#If I could only pick ONE album-- One-X by Threes Day Grace probably

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Nine: Friday

a/n: happy friday lovies!! I am soooo excited for y’all to read this one bc it was my favvv chapter to write and I still get emo over it :’) also I think I should maybe let you all know that we only have two more chapters left in this series, and I can not thank you enough for all of the love and support you have shown it. It has been such a blast hearing your thoughts and sharing Halani with all of you lovely people, and I can’t believe the fun is almost over :( BUT we still have some time before we have to think about that soooo without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor

Word Count: 9.5k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight

Monday

Harry takes a deep breath and raises his arms above his head, feeling every vertebrae stretch as he lies flat against the surfboard. The beaming sunlight warms him down to the bone and it threatens to lull him to sleep, but his attention is too occupied with the various sounds coming from each direction. Out of his right ear, he hears the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of children’s laughter. From his left, Mitch and Tom engage in a serious conversation about sharks. He lets one foot slide off the edge of the board and wade into the water below, all the while resisting the paranoia that he will be the next victim of Jaws thanks to his friends’ discussion. 

“I’m gonna go switch out the camera.” Paul says beside him, already swimming back to the shore. 

Harry gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement and lets the back of his hand rest against his forehead. He floats for a moment longer before swinging his other leg into the water and sitting up. His feet gently tread below the surface and he studies the area for any fish sightings, but his shoulders slump in disappointment when he doesn’t find any. 

“I just think,” Mitch defends, legs crossed on his own surfboard. “That I would survive way longer than you,”

“It’s not a fuckin’ zombie apocalypse, survival rate depends on how severe the attack is,” Tom shoots back. 

“Not if you’re smart,”

“Right, good thinking, mate. Just yell the Pythagorean theorem and swim away while the bloody thing tries to solve it,”

“You just don’t get it.”

“Stop bein’ a coward, then, and put your feet in the water.”

Harry shakes his head in amusement and continues scanning the scene for something else to occupy his attention. His eyes momentarily land on a couple in the distance, the pair facing each other on their shared surfboard and laughing. He smiles softly and glances back to the shore where his group has set up camp for the afternoon. Squinting, he tries to determine the time of day using the sun’s position overhead, but quickly gives up and swims back to the beach. The sand clings to his wet toes as he jogs over to his bag and digs inside for his phone. The time reads 2:37–Alani’s shift will be over soon. 

She stifles another yawn and punches in her customer’s order, re-typing it when she realizes that it’s littered with errors. Her mind had been in a permanent fog since she woke up at 6:45 this morning. Harry had already slipped out by the time she reached over for him, but he left a note on his pillow this time. 

GOOD MORNING SWEETS!

SORRY I HAD TO JET SO EARLY :( I’LL SEE YOU AFTER WORK.

 H ☼

P.S. ALREADY MISSING YOUR LITTLE SNORES ♡

As if on cue, Alani’s phone vibrates in her back pocket and she slips it out to read the new text. 

Harry: Meet me at Honoli’i after your shift? 

She really wants to, but she’s also in desperate need of sleep. 

Alani: Gonna take a power nap first, but I’ll be there 

Harry: Can’t wait xx

********

In the distance, Harry hears The Cure blasting from a car in the parking lot. He hums along and picks at his bowl of fruit, saving the kiwis for Alani who once said they were her favorite. Jeff and Paul laugh about something between the two of them before the director catches Harry’s attention. 

“How long you planning on staying here?” he asks. 

Harry checks his phone again and the time reads 4:35. He wasn’t entirely sure how long Alani’s nap was supposed to last, but just as he’s about to answer, a text comes through. 

Alani: Heading over. See you soon, sunshine💗

He smiles softly and shuts his phone off. “I actually have a surfing lesson at five. But I’ll meet you guys at the house after.”

Paul, the two Jeffs, Mitch, and Tom bid Harry farewell and decide to take a drive along the coast before heading to dinner. They mention the name of the restaurant they plan to go to, but Harry knows he’ll probably skip it and take Alani somewhere else. He sits back on his elbows, watching the palm trees sway in the breeze, when suddenly his vision goes dark when he feels hands over his eyes. 

“Guess who,”

“The Queen of England?”

“Yes and I’m here to colonize your land and steal your jewels,” Alani jokes in a posh British accent.  She leans over his head so they partake in an upside down kiss before settling into the sand beside him. 

“You’ve already had my family jewels,” he teases with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. 

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You are so insufferable sometimes, I swear to God,”

Harry lies back and rests his head in her lap with a shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. The damp locks along his hairline are curled and Alani twirls the pieces between her fingers. 

“Saved y’some kiwis,” he informs her, nodding in the direction of his tote bag. 

“Aw thanks, baby,” 

“How was your day?” 

Alani removes the lid and pops a slice of kiwi into her mouth. “Long, boring, tiring. A lot better now,”

“Feel the same way,”

“How’s your project going?” she questions, curious about his recent, mysterious whereabouts. 

He shrugs. “S’fine, yeah,”

“What exactly is it, again?”

“It’s a,” Harry starts slowly. “Video thing… kind of,”

Alani narrows her eyes and lifts another piece of fruit to her lips. “Meaning?”

“It’s like—following uh.. the album ‘n stuff,”

“Ah the elusive album,” Alani nods. “Will I ever get to hear any of it?”

“Yeah,”

“When?”

“Dunno,” he blinks. “When’re you gonna let me read that article of yours?”

She smirks and taps her fork against her lower lip. “When it’s ready,”

“Then I’m withholding my thing ‘til it’s ready too,”

“That’s not fair,” she objects. “My article is contingent on your music,”

“One song,” Harry bargains, holding up his index finger. “In exchange for one paragraph. Seems fair to me,”

“Deal,”

He sits up suddenly and opens his mouth as an unspoken request for a kiwi. Alani tosses it in his direction and to her surprise, he catches it effortlessly. 

“You really are a freak of nature,” she marvels. “What can’t you do?”

“Stay away from you, apparently,” 

“Ditto,”

“D’you wanna head to the water for a bit?” Harry asks, his eyes landing on the board cast to the side.

Alani nods. “Sure thing,”

She strips down to the pink two piece underneath her clothes and accepts his outstretched hand. They shuffle through the sand, joint hands swinging, but Harry stops and scans her face when they reach the edge. 

“What?” Alani asks, already dipping her toes in the water. 

He runs his thumb over hers and starts hesitantly. “I know the water is kind of…”

“Oh,” she finishes when he trails off. “Yeah. I mean, for the most part I’m okay with it. Last time was just—I wasn’t expecting it,”

“I’m really sorry for that.” Harry apologizes with a somber look in his eye. 

Alani reaches her free hand out to his cheek and offers a comforting smile. “No, it’s okay. I actually used to be pretty good at surfing,”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t really done it in years, though. I’m probably really rusty now,”

“Well maybe it’s time to get back on the horse,” Harry urges, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm before leading them further into the waves. Alani gets up on the board first and it's clear that she’s a natural despite the lack of practice. Her muscles fall into a mesmerizing rhythm as they repeat the very motions she had done thousands of times before her accident. Harry’s eyes carefully study the precision of her determined arms slicing through the water and the way her feet gracefully meet the board once she’s found a strong enough wave. She glides back to the beach and revels in the familiar feeling of the ocean breeze against her skin. Harry whistles from the distance as she reaches the shore, turning back to him with a wide grin and two thumbs up. 

“Your turn,” she calls, paddling towards him on her stomach. 

Harry replaces her on the board and winces. “Maybe I should’ve gone first,”

“You’re gonna do great,” Alani insists. “Tighten your core muscles. Oh! And bend your knees, not your back. Just trust your instincts and follow through,”

He follows her advice and to his surprise, does well, though not nearly as graceful as she had. Despite this, Alani cheers from the side as he glides back to the beach. Harry takes a bow once his feet have safely met the sand below. 

“I knew you could do it,” she beams when he swims back to her. 

“Couldn’t have done it without my amazing coach,” he shoots back, leaning down to press a salty kiss to her lips. 

With Harry’s help, she swings her leg over the board and sits so that they face each other. Their legs paddle gently below the surface and his hand finds the top of her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. 

“You were incredible out there,” he muses. “Can’t even tell that you’re out of practice,”

She wrings her hair out and fastens it into a low bun at the base of her neck. “Guess it’s like riding a bike—the muscle memory and all that,”

“You’re a great coach, you know. Cause I usually just wipe out,”

“That’s normal,” Alani nods. “You have to get used to falling. And wait for the right wave,”

Harry admires the way the afternoon sun sets her aglow, skin shimmering and golden under the rays. “How d’you know when it’s the right one?”

“You just feel it I guess. It’s like a gut instinct that you have to follow. And no second guessing yourself, either, cause that’s when you mess up,”

“What if you do go for it and you still wipe out?” He questions, something besides surfing in the back of his mind. 

Alani sighs. “Then you wipe out,”

“You just have to trust?”

“You just have to trust,”

Harry hums as he considers this. Three burning syllables bounce around in his skull, but he suppresses them for the time being. Carefully, he lifts himself to his feet and motions for Alani to do the same. It takes them a second to find their balance on the board, but eventually they do and Harry brings her closer with a protective hand on the middle of her back. 

“D’you trust me?” he murmurs. 

Alani studies the different shades of green in his irises and feels a flutter deep in the pit of her belly, so she decides to take her own advice and presses a soft kiss to his warm lips before responding. 

“Yes.”

Carefully, Harry takes a step back and twirls Alani before pulling her flush to his chest and swaying to the music stuck in his brain. As best they can, the pair dances on the surface of the board but Harry’s foot gets caught in a slick spot and he tumbles backwards, bringing Alani with him. When they emerge, his heart races in worry, but the knot in his chest eases when he hears her laughter.  

“Y’okay?” he checks. 

“Yeah,” she assures him, her legs snaking around his torso under the water. “I’m alright.”

The sky turns pink as they continue to wade peacefully in the water, and the entire time Harry finds himself fixated on the weight of the three little words nagging at the back of his brain. 

********

Tuesday

“Say it again,”

“No,”

“Please?”

Harry shoots Alani an unamused look through the corner of his eye. “Dunno what’s so funny about it,”

“Just say it one more time,” she pleads with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“Tuesday,”

“Chews day,” Alani mimics and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You’re so clever,” he huffs. “Really, a true comedian,”

She giggles and leans over in her seat to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s cute!”

“Yeah, whatever,”

“Okay, just one more—”

“Alani,” Harry chuckles, more endeared than irritated. “Don’t make me turn this car around,”

She pouts playfully and returns to watching the trees and passing cars. “At least I’m not asking you where we’re going,”

“You are so stubborn,” he shakes his head. “I told you we’re almost there,”

“I just don’t understand what it is with you and keeping secrets,”

“It’s about the mystery, darlin’, it’s romantic! Just trust me, okay? Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Alani nibbles at the skin on her lower lip and folds her arms. “No,”

“Okay, then,” Harry says finally. “Now change the song. I let you have fun with one Taylor, but it’s getting old,”

“Hater,” she grumbles, shuffling through the rest of her playlists before settling on Madonna. 

Harry’s finger taps along to the beat against her thigh and his lips turn up when he hears Alani singing along. Her eyes are focused on the road ahead of them as she pretends to be in a music video of her own, creating hand gestures and choreography to accompany the lyrics. The chorus builds and she belts out the words as if her life depends on it. 

“I’m crazy for you!”  She performs, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her hands. “Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true. I never wanted anyone like this, it’s all brand new. You’ll feel it in my kiss,”

Alani presses a slobbery smooch to the side of his face and he groans, laughing when she continues melodramatically. The song goes on for another minute and Alani sings passionately out of tune, but it makes Harry’s heart swell. He briefly considers joining her, but decides to let her have her moment, too amused by the way she’s caught up in the emotion. When it’s finally over, she slumps down in her seat with a dazed look in her eye. 

“Gotta love the 80s,”

“Maybe I should let you join the band,” Harry suggests. 

“Really?

“No,”

Alani gasps in mock offense, her eyes wide. “Hey!”

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she dismisses offhandedly. “I’m a sweetie,”

“A sweet pain in my arse,”

“Arse? Did you really just say arse?”

“I take it back, you’re just a regular pain.”

The two of them drive for another forty-five minutes taking playful jabs at each other and watching the lush greenery whizz by. Harry had been characteristically cryptic in his instructions the night before, an idea suddenly popping into his mind when Alani reminded him of her day off. He had told her to wear something comfortable and practical, nothing that could flow easily in the wind. Furthermore, he revealed that he would pick her up at exactly 7:00 a.m. which made her eyebrows shoot up. 

“Seven?”

“It’ll be worth it, promise,”

“Can we at least get McDonald’s hash browns for the road?” Alani had bargained. 

Harry chuckled to himself, too excited to deny her. “Sure thing, sweets.”

Welcome to Waikōloa Beach, the sign read and Alani wondered what could possibly have possessed Harry to drag her out of bed and across the island at the crack of dawn. Her question was quickly answered when they turned onto Keana Place where a lot full of helicopters were lined up and waiting. 

“‘Big Island Tours’,” she reads aloud. “Wait a minute, we’re not—”

“Surprise!” Harry beams, reaching behind her seat for a bag. 

Alani scoffs, her mind still trying to process. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Come on,” he pleads. “Been dying to do it since I got here,”

“So bring Mitch! Or Jeff, or Tom or literally anyone else,”

Harry gives her a pout and bats his lashes. “But I’d rather be with you. Please?”

“Harry,” she sighs, taking another glance at the helicopters before her. They did seem secure enough, enclosed on all sides, and he had driven an hour and a half just to surprise her with something fun and totally outside of her comfort zone. 

“Trust me?” he asks after a minute, kissing her knuckles gently. 

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine.”

They exit the SUV and Harry takes her hand, slinging his bag over his shoulder. There’s a short, stocky man with dark sunglasses standing in front of one of the helicopters with a clipboard. He checks his watch when he sees the two of them approaching and reaches out a hand. 

“Mr. Styles?”

“Harry,”

“Nice to meet you Harry, I’m Matt,” the pilot says with a firm handshake. “Is this your guest?”

“Alani,” she greets. “Is this…”

“It’s very safe,” Matt assures her with a warm smile. 

Harry squeezes her hand gently and looks over their mode of transportation. “How long’ve you been doin’ this?”

“Almost ten years,” the pilot explains. “I was a commercial pilot for twenty-five and then started this when I retired,”

“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nervous fliers, then,” Alani speaks up, attempting humor to mask her jitters. 

Matt nods with a knowing smile. “Oh yeah. Plenty of anxious girlfriends who kick their boyfriends for dragging them into it, but they always enjoy themselves in the end,”

Alani’s cheeks warm at his assumption of their relationship status, but neither her nor Harry address it. Instead, Harry clears his throat and asks his next question. 

“So when can we go up?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Matt offers. 

Once the three of them have settled into the aircraft, he hands Harry and Alani each a headset and goes over the basic safety rules. Her heart races and stomach turns, but she takes a deep breath and wills herself to give it a chance. Beside her, Harry is enthusiastically chatting up Matt and being his usual charming self; his confidence is reassuring and she finds herself sinking deeper into his side for comfort. He drapes an arm over her shoulders protectively, sensing her nerves, and presses a firm kiss to her temple. After a few minutes of discussion with the air base over the radio, Matt gives them a thumbs up and signals that they’re ready to go. Another deep breath and they’re off, the ground growing smaller and smaller below. They skim over Waikōloa Village and head west to Waiulua Bay where the water is so clear and blue, Harry has a hard time believing it’s real. Alani peers down at the tiny people all along the coast and in the water and her throat goes dry. She feels Harry nudge her shoulder lightly and looks over to where his finger is pointed. 

“Down there you can swim with dolphins,” he says. “Looked it up last night,”

“And we’re not doing that because...?”

Harry flashes a dimpled grin and laughs softly to himself. “How are you not enjoying this?”

“I am,” Alani insists, which is steadily becoming true. She watches in amazement as they hover over the expanse of the lush, green landscape along the coast. 

Over the headset, Matt points out some key landmarks and answers more of Harry’s questions. They pass over an active volcano and Alani momentarily feels a rush of terror, but her curiosity takes over as she snaps a photo of the molten lava below. She captures another one of Harry looking out his window before flipping the camera to selfie mode and making a peace sign. He turns to tell her something, but flashes a cheesy grin and presses a kiss to her cheek when he notices the camera. Alani writes a mental note to make it her lock screen later. 

After half an hour in the air, Matt points to the cliff on their right hand side and says they’ll be landing there for a bit as part of the tour. A 200 foot waterfall feeds into a small pool and he lands them on a ledge across the way. The three of them exit the helicopter, but Matt says that he needs to check in with the base and lets them explore the site alone for a few minutes. 

“This is incredible,” Alani marvels, looking over the edge. 

“Knew you’d like it,”

She turns to him and snakes her arms around his shoulders, leaving a small peck to his lips. “Thank you,”

While she had been almost one-hundred percent sure that she would never enjoy a helicopter ride, Alani is glad that she was wrong. She is even more grateful that Harry had encouraged, but hadn’t pushed, her to try it. If Alani had been absolutely against the idea, she knows that he wouldn’t have pressed it any further and would have taken her to do something more her speed, hence the dolphin back up plan. It sometimes felt like they were from entirely different worlds, Harry being more sure of himself and adventurous while Alani was careful and preferred to have things planned. But he made her feel brave and spontaneous without pressuring  her to change anything about herself. Harry had seen something special in her and wanted the whole world to see it, too. So he encouraged her to break out of her comfort zone and let her true self shine, but only at her own discretion. Over the course of the past few weeks, Alani had noticed herself opening up to new experiences and loving every minute of it, but this transformative feeling was far from one sided; because of their relationship, Harry learned the value of trusting his own instincts. For so much of his life, he felt like a member of an overcrowded democracy allowing himself to go with the majority rule even if it didn’t particularly please him. From their earliest moments spent together, Harry was inspired by Alani’s determination and self-confidence. He had always cared deeply about other people’s opinion of him and felt that it was his greatest weakness, but she seemed so unapologetically herself at all times. And though Harry sometimes worried that he was simply playing a part for the rest of the world, he never had to question who he was with Alani. She understood him, she grounded him, and amidst all of the unfamiliarity in his new life, she felt familiar and safe. 

“You deserve it,” Harry says gently. “To see beautiful things.”

Alani presses their foreheads together and studies his emerald eyes like they’re the rarest gems she’s ever seen. “Well I’m looking at the best damn view right now,”

“Although, I wish you would’ve told me we were going to Jurassic Park, I would’ve prepared my Laura Dern outfit.”

Harry laughs softly and slots his lips between hers, those three, pesky little words nagging at him again. Not yet, he thinks, but almost there. 

********

Wednesday 

Alani takes an extended lunch and heads over to the recording studio with food for Harry and his friends. He had warned her beforehand that there would be filming, so they agreed to pretend, just for the afternoon, that she was his assistant. However, their true relationship was as much of  a mystery to the both of them as it was to everyone else. Alani had considered, on many occasions, asking him to officially be her boyfriend. She didn’t know how else to refer to him when her mom had started inquiring about the Range Rover mysteriously parked across the street every morning. Each time Alani had gotten up the nerve to ask, however, she secretly worried that it was too soon, or worse, that he would say no. Much to her oblivion Harry had also wrestled with this question, and many others, but also feared her response. What they shared was undeniably strong and completely foreign, so they had independently decided not to put too much weight on the situation in fear of bursting the bubble too soon. Neither of them were prepared to deal with the fallout if it all came crumbling down. 

“Lunch is here!” Jeff calls from the doorway as he escorts Alani inside. 

He motions her over to the table in one corner of the room and helps her lay out the food, thanking her warmly when she declines payment. 

“It’s on the house,” she reassures him. 

The crew all take turns grabbing their lunch, Mitch ruffling Alani’s hair in a display of gratitude while he swipes his burger, and settle into various chairs and comfortable spots around the studio. Harry is the last one to claim his food and he lingers around the table as he does so. 

“Thank you, Ms. Hale,” he offers politely, itching to give her an appreciative kiss. 

She nods and returns the professionalism. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles,”

“How’s the weather?”

By now, Alani has come to recognize this as his go-to inquiry when he’s really asking for her attention or affection. 

“Full of sunshine,”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiles softly. The casual slip of his nickname isn’t lost on him. 

“Hey Harry,” the director calls. “Show Jason that Bob Dylan thing you were doing—watch, you’ll love this.”

Harry musters up a pleasant smile and quickly glances at Alani, wanting nothing more than to escape with her for the precious few moments she has left to spare. 

“Occupational hazard.” she shrugs as her cue of permission. His fond look turns apologetic before he saunters over to the rest of the group. 

Alani watches, amused, as he lifts a guitar and starts strumming a tune that she hadn’t heard before with a Dylan-esque lilt in his voice. The crew all laugh and encourage his impression, but she still wonders what the song is and reminds herself to ask later. After a few moments with the rest of the group, Harry’s eyes wander to Alani munching on a french fry and scrolling on her phone. Jeff notices this too and decides to help his friend out.

“Hey Alani,” he calls. “Come sit with us,”

She looks over to Harry and he grins eagerly, making room on the couch between him and Mitch. 

“Alani makes the best smoothies in the world.”  Jeff comments to the film crew. 

“It’s true,” Mitch adds. “Harry loves ‘em.”

A subtle glare radiates from the singer, but Mitch simply winks in response. 

“Well, you guys are my favorite customers,” Alani offers. “But don’t tell the others,”

The whole team makes Alani feel welcome and she’s endlessly thankful for it, making an effort to engage every crew member in some sort of small talk as evidence of her gratitude. Harry enjoys her presence among his friends and how easily she fits in. It serves as further proof of what his gut already knew: she was a missing puzzle piece in the image of his ideal life slowly coming together before his eyes. Alani checks the time an hour later and starts bidding farewell to the group, much to their disappointment. As she slips out the door and over to the Bronco, a familiar accented voice calls from behind. Before she has time to respond, a pair of warm lips meet hers and she hums. 

“They’re all goin’ out  for dinner at 5,” Harry explains gently. “Come back to the studio then, I have somethin’ I wanna show you.”

********

It’s 5:10 when Alani makes her way back to Napua. Harry had texted her beforehand to say that the door would be open, so she lets herself in and scans the quiet room. She hears the soft keys of a piano, but the room is dim and she has to get closer to see that it’s Harry seated there. Candles are perched around the room and Alani watches her step, reaching a hand to Harry’s shoulder when she reaches him. He stops playing and flashes a soft smile, inviting her to join him on the bench. 

“Digging the ambience,” Alani remarks lightly, not entirely reading his mood. 

He shrugs. “Just felt right,” 

Harry’s fingers return to the keys and he starts with a somber chord that makes Alani’s breath hitch. His vocals are raw and gritty, but stronger than she had ever heard him sing and it nearly moves her to tears. She hangs on every word and burns them into her mind for safe keeping, though she doubts that she could ever forget this moment even if she tried. Harry picks up into the chorus and leaves nothing behind, diving straight into the wave without fear of wiping out. Alani tries, but she can’t contain the tears that spill over her cheek. It’s as if every ounce of apprehension and anxiety, every doubt and moment of insecurity is cleansed from her soul right in this very moment. When the song comes to an end, she immediately wishes to relive it and tries to find the right words in response. 

“That was incredible,” Alani clears her throat. “What’s it called?”

“Sign of the Times,” he responds. “Not really sure about it,”

She furrows her brows in confusion, but quickly realizes that he’s being honest and not fishing for compliments. 

“Why?”

“It’s… different,”

“Than?”

He thinks for a moment and chooses his next words carefully. “Anything I‘ve ever done before,”

“And why’s that bad?” Alani questions with a comforting hand weaving its way into his hair. 

“Dunno,” Harry sighs, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t wanna get it wrong,”

At this moment, “it” isn’t just the song. Everything about his new solo career, and his life in general, is a toss up, and one that he isn’t sure will land in his favor. Alani has no doubts, though, not when it comes to her faith in Harry’s abilities. 

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

He looks over to her and thinks that he couldn’t possibly be more content. “Yeah,”

“Then you’re already succeeding. If you’re happy with what you’re doing, then no one can tell you that you’re not successful,”

Harry feels his own wave of emotions pooling at the bottom of his lash line and he’s grateful that the low lighting conceals it. He closes the gap between their lips, palm secure against the side of Alani’s face as he keeps her close. 

“There’s somethin’ else I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry says gently and Alani feels her heartbeat pick up. 

“Okay,”

He isn’t sure how to approach the subject, despite the fact that it’s been the only thing on his mind for days, so he decides to trust his gut and speak from the heart.

“These past few weeks with you,” he starts slowly. “Have been the best of my entire life. When I’m with you, it’s like nothing else in the entire world matters, and nothing bad could ever happen to me because there’s you,”

Another tear rolls down Alani’s face and Harry wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“All I asked for was a chance,” he continues. “And it feels like you’ve given me the entire world. Do you remember the day when we saw that rainbow?”

“Yes,” Alani nods, voice small. 

“You told me to wish for something, and I did. I wished for a home. I didn’t know why, but that word wouldn’t leave me alone after you said it. But I think I understand it now, because I’m in a place I’ve never been before, physically and in my life generally, but you make it feel like home. You bring me home,”

Alani feels as if all of the air inside her lungs has been sucked out, and her grip on Harry’s wrist tightens because she worries that if he lets go, she’ll float away like a helium balloon. 

“I know I’m not perfect,” Harry continues, voice wavering. “But this thing we have feels like it could set the world on fire, and I’d gladly walk in the flames for you. So would you please say you’ll be mine and let me prove it?”

“Yes,” Alani breathes, tears of relief and joy still streaming down her face. “But I need a moment to compose an appropriate girlfriend acceptance speech,”

Harry grins and presses their lips together as if she’s the only source of air. 

“Seriously,” Alani chuckles when they pull apart. “Cause how the fuck could I top that?”

“Y’don’t need to. Saying yes was all I needed,”

She unclasps her fingers from his, draping her arms around his shoulders instead, and takes a deep breath. “You’re everything, you know that? You’re the sun and the whole universe revolves around you.”

“And you’re the most heavenly moon,” Harry responds thinking back to the meaning of her name. “Mahealani.”

********

Thursday

When Alani’s father had asked for her help setting up a wedding that was taking place at the resort this weekend, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t often that she got to be involved in the events at Honu, but she adored the luxurious five star hotel and all of its amenities. She had helped her dad cater numerous events over the years and weddings were her absolute favorite, especially because of the beautiful gowns and all of the blissfully happy couples. It felt like a privilege to glimpse into the most special moments in the lives of strangers she would probably never see again. Alani had been tasked with meeting the bride and collecting any last minute meal cards or notes of dietary restrictions from guests. The wedding was to take place the following night, but all the food prep would begin that afternoon in order to adequately prepare. 

“I think that’s all. There were just a few last minute adjustments,” the bride, Mila, says pulling out an envelope from her bag. 

“No offense,” Alani starts. “But shouldn’t you be resting? I mean isn’t the maid of honor supposed to do all this? Or a wedding planner?”

Mila sighs, an embarrassed smile spreading across her rosy lips. “I know, I’m just a bit of a control freak. I like things done a certain way,”

“Totally understandable,”

“Like the music thing,” Mila rolls her eyes. “It was my fiancé’s idea. He said that DJs were boring and wanted to let the guests choose their own songs, instead. So that was my compromise. I’m trying,”

Alani offers a chuckle and shuffles the last of the cards into her stack. “Sounds like you’re already mastering this whole marriage thing,”

“Are you married?” the bride asks, curiously. 

“Oh, no I’m not,” 

“Got a boyfriend?”

Alani’s cheeks warm and her lips curl. “Yes,”

“Knew it,” Mila comments with a knowing smirk. “You’re too pretty to be single. And you’ve got the look,”

“What look?” Alani questions. 

Mila flutters her lashes and sighs. “The ‘I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it’ look. Like a Disney princess,”

Alani laughs shyly and focuses her attention back to the envelopes in front of her. 

“What’s his name?” the bride pries. 

“Harry,”

“That’s a good one,” Mila considers tapping her lower lip. “Like the Prince of England. Maybe you will be a princess, after all,”

Alani is amused by the irony of her statement, but she chooses not to disclose the fact that her boyfriend actually is British, albeit, not a Royal. Instead, she chooses to deflect the attention back onto the bride. 

“And what’s your lucky guy’s name?”

“Chad,”

“Like the country,”

“Yeah,” Mila giggles. “Like the country,”

“And what’s he like?”

Mila rests her chin in her hand and a dreamy look settles into her hazel eyes. “Funny. He wanted to be a comedian, but he became a lawyer, instead. That’s how we met— law school,”

“What kind of law do you practice?”

“Ironic enough,” Mila chuckles. “Family and divorce law. I never thought I’d get married, I mean I literally hear about people falling out of love every day. But the thing about love is that it’s effort, and a lot of people aren’t willing to put in the work. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s the right person, though. Just feels like ‘how can I be the best possible partner to this human that I love so much?’”

Alani considers this, her mind immediately wandering to Harry and all of his thoughtful gestures. “Makes sense,”

“Chad is a patent lawyer,” Mila continues. “He’s the more creative, outgoing one, I guess. He makes things light when it gets too heavy, you know? It’s good to have someone like that,”

“Yeah, definitely,”

“What’s your guy like? What does he do?” Mila asks with a flirty grin. 

“He’s, uh,” Alani thinks for a second trying to be as vague as possible. “A musician,”

Mila gives an approving nod. “Dreamy. Bet he writes lots of songs about you,”

“Maybe,”

“Don’t be shy,” Mila urges. “Come on, it’s just us girls. Spill,”

Alani thinks for a moment and imagines that the same dream cloud must be present over her own features.

“Well he’s kind, thoughtful, romantic, and wise. Really funny, too. I don’t know he just—he makes me wanna be a better person, really,”

“Wow,” the bride marvels. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,”

“He is,”

Mila leans in conspiratorially and Alani does the same. “Speaking as an expert, I think it’s gonna last forever,”

“You think?” Alani asks. 

“Oh yeah,” Mila assures her. “When you’re so used to studying fake love, you get really good at recognizing the real deal,”

Alani offers her an appreciative smile and nods. “Thank you,”

Mila’s eyes light up suddenly and she grabs Alani by both hands. “Hey you should bring him! Yeah, you two should come, I insist,”

“Oh, I—”

“Please, say you will! Maybe he can throw in some good music recommendations to offset the terrible ones,”

Alani chuckles and she knows immediately that Harry would leap at the chance to do so. “Okay, sure.”

“Yay!” Mila cheers, reaching into her planner and jotting a note down. “Harry and Alani at the lovebird’s table.”

********

“Hey, sweets,” Harry beams, pulling up to the front of the hotel in the Cadillac. “Waiting on your boyfriend or are you just in the habit of standing on sidewalks lookin’ cute?”

“The former,” Alani responds coyly. “He’ll be here any minute,” 

“And he’s got a pretty girl like you waiting outside like this? You should dump him,”

She shrugs and turns on her heel for a stroll while Harry gently eases off the breaks to follow. “I don’t know, I’m kinda fond of him,”

“S’that so?” he continues with a smirk. 

“Yup,” she sighs. “He’s kind of a dork, but I like that about him,” 

“Heyyy—”

“And he’s a good kisser. The best at cuddling, too,” 

“Sounds like a catch,” 

“He is. You two should meet sometime,”

The car comes to a halt and Alani slips inside, scooting all the way down the bench seat next to Harry. 

“Funny, you should be a comedian,” he quips.

Alani’s brow furrows and she shoots him a doe-eyed look. “What’s the joke?”

Harry laughs dryly, ignoring the pang of irrational jealousy that strikes him in the chest. “You’re a little too good at this bit, it’s starting to feel like we're not talkin’ about me anymore,”

“Oh, were we supposed to be talking about you?” 

His head whips over to Alani who clutches her stomach with laughter. “I’m kidding, baby, of course I’m talking about you,” 

“No, who is he?” Harry demands playfully with a deep furrow between his brows. “Tell me, I’ll hurt him,” 

Alani slots their lips together and his pout eases into a grin. 

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow night?” she asks, feeling the ocean breeze through her hair. 

Harry flashes a dimple in her direction. “Anything you want, s’long as we’re together,”

“Will you be my plus one?”

“To?”

“A wedding,” Alani explains. “The one my dad’s catering at Honu,”

His eyebrows raise and he smiles wide. “Are we crashing it?”

“No,” she laughs. “We were invited. I was hanging out with the bride today and she added us to the list,”

“‘Kay, but I’m still gonna pretend we crashed it,”

Alani drapes her arms around his shoulders and leans her head against his. “Where are we going?”

“Damn, I thought I had you distracted,”

“Boyfriend rule #1: You have to tell me where we’re going always,”

Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s not a real rule because surprises are romantic,”

“Too bad,” Alani shrugs.

“But don’t you enjoy my surprises?”

“Usually,”

“Then I’m adding a new rule,” Harry bargains. “The girlfriend can not ask the boyfriend to disclose the location of a date if they’re already in the car,”

“That’s not fair, I was already in the car when the rule was made!”

“Too bad.”

Alani pinches his cheek and slinks back into her own seat. She tells him about the bride and the groom, what she knows, at least, and about the decision to have their guests RSVP with a song of their choice to play at the reception. 

“D’you know what you’re gonna pick?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah,” Alani nods. “I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston, obviously,”

“Obviously,” he agrees. 

“You?”

“Dunno, yet. Have to narrow it down,”

Alani admires the heart-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Well you better make it good, cause Mila knows that you’re a musician and she’s expecting you to balance out her friends’ shitty music taste,”

“You were talkin’ about me?” he teases. 

“Well, yeah, how else do you think you got invited?”

“You have such a crush on me, s’cute,”

Alani playfully pokes his cheek. “We’re literally dating, dummy,”

“Don’t get defensive,” Harry jokes. “Cause I’ve got a crush on you too.”

“God, we’re so annoying.”

Harry grins and presses a kiss to her temple. They pull into the Port of Hilo and he magically produces a picnic basket from the backseat, a bottle of Moët et Chandon rosé peeking out. Alani slips her fingers between his and follows as he leads them to a sizable speed boat anchored and waiting for them. 

“The Carolina,” Alani reads, admiring the golden cursive on the side. 

“Like someone else I know,” Harry winks. 

He escorts her onto the vessel and she waits to see when the captain will join them, but confusion washes over her when she sees Harry poking around with the equipment. 

“What are you doing?”

“As much fun as it would be to eat at the dock,” he begins. “I think it would be more fun to take ole Carolina for a spin,”

“You mean you’re gonna drive this thing?” Alani questions, though she doesn’t know why she’s surprised by him anymore. 

“Pilot,” Harry corrects. “But yes,”

Alani blinks and tries to wrap her head around the idea of Harry piloting a boat. “And you’re allowed to do that?”

“Sure.”

“Wow,” she marvels to herself with an incredulous laugh. “I’m dating a sailor.”

Harry flashes Alani a wink over his shoulder and before she knows it, they’re heading away from the dock. She carefully stands from the lounging area at the back and sneaks over to Harry, arms wrapping around his torso with her chin propped on his shoulder. He steers with one hand and extends the other, recreating the iconic Titanic boat scene. 

“I’m flying, Jack!” he calls over his shoulder and Alani giggles, responding with her best improvised rendition of My Heart Will Go On. 

They sail out for a bit longer before Harry stops the boat and turns to her. “Ta da!”

“By jove, he’s done it!” Alani praises. 

Harry takes a bow and reaches over for the picnic basket, pulling out the rosé and two champagne flutes. He hands them to Alani and spreads their meal on the lounging area at the back: vegetable stir fry and noodles with chocolate covered strawberries for desert. 

“You did all this?” Alani muses. 

He takes each flute from her hand and fills them halfway. “It’s a special occasion,” 

“I feel like an asshole for not knowing what it is,”

“Don’t,” Harry chuckles, handing her the wine. “I mean it’s not really like—I just realized it,”

“What is it?”

Harry raises his glass and clears his throat. “Exactly three months ago, I got off a plane and I stumbled into a little café where the most beautiful and funny and smart waitress served me about twenty glasses of water until I nearly pissed my pants in front of her,”

Alani giggles at the memory, disbelief settling in when she considers how fast the time had flown. 

“And despite all of the embarrassing and idiotic things I’ve done since,” he continues. “She agreed to be my girlfriend, for reasons I have yet to understand. So today I celebrate her, and us, and all of lucky stars that brought our paths together,”

They clink their glasses together and Alani presses a cool kiss to his lips. “Cheers, baby,”

“There’s one more thing,” Harry says, holding a finger up. 

Alani scoffs. “It’s like fucking Pandora’s box in there!”

He pulls out a velvet box and her heart stops. 

“Wait, what are you—”

“It’s not what you think,” he explains quickly. “Sorry, maybe should’ve thought this through better,”

Harry opens the lid and lifts a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and a smaller sun in the center. 

“Saw it in a shop this morning,” he says softly. “Seemed like fate, so I got it,”

“Harry,” Alani breathes, eyes already glossy. 

“D’you like it?”

“I love it! It’s beautiful,” she says, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much.”

He fastens the necklace for her and she admires it with gentle fingers. The sun and the moon, a piece of them cast in gold and resting against her beating heart forever. 

********

Friday 

“Wow,” Harry gawks, his eyes raking in Alani’s appearance. A baby pink tulle dress falls just above her knee with puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, all cinched at the waist with a small bow. Tiny velvet hearts are speckled all over the dress, in true Alani fashion, and a pair of sparkling, pink heels accentuate her toned calves. 

“Wow yourself,” she counters, drinking in the peek of exposed skin behind his cream colored blazer. The blue dress shirt underneath is unbuttoned just above the butterfly on his stomach and a cross is nestled in the valley between his pecs. He holds out a bouquet of sunflowers between his ringed fingers and Alani accepts them gratefully, moving to the side so he can step into the house. 

“These are gorgeous, thank you,” she says, lifting them to her nose. 

“Welcome,” he smiles softly, swiping the pad of his thumb against her chin. “You are gorgeous,”

Alani presses her rose tinted lips to his carefully and pulls back to admire him again. “And you are so good looking it actually makes me mad.”

Harry laughs and pulls her closer for another sweet kiss before he hears the clearing of another person’s throat. 

“Have her back by midnight,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Or I’ll hunt you down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry salutes before bending down to address Freddie. 

Alani passes the sunflowers to her sister with a kiss to her cheek before hooking an arm under Harry’s and heading out. They hop into the convertible and the sun catches the golden pendant around her neck, bringing a soft smile to his face. 

“Hope those are your dancin’ shoes,” Harry remarks. “Cause we’re goin’ full Dirty Dancing tonight,”

“Lift and all?” 

“Lift and all,”

She runs her fingers over the silver rose on his ring finger.  “You know, I think we’re finally gonna nail it this time.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry agrees. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

When they arrive at Honu, the other guests are shuffling from the parking lot and onto the private beach where the reception will take place. Alani plucks a card from her bag to drop into the box at the entrance while Harry pulls a medium sized box from behind his seat. 

“You got a real gift?” Alani questions, a light laugh erupting. “We don’t even know these people,”

Harry tucks the gift under his arm and shrugs. “I put your name on it too, don’t worry,”

“Well now they’ll have a giftcard to Ikea and whatever’s in your mystery box.”

“It’s also a giftcard to Ikea, but wrapped in a big box.”

Alani nudges his shoulder playfully and scans the groups mingling and flocking to the mini bar. She waves to a member of her dad’s kitchen staff attending to the hors d’oeuvres before they are greeted by the manager of the guest list. 

“Alani and Harry,” she says to the tall woman behind the podium. 

“Ah yes,” the woman responds. “The Lovebirds table, number 9.”

“Guess Mila wasn’t joking about that.” Alani chuckles lightly, taking both of their name cards. 

Harry locates their table and to his surprise, no one else is present yet, but he pulls Alani’s chair out for her and pushes it back in once she’s seated. 

“Champagne?” he asks, nodding to the bar. 

“Oui, s'il vous plaît." 

He plants a kiss to the top of her head and makes his way to collect their drinks. Alani’s eyes follow the stringed lights overhead and she quickly realizes that they lead to a disco ball hanging above the center of the dance floor. Well done, Mila. She thinks to herself with an approving nod. The colors, she gathers, are lilac and periwinkle, incorporated into all of the floral arrangements and cloth details. They match the color of the sky above and Alani knows that the bride must be ecstatic over this detail. Harry returns with their drinks and sets them down gently onto the white tablecloth. 

“None of our fellow lovebirds have arrived yet, huh?” he muses, taking a sip of his champagne. 

Alani shakes her head and brings the glass to her lips. “Must be too busy making out in the parking lot,”

“You told me we didn’t have time for that.”

“I’m not gonna ruin my lipstick before we’ve even arrived.”

Harry shakes his fist to the sky and Alani giggles. They both admire the view and the children in the wedding party who are testing how close they can get to the water before an adult drags them away. The sky turns to a shade of cotton candy above them and someone announces that the bride and groom are arriving. Harry and Alani stand and welcome the newly weds with applause and whistles. Mila and Chad share a sweet kiss and the crowd goes wild. One man, most likely a friend of the groom, shouts “I love you Chad!” and laughter erupts. They take their seats and the rest of the wedding party follows suit, which means that the rest of the guests are free to return to their chatting and socializing. 

“I’m beginning to think we were put in the time out table.” Harry jokes when they are still not joined by any other guests. 

A light laugh escapes Alani’s lips and she looks around. “Yeah I guess so.”

The servers arrive with their meal and the pair eat happily, exchanging witty banter and observations of the scene around them. Harry sucks a piece of linguine between his lips and turns to Alani with a mischievous smirk. 

“No,” Alani says, already knowing what he’s up to. 

“Don’t leave me hangin’,”

 “Eat your food.”

“Alaniii,”

She shakes her head gently and rolls her eyes, but decides to indulge him anyway. Their lips meet in the middle of the shared noodle and Harry smiles. 

“Always wanted to try that.” 

A few moments later, he notices a card in the middle of the table and lifts it. 

“‘Trivia,’” he reads. “‘Test your knowledge of the bride and groom and win a prize.’ Let’s play, shall we?”

“What’s the first question?” Alani asks, peering over to read the small font. 

“‘What year did Mila and Chad meet?” 

Alani hums, thinking back to her previous conversation with the bride. “They met in law school, that’s all I know,”

“2009,” Harry guesses. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“Definitely Chad,” she replies firmly. “Mila didn’t think she’d ever get married,”

“I thought you said you didn’t know these people,”

“I guess I was wrong,”

Harry squints at the next one. “What are their zodiac signs?”

“I wanna say Virgo for Mila,” Alani suggests. “Maybe… Aquarius for Chad?”

“That’s my sign,” Harry comments, writing down her guesses. 

Alani’s brows raise. “No kidding. Makes a lot of sense,”

“What’s yours?”

“Taurus,”

“I don’t know anythin’ about astrology. Are we compatible?”

“Probably not,” Alani teases. 

Harry shoots her a disapproving look and reads the next question. “Where did they go on their first date?”

“The movies,” she predicts. “Safe bet,”

“‘Akaka Falls,” Harry writes. “That was ours,”

Alani’s head tilts. “We weren’t even dating then,”

“Yeah but I was tryin’ to win you over, so it counts,”

“Sneaky.”

“Who is the bride’s celebrity crush?” Harry continues. “Hopefully not James Marsden or this guy’s fucked.”

Alani laughs and she pulls him in for a playful kiss to his cheek. The pink sunset dims into a deep navy and the stringed lights twinkle above, setting the whole scene in a romantic, golden glow. Guests walk past their table holding strips of photo booth pictures and Harry’s neck cranes to search for the source. His eyes land on a small line at the other end of the beach and he stands quickly. 

“Let’s go,”

“Where?”

“Photo booth!”

To Alani’s surprise it’s an actual booth, curtains and all, and not just some poor sucker tasked with operating a polaroid camera the whole night. They stand in line eagerly behind two groomsmen and brainstorm poses. Once they’re inside, Alani settles onto Harry’s knee and watches as he operates the machine. The screen counts down from ten and they decide to flash a proper smile for the first one. After it’s snapped, Harry sticks his tongue out and Alani widens her eyes in mock surprise. The third one is a candid, slightly blurry one of them laughing after she accidentally poked him in the eye. A lipstick kiss is stamped to Harry’s cheek in the fourth one, but the pair innocently look away in opposite directions. The fifth and final image captures their affection mid kiss. They swipe the two sets of photos and Alani awes, admiring the black and white film strip. Before they make it back to their table, Alani feels a hand on her arm. 

“Alani!” Mila beams. 

“Hi!” Alani greets, pulling the bride into a hug. “You look gorgeous,”

“I’m so glad you came! I love your dress,”

Mila turns her attention towards Harry and gives him a warm embrace, too. “You must be Harry! So nice to meet you,”

“Thank you for having us!” he says over the music. 

“I see you guys put the photo booth to good use,” Mila comments. “Now go dance! There’s an ipad next to the stage, just queue up your songs.”

Alani and Harry bid the bride farewell, but before they leave, Mila leans into Alani’s ear and whispers “he’s a hottie!” with a wink. They set their photos down inside Alani’s purse and Harry leads her towards the dance floor. She punches in her request and he secretly types the song that’s been stuck in his head all week. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is already playing when they reach the floor, so they join in excitedly. Alani’s hips sway and Harry’s head bobs, both of them mouthing the lyrics. The song fades and Alani’s pick begins, which makes the crowd roar. 

“The people have spoken and they love Whitney!” she cheers. 

Harry twirls her and shuffles his feet. Alani shimmies and sings along, the lyrics falling from her lips like a prayer. 

I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody 

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody 

With somebody who loves me 

The dance floor is flooded with bodies jumping and swaying, and the disco ball shimmers above the euphoric scene. Alani and Harry spin, making their way through the crowd and letting the music sweep over them like a magical spell. Beads of sweat form at the back of her neck and she lifts her wavy locks to let the ocean breeze cool her down, but her feet don’t stop moving. Eventually, her song peters out and a familiar guitar fills its place. 

“I love this song!” Alani cries, immediately recognizing The Cure. 

Harry pulls her closer, despite the warmth radiating from both of their bodies, and presses a passionate kiss to her lips. They are surrounded on every side, but in this very moment under the full moon and shimmering disco ball, Harry and Alani feel like the only two people alive. Their foreheads meet and they sway gently, his hands secure at her waist while her fingers toy with the hair at the base of his neck. 

It’s Friday, I’m in love. 

[thecaptainhelm]

Every Tap of My Heart

Here’s a  valentine’s gift for @savagenutella46, whose a lovely person! Here’s my gift of writer love for a fellow maribat enthusiast, hope you have a wonderful day fit for a wonderful person. xoxo uwu [insert heart heart winky face heart eyes rose]

Thanks to the moderator @eat0crow for setting this up so nicely, ily all!

In a small office, one of the many in the college of liberal arts building, two people sat across from one another in an awkward manner. One, a rather tall, tan, and robust young man with a relaxed and loose posture, and the other, a much smaller brown, older gentleman, salt and peppered hair and frown lines around his mouth.

“Mr. Wetherby,” the young man said in greeting.

“Jonathan.” Mr. Wetherby deadpanned in return. There was a slight pause between the two before the older gentleman spoke again.

“Well, how are you progressing with your midterm project Jonathan? You were well ahead of your peers the last I observed. I trust you have maintained this pace?”

Jon grinned at this, rather than being intimidated by the scholarly demeanor of his professor. Many of his classmates were intimidated by Mr. Wetherby if not for his surprisingly deep voice, then for the juxtaposition of his gentle appearance and his strict teaching. He had only ever felt amused.

“Yes sir, everything is going well. I’ve already checked the business’s schedule and set a meeting with the owner to have a short interview. Everything is totally in order.”

Mr. Wetherby stoically gazed at Jon’s silly grin as they conversed and didn’t say anymore. He simply nodded, typed a few phrases in the computer and turned the screen to Jon. 

“Very good. With this the meeting is complete and you’ve received full marks for the student-teacher progress report. Have a nice day, Jonathan.”

“Right sir, thank you sir, you too sir,” Jon smiled, bright and goofy, unmoving from his seat.

Mr. Wetherby gained a slight tick near his temple.

“Mr. Kent.” The young man blinked, tilting his head with a look comparable to a puppy dog.

“Yes, Mr. Wetherby?”

“You may leave now,” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Have. A good. Day.”

“Right sir, of course sir!” Jon bounced up and carelessly packed his things away. “Have a good day sir!” He energetically left the room and before the remaining occupant could so much as sigh, Jon popped back in, dark hair flopping into his eyes.

“Oh yeah, are we still on for patrol or are you going to call in--”

“Beat it, Corncob!”

“Hahaha!” Jon cackled and dashed away to complete his assignment. Anyone who saw him would do a double take. It seemed as though he was gliding on air, though he wasn’t moving particularly fast. People shrugged and moved about their day, too busy to really care.

Jon Kent was just strange like that.

Sometime later in the evening, the tall and somewhat awkwardly bulky Jon Kent nervously shuffled his way through Metropolis, carefully moving around busy pedestrians and apologizing in a fluster when he didn’t move carefully enough. He knocked into one final person and sheepishly grinned at the irate grunt before arriving at his target location. La Bonne Fée.

The building was sizable, enough space for a backroom, restrooms, a cozy kitchen facility, counter, and booths for people to sit and relax, with enough space left over to not feel compact. The furnishings were all warm, comfortable and the decorations had a slight vintage feel from a  bygone era of classy etiquette and manners. Through the door he could clearly hear the music of an old school juke-box, playing a Jagged Stone album.

Jon had come to such a café to ask the owner for an interview for the school financial magazine’s new column dedicated to new and upcoming businesses.

Some would ask if Jon lost his touch, others if he was touched in the head. Why would he interview a brand new café, one not even a part of a chain, when they were practically all over the city selling the same thing as their competitors.

Jon swallowed hard, and knocked on the softwood door. He picked up a jumping pulse and saw though the window a head of dark hair quickly poke out from behind the counter. His palms had become sweaty and his own heart jumped in his chest when soft footsteps quickly paced to the door and was pulled open with a silent, breathless smile.

“Jon, hey!” Marinette Dupain-Cheng looked up at him with bright grey eyes, almost silver under the city lights and his heart really kicked into high gear then, only slightly less embarrassing when he heard her heart doing the same.

“Glad you could make it,” She nervously fixed the hem of her sweater and pulled her apron on straight.

“Me too,” He smiled at her and was fine getting lost on her eyes before she cleared her throat and held the door wider.

“Would you like to, um if you would--?”

“Oh right, yeah, yeah, yes please, um,” Jon gulped and grinned strangely. He walked in with small quick steps through the door, taking extra care to not bump into her and send the smaller woman three inches through the flooring. God, he wouldn’t ever live that down if that actually happened.

“Well, I’ll grab some refreshments while you set everything up. Be back in a bit,” Marinette grinned as she led him to a booth near the front, out of view of the windows and moved to the counter with a stiff gait. He sat, pulling out his notebook, his voice recorder, pencils and two copies of the agreed upon interview questions. He fiddled with the materials, trying to distract himself from Marinette’s sounds, her heartbeat, her slight hitches in breath as she moved, the sound her petite fingers made when rubbing against the foam cups, all to no avail.

Yes, that’s a suspicious amount of attention to a single, pretty young woman in the city, but he couldn’t help it. He pressed down on the indentation of his index finger, reveling in the simultaneous sensations of hearing and feeling her heartbeat in person.

He couldn’t help it because she was his soulmate.

Jon’s soulmate mark was one he had from birth, thought to be a deformity but what was actually a touch based soul mark. Pressing it would allow him to feel the pulse and heartbeat of his soulmate, so long as they were alive in this life. The doctors had actually thought there might be a twin or a second heart while he was in the womb, but an x-ray via Superman showed that he was a  lone healthy baby. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a small, triracial young woman, with delicate features, a barely noticeable spread of freckles across a small nose and round grey eyes that turned into happy crescents when she beamed wide and unrestrained. This was all he knew about her, from their brief interactions while they set up the interview, all skin deep and superficial knowledge that he wanted to get past. 

This was his soulmate and he knew he shouldn’t rush, but there were so many things that she would have to know about him, things he shouldn’t and couldn’t hide from her, at least not forever, but how was he going to bring up being a superhero? No, wait, how was he going to bring up being half extraterrestrial?! She’d freak!

He tried to relax. He only found out the Marinette was his soulmate when he asked if she would let him interview her and couldn’t help but compare her heart rate to the one on his finger, further panicking when he saw her press her fingertips together in glee and saw the imprint of his finger upon her own. From there he saw that her index finger would snugly fit the imprint on his and he knew it, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his soulmate, that special person the universe found matched perfectly to him in every way that counted. He’d studied and pressed and listened to this heartbeat, wanting to press his head against her back to study and listen in the flesh for years, all before he knew who she was and that she was his and he was hers.

He pressed on it as she walked back to their booth, watching and smiling as she relaxed somewhat, lightly stroking her thumb along her finger as she set the tray of cookies and coffea, the cafe’s specialty fusion drink.

“Sorry for the wait,” She neatly placed the cookies between them after setting down their drinks. He watched the quick and graceful way she tucked the tray into her seat beside her before sending him a dazzling grin that briefly scrambled his brain.

He gaped before managing to stutter out a lame “no trouble” and Marinette merely grinned, cheeks pink. He could dually understand her heart at this time and couldn’t help becoming more flustered. His dumb brain was making him think Marinette had a crush on him, when she was probably just nervous and excited for the interview.

Yeah, that’s all there is to it, nothing more to it at all, he told himself while watching her cheeks darken. 

It wasn’t anything more.

“Well, here’s to a good interview?” Marinette nervously giggled as she raised her cup and Jon did the same without a second thought, only realizing his mistake when she saw his soulmark and paled, honing in like a bat out of hell. He tensed trying to think of an excuse or a lie or something to say but he was stuck. Hope clogged his throat and desire pressed down his tongue.

“You have a soulmark?” She asked after a lengthy pause.

“Y-yes, I do.” His voice cracked from bad nerves and excitement.

“I do too. Touch based.” Her eyes pierced through his soul and pinned him on the spot. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

“Cool. Super cool! I have one too, touch based like yours, yep! Cool!” Jon bobbed his head fervently, searching her gaze and found that she seemed to have the same idea as him. Her hand stretched to the middle of the table and waited for him to meet her in the middle. When he reached, slow and steady, it exposed the subtle quaking of his hand, revealing his inner feelings. He was comforted by the fact that her hand was shaking across from him too. It was a relief she felt the same.

Finally, the fingers touched, a small pale finger tapping two knuckles against the back of his. His shoulders tensed, Marinette mirroring him beat for beat as shoulder collapsed in devastation.

If Jon had thought that feeling Marinette’s heartbeat secondhand was an amazing feeling, then all the wonders of the accumulated sensation were nothing compared to this one touch. The pure physical sensation of another being pulsed through him, the echoing din that had been with him unnoticed all this time becoming known as he melted into himself, feeling it destroy him gently and lovingly.

“Wow,” Marinette breathed shakily. “Wow, I’ve, I never thought,”--an incredulous laugh-- “That was…”

She trailed off taking in his enraptured expression.

“Yeah, me too.” He grinned in wonder. His eyes bored into her own, falling deeper into her spell.

They stared at each other before Marinette finally broke the silence.

“Bonsoir.” She extended her other hand, unwilling to break contact.

“Hi.” He firmly grasped it, giving a strong shake. “Jonathan Kent, miss. Pleased to meet you.”

Marinette smiled beatifically. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The pleasure is all mine, Jon.”

The End

[deejadabbles]

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Five: Hello, My Old Heart

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// Five /// (Six coming soon) ///

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

You could visibly see the poor young man swallowing hard as he settled in the seat across from you and the rest of your bandmates. Try as you might to make the setting casual (cushy chairs instead of a desk, offers of soda and chips, greeting him with an ‘what’s up, my dude?’, etc.) Atem still seemed rather nervous. Not that you blamed him, you distinctly remember Honda making a joke about “oh yeah, ask the dude to come to our secluded studio by himself to meet five strangers, that’s not creepy or anything” when Yugi told you guys how he had invited the man to meet with the rest of you.

“So, Yugi said that you write songs as a hobby?” Anzu began, giving him the warmest smile she could, an effort to ease Atem’s mood.

He nodded, then started unclasping the latch on his leather messenger bag, “That’s right, I’ll admit, I don’t have too many that are finished, but that’s mostly due to boredom and moving on to a new idea, not lack of inspiration.” He then pulled out some papers divided by paperclips. “Here are the songs I think best represent my usual work, the work that’s easiest for me to write as well as what I would prefer to put out there.”

Honda grabbed the small stack and passed out songs to each of you. A bit of an awkward silence fell as you all started reading the various lyrics, but not even that could tarnish how impressed you were with the ones you were reading. Poetic, but not too over the top or pretentious, nice. You glanced up at the others, nodding your head with an impressed smile before switching papers with Yugi to look over another example (you also didn’t miss the way Yugi beamed at you). Now this song struck you, after only reading the first verse you could already hear the beginnings of a beat and chords you could put with the lyrics.

“Yugi also said you have a killer voice,” you said, shifting your eyes from the page to peer up at him.

He gave a cute little cough, “Uh, yes, I suppose I’m not a bad singer.”

You had to actively keep your mind from gushing over how sweet he was. The dude looked like a typical adonis hottie, but his shy outer demeanor just added an extra layer to him. He was wearing something more stylish than the few tabloid pics you’d seen: a long-sleeved black shirt with a silky maroon and gold vest, accessorized with a few rings, bangles, necklaces, and a pair of gold dangling earrings.

You shook the wandering thoughts on his attractiveness away; this was for business, not pleasure. “I was just wondering if you’d mind singing one of the songs for us, that way we can get a feel for the melody you had in mind.”

Again, Atem seemed to swallow something in this throat as a hand reached up to briefly play with one of the flat triangles dripping from his ears. “I suppose I could do that, but, do you mind if I play my violin with it? I’ll find it easier to sing with some music.”

“Of course,” you waved an eager hand, egging him on before handing him back the music sheet in your hand.

His eyes scanned the pages, reminding himself of what song it was before nodding his head and reaching down to the instrument case beside the armchair. Jonouchi had made a comment about Atem carrying his violin everywhere, trying to set a joking mood, but it just caused a flushed Atem to mumble about how he had just picked it up from getting its weekly tuning.

Once Atem was standing, violin in hand, he took a deep breath to collect himself. Then, after two slow heartbeats, he began to play.

The first note was a sorrowful one, long, like a quiet, mournful hum, his slender fingers pulsing to create a wave effect on the sound. Then he was singing. His tone came out like a deep, almost breathy moan, letting the lyrics flow like a story at first- before his tone rose and belted out the chorus.

Atem was captivating, pulling you in with every line, every inflection, making you want to hold your breath lest the sound of it distract from the song. He kept his eyes closed, lost in the music his hands and mouth crafted, and the longer the song went on the more he seemed to relax, to lean into his own notes.

You blinked suddenly, realizing that your mouth had been hanging open just in time to close it before Atem ended his performance on another soaring note and breathy lyric. He stayed like that for a moment, catching his breath, basking in the lingering sound of his song.

Finally, his eyes blinked open and shifted to gauge everyone’s reaction. You weren’t the only one left in awe.

“Holy shit,” Honda breathed.

Yugi’s beaming smile was at maximum sunshine as he leaned into you and whispered, “That’s the song I heard him sing at the theatre, isn’t it beautiful?!”

You nodded and opened your mouth to say something but Anzu beat you to it.

“Can you do that again?” she asked, eager, as she jumped up and walked to her keyboard.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you asked, also bouncing to your feet and joining her.

Anzu smiled back at you, “Keeping that longer intro and adding keys to it?”

“Yes!” you turned to Jonouchi- who was still staring at Atem like he didn’t quite believe the man was standing there. “Jou, add some drums? Something steady and subtle at first, drawing everyone in before the lyrics start and-”

“-and picking up when the chorus kicks in?” he finished, snapping to attention in an instant, “You got it!”

With that Jonouchi vaulted off the back of the couch, plopping onto the stool at his drum set. Atem was still standing there, now looking a bit bewildered and amused as he watched everyone get to work, perhaps some pride shining in his eyes that his music had inspired it.

“Atem?” you asked, tone gentle and drawing his attention back to you, “Can you play that again?” you repeated Anzu’s question, seeing as how she was fully engrossed in her keys now.

Again, the man seemed hesitant, “Shouldn’t you be taking over, you’re the lead singer after all.”

“Dude, we have to keep that violin track,” you insisted, finding your voice breathy as you pointed at Atem, “It’s perfect for the song, it’s deep and beautiful and-” speechless, you gave an exaggerated chef’s kiss to emphasize just how much you meant what you were touting.

The expression earned you a smile from the violinist, a hint of bashfulness mixing with the fresh and rising pride. “Alright, if you think it will improve the song.” With that, Atem lifted his violin, took another deep breath, and started the song again.

***

It was strange how no hands had officially shaken, no one even told Atem he was hired, but that session was immediately followed up by the band asking when his next free day was and asking him to come back for another practice session. Atem had never intended on actually playing with the band, but, when they acted so enthralled with his playing, he could hardly say no.

The next time they got together (almost a week after their first meeting) Atem found himself just as nervous as when he first met them. Parking outside their studio, he found his chest heating up with some anxiety. Atem never was good around people, after all.

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

Are you still there inside my chest?

He rubbed his hands against the steering wheel, letting out a long breath and holding it a moment, before making himself grab his violin case and climb out of the car. His feet crunching on the gravel driveway grounded him a bit and he had managed to calm down slightly before knocking on the studio door.

I've been so worried, you've been so still

Barely beating at all

He heard the sound of laughter coming closer on the other side of the door and a moment later it opened, revealing you in the doorway and more laughter echoing yours in the next room.

“Atem, there you are! Come on in,” you stepped aside and waved an inviting arm.

Atem felt the heat in his chest climb up his neck, “Sorry, am I late?”

“Huh?” You then waved your hand again as you shut the door behind him, “Oh no don’t worry, we just got here early, that’s all.”

He heard someone else call his name before he even got to the room where everyone was sitting, and by the time he did enter, the whole band was waving and greeting him. He cleared his throat before nodding back to everyone and saying a weak ‘hello’ before you spoke again.

“Come on, sit down and chill for a bit before we get started,” you waved at a beat-up arm chair even as you perched on its armrest.

Atem realized with a quick look around that there was nowhere better for you to sit and you were likely offering him your own seat. “Oh, that’s alright, I don’t want to steal your seat-”

Before his offer to sit on the floor was out, you shook your head, “Dude, we can’t have our muse sitting in a creaky fold-up chair, at least sit on the other arm so I don’t topple it!” You laughed again as Honda made some comment about how a topple would probably bust the thing in half.

His cheeks were hot now, but he took the offer with grace (or at least, as much grace as he could muster) and perched himself on the other armrest, setting his violin on the actual seat. Atem also remembered how last time, he had been offered the armchair while Anzu took the creaky fold-up chair. Everyone here really seemed to care about making him comfortable.

Hello, my old heart

It's been so long

Since I've given you away

When was the last time he met anyone who had greeted him with such...openness? Such compassion. And a whole group of someones at that...

He cleared his throat again, trying to draw himself out of his wandering thoughts. “So, are we just going to work out more of the music today?”

And every day, I add another stone

To the walls I built around you

To keep you safe

Everyone seemed to respect his want to get down to business, perhaps thinking that he had other engagements, and only chit-chatted for a handful of minutes, before getting down to their rehearsal. It went well, just as the previous session had, and Atem found himself in awe of how well the creative process of making notes together flowed. Just like that first day, everyone seemed to work off of each other so well, bounding ideas left and right, almost always being on the same page. Even when they weren’t, there were just a few goodhearted jabs and sighs before working everything out.

Again Atem found himself shaking his thoughts away. He really should stop, it wasn’t wise to get attached to this process, these sessions, these people. After all, he was just their ghostwriter, nothing more.

Oh, don't leave me here alone

Don't tell me that we've grown

For having loved a little while

He found himself smiling again despite himself, when you started throwing popcorn kernels at Jonouchi; retribution for a comment about how you needed to change the chords up in the third chorus.

“I’m not changing it,” you said with your tongue sticking out, all while Jou looked affronted at your kernel bombing. “It’s a steady beat, that’s the whole point! Right, Atem?”

At the sound of his name, Atem’s eyes went wide, “Uh- What?”

“Eh, don’t drag him to your side!” Jonouchi pouted, tossing some popcorn from his lap back in your direction.

“I’m not dragging, I’m asking his opinion, there’s a difference,” you said matter of factly, then turned back to Atem, who was sweating a bit now, “What do you think, Atem? Are the same chords during the third chorus too boring? Or does it fit the subtle, powerful nature of the song?”

“You’re leading his answer!” Jonouchi countered, again looking appalled, then squawking as you tossed more popcorn at him.

Atem was a bit distracted by the way Honda kept laughing as Jou picked kernels out of his shirt, but eventually he managed to swallow thickly and answer your question. “I actually like the way you have it now, if I’m being honest.”

You beamed at him, stuck your tongue out at Jonouchi in victory, then held the popcorn bowl out to Atem. “Thank you, my muse! Here, have some brain food.”

His face was heating up again at nickname- or, dare he say, endearment? However, even as he blushed, and took a handful of popcorn, he couldn’t keep that smile from making yet another appearance.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

When everyone called the day's session to an end, Atem tried not to feel...disappointed. Stop that , he told himself again, this was not something to get attached to. As everyone packed their notes away, Honda started asking about dinner.

“Heeey if I give you a ride to work, think you can get me a discount on nachos again?” he asked, turning to you with an eyebrow wiggle.

You scoffed, “Dude, the boss was barely okay with that one time I did it, I can’t convince her again. But I can just buy your nachos if you really want.”

“Where do you work?” Atem found himself asking, far too late to stop himself from getting involved.

“Oh- ever heard of The Mark? It’s a bar downtown.”

Atem shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. Admittedly, the only bar he had been in since college was the high-end one in his apartment building.

You didn’t seem to take notice of his embarrassment though and just shrugged, “It’s only popular to a certain crowd. Anyway,” you continued, turning back to Honda, “give me a ride and I’ll buy you nachos.”

“Okay, all this talk of nachos has me hungry,” Jonouchi groaned, “Let’s go with em, Yug.”

Anzu perked up at that, nodding to you as she said, “You know, I’ve really been craving your specialty daiquiris. Jou, got room in your truck for me?”

“Sure,” the drummer shrugged as everyone started milling towards the door.

Yugi was smiling brightly as he held the door open for everyone, “Guess it’s a band outing now! Atem, you want to join? You can follow us to the bar, it isn’t far.”

As his feet were once again crunching on the gravel drive, Atem had to stop. He looked back to the group, ready to see at least one of them giving an uneasy expression at the invitation, if not an outright protest.

Instead, he saw Anzu nodding her head eagerly while Honda locked up the studio. Neither you nor Jonouchi looked wary of the suggestion and instead just looked to him for an answer.

You must have thought he needed further prompting, because you said, “Hey, our ‘girls night’ plate of nachos is more than big enough for all of you.”

Atem had to swallow another something in his throat. All of you were already inviting him out for drinks?

Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

“I- sorry, I have to get up early in the morning. Thank you, though.” Atem could only cast his eyes to the ground during the half-lie.

How is it being locked away?

He saw something flicker in Yugi’s eyes, but he was quick to hide it with a smile. “Okay, maybe next time.”

Your smile matched Yugi’s as everyone headed to Jou’s truck and Honda’s bike, “Have a good night, Atem.”

Don't you worry, in there you're safe

“See you next week,” Anzu waved.

All he could manage was a nod as he turned towards his own car.

And it's true, you'll never beat

But you'll never break

It only took one more session to get the rest of the music figured out, and then it was time to record. Atem was interested in the process, how the five of you set up the sound equipment, what programs you used, he even asked you how you had installed padding to improve the sound quality.

The video part of the recording would be left for later, right now it was just the song to worry about- though you did make a point to tell Atem that you wanted to discuss setting ideas for the video soon. Atem felt his heart swell a bit at that. Not that he wanted to admit it, but he was glad that you wanted to involve him in every step of the song. This song in particular, this first one that had so enthralled Yugi first, was likely one of the more personal ones Atem had written.

Your voice rose with the chorus, fingers dancing gracefully against the bridge of the guitar, and Atem found himself admiring how well suited your voice was to his lyrics. A perfect fit. Though you likely had no way of knowing the background behind this song or why Atem had written it, you belted the lyrics with passion and depth, cared for every bar as if you were singing from the depths of your heart.

Maybe you were. Music spoke to more than just those who wrote it, perhaps not in the same ways, but that hardly mattered.

He heard the way the ending lyric stole your breath, and his violin hummed its final note with you in a harmony Atem had admired a dozen times during these rehearsals. When the last note ended, everyone waited a moment, seeming to hold their breaths, before daring to move. When everyone did, Jonouchi was already bounding over to the computer hooked up to the recording mics. With a few clicks and a quick look over something on the screen, the blonde gave a clap of his hands.

“We got it! That should be all we need for a high quality recording.”

Everyone cheered or hooted at that, and Yugi made a comment about finally having something new to give their fans. Atem was smiling with the rest of them, but he was failing to ignore the way his chest ached just a bit. The song was done, and, unless they asked him to join them on stage, Atem supposed this was the last time he would play with the band.

Writing songs for them was all nice in of itself, but, despite all his personal warnings not to, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown a bit attached to these evenings and nights with the band.

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

A sudden call of his name had Atem jolting back to the present, and he saw you standing beside him, a hint of concern creasing your brow. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-” he cleared his throat, “-yes, I’m alright,” he lied, just as he had lied to deny himself the after-work drinks weeks ago. “I was just thinking, we got so caught up in recording this song, that none of you got the chance to discuss if any others were to your liking.”

“What, any of your other songs?” Honda asked, and when Atem nodded, he literally waved the comment off, “Dude, I’m pretty sure we liked all the examples you gave us, right guys?”

“Definitely!” Yugi didn’t miss the chance to boost Atem’s ego (or rather, soothe any worries). “We actually looked over your other songs the other day, and all of us agree we want to record all of them. I told you you were a perfect fit for us!”

The words, as well as the wink Yugi gave, did make Atem smile, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the root of his woe. “I’m glad they fit with the band so well. If you want to know the melodies or themes I had in mind for any of the other songs as well, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

That seemed to give everyone pause.

Nothing lasts forever

Atem watched as they began giving each other looks, very pointed looks, in turns, and he couldn’t ignore the sinking sensation in his chest. They seemed to silently agree on something a moment later, because Anzu spoke up as her eyes turned back to Atem.

“Actually, we were talking about that a lot too…”

Some things aren't meant to be

Atem swallowed hard, heart starting to pound in his ears. Perhaps he wasn’t good enough, perhaps they thought him too pretentious, or maybe he had overstepped the boundaries of his role here, maybe he and his violin didn’t-

“How would you feel about joining the band for the whole album?”

But you'll never find the answers

Until you set your old heart free

Again, your voice put a break on Atem’s reeling thoughts, and he had to blink to collect himself again. “I- you mean, you want me to play for the other songs as well?”

More looks were exchanged, quick ones this time, before Yugi chimed in next. “We talked it over a lot the past week and we all agree that you gel with us pretty well! And not only that, but your violin really adds a lot to our music, we’d really love for you to record more songs with us, not just write them.”

Until you set your old heart free

Now Atem’s heart was pounding in his ears for a whole other reason. He almost wanted to smack himself when he felt the widest, most giddy grin he ever remembered smiling spread across his face.

“I would like that very much,” he said, cheeks going a bit warm when everyone was returning his smile.

Hello, my old heart

“So what are we waitin’ for?” Jonouchi jumped in, all enthusiasm and eagerness, “What song are we doing next?”

That sparked conversation, and everyone started chiming in with their votes almost immediately, Yugi and Anzu even digging out Atem’s sheet music for references. Atem could only take the scene in with a smile that was widening the more he watched them bicker good-heartedly.

And he was glad he had gotten attached to this process, these sessions, to these people.

I wanna share it with you

[harryssunflowerkiwi]

‘KIWI’ Part 2.

Pairing: Harry Styles x female reader.

Synopsis: You see Harry again. he’s still smitten and you’re horny.

Word count: 8.1K

Warnings: swearing, drinking, drugs (cocaine; mentioned in some detail), and SMUT (unprotected! Wrap it up pls), and slight pain kink. 18+

A/N: Hello! I hope you’re doing good :) here’s part two!!! Yay!! Thank you to those who liked part one. I truly am having so much fun writing this. Sorry it took me 80000 years to post this, I took a break! But it’s here and I’m so happy. Also, this is my first time writing smut! So please be nice but let me know what you think. Again, please keep in mind that this is PURE FICTION and is in no way an accurate dipiction of Harry Styles! It’s just for entertainment purposes. Also! For the purpose of the story, please pretend kiwi was not part of HS1 and instead part of his third (unwritten) album :) With that being said, i hope you love this part as much as I do xoxo

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT :)

🥝 Outfits mentioned in this part 🥝

Words underlined are links !

PART 1

——————————————————————————

September 12th 2020~

It’s nine days since Harry had met you, nine long days. For him the days since have been filled with long studio hours and sleepless nights. Every night he’d come home and wonder when he’d get the chance to meet you again, he’d think about what you were doing and if you were thinking about him as much as he’d been thinking about you. Surely you hadn’t, he thought. If you had been interested you would have given him your phone number, like all the other girls had jumped at the chance to do. He tried to stay humble, but he wasn’t oblivious to the effect he had on women. It was obvious, atleast it always had been before. They all threw themselves at him, but you didn’t. You didn’t even give him a proper excuse to why he couldn’t have your number. You showed him very little interest and yet, here he was completely infatuated after one simple meeting. Sure, meeting you gave him enough inspiration to write songs which was initially the reason he went to that party. But it only left him wanting to do whatever he could to get the chance to see you again.

The days since the party have been rather stress filled for you on the other hand. With London fashion week coming up in less than a week you had so much work to do. You had a fashion show on the seventeenth to prepare for and dozens of custom outfits for various celebrities to finalize. It was both exhausting and exhilarating. You had thought about Harry, he’d pop up in your head whenever a song of his would play in the office or in the coffee shop you went to almost everyday. You felt the spark when you two had met, of course you did. He was incredibly attractive, charming, and kind but you didn’t have time to be dating a celebrity of his stature. You have a buisness to run and the last thing you need a bunch of insanely nosey fans bullying you along with the heartbreak of the inevitable break up.

Harry was sitting in the studio with Mitch, Sarah, and Charlotte recording. The three of his band mates were in the booth recording their respective parts of a song Harry had written a few months back called “30,000 miles” while Harry was sat on one of the black leather couches just outside the booth attempting to write. Although he’s been able to write a lot about you, he’s only gotten one song even remotely close to being finished. Most of what’s he’s writin since meeting you has come out more like journal entries about how your eyes made him quiver and how when you hugged him he felt like your touch was exactly what he’d been missing thus far. It all sounded like a horny fourteen year old, Harry thought. He needed to see you again for his feelings to repourpose themselves into more coherent emotions. Harry had been wracking his brain on how to make that happen since the two of you met, and the only thing he could think of was to ask Jeff. The only problem with that, however, was that Jeff would more than likely tell you and make Harry look desperate. And even though he was bordering on desperate, he certainly didn’t want you to know that.

Harry was lost in thought (about you of course) when Mitch came out of the booth and sat in the dark blue velvet armchair directly across from Harry. “Still having trouble dude?” He asked sympathetically bringing Harry out of his little trance. Harry sighed and moved his gaze away from the small leather bound notebook he was writing in to focus on his friend.

“S’ just hard man. S’neva been this hard before.” Harry said as he closed the book.

Mitch nodded and mumbled “it’s probably because you’ve never been single while tryna write”. Harry put his palms over his face and let out deep chuckle.

“Fuck, you’ve go’ a good point” he agreed as he sat lower into the couch.

“Are you interested in anyone at all right now? I mean I don’t think I’ve seen ya single for this long in forever” Mitch pointed out as he reached for his water bottle from beside the sound board. Harry sighed deeply, ran his right hand through his curls and gave Mitch a little pout.

“Who is she dude?” Mitch asks with after letting out a loud laugh at his friend being overly dramatic.

“Y’ remember y/n? The designer fo’ KIWI?” Harry responds, leaning forward and rests his left palm under his chin.

“Fuckin hell H. Wasn’t that night the first time you met her?” Mitch says with a grin, obviously teasing Harry.

“I know, I know. S’fuckin ridiculous but I can’ stop thinking about her” Harry replied as he slouched himself back into the couch shoved his black raybans off the top of his head so they were sitting on his nose, covering his embassment.

September 13th 2020~

Today is Sunday, which means it’s Harry’s day off. He didn’t really know what to do with the day but he was still extremely happy to have time to relax and try (and fail) to not worry about everything. He woke up at ten this morning, actually allowing himself to sleep in to make up for the various all nighters he had been pulling throughout the last week. He dreamt of you but not in the way he’d want, not one of those erotic sex dreams where he could make all his needs come true. No. In his dream you were with someone else, and he kept trying to talk to you but you couldn’t hear him or you were simply ignoring him. Either way it didn’t feel good but for some ungodly reason he’d still woken up with a raging boner. “Fuckin ‘ell even the thought of her wit’ someone else gets me off” he grumbled with a groan in frustration as he rolled out of bed.

As Harry was making himself breakfast, chopping yellow grape tomatoes on the large oak cutting board that sat on the marble counter next to the stove, he heard his phone ring. He looked around to try and spot where the ringing was coming from as he’d forgotten where he’d put it. He spotted it on the island behind him and to his left. He sprinted over to it and quickly answered with his left hand, wiping the tomato juice off the fingers on his right hand off on his blue sweatpants. “Harry here” he said realizing he hadn’t checked to see who it was before answering.

“Harry! I’ve got great news for you mate” Mitch’s deep American accent rang through the phone.

“Wha’ is the good news Mitch?” Harry asked as he sat at one of the light blue quilted stools that sat at the island, suddenly feeling slightly anxious.

“I’ve just found out KIWI is doing a show for London fashion week, it’s this Thursday” Harry could practically hear the grin on Mitch’s face through his voice. A fashion show? How could he get an invite four days before the show? Would he even get the chance to see her if he did? Won’t she be busy? Won’t she think he’s weird for going? Harry’s mind was filled with questions he knew Mitch wouldn’t have the answers to.

“Dude?” Mitch’s voice snapped Harry out of his panicked thoughts.

“Gotta go man, thanks for telling me” Harry mumbled before hanging up quickly.

After a few hours of debating with himself and trying tirelessly to forget about the idea all together, Harry found himself sat at his dining table with his phone open to Jeff’s contact. He stared down at the phone resting against the mahogany wood dining table trying to convince himself this was a bad idea. However, his efforts were in vain in the end. He glanced at the time in the right hand corner and it showed 12:41AM. He pressed the call button so quickly he himself even doubted if he’d done it at all, but evidently the calling screen came up and he brought it to his ear. Letting out a huge sigh at the forth ring, figering Jeff wouldn’t even pick up at this time of night. “Hello?” Harry almost dropped the phone when he’d heard Jeff’s voice on the other end.

“Um h-hello, Jeff s’ Harry” he stuttered slightly, still not really believing he was going through with this.

“Yeah H, I know. What’s up?” Jeff chuckled loudly.

“Oh umm so you uh know y/n right?” Harry asked trying not to seem to eager.

Again, Jeff laughed a bit before saying “you like her don’t you?”. Harry groaned internally at his friends ability to gudge his feelings based on his voice alone.

“Doesn’ matter, was jus’ callin’ to see if you could get meh a seat at the KIWI show on Thursday” Harry said as more of a statement rather than a question, feeling his confidence peak its head again.

“H, that’s in four days” Jeff responded without hesitation.

“Yeh I know, I jus’ ave’ to be there alrigh’?” Harry asked as politely as he could without making it obvious he was trying desperately to avoid any further questioning.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do”.

September 14th 2020~

Today was incredibly busy for you. There were only three days till your show and you still had so much to do to make sure it would be perfect. You were currently at the office that you rent out for KIWI. The space is nice, modern and open with a slightly acclectic feel to match your taste. There were 3 separated offices, the smallest was for your assistant Grace, another for the head of public relations for the company who’s name is Gretchen, and the largest one at the end of the hall was yours. You decorated nicely, but kept it minimal as to not cause to many distractions. You only came in when there was issues you couldn’t deal with from home or when you just felt like getting out of the house to work. You liked to keep your company small, only hiring people who you really trust for jobs you couldn’t handle yourself. Even though KIWI is incredibly successful, you were generally able to manage it with little help.

At 7:13AM you arrived, greeting Grace and heading straight to your private office telling her to follow you. Once sat in your large brown leather chair Grace started giving you the rundown of who’s called, what there is to do, shipments, etc. “Jeff Azoff called early this morning, he left a voicemail asking for your availability. I told him to call back at 11 just before you go out for lunch as that is your earliest availability today” she relayed as she stood nervously (she was pretty much always nervous, even though she’d been working for you for over two years).

“Okay, did he mention what it was about?” You asked wondering what he could possibly need that he wouldn’t just call your cell.

“No, but he did say it’s urgent” Grace responded with a small nod.

At a quarter to eleven your desk phone rang, you picked up at the first ring already sitting right next to it typing out an email on your laptop. “Mr. Azoff on line 2” Grace said on the other side.

“Great, thanks Grace” you responded before hanging up and switching to line two. “Hey Jeff” you said as you closed your laptop.

“Hi! How’s it going y/n, haven’t talked since the party” he asked seeming quite cheery.

“I’m good Jeff, why are you calling through KIWI? Why not just call my cell?” You questioned rather confused.

“Ah because you told me not to call your cell for matters concerning KIWI-” he said as if it was obvious.

“Right, but you you’ve only ever called regarding KIWI to get pieces for one of your clients and you usually go through Gretchen” you cut him off, still extremely confused.

He chuckled before saying “Well If you’d stop cutting me off I’d tell you why I’m calling. I need a front row seat for your show on Thursday”. Well, that was certainly not what you thought he’d say. He’s never asked for a seat at one of your shows, let alone a front row three days before it happens.

“What? Are you insane? It’s in three days. Why on earth would you need a front row seat?” You asked, now even more confused.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Harry. C’mon I know you can bump someone back a bit, it’ll be good publicity having him there” Jeff said calmly. You had to do a bit of a double take when he mentioned Harry’s name, why would Jeff need him to be there this last minute? He had surely already been invited to the Gucci show on the same day. You sighed

“I don’t know, the people I put in front row deserve to be there. Any of them would take it as an insult to be put in second row”. You heard hum quietly on the other side of the phone

“y/n if you put Harry upfront it’ll be good for KIWI, you know I’m right” he continued. You let out a frustrated huff, you knew he was right. The paps would have a field day with him missing the Gucci show to come to yours, but you already had so much to deal with.

“Was this your idea or his?” You asked, genuinely curious. “He asked me to, but I think it’s an incredible idea for both of you” he said confidently.

“Fine, call Grace to set up the details. I’ll have an outfit sent to Harry by Wednesday morning just email me his measurements. He can’t be showing up to my show in Gucci” you replied sternly, giving in.

Harry was at the studio when Jeff called him. He was going over some adjustments for ‘30,000 miles’ with Kid Harpoon when his phone rang. “Jeff! Any news?” He said hopefully after picking up as soon as he was Jeff’s contact.

Jeff chuckled at the boys eagerness “Mhm you’re lucky I’m so good at convincing people, you’ve got a front row seat at the KIWI fashion show this Thursday” he said proudly.

Harry stood out of the leather rolling chair instantly and yelled “Wooooo!” Slightly starting Kid and causing Jeff to laugh through the phone.

“I’m glad I could get it for ya H. They are sending over an outfit for you to wear and I’ll have a car at your place on Thursday at 6PM sharp to pick you up.” Harry smiled widely, taking in the information as he sat back down.

“Thank ya’ Jeff, y’ the best manager eva’”

September 17th 2020~

Today is the big day. Of course it’s not your first runway show but the nerves never lessen, every time it gets more intense and nerve-racking. The cloths you design are your heart and soul, your blood sweat and tears, your everything. This makes showing them off to critics and the entire world terrifying but exciting. Not to mention you’ve decided to walk as the last model for the finale, which makes the whole thing even scarier as you’ve never really walked a runway as a model.

For some reason the knowledge that Harry was going to be front row made you all the more anxious and you hated it. No man has ever made you nervous at your own damn fashion show, it’s rediculous. “I don’t even like him” you said aloud to yourself as you were in the car on the way to the venue. Luckily by now your driver knows well enough to keep his mouth shut when you talk to yourself.

Once you arrived at the venue it was half past two. You always show up hours before the show to help set up, get all the outfits in place for the respective models and make sure everything is absolutely perfect. You’d spent months designing the way you wanted the show to look, clothing aside. The catwalk is all white, ensuring that all the colors included in the collection pop as they were meant to, especially once photographed. Above the runway are large fixtures that are meant to look like clouds, giving the whole collection an airy out-of-this-world feel. Which is exactly what you had planned when designing it.

Backstage was hectic and stressful, as it always was. The models all arrived at three, giving everyone enough time to get hair and makeup done in time for the show. The makeup and hair you had chosen for this collection was simple, yet bold. Nothing to extreme to not take away from the clothes.

Harry was incredibly excited for the show, more excited than he had been for a fashion show since the first one he attended. He was there to see you, but he was also elated to get to see the collection. He’s never been disappointed by the pieces you’d designed. Even before his newfound crush on you. You were exceedingly talented and fantastic at what you do, he’s known that since long before he met you. The suit you’d sent for him was breathtaking to say the least. He absolutely adored it. It was a black suit, with gold lining and silver flower embroidery all along the jacket. It made him feel like a billion dollars.

Harry arrived just before the show started, not to seem to eager in case you came to survey the venue before it started. He found the seat with his name on it and grinned widely as he sat. His seat was right at the end of the runway where the models would turn before walking back. It was the ideal spot really, and it gave him butterflies thinking that you gave him the best spot. The venue was nothing like he’d ever seen before and he was sure you had something to do with that also, because it was breathtaking.

Time went by like a blink of the eye for you, what seemed like twenty minutes turned out to be an hour. You were ushered to the hair and makeup chair to prepare for the finale. For some reason all your nerves had dissipated, completely vanished into thin air as you sat and listened to the makeup artist compliment you on how incredible everything looked.

After forty minutes in the hair and makeup chair you were being dressed. You had chosen one of the only gowns in the collection for the finale, wanting to go out on a memorable note (even though you considered every piece in the collection to be memorable). The gown was a floor length fully hand embroidered black and gold gown. Each embroidery was done by you. It had long sleeves with the same detailing and it was sinched perfectly around your waist with a large solid gold plate. The gown was the piece that inspired the whole collection, taking almost six months to make. You were very proud of it and you felt incredibly sexy.

As your stylists were putting you in your black pumps, one of the coordinators came over and said “miss y/l/n is on in five”. You took a deep breath, attempting to mentally prepare yourself. You followed the coordinator towards the entrance to the catwalk. You felt eerily calm, you knew you should be freaking out but you weren’t. You felt incredible.

“3..2...1.. here comes y/n for the finale”

Harry was thoroughly enjoying the show, each item was completely perfect. Everything was cohesive but wildly different, anyone with working eyes could tell how much thought and attention to detail was put into everything. Even the styling was uniquely perfect, each model wore the pieces like they were made for them. Not a single thing looked out of place, everything belonged in a rabelious harmony and Harry was completely enveloped in it. The music stopped playing as the last model walked out, Harry looked around as another song started playing. Assuming this was the finale, Harry sat up straighter and grinned. Excited to see whatever you had planned. As the beat dropped in the song, all the models came walking out in two lines. One on the right and one on the left. Once the two front models came to the end of the catwalk they all stopped and slowly bowed their heads. Harry’s heart was beating so fast he thought he might actually have a heart attack. Then all of a sudden you walked around the corner and stepped onto the runway and Harry’s heart stopped completely. You were walking towards him like you had walked a million runways. You looked so powerful and sexy. The gown you wore was nothing short of breathtaking, a fine piece of art and the way it fit your body made all the blood rush towards his crotch.

As you reached the end of the catwalk you looked directly at Harry, who was sitting right night to the main camera. You gave him a quick knowing smirk, obviously seeing the pure shock on his face as you turned around and started walking back towards the entrance. God, you felt fucking incredible. Each model followed you one by one off the runway before the music stopped.

September 23rd 2020~

The last three days went by relatively fast for you. The show went exactly how you wanted it to and it was nothing short of perfection. All the press had been incredible and the critics were being positive which wasn’t always a given. There’s been a lot of buzz about the gown you wore, in fact, there’s word of the national art museum of London wanting to showcase it which is unbelievable. All your success has been skyrocketed, even from what it was at before. Having Harry at the show helped with the media buzz, they always went crazy when he was around but it did start rumours of the two of you dating. Especially after the pictures from the show were released and it was very obvious he was staring at you in such a way. You didn’t really care though, all publicity was good publicity.

It was Wednesday today, and you decided to work from home this week because you were still pretty exhausted from all the work you’d done in preparation for the show. Your day had been relitively slow, answering emails and drawing out some new designs for spring. You were sitting at your desk drawing out a coat design when your phone started ringing, you glanced at it and saw Glenne’s name pop up. You smiled lightly and picked up up.

“Hello?” You greeted her.

“Hey y/n! How are you?” She asked cheerily.

“I’m great G, just finishing some work. How are you?” You asked as you sat back in your chair.

“Great! So the reason I’m calling is because Jeff and I wanted to throw a party for you to celebrate the show. Obviously we need you here for that” she giggled, obviously excited.

“Aw of course I’ll come. What day is it?” You asked.

“It’s Friday night! It’ll be at the Hilton hotel, just give them your name. We’d like everyone to be there at nine if possible” she responded.

“Okay! I’ll be there at seven babe” you said as you stood up to look in your fridge, suddenly feeling hungry.

“Harry will be there” Glenne said knowingly, slightly drawing out the end of his name. You laughed as you shoved a slice of cheese into your mouth.

“And?” You asked.

She giggled again, “he’s been asking about you a lot lately, and we all saw him at your show. You two are obviously fucking” she said in a mocking tone.

“G! We are not. He’s just obsessed with me” you chuckled, rummaging through your fridge for more snacks.

“Oh stop, who isn’t? Plus you guys would be adorable together!” She responded loudly through the phone.

“G, he’s the relationship type and I’m so far from that, you know this” you said sternly.

“Y/N you don’t even know him, how do you know he’s the relationship type?” She asked giggling at your tendency to assume you know people immediately upon meeting them.

“I’ve heard his music, G. Anyways, I’ve got to go make something to eat before my stomach eats itself. I’ll see you Friday”.

September 25th 2020~

As soon as Jeff told Harry about the party they were throwing for you he was ecstatic, knowing he’d get a chance to actually speak to you. Since it was a celebration of you and KIWI, Harry decided to wear some of the pieces he owned that you designed. It took him about 30 minutes to decided on which of your designs he wanted to wear, hoping you would appreciate the gesture. Jeff had already assured Harry that he wouldn’t be the only one wearing KIWI at the party when he brought up the idea to him, which made Harry feel more comfortable. Eventually he decided to wear a two piece set you’d designed last season. It was Harry’s favourite. It was a long sleeve button up shirt and long perfectly fitted trousers, both made out of a beautiful sparkly blue fabric with a light contrast stitching. 

Upon arriving at the hotel Harry noticed that there were many cars parked out front and all down the street, way more than there had been at the last get together. He assumed it was because you would have invited more of your circle this time, as they were celebrating you. Harry made it up to the penthouse where the lady at the front desk had told him to go, and was greeted at the door by Jeff, quickly giving him a hug and ushering him into the large room. “Sorry I’m a little late, had some issues with m’ car” Harry apologized to Jeff with a small smile, both of them fully aware that he was indeed late because he takes so long to get ready.

“S’all good man, it’s just getting started” Jeff chuckled lowly as Harry followed him through the foyer and into the large open living room, where it seemed most of the party goers were. It was a pretty busy, around 80 people from what Harry could see. Through the crowd his eyes landed directly on you. You were talking to a small group of people, some of who Harry recognized. You were sitting on one of the big couches on the right side of the open space, you were slowly nodding while sipping from a glass of dark brown liquid. You were wearing a gold sparkly jumpsuit that hugged every inch of your torso in the most flattering way possible and flared at the from the knee down. Half of your wavy hair was effortlessly pinned back with a brown claw clip. You looked so beautiful, you stood out in the crowd of other beautiful people. Your energy and vibrancy completely overpowering the room.

As soon as Harry entered the living room with Jeff your attention was taken away from the group of friends around you. You immediately noticed that Harry was wearing one of your personal favourite designs, and you could tell he had spotted you aswell. As if he was looking for you, he smiled widely as you made eye contact. “Excuse me guys, I’m going to grab another drink” you smiled at the group before standing up and walking across the living room diagonally towards the open concept kitchen to the left of the living room. You purposefully glanced at Harry as you walked passed him with a cute innocent smile.

As soon as you entered the kitchen and bar area you felt someone behind you, you turned on your heel being met with Harry a few feet behind you. “Ello love” he greeted you with his deep English accent, “congratulations on the show, ‘t was incredible” he complimented with a genuine smile on his soft pink lips. You smiled back and slowly looked him up and down, observing his body in your design.

“Thank you, Harry. I’m glad you liked it. Lovely choice by the way” you said as you motioned towards his outfit with your hand.

“T’was hard too choose which one to wear if I’m ‘onest” he replied with a low chuckle as he stepped towards you a bit.

“You made the right choice, it’s one of my favourite designs I’ve done” you complimented as you leaned against the large marble counter, placing your almost empty drink on it “fits your body perfectly” you continued as you met your gaze with his again.

“It does doesn’t it?” He asked cheekily as he pulled at the top a bit with his ring clad hands. “Y’ look incredible, love the jumpsuit” he flattered as he moved about a foot closer, leaving only a few inches between the two of you.

You smirked “so charming” you replied as you gently touched his cheek while holding strong eye contact. You could feel his heart beating against your arm. You stared at each other for a few more seconds, almost as if you were having a conversation solely through eye contact.

“You need a drink” you smiled as you let your hand fall from his face and you spinned around as you made your way over to the bar.

Harry was completely stunned as he watched you walk over to the large bar, quickly grabbing all the ingredients for whatever drink you had decided he should drink. Being so close to you only moments before made his mind blur and his heart race. How could you just walk away when it seemed as if you were about to kiss him? Most people would jump at the chance. But he assumes most people would also jump at the chance to kiss you, he certainly would. He was taken out of his thoughts by your sweet voice. “Harry” you called for him from the bar, his name sounding like heaven coming out of your mouth like that.

“What’d ya make me love?” He asked as he walked over to you. You held out a glass filled with dark brown liquid and a single large ice cube in it.

“A Manhattan, it’s my favourite” you blinked sweetly at him, the sides of your mouth tugging up at the sides as he grabbed it mimicking your smile before taking a sip and making a face as though he’d just taken a shot. Your smile grew.

“S’very strong love, but good” he assured you.

“Mmm what’s the point of a drink if it’s not strong enough to burn” you replied, not as a question but rather a strong statement again hitting him with that beautiful stare. You picked up your own drink (the same as the one you’d made for him) and said a quick “cheers” before downing most of it. Harry was about to say something but was quickly inturrupted by a group of people entering the bar area.

The group consisted of a few people Harry knew, immediately recognizing Lizzo, ASAP Rocky, Gigi and Bella Hadid but there were a few others with them he didn’t know (or atleast didn’t recognize). The smile on your face grew into a wide grin as Bella squealed and said your name, engulfing you in a bear hug. “Bells!” You giggled lightly into her shoulder before releasing from the hug.

“The show was incredible Y/N. You’re a fucking genius” she praised as she walked behind the bar, still smiling widely.

“You walked in it love” you reminded her, giggling as you went to greet Rocky. The two of you hugged tightly before releasing, Rocky’s hands going up to cup your face.

“You killed it baby, just like you always do” he said as he kissed your nose. You could feel Harry’s eyes burning into the side of your head as he chatted along with lizzo.

“Mm thank you Rocky, you know you’re my muse” you grinned wider as you kissed both his hands in appreciation.

Harry couldn’t help but watch your interaction with Rocky, you seemed so comfortable, so intimate. Harry felt a pang of jealousy run through his stomach at you calling Rocky your “muse”. He brushed it off with a clearing of his throat as he turned his attention back to lizzo. “You good H? Uh oh. Y/N made you one of her manhattans didn’t she?” Lizzo laughed loudly looking down at the drink in his hands before hitting Harry’s shoulder playfully, the question bringing your attention to them.

“Hey! My manhattans are world renowned Mel” (Lizzo’s real name is Melissa) you said proudly as you took a few steps forward, closing the distance between you and the couple. You pulled Lizzo in for a hug “m glad you came” you said as the two of you pulled apart.

“Of course! The collection is legendary as per” she replied genuinely. You thanked her and gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning your attention to Harry.

“If you’ll excuse Harry and I, Mel. He was just about to escort me outside for a smoke” you informed her, all well making full eye contact with Harry.

“Mhmmm you two have fun, come get me for shots later”

Harry followed you outside onto the large open balcony, watching you greet people on the way, doing the same if he knew the person. As soon as the two of you stepped outside Harry watched you take a deep breath, tipping your head back slightly to take in the fresh air. It looked almost erotic, even though it was just a simple action it made all Harry’s senses tingle. “How do’ya know Rocky?” Harry asked seemingly out of nowhere, it almost shocked himself. He knew he tends to get jealous rather easily, and maybe even a little possessive but usually it only comes out with people he’s exclusive with, not a women he’s never even kissed. And yet, there it was. He tried to sound casual but worried he failed terribly. You turned your head to him with a slight smirk before licking your lower lip and chuckling slightly.

“Oh, we’ve known each other for a long time. Met him at a party when I was first starting out” you said nonchalantly before grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the small table that sat on the deck. Harry nodded, understanding that you were in no way going to give away the nature of yours and Rockys relationship.

“I listened through your album again this morning” you admitted, effortlessly changing the subject back to him while taking a long drag of the cigarette you had just lit. Harry tried his best to hide the grin appearing on his face as he stared at you,

“did ya?” He asked waiting for you to continue your thought.

“Mhm. Listened to it in the shower” you hummed, as you leaned forward against the railing in front of the two of you, taking in the view and breaking eye contact.

The thought of you listening to Harry sing while completely naked in the shower made his skin feel like it was on fire and all his blood rush down to his groin. “What’s y’ favourite song?” He asked, leaning his back against the railing right next to you and looking down at your face. You looked up at him and hummed in thought.

“She” you said with a thoughtful, almost devious smile before standing up straight and putting out your smoke.

“Let’s go do shots, yeah?” Harry nodded with an amused smile as you grabbed his hand and pulled him back into the hotel.

Four shots and two hours later Harry found himself sitting on one of the couches to the right side of the open living room, watching you dance along with your friends in the middle. You looked so free, so careless, so magical. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, trying to listen to whatever Jeff was trying to tell him to his right. “You’re not paying attention are you man?” Harry heard Jeff ask through a laugh as he followed Harry’s eyeline straight to you. Harry pried his eyes away from you to look at Jeff

“sorry mate. I’m listenin’” Harry told him, not really trying to be convincing.

“She’s an actress y’know. Not literally, but she knows how to get what she wants, she always has. But she’s got a good heart, just be careful alright?” Jeff said to him, patting his knee before standing up and walking over to glenne who was stood at the other side of the room.

Harry sat, watching you as he went over what Jeff had said to him a few moments ago. “She’s an actress”. Did he have to be careful? You didn’t look dangerous, but you did scare him a little. Not because he thought you’d physically hurt him or anything, but he knew if he’d let you, you could dig deep into his already fragile heart. Break it, possibly like it hadn’t been before.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by seeing you turn your body towards where he was sitting, breaking yourself out of the group of friends that surrounded you. You made eye contact with Harry and motioned for him to come to you with your perfectly manicured right hand. You weren’t smiling, but he could see a glint of something he thought was amusement in your eyes. He got up and walked over to you. “You motioned fo’ me love?” He asked as he approached, a small smirk apparently on both your lips.

“Mhm, come” you said as you offered him your hand. He took your small hand in his as you ushered him through the growing crowd.

The two of you walked all the way through the living room, and passed the kitchen before entering a smaller room to the left of the kitchen. As you entered Harry took in his surroundings, it appeared to be an office space. There was a glass table in the center of the room with a large plate decorated with multiple lines of white powder on it, along with three chairs; one blue velvet and the other two grey of the same material. There were a few other people in the room, but Harry didn’t recognize them. “Some privacy please loves” you said aloud, asking them to leave Harry and yourself alone in the space. The strangers immediately obliged when they saw you, muttering greetings as they exited. You turned around to face Harry who was standing only slightly behind you.

“do you fancy a line Harry?” You asked, your hand coming up to touch his shoulder lightly.

“S’ a party innit?” He agreed, making you smile all too innocently given what he was agreeing to was quite the opposite. You walked over to the plate of narcotics, picking up the metal straw from beside it before holding it up to your nose. You bent over the table, flipping your hair over to the right side to make sure it didn’t get in the way as you breathed in deep through your nose inhaling a thick line of the powder. Harry watched as you stood up straight, tipping your head back and inhaling through your nose to make sure you got it all. You let out a cheery giggle before holding the straw out to Harry. He took it and did the same.

Just as Harry stood up straight you gently carressed his left cheek, staring into his blown out pupils. “God, you’re somethin’ else” he spoke just below a whisper, only loud enough for you to barely hear. He brought his large ring filled hand up to your waist as your hand fell from his cheek to his neck. He applied pressure to your waist encouraging you to move so your bum was pushed against the glass table. Once you obliged he moved even closer to you so your noses were practically touching, his hand moving to smooth itself over your back to hold you in place.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice much lower and more raspy than it had been. His eyes filled with desperation and lust. Instead of responding you giggled lightly and pulled him in by his neck, connecting your lips. The kiss was slow and messy, but filled with an undying passion. Your left hand squeezed his neck slightly, egging him on as one of his hands went to cup your jaw while the other one steadied on your waist. You opened your mouth slightly, inviting him in which he immediately took advantage of, sliding his tongue into your mouth. Both your lips were slightly numb from the coke but it did nothing but intensify the feeling. He tasted like whiskey and peppermint, making your head dizzy (in the most incredible way). You let your hands drop down to his waistband, slowly untucking the button down from his trousers and beginning to undue the buttons. Your eagerness made a low groan erupt from the back of his throat, feeling his boner growing rapidly at your touch. You broke the kiss as you finished unbuttoning his shirt, both of your breathing unsteady. He watched as you ran your hands up his torso slowly before pushing his sleeves off his wide shoulders. You made eye contact with him as he went to kiss you again, you stopped him shaking your head. You bent your head down slightly and licked his chest, starting from the top of his butterfly tattoo and ending just under his jaw. The feeling driving Harry completely insane with lust, goosebumps appearing all over his body as he let out a throaty moan

“y’ drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy” he said as you came up, standing up straight.

“Sit” you spoke, pointing at the large blue velvet chair next to you, not breaking eye contact. You could still hear the booming music and people taking from the other rooms as you watched him sit. You turned around so your back was facing Harry as you undid the tie that held up the top part of your jumpsuit letting it fall down, exposing your entire torso and back.

You heard Harry mutter a low “fuck” as you turned around and positioned yourself on top of him, successfully straddling his lap.

You could feel the exceedingly large bulge through his pants pressing against your crotch as he began kissing down your neck and towards your breasts causing you to moan slightly.

“Please Harry” you said breathlessly, giving him some control as you began slowly grinding back and forth against him.

“Tell me princess. Tell me what ya want” he raspily requested as he gripped onto your hips with both his hands, guiding your movements.

“I want you to fuck me harry, I want you to use me” you said still grinding against him while looking down slightly into his eyes as he stared back up at you. Without hesitation he lifted you, firmly holding onto your bum as he stood up and set you down on the table.

“Lift up love” he ordered, you leaned back on your hands and lifted up for bum so he could pull down the remaining part of your jumpsuit. After discarding the material to the side, taking your nude pumps along with it, he took a moment to take in your practically naked body. You grinned widely at his reaction as he began to grope your boobs, once again connecting his lips with yours. You reached your hands down to undo the button of his pants, using your skilled fingers you got them down in record time. You looked back up at him to see his eyes already staring at you. You placed your hands on either side of his face while his still ran along your nude body.

“Please Harry, I need your cock” you whispered seductively causing his whole body to go into overdrive.

He quickly pulled down his already undone trousers and boxers before sliding your peach coloured thong to the side, feeling your dripping pussy with his index finger and letting out an animalistic groan. You watched as he grabbed his large dick with his left hand, lining himself up at your entrance before turning his gaze back to your face. You both held eye contact as he entered you. The feeling completely overwhelming both of you, you leaned your head back, gripping roughly onto his back as you both let out a strangled moan. “Fuck” you moaned “you’re so big”. Your words egging him on, he picked up his pace pumping in and out of you slow but rough. He kept his focus on your face, watching as you moaned his name and praised him. You looked like a complete wet dream, your eyes barely open, your head tilted back as you stared at him through your eyelashes refusing to break eye contact.

“Good girl.... y’ take me so fucking good” he moaned, his ringed fingers digging harshly into your hips as his grip tightened. You lifted your head and moved your hands to his neck pulling him in closer so that his face was not even an inch away from yours.

“Harder Harry, fuck me harder” you moaned, completely out of breath. He started pounding into faster, all the sounds of the hectic party just outside completely drowned out by the sound of his balls slapping harshly against you and your shared moans. You finally broke eye contact when you leaned your head to the side and began leaving messy wet kisses along his jaw before meeting his neck with your mouth. You bit down roughly onto the skin of his neck earning a throaty moan from him. You licked over the spot you’d just bitten, soothing the pain a bit before he pulled your head back, balling your hair into his fist so you would look at him.

“Dirty little princess y’ are... leavin’ marks on me” he growled into your mouth before rejioning your lips to his and continuing his relentless pace with his hips.

You could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly, the overwhelming tingling travelling all throughout your body, all your senses becoming increasingly clear. “Y’ gonna cum fo’ me love?” He asked as he felt your walls becoming even tighter around his shaft. You nodded rapidly.

“Such a good girl... s’ fuckin tight” he said in between breathless moans.

“Cum fo’ me princess, I wanna feel you” he repeated, moving his right hand from its place on your waist to rub your clit, matching the pace of his hips. You could feel it happening, your vision blurred, your toes curling, your legs shaking rapidly as you dig your nails deep into Harry’s black, holding on for dear life.

“Fuck, Harry. Fuck” you repeated over and over as you came hard around his thick cock.

“Fuck Y/N, y’ gonna make me cum” he moaned into your neck as you held onto his shoulders.

“Cum for me harry, please” you whispered in his ear between moans of your own. You could feel his body start to weaken as he twitched inside of you, about to cum. You wrapped your legs around his hips tightly and pulled him in closer as he let out a loud raspy moan. You felt thick ropes of cum shoot deep inside you.

Once he came down from his high he kept his head rested on your shoulder, your arms and legs still wrapped tightly around him, both of you desperately trying to catch your breath. After a few seconds you both released, your legs falling down beside his as he stood. You made eye contact and you giggled lightly making him smile boyishly. Both of your hair a complete and utter mess, breathing heavily, and completely naked. The plate of cocaine that once sat on the side of the table was now shattered on the floor. “Your insane” Harry said before he laughed looking around the room, really taking in everything that happened. You laughed with him as you hopped off the table and walked over to where he had thrown your jumpsuit and shoes.

“I’m going to assume you meant that as a compliment.” You said as you pulled your jumpsuit up over your nude body.

“F’ course love. You’re a fuckin minx” he complimented as he buttoned up his shirt.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Harry” you shot back with a quick wink as you finished putting you shoes on.

End note: Ahh thank you so much for reading!! I’m kind of nervous about posting this, so please let me know what you thought! I’d seriously appreciate it. And if you liked it please please reblog :) I know the ending is kind of abrupt but it’ll make sense in the next part. Also, there will be ANGST coming up !

[artificialqueens]

I'm Not Into Sometimes, Chapter 1 (Rosnali) - SnowBun

A/N: After who knows how long, I am finally writing again. A true shocker. This one will be about 5-8 chapters long (again, who knows? I’m just winging it) with much emotion. Hope you guys are all well during this difficult time xx

For me, because self-love is admitting that you’re suffering through the writing process for your own pleasure.

Summary: Denali goes viral on the internet and is hired to choreograph for Rosè.

–

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since Denali posted the video of her choreography to 100% Pure Love. Two weeks since she posted a video of her spilling all the passion in her cup on the dance studio floor. Two weeks since the world has watched and decided to give her five minutes of fame.

At first, it was validation. She thought that her existing followers and a few other people would see the video and think, “Denali’s fucking Talented with a capital T.” It was the way every other video she had posted had gone down. She knew the video was above even her standards, but the larger than usual wave of gratification didn’t feel like anything special.

But then Monet X Change jumped into the party, sharing the video and telling her millions of followers that she was one of the best choreographers and dancers she’d ever seen. That’s when she knew this one was different. This was more than validation; this was the world suddenly turning its head to put its eye on her.

Yet, she thinks that two weeks might have been the limit. She’s posted more content to keep people interested, but nothing has quite captured people’s attention like that first video. The stream of DMs, comments and views have been decreasing and she thinks, “Well, I just have to keep trying.”

But here she is, sitting at her desk job, feeling utterly fucking useless. She’s staring at a screen when her heart is all the way on the other side of the city, its thump, thump, thump beating along to the rhythm of music.

She’s aware of the student loans that beg to be paid each month, but every breath is a punch of anxiety to the stomach. Inhales of whispers saying, “Look where your passion has gotten you.” She chokes on the air, leaving her lightheaded and powerless.

Her phone lights up. “There goes another one.” She thinks to herself as she swipes to open Instagram. If she follows the pattern of the last two weeks, it’s either a new fan complimenting her or a dipshit asking for her nudes. Oh, the sad reality of virality.

But she stares at the bright blue check mark beside the username. She thinks it’s staring back, laughing and saying, “Look at your face, priceless!”

“Hi Denali!” It reads. “I’m Tamisha Iman from Iman Entertainment. I’ve been loving your videos and I wanted to reach out with an opportunity to choreograph some projects. Here’s my email so we can discuss details. Hope to hear from you soon!”

Her brain can barely register the words on the screen, but she knows that there’s only one thing left to do. She knows that the last few months of working her ass off as a part-time choreographer have led up to this moment.

She walks away from her desk, the sound of her pumps on the floor echoing in the aisles of the bland beige office. She hears the receptionist say something about him being on a call, but she doesn’t even stop to take a breath before swinging the door open. She’s face-to-face with her boss, a man who probably doesn’t even know her name, with a smile and a look in her eyes that’s almost delirious.

“I quit.”

—

On her way home, she realizes that she’s an idiot.

“You’re so stupid!” She says to herself as she swings open her apartment door. She hasn’t even replied to Tamisha and she’s already indulging spontaneous moments of catharsis over security. What if she found someone else in the span of an hour? The woman was in the business long enough to know someone just as good with far more experience. That last thought threatens to send her into a spiral, so she pulls out her phone and rushes to email a reply.

“Thank you so much for thinking of me, Ms. Iman! Really glad you liked the video. Could I have some details about this opportunity? I would love to work with you on any upcoming projects.”

For a moment, her thumb hovers over the send button. She takes a snapshot of this moment in her head. “This is it,” She thinks to herself. “This is where it all starts, Denali.”

She presses send and lets out a long exhale.

—

Three days.

It’s been three goddamn days since she quit her job and emailed her reply. It’s been three days of complete and utter suffering as the receiver of radio silence. The first evening, she had remained wonderfully calm in the fact that it was too soon. The second evening was more hellish, each notification popping up on her phone looking more and more like mockery. This third evening was the worst of them all, leading her to wallow in the idea that she had prematurely quit her stable job for an opportunity that she had never been promised.

“Denali, you can’t just stay there.” Kahmora says from the kitchen, her tone soft and understanding.

She knows her roommate is right. She knows that she has to get up and face the music. She knows that her only two options right now are to God forbid, crawl back to her old job or call every single one of her contacts to stock up on gigs; but there it goes again, that little voice in her head that won’t quit, that stupid tiny voice that gives her hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight is the night she’ll get a reply.

She clutches the phone in her hand like the rosary from her all-girls Catholic school days. Every time she thinks about letting it go is accompanied by a sense of hope, faded like the old pictures her mother left in the attic at home.

Kahmora sits beside her and she leans on her friend, willing herself not to burst into tears. “You’re not any less amazing, you know.” She reminds her as she strokes her fine, blonde hair. “Maybe this opportunity just wasn’t meant to work out.”

It doesn’t take a philosophical genius to know that Kahmora is right. She’ll lay awake tonight and replay the words in her head like a mantra straight out of one of those self-help tapes they used to use on smokers in the 90s; but damn, did it sting like a bitch.

The phone comes alive in her hand, a notification glaring at her through the screen. She swipes so fast that she thinks she might have just broken some world record. As she rushes to check what it is, she prays to whatever higher power that is out there that this was it, that the snapshot in her head wasn’t for nothing.

Her eyes dart across the screen, expression the very picture of stunned. She turns her head to look at Kahmora, staring at her with anticipation.

“What is it?”

“I’m choreographing Rosé’s new music video.”

—

For a week, Denali lived, ate and breathed making the choreography for Phenomenon. Every waking moment was spent perfecting the moves. She made sure that every jut, pivot and turn was sharp and purposeful. She wanted to make sure that there was no doubt in Rosé’s mind that she wasn’t just a ten-minute internet sensation, but a damn good choreographer.

Part of that job description was to study Rosé’s movements in her past music videos. She had heard the singer’s voice everywhere (who hadn’t, really,) so there was no denying her incredible vocal talent. However, watching her move was just as breathtaking. She was a spectacular performer with a beautiful toned body, so unlike what she was used to seeing for other artists.

After Kahmora had dropped her off and she’d promised to return in three weeks in one piece, she boarded the plane with a ticket Tamisha had bought for her. Even with all the comforts of business class, she could not bring herself to settle. Anxiety-inducing questions popped up in her head and she did her best to swat them away like flies.

“What if she thinks I’m just that girl from the internet?”

“What if she hates the choreo?”

“What if we don’t get along at all and I get blackballed?”

By the time she gets into the car that Tamisha had sent to pick her up from the airport, her thoughts have swirled and mixed, creating a dangerous cocktail of nerves that settles in the pit of her stomach.

As the car stops in front of the Iman Management Agency office, she settles for a nice deep breath. “You’re going for the gold, Denali.” She whispers to herself.

When she swings the door open and quickly lets her eyes roam, she comes to the disappointing realization that Rosé is nowhere in sight. For a week, she’d hyped herself up to make a good first impression.

The disappointment is quelled when Tamisha Iman stands up from her desk. She is nothing short of glamorous, with her gorgeous dark hair and tailored suit. Her smile is warm and inviting, and she almost forgets that the very thought of this moment would have made her throw up a few days ago.

“Denali!” She beams, walking over to shake hands. “So nice to meet you, I’m Tamisha. I gotta say, I thought I had seen everything after 30 years in the business; but I’ve never seen anyone move quite like you do.”

“That’s so nice of you to say, thank you.” Denali replies appreciatively, albeit somewhat shyly. “That video popped off so unexpectedly. I’m really glad you liked it.”

“Oh, who wouldn’t?” Tamisha gestures for her to take a seat in front of her desk. As she moves, Denali notes the utmost grace and poise that she carries herself with. With all her experience, she expected nothing less than this type of professionalism. “I see someone move like that and I know that they have what it takes to work with my talent.”

“Speaking of which,” She starts hesitantly. “I was hoping to meet Rosé. You know, get to know her and be comfortable before we start working.”

For a moment, Denali senses an exasperation when Tamisha sighs; but then, she just smiles apologetically. “I’m really sorry, but you’ll have to wait until your first session tomorrow. She’s really throwing herself into finishing this album, so she couldn’t make much time in her schedule.”

At first, she feels disheartened. It’s a mixture of, “Am I not worth meeting?” and the excitement of finally meeting the woman whose talents she’d been studying for a wholeass week; but then, the disappointment gives way to more anticipation. Meeting her in the studio means meeting her in her wheelhouse. There was no way, shape or form that she could disappoint anyone in her area of expertise.

“No worries, Ms. Iman. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

—

Denali expects that she’s going to wake up with a headache that feels like her brain is in a meat grinder when she gets up the next morning from a restless night; but it’s only 5:30 and she knows that the idea of today, the culmination of a lifelong dream, is far too thrilling for her to have no energy.

She swings her legs out of bed quickly, not giving herself too much time to think. She knows that the studio is barely five minutes away from the hotel and that the call time is 7:00, but if she sits still too long, she knows she’ll concoct another dangerous cocktail of anxiety and insomnia. If possible, she’d like to avoid that.

She steps into the shower and lets herself breathe deeply, relishing in the way the lungs fill with air and her muscles contract. She focuses on her senses and lets it flood her head. Better that than a doom scenario her mind will inevitably come up with.

She puts on her leggings and a sweater over her mesh top to protect herself from the chill of New York air. For the shortest moment, she allows herself to stare at her reflection and hype herself up.

“Move aside world, it’s your girl, Denali.”

When she gets to the studio, it’s predictably empty. It looks little like the studio she went to in Chicago. All the walls are a deep cool grey instead of the white walls with a brick accent that she’s used to. The floor is a much darker shade of brown too; but even then, she is reminded of home. This little box is where her love lies and she feels safe.

She checks her phone and sees that it’s only 6:40. “Huh.” She says to the empty air. She walks towards the mirror at the front of the room, the click of her heels echoing against the four walls.

“Might as well.” She says to herself as she sticks her phone in the dock. She chooses 100% Pure Love and starts swaying along to the music. If she’s honest, she hasn’t fully listened to the song since she recorded that fateful video; but when the music hits, her body remembers the movement. She watches herself in the mirror, the planes of her body shifting in fluid motions. She can see her body come alive, marrying freedom with control and she remembers then why the feeling is unparalleled.

Right as the song finishes, she hears another set of heels tapping against the floorboards. She sees someone come into view through the mirror. She spins as gracefully as she can to greet her, but her brain suddenly stops working.

Rosé is special and she knows it right away. She is somehow exactly the same but completely different from what she had expected. She sees the same face, sternly set jaw and amazing body that she had seen on a screen. The fact that she looks just as good in person leaves her completely dazed.

“Hi.”

Denali shakes her head, laughing lightly to hide that she’d been staring like an idiot. “Sorry, I just got a bit surprised.” She walks over, hand extended. “I’m Denali, the choreographer.”

“Rosé.” Her lips are pressed into a tight-lipped smile as she shakes Denali’s hand. The response is verging on cold, but it’s nothing for her to cry home about. She wasn’t so naïve as to think that this would become a ‘I’ll be your new best friend’ type of situation.

An awkward silence falls over them and Rosé refuses to look away. She feels like she’s being studied and she thinks her skin might start to itch from the discomfort. “So uhm,” She claps her hands together. “Let’s get straight into it?”

“Sure.”

Denali squats down to change the track as Rosé drops her bag in a corner of the room. “I’ll show you the choreography first, then we’ll go off from there. Sound good?” She called over her shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Rosé replied as she sat at the side of the room.

Denali stands to the back of the room, staring at her reflection and willing herself to ignore the head of pale pink hair to the side. She marches forward, all attitude and spice, forever thinking of how to make every single moment an amazing performance, no matter the audience. As she sees herself dance, she realizes just how proud she is. This choreography is one of her best and she knows it.

She ends with her arm straight out and pointing at the mirror. She catches her breath, realizing that she’d been holding it. Her eyes move to Rosé who, apart from slightly raised eyebrows, is expressionless. She tries her best not to feel offended. She’s this proud of her work and she can’t even get a smile?

“So, what do you think?” She asks, hoping for a comment, quip, any response that could validate her work.

“It was good but,” Rosé pushes herself up and stands next to her. In the blink of an eye, there’s a shift. She becomes fully immersed in the work, nothing short of absolutely serious and a picture-perfect professional. “That part right before I enter the second verse. I was hoping for something like…”

She goes to the back of the room and spins to the front, a flurry of cotton candy clouds sweeping through the studio. Denali feels dizzy, but she can’t deny that Rosé looks fantastic doing the move and, to her chagrin, it does suit the music more. Even then, there’s an ache that comes with admitting it.

“Yeah, I think we can make that work.” She looks at Rosé and their eyes meet. It feels like too much, like sinking into a hole in the ground because holy shit, she can see straight through me. She’s never seen eyes quite like that before.

“Okay!” She exclaims quickly, giving herself an excuse to look away. “Let’s start from the top.”

The next two hours pass fairly quickly. By how quickly Rosé catches on and the number of edits that she makes to the choreography, she can tell that she’s had some type of professional training. The idea of that leaves her intrigued, but it’s overshadowed by her dejection. She’s a spectacular student, but the detached responses and almost too professional attitude leave Denali thirsty for some kind of gratification.

By the end of the session, Rosé has learned at least half of the choreography and Denali can’t deny that she’s impressed that she could keep up. She turns to look at her and is surprised to see her smiling for the first time. It lights up her whole face, even those damn eyes that she can’t bear to look at.

“Oh God, that was great!” She exclaims and it reminds Denali of a child after getting off a rollercoaster. “This is going to be my best video yet.”

Denali smiles back, finally relaxing after getting a hit of that delayed validation. “I think so too.” She agrees, looking down at her feet. “I mean, your work is fantastic and it’s honestly such an honor to do this with you.”

Rosé laughs and she decides that she likes the sound. It’s not the tinkling of windchimes on her mother’s porch. It reminds her of the beat of music when it moves through her. It’s deep, genuine and comforting, pulling at the rope bundled up into knots in her stomach.

“Are you kidding, Denali?” She says in disbelief. “Your choreography for this has been so good and I could not have asked for someone better to work with.”

She lets herself look into her eyes, now so full of joy and warmth. It feels like a different person, but she knows that it’s just two sides to the same coin. There’s something about the blurred line between the professional student she had just taught and the sincere woman speaking to her that blows her mind.

“Not gonna lie, that makes me feel really relieved.” She admits, pretending to wipe sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. Rosé laughs again and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling too wide.

Rosé’s phone suddenly rings and she runs over her to her bag to check it. She groans and turns to Denali, looking irritated for a reason she can’t quite place. “Shit, I should get going.” She picks up her things and smiles again. “It was nice to meet you, Denali.”

“You too, Rosé.”

The singer is walking away when she stops in the doorway. She turns around and gives her a wink, so private and secret that she thinks it might be hiding from the glare of the sun streaming in through the windows.

“See you tomorrow.”

When she hears the door close, Denali all but collapses onto the ground, folding her legs under her and sighing deeply.

“Well, fuck.”

[alanlicht]

Alan Licht’s Minimal Top Ten List #4

A few weeks ago, near the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, my friend Mats Gustafsson sent out a mass email encouraging people to send him record lists to post on the “Discaholics” section of his website--top tens, favorite covers, anything. I immediately thought of the first 3 Minimal Top Ten lists I did (now found online here) back in 1995, 1997, and 2007 respectively, for the fanzine Halana (the first two) and Volcanic Tongue’s website (the third), and sent them to him. Those articles have sort of taken on a life of their own, and I still see them referenced as the albums get reissued and so on. Occasionally people ask me if I’d ever do another one, and looking at all three again made me think now is the hour. I started writing this in the midst of the lockdown, and the drastic reductions in people’s way of life—the restriction of any activity outside the home to the bare essentials, the relative stasis of life in quarantine, even the visual stasis of a Zoom meeting—make revisiting Minimal music, with its aesthetic of working within limitations and hallmarks of repetition and drones, somehow timely as well.

The original lists were never meant to represent “the best” Minimal albums: they were ones that were rare and in some cases surpass, in my opinion, more widely available releases by the same artist and/or better known examples of the genre. Some were records that hadn’t been classified as Minimalist but warranted consideration through that lens. Likewise, the lists aren’t meant to be ranked within themselves, or in comparison to each other; the first record on any of the lists isn’t necessarily vastly preferable to the last, and this fourth list is not the bottom of the barrel, by any stretch. In some cases the present list has records I’ve discovered since 2007; others are records I’ve known for quite a while but haven’t included before for one reason or another. I’ve also made an addendum to selected entries on the first three lists, which have become fairly dated in terms of what is currently available by many of the artists, and to account for some of the significant archival releases in the 25 years since I first compiled them.

Unlike the mid-90s, most if not all of these records can be heard and/or purchased online, whether they’re up on YouTube or available for sale on Discogs. So finding them will be easier than before (although I haven’t included links to any of the titles as a small tribute to the legwork involved in tracking records down in olden tymes), but hopefully the spirit of sharing knowledge and passions that drove my previous efforts, forged in the pre-internet fanzine world, hasn’t been rendered totally redundant by the 24/7 onslaught of virtual note-comparing in social media.

1. Simeon ten Holt Canto Ostinato (various recordings): This was the most significant discovery for me in the last decade, a piece with over one hundred modules to be played on any instrument but mostly realized over the years with two to four pianos. I first encountered a YouTube live video of four pianists tackling it over the course of 90 minutes or so, then bought a double CD on Brilliant Classics from 2005, also for four pianos, that runs about 2 and half hours. The original 3LP recording on Donemus, from 1984, lasts close to 3 hours. It’s addictively listenable, very hypnotic in that pulsed, Steve Reich “Piano Phase”/”Six Pianos” kind of way, with lots of recurring themes (which differentiates it from Terry Riley’s “In C,” its most obvious structural antecedent). Composed over the span of the 70s, as with Roberto Cacciapaglia’s Sei Note in Logica, it’s an  example of someone contemporaneously taking the ball from Reich or Riley and running with it. Every recording I’ve heard has been enjoyable, I’ve yet to pick a favorite.

2. David Borden Music for Amplified Keyboard Instruments (Red Music, 1981) 3. Mother Mallard’s Portable Masterpiece Co. Like a Duck to Water (Earthquack, 1976): These were some of my most cherished Minimal recordings when I was a teenager in the mid-80s, and are still not particularly well-known; they’re probably the biggest omission in the previous lists (at least from my perspective). Borden formed Mother Mallard, supposedly the first all-synthesizer ensemble, as a trio in the late 60s, although there’s electric piano on the records too. He went on to do music under his own name that hinged on the multi-keyboard Minimalism-meets-Renaissance classical concept he first explored with Mother Mallard, as exemplified by his 12-part series “The Continuing Story of Counterpoint” (a title inspired by both Philip Glass’ “Music in Twelve Parts” and the Beatles’ “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill”). I first heard Parts 6 & 9 of “Continuing Story” (from Music for Amplified Keyboard Instruments) on Tim Page’s 1980s afternoon radio show on WNYC, and bought the Mother Mallard LPs (Like A Duck is the second, the first is self-titled) from New Music Distribution Service soon after. I mail-ordered the Borden album  from Wayside Music, which had cut-out copies, maybe a year later (c. 1986). I wasn’t much of a synth guy, but I loved the propulsive, rapid-fire counterpoint and fast-changing, lyrical melodies found on these records. “C-A-G-E Part 2,” which occupies side 2 of the Mother Mallard album and utilizes only those pitches, has to be a pinnacle of the Minimal genre. Interestingly, Borden claims to not really be able to “hear” harmony and composes each part of these (generally) three-part inventions individually, all the way through. The two-piano “Continuing Story of Counterpoint Part Two” on the 1985 album Anatidae is also beloved by me, and there was an archival Mother Mallard CD called Music by David Borden (Arbiter, 2003) that’s worth hearing.

4. Charles Curtis/Charles Curtis Trio: Ultra White Violet Light/Sleep (Beau Rivage, 1997): Full disclosure: Charles is a long-time friend, but this record seems forgotten and deserves another look, especially in light of the long-overdue 3CD survey of his performances of other composers’ material that Saltern released last year. This was a double album of four side-long tracks, conceived with the intent that two sides could be played simultaneously, in several different configurations; two of them are Charles solo on cello and sine tones, the others are with a trio and have spoken vocals and rock instrumentation, with cello and the sine tones also thrown into the mix. (I’ve never heard any of the sides combined, although now it would probably be easily achieved with digital mixing software.) The instrumental stuff is the closest you can come to hearing Charles’ beautiful arrangement of Terry Jennings’ legendary “Piece for Cello and Saxophone,” at least until his own recording of it sees the light of day; the same deeply felt cello playing against a sine tone drone. And it would be interesting to see what Slint fans thought of the trio material. Originally packaged in a nifty all-white uni-pak sleeve with a photo print pasted into the gatefold, it was reissued with a different cover on the now-defunct Squealer label on LP and CD but has disappeared since then. Stellar.

5. Arthur Russell Instrumentals 1974 Vol. 2 (Another Side/Crepuscule, 1984) 6. Peter Zummo Zummo with an X (Loris, 1985):  Arthur Russell has posthumously developed a somewhat surprising indie rock audience, mostly for his unique songs and singing as well as his outré disco tracks. But he was also a modern classical composer, with serious Minimal cred—he’s on Jon Gibson’s Songs & Melodies 1973-1977 (see addendum), and played with Henry Flynt and Christer Hennix at one point; his indelible album of vocal and cello sparseness, World of Echo, was partially recorded at Phill Niblock’s loft and of course his Tower of Meaning LP was released on Glass’s Chatham Square label. He’s the one guy in the 70s and 80s (or after, for that matter) who connected the dots between Ali Akbar Khan, the Modern Lovers, Minimalism, and disco as different forms of trance music (taken together, both sides of his disco 12” “In the Light of the Miracle,” which total nearly a half-hour, could arguably be considered one of his Minimalist compositions). Recorded in 1977 & 1978, Instrumentals is an important signpost of the incipient Pop Minimalism impulse, and the first track is a pre-punk precursor to Rhys Chatham and Glenn Branca’s appropriations of the rock band format to pursue Minimal pathways (Chatham is one of the performers in that first piece). The rest, culled from a concert at the Kitchen, features long held tones from horns and strings and is quite graceful, if slightly undercut by Arthur’s own slightly jarring, apparently random edits. [Audika’s 2006 reissue, as part of the double CD First Thought Best Thought, includes a 1975 concert that was slated to be Instrumentals Vol. 1, which shows an even more specific pop/rock/Minimal intersection]. Zummo was a long-term collaborator of Russell’s and his album, which Arthur plays on, is a must for Russell aficionados. The first side is made up of short, plain pieces that repeat various simple intervals and are fairly hard-core Minimalism, but “Song IV,” which occupies all of side two, is like an extended, jammy take on Russell’s disco 12” “Treehouse” and has Bill Ruyle on bongos, who also played on Instrumentals as well as with Steve Reich and Jon Gibson. A recently unearthed concert at Roulette from 1985 is a further, and especially intriguing, example of Russell’s blending of Minimalism and song form. (That same year Arthur played on Elodie Lauten’s The Death of Don Juan--another record I first encountered via Tim Page’s radio show--which I included on Top Ten #3; Lauten as well as Zummo played on the Russell Roulette concert, as their website alleges).

7. Horacio Vaggione La Maquina de Cantar (Cramps, 1978): Another one-off from the late 70s, and yet more evidence of how Minimalism had really caught on as a trend among European composers of the time. Vaggione had a previous duo album with Eduardo Polonio under the name It called Viaje that was noisier electronics, and he went on to do computer music that was likewise more traditionally abstract. But on this sole effort for the Italian label Cramps, as part of their legendary Nova Musicha series, he went for full-on tonality. The title track is like the synth part of “Who Are You” extended for more than fifteen minutes and made a bit squishier; but side 2, “Ending”--already mentioned in the entry on David Rosenboom’s Brainwave Music in Top Ten #3--is my favorite. Kind of a bridge between Minimalism and prog, and a little reminiscent of David Borden’s multiple-synth counterpoint pieces, for the first ten minutes he lingers on one vaguely foreboding arpeggiated chord, then introduces a fanfare melody that repeats and builds in harmonies and countermelodies for the remainder of the piece. Great stuff, as Johnny Carson used to say.

8. Costin Miereanu Derives (Poly-Art, 1984): Miereanu is French composer coming out of musique concrete. Unlike some of the albums on these lists, both sides/pieces on Derives are superb, comprised of long drones with flurries of skittering electronic activity popping up here and there. Also notable is the presence of engineers Philip Besomes and Jean-Louis Rizet, responsible for Pôle, the great mid-70s prog double album that formed the basis of Graham Lambkin’s meta-meisterwork Amateur Doubles. I discovered this record via the old Continuo blog; Miereanu has lots of albums out, most of which I haven’t heard, but his 1975 debut Luna Cinese, another Cramps Nova Musicha item, is also estimable, although less Minimal.

9. Mikel Rouse Broken Consort Jade Tiger (Les Disques du Crepuscule, 1984): Rouse was a major New Music name in the 80s, as was Microscopic Septet saxist Philip Johnston, who plays here. Dominated by Reichian repeated fills that accentuate the odd time signatures as opposed to an underlying pulse, this will sound very familiar to anyone acquainted with Nik Bärtsch’s Ronin albums on ECM, which use the same general idea but brand it “zen funk” and cater more to the progressive jazz crowd rather than New Music fans, if we can be that anachronistic in our terminology. Jade Tiger also contrasts nicely with Wim Mertens’ more neo-Romantic contemporaneous excursions on Crepuscule. Rouse later performed the admirable (and daunting) task of cataloging Arthur Russell’s extensive tape archive for the preparation of Another Thought (Point Music, 1994)

10. Michael Nyman Decay Music (Obscure, 1976): Known for his soundtracks to Peter Greenaway films, and his still-peerless 1974 book Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond (where I, Jim O’Rourke, and doubtless many other intrepid teenage library goers learned of the Minimalists, Fluxus, AMM, and lots of other eternal avant heroes), Nyman is sometimes credited with coining the term “Minimal music” as well, in an early 70s article in The Spectator. Decay Music was produced by Brian Eno for his short-lived but wonderful Obscure label. The first side, “1-100,” was also composed for a Greenaway film, and has one hundred chords played one after another on piano, each advancing to the next once the sound has decayed from the previous chord (hence the album title). For all its delicacy and silences, you’re actually hearing three renditions superimposed on one another, which occasionally makes for some charming chordal collisions (reminiscent of the cheerfully clumsy, subversive “variations” of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D major” on Eno’s own Discreet Music, the most celebrated Obscure release). This is process music at its most fragile and incandescent. In hindsight it may have also been an unconscious influence on the structure of my piece “A New York Minute,” which lines up a month’s worth of weather reports from news radio, edited so that one day’s forecast follows its prediction from the previous day. I’ve never found the album’s other piece, “Bell Set No. 1,” to be quite as compelling, and Nyman’s other soundtrack work doesn’t hold much interest for me, but I’ve often returned to this album.

11. J Dilla Donuts (Stones Throw, 2006): One more for the road. Rightfully acclaimed as a masterpiece of instrumental hip hop, I have to confess I only discovered Donuts while reading Questlove’s 2013 book Mo’ Meta Blues, where he compared it to Terry Riley. The brevity of the tracks (31of ‘em in 44 minutes) and the lack of single-mindedness make categorizing Donuts as a Minimal album a bit of a stretch, but Questlove’s namecheck makes a whole lot of sense if you play “Don’t Cry” back to back with Riley’s proto-Plunderphonic “You’re Nogood,” and “Glazed” is the only hip hop track to ever remind me of Philip Glass. Plus the infinite-loop sequencing of the opening “Outro” and concluding “Intro” make this a statement of Eternal Music that outstrips La Monte Young and leaves any locked groove release in the proverbial dust. There isn’t the space here to really explore how extended mixes, all night disco DJ sets, etc. could be encountered in alignment with Minimalism, although I would steer the curious towards Pete Rock’s Petestrumentals (BBE, 2001), Larry Levan’s Live at the Paradise Garage (Strut, 2000), and, at the risk of being immodest, my own “The Old Victrola” from Plays Well (Crank Automotive, 2001). On a (somewhat) related note I’d also point out Rupie Edwards’ Ire Feelings Chapter and Version (Trojan, 1990) which collects 16 of the producer/performer’s 70s dub reggae tracks, all built from the exact same same rhythm track--mesmerizing, even by dub’s trippy standards. 

Addendum:

Tony Conrad: “Maybe someday Tony’s blistering late 80s piece ‘Early Minimalism’ will be released, or his fabulous harmonium soundtrack to Piero Heliczer’s early 60s film The New Jerusalem.” That was the last line of my entry on Tony’s Outside the Dream Syndicate in the first Top Ten list in 1995, and sure enough, Table of the Elements issued “Early Minimalism” as a monumental CD box set in 1997 and released that soundtrack as Joan of Arc in 2006 (it’s the same film; I saw it screened c. 1990 under the name The New Jerusalem but it’s more commonly known as Joan of Arc).  Tony releases proliferated in the last twenty years of his life, which was heartening to see; I’d particularly single out Ten Years Alive on the Infinite Plain (Superior Viaduct, 2017), which rescues a 1972 live recording of what is essentially a prototype for Outside played by Tony, Rhys Chatham, and Laurie Spiegel (Rhys has mentioned his initial disgruntlement upon hearing Outside, as it was the same piece that he had played with Tony, i.e. “Ten Years Alive,” but he found himself and Laurie replaced by Faust!) and an obscure compilation track, “DAGADAG for La Monte” (on Avanto 2006, Avanto, 2006), where he plays the pitches d, a, and g on violin, loops them over and over , and continually re-harmonizes them electronically--really one of his best pieces.

Terry Riley: The archival Riley CDs that Cortical Foundation issued in the 90s and early 00s don’t seem to be in print, but I feel they eclipse Reed Streams (reissued by Cortical as part of that series) and are crucial for fans of his early work, especially the live Poppy Nogood’s Phantom Band All Night Flight Vol. 1, an important variant on the studio take, and You’re Nogood (see Dilla entry above). These days I would also recommend Descending Moonshine Dervishes (Kuckuck, 1982/recorded 1975) over  Persian Surgery Dervishes (Shandar, 1975), which I mentioned in the original entry on Reed Streams in the first Top Ten; a lot of the harmonic material in Descending can also be heard in Terry’s dream-team 1975 meeting with Don Cherry in Köln, which has been bootlegged several times in the last few years. Finally, Steffen Schleiermacher recorded the elusive “Keyboard Study #1” (as well as “#2,” which had already seen release in a version by Germ on the BYG label and as “Untitled Organ” on Reed Streams), albeit on a programmed electronic keyboard, on the CD Keyboard Studies (MDG, 2002). As you might expect it’s a little synthetic-sounding, but it also has a weird kinetic edge (imagine the “Baba O’Riley” intro being played on a Conlon Nancarrow player piano) that’s lacking in later acoustic piano renditions recorded by Gregor Schwellenbach and Fabrizio Ottaviucci. But any of these versions is rewarding for those interested in Riley’s early output.

Henry Flynt, Charlemagne Palestine: A few of the artists on that first Top Ten list went from being sorely under-documented to having a plethora of material on the market, and Henry and Charlemagne are at the top of the heap. I stand by You Are My Everlovin, finally reissued on CD by Recorded in 2001, as Henry’s peak achievement, but I’m also partial to “Glissando,” a tense, feverish raga drone from 1979 that Recorded put out on the Glissando No. 1 CD in 2011. Charlemagne’s Four Manifestations On Six Elements double album still holds up well, as does an album of material initially recorded for it, Arpeggiated Bösendorfer and Falsetto Voice (Algha Marghen, 2017). The Strumming Music LP on Shandar is a definitive performance, and best heard as an unbroken piece on the New Tone CD reissue from 1995. Godbear (CD on Barooni, vinyl on Black Truffle), originally recorded for Glenn Branca’s Neutral label (which had also scheduled a Phill Niblock release before going belly-up), has 1987 takes of “Strumming Music” and two other massive pieces that date from the late 70s, “Timbral Assault” and “The Lower Depths”; Algha Marghen released a vintage full-length concert of the latter as a triple CD.

Steve Reich: Not a particularly rare record, but his “Variations on Winds, Strings and Keyboards,” a 1979 piece for orchestra on a 1984 LP issued by Phillips (paired with an orchestral arrangement of John Adams’ “Shaker Loops”), is often overlooked among the works from his “golden era” and I’d frankly rate it as his best orchestral piece.

Phill Niblock, Eliane Radigue: As with Henry and Charlemagne, after a slow start as “recording artists” loads of CDs by these two have appeared over the last twenty years. Phill and Eliane’s music was never best served by the vinyl format anyway—you won’t find a lackluster release by either composer, go to it.

Jon Gibson: I called “Cycles,” from Gibson’s Two Solo Pieces, “one of the ultimate organ drones on record” in the first Top Ten list, and it remains so, but Phill Niblock’s”Unmounted/Muted Noun” from 2019′s Music for Organ ought to sit right beside it. Meanwhile, Superior Viaduct’s recent Gibson double album Songs & Melodies 1973-1977 collects some great pieces from the same era as Two Solo Pieces, with players including Arthur Russell, Peter Zummo, Barbara Benary, and Julius Eastman. 

John Stevens: In Top Ten #2 I mentioned John Stevens’ presence on the first side of John Lennon & Yoko Ono’s Life With the Lions; the Stevens-led Spontaneous Music Orchestra’s For You To Share (1973) documents his performance pieces “Sustained Piece” and “If You Want to See A Vision,” where musicians and vocalists sustain tones until they run out of breath and then begin again, which result in a highly meditative and organic drone/sound environment. In my early 00′s Digger Choir performances at Issue Project Room  we did “Sustained Piece,” and Stevens’ work was a big influence on conceptualizing those concerts, where the only performers were the audience themselves. The CD reissue on Emanem from 1998 added “Peace Music,” an unreleased studio half-hour studio cut with a similar Gagaku--meets--free/modal jazz vibe. I also mentioned “Sustained Piece” in my liner notes to Natural Information Society’s Mandatory Reality too, if that helps as a point of reference.

Anthony Moore: Back in ’97 I wondered “How and why Polydor was convinced to release these albums [Pieces from the Cloudland Ballroom and Scenes from the Blue Bag] is beyond me (anyone know the story)?” That mystery was ultimately solved by Benjamin Piekut in his fascinating-even-if-you-never-listen-to-these-guys book Henry Cow: The World is A Problem (Duke University Press, 2019)—it turns out it was all Deutsche Gramophone’s idea!

Terry Jennings, Maryanne Amacher, Julius Eastman--“Three Great Minimalists With No Commercially Available Recordings” (sidebar from Minimal Top Ten list #2): Happily this no longer applies to these three, although Terry and Maryanne are still under-represented. One archival recording of Jennings and Charlotte Moorman playing a short version of “Piece for Cello and Saxophone” appeared on Moorman’s 2006 Cello Anthology CD box set on Alga Marghen, and he’s on “Terry’s Cha Cha” on that 2004 John Cale New York in the 60s Table of the Elements box too. John Tilbury recorded five of his piano pieces on Lost Daylight (Another Timbre, 2010) and Charles Curtis’ version of “Song” appears on the aforementioned Performances and Recordings 1998-2018 triple CD.

Whether or not Maryanne should really be considered a Minimalist (or a sound artist, for that matter) is, I guess, debatable, but I primarily see her as the unqualified genius of the generation of composers who emerged in the post-Cage era, and the classifications ultimately don’t matter—remember she was on those Swarm of Drones/ Throne of Drones/ Storm of Drones ambient techno comps in the 90s, and I’d call her music Gothic Industrial if it would get more people to check it out (and that might be fun to try, come to think of it). She made a belated debut with the release of the Sound Characters CD on Tzadik in 1998, an event I found significant enough to warrant pitching an interview with her to the WIRE, who agreed—it was my first piece for them. Her music was/is best experienced live (the Amacher concert I saw at the Performing Garage in 1993 is still, almost three decades later, the greatest concert I’ve ever witnessed) but that Tzadik CD is reasonably representative, and there was a sequel CD on Tzadik in 2008. More recently Blank Forms issued a live recording of her two-piano piece “Petra” (a concert I also attended, realizing when I got there that it was in the same Chelsea church where Connie Burg, Melissa Weaver and I recorded with Keiji Haino for the Gerry Miles with Keiji Haino CD).  While it’s somewhat anomalous in Amacher’s canon, making a piece for acoustic instruments available for home consumption would doubtless have been more palatable to the composer herself, who rightly felt that CDs and LPs didn’t do justice to the extraordinary psychoacoustic phenomena intrinsic to her electronic music. “Petra” is more reminiscent of Morton Feldman than anything else, with a few passages that could be deemed “minimal.” Some joker posted a 26-minute, ancient lo-fi “bootleg” (their term) recording of her “Living Sound, Patent Pending” piece from her Music for Sound-Joined Rooms installation/performance series on SoundCloud, which is a little like looking at a Xerox of a Xerox of a photo of the Taj Mahal; but you can still visit the Taj Mahal more easily than hearing this or any of Maryanne’s work in concert or in situ, so sadly, it’s better than nothing (and longer than the 7 minute edit of the piece on the Ohm: Early Gurus of Electronic Music CD from 2000).

A few years after Top Ten #2 I was on the phone with an acquaintance at New World Records, who told me he was listening to a Julius Eastman tape that they were releasing as part of a 3CD set. Say what?!?!? Unjust Malaise appeared shortly thereafter and was a revelation. Arnold Dreyblatt had sent me a live tape some time before then of an Eastman piece labeled “Gangrila”—that turned out to be “Gay Guerrilla,” and is surely one of my five favorite pieces of music in existence (the tape Arnold sent was from the 1980 Kitchen European tour and I consider it to be a more moving performance than the Chicago concert that appears on the CD, although it’s an inferior recording). The other multiple piano pieces on Unjust Malaise more than lived up to the descriptions of Eastman performances that I’d read. The somewhat berserk piano concert I mentioned in that entry seems similar to another live tape issued as The Zurich Concert (New World, 2017), and “Femenine,” a piece performed by the S.E.M. Ensemble, came out on Frozen Reeds in 2016. Eastman’s rediscovery is among the most vital and gratifying developments of recent music history--kudos must be given to Mary Jane Leach, herself a Minimalist composer, for diligently and doggedly tracking down Eastman’s recordings and archival materials and bringing them to the light of day.

The Lost Jockey—I was unaware of any releases by this group besides their Crepuscule LP until I stumbled onto a self-titled cassette from 1983 on YouTube. Like the album, the highlight is a piece by Orlando Gaugh--an all-time great Philip Glass rip-off, “Buzz Buzz Buzz Went the Honeybee,” which has the amusing added bonus of having the singers intoning the rather bizarre title phrase as opposed to Glassian solfège. Also like the album, he rest of the cassette is so-so Pop Minimalism.

Earth: Dylan Carlson keeps on keepin’ on, and while I can’t say I’ve kept up with him every step of the way, usually when I check in I’m glad I did. However I’d like to take this opportunity to humbly disavow the snarky comments about Sunn 0))) I made in this entry in Top Ten list #3. Those were a reflection of my general aversion to hype, which was surrounding them at the time, and of seeing two shows that in retrospect were unrepresentative (I was thunderstruck by a later show I saw in Mexico City in 2009). Stephen O’Malley has proven to be as genuinely curious, dedicated and passionate about drone and other experimental music as they come, and the reissue of the mind-blowing Sacred Flute Music from New Guinea on his Ideologic Organ label is a good reminder of how rooted Minimalism is in ethnic music, and how almost interchangeable certain examples of both can be. 

And while we’re in revisionist mode, let’s go full circle all the way back to the very first sentence of the introduction to the first Minimal Top Ten: “I know what you’re thinking: ECM Records, New Age, Eno ambients, NPR, Tangerine Dream. Well forget all that shit.” Hey, that stuff’s not so bad! I was probably directing that more at the experimental-phobic indie rock folks I encountered at the time, and expressing a lingering resentment towards the genre-confusion of the 80s (i.e. having dig through a bunch of Kitaro records in the New Age bins in hopes of finding Reich, Riley, or Glass; even Loren Mazzacane got tagged New Age once in a while back then, believe it or not), which probably hindered my own discovery of Minimalism. What can I say, I’m over it!

Copyright © 2020 Alan Licht. All rights reserved. Do not repost without permission.

[twohearts-hs]

‘Unfair Love’ - Harry Styles Imagine

Words: 4.7k

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: She loved him so much, yet he whispered the words she never wanted to hear, “I don’t love you anymore”. She later learns out he loved someone else and she decides to be selfish and take something from him, just like how she took him from her and how he took everything from Y/N. So, she didn’t tell him about the child in her stomach. Years later, he finds out and he begins to question who he really wants...his wife or her.

|| Masterlist in bio ||

-

In her mind, she chose to think of the good times, the cuddles, the kisses in the rain, the secret hand holding, type of good times. Though beneath that truth there laid more that went under the category of “the bad times”. They were opposites, and as they say, “opposites attract”. That saying is true, they were attracted to one another, more than that, they loved each other. But, they weren’t meant to be together.

So, they fought and yelled and screamed at one another. Tears fell on both Harry and Y/N’s face as they terrified one another with their actions and words. He had enough after a while and called it quits, walked out as if nothing just happened and left his fiancé on the floor in her own pool of tears.

He said that he didn’t love her anymore, she wanted to believe, but she couldn’t. He was her Harry, the boy that she spent six years of her life with. Y/N believed he still loved her but used that excuse to get out and to run, and he was damn good at running away. Yet, he didn’t even say goodbye.

-

“Tell me,” she screamed, tear flooding her eyes in the dark kitchen lit by a dim light, “tell me what I can do for you to stay with me.”

Harry looked at her, running his hands in his hair as he bit his lip, “I have to go, Y/N. I have to put food on the fucking table, I have to pay the bills and to do what I do. You aren’t first, Y/N. I am first, my needs are first,” Harry yelled back.

She shook her head, “I know that. You think I am so fucking selfish to think I come first above you. I just expected to not have a distant relationship. I expected you to be home more with me. I expected you to love me-”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,”

“Stop, let me finish for once. But, then you phone me high or drunk, you get pictured with girls, you tell me its PR and that it's for show. But, I have been hurt too many times too-”

“I don’t love you anymore,” he muttered, stopping her mid-argument.

The room fell slight, as the tears stop and now two strangers stood staring at each other.

“What?” she broke the silence, putting her hand down on the counter to steady herself for what she heard.

He said it again, one word after the other at a slow pace, “I don’t love you. I met someone else.”

“You told me,” she began, looking at the floor, “that I was the one. You placed a ring on my finger to match your words and now you mumble that you love me and you found someone else,” she screamed, not believing him.

“You’re not...you’re not the one,” he muttered back, pivoting and heading to the door. Y/N watched him, grab his coat.

“Who is she?”

“You better be out by tomorrow,” is all he muttered before closing the door.

-

She listened calling her friend and asking if she could crash on his couch and which he obliged and said: “of course”. Austin was devastated by Harry’s words and actions to his fiancé but left it to their business.

It didn’t take long for Harry to move on, a little interview he explained that he has a new girlfriend and he already believed that she is the love of his life. Y/N turned off the interview with hatred for the man, as she stared in the distance. He was an ass, a complete ass and she came to peace with it.

But, she had to let Harry go. She found out she was expecting not long afterwards and she knew that’ll be best that she let him go, it’ll be better for both of them, including their child.

Y/N wouldn’t lie when she’d say it was a tough process of going through the pregnancy with only her best friend as her support. She remembered telling Austin what happened and he was so happy and begged to call the child after Cher. Of course, Y/N declined his begging as she had no right of mind to do that, but she was glad to have her best friend on her side throughout this.

She remembers the time when she first told Austin about Harry, how he laughed and didn’t believe her. But she showed pictures and Austin, being himself, called Harry “absolutely dripping hot” and “I bet he’s good in bed” and he was right. She remembers the time that Austin tried to get with Harry’s best mate, and she was placed in the freight of laughter for the rest of the evening, as Alex had no idea what was happening. He was a good friend, Austin, someone she could trust with her life and a perfect model to help raise her baby.

Austin was amazing, being a little older than her, he was more mature when it came to the process. He was all over the clothes and decorations; he designed the whole bedroom in their little three bedroom flat. They decided to be partners in raising this child and it was a success. He was a little over thirty and she was twenty-six, both mature adults with wide-eyed views and beliefs. If he wasn’t gay, they’d be the perfect couple. He was there for every step, bump and success and when she held her baby boy, she knew she couldn’t love anything more.

Y/N remembers the days after she found out. She knew she had to tell Harry, it was only fair, but the response that she got wasn’t good.

-

She thumbed her hands as she stood up on the familiar steps of a home she called hers for many years. Her hands graced the doorbell as she repeated the words in her head. How do you tell your ex-fiancé you’re pregnant? The doorbell echoed in the townhouse as she turned around, hearing footsteps.

“Hello?” she heard an unfamiliar voice, she turned around and saw someone she has never seen, a female.

“Hi, is Harry there?” she asked, the lady looked at her and bit her lip.

“You’re Y/N aren’t you?” she asked sceptically, looking at the girl.

That’s when someone else entered the picture, “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Harry appeared from behind the thin, blonde woman. Y/N stumbled her words, as Harry put on a t-shirt.

“You cut your hair,” she mumbled, “I liked it longer,” Harry gave an awkward smile.

“I like is shorter,” he mumbled back and stared at her, leaning against the doorframe, hands crossed at his chest, tattoos on display.

“Well, I am Aubrey, Harry’s girlfriend,” the girl said, beginning to close the door, but Harry stopped her.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hissed.

Now or never, she looked at him, and pulled something out of her pocket, “My engagement ring, because as you said, I am not the one.”

She chose to be selfish in this scenario, she was going to raise the baby alone.

-

The birthing was hard, but of course, it would be. Austin held her hand as she pushed, and their baby boy was born. He took on Y/N’s last name and a strong name of Otis. Otis Atticus Y/L/N was born in August to Y/N and she has never felt that kind of love before when she looked into the green-eyed, dark-haired baby boy and she knew she was never going to tell Harry her little secret.

-

A few years later, Harry visited his mum in Chesire with his wife, Aubrey. It was a little family get together in the summer to have a barbeque and to have small talk and catch up. He didn’t expect what the information he’d find out.

Aubrey was out somewhere, sipping her gin and tonic with his sister when Harry was helping his mum out in the kitchen. He was talking about the new album and Aubrey’s job as a teacher and it was just catch up.

Anne looked at her son cutting up vegetables when she said something, “Do you still talk to Y/N?” Harry hasn’t heard that name in ages and it took him a moment to figure out who this was...his ex-fiancé.

“No, haven’t talked to her in ages...since we broke up,” he replied, Anne took a sip of her wine and looked at her son, not really thinking of the chances.

“Well, I follow her on Facebook still and her son just turned five. Niall, Louis and some of your friends were there and I just thought you’d know, but it seems you don’t,” Harry turned around from the counter and stared at his mum, knife in hand, apron saying “kiss the chef” and gave a wide-eyed look.

“Y/N has a kid? Wait...she’s married? That doesn’t make sense,” Harry questioned.

“Well, it looks like this guy named Austin is-”

“Austin is gay. Who’s the father?” He spat out, Anne laughed shaking her head.

“You are so not over her,” she rolled her eyes, teasing him. “The first thing you thought is who the hell the father is. Who is in your ex’s life, who replaced you? It doesn’t matter, Harry. She is happy, you are happy,” Anne glared at him.

Harry couldn’t believe her, he looked up, “I am fucking married, mum. I am over my ex.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. You sound like it is your child...you are worried about who is the father because you sound like you think it is yours,” she told him.

“Because it probably is, mum. Y/N and I broke up like five years ago and the kid is five,” he requited, glaring at his mum with attitude.

“If it is, you better bloody find out, Harry. You wife is outside, thinking that everything is all picking daisies and you two are trying for a child. You should find out if your future baby might have a half-sibling. Y/N doesn’t muck around...I knew that girl for a long time. Shit, Harry, you bloody hell grew up with her.”

-

Y/N walked up to the next step in her life. A bright red brick building laid in front of her as she tried to cover her tears.

“Well, O, this is it. You are truly going to a big boy school now,” she said, turning to her little boy with curly brown hair and bright green eyes. He smiled, holding his backpack.

“Mummy, it is going to be ok,” Y/N leant down, looking at him as she took his tiny hands and rubbing the tears.

“Save the tears for when I finish school...that’ll be like hundreds of years from now,” she laughed at her little one.

“Well, I hope so. I am not ready to see you go to year one, let alone finishing year thirteen, meister. Now go before I kidnap you and take you home,” she laughed, tickling him.

She grabbed his hands as they went up to the “big” steps into the building. They made small chatter as they walked the halls of the school.

“What’s my teacher’s name?” he asked, she shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know, bub, I was just given the instructions to sign you in and they’ll tell me,” she told him, heading to the desk. 

“Otis Y/L/N,” she told the lady as she looked at the list.

“Looks like your teacher is,” she led on while looking at the list, “Mrs Styles.”

Y/N froze for a second and shrugged it off, heading to the room she was told. It wasn’t possible, but it still was; her past was still haunting her.

She walked into the room and saw the woman she really didn’t want to see. Other kids were in the room and Otis was making comments about the “cool trucks” in the corner. Y/N agreed with her son and continued to stand in the line to meet the bitch who stole her fiancé, who is now her son’s teacher.

The blonde waved to her student and looked up, making eyes with Y/N. She smiled and gave a wave to her son.

“Aubrey,” Y/N smiled, walking towards her.

“Y/N…it’s nice seeing you again,” she smiled - so fake - to her.

Y/N decided to not make it awkward, “This is Otis.”

-

Harry opened the door to his home; a new one that he purchased before he got married. A heavy sigh left his lips as he dropped his keys to his Range Rover on the counter and entered to see his wife sitting on the couch.

“Hey, love,” he muttered, but all he heard is silence. He turned on his feet and looked at his wife cuddled in the couch, holding a very large glass of red wine. Which was odd of her as the calories are higher in that than a vodka soda or white wine.

She turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “I saw Y/N today...your ex-fiancé,” she told him. Harry took a breath and bit his lip. “Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, looking at him and keeping her distance.

He took a minute and looked at his wife, not knowing how to form the words.

“She has a fucking child, Harry and if I did my math correctly, it’s probably yours,” she snapped, Harry looked down. She rolled her eyes, “You fucking knew. I am sitting here trying to get pregnant, where you accidentally knocked her up a few years ago. We’ve been trying for years, Harry and you put your cock in-”

“She was my fiancé, Aubrey. It wasn’t a fucking one night stand. I don’t even know if it's my child, she may have been cheating or she hooked up with someone right after we broke up, or maybe it is on purpose and she picked some random sperm. I don’t know!” he told her, anger rushing through his veins. “Don’t accuse me of something before you know the facts,” he mumbled, heading to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

“I am teaching her child,” she told him, still holding that glare, “and I look at him and all I can see is you.”

“Again, I don’t know the details, so be nice,” he mumbled sitting next to her. Silence arose before he broke it again, “What’s his name? What does he look it?” he began, still not meeting his wife’s look.

“For fucks sakes, Harry. His name is Otis and he is the spitting image of you,” she grumbled. “If you want her fucking address or something, I can’t due to privacy laws.”

-

Y/N walked up to the steps to the school. Its been two weeks since Otis started school and he was adjusting really well. He was a really tough boy, as he says. He didn’t cry or scream to go home or to never go again. In all ways, he really enjoys year one and Y/N is really happy for that. He has made friends, playdates already have happened and she is going out to coffee with some of the mums.

She messaged the school explaining that she’ll be a little late due to her work, which they were happy to take him for the small half hour.

Y/N entered the classroom with a smile on her face, “So sorry, I had a surgery that went over time and I couldn’t get out of it,” she said, looking at Aubrey, but also seeing someone she really didn’t want to see.

“Hey,” Harry said, sitting at the carpet with her son playing cars with him.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N snapped, moving quickly to her son and grabbing him.

“Y/n, kitten—” she interrupted him.

“No, you don’t have the right to come to my son’s school to get to me and to have the decency to call me a nickname that was between us in front of your wife, Harry. Get away from me,” she remarked, telling Otis it is time to go.

“Mummy, I want to stay with ‘Arry,” Y/N rolled her eyes and looked at him.

“Let’s get this over and done with. Your wife is here, so let’s keep no secrets,” she began, as Harry was still watching Otis play while listening. She had no idea why so much anger was coming out now, but she’s been holding this since he left. “You broke my heart. I had to cancel a whole wedding, I had to call my mother and tell her my fiancé has left me, and I had to explain to your mother because you were too embarrassed. I was so in love with you, Harry and you just left. You simply backed out. I didn’t know whether it was from you cheating on me or you simply just fell out of love. You hurt me and it doesn’t help that your wife is my son’s teacher and I come here to you,” she kept her ground and let it all out. “Now, ask away.”

“Is he mine?” Harry looked up, begging with his eyes.

“You are such an asshole,” she began but got interrupted by her son telling her that she used a bad word. “I just poured my heart out and the first thing you ask is if your sperm found my egg,” she shook her head and began to get up.

Harry reached out, grabbing her arm and looked at her, “I loved you so much, but I fell in love with another woman and I couldn’t hurt you,” he told her. Aubrey watched next to him, hand on his thigh.

“I can’t believe you,” Y/N muttered, sitting back down. “Congrats Harry Styles, not only have you won asshole of the decade but you’re also a father to my son,” she told him, glaring. “Now don’t get your lawyers involved, because I am not a broke little college student anymore, I am a surgeon, so if you want to pick a fight, I’ll bark and bite back,” she told him, getting up and grabbing her son’s hand and heading to the door.

“Y/N!” she stopped in her tracks and looked ahead, not turning around to her ex, “When you came over that one time, it wasn’t to drop off a ring, it was to tell me. What made you change your mind?” He asked, standing metres apart, him in a suit and her in her scrubs.

She turned around slowly, “Your selfishness and I faced that fact that you’re not a good person,” she whispered and darted her eyes to his wife, “you moved on so quick. You took everything from me, so I decided to reciprocate and take something from you,��� she replied and walked out.

It took a while for Harry to move from his position in the room. He felt so much weight on him, the news of his son and the heavy glare from his wife, but she walked in front of him and looked at him.

“What are you going to do, Harry?” she asked, hands on her small hips as she looked at him. Harry swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing and he looked ahead.

“I want to get to know my son,” he whispered.

-

Y/N sat in front of her TV, watching the same old telly that her son watches as she hugged a nice cup of tea. She already had a few glasses of wine, so now it was time to slow it down and to spend time with her baby.

Harry hasn’t said anything and it has been a few days. She told Austin what happened and he said to brace for lawyers, as Harry loves having to have them involved. She remembers when they were together that Harry always threatened with the law, the law was always involved. It seemed that he was almost scared of fighting without help. But, she laughed it off and continued to watch Paw Patrol.

A little past seven, she heard a knock on her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone so she braced herself for human interaction. Austin was in America with his company and none of her friends dropped her a text that they’d be over. So, she reckoned that it was a survey or a package for Austin.

“Harry?” she questioned, he turned around and looked. He just stared, fumbling over words.

“Aubrey kicked me out. I called Austin and he gave me your address,” he finally managed to get out. Y/N opened the door and he walked in, placing his jacket on the stairs. “You must hate me,” he mumbled, turning around.

“Want a whiskey?” she ignored the accusation and changed the topic and heading to the kitchen. Harry mumbled his answer as he nursed the glass that was given.

“I want to be present in Otis’ life,” he mumbled, sitting at the counter as Y/N packed the dishwasher. “I won’t get lawyers involved, I just want to be present and to be there—”

“What happened with Aubrey?” Y/N asked.

Harry huffed, “She thinks I lied a lot about some things and I didn’t. Aubrey is extremely self-conscious when it comes to shit,” he told her, running his hands through his hair, “like she questions every woman, everything I do, always doubting herself. Fuck, kitten, she’s a living breathing jealousy monster,” he told her, as he chugged the rest of the whiskey in his cup.

“I felt the same,” she began, drying the dishes in the sink, “I felt like I was never good enough for you–”

“But, kitten, you didn’t question everything, you gave me space, you let me do what I wanted, you never controlled me,” he told her, looking up. She doesn’t know why she wasn’t angry at him, it could be the alcohol running through her veins or she got all her feelings off her chest during those few weeks ago. 

“She’s being a wife,” Y/N stated, handing him a cup of tea and trading his empty glass.

Footsteps entered the room and little tired boy came in clutching his blanket and rubbing his eyes. Harry looked at him with so much love and Y/N just broke. The emotions began to enter, the guilt; she should’ve told Harry.

“She’s a stalker, kitten,” he told her, as Y/N went to pick up her son, held him at the hip and carefully bounced him to the kitchen.

Harry looked at him and Y/N watched. She went over to him, placed him on Harry’s lap and told him, “Hold him, I’ll get his cup of milk before bed.”

Harry looked at Otis, watching as his tiny head fell onto his chest and his eyes fluttered closed. He did something so pure, in Y/N’s eyes, he rocked him while whispering lyrics to his songs.

“His delivery was long. I was in labour for twenty hours. Austin held my hand and I named him–”

“I always wanted to call my boy Otis or Alfie,” he told her, a light chuckle left his lips, “you wanted to call your first Atticus. You named him after what I desired,” he told her.

Y/N smiled, handing him the milk as Harry gently placed it between the little one’s lips, “It was the least I could do, plus I loved the name. He looks more of an Otis than an Atticus,” she told him from across the counter. Harry looked back down, the little one grabbed the sippy cup and gently drank his milk. “He has Atticus as his middle name though. He was a tiny baby, six pounds, one ounce, but I fell in love the moment he was placed in my arms. A mother’s love is so pure and so mysterious. I’d never love anyone else the way I love him,” she told him, Harry looked up and smiled.

“Where’s his bedroom, he’s asleep, kitten?” Y/N walked towards the staircase as Harry followed.

A nice townhouse she lived in, not too big, but perfect, it screamed Y/N to him. His bedroom was cute, little rockets on the walls, space on the ceiling. Y/N loved the stars, he remembers. She named their first cat Leo after the constellation and she swore that her kids middle names should be based off the stars, but she named her son different and that’s ok.

Harry placed the bundle of joy gently on the bed, he kissed his son’s head and tucked him in. Y/N watched from afar, leaning against the door frame as Harry mumbled words into his tiny curls. Her mother was right, his mother was right, they were still in love.

She whispered her sweet words, telling Otis “I love you and sweet dreams.” They exited the room, closing the door behind them as they made their way back to the kitchen.

They settled down, nursing cups of tea and shared stories together for the rest of the night, but a topic came up.

“Aubrey and I have been trying for kids for years,” he told her, eyes still interconnected. “She was so pissed off when she found out about Otis. I understand, but I bursted the hope bubble between us for the chance of a child. She can’t have them and now I realise that this is a sign, that we can’t be together anymore.”

A sigh left Y/N’s lips as she connected the words in her head, “Harry, don’t let our past come between us. You don’t love me, you love the idea of a family and you think this is a better option. It is not. You love Aubrey, there are other options. I am a doctor and I can help you two. I am a mother to our son, not your lover or your wife. She’s the one you’re supposed to go home to, not me,” she told him, placing a hand on his cheek.

“I don’t know if I love her anymore, kitten,” he told her, kissing the hand on his cheek and she shook her head.

He called her kitten, she called him peaches. That was something between them, a past so far buried. But, he had to bring it up. He called her kitten as she hated cats, but that changed a few years into their relationship as she bought them a cat. As she said, “Your kitten, now has a kitten,” and laughter was shared between them.

“Who do you love then?” she asked, pulling her hand away. ‘Boundaries,’ she whispered to herself. At that moment, his wedding band shone brighter than ever.

“You,” he whispered, leaning in, but she couldn’t.

Y/N placed a finger on his lips, “No you don’t. You love the idea of us. You stopped loving me the moment you set your eyes on Aubrey in the little café on Baker Street. You stopped loving me the moment you woke up next to her. You stopped loving me when you destroyed our relationship by cheating on me. You don’t love me, you love her. You love Otis, you love the future children you’ll have with her. You’ll never love me again and that’s ok,” she told him, getting up and placing her mug on the counter.

“If you want to stay the night, the guest room is on the second right upstairs. I am going to bed, Harry, goodnight,” she told him, heading upstairs to her room.

And indeed, he did stay the night, but he was gone the next morning and she woke up with a requested appointment from Aubrey to help succeed in her getting pregnant.

-

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[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (14)-[CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In  the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their   Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount   Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El   finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of   her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so   terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

A/N: this doesn’t count as writing, bc i didn’t write it im just converting shshshs. plus im falling more and more in love with Kara each week. also, i’m redoing my masterlist since i changed my url and none of the links work so. 

There were numbers for everything and everyone that Y/N Hastings could possible need, including three theaters, on her new phone.

There was also Angry Birds, which she was perfectly willing to blame for the fact that it took her an hour and a half to text Kara back after her “Good morning :)” message. It felt a little strange, when she realized it, that she didn’t feel panicked as she normally did when she took so long to do something. But that was probably because when she texted back a hello and an apology (blaming the game) for being delayed, all she got back was another smiley, and a cheerful “Hope you’re having fun!” What little uncertainty Y/N had vanished with that response, replaced with a warm feeling that maybe, just maybe, sometimes it was okay to do things on her own time.

But now, the game aside, Y/N sat staring at her contacts list, or, more importantly, at those three theater numbers. Her thumb settled over one, labeled National City Playhouse, and she pressed it, then the call button.

Two rings, then, “National City Playhouse?”

Y/N hung up.

She tried the next number. And hung up as soon as they answered.

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch in Nia’s living room, where she’d been lounging around, and began to pace the floor. Miss Kara had done so much for her, Y/N thought. She wanted to do something in return, and not only that but she wanted to see her again. It had been two days since she’d seen Miss Kara. She’d told Y/N she had to do some travelling for SETS, a seminar she needed to attend. And though Y/N knew Miss Kara had a job to do, it didn’t stop her from feeling a little lost in her absence. Y/N had spent the time watching television and going to her therapies at the House. She’d talk to Nia in the evenings when they had dinner, but as much as they shared in common, it still wasn’t the same as being with Miss Kara. Y/N had yet to venture back out into town, even though Nia had let it slip that they were running low on food supplies. That had made Y/N feel guilty, even as Nia had hastened to explain that she was just trying to help Y/N go out, not that she blamed her for anything.

The one bright spot had been last night’s phone call before bed; Kara had called her to let her know she’d be home the following day, finally. Y/N had lain in her bed with the cell phone pressed to her ear, smiling at Kara’s quiet questions. Had she been taking care of herself? Had she been eating enough? Was Nia being good to her? Did she talk anymore to Maggie? And then her gentle laughter when Y/N had turned the questions back on her. Both of them had reassured the other that yes, they were taking care of themselves… and yes, they missed each other.

So Y/N wanted to do something when Kara came back the next day, to show her that she had missed her, and that she was glad she’d come home. And she knew Kara loved the theater, so…

It was time for her to plan a date. But there would be no planning, and no date, if Y/N couldn’t even talk to a stranger on the other end of the line.

She stared once more at the phone, before selecting a number, and dialing.

“Hey, little Y/N, what’s up?” There was some shuffling, then Ask her if she’s okay in the background, and Y/N smiled. “You okay?”

“I’m all right, but I do need your help.”

“Ooh, if it’s help you need, I’m your girl. Toilet stopped up? Creepy attic needing exploring? Any assholes from a former life that maybe need tracking down and—“

“Maggie Sawyer-Danvers.”

That was Alex, and Y/N giggled.

“Sorry, Ma’am. Really though, Y/N, what’s up?”

“I need to know about theaters in National City.”

“… Ma’am? I think you better take this one.” She could hear Alex chuckling, then a sound as if Maggie’s phone was put on speaker. “I don’t know anything about the theaters except Ma’am and I went with Kara a couple times, like I told you. I never pay attention to what’s showing; I just know that we have to get front row seats because Kara gets cranky if someone tall sits in front of her.”

“She could always sit on my lap if that happens.” The words were out before she could even think, and Y/N clamped her mouth shut. Stupid, she told herself. Stupid, stupid, she’s not even your Mistress.

There was a pause, and then Alex’s voice came over the phone, dry and amused. “She could indeed. Y/N, why the sudden interest in theaters? She didn’t put numbers in your phone, did she?”

“Yes?”

“Ah, as she did when she picked up mine one day. Sneaky girl, our Kara.”

Y/N turned pink at “our,” and said quickly, “I want to take her on a date. To the theater. But I.. I don’t…” She trailed off.

How did you tell a Dominant – a female Dominant – that you didn’t know how to do something? Those words had never been good for her; they’d never gotten her anything more but a slap and a disgusted “Well you’d better learn.” But there wasn’t really any way for her to learn; Sir didn’t allow her on the internet and it wasn’t like she could call up her mother and father to ask them. That would have been awkward enough if all contact with them hadn’t been virtually cut off the minute she turned sixteen.

Russell and Judy Hastings had also been an arranged claim. Their pairing, however, had been a little later than Y/N’s; Russell Hastings had wanted to establish himself in the business world first, as his father had done before him, and so he finally claimed Judy when he was twenty-three. By all accounts theirs was a good match, at least in public. Judy was classy and graceful; Russell stern and proud, always ready with a smile and a glass in his hand. When Y/N was born, she was paraded in the parties and in town as the product of how “old society” worked, and was better. She was the perfect example of arranged claims done right.

But away from the parties, Y/N had grown up as a shy little girl in the stifling air of the Hastings household. Her father was loving and firm with his submissive when they were out of the public eye, but in the privacy of their home, he was indifferent at best, and cold at the worst. Judy drowned her sorrows in the alcohol that her husband kept readily available for his clients, and Y/N was fairly certain her mother suffered for that transgression once the bedroom doors were closed.  But in the mornings her mother would put on a brave face, even as she moved a little stiffly, and told Y/N how wonderful it would be when she was in the arms of her own Sir.

Y/N had doubted it, and now, she knew her instincts had been right.

James had gradually taken away her contact with her parents; she had initially called them once every few days to catch up, though her father would immediately hand the phone to her mother after a few cursory pleasantries, and her mother always seemed to be in a hurry to fix dinner, or get to a social gathering, or anything that would let her hang up the phone as quickly as possible. But Y/N needed to call, needed that last tenuous hold on the life she’d left behind, even if it had been less than ideal. James, however, seemed to have different ideas, and every weekend or holiday she was to spend with her parents, something always came up and she was to remain at home. Finally, the opportunities to see them had just faded away… and her parents never made the effort.

The last time she tried to call was that night.

“You don’t know how to set it up.”

Y/N turned her attention back to Alex, whose voice was soft and understanding. She nodded, and then rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to see that.

“Yes. I mean no, no, I don’t. Can you… help me?”

She felt the panic rising up within her, and Y/N clenched her hand, not holding the phone, against the heat that began to course down her upper arms, the signal that she knew all too well. Her jaw was tight and she clutched hard to the phone with her other hand, waiting for what she knew would inevitably come. Because it always came: derision, laughter, irritation, anger.

“Of course I can help you.”

Y/N blinked. Well, that was unexpected. “You can?” she said, wanting to be sure. Maybe it was a trick, some kind of trap designed to lure her into a false sense of security.

“As I said, of course I can. Why don’t you and I meet somewhere and we can discuss options?”

And there it was. The snare, the net, the cage. Maybe she was one of those Dominants that wanted another pet; Si- James had often hinted that he wanted another, someone who was “easier to live with.” Then again, he’d also told Y/N that she could be replaced. She felt that familiar dread within her, that waking moment when she’d lay in bed and wonder was this it, the day she’d be out on the street with nothing and no one to protect her?

It was strange, Y/N thought briefly, as she began to stutter out her objections, that in the end, she had walked into the street with nothing, and no one to protect her.

“N-no, that’s all right, I’ll figure it out, I-I’ll just call and ask and m-maybe the theater people will—“

“Hey, little Y/N,” Maggie interrupted. “Do you like ice cream?”

Y/N furrowed her brow. “Yes?”

“Cool, so do I. And Ma’am promised I could have ice cream after I finally learned that Fiddler On the Roof isn’t a metal album. Hey, maybe I do know something about musicals. Anyway, why don’t we go get some ice cream? You, me, Ma’am? In the park? Public place, and we can talk about these big plans you have to sweep Kara off her feet.”

“I don’t know…” Y/N said slowly.

“It’s a public park, Y/N,” Alex responded gently. “There are usually quite a lot of people around this time of day, and I assure you that neither Maggie nor I will keep you from going home if you want to. Also ice cream cones.”

“Ice cream is good,” Y/N found herself giggling. She took a deep breath. Could she trust her? She’d been with Maggie and that was nice, but… Maggie was submissive too. She could probably do whatever she wanted to Y/N just as easily as Alex, but…

“What time do you want to meet?”

The taxi this time was easier, especially since Y/N remembered to pay the driver, and accept her change back. That didn’t extend to her actually conversing with him on the ride over to the park; he’d given up after the first five questions were met with just a stare. She probably was being rude to him, Y/N knew, but she didn’t know him, and he wasn’t Miss Kara, so she wasn’t obligated to answer him.

It was strange, being out and about in National City. Y/N had grown up here, had spent her entire life here, and yet she didn’t even know the city. She looked around the park; not seeing Alex or Maggie yet, she sat on a bench nearest the pond, feeling a little nervous. She smiled at the children who darted this way and that, playing ball and yelling back and forth to each other. What would their lives be like in a few years, she wondered. Would they be bent and broken, as she was, or would they stand straight and (fairly, if she was wearing heels) tall like Miss Kara? Their parents, those were the ones that gave Y/N the most pause. It was interesting that she couldn’t really pick up on who was in their respective roles: the man who ran his fingers through the woman’s hair as she rested her head on his lap, reading from a book; the woman who gripped another’s hand tightly as they walked along the periphery of the pond, both of them smiling warmly at Y/N as they passed. She returned the smile, only to have it fade as a man passed by her with a curt nod. She shivered a little.

It had taken her a couple of days to stop looking over her shoulder. The day she’d been brought to the House, after the hospital had released her, two people employed by the council had come to see her. They’d sat as Kara had, trying to ask her questions, trying to force her to answer, thinking if they spoke louder the answers would come. They hadn’t, and when Nia had seen Y/N’s arms wrapped around herself, the girl shaking violently in her chair, she’d sent them away. They meant well, Y/N knew, in spite of everything, but she thought they’d have sent her back to Him. After that, every new person who had come into the House she was convinced had been sent by Him. Every time the phone rang, she was sure it was Him, calling to have her brought home.

It had taken days for her to realize that she wasn’t going back. And even longer for her to realize that he was no longer Him. Every time she had thought of him in the past, each day that she rose and slept again under the rules that he had established, every detail that she had gotten wrong no matter how hard she tried, every blow of the whip that he kept stowed in a trunk in the bedroom, he had always been mentally capitalized, the God of His home and of her life. He was Sir and she was… words that stuck in her throat and hurt her chest. He was Lord and Master and she was little, and only now with Kara’s quiet “little one” uttered with affection, or Maggie’s “little Y/N” offered with a smirk and a wink, was Y/N realizing that that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He was him, and she… she was Y/N.

She heard her name, then, and she glanced up to see Maggie headed her way with Alex following beside. She flexed her fingers in and out, and jumped a little when her phone vibrated, signifying a text. She quickly opened it.

I bought you a present! I can’t wait to give it to you!

It made her feel a little guilty, amid the excitement of a present from Miss Kara. She’d already given Y/N so much… but the date, Y/N thought as she stood up to greet Maggie. The date would be her way of saying thank you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Maggie said easily. She grinned and nudged her a little. “Look at you, no chair. That’s awesome.”

Y/N blushed a little. “I-I still can’t walk for long periods of time, I might have to sit down…”

“Then sit down we will,” Alex said with a smile. “You look positively radiant, Y/N. Please wear green all the time, it ma—“

“Matches my eyes, I know,” Y/N said, and then froze. Oh no, she’d interrupted her. Would he be angry? Please don’t yell at me, she thought, as she added hastily, “Miss Kara said that, she picked out a lot of green things for me to choose from while we were shopping…”

If it was possible, Alex’s smile only grew wider as she surveyed Y/N in her light green dress, the small hair clip holding back one side of her hair. “It’s good to see that Kara has taste in clothes, or, well, someone else’s, at least.” She must’ve seen Y/N’s eyes flash because he laughed, throwing his head back. “I’m teasing, I promise. Kara’s style is unique, and completely her own.”

“I’m still not sure that’s a compliment,” Y/N muttered, but she was so relieved that Alex wasn’t angry at her that she decided to let it go.

“Shall we walk?” Alex said, offering her arm to Y/N, Maggie taking her place on her other side. When she started to walk without accepting it, she pulled some brochures out of his back pocket without missing a beat. “I brought the brochures for the theaters that you have in your phone; it has lists of everything that’s playing this year. We should be able to decide on what Kara would most like to see, using these.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you. So you think she’d… she’d like to go to the theater with me?”

Alex looked at her; once again her eyes were kind. “My dear Y/N, I think Kara would be over the moon just to stand in the same room as you.”

“You’re such a sap, Ma’am,” Maggie groaned. “Let me translate for you, Y/N: she’ll love it. Not because it’s the theater, but because it’s the theater with you.”

“Now who’s the sap?” Alex said, sticking her tongue out at her sub. “I’ve rubbed off on you.”

“Oh, I’d like you t—“

“So, those brochures?” Y/N held out her hand, and Alex gave them to her with a wink. It didn’t unsettle her as much as it should have; she wasn’t worried about what people would think as she walked through the park flanked by two women. If anything, it gave her even more protection; even in a progressive society like National City, women were treated with far more deference than men, and so most people wouldn’t have thought twice about Y/N walking with Maggie and Alex. And besides, there was always that casual, exciting dance of the unclaimed waiting to be claimed, a world of first glances and smiles, first kisses and first dates. All leading up to that blissful moment of knowing someone was yours, and you were theirs. No doubt if anyone did look twice at Y/N, they’d think her extremely lucky, to either have two subs, or be one of two.

“I don’t… know what all of these are,” Y/N confessed quietly, staring down at the lists of show names she held in her hands. “I don’t know if Miss Kara would like any of them…”

“As I said, I think she’ll be quite happy with anything you choose, simply because you are the one who did the choosing. But might I make a suggestion?” Alex asked.

Y/N nodded, and Alex pointed to one of the names in the brochure.

“Wicked?” She’d heard of it, Y/N thought, a long time ago when she was still at home. Something about it being the new big thing. Maybe it had been on the news that she’d watched while keeping an eye on Judy, passed out drunk on the sofa.

“One of Kara’s favorites. It’s a pity Funny Girl isn’t on tour at the moment, but perhaps one day you two can go to New York and see it. Wicked is a good introduction to the world of musicals, and something Kara knows far too much about, and she’ll be only too willing to share every single tiny detail with you until you are absolutely bored with it.”

“I don’t think I could ever be bored listening to her talk,” Y/N said softly, her head reeling. Wicked… Funny Girl… New York? Would she ever get to go to New York… one day? And with Miss Kara? Alex seemed to think so. Y/N blinked, realizing she had been staring at her with wide eyes.

“Now all that’s needed is for you to call,” Alex pointed out. Her smile to her was confident, reassuring.

Y/N paused for a moment, then pulled out her phone and dialed.

“National City Playhouse?”

She took a deep breath. “I’d like to reserve two tickets for a show, please.” She didn’t have a credit card, but Alex waved his at her, nodding when she promised to pay him back.

Minutes later she hung up the phone, giggling a little when Alex and Maggie whooped in triumph, clapping their hands. She’d done it. She’d just set up a date for herself and Miss Kara. It made her stand up a little straighter, walk a little better. She couldn’t wait until Miss Kara found out what she’d done.

“Maggie,” Alex said suddenly, leaning slightly across her to address her submissive. “Are you feeling well, pet? You’ve completely let us forget about the ice cream.”

“I didn’t forget, Ma’am,” Maggie said with a shrug. “But it seemed like working out the musicals thing for Kara and Y/N was more important.”

“Hmm,” Alex hummed. “I might just have to take your temperature when we get home.” Y/N saw Maggie roll her eyes; luckily Alex grinned. “Why don’t you go get ice cream for us while Y/N and I talk?” Y/N tensed, wanting to grab onto Maggie, but she was already moving away.

“What kind of ice cream do you want, Y/N?” he asked.

“I-I… vanilla,” Y/N said, and Maggie quirked an eyebrow as she walked off, backwards.

“Huh, nobody around here really likes vanilla. But okay, back in a second, Ma’am!”

She turned around, and Y/N was left alone with Maggie’s dominant. Her hands shook a little.

Alex regarded her carefully. “Public park, Y/N,” she reminded her, but there was no trace of anger or frustration in her voice. “We’re just two friends, two good friends – two best friends, you’ll get that after you see the show – who are walking and talking. That’s all, and you’re free to go whenever you like.”

Y/N hesitated, still watching after Maggie, before nodding. “All right.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Y/N felt herself growing tired. She’d been on her feet since Maggie and Alex had arrived, and now she was feeling the strain. “I think I need to sit down…”

“Of course.” Alex led her back over to the bench she’d sat on earlier, and then sat down beside her.  She was quiet, and then said, “Kara seems to be quite taken with you.”

Y/N smiled a little. “I’m… quite taken with Miss Kara.”

“I believe one can see that easily by the way your eyes light up when you say her name,” Alex said with a smile, but her next words were serious. “I worry about Kara.”

“W-worry? Why?”

“Kara is a very strong person,” Alex said, looking as if she was choosing her words as wisely as she could. “She’s had to be, with her father’s illness, and her biological mother toying with her feelings the way she did. But she’s also very susceptible to hurt and becoming overwhelmed with her emotions. Luckily she had Lena to help with—oh but you don’t know about Lena…” Alex stopped, looking suddenly annoyed with herself.

“I do, actually,” Y/N said. “Miss Kara told me about her. That Lena trained her, and that they were… lovers.”

“Were,” Alex reiterated, relief on her face that she hadn’t told Kara’s secret. “But yes, Lena helped her with that, but sometimes Kara still wants everything too much and she’s easily… hurt. I don’t want to see that happen to her.”

“I-I don’t want that to happen either.” There was a sick feeling in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. Was she going to take Kara away from her? Forbid Kara to see her, or forbid her to see Kara? She wouldn’t let her do that, Y/N suddenly decided. She wasn’t going to tell her that she couldn’t see her Miss Kara.

Her Miss Kara…

“I’d do anything to keep from hurting her.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt either,” Alex said, and Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Not that I think Kara would consciously hurt you, but you’ve been through so much, Y/N. Things that no one ever deserves to go through, and if I could find him right now and punch him without messing up my hair I would.” Y/N snorted in spite of herself, and Alex grinned at her.

“Both of you deserve much happiness, and if it’s meant to be the two of you together, then it’s meant to be. But Y/N, please be careful, for Kara’s sake and yours. You’re only just discovering what you want, and there’s so much of the world for you and Kara to find separately and together before you jump into something that has the potential to hurt you both.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “I-I know,” she said.

“And listen; if you two do end up together please… tell her argyle gives you headaches. Or that you’re allergic to bows. Something. Anything. I’m begging you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh then, and Alex joined her, as Maggie came up with the ice creams and a confused look. She felt easy, light, as they sat together on a bench at a public park in National City, listening to the birds and enjoying ice cream cones.

She felt free.

And she couldn’t wait for Miss Kara to come home.

[ashsilla]

Losses (Part Two)

Book: Platinum

Ship: Raleigh Carrera (M) x MC (Suiko Hono) with hints of Avery Wilshere (M) x MC

Rating: T

A/N: Suiko doesn’t know who to believe about recent events. Avery attempts to get back in her good graces despite Raleigh’s radio silence. The media is having a great day at her expense. But any press is good press...right? 

Tag List: @lunalixo  @furiouscloddonutpeanut @lovedrakewalker @topsyturvy-dream @padfoot0415 @omgjasminesimone @parkerattano @cordoniasmost @poor-bi-choices @msjpuddleduck @mallorycortez @coffeebeandragon @lizeboredom @perriewinklenerdie @greek-elsa

Other Parts: PART ONE

*

Suiko sat glumly in her apartment, scrolling through the top stories on EE! News.

Most of them mentioned her name.

Raleigh Carrera and Suiko Hono remain suspiciously separate after club debacle.

Avery Wilshere seen leaving Suiko Hono’s apartment — does this smell of rebound?

Avery Wilshere pictured with a black eye and bruised jaw, Raleigh Carrera pictured with bruised knuckles. Has Suiko Hono turned them from friends to foes?

All of the evidence that Avery Wilshere and Suiko Hono could have been in love this whole time.

And then of course, the worst one.

“Raleigh and I are in love”: the R&B superstar’s mystery girl speaks out in an exclusive interview with EE! News!

Suiko sighed and took another sip of her coffee. She’d been drinking way too much lately; already today she’d had three cups, and it was only 11 AM. The caffeine had given her hands a slight tremor. She pressed her shaking fingers to one of the articles and began to read.

We’re sure you’ve seen the pictures — pop icon Avery Wilshere, bruised and quiet after being seen leaving Suiko Hono’s apartment! And don’t forget the second half of the puzzle...the bruised and split knuckles on Raleigh Carrera’s hands as seen in his newest post on Pictagram.

They’ve left us dying to know what happened! Here are two of our favorite theories, as sent in by our readers.

“It’s obvious that Avery made a move on Suiko after Raleigh cheated on her! And Raleigh probably beat him up after. I just wonder if Avery fought back! Also, I kind of ship #Wilshono now.” - @youliftmeup476

“Raleigh and Avery definitely got into a fight over Suiko Hono. I bet Avery told Raleigh he wasn’t treating her right (though if you date someone like Raleigh, you’re kind of asking to be cheated on!!) and then they got into a fight over it. I personally think Avery is better for her but I guess we’ll see what happens! Oh, and if Suiko and Raleigh do break up — hi Raleigh! I’m single!” - @sun.set_skateparkk

One thing is clear: fans seem to have reached the consensus that their new favorite celebrity ship is Avery Wilshere and Suiko Hono. #Wilshono trended in the US on Twitter for almost two days after these pictures surfaced!

As always, check back for the newest updates from this story, only on EE! News. Are you team #Raluiko or team #Wilshono? Tell us in the comments!

The sinking feeling in Suiko’s chest worsened. She was about to click on another article -- that last one, the worst one -- when a sharp and efficient knock sounded at the door.

A knock like that could only be Fiona.

Suiko slouched off of the couch, pulling her fluffy robe tighter around her shoulders as she opened the door. Her manager walked in without invitation, dressed in a pressed gray pantsuit. Her heels clacked on the wooden floor.

“It’s almost noon,” Fiona said briskly, and surveyed Suiko with a scientific gaze. “You should take a shower.”

“Thanks,” Suiko replied, her voice dry.

Fiona smiled a tight-lipped smile. A business smile. “I’m assuming you’ve seen the recent headlines, and seen the response on social media. You’ve gained 100,000 new followers in the last day alone. All of this unresolved love triangle drama is great for your brand. So I need you to play it up.”

The words echoed around the room before Suiko really heard them. “Wait, what? What love triangle?”

“I need you to be seen with both of them. Don’t make anything official. Just make it seem like you can’t make up your mind between them.”

Suiko frowned. “But I --”

“I’ve already called Avery. He’s ready to see you today. Take that shower, please.” Fiona adjusted her jacket and set a folder down on Suiko’s coffee table. “Here are some date ideas, and ideas on what to post on your social media.”

There was no use arguing with Fiona. She was a force of nature.

“Okay,” Suiko said, dread already pooling in her gut.

Another tight-lipped business smile. “I’ll call you after your date,” she said, and left the apartment.

Oh, God.

She hadn’t seen Avery or Raleigh since they had gotten into the fight in her apartment. Avery had sent her a bouquet of peonies with a note attached the day after -- they sat, still blooming, in a vase on her table. The note had been short and sweet, classic Avery.

Suiko, I’m so sorry for what has happened. Please let me know if you need anything. - Avery

It was a nice gesture. The kind of gesture she’d expected of Avery.

And from Raleigh?

Crickets.

Not a single text. Not a single call. 

Some part of her hoped for it. Every morning, she would check her phone, waiting to see something, anything. But he hadn’t texted her since the day that the photos surfaced. 

Suiko sighed, brushing her fingers over the tops of the peonies. If Fiona wanted her to see Avery today, then she would. It was probably time for one of these bandages to be ripped off.

Two hours later she found herself opening the door for Avery.

He looked somewhat nervous. His fingers worried at the sleeves of his soft gray sweater, and his blue eyes clung to hers. “Hello,” he said, stiffly and formally, and Suiko found herself laughing. Relief flashed in his eyes.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

He nodded and offered her his arm. They strolled down to the street like that, ignoring the cameras peeking out from behind cars and planters. Fiona must have tipped off the paparazzi on where to get some good shots. “How’s your face?”

Avery grinned. The shadow of his black eye still purpled his skin, and his jaw was patchy blue-green. “Getting better each day.”

“I have to tell you,” Suiko said, “I never would have hung up posters of you in my bedroom if you’d looked like this in them.”

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. “This sounds like quite an interesting bedroom.”

“Oh, yeah. I had all the best decorations. My Avery posters, pink fairy lights, old Sunset Skatepark albums...”

Avery snorted. “Sunset Skatepark? Really? I didn’t have you down as a boy band kind of girl.”

“The more you know,” Suiko replied airily, flashing a smile.

They turned the corner to find a pair of preteen girls holding cell phones up in front of them. “Oh my God,” one of them gasped.

Suiko turned to look at Avery, pretending not to notice as the girls filmed them as they walked by. She might never get used to that part of the industry. Paparazzi pictures were one thing. Being videotaped by random people was another.

“You read the ‘news’ recently?” she asked.

“I’ve glanced over it.”

“Well, we’re the new hot thing, so I’ve learned.” Suiko frowned. “Sorry Fiona dragged you into all of this.”

Avery smiled gently, and lifted a hand to brush away a few stray hairs that had drifted into her face. Somewhere nearby, a camera clicked madly. “I’m happy to do it, love.”

Suiko glanced down at the sidewalk, hoping that the cameras wouldn’t pick up her blush. It’s not like she was in love with Avery, despite what the tabloids had to say. Still, though. She’d loved him as a fan for so long it was impossible to make all of those old feelings disappear.

They enjoyed a nice lunch at a little Italian restaurant, and then a walk through a museum. It actually was a nice outing, excluding the paparazzi. Avery was a gentleman all around. He held doors and pulled out chairs for her, and at the end of the day, he walked her to her door.

“Thanks for today,” Suiko said.

Avery lifted her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it. “Any time,” he murmured against her skin.

Her head spun as she entered the apartment. In her mind, there were two very conflicting emotions: wanting to cave and call Raleigh, and wanting to fling the door back open and invite Avery inside.

But both were bad ideas, so instead she grabbed a bottle of wine and collapsed onto her couch, uncorking the drink and taking a swig straight from the bottle.

Avery had been so nice to her today.

He was just a nice person. Always sweet, always kind, always good. Except for when he was brawling in her living room.

When had everything gotten so confusing?

She was halfway done with the wine and halfway through a movie when she heard shattering glass on her stoop.

Suiko froze, pausing the film. Someone was pacing out there. Judging by their steps, they were staggering. On tiptoe, she silently crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

Raleigh leaned against the wall just outside of her apartment, staring at the shards of a bottle at his feet. He looked terrible. His knuckles were gleaming with fresh blood -- what had he just punched? -- and his clothes were wrinkled and looked as if they had not been changed in days. The dark curls she loved to run her fingers through were greasy and disorderly.

She sucked in a tight breath.

Then he swung around and slumped away from her door, swaying on his feet. God, he was really, really drunk.

Suiko stood there a moment more, and then her heart made the decision that her brain had been trying to postpone. Not even bothering to throw on shoes, she shoved the door open and ran outside onto the street.

“Raleigh!” she called, head swiveling to try to catch sight of him.

But he was nowhere on her street. No one stood outside except for her.

Suiko sank down onto her stoop, careful to avoid the broken glass. Her hand reached into her pocket, producing her phone. At last she allowed herself to open the article that had been worrying at the back of her mind all day.

“Raleigh and I are in love”: the R&B superstar’s mystery girl speaks out in an exclusive interview with EE! News!

You’ve seen the pictures. You’ve made your theories. But now, be prepared for the whole truth on what happened between R&B bad boy Raleigh Carrera, innocent starlet Suiko Hono, and the mystery woman seen with Carrera at the Theory nightclub last week.

Here we sit down with Leona Lastrum, who reached out to EE! News for comment on the debacle. Read the whole interview below!

Nancy Chapri with EE! News: So, Leona. How did you meet Raleigh Carrera?

“We met just over a year ago at one of his performances. I’ve always been a huge fan of his, so I bought meet and greet tickets to his concert. Somehow, when we got talking, we just clicked!”

NC: Did you see him after that performance?

“I ended up at a lot of his public appearances after that. Obviously I was attracted to him, and it seemed like he might be interested too. But it was hard to get close to him for long periods of time because of his tour and his schedule.”

NC: How did you feel when you found out about his relationship with Suiko Hono?

“Well, at first, I didn’t even know who she was. I looked her up when I saw the headlines. She’s so new to the industry, I wasn’t sure if what they had was a real relationship or more of a mentoring kind of thing. But then I saw some of the pictures of them on dates and at events, and I felt kind of cheated. Raleigh and I had been slowly building our relationship for the past year and then suddenly he was dating this other girl.”

NC: How do you feel about Suiko and Raleigh’s relationship?

“I’m sad about it of course. Also, it’s kind of strange to picture them together. The Raleigh I know wouldn’t want to settle down with, and I say this out of kindness, an innocent and sweet girl like Suiko Hono. He needs someone who can keep up with him, not someone who will hold him back!”

NC: What exactly happened that night that the pictures were taken at Theory?

“I heard that Raleigh was going to be there, and I went to give him a piece of my mind -- ask why he’d started a new relationship when I’d thought we had something pretty special. But when I got there, it was like both of us forgot about all the time that had passed since we saw each other last, and forgot about everything that had happened in that time. It was like we were meeting for the first time again. That kind of chemistry.”

NC: If you could say anything to Suiko Hono, what would that be?

“I’d tell her to stay away from my man! Just joking, but really. Raleigh and I have been seeing each other since before she even landed in the spotlight. I just wonder how she was able to ever date him without thinking about the fact that he was already kind of in a relationship. Anyways, I think Suiko and I could honestly be good friends once this is all worked out. I have some sweet guys I could set her up with that are more her speed, if you catch my drift!”

NC: Finally, how do you really feel about Raleigh?

“I feel the same way I’ve felt about him since the day we met. I mean, you’ve seen him! What I will tell you is that Raleigh and I are in love.”

[spiffysixxsense]

Hello annoying best friend here to fulfill my duty by asking you to answer all of the cute asks

angel; do you have a nickname?

not really. my name is already short and I don't have a prominent quality to nickname me after. The only person who refers to me as anything other than my name is my boyfriend, but I don't think “babe/baby” really counts as a nickname lol

awe; how old are you?

24

baby; favorite color?

dark teal (blue-green? I've never found a good name for my favorite color)

bloop; spirit animal?

so because I didn't have a good answer for this, I decided to google a quiz to find out, lol. My answer was a deer. here's why;

When you have the deer as spirit animal, you are highly sensitive and have a strong intuition. By affinity with this animal, you have the power to deal with challenges with grace. You master the art of being both determined and gentle in your approach.

The deer totem wisdom imparts those with a special connection with this animal with the ability to be vigilant, move quickly, and trust their instincts to get out the trickiest situations

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?

i don't really have a favorite book, i don't read much outside of school (I wish i did)

movie: A Beautiful Mind

song: oh dear lord i cannot pick just one, but all-time favorite band of mine is Shinedown

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?

a little stuffed dog that looked like Kipper from the TV show, I still have him :)

breeze; most precious childhood memory?

lmao what came to mind was when i pledged to never drink, smoke, or say bad words. two out of fucking three ain't bad i guess. 

bright; mermaids or fairies?

(honestly neither but) fairies

bubbles; do you have a best friend?

given the asker, i would say yes :) also i am lame and my boyfriend is also my best friend 

buttercup; showers or baths?

S H O W E R S. hate baths!

butterfly; dream destination?

I've never had a huge desire to travel honestly. like sure i could say Italy or Greece look beautiful, but the actual act of traveling overseas really stresses me out lol. so i would have to say more like upper midwest, like Maine, in the fall time for all the pretty trees.

buttons; are you religious or spiritual?

i am neither

calm; favorite scent?

anything fruity - pineapple, mango, berries, apples. at least in terms of what candles i like lol.

candlelight; what did you dream about last night?

i do not remember anything from last night - the last dream i remember involved my boyfriend, dad and i being lost up north lol

charming; have you ever been in love?

currently 

cozy; eye/hair color?

hazel / brunette 

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?

the 1970′s for the fashion

cupcake; favorite flower/plant?

love me a good succulent

cute; what did you get on your last birthday?

well this last birthday was amidst quarantine, so I got some candles and granola (my boyfriend knows me well lol)

cutie pie; most precious item you own?

i have no idea? what an odd question? probably some stuffed animal?

cutsie; what makes you happy?

picnics, alone time, my boyfriend, my cat choosing to cuddle with me.

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.

I really cant think of a time I've ever felt truly free. maybe when i drove myself to school earlier this year & didn't have to wait for someone to pick me up? 

daydream; how do you want to be remembered?

as a light in others lives. happy, bubbly. things i currently am not

daylight; favorite album of all time?

gosh these dang music questions. well, Nickelback - All the Right Reasons was the first album i ever bought myself. then maybe Shinedown - The Sound of Madness (i cant pick one OKAY)

dear; zodiac sign?

Taurus 

delightful; concerts or museums?

concerts

dimples; have you ever written a letter?

yes? this question makes me feel old, lol. 

dobby; dream job?

criminologist. some way to be reducing the mass incarceration rate in the US. 

doll; how do you like to dress?

comfy, v necks and leggings. As i have gotten older i have slowly wanted to be more feminine i think, because i really want some sundresses for summer lol

dovey; any paranormal/magical experiences?

one! when i was 12ish, i swear i saw a reflection of a uniformed man (like old school soldier uniform - blue blazer with gold cufflinks) behind me in the glass of my snakes tank at the time. it was weird because the only reason i even looked that way was because my snake started shaking his tail against the glass, something that corn snakes do when they are scared, but also something that in his entire life had never done unprompted ever. 

dreams; do you want or have any tattoos?

want yes, have no

drizzle; do you believe in aliens?

100%. no way we are alone in this universe

euphoric; talk about someone you love.

he makes my days so much better :)

fairy; do you have a pet?

I have one little old kitty :)

fluffy; ocean or mountain?

to vacation, ocean. to live, mountain

forever; where do you feel time stop?

the secretary of state? lol

froglet; are you a good plant owner?

I've never owned a plant lol

garden; how many languages do you know?

one :(

gem; who are your favorite tumblrs?

@cy-ne-fin 

giggles; what is your aesthetic of choice?

sepia photography/old books that have yellowed into sepia. or fresh greenery on white marble. 

glittery; do you like anons? why/why not?

i don't really get any anymore, but as long as they are nice or just questions/venting, im down. don't be offended if i never answer though, for some reason i never get Tumblr notifications lol

glow; list the top 5 things you like about yourself

im compassionate

im empathetic (which is similar but im struggling to get to 5 lol)

im goal-oriented

im determined (once i have said goal. again, related lol) 

i guess i like my lips/lip shape

heart; silk or lace?

lace

honey; coffee or tea? how do you take it?

tea. iced, black or green really, with sugar. 

hugsy; do you enjoy people watching or bird watching more? why?

bird watching because it means i am probably alone and in nature as opposed to somewhere in a crowd of people. and i wont feel creepy for watching the birds lol

hunnybunch; what sounds help you sleep?

white noise, a fan running. if that's not enough, i enjoy asmr. if i am really struggling/having anxiety, i will look up sleep stories from the headspace app on youtube (life hack to not have to pay for the app lol)

jewel; what’s your favorite kind of weather?

to be outside, i enjoy just warm enough to be comfy in pants and a t-shirt (so like 65F-ish) and sunny.To be inside, i love when it is cooler (like 50F?) and raining. I love the look, sound, and smell of rain but it is usually just inconvenient to be in. 

jiggly; what do you usually like to do on weekends?

well now all days are the same for me, #quarantine, so the same thing i do every day, just about nothing, lol

joy; do you laugh loudly or giggle more?

i guess laugh loudly because i am a loud person in general. i have a deep voice

kinky; do you blush easily?

i don't think so, my embarrassment turns into sweat, not blush, lmao

kisses; what romantic cliché do you wish for most?

i guess being proposed to someday? but i don't have a certain dream way of it happening, just the fact that its happening is enough for me lol. id enjoy if someone (cough Elle or also maybe Michael lol) were secretly filming and/or taking photos of it? I am not sure how you'd manage that though

kitty; what’s your favorite time of the day?

late at night when everything is quiet

ladybug; what’s your favorite artist to listen to when you’re sad?

old school three days grace (one-x album in particular)

love; what is your favorite season and why?

i always gravitate to fall for the leaves and pumpkin patches. but honestly, i think my favorite season is spring. i love the newly budding trees and flowers, the feeling of renewal, the release from the horrible Michigan winter lol, but most importantly, spring time for my whole life as of yet has always meant that school is over for the semester! as opposed to the fall when the semester starts. this is very long winded but spring final answer lol

lovey; what is your favorite flavor of macaron and ice cream?

I've never had a macaron and blue moon ice cream 

magic; what are five flaws you have?

ooooo boy

im short tempered/angry too much 

im unmotivated (which is confusing maybe because i said i am determined earlier. you see, once i HAVE a goal i feel determined to finish it. but i am unmotivated to create said goals, lol) 

im nonconfrontational to a fault where i always put others’ feelings before my own

i let fear of change stop me from ever taking risks/ am anxious

i am stubborn and sometimes have a hard time admitting i am wrong

moonlight; do you prefer soft pastels, warm neutrals, or cool darks?

this depends - screw pastels. warm neutrals for makeup purposes, but cool darks for aesthetic or decor purposes

munchkin; what do you look for in your significant other?

someone who feels like home. I am not entirely sure how else to explain that. you just feel peace and content with them. 

paddywack; how would you describe a perfect date?

something that allows you to only be with your date - so like a picnic or hike or just a walk even. my boyfriend and i liked to walk around in the fall for me to take pictures of leaves while he played pokemon go (man i miss the pokemon go summer and i have never even PLAYED it, it was just so fun to be with him while he played)

pebbles; how do you spend free time by yourself?

on youtube usually

precious; what is something valuable that you learned in your life?

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. if your family is toxic for whatever reason, you do not owe them your time strictly because they are family. 

pretty; do you like to cook or bake more?

cook, im not super into sweets & i want to enjoy the final product

prince; how would you describe your handwriting?

normal? like its legible but its not pretty or cute

princess; do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play?

no:( wish i could play bass or drums

prinky; how do you relieve stress?

i don't :)

i really don't have an answer other than solving whatever is stressing me out, lol. i wish i had more mechanisms to calm me down but nothing i have tried has ever really worked

pumpkin; what is your favourite kind of fruit/vegetable?

you know these favorites questions are hard for me lol. right now, i am loving watermelon, but i also love most fruits. kiwis! vegetable, i feel like i have to say potato lol

rainbow; what was the last line of the last book you read?

lol the last thing i read had to be some academic text, so that's boring

roses; what is the most significant event in your life so far?

meeting Alex i guess, it changes my whole life path to have someone you want to do life with 

smile; what is one thing that has greatly affected you?

quarantine? lol

shine; art or music?

music is art.

shimmer; do animals tend to like you?

i think so. Elle’s dog griffin loves me for some reason lol

smitten; do you collect anything?

not really

smoochies; how many pillows do you sleep with?

4

snuggle; what is your favourite candy?

jolly ranchers 

snuggly; do you have a camera? if so, what kind?

nope

sparkle; do you wear jewelry?

nope

spooky; sunrise or sunset?

sunset

sprinkles; do you like to listen to music with headphones or no headphones?

headphones

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?

Spongebob probably. unless we are talking like really tiny, toddler age, then Winnie the pooh

soft; describe your favourite spot in your house.

i live in a 2 bedroom apartment, there arent any spots. lol. my bed i guess

soothe; digital or vinyl?

i mean digital for convenience but vinyl for aesthetic 

squeezed; who do you miss right now?

i mean the only person i really actively miss ever is Alex. @cy-ne-fin sometimes, but i have also grown used to living away from each other

sugary; what traits do you value most in friends?

loyalty, honesty, & humor

sunshine; do you prefer for things to be practical or aesthetically pleasing?

if i must pick, practical. 

sweet; do you find it easy to open up?

absolutely not. i feel like a burden with my feelings even though i shouldn't 

sweetie; do you like kids? if so, do you ever want to have any?

honestly not really. am on the fence still about ever having any 

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?

not really

toot; what is something you find unique about yourself?

i am as average as they come man, nothing is unique about me lol

tootsie; what kind of friend are you?

like a background friend? like i am not very social, so we do not have to talk every day to be friends. so like im here if you need me, but i enjoy alone time. 

treasure; what was something that made you smile today?

the way my boyfriend looks at me, & as i was working on this my cat came to cuddle, which i gave as an answer earlier before he jumped up here :)

velvet; are you an early bird or a night owl?

night owlllllll

whiffle; if you could have a magical power, what would it be?

the power to heal those who are hurting (including myself)

whimsical; do you prefer doing stuff at home or going out?

home home home home

whiskers; do you usually wear makeup?

not anymore, i did in high school/early college years. not I've stopped caring

wiggly; are you a messy or tidy person?

messy? kinda in the middle really. 

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?

my state, sure. my city in particular is definitely pretty boring

wobbly; have you ever wished upon a star?

I've never seen one :(

[worldwidebt7]

“Buttons”

》Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

》Genre(s): [Fluff] [So Much Fluff] [Tooth Rotting Fluff] [Drabble But Not Really?]

》 Words: 1,754

》Rating: E

》 Warnings: None

》 A/N: So, this was supposed to be a drabble? But it ended up being just shy of 2,000 words? Why am I like this…? I’ve been on the WORST (best?) Yoongi kick, and this is literally the shortest thing I had that I could write for him to get it out of my system… “Turned Around” is still coming. I’ve just never written someone as shy as Kookie can be, so I’m struggling a bit… Enjoy this in the meantime!

[Summary]: Where Yoongi can’t seem to get the buttons on the sleeve of his shirt to cooperate at a fan sign event, so you decide to give him a hand.

Social Links

You felt so incredibly out of place— you had always dreamed about attending a BTS fan sign event to finally meet the members face to face, and here you were. You had even learned some specific lines and phrases you wished to communicate with them along with your basic conversational Korean to better enhance your individual experience with them. Yet, being the only foreigner as far as the eye could see, you were sweating beneath the mostly curious, but also slightly judgmental looks of the other fans in the large room.

You had come to Korea on a vacation only two weeks ago; your parents begrudgingly letting you leave for the country where the only person you knew was a friend, and fellow ARMY, that you had met online. She was the one who had taught you any and all Korean that you knew, and was also the one putting you up rent-free for the duration of your four-week stay in Cheongdam-dong. When you arrived at her apartment, you had been surprised to say the least; you had been unaware that this particular ward of Gangnam was known for its wealthy inhabitants, and your friend was no exception. So, it should have come as no surprise when she had also whipped out tickets for Bangtan’s next fan meet in Seoul, but it still managed to leave you boggled.

When the day came, you were so filled with excitement that you had forgot to mentally prepare yourself not for the boys, but all of the other fan girls, who, currently, were sending small sideways glances at you. You shuffled uncomfortably under their eyes, your friend, YunHee, completely oblivious. You couldn’t particularly blame them— it was probably rare to see a foreigner at one of these events, seeing as they were almost exclusive to Korean fans. Lucky bastards. However, they were only adding to the nerves that were already presently wracking your body.

You were no more than ten feet away from the series of tables at which the seven members of BTS sat and your body knew it. It was shaking at the very sight of it and as you desperately tried to calm your thoughts, you couldn’t help but notice the first member you were to approach, which didn’t help your nerves even a little bit.

There, looking like an adorable little angel in a loose white dress shirt and wearing duel-colored puppy ears, sat Min Yoongi— Suga of Bangtan Sonyeondan, Mr. Agust D himself. You couldn’t start off with someone less intimidating; no, you were jumping right into the fire, and that man could very well burn you alive. The fan in front of you moved on from said man, leaving the space in front of him open for a moment as one of the staff members held his hand out for you to wait. You were fine with this, of course, it gave you another moment to compose yourself. But as you watched the eldest rapper, he became less intimidating by the second.

The buttons on his left sleeve had seemingly come undone, leaving the cuff to flap about aimlessly each time he moved his arm. Reaching his limit of toleration, he began struggling to re-button the offending piece of cloth, his left hand disappearing within the sleeve to assist his right hand in his quest. Now, the small existential crisis he was having with his sleeve was cute enough, however the little crinkle that had appeared when he scrunched his nose in frustration immediately quelled the fear that had begun boiling in your chest what you first sighted him.

As the staff finally waved you forward to kneel in front of the table, you saw him give a displeased huff and release the dreaded button in defeat, unaccomplished in his goal. You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you at the sight of Min Yoongi being conquered by a button. He must have heard you, as his gaze quickly found yours before you were even in front of him, the nerves finding their way back to your stomach. Only, this time, they were more like butterflies than wrenches tightening against your insides.

Kneeling in front of the table, you offered a nod and an English ‘hello,’ knowing he knew that at least, and he returned the gesture, giving you a quiet ‘hello’ of his own. He looked a bit panicked, which was probably due to the fact that you were a foreigner. You remembered that he had little confidence in his English, though you always suspected he knew more than he let on. You gave a shy smile as you placed your album on the table, his eyes keenly watching the item— probably praying for something to distract him long enough so he didn’t have to attempt English. When you didn’t push it towards him, he reached for it, but you quickly interrupted him.

“Um…” You started, and he looked at you, a horrified look in his eyes. You pointed at his sleeve, your face turning red, “Your sleeve— ah, I mean, 소매...” Ah, your Korean was honestly atrocious. You wracked your brain trying to come up with words that could make a complete sentence, but as you did, the dark-haired idol lifted his left arm and pointed to it himself. You gave a breathy chuckle and nodded, holding your hands out in front of you, palms upwards. “네— can I…?” You asked, hesitantly shifting your hands towards him. He looked at you, eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. The only answer you received was him placing his wrist over your hands, the material of his shirt brushing your palms.

If your cheeks weren’t pink before, they surely were now as you took his hand in yours and gently maneuvered it until it rested on the table with his palm facing upwards. Dear God he had beautiful hands— large and lean, with graceful thin fingers. His years of playing piano were obvious here, showing the lithe and nimble skill in every line, every curve, of his digits; the hands of a pianist. With all their use, his skin held a surprising smoothness as you brushed it, sending a chill through you.

You didn’t look up at his face; you didn’t have to in order to know that he wasn’t watching your fingers as they nimbly worked not one, but three buttons on the cuff of his sleeve. You could feel his piercing eyes on your face, as if he were trying to read your intentions, or like he was trying to remember the shape of you. It caused your heart to pick up and your fingers to fumble with the last button a bit. After several attempts though, you were able to slide the little plastic circle through its rightful gap.

You began to pull your hands back, smiling at him pleasantly, when his long fingers wrapped around your wrist, encompassing it entirely. Finally making eye contact from shock, your heart went into a frenzy as his eyes bore into yours. It wasn’t in an intimidating or threatening way; it was just intense and for a moment your forgot how to breathe. With him gazing at you in such a way, it was easy to ignore the fact that he still currently donned a little headband with multi-colored doggy-ears.

A soft smile graced his lips, and your eyes flicked down to them from the movement. But the shift of his grasp on your wrist to where it settled within your own hand had you staring back into his eyes, waiting for his next move. After another short moment of simply peering down at you, his soft smile broke out into one of his signature gummy smiles, his previously intense eyes becoming shy crescent moons. Before you had time to comprehend the change, his right hand reached out and slid your album towards him, his left leaving yours to lie on the table to feel the chill of the air against the warm skin where his hand once was.

“Thank you.” He said, his accent present in the small phrase of appreciation. You watched silently as he flipped open the album to where you had marked his name with a small sticky-note and pull open a marker that had been sitting to the side before realizing that you should probably respond in some way.

“Ah, yeah, n-no problem.” Okay, good start— not in Korean, but at least you hadn’t said anything ridiculous. “I’m good with… buttons…” …and there it was. Your voice trailed off as you heard each word that left your mouth unchecked and you felt a desperate need to smash your face flat against the table. But that would only further the embarrassment, so you opted not to. His marker stilled as he glanced up at you from the album with a raised eyebrow, as if trying to figure out what you mean by that, before releasing an airy laugh, presumably because he realized that you meant exactly what you said and there was no hidden meaning behind it. He had probably seen the mortification written over your face from your own statement.

“아, 귀여…” You heard him mutter beneath his breath as he returned to signing your album. It took you a moment to fully register what it was he has said, but when you were finally able to pull enough of your Korean vocabulary out of the confines of your muddled brain, your reaction was immediate.

You turned your face down to hide how red it was surely becoming, and you brought your hands up to pat at the sides of your face, completely flustered. Suddenly, the cover of your album slid into your line of vision, as well as the thin fingers of Min Yoongi, as he passed your successfully signed album. You picked your head up to look at him fully, momentarily forgetting your abashed face. His gaze once more held intensity, only, this time, a sly smirk had found its way to his face and– goddamn him— it was sexy as hell. You swallowed loudly, the noise from the other girls in the room which you had all but just forgotten drowning it out. Reaching up to take your album, you noticed that he had not yet moved his hands from the book, and as your fingers touched the cool cover, his smirk widened before he muttered words of, what seemed to be, farewell.

“See you again…”

[END]

A/N: I’m so sorry that I’m bad at life and can’t seem to finish “Turned Around”... *sobs* But still let me know what you thought of this!

[sunflowerstache]

Lovebug

A/N: This one shot is in honor of the iconic Jonas Brothers reunion that’s currently happening...something I’ve waited a 6 long years for. I’ve always loved the song, and was listening to it last night and just started writing this? lol so here's a lil bit (and I do mean lil.... its very short) of fluff I wrote for y’all when I should have been writing AW04(: ps thanks @emotionally-imbruised @theasstour

Growing up in the limelight, Harry always knew that things would be much different for him than other young adults. He couldn’t just waltz into the grocery store and have a regular shop, couldn’t post dumb shit on social media for his friends to have a laugh without any reprocussions, and wouldn’t be attending crazy fraternity parties where someone drunkinly smashes the beer pong table. He knew that, and was okay with that, because he loves his job. But what he didn't realize was how hard finding love was going to be. How everyone in the world would be watching as he went through the awkward stages of beginning a new relationship, the settled down middle parts, and the end when it inevitably became too much for his partner. How the paparazzi and constant intrusion into his personal life would drive away the people his heart had opened up to.

Until her.

He had met her whilst standing in the of the cafe down the street from the studio, waiting to pick up the order his assistant had placed for the entire team. The gloomy skies and pending rain forecasted for the next week in LA had kept most everyone in their homes, giving Harry the chance to enjoy the leisurely stroll he’d taken to get the food. As soon as he walked through the doors, it was like something straight out of one of the romcoms he had saved; the golden lights that were hung above the register danced around her, almost making it seem like she was under a spotlight for him. Small flecks of glitter sat on her cheeks, the sparkle catching his eye anytime she moved her head, and the pocket of the apron around her waist held a multitude of colored pens - in order from lightest to darkest. But it was her smile that really captivated him. It wasn’t perfect like you see in magazines and on television, but watching as it lit up her entire face Brough butterflies to Harry’s stomach, and he was sure the small smile lines on either side of her mouth were the cutest thing to ever grace the streets of Los Angeles. 

“Hi!” her grin widened ear to ear as she looked at him, “Your total is $57.29.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, have’ta pay.” he was sure the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears were a bright red as he dug for his wallet.

“As much as I wish I could just give you the food, I do have to pay rent for this place, so...” someone from the back called out an order and the bell on the countertop was rung, but Harry’s focus was still on her.

“You own this place? I’ve never seen you before.”

“It’s my dad’s, but he mostly works in the office, so I occasionally come in to help run the-” the bell was rung again a few more times and he watched as she turned around to face the kitchen, “Steve! Quit ringing the bell, yeah? Taylor will get to you in a minute.” she turned back to look at Harry, “Run the ship out here.”

“Well it’s a great ship. Has great food.” holding up the two plastic bags in either hand, Harry chuckled, “Order from here probably more than I should.”

“Again, I do have the pay rent, so I’d say you aren’t ordering enough.” what he’s assuming is her name was called from the back and yellow painted fingernails  tapped down on the countertop, gave Harry a large smile before making her way towards the other side of the restaurant, and called over her shoulder, “It was nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll run into you again, seeing as you order so often.”

After that first meeting, Harry couldn’t get enough. He thought about how her eyes held a kind of warmth he’d never felt before. He thought about how her eyes twinkled under the houselights, and how anytime he closed his eyes, her smile was at the forefront of his thoughts. So, he went back. And went back again. And again. Until he had been visiting her at the cafe, between studio sessions, consistently for almost three weeks. He would sit on one of the empty bar stools and just chat with her until he figured he looked borderline obsessive and decided to leave. The two talked about anything imaginable while she worked; everything from favorite sports to watch during the Olympics to embarrassing school memories, and Harry had never felt more comfortable around someone in all 25 years he’d been on the planet. And one night, after a particularly brutal day at the studio and his assistant insisting to pick up lunch so he didn’t have to leave, Harry laid in bed with his thumb hovering over the brand new contact. They’d only been friends for 21 days, that was nothing. Was it too early to hit dial? And in his moment of weakness and need to hear her voice, Harry’s finger hit the small green button and a dial tone  echoed through the dark room.

“Hello?”

“Hey love.”

Which is how the pair ended up sitting across from one another at a local Italian Restaurant on the outskirts of Los Angeles. There were many times that Harry would say he was nervous; X factor auditions, first performance at MSG, putting out a solo album, getting the chance to sing with his idol Stevie Nicks, but none of it compared to how he felt as he watched her walk into the restaurant. He had insisted to pick her up, claiming it was the gentlemanly thing to do and his mother had raised him right, but much to Harry’s dismay, she informed him that she lived just down the block and would meet him there after work. Seeing her walking towards him, clad in a burgundy sweater and dark jeans had taken his breathe away. 

“I’m so sorry! I know I’m like 10 minutes late, and underdressed but there was the oddest rush of take out orders right before we closed and then my cat puked on the dress I was going to wear. But I’m here.” she exasperated, plopped down on the chair he had pulled out for you when he stood up to great you.

“It’s alright, don’t worry. I wasn’t here too long.” False. Harry had arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes before their reservation, having him now seated there for a total of a half an hour. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, for looking across at her, pulling a few pieces of fuzz from the sleeve to her sweater, took his breathe away. How could someone look so completely and utterly beautiful without even trying? “And you look wonderful.”

“Not to shabby yourself, Mr. Styles. But,I expected nothing less.” beautiful gleaming eyes glanced at Harry over the menu and she settled herself.

At that, Harry didn’t know what to say. He had been routinely talking with her for almost a month; indulging in information he hadn’t told anyone in years, yet he had never fully told her his name. Anytime he was about to, it was like all of the bad parts of his past relationships came flooding back and pulled him away from that edge. His name brought many things; opportunities of a lifetime, beautiful designer clothing, fans he loved more than anything, and a decent amount of money so he could support his family. But it also brought the bad things that generally made people run in the other direction; rumors, endless hours spent away from home, and countless news articles picking apart his friends, and because of that, Harry decided not to tell her his name.

“Styles huh? So, you - you know -”

“I don’t live under a rock, you loser.” her head slightly tilted back in laughter, accentuating her neck, “And at the risk of sounding like a massive years long fan, you always put your orders under the name Hershel, so I didn’t really have to wonder too much.” 

Hearing those words fall from between her lips made Harry feel hopeless. Hopeless for the spell she was casting on him, with her effortless beauty and remarkable smile. Never before had he met someone, who vey clearly knew who he was, and made it obviously noted that they didn't care. And he loved it. Being able to be Harry Styles from Holmes Chapel and not Harry Styles from One Direction was like a breathe of fresh air and yet somehow his brain was in overdrive and left him speechless. How would the conversations go now that he knew she knew? Harry’s bustling mind was set to ease as she change the topic and opened the conversation with someone exploding a bottle of tomato sauce all over her at work that morning. And just just like, every doubt he had, for those few seconds, about if she would treat him differently, flew out the window. The two had taken residence in the restaurant for nearly 4 hours, watching as the employees switched shifts and a new group came in, pretending to be countless couples within the establishment and create mock scenarios for each, and talk about their respective careers. 

It had been a long time since Harry felt a bite from a love bug, but he still knew the feeling. In fact, he welcomed it with open arms, but this bite felt different, this bite was uncharted territory, for he had never felt so strongly for someone so soon after meeting. So, he made sure to do everything by the book; help her put on her jacket, open doors for her, walk her home, albeit it was just down the street, and made sure she got safely inside. But as the pair stood under the bright porch light, the butterflies from the first day Harry met her had returned. Her skin was sparkling again, creating small specks of greens and reds and pinks to dance on her cheeks and a contagious smile was spread on her mouth as she pulled down the sleeves of her light cardigan.

“Thank you for tonight. I haven’t gone out in God only knows how long, and I really needed it.”

“Absolutely, anytime. Thank you for agreeing to come with me.” Harry by no means was unaware of how this part of a date was supposed to go. For all intents and purposes, he’s a smooth guy. But no one would pick up on that from the painful silence between the two. His hands were digging into his pockets, seemingly trying to get as deep as possible, and he slowly swayed back and forth. A small smile still played on her lips as she cleared her throat.

“You know, this is generally the part where you kiss me goodnight and then go home and text me.” Harry didn’t have to wonder if the embarrassment was evident on his cheeks, for he could feel the blood rushing his face’s high points. How was it that he was so unbelievably bad at this, even after having so much practice. “Or not, ya know. I’m not trying to for-”

Finally, his brain and his body met in the middle and closed the distance between them, gently covering her mouth with his own. The crisp Los Angeles air floated around the two, but that wasn’t the only reason for the growing goosebumps. His hands quickly made their way to cup her cheeks while hers wound around Harry’s waist, making his body shiver at the contact. It was like they were molding by the same artist, their bodies fitting perfectly together and neither wanted to break apart. But needing a breath, she moved her head to the side, resting it on his shoulder as he kissed the side of her head, moving away.

If he thought he was speechless when she walked into the restaurant earlier that night, he didn't have words to describe how he felt after their kiss. It was as if suddenly he forgot how to speak. Like nothing else in the world mattered more than given her a soft smile and kissing her forehead one more time. Nothing in the world mattered more than how he felt for her in that moment. Nothing in the world mattered more than her.

“Goodnight.” Harry grinned, running and quick hand through his hair, and turning to walk back to his car, “I’ll text you.”

Yeah, he definitely got bitten by the love bug again.

[shels-kpop-main]

Moments, Part Two

Ben!Roger x Reader

Warnings: none, a bit of slow burn

Word Count: 1744

Part One: Moments, Part One

Life on the farm was simple for you. Sleep, eat, take pictures. You had come to England at the insistence of your mother and uncle. They agreed it would be best (even though you were an adult and could make your own choices) if you spent some time away from Texas. Especially after everything that had happened last year.

So you packed up your things and boarded a flight to Heathrow. It had been six weeks and you had yet to consider going back. The sudden death of your father forever ruined Dallas for you. In fact, it ruined many things for you—including music. You just didn’t find the same joy in it that you used to. You still enjoyed dancing and watching live performances, but listening to music by yourself usually just made you feel empty. Like something was missing.

But being surrounded by what was possibly the world’s most high-maintenance band offered a great distraction. Although the farm was quiet and nestled away in the countryside, the arrival of Queen and their crew reanimated the once empty grounds. Their schedule was simple, too. Eat, sleep, and record an album. Simply put, they were there to make noise. Beautiful, brilliant noise.

On this particular morning, the wind howled outside and the skies had darkened. It wasn’t raining, but it was still miserable outside. You could hear Freddie downstairs, playing the piano and singing softly. You shuffled down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor, yawning into the sleeve of your sweater.

“Good morning, darling!” Freddie called as you walked by the door to the piano room. You gave him a sleepy smile and wave, but he had already turned back to the keys. You stepped out of the front door and into the fresh air, and immediately regretted it. The gusts threw your hair across your face, and you quickly scurried over to the small wooden building next to the main house. You all but threw yourself inside to get away from the wind, howling through the spaces in the doorframe.

“Ah, good morning, Y/N!” Your eyes were watering from the cold but you recognized the voice to be Brian’s. You smiled and shuffled over to the kitchen counter. Brian and Deaky sat at the bar, which was covered in papers. Song ideas and lyrics, you assumed.

“Morning, fellas,” you replied, spitting hair out of your mouth with no pretense of grace. Deaky grinned.

“Bit windy out this morning, innit?”

“Yes, it certainly is. God, I’m starving. There anything to eat?” You asked, pulling open the fridge. There was one carton of eggs and a jug of milk. This didn’t leave you much to work with. But after sniffing through the cabinets, you found some tomatoes, an onion, and some salt and pepper. That, you could work with.

Are y’all hungry? I can make omelets, or eggs and salsa.”

“Eggs and salsa?” Deaky questioned, wrinkling his nose.

“Sure, just scramble some eggs and throw salsa on ‘em.”

John continued to look concerned while Brian just squinted at you.

“It’s a good combination. Just trust me,” you assured them, and got to work. Twenty minutes later, you handed them each a plate.

“Go on, try it.” They each took a bite, then swapped glances.

“It’s decent,” Deaky allowed, trying to sound nonchalant. Brian, however, offered no pretense, and began scooping more eggs onto his plate.

“Is this a Southern thing?”

“You bet it is,” you grinned at them. Before long, Brian and Deaky had finished almost half of the large amount of eggs you cooked. You swatted Deaky away as he came back for thirds.

“Save some for the other two, now.”

At that moment, Roger and Freddie strolled in. Rather, they fell through the door along with a whirl of leaves and another howl from the wind.

“It’s like a bloody tornado out there,” Roger spat, fixing his hair in the decorative mirror on the front wall. Freddie tousled his own hair back into place, and sat next to Deaky at the bar.

The boys spent the next half hour making quick work of the remaining eggs and discussing their song of the day. You mostly just stood and watched them, peering over the edge of your coffee mug. You loved watching the songwriting process of these four brilliant idiots. There was no organization to it, and sometimes their choices came down to their individual moods. It was chaos, but it was magic.

You spent the rest of the day as you always did, following the guys around and taking pictures. Your camera was starting to feel like an extension of your arm. You no longer noticed the weight of it.

By the time evening had rolled around, the wind was no closer to dying down than it had been that morning. You walked back to the main house after dinner, deciding that tonight would be the night that you would attempt to light a fire.

The living room was small but featured a pretty large fire place. Someone had stacked firewood next to it, but the weather had been so mild it had gone unused. Not tonight.

Pushing the door open, you stepped into the house, grateful to be out of the cold. You left your shoes by the base of the stairs and started putting wood into the fireplace. You heard the door open a moment later, and looked up to greet them.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“Hi.” Roger sat down next to you, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’m making a fire,” you told him, determined. He looked amused.

“I can see that. How are you planning to light it?”

“With a lighter, of course. Jerk.”

Before you could ask, Roger reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter. When you accepted it from him, he frowned.

“Your hands are freezing. You really must be cold.”

You rolled your eyes and gestured toward the fireplace.

“I am. So, you know, fire.”

He chuckled as you held the small flame under the logs, watching the fire slowly catch. Once you were confident that the fire was strong enough, you handed the lighter back to Roger. He had pulled a cigarette out, and lit it. You watched him as he did so, lit on one side by the glowing fire. The other half of his face was dimly lit by the small lamp in the stairwell. After he put his lighter away, he looked up at you and laughed.

“Do you ever put that thing down?”

You frowned, pulling your Nikon away from your face. In truth, you hadn’t even realized you picked it up again.

“Oh. Uh, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled, taking another drag.

“If you’re ever uncomfortable with me taking pictures, just let me know and I’ll stop.”

“Oh no,” Roger corrected you, “I love having my photo taken. I think I make a damn good subject.”

You gave him a wry smile, setting your camera down on the hearth. You grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around yourself. You were sitting cross-legged, facing Roger. The heat from the fireplace warmed your left side, and you shivered.

At that time, you noticed something. As much as you watched Roger—the way he talked, the way he moved—he watched you just as much. It seemed that your eyes always followed each other around the room. You smiled to yourself at the thought of it.

“I’ve never smoked before,” you said, without really thinking about it. Roger looked surprised.

“Really? Like, never even tried it?”

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head. “I wasn’t a cool kid in high school. Besides, my parents would have killed me.”

“Well, you’re a cool kid now. Have a try?” He wagged the cigarette towards you. You shrugged and then nodded, thinking, When in Rome…

You reached out, expecting to take the cigarette from him. But instead, he leaned forward, and held it up to your lips for you. You shivered again at the feeling of his fingers against your mouth, and hoped he hadn’t noticed. He smiled, indicating that he had.

His blue eyes were trained on you, watching as you closed your lips around the paper stick. His fingers relaxed a little as you inhaled, resting gently on your lower lip.

You were focusing too much on Roger’s face, and not enough on how much you were inhaling. You pulled back, coughing and sputtering out smoke. Roger laughed, a sweet and perfect grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

After you stopped coughing, you chuckled to yourself.

“Hey, now I can say I’ve done it. And I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Roger replied. “These things’ll kill you, you know.”

You looked at him, amused by his ironic nonchalance. He was a total badass—you couldn’t deny it. But in the soft orange glow of the fire, Roger didn’t look as tough as he sounded. His blond hair was messy, and he brushed it out of his eyes often. His features were actually quite delicate. Thin lips curved into a shy smile. Those big doll eyes.

“You’re right,” you breathed. It was barely audible, but he heard it. He leaned forward ever so slightly.

“About cigarettes?”

“You do make a good subject,” you said, finishing your thought. Roger gave you a cool half-smile. But you could have sworn you also saw a slight blush coming to his cheeks. He opened his mouth, that perfect mouth, to reply.

But whatever it was that he was going to say, you never heard it. Because at that moment, the remaining three members of Queen crashed through the front door. It was clear they had had more to drink after dinner, and it struck you as odd that Roger was the only one sober out of the group.

The next hour was spent around the fire with the guys. Laughing, telling stories, making fun of Roger for his cupboard tantrum. You eventually bid them goodnight, and trekked up the stairs to your attic room.

Burying yourself under the thick quilts, you closed your eyes and replayed the events of the evening. You saw Roger’s face clearly, as if he was still sitting in front of you by the fire. You could still feel his fingertips, rough and warm against your lips. You fell asleep shortly after, holding onto the feeling.

[fluidityandgiggles]

The Plastics: Phase 2

(Phase 1 - part 1, part 2)

—————

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart!” Roman was looming over the sink, trying his best not to stare at his boyfriend.

His very much shirtless boyfriend.

Roman knew how much Virgil loved his 7-Eleven slurpees. (Part of him liked the fact that his boyfriend was a less-homicidal version of JD.) But sadly, so did Remy. So when Remy told Roman to throw Virgil’s slurpee at him... he couldn’t argue against that.

It was Remy, after all.

But he isn’t going to complain about his boyfriend being shirtless.

“It’s perfectly fine, it was just a slurpee.” Virgil gave Roman a smile that he would never be caught, dead or alive, giving to anyone. “Just... do you have a spare shirt?”

“Do you mind that it’s Wednesday?”

—

Having lunch with the Plastics was like leaving the real world and entering “Popular World”. And Popular World had a lot of rules.

“You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row,” Roman told me. “And we only wear track pants on Fridays.”

Well... let’s consider the issue with the statement. That day, both Remy and Roman were wearing jeans. Remy’s blue, and Roman’s white. Their shirts were pink, though.

And Emile... yeah. He was in a skirt.

“I mean, not just you. Like, any of us. Okay, like, if I was wearing track pants today, I would be sitting over there with the drama kids.” Emile started giggling. “You think this is a joke? Drama club is not a joke.”

“We know, Roman.”

“Oh, and we always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us, because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group.” Understandable. “Well, I mean, you wouldn’t buy clothes without asking your friends first if they look good on you.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“Right. Oh, and it’s the same with guys.” I think this was when Roman’s leg started jumping. “Like, you may think you like someone, but you could be wrong.”

And then Roman looked at Virgil. Who was playing with a pair of aviators. Well... if I had to guess...

“A hundred and twenty calories, and forty-eight calories from fat...” So Remy could read labels. Nice. “What percent is that?”

“Forty-eight into one-twenty...?”

“I’m only eating foods with less than 30% calories from fat.”

“It’s 40%.” The confused looks I got from Remy and Roman were... weird. Let’s call them weird. “Well, 48 over 120 equals X over 100, and then you cross-multiply and get the value of X.”

“...whatever. I’m getting cheese fries.”

Sure, Remy. Sure.

As soon as Remy got away, though... Roman started talking. “So, have you seen any guys that you think are cute yet?”

“We’re all gay here,” Emile said. I think to himself. I hope to himself.

“Well...” Better be honest. “There’s this guy in my calculus class-”

“Who is it?”

“It’s a senior?” Yes, Roman. It’s a senior.

“His name’s Patton Graham.”

If I had to compare this moment to anything... it would probably be a bomb drop. Roman started a chorus of “no”s, with Emile joining in every now and again.

“Oh no, you can’t like Patton Graham!”

The literal angel descended from heaven to grace this world with his beauty and overall being? Sure. Why? Can you explain why, Roman? Huh? You wanna try an explanation, bitch?

“That’s Remy’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh.

“They went out for a year.” Thankfully, this was said by Emile. Roman’s voice was starting to annoy me.

“Yeah.” And... we’re back. “And he was devastated when Patton broke up with him last summer.”

“I thought he dumped him for Ollie Hendricks.”

“Okay, irregardless. Ex-boyfriends are just off-limits to friends. I mean, that’s just, like... the rules of feminism. Or something.”

I swear I heard Virgil snort.

“Don’t worry. I’ll never tell Remy what you said. It’ll be our little secret.”

I seriously doubted it.

—

“We define the sum of the infinite geometric series...”

Even though I wasn’t allowed to like Patton, I was still allowed to look at him. And think about him. And talk to him.

“Hey, Pat-”

“Hey, you’re the Africa guy, right?” A guy (who, to be fair, looks like a top hat would just fit him perfectly, he’s just that kind of creepy) asked me. As I was going to talk to Patton.

Rude much?

“Yeah.”

“I’m Dorian Pechmann, captain of the North Shore Mathletes. We participate in math challenges against other high schools around the state, and we’re missing a member. You should think about joining.”

“Oh, you’d be perfect for it!” Our teacher - Ms. Torres - jumped in.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Great, great. Let me give you my card!”

This guy has a card...?

‘Dorian Pechmann - Math Enthusiast/Bad-ass M.C.’

It even includes his phone number. Lovely.

“Okay, so... think it over. Cause we’d like to actually compete this year.”

Okay...

—

Patton actually almost talked to me later that day, if only Remy didn’t pull up near the football field and screamed “get in, loser, we’re going shopping!”

Remy is like the Barbie doll I never had. I’d never seen anybody so glamorous.

“So how do you like North Shore?” Emile asked me in the mall.

“It’s good. I think I’m joining the mathletes.”

And again with the booming chorus of no.

“You cannot do that,” Remy said. Incredibly harsh for a valley girl. “This is social suicide. Damn, you are so lucky you have us to guide you!”

And then Roman spaced out. And I could see why. Over in the shop we were passing...

There was Virgil.

I was starting to suspect more and more.

Being at Old Orchard Mall kind of reminded me of being home in Africa. By the watering hole. When the animals are in heat.

“Oh my god there’s Jason!”

“Where? ...oh, there he is.”

“And he’s with Taylor Wedell!”

Remember Jason? From the cafeteria? Yeah. The poor person he was now picking up...

Was a girl.

“I heard they’re going out.”

“Wait...” Remy’s smirk grew into a vicious smile. If we can call it that. “Jason’s not going out with Taylor. No. He cannot blow you off like that. He’s such a little skeez. Give me your phone.”

“You’re not gonna call him... right?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No.”

It took Remy exactly three seconds to dial up a number - how exactly? - and ask for “Wedell on South Boulevard.”

“Caller ID-”

“Not when you connect from Information.” And then, “Hello, may I please speak to Taylor Wedell?”

I swear his voice became more feminine when he said that.

“Oh, this is Susan from Planned Parenthood. I have her test results. If you could have her give me a call as soon as she can. It’s urgent. Thank you!”

And then, “she’s not going out with anyone.”

“Okay,” Roman said, finally smiling. “That was so fetch!”

It took just a couple seconds after that for Taylor Wedell to run away screaming.

—

Remy’s house was bigger than I have ever known a house to be. His step-mom was incredibly plastic-y, like a tv trophy wife or something, and his sister - oh god, his sister! His poor, sweet, innocent preteen sister - was watching MTV.

I honestly don’t think the content was entirely age appropriate.

His step-mom also offered us drinks that could have passed for alcoholic, which was even more worrying for a second.

But his room...

“It was my parents’ room,” Remy told me. “But I made them trade me.”

Bitch...

Even worse, bitch who flaunts around his ex-boyfriends. Like all the pictures of Patton he has hanging on his door.

“Logan, do you even know who sings this?” Remy asked me about the music that was playing on the radio.

“Umm... One Direction?”

“Oh my god, I love him! He’s like a Martian!”

Is that a... compliment...?

“God, my hips are huge!” Emile was checking himself out in the mirror... why?

Is that what friends do...? Gay people as a whole...? What?

“Oh please, I hate my calves.” Something about Roman’s tone sounded incredibly fake.

“At least you guys don’t have huge shoulders.”

I used to think there was just fat and skinny. Apparently, there’s a lot of things that can be wrong about your body.

And so, after listing about eleven hundred things that are wrong about their bodies, they turned to me. Expected me to talk.

Well... “I have really bad breath in the morning.”

“...ew.”

And then, “Oh my god, I remember this!” Emile was holding a pink album.

‘The Burn Book.’

“I haven’t looked at that in forever! Come check it out, Logan!”

“It’s our Burn Book,” Roman told me. “See, we cut out pictures of people from the yearbook, mostly girls, sometimes also guys, and then we wrote comments.”

“Trang Pak is a grotsky little bitch.” “Still true!”

“Dawn Schweitzer is a fat virgin.” “Still half true!”

“Amber d’Alessio masturbated with a hot dog.”

“Virgil Thompson,” Emile read out. “Stoner.”

Wait, what?

“Who is that?”

“I think it’s that kid Thomas,” Roman said. His voice still sounded... well, off.

“Yeah. He’s almost too gay to function.”

“Ha, that’s funny! Put that in there.”

Oh no. What have I done. Maybe that was only okay when Virgil said it.

—

“And they have this book, this Burn Book, where they write mean things about a lot of people in our grade.”

Virgil looked incredibly enthusiastic. Maybe a bit too much for the situation.

“What does it say about me?”

That you’re a stoner. “You’re not in it.”

“Those assholes.” He seemed to enjoy it far too much.

“Will this minimize my pores?” Thomas was holding a tube of... whatever cream that was.

“No. Logan, you gotta steal that book.”

“No way!”

“Oh, come on! We could publish it and then everybody would see what a dick he really is!”

“I don’t steal.”

“That is for your feet!” Virgil literally snatched the new cream from Thomas’ hands the second he brought it up. “Logan, there are two kinds of evil people. People who do evil stuff, and people who see evil stuff being done and don’t try to stop it.”

“Does that mean I’m morally obligated to burn that lady’s outfit?”

Thomas really shouldn’t have said that, probably.

“Oh my god, that’s Ms. Torres.”

“I love seeing teachers outside of school! It’s like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs!”

“Oh, hey, guys,” Ms. Torres called as she came to the counter. “What’s up? I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, moderately priced soaps are my calling.”

“You shopping?”

“No, no. I’m just here with my boyfriend.” Yeah... literally the only other customer in the shop. “Joking. Sometimes older people make jokes.”

“My nana takes her wig off when she’s drunk.”

“Your nana and I have that in common,” she deadpanned. “No, actually I’m just here because I bartend a couple nights a week down at P.J. Calamity’s. Logan, I hope you do join Mathletes, you know. Because we start in a couple weeks.”

“I think I’m gonna do it.”

“Great!”

“You can’t join Mathletes, it’s social suicide!” Thomas rushed to say.

“Thanks, Thomas.” And then, “well... this has been sufficiently awkward. And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Oh man, that is bleak,” Virgil sighed when Ms. Torres left. “So, when are you gonna see Remy again?”

“I can’t spy on him anymore. It’s weird.”

“Come on, he’s never gonna find out! It’s just... it’ll be like our little secret!”

Okay then...

—————

Tag list:

@broadwaytheanimatedseries @anony-phangirl @itsthemoooooooooon @whatwashernameagain @illmamnim @anotherfanboyonline @illogical-anxieties @allsortsofgeekery @ask-m423 @samwantstobereal @creepy-crawly-death-dealer @nepturanus-thy-planet @impatentpending @pheo742 @the-randomest-ofthe-fandomest @fanderily @tripleaaace @jokesequaljoker

[gaygardner]

I’ve been tagged by three different ppl so I’mma put all of them together. Long post ahead. 

answer the following eleven questions, add eleven questions of my own and tag 11 people.

tagged by @jeffersonjaxson cheers meg meg

1. What was the first fandom you remember being a part of?  Pretty sure it was band-dom. Might have been Simple Plan??? I was an embarrassing teenager.

2. Who would your Dream Team of characters be?  Joan Watson, Kate Kane, James Flint, Andrew Minyard, James Kirk

3. What is your opinion on AUs? It depends on the AU tbh. For the most part, I’m a fan. Some, not to so much. 

4. Favourite potential ship. You know the one where one half died or left before they could become a THING, but in your heart they were/should have been. before they become a thing? uhhh, probably timecanary?

5. fave poly ship/ot3s? you know the answer to this - james flint/thomas hamilton/miranda barlow

6. are you the head, heart, or hands? how much do personality tests fit you? the head i think. i pried being logical. also, yeah, most of them fits me for the majority of the time

7. Odd habit or thing you do? lmao i do this thing when my throat hurts that ppl have said sounds like the sound a gecko makes...

8. Favourite Dead Character Miranda Barlow.

9. Fave thing you’ve ever written/giffed/stanned? this jerejean gif, my sidewinder gifs, any of my flint/hamilton gifs. @nickoflahertys and @bcydbeaulieu‘’s header gifs

10. NOTPs goddddddd why meg whyyyy incestuous batfam, any bruce/kids, l/uriver, r/ay p/almer and anyone, v/ne x el/anor i can’t think of anything else right now but there is a list.... 

11. Hollywood Chris’ ranking i. Chris Pine ii. Colourful suit Chris Pine iii.  Sockless Chris Pine iv. the only chris that matters - Chris Pine   v.  Chris Evans

Tagged by @bisexuallaurellance​. Ta Mina xx

1. Put your music on shuffle and give me your favourite lyrics from the first five songs. I’m in the library and i didn’t bring my earphones so i can’t do this )): soz bud

2. how do you feel about kids? I’m indifferent? I’m not a fan but it’s fine. 

3. If you could be one fictional character for a day, who would it be and why? James Flint so that I know what it is like to be loved by both Thomas Hamilton and Miranda Barlow. 

4. If you could have dinner with any celebrity, alive or dead, who would it be? Celebrity? Chris Pine so that I can ask him what he has against socks

5. At a glance, who is your most popular artist in your music collection (i.e. whose songs do you have the most of)? Probably Panic At the Disco - mostly because Pretty. Odd is one of the albums I will always play on repeat

6. What would be your last meal? Idk. I’ve never really given this much thought if I’m honest with you

7. Favourite toy as a kid? My Tamiya toy car

8. What song fits your favourite character the best? Gay or European for James Flint. IDK where it’s from but someone made a fanvid of it and I haven’t stopped yelling about it.  That and Safe Inside by James Arthur for Zane Garrett. B Y E 

9. Ramble about something current affairs related. This is very local and no one outside my country will care but this sudden increase “malay rights” or as i like to call it ‘malay supremacy’. I know it has been happening since the country gained independence and social media has made it even more obvious. But the fact that because the malays are the majority, they think they have the right over everyone else. Like, fuck. you don’t shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. 

10. what fandom discourse makes you angry? all fandom discourse makes me angry

11. what’s your opinion on smut? I’m alright with it. But I’m not really a fan of Porn Without Plot

Tagged by @eliotswaugh​. Thanks for the tag, Ana! x

1. What’s the otp that haunts you? Like, we all have sunken otps, but what’s the ship that still haunts you and will always lowkey haunt you because they were so amazing that you will never understand how they didn’t end up together? God damn it Ana. I feel like you’re doing this on purpose. Our OTPs are so tragic. But the fact that Dan/Blair ended so badly will haunt me till my dying breath.

2. What show has Completely Disappointed You? Like, started-out-so-good-how-did-we-end-up-here disappointed you? ahem all of DCTV ahem. 

3.  What book has gotten to you? Not necessarily your favorite, but a book that hit you in the feels or made you cry or rethink things in your life or you just genuinely enjoyed? The Man Called Ove by Fedrik Bachmann. It’s not my absolute fave but god the book just got to me. 

4. If you could sink one of your otps so that another one of your otps could sail, which 2 would you pick? And why? I would sink Emma/Killian so that Thomas/Grace could sail. Out of all my proper I-was-so-invested-in-this-ship otps, I feel the least connection to Emma and Killian. I think it’s because the whole keeping things from each other to “save” them got so tiring and I wasn’t as invested in it as I was. And Thomas and Grace deserves to be happy together. 

5. What’s your IMBED alignment type thing? What does it mean? Explain that shit to me like I’m really dumb cause I’ve never understood it. I don’t know what this is?

6. Favorite book to movie or tv adaptation? ALL OF HBO WAR. B Y E 

7. What’s your HP house, who’s your demigod parent and what’s your Game of Thrones house? And do you think this actually says something about your personality? Ravenclaw, uh idk and I can’t remember. Sorry. Not really? I don’t know the Ravenclaw thing, parts of personality fits the house but others not so much. 

8. What’s your comfort show? Like, a show you can watch over and over again? Psych. Forever and always.

9. Favorite Queen song?  Somebody to Love.

10. Do you watch any medical shows (like Grey’s Anatomy or something)? What are your thoughts about it? jksladfhdsjafhjkdsafh NO. I have very, very strong feelings about this - and Emily knows all about them (mostly because she is a massive dick and keeps telling me about it and sending me videos and commentary). In saying that I tried watching Chicago Med and I quite liked it. But then the whole relationship issue got boring real fast and so I stopped. 

11. Who’s your Best Bisexual and your Best Gay character? Bisexual - god. ZANE ZACHARY GARRETT. I would die for him. I was gonna pick James Flint but I think he’s more pansexual Gay - MAX MAX MAX. Oh my god. Max is such as badass. She started as a prostitute and ended up controlling Nassau. And she doesn’t take shit from ANYONE. I love Max. 

My questions: 1. Would you consider watching a show/movie in a language you don’t understand? And have you? If so, what’s your favourite? 2. Three things you’ve bought and regretted.  3. Star Trek or Star Wars. Sherlock or Elementary. If you want, explain why.  4. Who is your favourite 25 and older LGBT+ characters? What book/movie/show are they from and why do you love them? 5. A book that you wish would be turned into a tv show or movie.  6. If we were to move to a different planet because this Earth is dead, would you call it Earth-2? If not, what would you name it?  7. Deep space or the deep sea?  8. Tom Hanks or Tom Cruise? 9. Diversity = representation: thoughts? 10. Why do you think buying things make us feel so happy? 11. Cillian Murphy: real or fake?

Tagging you’re not obligated to answer these questions as usual @nickoflahertys @zanesgarrett @chadwickbose @blackcanarydinah @scottsunmers @chochang @hcourageous @bcydbeaulieu @valjeanmoreaus @ruinsrebuilt @wondertrevz

[jazzviewswithcjshearn]

An Appreciation of the Pat Metheny Group’s “Still Life (Talking)” 30 years on

Pat Metheny: acoustic and electric guitars, guitar synthesizers; Lyle Mays: piano, keyboards; Steve Rodby: acoustic and electric basses; Paul Wertico: drums; Armando Marcal: percussion, voice; David Blamires: voice, Mark Ledford: voice.  Recorded March/April 1987 at Power Station, New York, New York.  Engineer: Rob Eaton, assistant engineer: Alexander Haas. Produced by Pat Metheny, Co-Producer: Lyle Mays, Associate Producers: Steve Rodby & Paul Wertico, with Steven Cantor and David Oakes. Originally Mastered by Bob Ludwig at Masterdisk, Remastered by Ted Jensen at Sterling Sound, New York, New York.  Originally released on Geffen Records, and reissued in 2006 on Nonesuch/Metheny Group Productions.

Thirty years ago in 1987, the Pat Metheny Group released the defining “Still Life (Talking)”.  The album was significant in several ways, as much as it was an expansion on the Brazilian sound of “First Circle”, it was also a departure.  The guitarist's ending of a nine year relationship with ECM signaled a resounding shift that reverberates to this day. Metheny was the first jazz artist to be signed to Geffen records in 1985, releasing the brilliant if controversial “Song X” with free jazz icon, the late Ornette Coleman that perhaps did even more to solidify his reputation amongst jazz purists than “80/81” (ECM, 1980) as a force to be reckoned with.  “Song X” revealed in no uncertain terms that he had reached an unprecedented level of creative and artistic control that at the time for any jazz artist was extremely rare: his Metheny Group Productions imprint allowed for complete freedom to make the product, Geffen only distributed the final album.  “Still Life (Talking)” sonically is a masterpiece, the use of the recording studio as an instrument is increased tenfold with engineer Rob Eaton at the helm who was an assistant engineer for “First Circle” beginning to define the sonic signature of the Metheny Group which he would refine and perfect over the next eighteen years.  Specifically Steve Rodby's bass sound is much richer and present than it’s predecessor adding an extremely sharp focus to the rhythm section of PMG co pilot, the great pianist Lyle Mays, then drummer Paul Wertico, and percussionist Armando Marcal, making his band debut.  The large palette of sounds courtesy of Mays unmistakeable synth orchestrations from his Oberheim, and Prophet V were enriched by the recent addition of the Roland JX 10, a synth that would become the main source of his signature (as Mays called it in a Jazziz interview podcast) flutophone sound and Metheny's much more in depth use of the Synclavier.  Though first heard on “Offramp” (ECM, 1982) by 1987 he had head first dove into it's composing, sequencing  and sampling capabilities,  increasingly evident on the new album.  Metheny created basic sketches of the tunes through the Synclavier which would be enhanced by the live musicians.  Adding even more to the dense textures were the recruitment of Canadian vocalist and guitarist David Blamires and Detroit vocalist/trumpeter the late Mark Ledford (1960-2004) to replace Pedro Aznar who had temporarily left the band and the two men opened the music up even more with their  decidedly more poppish and soul inflected approach to wordless vocals.  Additionally they could play just about any instrument under the sun, particularly dazzling in concert.

I first heard the album in either my sophomore or junior year of high school, as the guitar and orchestra teacher, and also my mentor Lawrence Lolli was transcribing the ethereal, memorable intro to “Minuano”.  At the time, I was still inextricably wedded to straight ahead jazz, hard bop to be exact, and in my snobbery foolishly considered Metheny “smooth jazz”, something that couldn't be farther from the truth.  Even at that stage, Lolli who is a diehard Metheny fan and was trying to open me to Pat's universe, there was something magical about that  lilting intro.  Less than a year later I became a raging Metheny fan, and this album as well as every album he's ever made has not left constant rotation in my daily listening.   A sort of gently cycling repeating guitar figure gorgeously dressed by Marcal's shaker percussion and distant melancholic vocals from Blamires and Ledford is initially stated, then again in a gorgeous unison falsetto. Ledford's voice really pops out on this second repeat of the vocal line, as if they are just examining the beauty of the universe at a leisurely pace.  The intro is  iconic, and was sadly excised from the piece around the time of the tour associated with “Secret Story”, and the tune is played to the present day without the haunting intro. The liquid rubato of the intro dissipates into the driving 6/8 main section, featuring Metheny's infamous “pop” of his E string, (something he uses to check the reverb levels of the guitar and to signal sound man David Oakes) leading into the triumphant main theme. Metheny's solo is beautiful, never at of a lack of ideas, Rodby's rock steady bass churning out the changes, and Marcal decorating the proceedings when needed. Interestingly this album was the first to feature Metheny's guitar to be miked to pick up a semi acoustic quality of his hollow body guitar, something that has subsequently been a feature of his sound the past fifteen years, but the test pilot of that sound so to speak appeared here.

“So May It Secretly Begin”, a richly detailed melodic line that has been one the guitarist continues to investigate in stripped down contexts to the present is also meant as a nod to the CTI era orchestrations of arranger/ composer Don Sebesky, and painter Paul Klee.  While the tune and Sebesky only bear a superficial resemblance, the depth of texture created by swelling Synclavier strings and Mays' use of flute patches set the tone on a grand scale for the graceful, sensuous melody stated by Metheny.  The acoustic like attack of his stereo miked Gibson ES 175 is boldly highlighted once more as it was on “Minuano” and again on “Third Wind” setting the stage for one of Lyle Mays' finest lyrical solos on record.  The piece with  subtle details of layers of activity throughout is something that became a Metheny trademark gives the listener food for thought upon multiple hearings. Additional bright color is added at the close with Ledford and Blamires doubling the main melodic line in falsetto vocals.  “So May It Secretly Begin” thoroughly a standard of the Metheny repertoire, actually has a puzzling place out of jazz, as the piece has been sampled multiple times by hip hop artists.  The reason why it seems puzzling is that the bridge and main “hook” of the song have been sampled pretty much straight through, such as on Statik Selektah's “To the Top”, and it sounds extremely out of context without the rest of the tune. While even more people get exposed to the beauty of Metheny's music through the sample it reveals an issue that producers seem to have with the guitarist's music in that they seem to be unable to negotiate successfully the rhythmic and harmonic complexities it contains.  Nevertheless, the tune placed second on the album continues an inspired thread that concludes the first side on LP, with “Last Train Home”.

“Last Train Home” may actually be one of Metheny's most famous and  visually evocative melodies.  One literally can imagine a train making a long journey as the sun sets, or already at dusk courtesy of Wertico's steady chugging brushes on snare, and Rodby's never flagging pulse.  The melody, played on Coral electric sitar, a stalwart instrument of many 60's and 70's pop classics is a melancholic glow all the way through, with a slight Asian tinge towards the end of the melody.  The guitarist's solo is one of his best ever in terms of purely being in service to the song, and the backgrounds of Ledford and Blamires' vocals are exquisite building to the tremendous post solo interlude contributed by Lyle Mays (though the tune is solely a Metheny composition) with breathtaking three voice counterpoint  resolving in a hymn like and serene manner, to usher in the melody to fade out.  “Last Train Home” has found tremendous life outside the record, infamously appearing in a Publix commercial, and most recently used as the closing theme for the Japanese animated JoJo's Bizarre Adventure television series once again exposing an audience to Metheny's music that may not have heard otherwise, a sure sign of the lasting legacy of “Still Life (Talking)”.

The back half of the album begins with the powerful one-two punch of “(It's Just) Talk” and the classic, anthemic “Third Wind”, smoldering Brazilian groovers with inspired melodies and solos.  “(It's Just) Talk” began life in embryonic form as the PMG played the piece in radically different form live during 1981-2 where it sounded more like a Lee Morgan “Sidewinder” boogaloo than what it became known as.  The melody of the final version on the album showcases Ledford and Blamires soul tinged approach to wordless vocals perfectly with the backdrop of Armando Marcal's ebullient cuica barks, the tune is probably known best for it's great repeating vocal line at the end of the tune which generates tremendous momentum.  Live, the tune showcased creatively bursting solos from Metheny and Mays and a heavily pulsating rhythm courtesy of the rhythm section.  Marcal's timbale blasts that signal “Third Wind” usher in a composition that's not only famous for it's wonderful melody, but the quicksilver lightning guitar break. Metheny's nod to the jazz tradition is explicit, with a burst of notes codified in his own bebop dialect conjuring Charlie Parker's break on “A Night in Tunisia”.  For all the frankly absurd criticisms of many that the guitarist does not swing, “Third Wind's” illustrious break and solo throws such claims out the window.  His invention is liquid, furious and meaningful with Wertico's constantly shifting ride cymbal swing behind him, comping and orchestrations from Mays put a bold exclamation on the proceedings and move the piece into a dizzying second section.  The chromatic movement  of this part of the composition further exposes the ties to bebop.  Again, for the consideration of space on the subsequent “Secret Story” and “We Live Here” tours, this middle section was cut, and turned into a drum-percussion duet section incorporating portions of the tune “Straight on Red” from the album “Travels” (ECM, 1983). Following the polyrhythmic web of the second section, with a heroic bed of Mays' synth and brass laid down, the classic final melody over a churning 12/8 rhythm is revealed.  The imminently singable vocal figure sets up a trademark smoldering Roland GR300 guitar synth solo for Metheny, one of his finest moments on record.  The guitarist has said that the use of the GR300 enables him to get into the range of an alto or soprano saxophone, and the horn like quality suggested by the synth's peculiar yet enchanting saw tooth wave tone take full of advantage of his aims.

The last two pieces, Lyle Mays' dark, haunting “Distance”, primarily synth driven, with eerie atmospheric vocals, percussion and subtle undercurrents of Synclavier triggered sampled sounds, along with the guitarist's stunning, heart wrenching “In Her Family” form a through composed final chapter and epilogue of sorts, as one uninterrupted piece. “Distance” would take on a considerably different complexion live, never really played verbatim as on the record it opened vistas for a searching Mays improvisation, otherwordly Synclavier guitar triggered soundscapes, and eerie colors from the rest of the band.  This engagement of the Group's avant garde proclivities of the band as a radio recording from the Montreux Jazz Festival and 1987 video from Argentina on youtube  demonstrate the breadth of just what this ensemble was capable of, nothing off limits in the “one long song” universe of Pat Metheny.

To close this appreciation of an unforgettable album, a note about how the legacy of “Still Life (Talking)” remains a vital force in contemporary jazz.  The Pat Metheny Group's “Brazilian trilogy” which started with the aforementioned “First Circle”, the sound was so engaging that it kind started a life of it's own.  While the guitarist by no means spearheaded the Brazilian jazz movement he was clearly inspired by musicians who deeply influenced him like Toninho Horta and Ivan Lins, and brought that joy he felt from Brazilian music. The one of a kind accessibility of  “Still Life (Talking)” spawned what has occasionally been called in Metheny fan circles as “Pat-lite”.

The fact that the album had come in the prime years of  so called smooth jazz radio, and received airplay on said stations created this culture of some bands trying to capture the feeling of the PMG on the surface but without the spark of the inner workings that truly make his music special. For example Canadian guitarist Brian Hughes' album “Under One Sky” (Justin Time, 1992) and the track “Nine Doors” is an obvious display of love for Metheny, and sounds like something distinctly from the “Still Life” period, but to these ears, it's missing something.

When the deluxe, 2 CD remastered edition of Metheny's watershed solo “Secret Story” (Nonesuch/Metheny Group Productions, 1992) was reissued in 2006, the guitarist unearthed “Understanding”, a tune that was intended for “Still Life (Talking)” but rejected.  The tune was performed live in 1987, as a folksy-pop inspired ballad, with room for improvisation, but the released version is purely composed with a string section from the original “Secret Story” sessions, and additional guitar from Metheny.  Regardless of it's brief length the composition is a gem, and could have stood with the original “Still Life” album.  

The 2006 Nonesuch remaster and reissue of “Still Life (Talking)” is definitive, a stone classic that remains one of the best recordings in the Pat Metheny catalog.  The album really stands the test of time with stunning compositions, immaculate sound and production. No collection should be without it.

Footnotes: Pedro Aznar, the phenomenal Argentinean vocalist and multi instrument would return for the follow up “Letter From Home” (Nonesuch/Metheny Group Productions, 1989) and subsequent 1991 world tour that produced “The Road To You: Recorded Live in Europe” (Nonesuch/Metheny Group Productions, 1993).

In a 2006 podcast supplement celebrating the reissue of the album, Metheny noted the band really disliked “Still Life (Talking)” initially and the album was nearly shelved.  By consensus, they decided to release it, and the album later won the 1988 Grammy award for Best  Jazz Fusion Performance, and was a certified gold record having sold over 500,000 copies.

(c) 2017, CJ Shearn