited in later, and everyone on the 'Dream SMP but nobody does Dream SMP and we're all fucking nerds' discord server is going to get a copy.

The stream wraps up there, after about two hours, and it's only about six in the evening- a far cry from the late nights and long hours from the beginning of Tommy's career, so everyone runs to their changing areas for the last time, into pajamas now, and packs away all of the clothes they wore, properly, as to not incense Karolina Zebrowska, and Jemma, Dan's wife, who would look at them disappointedly and nobody wants a sad Jemma because that means no cooing at their son. Also it just feels shitty.

Everyone huddles in Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo's living room, and they out on UP for like, the millionth fucking time (they still cry when Ellie dies), and Tommy is leaning into Wilbur's side and feeling his mum play with the hair in his very small, stubby ponytail he's developed by being in Uni as he and Tubbo intertwine their legs together and Ranboo rests his head in the tangle of limbs, playing with his fidget cube. Puffy stays on Wilbur's side, intently texting someone and smiling the whole while, and Tommy takes a moment to reflect (something he's been getting better at doing) on how the actual hell they all got here.

The Dream SMP was always going to end- everyone knew it, if course, they were the fucking writers. But by the time they did, not only were their respective brands too closely intertwined to just… sever that quickly, but they'd become too close to even want to. So the SMP discord never shut, even though Dream and George had planned it months ago, and they continued supporting each other with their interests. Wilbur made a lot more music solo, with his band and even just random ass streams where he practiced guitar for an hour. He kept playing Minecraft, but it wasn't his main focus. A bunch of people left. More stayed. YouTube left him alone.

Dream, George and Sapnap are still Minecraft streamers, but their YouTube channels are mostly blogs of them being poor excuses of adults with other former SMP members joining in sometimes. Tommy and the Dream Team were closer than ever, even though the seeds of their friendship had been sowed when they used to linger after heavy streams together, reassuring each other that none of that was true and that nothing like… that would happen in real life, because Dream had used real abuse tactics, and those still hurt unless immediately taken care of. So they were. It was a running joke that Dream was stuck at 99 million subscribers since nobody really wanted the face reveal anymore. The other Dream team members were doing peachy.

Phil and Techno were also still primarily Minecraft streamers, but they also released things like advice videos and mental health stuff, especially for relationships. They had a new scripted series where Tommy was a minor character. The dadza jokes were still as real, and yes, outside of streaming, both of them were lovely people and responsible adults (mostly). They collaborated with DanTDM and co a lot more now.

Puffy and Niki kept doing games, but did lots of different ones, testing point and clickers to triple A titles, and making it all fucking hilarious while they were at it.

So where had that left Tommy?

After the Dream SMP, he'd kind of had no idea what to do, and he was going to University for the first time, so he just… did whatever he thought would be fun. He learned about vintage fashion from the queens themselves- Mina Le, Bernadette Banner and Karolina Zebrowska and had fun learning how to sew for the first time, fixing and making his own clothes for the first time, clunky as they were, Wilbur had cried, genuinely, when he saw the Lovejoy shirts that Tommy had made for the band. He'd found a genuine love for literature in university, so Tommy started talking to booktubers and studytubers like Jack Edwards and Noelle Stevenson. Tubbo and Ranboo had joined him, fucking around in any YouTube niche they found even remotely interesting. Eventually, they all found a happy medium- a bit of everything.

Some people obviously weren't happy with that but Tommy was happy as he was, making what he liked with his best friend's, living together close enough to most of their friends (family) to have fun and drop in on one another at ass-o-clock in the morning to comfort, to laugh. His sub count hasn't gone up in a while- most of his audience is static, with about 80-90k online on a stream at any time.p

It was a nice feeling, to have carved out a space for himself and the people he loves, and be is so, so glad that he got this chance.

Looking at his mostly asleep family, Tommy thinks 'yeah. Life is good.' as the last thought before he sleeps.

#dream smp #mcyt #irl fic #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbo #nihachu #ranboo #vee's writing #2021

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its-bound-to-get-loud · 4 years

Text

Why I believe 5SOS didn’t work as a pop-punk band (+ my opinion on THAT Rolling Stone article)

This title of this post may be an unpopular opinion for a lot of you. But I don’t believe 5SOS worked as a pop-punk band. In this post I will explain exactly why. I hope that even if you don’t agree, you will at least understand my POV. This post is probably gonna have a lot of text. Not a lot of links, videos or pictures involved. I hope it will still be interesting for you. All of this is just my personal opinion, I have no way of proving that this is 100% true. It’s just a careful deduction of things I’ve seen and thought about over the last few months, mixed with some personal opinions. With this post I’m trying to tackle some topics that are being talked about often and showing them in a different light. I’ve put quite a lot of time into writing this, so I’m hoping you will appreciate it. Finally a huge, massive thank you to my friend R for proofreading this, it means a lot to me.

To start things off, I’ve had quite a lot of thoughts about this topic: I don’t think 5SOS truly worked as a pop-punk band. The image didn’t fit them and it wasn’t right for their era. It was a fun sound, I enjoy listening to it, they probably even enjoyed making it. Obviously fans enjoyed it as well. I fully believe that when they first started, pop-punk is what the guys wanted to sound like. It’s the music they listened to, those were the bands they looked up to. When they got signed they had not been a band for a super long time, they were young and barely had any experience in both life and music. I’m not someone with an extensive knowledge of pop-punk groups, but from what I know a lot of these bands were misfits, outcasts. People who didn’t feel like they had a place in society. In some cases from broken homes, with bad childhoods, etc. That’s who they were and it’s what their music was about.

I’d say 5SOS as whole do fit those characteristics. They were from a small town where music wasn’t really a career for most people. So they felt the need to get out of their town and pursue music. Michael dropped out of school for music, Ashton obviously had a very difficult home situation. Calum has mentioned that his family didn’t have a lot of money when he was younger. I’m not sure how the situation was for the others. But besides this, everyone but Ashton came from a stable home, Calum’s parents separated later on. So I can see why the guys related to these pop punk bands put out songs about this. Especially when you’re a teenager you often feel misunderstood by everyone else.

But when 5SOS started they looked more like a boyband than a pop punk band. Their earliest songs were mostly love songs. While the boys might have felt like being a pop punk band, and maybe even considered themselves to be one, I would say they were more of a pop/pop rock band.

In some cases a label can mold an artist or band into a certain image upon signing. But 5SOS had already gathered a following before they were even signed, so molding them into a rougher pop-punk image right upon signing would not have worked, it would not have been organic. They probably didn’t want to alienate the fans they already had, because they were valuable in getting the word out about 5SOS.

Their first manager, Adam Wilkinson, didn’t seem to think 5SOS would work as a pop-punk band as well. Just look at these quotes taken from That infamous 2015 Rolling Stone article (I will not link it, because I despise it, just google if you feel the need to read it).

“While they cannot cross into the realm of pop punk, they can stand on the sidelines and capture the end of that market.”

“They always wanted to be Blink 182 or Good Charlotte, but I’ll be the first to admit I thought that was shooting too far,” says Wilkinson. “We tried to make them a little more pop.”

That last quote is basically what happened. 5SOS ended up connected to One Direction, a huge pop act at the time. A connection that wasn’t as much of a “coincidence” as they wanted to make it look like. Louis was never the one to truly discover 5SOS, this was simply a smart PR decision to connect 5SOS to the 1D fanbase and grow their audience. I highly suggest reading this post that lays out exactly how 5SOS came to get signed and how their connection to 1D began. You will see that there is clear evidence that it didn’t happen like they wanted us to believe.

And let’s be real. Take a look at this early 5SOS picture. Does this look like the next Green Day or All Time Low? They all look like the boy next door, with maybe the exception of Michael. Basically they had the looks of a boyband, and while they never have been a traditional boyband (and certainly aren’t now), they certainly were marketed as one early on. This is a label that still sticks to them to this day.

I fully believe that their team (management/record label) tried to slowly evolve them into a more pop-punk image as they got bigger. They couldn’t ride the 1D train forever and had to stand on their own 2 feet. That’s where we arrive at the Sounds Good Feels Good era. This is a fascinating era for me, because there is a shift. Their looks start changing, suddenly they slowly become rockstars, piercings start happening. The boys are growing up. They are old enough to drink, girls are in the picture, etc. Musically it’s also clear that their sound is changing. The self-titled album is still fairly pop-rock, 1D but a little edgier perhaps. Sounds Good Feels Good is the more pop-punk album. But is it really? Because as most fans will know, the album knows 2 sounds. It has the clear pop-punk bops, such as Money or Safety Pin (to name a few), but there’s also some songs that already predict the sound for Youngblood such as, for example, Waste The Night and Vapor. It’s clear to me that while they probably still enjoyed their pop-punk sound the guys were growing up and were slowly discovering what music their sound as a band should be.

If we’re being honest for a moment. What songs from SGFG really feel the most personal? Sure, She’s Kinda Hot is a bop, but what about Vapor? Vapor is by far my favorite song on the album, it tells me a story, it makes me feel emotion. Now I’m very biased towards SKH, because (unpopular opinion) I don’t like the song much because of the lyrics. But that’s a different story (we may get to that someday). There is nothing wrong with a song that’s a bop, you need those. I could enjoy SKH if it wasn’t for the lyrics. But bops can have meaning too. SKH doesn’t in my opinion. Besides the fact that the guys were growing up and maturing their sound, the music scene just wasn’t very pop-punk or even rock based anymore. It wasn’t a sound that was popular anymore.

I took a look at the billboard charts and pulled some statistics. Friday October 23 was the release date for SGFG. The Top 3 Billboard hot 100 songs that week were

The Weeknd – The Hills

Drake – Hotline Bling

Justin Bieber – What Do You Mean?

The songs/artists closest to 5SOS in sound in the WHOLE Billboard Hot 100 that week were One Direction – Drag Me Down, Fall Out Boy – Uma Thurman and Twenty One Pilots – Stressed Out. That’s 3 songs in a list of 100 songs and you can debate how close the sound of those actually was to the sound of 5SOS at the time.

Taking a look at the Billboard 200 Year-End chart, the #1 is Taylor Swift – 1989. SGFG ended up at #136 (keep in mind that the album was released in October, so close to the end of the year). 5SOS self-titled ended up at #73. The LIVESOS album ranked #176. There’s a few other records that can be considered rock in the list, but barely any pop-punk in the whole chart. The only one to be considered for that title would be Fall Out Boy’s – American Beauty/American Psycho album, which was #15.

Pop-punk or rock in general, wasn’t a popular sound that topped the charts around the time 5SOS got started as a mainstream act. Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 the week 5SOS released their first ep (Unplugged) was Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. The real mainstream success of pop-punk was mostly in the late 90’s running all the way through the early 2000’s. This is why I wonder why the label tried to make them into a pop-punk band in the first place. My best guess is that their team relied on the fans to push the success of the band forward after they came off of 1D’s Where We Are tour. They might have tried to create an edgier version of 1D with similar success. Where you create a fan base that is big enough to support the band without the need of casual listeners or fans from different demographics (male, female, old, young, etc.).

I think they relied too much on 1D fans to gravitate towards 5SOS as well, which may have been a mistake. Not all 1D fans actually liked 5SOS, some even actively stayed away from them the more they were pushed under their noses. When I entered the 1D fandom in 2014 most things I saw about 5SOS were negative. 1D fans considered them problematic and didn’t like them. This is partially why I steered away from 5SOS at the time. Besides that, I had enough going on with 1D to keep me occupied. Of course 5SOS’s fan base still grew quite a bit from the 1D exposure, but they never got to the same heights as 1D did. In several interviews the guys have said that they were being called “the biggest band that nobody has ever heard of”.

On a more personal note. As a recent fan, the whole pop-punk image never felt very genuine to me. Which might be because I came into the fandom backwards, starting with CALM and going back to their older material after that (side note: I did listen to the Youngblood album once or twice before). Don’t get me wrong, I love SGFG, I play it regularly. Money is a banger, Hey Everybody!, a bop, Permanent Vacation, love it! But as a fan I like to identify with songs and recognize that the artist is telling something that is personal to them. I don’t get that feeling from some of these songs.

An example of a song that is emotional, yet (mostly) not personal to the band is Broken Home. It’s a beautiful song, but I generally skip it. 1, because it’s a very sad song and it’s not always something I’m in the mood for. 2, because it’s not a song I relate to on a personal level. And most importantly 3, I don’t see the song relating to 5SOS as people, other than maybe Ashton. An interesting quote about the song, made by their producer John Feldman, is on the genius page for this song.

“Other than Ashton, the three guys have parents who are still together. Ashton has never met his father. Ashton really connected into the theme. “We’re saying something with this song, it’s going to connect with the audience, at least 50% of our audience comes from broken homes. We’re actually taking a stand.” The other guys are loyal and family-driven and sweet, so they were like, “What are our parents going to think about us singing about a broken home when we don’t come from broken homes? How authentic is it?” It was a two-month debate.”

So the guys themselves were already questioning the authenticity of the topic when they were recording it. Ashton connected to the theme of the song, but the others didn’t. It wasn’t something they had experienced. It doesn’t say why the song made it on the album anyway. As stated in the quote, a lot fans can relate to it. I’m sure many fans found comfort in the song, which is a nice thing. The song doesn’t make you relate to the band though. If any of them had written this song from a personal experience it would have connected a lot differently. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing that the song is not personal, it just doesn’t feel very genuine when you know the artist has no relation to the story they are telling.

Moving on to the 2015 Rolling Stone article I have mentioned before. This seems to cause some division among fans. Was it all true or was it made up? My opinion is that it’s a mixture of truth and BS. But a whole lot of it feels taken out context or exaggerated. I have been a fan since March, so I wasn’t around at the time this came out. But since becoming a fan I have watched tons of interviews and clips and have extensively discussed this band with my friend, so I’d like to say I have done my homework and have a good picture of this band. On top of that I’d like to think being a 1D fan sharpened my critical thinking skills and might have helped me see through certain bullshit. I don’t claim to be the person with all the answers, but maybe my thoughts make sense to some people. There might be some context that I’m missing or facts that I haven’t come across, if you feel like there’s a piece of information I’m missing, feel free to let me know.

The way the article starts, it reads like fanfiction. Literally. The extensive description of the surroundings, the time of day, everything. The first time I read it, it made me cringe so hard I had trouble getting through the whole thing. First things first. This interview takes place the day after the AMA’s. Who the fuck scheduled this? Either someone should have prevented them from getting drunk and partying, or they should have scheduled this on another day when these guys were in a better state of mind. That is, assuming things went the way they went as described in the article. Which is something I highly doubt.

The only direct source saying that this article is not genuine is this tweet from Luke. Besides that I have only read secondhand that the band and people surrounding them have spoken up about the inaccuracy of the article.

Some people believe 5SOS could have sued Rolling Stone for slander if this article was really as false as they claim. Now I’m no lawyer, but this is not how things work in the entertainment industry. An article like this has been agreed upon before. The interviewer didn’t just decide to drop by one day. During celebrity interviews there’s always someone from their management or PR team around to make sure they don’t say any stupid shit. Celebrities are a brand, they have an image to protect, albums to sell. If they say things that make them look bad it can cause damage to their good name. Record companies have invested money in artists and they want to see a profit in return. They don’t want to risk losing money, that’s why celebrities have PR teams. RS may have had a reputation for being a very honorable publication, but these days that’s not the case. They are not that far removed from cheap gossip rags such as the Sun or The Daily Mail nowadays. They still get read by a lot of people, which puts them in a position of power. Often when an interview takes place there are certain topics that have been agreed upon before, there are also topics that can be blacklisted if the artist or their team doesn’t want them talked about. For example relationships or family matters. These will also be agreed upon beforehand.

Here is a story about a former journalist for the British tabloid The Daily Star, who has admitted to making up stories and explains how they get away with it.

For arguments sake, let’s say the guys slipped up and showed their “true colors”. With a big publication like this it’s common that their team would have to approve the article before it comes out. If there’s anything in there that was not agreed upon that they don’t like, the article can be edited.

This leaves us a few possibilities.

The article is completely true and their team is shit at their job. They failed to prevent the boys from slipping up about stuff they shouldn’t and did nothing to stop Rolling Stone from publishing.

The article is true and their team just allowed the article to be published for whatever reason.

The article isn’t true, but their team let it happen anyway, possibly because they wanted to move the band away from their boyband image into a more punk-rock image that went with their sound.

My vote goes out to the last one. I think their team wanted to make the boys look more edgy/punk-rock and get rid of their boyband image and this is how they tried to do it. I think parts of the article may be true, but a lot of it is greatly exaggerated and in some cases made up. If my theory is true, it also means 5SOS or their team had no reason to sue Rolling Stone if they wanted to. Because it would mean you have a major publication on your bad side, which means no more future promotional opportunities for the band and/or the label. While Rolling Stone may be trash, it’s a publication that a lot of people read. Therefore it’s a very important connection that you don’t want on your bad side.

If you still think they could have sued Rolling Stone then take a look at some examples from 1D. 1D has been targeted by the British tabloid The Sun for YEARS. They wrote the most awful shit, a lot of it not true. Yet they still had exclusive scoops whenever something important happened. Exclusive meaning, these topics were given to them exclusively for publishing. It was proven that their PR manager is friends with the journalist from The Sun responsible for most of the stuff written. 1D never sued The Sun for those articles, because they most likely were agreed upon by their team beforehand. 1D has never tried suing the Sun over anything, despite what they wrote. This was not 1 article, these were many articles. Especially towards the end of 1D, when it was clear their label was losing 1D, there was a smear campaign in the media to discredit 1D and its members. There was a chance some members were going to sign with a competing label, and that’s something their label didn’t like. Here is a good collection of headlines from that smear campaign. Nobody ever got sued over these articles.

Do you still think 5SOS could have just stood up and sued Rolling Stone? The entertainment business is full of politics. If you don’t play the game you’re out. Also, question yourself. Why does Luke still say the article was twisted and inaccurate 4,5 years later? He has owned up and apologized for past mistakes, yet he keeps insisting the article didn’t tell the truth. He even goes to say that the article “broke and hurt him”. If you believe Luke is still covering his ass for what he said in that article, that essentially would he mean he is emotionally manipulating people by saying the article hurt him. Is that the person you think Luke is?

1 more thing I want to point out. Yes, I am aware of the fact that Calum has a large version of the magazine cover hanging around in his house. I can’t say exactly why. This is my best guess. That cover was still a big thing in their career, despite the article, it is still a Rolling Stone cover. That’s a milestone that not every artist gets to do in their career. Just because he has the cover hanging around doesn’t mean he enjoyed the article that came with it.

This whole post has gotten super long, it may not be the easiest thing to get through. So thank you if you made it till the end. As stated before, this whole thing is mostly just my opinion. But the parts about how PR teams work are a fact. I do not work in the music or entertainment industry, I’m not a lawyer, so I may have gotten some things wrong. If I did, please let me know and I will try to fix it. Feedback is always appreciated.

#5 Seconds Of Summer #Ashton Irwin #Calum Hood #Luke Hemmings #Michael Clifford #5SOS #musical direction #pop-punk #Sounds Good Feels Good #Rolling Stone #original

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

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The Tumblr Beta Version: an objective analysis

I was tempted to just type “it sucks.” And while that is an objective analysis, it’s not exactly helpful. I’ve sent several requests to @staff and @support to restore my account to the old tumblr dashboard format, and received the same automated reply twice now. I’ll copy/paste it here so everyone is on the same page:

(lol, I had to go back and edit this, because apparently the beta version doesn’t display block quotes on the dash. So I’ve also put the block quotes in italics... hopefully it’ll display properly... note after editing: nope, it doesn’t display italics either... how the heck am I supposed to differentiate quoted text? I’ll start each quoted bit with an asterisk, I guess...)

*Thanks for reaching out about the beta dashboard.

*We're currently testing it out, and your account seems to have been selected to take part in the test. Thanks for your patience while we work on it! At this time there is not a way to opt out of testing. You may see your Tumblr experience return to normal as we continue testing.

WE CAN ONLY HOPE.

*In the meantime, check out some of the new features available only in the beta dashboard:

OKAY TUMBLR, IF YOU INSIST, though I would MUCH rather have back all the functionality I personally invested into this website through xkit... you know... making the site ACTUALLY FUNCTIONAL. Let’s see what this beta version has given me instead of functionality:

*Change Palettes: Go to the person icon, then click "Change Palette." You'll find the classic Tumblr blue, dark mode, and a few other color palettes for your dash.

So I tried out all the color palettes. In addition to the ones mentioned here, there’s one that’s trying to look like a green screen terminal that gives me flashbacks to the early 80′s. There’s a reason we stopped using green screen terminals... Another one is “canary yellow.” It’s very yellow. The “classic tumblr” isn’t actually classic tumblr... all the post boxes are dark blue with grey type, not white with black type. And all the other colors are the insanely bright fluorescent of the new Dark Blue standard tumblr scheme. Which means links are practically invisible unless I highlight them. It’s migraine inducing. The one theme with a light colored background is called “Concrete” or “Cement” or something like that and even that only works for about half an hour before the migraine aura really kicks in. I just want my Old Blue via xkit back. You know, what tumblr actually used to look like. I don’t want any of these horrible color palettes. None of them work for me.

*The new "meatballs" menu: This is where you can copy the post link, unfollow the Tumblr who made or reblogged the post, or report a violation to our Community Guidelines.

I could do all of this from the user menus with xkit, too. I don’t regularly report violations or have the urge to block people I have chosen to follow. Why on earth would I want to do any of this? And why would I want these features located directly beside the post link copy feature?

You know what I do miss? I miss the xkit timestamps feature. I didn’t have to hover dangerously close to the KILL IT WITH FIRE meatballs menu in order to see when a post was made, and in this era of disinformation and misinformation spreading around this site faster than Covid-19, being able to see when a post was ORIGINALLY created is a far more useful feature than an easier way to block people. For reference: I currently have three blogs blocked. Two of them are pornbots. One is a nazi. If I don’t want someone’s content on my dash, I don’t follow them. This “feature” is entirely useless to me.

*A quick note: Pagination is not supported in this beta test, but we're collecting feedback to send to our engineers.

THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST. This beta test might actually be tolerable if I wasn’t trapped into endless scrolling. If I could page through my dash, refreshing it every ten posts or so. You know why? Because once I scroll about 30 posts down my dash, tumblr starts overheating my laptop under the load of ALL THOSE POSTS. Things start malfunctioning-- it takes longer and longer to load new posts the farther I scroll. And the keyboard navigation (both page down and hitting J to advance to the next post, and even just using the down arrow to scroll as I read a long post) freeze and stop functioning. One of my laptop fans has actually begun to malfunction.

You know why this wasn’t a problem on the old version? If the data load got to heavy, I could open a post in a new tab, click view on dash with xkit, and voila! Brand new tab! I could close the malfunctioning tab and everything would be refreshed to normal! But without pagination, THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE.

Also, after reblogging a few posts, the beta version of this site breaks, and doesn’t open a post tab to add commentary or even tags. It just... reblogs the untagged post with no warning whatsoever. You know... that’s really really not cool. I tag EVERYTHING. Well, almost everything. The tags are the only way to keep track of the 40k+ posts on my blog. And warn people that I am posting potential spoilers, or other specific content. It’s REALLY inconvenient to have to either immediately go to my blog to edit the post and add tags, or even comments. The alternative is to scroll up to open individual posts I want to reblog in a new tab, and then reblog directly there. Ironically enough, THOSE pages actually open with xkit installed, and everything (surprise!) functions perfectly there.

It’s perfectly reasonable to understand why this specific issue has limited the number of posts I reblog. Reblogging content should not be this much of a hassle. Creators have been complaining for a while that reblogs have drastically slowed down, and I think making it even more annoying and difficult to reblog posts will not help this problem.

Also, with xkit enabled, there’s a function that auto-loads images as you scroll, so the images are always visible BEFORE they appear on screen. I don’t have to look at the colored boxes and wonder if this is a post I’ve already seen or something I should sit and wait for. Don’t even think about watching tumblr videos. Loading priority is given to the ads that you cannot pause or dismiss, so that video loads and plays in choppy two second bursts instead of being given priority. Since that’s the content I am actually here to consume, it kinda makes me want to do the opposite of patronizing anyone who advertises here with graphically intense ads. And then when you scroll away, with xkit, gifs and videos you’ve scrolled past STOP loading and playing, which I think might be contributing to the intensity of the resource hogging that’s literally melting down my laptop.

And for reference, I have a pretty decent little gaming laptop. A blogging platform shouldn’t be driving it to the brink of frying itself. I didn’t realize just how much xkit worked to streamline this and provide basic functionality to this site.

*And lastly, if you're an XKit user, know that the XKit team is working hard to update things on their end to make it compatible with the beta dashboard.

And this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what I’ve lost without xkit. And this is a really REALLY garbage response to user complaints. “Oh, yeah, sorry we made our site suck even worse, but those nice people who do our jobs for free will surely fix our garbage soon!”

Dear wonderful people at @new-xkit-extension, I love you, and I miss you, and while I wish xkit worked with this beta version I’ve been forced into living with, I truly feel for y’all who are trying to deal with this nonsense on behalf of all of us.

And to the folks at Tumblr... maybe try to just... make your site actually more like xkit. You know, actually functional. None of these special new features are useful or functional to me. I respectfully request for a fourth time to be removed from this inane beta test.

Give us OPTIONS. Let us display ALL THE TAGS without having to click a button. Let me have back my Activity+ that actually allowed me to interact with people from my dash! That showed me real-time inline notifications in a way that I could reply to with a single click! Bring me back to my column of open messaging conversation icons so I have easy access to the people I talk with throughout the day instead of closing them all every time I refresh the page. I already feel socially isolated in freaking quarantine, please stop shutting off all my avenues of communication!

Let us have pagination! I mean, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to force heavy users of this site into a beta version that doesn’t allow us to opt out until your engineers had actually figured out how to make it work in a very basic way.

*Let me know if there's anything else I can help you with!

YES. PLEASE REMOVE ME FROM THIS BETA TEST NOW. I have let you know exactly what I want from this site. I just want it to ACTUALLY WORK. For someone who spends 12+ hours a day on this site, this beta test version is NONFUNCTIONAL. PLEASE ALLOW ME TO OPT OUT. I AM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU. I WILL ACTUALLY PAY YOU CASH MONEY TO ALLOW ME TO OPT OUT OF THIS AND GO BACK TO HAVING A FUNCTIONAL BLOG AGAIN. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!

PLEASE!

I AM OFFICIALLY AT THE END OF MY PATIENCE FOR ENDURING THIS NIGHTMARE.

(one final quick note... I’ve only been back on my dash long enough to make the parenthetical edits-- i.e. adding italics that don’t display and then adding the asterisks at the beginning of each section of quoted text, and already my laptop is overheating again. For reference, I originally typed this entire post from within my tumblr inbox page-- which still functions normally with xkit-- and spent over an hour on it. My laptop was fine the entire time. Clearly the issue is this beta version of the website. I will never forgive tumblr if y’all fry my literal only portal to the outside world at this time. PUT ME BACK TO NORMAL NOW. THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INFURIATING AND ENTIRELY UNACCEPTABLE. Thanks)

(oops apparently i lied... when the asterisks and the previous final note failed to display, I thought that seemed suspicious, and realized that I literally needed to refresh my entire dash in order to see edited changes. Funny how xkit enabled me to do that in real time, which is just another bit of functionality I’ve lost with this beta program. Please guys, this is really, really not working for me at all, just put it back.)

#tumblr problems #staff #support #xkit #was this good enough for you? because I am totally done with this if that wasn't completely obvious #please end my suffering

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csykora · 4 years

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[A candid photo of Igor kissing his very grumpy toddler’s forehead goodnight]

The Greens could feel they were getting older, and Coach’s rookies just stayed the same. Two had joined CSKA that year. One of them was another Sergei, who we’ll call Seryozha. He had grown up skating eagerly every day, just outside their training camp in the city of Arkhangel. He thought Igor “was one of the smartest people I've talked to on this earth," and is pretty sure his idol didn’t know he existed. (Having read Igor’s book, I can now confirm). The other was Sasha, and had been born on the other side of the world, in Siberia, before he was taken early for CSKA’s system.

Sasha did not like any of this any better than the Greens had before him. Picking up the tension between the team’s leaders and Coach Tikhonov, Sasha had no problem talking back when Tikhonov turned on him. After his first season, the same trick that had made Igor an officer was used on him, making him a real Russian soldier who could be shot for treason. Igor hadn’t fought it, but the whole team heard Sasha yelling down in Tikhonov’s office.

Quiet settled for a while when Sasha was privately promised a better position to soften the blow--the top right wing, at Igor's side. 30 was creeping up on Sergei. He, Igor, and Vova privately celebrated and mourned the upcoming '88 Olympics as the last time they might play together on the world stage before Sergei's clock ran out. Pretty soon Tikhonov would be ready to retire him, just like Kharlamov.

But there were still signs that replacing Sergei wouldn't be easy, on either side. One day in practice, Sasha was injured and the team doctor told him to just watch from the stands that night. Igor saw him leaving the locker room just as Coach came in. Coach demanded that he get his sweater on immediately. Sasha repeated what the doctor said, and Tikhonov repeated what he had said, but louder.

“‘I thought I had explained it clearly enough,’’” Igor remembers little Sasha saying. “‘I will not play. That is all!’” And he walked away. Igor had to cough and cover laughter as Coach stood speechless.

“Only his wife and his dog like [Tikhonov],” Sasha once said. “And I don’t understand how they do.”

In December of ‘87, Igor thought that with a little help, maybe he could score another point on Tikhonov. He reached out to the author of that article about the hockey program that he had read to the point of memorizing two years before. Their conversation turned into an interview. He admitted he wasn’t ready to share the deepest details, but even scratching the surface of the Soviet image was enough to attract attention. Igor decided he liked to think of himself as a bit of an author. All the papers were calling for more quotes, until Lena got fed up and unplugged their phone.

At practice after it was published, Coach Tikhonov screamed, “‘Comrades, I always thought that I was working with hockey players. But here, do you understand, it has become clear I was not right. Among us are writers! Larionov, for example, is a Boris Pasternak!’

I think we could safely say he was not pleased.”

Two months later, the national team headed to Calgary for the Olympics. Before the Games the senior players had asked as always--if we win, wouldn’t it be possible to train less this summer, to rest, to see our families during the coming year? Coach Tikhonov said they’d talk about it if they got him gold.

Journalists invited Igor to a press conference. They forgot a Russian translator, though, so when they asked the first question and he understood it, he decided not to bother pretending he didn’t speak English. They asked how his new literary career was looking (and whether he’d had any flare-ups of that tonsillitis). He told them what he thought was the truth, colder than it had been when he was 20.

“I do not hope for some kind of large and speedy change for the better….But, I am not losing hope. We shall see what we shall see.”

They still had the rest of the Olympics to play. Between periods in the first round, Coach Tikhonov took Sasha out to the hallway and began to lay into him for mistakes he may or may not have made yet. Sasha told him no again, so Coach Tikhonov punched him in the gut.

Slava was the only one who saw, but he told the others. If thinking the team didn’t need him had snapped some key piece of Igor’s heart, the winter of ‘87 and ‘88 broke Vova’s massive one. They had won gold, again--and Vova had heard Tikhonov say that he wished he could coach the Canadians instead. Vova had swept more scoring titles, been named the best winger in the world, again--and Tikhonov had given a public speech about how Vova was proof that he, Viktor Tikhonov, and his physical training methods could make anyone a star. Igor was furious for his friend, and Vova was realizing nothing they did would ever be enough for Coach Tikhonov to stop hurting them.

They had nothing to do at Arkhangel, after eight years of doing the same nothing. One night in the spring Vova and Igor climbed out their bedroom window and hiked through the woods to a bar in the city. They sat beside a Canadian journalist and gave a short interview, Igor translating for them both.

By the summer of ‘88, Slava was done, too. He wanted permission to play in the NHL during the regular season, and he told everyone so. Officials told him no problem. And then they got out the red tape.

“You would not wish it on an enemy. Especially not on Slava, who is my friend. It was painful to look at him, irritated, disappointed by the word that had been given to him, grown tired from going from office to office, lost.”

When he complained, the Party told him if he wasn’t happy in Arkhangel he could always play in a Siberian labor camp instead.

But Igor was also busy, or trying to be, at home. He and Lena had their first baby, a daughter, Alyonka. Like her father, she was frighteningly small. If officials had thought becoming a husband and father would scare Igor into shutting up, like it had Lyosha, they were super wrong. The boredom, indignity, and constant inconvenience of Soviet life was bitterer now that he had to see it happening to someone else. When his daughter was sick, he couldn’t go home to hold her. When she was hungry, he might spend his whole day off wandering around the city, waiting in different lines to be told that there was nothing worth waiting for left. During parts of the season he could visit their apartment in Moscow in the afternoons, but couldn’t help cook or eat with Lena or stay to clean up and put Alyonka to bed.

Just like Tretiak had, he asked Tikhonov for time off next August--no days off, just nights, to be able to stay for dinner and drive back for training.

No.

“In August it was a life and death necessity for me to spend the night at the base? Well, the World Championship was not far off. Only eight months!”

Igor thought about it. He told the Greens that he was thinking about publishing another article. They were excited to read it, asking what this one would be about. He still wasn’t quite ready to say it, but he wanted them to know the moment was coming, so he just made them promise to read it.

Then he quit. In September he handed Tikhonov a letter explaining that he would play his last season with CSKA. They could let him go to the NHL during the regular season, or home to Khimik, or wherever he was wanted, as long as it wasn’t here. He went to the newspaper that promised him it could print fastest, and published it.

In his resignation letter, addressed to Tikhonov and now to the whole Soviet Union, he told everyone about the schedule (it was shocking, he said, that he and Lena managed to have a baby, when Tikhonov didn’t let him sleep beside his own wife); about how Tikhonov had made that schedule more important than Kharlamov, then Tretiak, and now Igor too; about Tikhonov punching Sasha; about the steroid injections he’d kept secret for Tikhonov for six years.

Those last two pieces were the wedge that any officials looking to shift the system needed. The papers published more pieces arguing one way and the other, which only made sure everyone heard about it. Fans and former players, now officers, stopped to pat Igor’s shoulder. Igor was informed that the legendary Tarasov, in his country retirement, had quite liked it.

Coach Tikhonov didn’t like Igor’s poetic inclinations any better this time. He was getting calls from all kinds of important people, and they weren’t going well. For the first time in years he was quiet, speechless. And then it became clear that was his response: he wouldn’t acknowledge Igor’s existence. He couldn’t take him off the roster now, but he could pretend he wasn’t there. No criticism in practice, no direction, nothing.

That was the difference between them, Igor wrote, both of their fatal flaw: Igor wanted to talk to everyone in the whole world, and Tikhonov had never learned how to talk to people.

The veteran players on CSKA’s second line found quiet moments to come up to Igor, and let him know they were on his side. Slava, still fighting for his own right to leave the team, came to Igor as soon as he’d read it, and took his hand. He told him Igor had done the right thing. Sergei and Vova embraced him and agreed.

Lyosha wasn’t sure it was right to share what had been said in the room, or to undercut Coach, who had kept him when he was at his lowest, and he was afraid of being sent to Siberia.

He told Igor, “You and I are not going the same path.”

And they did.

CSKA went on the road in October. In Sergei’s hometown Chelyabinsk fans hung over the rails and heckled Tikhonov, asking if he’d come to steal more children. His brothers Nikolai and Yuri were an institution in the city, and locals had consoled themselves over losing out on the full set by imagining that Sergei was doing well for himself and making a name for their city. Tikhonov turned away from the ice to try to shout at a fan like he did his players, and was swamped. Igor burst out laughing.

The next game, Tikhonov told the assistant coaches to tell Igor that Tikhonov still wasn’t talking to him but he could take a shift now, or whatever, not that Tikhonov cared. Igor caught the puck and carried it along the boards, expecting Sergei and Vova to chase him. Instead he hit a patch of bad ice, and then two of the other team landed on top of him on the way down. His right foot went the wrong way.

Now Tikhonov had a cast iron-excuse. Igor went home, and held his daughter, and waited and worried to hear what would happen if he didn’t heal in time for the next national team tournament--the Super Series, which would be the last warm-up before the ‘88 Olympics. It was out of his control, and he couldn’t bear that.

Igor has an explanation for what he did next that I’m sure felt sensible at the time. We, now, can gently set that aside. Igor had all the symptoms of a serious eating disorder, so for three weeks, he only drank water and honey.

Because, and I just can’t stress this enough, Igor, your bones heal in their own time anyway, he was back on the ice a month or so after that. Once again able to skate himself sick with CSKA’s reserve team, he started eating fruit and the occasional vegetable again.

The team doctor, who I guess had been hired on the basis of being able to say, “All good, Coach!” over an injured player faster than anybody else, cleared him to play. (Like a stopped clock, Igor maintains that the doctor--who Igor had seen point a concussed Vova in the general direction of the goal, roll players over the boards, and offered Igor mystery drugs--got it right this one time. Again, gently, we can question Igor’s medical fucking expertise here.)

It didn’t matter anyway. Tikhonov stood with arms crossed the whole time watching Igor skate, and said he was out of condition. He sent him home.

Igor was helpless again. His family wouldn’t get the pay from wins with CSKA, and now they were missing tournaments. Those could earn him $300, five months ordinary pay. He could train as much as he wanted alone--it wasn’t the same as playing with the Greens, and anyway now Tikhonov could always have a handy excuse to say he wasn’t back to his old self. All he had were his friends, who seemed sympathetic, but still hadn’t done anything.

Winter was coming on by now. He drove from Moscow to the training camp and walked across the grounds in the first drifting snow. Everything was quiet, cold, and clear, and he might as well have been twenty again, but this time he wouldn’t cross through the barracks door. Sergei, Vova, and Slava saw and came running down to meet him in the snow. They were glad to see him, worried for him, but they knew that Tikhonov was having his way.

I drove home along the Leningrad highway. I felt like shouting. ‘Where are your friends in a time of trouble? WHERE??? Can I expect sympathy from you, and nothing more?’...

Only my wife understood my despair.”

Main

Next>>

#green unit #cw disordered eating #igor larionov #slava fetisov #wayne gretzky #sergei makarov #vladimir krutov

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lennonhudson · 3 years

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TASK 001;

Headcanon Countdown

5. FIVE HEADCANONS ABOUT: MENTAL HEALTH

5) Lennon has a pretty moderate case of OCD. It affects her every day. She has a subtype of OCD called ‘Pure O’ OCD, mostly focusing on the obsession aspect and less of the physical compulsions. However, Lennon still has certain compulsions she carries out.

4) Often times if you pay attention, you’ll notice Lennon counting things. Mostly with things like stairs and steps. With stairs, she has to look down and count the steps as a way to make sure she doesn’t trip down them. She also tends to count steps in between each sidewalk section.

3) Her OCD feeds into a panic disorder that Lennon has. If the panic disorder is triggered, Lennon tends to hole up at home using aromatherapy, cold towels, and different methods to quell it. However, most of the time she plain avoids things that trigger panic attacks.

2) Other than her fear of extreme weather events, Lennon isn’t afraid of much. But extreme weather events is a pretty big issue. Most of them like tornadoes or things like Yellowstone’s inevitable huge eruption isn’t something that is an immediate issue. However, during wildfire season, Lennon constantly checks the apps and news to see how they are travelling.

1) Pure Obsessional OCD is really something that manifests in unwanted and intrusive thoughts, and health focus. In order to quell that, Lennon will do a lot of things to either distract or refocus her thoughts. If she’s doing something then Lennon doesn’t have time for obsessive thoughts. Otherwise, Lennon will mentally repeat phrases or even mutter them. She also will often seek reassurance from her family or close friends, online research, etc.

4. FOUR HEADCANONS ABOUT: READING

4) Lennon reads more than anything. It’s the most common media that she consumes. She doesn’t really watch TV, preferring books. It’s escapism for her, honestly. However, her love of books started when she was younger.

3) Her favourite genre of book to read is classic and fantasy. Classics were ‘the foundation of literature’ and so something that she liked to read just to be able to say that she had read them.

2) Whenever Lennon is out, she carries a backpack as a purse. In that backpack, at all times, is a copy of ‘Anne of Green Gables’. It’s heavily used and heavily annotated by her. It’s her favourite book as Lennon heavily relates to the character of Anne Shirley.

1) Lennon writes in her books. She uses them as a journal of sorts. She will highlight and underline quotes or passages, write reactions and comments in the margins. If you open any of her books there are a multitude of coloured markings everywhere. It’s this reason that she doesn’t often lend out her books to others.

3. THREE HEADCANONS ABOUT: CHILDHOOD

3) River is about 5-6 years older than Lennon and a way for them to bond was through aquariums. River would take Lennon when he worked at Aquarium of the Bay and she would sit there talking about how she wanted to steal an otter.

2) Most of her clothes were from thrift shops. Lennon loved going with her mom to Berkeley and shopping in the vintage shops there. April, her mother, always let Lennon pick out her own clothing. Until Lennon developed an actual fashion sense, she often looked like she was dressed by closing her eyes and randomly picking out clothes.

1) As a child, Lennon watched the Princess Diaries movie ALL THE TIME. Bodhi and River were sick of having to spend their allowed screen time watching the movie. Lennon, however, loved to see all the local places that the movie was filmed at as much as the movie itself.

2. TWO HEADCANONS ABOUT: HOCKEY

2) Lennon got into hockey watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs at a friend’s house. Even she can’t really give a definite reason why she likes the sport as much as she does. The only other sports person in her family was Bo who doesn’t even watch sports.

1) Every paycheck she got from work went to seeing the San Jose Sharks. After the docked bills and stuff she had to pay the rest of her paycheck would go to a ticket fund. If she couldn’t get tickets to an important game, Lennon would pester one of her brothers to go to San Jose with her to watch the game in a bar or dive near the SAP Center. She once got into a verbal altercation at one of the bars with a fan of an opposing team.

1. ONE HEADCANON ABOUT: SNACKS

1) Her favourite snack is banana pudding with Nilla wafers in them. Lennon’s fridge is stocked with either homemade banana pudding or the rare banana pudding cups. She takes the snack everywhere she can. For her it’s a safe food.

#smrp:task #* task 001. ]#* headcanon. ]#mental illness cw

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zankivich · 5 years

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The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 3

a/n: hi. I don’t know where this chapter came from. I just really don’t. But she’s kind of cute and I like her. I’m busy so I don’t have time to bore you all at the moment, but just know it only goes up from here lol.

WARNINGS: BDSM tones (ropes), sex without a condom, aftercare, squirting.

*y/n’s point of view*

There’s a website that most of the companies in the industry use for all messaging. It’s a way to easily house all your members and employees on one central hub. Everyone can search each other by name, do direct messages, group chats, you name it. It’s an easy way to keep all information going and easily viewable without digging through millions of emails. The fact that most companies used the same one wasn’t usually a problem because they each had their own centralized locations. In the normal world, a person at Atlantic couldn’t just easily message a person at Sony, because they weren’t on the same hub. Silly of you to think that that would matter.

You’re in the middle of a meeting to discuss the roll out plan for Khalid’s new album. You’re busy. There’s a lot going on. Tiana has your phone at her desk, because no one should be trying to reach you at this moment. The only thing that you do have is your laptop, and this messaging app. So, when your VP of Sales and Marketing is trying to lay out the strategic vision for the album, and your laptop starts dinging you actually catch said messages.

Shawn: why is it harder to get in touch with you than the fucking president?

You peered at the screen of your computer and rolled your eyes. This man was nothing but a nuisance. A hot...large....thick nuisance.

y/n: Because the president has an ego bigger than his racism and I’m a busy ass woman? Why didn’t you just text me.

Shawn: I did! Tiana told me you keep your phone out of your office during meetings? Who the hell does that?

Y/n: Competent managers who want to engage and take care of their clients. How the hell did you find me on here?

Shawn: I had one of the interns hack the website. It’s not that hard apparently.

Sometimes you liked to pause and take a moment to think about how wild it was that this was your life now. Sneaking around with a man six years younger than you with an ego just about the size of his massive body, but with a tongue that could move mountains. It was truly a difficult reality but thus here you were.

y/n: What is it Shawn?

Shawn: I bought something new, and it came in today. Want to try it with you.

Damn.

“Y/n do you want to see the projected numbers?”

“Huh?”

You peered up from your laptop where your team was all staring at you practically drooling. Pull it together woman.

“Oh. Yes!” you cleared your throat. “Yea. Let’s go over projected numbers, and then we can talk through promo. I want to make sure Khalid feels good with the workload.”

y/n: I am at work.

You did everything in your power to pay attention to whatever your associates were talking about. Everything except for closing the damn laptop.

Shawn: I’m aware. Me too. I wanna try ropes though. I even bought those candles you wanted.

You’d gone over to Shawn’s place and discovered that he thought scentless candles would set some type of mood and get your panties wet. Instead you had asked him what the point of a candle with no smell. He said light. You said that’s what the fucking lamps were for and that this wasn’t the little house on the prairie. And then he bent you over his couch and fucked you until you came two times in a row. It had seemed like a really worthy conversation at the time, with a lovely end as well. But, this was much better in your estimation.

Y/n: the eucalyptus ones?!?!?!

Shawn: I’m glad you’re more excited for candles than my dick, but yes.

Y/n: Of course I am. I barely know your ass. Candles are forever.

Shawn: I’ve actually licked my cum out of your vagina before. Strangers is simply not what we are.

Y/n: Yo when the Russians hack us all to end civilization as we know it? I hope they deliver that quote personally to tmz.

Shawn: if civilization is ending let the record show I was secure enough in my manhood. No regrets!

You found yourself laughing behind your computer screen on account of your hookup being an actual idiot. It was kind of nice to not hate the person you were having casual sex with. It was even nicer to keep him on his toes and constantly take the piss out of him when everything about his world seemed rooted in telling him he could do no wrong. One look at the people in your office, and your client who was looking at you like you were crazy, told you that they did not share your sentiment. Time to close the laptop.

***

His apartment oozes peppermint and eucalyptus. It’s endlessly warm and inviting, makes your bones feel a little softer already. Turns out you were right, as you tended to be at least ninety-three percent of the time. And the playful roll of his eyes when he opens the door and sees you grinning is all the confirmation that you need.

“Come to the bedroom.” He sighed tugging on your hand.

You pass by the couch and feel a familiar stirring in your belly again as he leads you towards his room.

“No couch this time?”

“No. Want you to be more comfortable when I tie you up.”

There’s a complex array of emotions that overcomes you when he says stuff like that. The relationship that you had was different than anything you’d ever done before. Shawn was dominant of course, and he led you through just about every step of the process. And every time you went over to his place, or he came over to yours, somewhere throughout the night a softness would descend upon you. It wasn’t just that you didn’t need to take the lead. It was that he was telling you what to do, but he was also taking care of you. There’s a nurturing component to it that you weren’t used to even now. So you just let it flutter in your stomach and you don’t call it for it is.

In his bedroom there are more candles and mood lighting. The ropes have their own set up on the bed amongst a towel, lube, and a few toys. But he doesn’t lead you immediately to the bed. Instead he stops you with his hands on your hips. His palms squeezed tenderly there before sliding around to grab firmly at your ass. A sigh pasts your lips and he smiles.

“You can kiss me.” He instructed.

His lips are warm and firm. You liked the way that he tasted, like the languidness of his tongue between your lips. It never failed to get you going, and he knew that. So his fingers reach for the zipper at the top of your dress and the second it comes undone the garment falls to the floor. It leaves you in your bra and panties, a rich, warm brown color that did lovely things against your skin. Thank you Rihana.

He hummed. “You’re beautiful.”

His fingers map your body out like he knows it, like he’s tasted every inch of you. And maybe he has. Goosebumps spring up along your arms and legs as he touches you in exploration.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“You’re welcome. You’re gonna be tied up for the rest of the night. If you need to be let out, or you don’t want it anymore just use your safeword okay?”

You nodded gently. “Yes, sir.”

He kissed the side of your mouth and let his hands come down over your arms and down your hips.

“Get naked and get on the bed. On your knees facing away from the door..”

His sheets are soft and cool against your skin the way they always are. The bedroom is now a place of familiarity. There’s no fear here anymore. Only trust and need and want. You placed your cheek against the bedspread eyes peering over at his dresser as you waited for further instruction. He makes his way over to the dresser and reaches for a remote that’s all too familiar to you now. Shawn was a fan of playlists. Different ones for different moods. In all the time that you’d spent together thus far you didn’t think you’d ever heard the same one twice. Needless to say you were a little surprised when his taste in music was more similar to yours than you expected. But, it added another layer of comfort for you and for him.

You hear the sounds of his sweatpants dropping to the floor and your heart rate increases. You never knew what you would get. Sometimes he made you wait so long you would drip onto the bed. Those were the times where he spanked you for not being good, but always soothed you endlessly before the night was over. Sometimes, like tonight, his body finds yours quickly, fingers tracing your skin in concentration. You love this just as much.

He climbed on top of you, knees bracketing your ass and you can already feel his semi against your skin.

“I’m gonna tie your arms behind your back.” He explained. “I’ll be gentle and slow while we get you into it. And I’m gonna ask you a lot if you’re okay. I need you to be honest with me. If at any point you don’t like it you gotta stop me okay?”

“Okay.” you nodded.

“Green?”

“Green.”

He lifts your body up until you’re leaning on your knees, his own directly behind you. He reaches for a few feet of nylon rope. It’s a pretty bright purple color, and you have a feeling he picked it out with the contrast against your skin in mind. You know you would’ve.

It starts with two hoops that slide over your arms and onto your back. The rope is soft and it doesn’t hurt or agitate your skin. His fingers slip beneath the rope to make sure it isn't too tight before he ever starts on the next knot.

“Is this too tight?” He asked.

“No.”

After your back it’s your shoulders. And slowly down your arms. Between every new touch of rope around your body, his lips are at your ear asking you to make sure it’s okay, that you feel good. When it gets to your wrists, he ties a final knot that allows him to control the tightness of the entire structure from the end of the rope with his hands. He tugs it gently and it sends you sprawling until you’re bent in front of him. That’s when it clicks for you. Your wrists and arms bound, and your body completely at his mercy. It’s the most vulnerable you could ever be. And it turns you on beyond fucking belief.

“Color?” He asked.

“Green.” You whimpered.

“Do you like it?”

Your thighs twitch a little bit and you feel your back arch at the hunger in his voice.

“Y--Yea. I do. I really do.” You panted.

“Fuck. Wish you could see how good you look like this. I’m gonna flip you over, so I can see you.”

It’s much gentler than you expected. He eases you on to your back and the stretch in your arms is noticeable but not painful. He settles your body onto the towel and pulls your thighs apart so he can touch you with warm hands.

“I wanna try something else new tonight.” He smiled fingers sliding along your slit.

“Yea?”

“Have you ever squirted before?”

You shook your head softly. “I don’t think I can.”

He slid his finger inside already working on getting you stretched open. Your hips loosen and you spread your legs a little further for him to slide another finger inside.

“We’ll see about that. Roll back over for me.”

You kneeled on your knees arms still secured behind your neck. He set a pillow for your head to rest on and reached for the bottle of lube.

“Do you want a toy or my cock?” He hummed fingers squeezing at your backside.

“You. Want you.”

“Yea? Ask me nicely.”

He guided himself to your entrance, head nestling playfully between your lips. You moaned into your pillow.

“Please, sir? Please will you fuck me? I wanna be good for you.”

“Mmm...you gonna squirt for me?”

“I--I’ll try.”

“You will.”

When he presses against you the lube is still cool against your skin and you intertwine your fingers behind your back as the stretch of him filling you descends. It’s in some ways your favorite part. Just him pushing in for the first time. Your body never holds on to the exact feeling of his length stretching your walls, so it feels new every time. It feels new but it also feels right and it feels like your body is evolving. Like you’re nothing without his touch.

Before you’ve even gotten the chance to familiarize yourself with him, he’s already pulling out until just the head rests inside of you. And his palm rests right in the small of your back above your ass and he makes a sound that might as well be praise, might as well tell you you’re perfect. It’s light and airy and somehow fills you even more than his dick ever could. You preen under it.

“You feel so good.” He sighed. “Always so fucking good for me.”

You tilt your head over your shoulder to make eye contact with him. His cheeks are rosy but his eyes are hard and dark, this constant balancing act between something that reeked of sweetness and something that reeked of the opposite.

“I wanna be good for you. Put it in me please? Let me make you feel good.”

His eyes meet yours and his lips part at your words sucking an inhale of breath that tells you you’ve done good. The words that you share with each other are half of the whole thing.

“Such a good girl.” He murmured angling himself back inside of you. “How should I take you tonight? Hard and fast? Or slow and deep?”

Your fingers twitched from your restraints.

“W--Whatever makes you feel the best.”

“God you’re perfect.” He sighed starting a slow rhythm with his hips. “You always cum for me regardless. Just wanna make you cum.”

His hands reach for yours, fingers intertwining even through the rope. He digs his knees into the bed and starts to move in that way that drives your body mad. You feel so full, so endlessly and completely full. It’s too much. And he knows it because you’re definitely not hiding it. You cry out into your pillow and gasp desperately every time his hips touch yours. When you’re not loud enough for him he tugs you by your shoulder so that your moans enter the stagnant air of his apartment. There’s no faking this. He’s taking you for all that you are and he’s not letting up, wouldn’t dream of it.

His fingers grab at the very edges of your ass, slightly digging into the meat of your thighs as he moves to a slower deeper rhythm. He was right. It didn’t really seem to matter how he moved, it was always gonna feel so good you couldn’t stand it.

There’s a wet squelching as he focuses on getting deeper and deeper within you. Your back arches as he touches something that lights your nerves on fire, makes your back arch, and your moans skyrocket.

“S--Shawn! Oh my god. Oh my god right there.”

“Right there?” He grunted hips tilting to the most amazing place he could occupy.

“Yes! Yes! Holy shit!”

“You’re fucking voice, Jesus.”

His wrist came down hard, hand slapping against your skin and making you cry out further. He tightened the ropes slightly his hips pistoning in and out until an overload of sensations was hitting you. The pain of the slap. The stretch of your muscles being pulled behind you. And the searing hot pleasure every time he rubbed against whatever it was that was driving you up the wall. You’d never made sounds like the ones he was having you make. It was beyond anything you’d ever felt before. And the sobs pouring out from your throat only added to the feeling. Every gasp of breath that you took was a heightening of pleasure, of utter ecstasy.

“I can feel your pussy tightening for me. You’re so close for me, aren’t you?”

His hands are burning into your skin. You can’t breathe. It’s too much. It all feels like too much.

“I--I can’t. I don’t even--Fuck!” You cried. “I think I’m gonna--”

It starts as a tremble in your thighs. And your stomach tightens. And your fingers clench. And then it moves down your legs and into your toes. The sounds that you make get higher, breathier. Perhaps because you’ve got nothing left to give. He’s taking it all from you. It’s different. Different than anything ever.

You feel it when he pulls out of you. Feel the gush between your thighs and the throbbing in your clit. It’s intense. And the fact that you can’t touch anything. Can’t even struggle for a grip on what’s happening makes it all the more overwhelming. You feel the tears sting your eyes and for last of a better word you scream.

“Holy shit. You look so fucking good.” He hummed fingers rubbing against you as you shake and pulse. “Let it all out for me.”

He slides his fingers inside you and rubs at your clit sending you collapsing against the sheets in a sticky heap.

“Please. Please. I can’t.” You whimpered.

“Such a good girl for me.” He sighed climbing back on top of your thighs, his dick twitching anxiously at your entrance.

You’d never heard his voice sound like that before. It was so raw and blissful. Like you’d given him everything and then some. It makes you feel so good. Better even than the orgasm. You just want him to feel good.

“I’m gonna cum,” He huffed. “Good god I’m gonna fucking cum.”

His thrusts are sloppy, all sense of rhythm and precision gone. But it doesn’t matter. You’re still riding the wave. And when he presses his body against yours, his teeth biting down on your neck, it’s everything. In that moment, he’s everything. When he cums it’s like completion for you both. You find the will to tighten your muscles against him, milking him for all he’s worth even in your state of exhausting.

“Fuckin aye, y/n.” He whined. “You’re perfect.”

He pulls out of you and collapses beside you, each of you gasping for breath. Holy shit.

“That was good. Shit, that was our best yet.”

You nodded shakily still unable to form words. He peered over at you, eyes taking in every part of you. After everything it still makes you flutter inside.

“Okay,” He breathed cupping your jaw. “Time to take care of you.”

He rolled over again, straddling your thighs and you can feel your thighs twitch even then.

“I--I don’t think I can go again.” You whispered.

He chuckled behind you. “Not gonna make you go again. I’m just gonna undo these knots and get you into some aftercare.”

“Aftercare?”

He worked quickly to undo the knots, his fingers gentle but perfect.

“Let me explain afterwards okay? It’s important that we do this now.”

“O--Okay.”

Your arms collapse against the bed when the rope is removed. His fingers are immediately there, rubbing deep and firm into your skin.

“Sit up for me.” He murmured.

He’s there with a glass of water held directly to your lips. “Drink.”

You don’t realize how parched you are until the liquid runs over your throat. You reached for the glass out of his hand and finished the entire thing in one go. He smiled at you fingers till massaging your arms.

“Look I...I want to get you into the shower. It’ll help with the soreness and any fluids. I don’t have to be in there with you if you don’t want, but I think that I should. If that’s okay with you?”

You flexed your fingers against his hold, still trying to find your way back down from the clouds.

“Yea. Uh, you can come. Please?”

The water is warm, a little more on the hot side and it really does feel good on your muscles. But the feeling of the body wash on your back is even better. It’s not inherently sexual, but it feels intimate. The way his hands mapped over your hips and down your thighs. His fingers danced over your neck and between your shoulder blades. He didn’t kiss you or talk dirty or anything, but your legs--which already felt like jelly--were intertwined with his own where you stood. It was another thing that you weren’t exactly sharing with anyone else in your life. And so it wasn’t insignificant. What it meant, you weren’t sure, but it meant something.

“Do you feel okay?” He asked wrapping you in a towel post shower.

It was so different than the norm for the two of you. Shawn was an attentive lover for sure, but that still usually ended the second he wiped the cum and lube between your legs. This was a different experience entirely, although the sex had been different too. You leaned into him a little more, biting your lip when his arms wrapped around you.

“I feel a little foggy.” You admitted. “But good. I feel really good.”

A giggle passed through your lips at how good you actually felt. You had to still your fingers on his arms to stop you from stumbling. He pulled you against his chest and laughed at your state of jelliness.

“I’ve got some lotion for your arms and back. Just in case. Do you need me to carry you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Your dick ain’t that special. I can still walk.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. Just try to keep yourself upright.” He smirked.

Rude.

There’s another intimate moment where you’re sat on the edge of his bed, towel and lube long forgotten as he rubs the lotion into your back. You let your head tilt forward bonelessly and you’re at a loss for how good he’s managed to make you feel tonight. It’s a lot to absorb.

“You never explained.” You whispered, fingers digging into the softness of the sheets.

“Explained what?”

“The aftercare. W--What is it?”

“Oh. It’s just what I’m doing to you right now. I knew I wanted to do the ropes, but I’ve never actually done it before, so I had to read up a little bit.”

“Wait,” You stopped him peering over your shoulder. “You’ve never done this before?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s just something I wanted to try with you cause I...like trust you, or whatever. But, then I started looking into it and read about this thing called subdrop? It’s like...like your body gets so many endorphins and adrenaline during what we were doing, that sometimes people get a little overwhelmed or sad afterwards. Aftercare is the way of making sure you’re safe and taken care of after the fact. Do your arms hurt at all?”

You hummed at his fingers moved to massaging your hands with the lotion.

“No I--I feel amazing actually. Just tired is all.”

“Good. You can uh sleep here. Or at least rest for a few hours before you go home.”

“Yea?” You asked.

The way his cheeks went a little red did not go unnoticed to you by any means.

“Yea. You know, if you want.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

You end up in one of his t-shirts, your panties back on your hips and his hand on your ass. It’s a wonderful combination. The fact that each of you falls asleep almost immediately? Another great combination.

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