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lilpomelito · 2 years ago

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“What's wrong with Pop music?”

Eddie stops mid rant and spins around. Steve is sitting upside down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, his silky hair touching the floor.

“I mean,” Steve continues, his voice a little strained by his position, “if so many people like it, there has to be something good about it, right?”

Eddie shares a look with Jonathan, hoping to find an ally, but the man looks zonked out of his mind. Argyle really brought the good shit with him.

“That's not the point, Stevie,” Eddie explains as he sits down on the floor next to the guy's head. “It's popular because it's the only shit the big corpos are pushing on the radio. It's what everyone listens to, so everyone thinks they have to like it to be liked. To be accepted. And it's not even good music! Where's the artistic merit in cheap studio synthesizers mixed with braindead lyrics like wake me up before you go go?"”

Steve frowns. “Not all popular music is like that. Also what's wrong with wanting to be liked?”

“Do you not like Freddie Mercury?” Robin gasps, lifting her head from Steve's stomach, and she sounds heavily offended.

Eddie blinks for second, confused as to where the conversation has suddenly turned. But Steve nods, apparently following her line of reasoning.

“Yeah, man. Queen is like, the most popular band in history. Do they not have artistic merit?”

“No, of course not, that's not what I–”

“And the government is not conspiring to push pop music, Eddie, we've seen they're too busy experimenting on children and opening portals to a parallel dimension,” Robin says.

“What about Bowie?” Steve says. “You loved Labyrinth. Didn't shut up about it for like a week. He's pop!”

“The point,” Eddie insists, flustered, avoiding to watch directly Steve's upside down smirk, “is forced conformity. Queen are all nerds! Bowie is a huge nerd. Where would they be now if they had played high school football?”

Jonathan nods slowly, but doesn't comment.

“What about astronauts?” Nancy asks, from where she's sitting at Johnathan's feet. “They're nerds, yes, but they also have to be in great physical shape. I bet most of them were athletes in school.”

“Yeah, totally!” Steve nods. “Remember Casey Johnson? He was captain of the basketball team when I was a freshman. He was valedictorian, and I think he went to Standford on a sports scholarship!”

“Yeah, I remember him,” Robin says, rolling her eyes. “One of my friends had a huuuuge crush on him.”

Steve's cheeks go red. He incorporates himself, despite Robin's protests, and sits on the couch like a normal person.

“Whatever. He was a nerd and an athlete. What's conformist about that?”

Eddie stares at him, narrowing his eyes. “Nothing, I guess. Or everything. He succeeded at academia, which was designed to shape kids into exploitable workers under capitalism—”

Jonathan groans behind him.

“—and made captain in a sport that's basically throwing balls into laundry baskets and calling it strategy. Praising people for that to the point where schools are giving scholarships is a little too much.”

“You try it, then, man,” Argyle calls from where he's laying on the rug, star shape style. “I bet you ten bucks you can't win at throwing laundry into baskets against Steve. Or my boy Lucas.”

Robin laughs maniacally. “Oh, I want to see that! Steve please destroy him, his ego needs a little humbling.”

The conversation moves on after that, since everybody looks like they're already over Eddie's rant. He doesn't mind, really. It's fun to ramp up the dramatic indignation against The Man, or whatever. It always causes a reaction, and even people who agree with him somewhat eventually hit a limit. Eddie likes to stick his finger and find that limit.

But not Steve. He's looking at Eddie like he's fascinating.

“You're a hypocrite.”

Eddie falters, biting down a smirk. “How come?”

Steve scoots a little closer. “You want to be a rockstar. You don't just want to live off making music. You want to be famous. You want people to like you.”

Eddie stares at him for a second, frozen in place.

“That's not—”

But Steve smiles, gentle. “That's alright. We all do. And you want to know a secret about being popular?”

Eddie can't resist. For all he protests about popularity and conformity and being so normal everybody likes you, he does wonder what it feels like to be on the other side. So he nods.

Steve smiles sadly. “It doesn't actually change anything. You think it means more people like you, but it just means more people are aware of you. What you do, what you say. Who are your friends, who you date. Where you go, when you go there. And at some point you feel like you can't escape it. And yeah, you do start to conform to the norm. Not because you think it's what's best but because you're so aware of people's opinions of you that you always choose the path of least resistance.”

Eddie... has never considered that. He moves a little closer to Steve as his voice goes quiet.

“You think it was fun to run into a random suburban mom in the grocery store and have her be furious at me because I was dating Susan Davis? Who apparently was her daughter's cousin, and she had a crush on me, and was planning on asking me to prom? How on earth was I supposed to know that? And she was double mad that I didn't even know who her daughter was. Like there's two hundred kids in Hawkins High. I can't know everyone!”

Eddie tries not to laugh, because Steve seems upset by this, but the situation is kind of ridiculous.

“And I think they got into their heads that because they knew of me I was supposed to also know them. But they didn't actually know me. I made prom King, people were mad. I was captain of the basketball team, people were mad. I then turned down being captain of the swim team and was just co-captain, people were still mad. I took a job, and people made fun of me. I lost that job because the mall caught on fire, people also made fun of me. I took another job, and people say I'm "wasting my potential", whatever that means. I don't know man. I think you can never win with people.”

Eddie grabs Steve's hand, touching softly his palm. It seems to work, and Steve relaxes a tiny bit under his touch.

What Steve said sounded exactly like what Eddie was talking about: the pressure to be what society wants, not what you want. He can tell it's a touchy subject for Steve, who has been under the crushing spotlight of being a relatively small town's golden boy.

So Eddie doesn't push any further.

“You got me there, though,” he says.

Steve smiles again. “Yeah?”

“Yeap,” Eddie nods. “I do want to be a famous rockstar. I do want to be known and liked and admired. I've never had that. But I guess you're right. We can't have it both ways.”

Robin, who up to that point had been discussing with Argyle the difference between an oboe and a clarinet, jumps in. “It's the horrifying ordeal of being known.”

Steve laughs. Eddie can't help it, his laugh is too contagious. He can't understand how people in this hellscape of a town ever looked at this boy and thought "he's not enough." With him? He gets it. Eddie's list of failures is a mile long. But Stevie? Sunshine incarnate, puppy-eyed, bitchy beautiful and smart Steve Harrington? There's nothing to complain about.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #Jonathan byers #argyle #the fruity four #my fics #mine

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metalhoops · 2 years ago

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The place was Chicago. The year was 1990.

It was early enough into the year that the term ‘1990′ still sounded space aged. It’d been the 80s for as long as Eddie cared to remember. It was late enough in the year that everyone kept telling him winter was over. Nevertheless, he wore the leather jacket he’d ‘borrowed’ from his ex-boyfriend. Spring in Chicago was worse than a million L.A. winters.

Eddie hated California on principle, but his record label was in Burbank. Despite the band being one of the biggest rising stars in the metal scene, he didn’t have room to get cocky. He’d spent the break between tours last year with his aforementioned ex-boyfriend in his New York apartment.

The place had been small enough that smoking with the windows open felt like a hotbox session. There was one window in the apartment. It was in the bathroom and only opened an inch if you could get it to open at all. It wasn’t the rockstar life he’d fantasised about back in high school, but he was getting by.

So how the hell did he end up in Chicago? He was getting there.

As the filmmaker he’d slept with in Toronto had told him, opening in media res was the best way to hold an audience's attention. Was that what Eddie was doing? Trying to retell the shitshow of his life back to himself? Trying to make sense of it all, make it climax to something meaningful? Maybe.

Eddie had gotten into the habit of keeping a journal, mostly for lyrics. The band was meant to be recording their third full-length studio album in a matter of months and Eddie only had three songs that were worth anything. To make matters worse, the other two had been concept albums.

Corroded Coffin’s first and sophomore albums had been different enough that the band hadn’t been boxed into anything. Yes, they were a metal band, but they got their fair share of punks, goths and even a handful of yuppies that’d shown up to their gigs in the past. Hell, their opening act had been a grunge band. It sounded pretentious as fuck, but Eddie wasn’t afraid to transcend genres. The metal scene was changing. They had to learn to change with it.

The nail in his goddamn Corroded Coffin was that the band were known for their concept albums. Their first album Knightmare was a D&D-inspired thrash, metal album. Think Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow, with a few more homoerotic undertones. Their next album, Dream Dimension was more sci-fi leaning. It told the story of an unnamed group of kids who’d stumbled into another dimension. It was a little more glam metal. Some of the B-sides like ‘My Year’ and ‘Lakeside Interlude’ had been downright shoegaze. One magazine had likened the story to Dream Warriors, which Eddie thought was fitting.

It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t have ideas for the next album. That was the problem. Eddie did have an idea. He just couldn’t write the damn thing. It was meant to be his magnum opus, the third album that’d stand on its own but also interconnect with the other two.

He’d call it Daydream. It followed the story of a white-collar guy living the perfect nuclear family life, complete with a white picket fence and a Malibu Barbie, dream house. The thing was, the dude was miserable. He’d spend all his free time daydreaming about adventure and forgotten realms.

The kicker was halfway through the album the listener would realise the guy was the titular knight from Knightmare. His perfect suburban life was turned upside down when his kid disappeared à la portal to another dimension. It’d be perfect. All Eddie had to do is write it, and that was the damn thing. He couldn’t.

All his albums were about something. There was always a meaning beneath the meaning. Knightmare? Easy, that was about escapism. Dream Dimension? It was about growing up too fast. Daydream? That was more complicated.

Daydream was why Eddie needed to write in his journal. It was why he needed to remember that the year was 1990 and that he was in Chicago.

The thing was, Eddie didn’t remember writing Dream Dimension. There was a 1988 sized hole in his memory between their first and second US tours. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what caused it. In their early days, they were practically paid in 8 Balls and party favours. Eddie always had an addictive personality and getting into anything stronger than weed had been a bad idea.

It wasn’t until his bandmates had an intervention that he’d been able to see the forest through the trees. Realising there was a whole chunk of his life he’d missed out on was petrifying. So, Eddie kept a journal.

He’d been sober for almost a year. He was practically fucking straight-edge without all the pretentiousness that came with it, but he knew one slip-up was enough to send him spiralling. That was how he ended up in Chicago.

It was the last show of their Dream Dimension tour, and they were in Chicago. Eddie was always lively on stage. Gareth had abandoned one of his drumsticks during a solo only for Eddie to run across the stage, slip and bite the dust with his ankle going one way and the rest of him going another.

He’d woken up in a hospital with a lump on his ankle the size of a baseball and the uncomfortably familiar feeling of being high off his face on painkillers.

To answer the question, Daydream was about getting older. It was about being okay with getting older. It was about doing it your own way. Back in the thick of it all, it’d looked like Eddie wasn’t going to make it to thirty. He was trying to be okay with the idea that he might.

Last year, Jeff got married to a nice girl who’d been their costume designer for their first music video. It’d shaken him in a way he didn’t know how to explain. He was in his mid-twenties, yet suddenly he felt old. Wayne had retired and with Eddie’s help brought a Winnebago. He was probably fishing in Nebraska right now.

See, the thing about the titular character in Daydream, was that he’d conformed to what life was supposed to be. By the end of the album, he’d have left that life behind for another, one of action and adventure, because Eddie could never understand why Dorothy wanted to leave Oz for fucking Kansas. Fuck Kansas, on principal.

Something about the album wasn’t clicking. Knightmare was leaving his boring life but ultimately, he was alone. Was that what getting older was all about? Being okay with being alone? When you were gay in 1990, it might be.

After the tour ended he hadn’t wanted to go back to his apartment in Burbank. He hated it there. He’d entertained the idea of heading back to New York but it was depressing. It reminded him of Jack, and how so many of their friends weren’t around anymore.

When all was said and done, he and Gareth decided to stay in Chicago. He never said it out loud, but Eddie was sure his friend had stuck around to keep an eye on him.

Sometimes, Eddie just wanted someone to come home to. Maybe that was why he’d had a string of shit boyfriends. If you weren’t picky, people would walk all over you.

Jack had been the one that’d made Eddie swear off dating. It wasn’t worth the trouble. He’d rather die alone. His name wasn’t even Jack, it was Corey, but everyone called him Jack. Short for Jacket. Eddie wished he was joking. That should’ve been the first red flag.

The thing about Corey was he always wore the same goddamn custom-made, leather jacket, all year round. He’d liked having sex in front of his full-length mirror with Eddie always on his knees, which should’ve been at least a yellow flag. He never liked anything gentle. Corey liked the idea of having a rockstar boyfriend more than he actually liked Eddie or monogamy. That was why when Eddie left, he took his jacket.

He didn’t know why he was still wearing it, but he was. He pulled it on as he hobbled in his moon boot across the street from his and Gareth’s rented apartment to the record store. He hadn’t gone outside in a week, and he was about to start climbing up the goddamn walls. He just needed to go somewhere, and Eddie loved record stores, especially little indie ones.

Once inside, Eddie noticed the place was practically empty save for the guy behind the counter. They had an eclectic mix of records and zines lining the shelves. Eddie was glad the place was quiet. He didn’t have to worry about being spotted. It wasn’t like they were The Beatles. They could go places but in a big enough crowd, he was sure to turn a few heads. Some days, Eddie just wanted to disappear.

They had Corroded Coffin records on the display shelf and a couple of magazines with his band's name on the cover, which made pride swell in Eddie’s chest, but he wasn’t here for stroking his ego. He wanted to know what other people were doing and get back in touch with the scene.

He was busy sifting through the bargain bin when he felt someone slide in beside him. He cringed, almost expecting it to be some over-enthused metal head with a pen and a Corroded Coffin tee shirt, but it was just the dude behind the counter.

“Sorry, can I squeeze past?” the guy mumbled, a crate of records awkwardly tucked beneath his shoulder.

Eddie did his best to make himself small, his dumbass ankle making a simple task seem like an effort. He didn’t miss the way the man’s free hand brushed over his side as he passed, as though trying to assure Eddie stayed stable.

“Place sure is quiet,” Eddie observed glancing over at the man.

His jeans were fitted, tight in all the right places. He’d rolled up the cuffs of his shirt to reveal more of his bicep than Eddie deemed necessary and god his hair. There was something about his hair. Something about him seemed familiar. Eddie really hoped they hadn’t hooked up once. That’d be awkward as hell.

“Yeah, we usually close around five,” The man replied putting an album on the shelf.

It was almost six. Shit.

Eddie hated when people did that. They treated him differently because his name was in the papers. Everyone wanted something from him, and they thought doing favours was a good way to win him over. It wasn’t. The guy could clearly see something shift in Eddie.

“It’s no big deal. I have to stay an hour late to replace the stock, plus my roommate has a girl over, so I’d rather be here,” The boy laughed, shooting a look at Eddie over his shoulder, a stray strand of his perfect goddamn hair falling in his face.

The boy paused, teeth worrying away at his lower lip, his hand falling to his hip as his eyes searched Eddie's face.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked.

And there it was. Sometimes people did that. They played dumb about who he was before making a big goddamn deal out of it. Eddie suddenly wanted to crawl back to his apartment and spend another month in isolation.

The boy snapped his fingers in triumph.

“Munson,” He practically shouted and holy fucking shit, that wasn’t what Eddie expected.

No one knew his last name, not his real one. Everyone changed their names when they got famous. He’d gone for something simple, Eddie Emerson, it had some alliteration, just like Corroded Coffin. It wasn’t too far from his real name but not even the die-hards knew him as Munson.

Then Eddie remembered.

This guy was Steve goddamn Harrington. He didn’t remember many people from high school, but he remembered Steve.

“Harrington,” Eddie breathed in disbelief. To his surprise, Steve screwed up his nose.

“Unfortunately,” He admitted and stuck out a hand expectantly. Eddie leaned down and clasped Steve’s hand. From what he remembered of Steve, the guy had never been this friendly.

“Nice to re-meet you I guess. I’d like to think I’ve changed a little in over five years.” He had, Eddie didn’t know how to explain how he knew, he just did. It was something about the way the boy held himself.

“What brings you to Chicago?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that one of Eddie’s records was sitting on the shelf beside him. Honestly, it was a breath of fresh air to find someone who didn’t know who he was. He could keep the charade up a little bit longer.

“Oh you know, work stuff,” Eddie answered vaguely, toying with his hair.

That was something he did when he was flirting and holy shit, he needed to squash that right goddamn now. He wasn’t looking to date anybody, and he remembered Steve being very straight in high school. He needed to save himself from another heartbreak.

“You live in Chicago now?” Eddie asked. The‘ because you didn’t seem like the type to ever leave’ was implied.

“Yeah. Rob, my roommate, she practically dragged me here. We’ve been attached at the hip since I graduated. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else I wanted to be,” Steve answered.

A little detail about the statement screamed for Eddie’s attention.

“The same roommate that has a girl over?” He pressed and watch Steve fold his arms over his chest, all huffy indignation locked and loaded, begging for Eddie to choose his next words wisely.

“The same,” he confirmed. Now that Eddie knew, he noticed they were selling a couple of queer zines. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Steve might just be progressive.

“I thought you were meant to be the lady's man, Steve,” Eddie tried hoping that was enough to make Steve’s defences fall. To his surprise, Steve snorted and shook his head.

“Like I said, lots changed since high school. My luck in the dating department couldn’t be worse,” he admitted as he returned to stacking the shelves.

Eddie watched the planes of his back move beneath his shirt, wanting to push himself against him, to feel what it was like for Steve to move beneath him.

He really needed to get a hold of himself.

“Couldn’t be worse than my luck,” Eddie rebutted offhandedly.

Steve shook his head and shot Eddie another glance over his shoulder. He inhaled deeply as though preparing to tell a long story. Eddie leaned against the shelf to show Steve he was all ears.

“Last month, I went on a date with a girl and she asked me if she could call me by her ex-boyfriend’s name,” Steve began.

Eddie screwed up his nose in response.

“Worse still, I was so shocked she’d asked, I just agreed to it.” It was Eddie’s turn to snort.

“Stevie, you didn’t.”

Stevie. Goddamn Stevie. Don’t do this to yourself, Munson. Pet names are one step away from a full-blown crush.

“I did. Do I look like a ‘Juan’ to you?” Steve asked honestly. The question had Eddie doubled over in stitches.

“Alright, alright. That’s pretty bad, but that’s one bad date,” Eddie reasoned.

“Dude, I wasn’t finished. The girl before that realised she was a lesbian, while on a date with me. Which is like... the third time that’s happened,” Steve admitted.

Eddie’s hand had betrayed him and returned to toy with a strand of his hair. He hid behind it as he tried to mask a laugh. This guy did have shit luck.

“You’re a lesbian magnet,” Eddie reasoned watching as Steve hid behind his hands.

“And the time before that, I thought I was getting somewhere with a guy. We’d been on three dates before he told me he had a wife.”

Steve made the next confession a little quieter than the others, a little more reserved. Eddie felt the hairs on his arm stand on end. Steve had changed since high school.

“Once I hooked up with a guy who’d only give me head if I sang to him while he did it,” Eddie admitted, feeling the need to get Steve off the defensive and add to the pity party. He watched the boy’s features shift.

“Oh wow, that’s bad. You should’ve pretended to be tone-deaf,” Steve reasoned, once more proving he had no idea what Eddie did for a living.

“See I was torn between that and singing La Cucaracha at the top of my lungs.” Steve snorted, honest to god snorted.

The two lapsed into silence but it was a comfortable one. Steve smoothed down his hair five times within the space of a minute before taking a deep breath.

Eddie knew what was coming. He wasn’t dumb, but a part of him would always be trapped back in high school. It kept screaming there was no way a popular kid like Steve would talk to a loser like him. He thought he’d buried that part of himself, yet here it was, rising from the dead.

“Do you want to get a drink?”

And there it was. Eddie didn’t mean to cringe, but Steve caught it, his hands stuffed themselves into the too-tight back pockets of his jeans.

“Or not,” He muttered averting his gaze.

“No. It’s not that. I... I don’t drink.”

There you go Gareth. He was responsible enough to look after himself.

“I could do dinner though,” Eddie tried to throw Steve a bone.

Eddie waited for Steve to throw up one of the red flags he’d gotten used to seeing with all the men he’d dated or hooked up with. Eddie would say he didn’t drink, and they’d give him a funny look or mutter something about him being a killjoy.

“There’s a place that does a wicked deep-dish pizza not far from here. You said you weren’t from Chicago, right? You’ve gotta have the pizza, it’s a rite of passage,” Steve ploughed on.

“Sure,” He muttered trying not to look as surprised as he felt.

He watched Steve buzz around the record store, shutting up shop and then extending a hand shyly to Eddie. Right, his stupid goddamn leg. At least it gave him an excuse to get up close and personal with Steve in the street and not draw too much attention.

The two made the short walk to the pizzeria at a plodding pace, talking about nothing in particular.

“What happened to your leg?” Steve asked as they slid into the booth.

“Slid on a drumstick and took a nosedive off a stage,” Eddie admitted. He wasn’t going to outright lie to Steve.

“Ouch,” Steve mumbled, passing the menu over to Eddie.

“So, you still do band stuff? I remember that high school talent show,” Steve noted, and Eddie cringed, letting his head drop to the table.

“I really wish you didn’t,” He chuckled before confirming,

“Yeah, I still do band stuff,” as he raised his head and chanced a glance at Steve.

“Cool,” was all he said before they shifted the subject.

They were swapping stories about best friends, roommates, shared high-school trauma and generally flirting when a figure approached their booth. It was a kid, who couldn’t be older than fifteen with a shaved head and a battle jacket. He reminded Eddie of himself at that age. He knew what was coming.

“You’re Eddie Emerson, right? From Corroded Coffin,” the kid asked, his hands shaking. He watched as a furrow appeared on Steve’s brow before his jaw dropped. So Steve wasn’t totally clueless.

“One and only. You want me to sign something for you?” Eddie asked, having gone through this song and dance a million times before. He tried to be nice, after all, it was a kid, but sometimes he got tired of always having to be on.

To make matters worse it happened in front of Steve. Something about people coming up to him always sat wrong with other guys he’d been with. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or ego that did it, but he knew if he ran into a fan on a date, the rest of the night typically went sideways.

He signed the back of a napkin as he listened to the kid rattle off praise for their music. He talked about his favourite songs and lyrics. Eddie wished he knew what to say, wished he knew how to take a compliment but he didn’t. To his surprise, he heard Steve speak.

“Hey, did you make this?” Steve asked indicating the kid's battle jacket, forcing him to come up for air.

“Yeah, all on my own.”

The kid blinked and ran his hand over a couple of the hand-sewn patches. Steve obviously knew nothing about the scene because if you didn’t make your own jacket people would call you a poser. It was a nice shout though because he watched the kid light up.

“Even the safety pins?” Steve asked curiously.

Eddie watched as the kid launched into a story of every little pin and stitch in the jacket, turning his attention away from Eddie, and giving him space to catch his breath. It was nice. He felt like Steve had seen him.

After another few minutes, the kid’s dad came to collect him and Eddie felt his body sag against the diner booth.

“You get that all the time?” Steve asked, his foot nudging Eddie’s under the table.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” He grumbled scrubbing his face. Steve nudged his foot again, giving him a goofy grin.

“At least he liked your stuff,” He proposed.

“I’m guessing it’s not your thing,” Eddie reasoned. He wasn’t one for stereotypes, but he really didn’t look like the typical Corroded Coffin fan.

“I’m not too picky when it comes to music. I just listen to top forty stuff.” Eddie shot him a disbelieving look.

“Dude you work in a record store,” he laughed and Steve shrugged.

“Among other things. I just got the job to hang out with Robin. She works there too. She only took the job to try and peddle her girlfriend Nancy’s zines. Sometimes I write the sports section because Nancy, Robin and Jonathan don’t know anything about sports.” Eddie rested his head in the palm of his hand, listening attentively.

“Wait, is that the same Nancy that you dated back in high school?” He asked, trying to sound scandalised, glad to have a break from the rock star bullshit.

“Like you said, lesbian magnet,” Steve grumbled, mirroring Eddie’s gesture, resting his head in his hand.

“What are you actually doing in town?” Steve asked, more curious than nosy.

“Trying to run away from writing our third album,” Eddie spoke.

It’d been the first time he admitted it out loud. He didn’t talk about his music until he thought it was worth something, but Steve was a good listener. To Eddie’s surprise, he found himself spilling his guts to Steve. He told him all about the third album, about the goddamn symbolism, and the way things just weren’t clicking.

“Why don’t you give him a reason to stay?” Steve asked when Eddie finished his monologue, as though it was the simplest solution in the world.

“I mean, Dorothy doesn’t go back to Kansas because she doesn’t like Oz, she misses home. She misses her family. You want your knight guy to stay in fantasy land? Give him someone to stay for,” Steve proposed, and it was like the final puzzle piece sliding into place. It was brilliant.

“Stevie, I could kiss you,” Eddie spoke.

“Is that a promise?” Steve asked with a cheeky grin.

“Let’s get out of here and find out.”

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 month ago

Text

In Every World

Pairing: Terry McGinnis x fem!reader

Summary: Years after losing Terry, fate offers a twisted second chance to tell him how you feel.

Warnings: angst, character death, fluff, comfort, Terry is the ultimate boyfriend, if the names are confusing just pretend they're not

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

A/N: Season 2 Terry McGinnis is my everything.✨ I love him so much but I'm still watching the show for the first time so he's sure to be OOC. Sorry about that! Please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in reading more for him!!🫶🏼

“Looks normal to me,” Dick says, leaning against the back of Bruce’s chair as you comb through security camera footage.

“Just a couple jokers,” Tim adds.

“Wait, Bruce,” you interrupt. “Go back a few seconds.”

Bruce drags his finger over the batcomputer-version of a trackpad before he pauses the video. You lean closer, narrowing your eyes to find what seems different about the face frozen in time.

“Look at his eyes,” you direct.

“They’re creepy. They’re all creepy,” Dick replies.

“No, she’s right,” Bruce agrees. “They look like-“

“Bat’s eyes,” you finish with him.

Something metallic crashes to the floor before Jason huffs, “That would explain the chick with ram horns I just met in an alley by the Narrows.”

“Who can do this kind of cosmetic work?” Tim asks.

“It’s not cosmetic,” Jason corrects. “It’s like… I think it’s in their DNA.”

“Splicing,” you offer. “It’s a way of altering someone’s DNA with the insertion of animal chromosomes.”

“I take it your experience with it was different?” Bruce inquires.

“Dr. Abel Cuvier marketed the splicers to high school kids. Most adults were against it, the DA, the commissioner. It was on track to be made illegal.”

“And I take it this Cuvier was too young to be here now?” Dick asks. “Which is still confusing.”

“What’s confusing about it, Bluebird?” Jason asks rhetorically. “She’s from the future and from a different timeline so not only is everything she's dealt with more advanced, it’s also completely different.”

“Focus,” Bruce calls, shaking his head. “If these people are being genetically altered, we’ll need an antidote to the foreign deoxyribonucleic acid.”

“Where’s Damian? Sounds like his lab experience could be helpful,” Tim jokes.

Bruce tunes out their brotherly banter, opting to watch your intense gaze on the computer screen. There’s a one-block radius where the spliced individuals seem to migrate. Or come from.

“What’s the address of this building?” you ask, pointing to the map showing the locations of the security cameras.

Bruce tells you the address and then says, “It’s a textile manufacturing facility—or it was before it was condemned.”

“Carmin’s Taxidermy Studio. That’s what it was where I came from. It was condemned then, too, but Cuvier used it as a hideout.”

“So, you think Cuvier is here?”

“That or there’s another timestream break and these people are coming from another dimension, universe, whatever we’re calling it.”

“Then we should get down there,” Jason calls.

“Not if this is anything like my experience with Cuvier. He had vials of splicing material ready to go and didn’t hesitate to turn people without consent. He was one of those guys you wanted to slag but couldn’t.”

“Slag?” Dick repeats, failing to hide his amusement.

“You’re all so annoying,” you groan.

“There will be time for this later,” Bruce interrupts. “We’ve got something.”

Turning your attention back to the monitors, you see an energy signature similar to the one you arrived through. The difference is that your world was ending and the portal collapsed relatively quickly, whereas this pathway is sustained. If people can come and go between the realities as they please, the splicing is the least of your concerns.

“Gear up,” Bruce announces, standing and pulling his cowl over his eyes.

Dick and Jason freeze, their eyes widening as they continue watching the screen. Bruce turns quickly, surprised to see another energy anomaly growing directly above Wayne Manor. Before he can speak, a bright white circle appears in the Batcave. You raise your arm to block out some of the light but try to watch who comes out.

Bruce readies a batarang, Jason racks his Glock, and Dick taps his Escrima sticks together as someone steps out and into the cave. Bruce throws his batarang, and the man exiting the portal catches it.

“No way,” Dick breathes.

You step forward and lower your arm. “Bruce?”

He narrows his eyes at you before complaining, “I’m so sick of time travel.”

“It’s not exactly time travel,” your Bruce – Batman – argues.

“Right,” future Bruce agrees sarcastically. “That’s an important distinction to make right now. Interesting.”

You take another step toward the older, unmasked Bruce and ask, “Are you…”

“I’m not from your world,” he offers, with his hand on your shoulder.

Nodding, you step back, allowing Bruce’s hand to slip from your shoulder.

“Why’d you step through the portal?” Jason asks him. “This Bruce would never.”

“I didn’t. I turned around and I was here.”

“Were you in the cave?” you ask.

He nods, and you pull your lip between your teeth to think.

“Father!” Damian yells.

Everyone in the cave turns. Damian went to bed hours ago, and now he’s descending the stairs dressed in his Robin uniform and extending a katana behind him.

“I found someone who may be of interest to you,” he adds.

Stepping into the light, you see who he’s directing with the point of his sword. Your eyes widen as you see the bright red marking on his chest.

“Terry?” you ask softly.

Batman – the one with the tall ears and the bright red bat insignia, held at knifepoint by his mentor’s lab-grown son – looks up at the sound of your voice. He steps forward, knocks Damian’s katana onto the floor, and says your name in reply.

He walks to you and wraps his arms around your waist, holding you so tightly against his chest that your ribs begin to ache. You don’t care, though, so you hug him like you’ll never see him again. Because you thought you wouldn’t.

Terry’s Bruce lays his hand on Terry’s back and says, “She’s not from our reality, McGinnis. She’s gone.”

“Gone?” you repeat, pulling back slowly.

“I hate to break up the reunion,” Damian calls. “But there’s a goat-faced lady trying to break into GCPD headquarters.”

You turn to Jason and say, “Batman can help.”

“That won’t get confusing,” Jason grumbles. He looks at Terry, his expression hidden by the hood, and says, “You’re with me, then, McGinnis.”

“All due respect,” Terry begins, glancing toward you.

“I’ll be in your ear,” you promise. “Like before.”

Terry smiles beneath the cowl. He nods and drags his hand across your waist before he follows Jason out of the cave.

“I guess it’s just you and me, Wayne,” you say, following future Bruce to the desk.

“Don’t get too attached to this version of Terry,” he warns. “You’ll go back to your time, and he’ll be devastated going back to his.”

“I wish,” you murmur. “I don’t have a time anymore. I lost Terry, Bruce, so if this is a chance to say goodbye, bet every cred you have that I’m going to use it.”

Bruce holds your eyes, then turns to the blinking trackers and the radio feed.

“How do we close this thing?” Dick asks.

“It’s essentially an alternating circuit of time and energy. It’s measured in seconds,” Bruce replies.

“I can measure it,” Terry assures everyone. “Once we know the unit of circulation, we can shut it down.”

“How are you supposed to get home then?” Batman asks.

“I’ll worry about that,” Bruce says. “You get that energy circuit shut down and the spliced kids in cuffs.”

“Bravo-Six, going dark,” Jason quotes.

“What?” Terry and Bruce ask together.

“He’s quoting a video game,” you explain. “Call of Duty, I think.”

“Retro,” Terry muses. “Measuring the stream now.”

“Use the reciprocal,” Bruce reminds him.

“Yeah, I got it, Wayne.”

You smile at their back-and-forth, but tears prick your eyes because Bruce wasn’t wrong. He and Terry will go back to their timeline, and you’ll be left behind. Again.

While Bruce and Batman work on creating a one-way time jump to get Bruce and Terry home, you take Terry’s hand and lead him into a secluded corner of the cave. Your hands rest on his shoulders, and he nods when you brush your fingers against the bottom of his cowl. Pulling it over his head, you look at Terry McGinnis for the first time in too long.

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Everything’s schway,” he replies, smiling. “You?”

You nod. It’s a lie, and Terry knows it. Brushing your fingers over his jaw, you wonder what took you so long. You waited too long to tell Terry how you felt in high school. And when you were finally willing to risk everything by telling him, he pushed you to safety and told you not to look back. Like that, he was gone forever. Everything was gone when you looked back. Yet, another Bruce Wayne took you in and gave you a home when you didn’t have one.

Your hand drops as you say, “Be careful when you get home, okay?”

“What happened? On your world, I mean,” he inquires.

“It’s a long story, but it involves a bad guy trying to turn the whole world bad. As far as I can tell, it’s a bad guy you’ve already dealt with.”

“So, your version of me...”

“I don’t think Terry McGinnis was ever mine, but, yeah, he’s gone. Everybody is, and trust me, I’ve checked.”

“Well, my version of you – who wasn’t really mine either – saved my life,” Terry whispers. “She saved me after my father was killed, and she saved me again when Batman couldn’t.”

You wipe your cheeks and smile at Terry. “She was yours. She was always yours.”

Terry catches one of your tears on his thumb before he rests his palm on your cheek and promises, “He was yours, too.”

“Hey, punch some jokerz for me when you get back?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Terry smiles and says, “Yeah, anything.”

On the other side of the cave, Dick and Jason watch you and Terry. Since you arrived, they’ve accepted you as part of their family.

“Why doesn’t she just go with him?” Jason asks.

“Because realities have to stay separate,” Dick replies, imitating Bruce. He sighs and adds, “No one knows.”

Jason looks away from you to watch the two different versions of Bruce work together and shakes his head. They want to see you happy but understand that things aren’t as simple as they seem.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce announces. He turns and asks, “Where’d they go?”

“You’re going to give Bruce an ulcer,” you chide, jogging to keep up with Terry’s long strides.

“It’s around here somewhere,” Terry mumbles, unconsciously brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

“Maybe in your Wayne Manor. This one still has Alfred cleaning up after their messes.”

Terry stops and presses the side of a grandfather clock. It opens a dimly lit passage to an oversized balcony that looks like a simple roofline from the ground.

“How’d you find this place?” you ask, leaning against the rail to enjoy the view of Alfred’s garden.

“I broke in, remember?”

You turn toward Terry, and your breath catches when you realize how close he is. Years after losing him, you’ve been given another opportunity. Fate took Terry from you, but, for some twisted reason, you’re standing face-to-face yet again. It is the last time, though you suppose there should be comfort in knowing.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

Terry sighs and leans closer, gripping the railing as he cages you in. “Bruce would say that it wasn’t really me.”

“What do you think?”

“That we’re the same across all the realities. We may be older, younger, more jaded, but deep down, we’re still the same.”

“If anything, you’re less jaded than the Terry I knew.”

He smiles and brushes his arm against yours. “It isn’t fair.”

“No,” you agree softly. “But it’s the way it is.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be?”

“We don’t get to decide, Terry.”

Terry pushes off the railing, running his hands through his hair as he turns away from you. “Then who does?!” he exclaims. “You stayed here, moved away from your time, so why is everyone here so sure that we can’t do it again?”

“Because your version of me could come back,” you try to explain.

“She won’t.”

“I escaped my reality, Terry, you never know if-“

“We buried you!” he interrupts, his chest heaving. “This is my only chance to get you back, and you’re telling me that I can’t have it.”

“Terry,” you call.

He shakes his head and continues pacing. Finally, you step in front of him and press your hands against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you begin. “I didn’t know. But we both know we can’t fight Bruce about this.”

Terry doesn’t reply. He watches you and continues breathing against your touch.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you before…”

Terry’s brows lift nearly imperceptibly. He notices your use of you. It sounds like you’ve stopped seeing him as a different Terry. The moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. Maybe not the exact girl he loved and never told, but still the same. You’re his and always will be, even if he has to leave you behind.

“I love you, Terry McGinnis,” you confess. “And I always will.”

Terry smiles, and his hands move to your waist. “We can’t fight Bruce about this,” he repeats.

“Good,” Bruce interrupts before you’re separated and blinded by a bright, white light.

A calloused palm brushes up and down your arm. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try to remember what it was like to stand with Terry, to tell him you loved him. There should be closure, but you only feel a growing pit of emptiness. Yet, the touch against your skin makes the heartbreak seem mendable.

“No, Ace, don’t lick her,” someone chides gently.

You open your eyes immediately, sitting up to find him. Terry’s hand moves from your arm to your shoulder, and he chuckles at your sudden movement.

“How’s your head?” he inquires. “Wayne didn’t think it through when he pushed us through a portal without knowing where it opened.”

“My head’s fine,” you assure him. “Why’d he do it?”

“Something about knowing that heartbreak makes it hard to be a good Batman.”

“Hi, Ace,” you greet as he presses his snout against your hip. “I missed you, buddy.”

“Good, you’re awake,” Bruce says as he enters the room. He tosses a bag onto the bed and says, “Your alternate-reality brothers sent that.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“I just carried the bag.”

Smiling, you say, “You know what I mean.”

Bruce nods once, then leaves you alone with Terry.

“You loved me in the other world,” Terry says. “I’ve lost two chances to say it.”

“You’re just mad I said it first.”

“That is so not kicks.”

You laugh because you're glad to be back with Terry and excited to be around people who understand your slang again.

“Well?” you ask, leaning closer to Terry. “Are you going to say it now?”

“McGinnis,” Bruce calls. “There’s a crew of Jokerz outside City Hall.”

Terry sighs and asks, “Do you think we’ll ever have another moment to ourselves?”

“Keep looking for hidden balconies,” you encourage. “And stay safe.”

“I’ll be back,” he promises.

You pet Ace as Terry leaves, but he rushes back into the room a moment later.

“Forgot something,” he says, leaning against the mattress to be closer to you. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you reply, smiling as you lay your hand over his.

Terry kisses your forehead and promises to return to you.

“You better,” you call after him.

“Hey, I’ve got a kiss to deliver,” he says from the doorway. “I’ll be here.”

You stand nearly an hour later, eager to get to the Batcave and help him as best as possible.

“I think you’re supposed to be in bed,” Batman chides, leaning against the Batcave entrance with his arms crossed.

“And you’re supposed to be back to give me something, I think,” you reply.

Ace barks at your side, and Terry pulls the cowl off his head. He drops it to the floor and takes two long steps to reach you. His gloved hands rise to your neck, and you hold his waist as you kiss Terry.

You both missed your first chance, but your worlds collided, and now you have Terry back. As you move with him, you know this is where you’re meant to be. You love Terry McGinnis in every world, but you belong beside him.

#terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis imagine #terry mcginnis fluff #terry mcginnis #batman beyond #batman beyond x reader #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#dc comics x reader #dc comics fic

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ancient-qveen · 13 days ago

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EMPEROR in Transylvanian Damnation issue no. 1, 1992

^ Emperor era Mortiis c. Nov 1992 bc I can't find the zine cover

Mortiis interviewed (transcription below)

[ancient-qveen: I linked this interview before but I wanted to make a dedicated post about it because its not that easy to find. Credit to AEon]

Emperor formed about Sept of ’91, with the following line-up: Steingrimm – guitar and vocal, Samot /Lord of Silence/ - guitar/ex-drums and Emperor Mortiis – bass /on the photo L to R/. They recorded the debut demo in May, on a 4-tracker. Euronymous offered them a record-deal, and a few months later Samot left the band to join BURZUM. Let’s see...

Well, you formed about one year ago and released a demo... How do you see this time, are you staisfied with your work?

Mortiis: Yeah! We are satisfied with our work. As for what we created during Oct-May, we are not really sounding so much like that any longer. As well as his lyrics are a lot more in depth of total Evil! Our music is still /of course/ blacker than bottomless lakes, and even more errie, depressive and deep! The lyrics for the demo was about Vampirism, Witchism, Black Magic etc. this is still our subject, but it’s all in one dark world. All the lyrics belong to teach other, and his lyrics always will. They are of a thousand years to come. Forgotten by time itself!

Did or do you play in other bands besides EMPEROR? And what about Samot, you know, strange to hear that he joins BURZUM, because as Grev said, his band is and will be only a one-piece band...

Mortiis: Yes, he did play in a couple band before. But they are nothing to talk about! Fuck them! Although for one of them the lyrics for “Forgotten Centuries” and “Moon over Karashehr” were written. But for luck never used. All those people, the lowlife human life form, deserve torture! He believes that the Samot/BURZUM thing is because the Count wanted BURZUM to be a live band! Something like that... Anyway, people should be aware that Samot is still in EMPEROR, and hopefully forever will be...

Let’s see your demo... How can you describe your music, and which bands helped to develop it?

Mortiis: Witching Black Metal! No bands helped us create that cursed demo. We are not saying that we are totally original at that time but now we are! Yeah!, but no bands really influenced us so much. Better ask Samot and Steingrimm this question instead! Probably that band that “develop” us must be VENOM, for creating Black Metal itself!

After the BURZUM, MAYHEM, and ABRUPTUM LPs Euro offered a record-deal to you, too. Which trax will be on it, and what do you think, when will you be able to release it?

Mortiis: The LP will come in the past darkness. We don’t know yet. We’ve got 4 songs mainly worked out, plus he and Ygg are working on two other one. There will be 10 trax all in all! Besides of two guitars, bass and drums /session, but we haven’t found any yet!. There will be constant synth, piano parts, female vocals, cello etc... The studio will be filled up with several instruments... It will be massive for sure! Some titled: “The Stargate”, “Emperor of a Dimension Unknown”, “Chronicles”..., “Reflections of Horizons Dark”, “In the October Frost”, “Gathering Ancient Wisdom /and a New Soul/”, and more!

Something has happened in North-Europe, especially in Norway. Just see, The BURZUM LPs, the second DARKTHRONE LP, and bands with great demos, like ENSLAVED or EMPEROR. Can we speak about a new Black Metal generation or reborn? How do you see the true scene in 2-3 years?

Mortiis: The true and evil Black Metal generation is born! In 2-3 years there will be alot less goodness around! Hopefully he will get to move out of his parents’ house and do some pain to humanity!

Let’s see your life... Do the members live together? Do you have time besides the band for your hobbies /if you have/? And what about the financial side, are you working or going to school?

Mortiis: He is not of this earth. It took him almost 17 years to realize the essence of his soul is not of earth! no, the members do not live together. Samot is at some place in cold Norway. Steingrim is living with his father and other times his mother. Mortiis /Him/ lives with his earthly “guardians” right now. We have no hobby. Our lifes are dark. Our band rehearses seldom these days. But we seem to be getting things together taking the situation into consideration! Both him and Ygg is still doing the school. So financially our lifes are not such interesting...

You inspired by the events of Adolf Hitler. What do you think, is Nazism still alive and will it rise again?

Mortiis: As for today’s Nazism, he doesn’t care about it. If some extreme violence is caused by them, it will be shown on TV. And he will get to see it eventually anyway... Those nazi leaders of today are probably intelligent and all that, but none of them could ever stand up to the genive status that Hitler had. He read a couple of books about Hitler about 2 years ago. And few people know that Hitler drove his sister’s daughter to suicide. And if it hadn’t been for some people who guarded him day and night, he would have killed himself, too. And then there wouldn’t have been any World War II. If the new Nazism rises or not it’s unimportant to him. At least, they are causing lots of pain and fear...

Sooner or later the world will have end... What do you prefer, a new and final World War or natural disasters?

Mortiis: They both sound tempting. Though a war would mean a modern day elimination.

#'steingrimm'#thank god he didnt stick w that #THE STARGATE MENTIONED #aww was ihsahn shared custody 😭#is mortiis speaking in third person im confused 😭#emperor #black metal #true norwegian black metal #emperor band #early 90s #1992 #mortiis #interview #zine #transylvanian damnation zine

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caw4brandon · 11 months ago

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The Power of Stop-Motion

Media in today's standard is quick and easy. Rarely is a show more than 2 hours long or 13-epiodes per-season. With that, animated movies are a lot slower than the typical films.

There is a discussion on if animation is suitable for film purposes and while it is often shunned by the Golden Globes or the Oscars or other awards. The very few outliers can prove these awards and the world very wrong.

But that is not what we will be talking about today. Because while animation is popular, there is a dark horse among its sphere. One with a rich history and strong filmography that should be shared. Let's talk about;

- Have I possibly gone daffy? -

Stop-motion is a film making style that compiles multiple still images of an object being physically manipulated in small movements into one whole scene.

Majority of Stop-motion films and videos use [Clay Animation] or [Paper Animation] with several more varieties of new innovations emerging under the umbrella of stop-motion. The most popular of them in the modern era towards kids is [Lego animation] which is the manipulation of Lego models in motion.

The earliest trace of Stop-motion in films is the 1898 short [The Humpty Dumpty Circus] by Albert E. Smith and James Stuart Blackton which is said to be a lost media. To compensate, please watch [A Tribute to Stop Motion]

In its early concept, Stop-motion was used as a method to create impossible things or do practical effects under budget constrains. Such as the iconic King Kong scene at the Empire State building. Since then, Stop-motion has evolved into a full production industry. From Indies; [Righteous Robot] to Juggernauts; [Laika Studios]

- Shimmer a Little at The Edges -

Unconventional media such as stop-motion is often not a style suited for every story. Its a rather expensive type of media that requires worthy innovations top break the niche barrier. Just looking at Laika Studios alone, we see that they've develop a lot of interesting ways to improve visual effects while staying to their stop-motion roots.

One perfect example is seen in < Kubo and the Two Strings > where the animators need to create water in a still image world that feels natural. [A Perfect Storm] one other part of the stop-motion puzzle is the iron-willed discipline it to conceptualize, animate and edit a production that can take about 3 to 5 years to complete. More so of a time frame than a normal film.

This difficult curve lead to budgeted methods such as using models that already exist to tell new stories. Such as; Legos or with crude multi-jointed figures of existing characters. [MOONSHINE]

While I may say its crude, the low budget production is the selling point. Assisted with sound bites taken from gaming sessions or from shows featuring a lot of inside jokes and memes. Also, its hilarious to see a Teletubby turned into a Eldritch monster.

These attempts to make stop-motion productions accessible has captured the attention of other like-minded channels to collaborate and elevate one another. [ERB: Harry Potter vs Luke Skywalker]

- For Better Tomorrows -

With all that is said, what is the power of stop-motion? As a media that is tediously overlapping across processes. What are the better tomorrows for our inanimate subjects?

I like to think, that as filmmaking grows. Stop-motion will continue to remain as a sacred tug against live action films and traditional animation. It can be used to tell complicated stories with concepts that may look strange if its adapted in a live action.

As I have mentioned in [The Beautiful World of Hilda] animation's greatest strength is simplification. Stop-motion takes the opposite side of that philosophy.

Its a higher level of world building of the materials with willingness to accept mistakes and ruggedness that gives them that little flavor of life. As an actual touchable thing, the various cartoonish styles can take on a whole new dimension to heighten the style and give it that detail that is less polished.

Stop-motion shows that filmmaking magic can still exist despite already knowing the tricks. Its a media where every frame shown has a significant purpose that invokes a specific flow. That's the power of stop-motion.

#stop motion #stop motion animation #coraline #coraline jones #lego animation #clay animation #paper animation #laika studios #paranorman #norman babcock #the lego movie #emirichu #daidus #moonshine animations #pinocchio #guillermo del toro #wendell and wild #Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio

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babyyhoneyyyyy · 10 months ago

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「✦ 🚨 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 🍷 ✦」 - One Shot [h.s]

Storyline: "Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer". Where Lizzie, a devoted homemaker, meets Harry, a police officer in charge of interrogating her after a mysterious fire at her mansion that resulted in the death of her husband. Word count: 4k+ Smut: 🔞 *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A call to 911 is usually more than enough in emergency situations.

Within minutes, the sound of sirens envelops you, with bright lights in red and blue hues cutting through the space as if they belong to it, receiving professional help from specialized teams while they try to talk to you and understand the situation. But after that, a sense of shock takes over, making you question whether what you're experiencing is part of a third-dimensional movie, distorting your own reality and transporting you to an alternate dimension for the most part.

That's exactly how Lizzie felt after flames consumed a large part of her property. She had sensed the smoke penetrating her nostrils, but what truly disturbed her was the buzz of screams. Cries from a man calling her name that quickly faded into whispers.

Lizzie found herself unable to react in any way other than trying to escape, seeking to reach him and see what was happening. However, the house seemed to be crumbling around her, and eventually, she fainted before reaching the door. That was the only clear memory she retained from that day; everything else started with a distant voice calling her, waking her up to find herself under a white ceiling and the scent of disinfectant.

Her stay in the hospital lasted just a day, more as a precautionary measure than for any injuries, of which, fortunately, she was free. She was in almost perfect condition, something that surprised even the doctors themselves.

But for that reason, when they confirmed her health, they chose to deliver the news to her without any euphemisms.

Contrary to her, her husband wasn't as fortunate. Apparently, the fire originated in his own studio, giving him no chance to escape and consuming him with the flames.

She had become a widow.

Her lawyer presented himself as her main support, assisting her in the necessary procedures to change her documents, update them, and allowing her to handle the move, the funeral, and subsequently, the burial.

Finally, when all that concluded, Lizzie was met with a sigh from her lawyer, who handed her a small envelope. She accepted it, while he observed her for a few more minutes before leaving his office.

A lump tightened Lizzie's throat; anxiety ran through her veins saturating all her senses as her hands trembled slightly when opening the envelope. And suddenly, everything around her seemed to freeze when she saw her name written alongside her original last name, followed by the phrase 'widow of Montecarlo,' and the text culminated with 'an entirety in inheritance'.

Lizzie closed her eyes for a moment. She knew the implications of that, beyond any property, money, jewelry, or cars, beyond any tangible thing she could conceive in her mind. This represented a new beginning, one she hadn't even imagined when she got married at the young age of eighteen.

She swallowed hard as she placed the envelope in the safe and let out a final sigh as she left the office, returning to her room. She walked through various rooms overflowing with classical décor.

Her heels echoed on the wooden floors, allowing their sound to reverberate through the rooms. The house was deserted; her lawyer had already left, and there was no trace of any household staff, as per her own request. She had decided to give them all a break, especially those who had also managed to escape unscathed from the fire in her previous property, which was already under renovation. She had determined that once it was ready, she would put it up for sale immediately. She couldn't bear the idea of walking through that house again.

The last door at the end of the hallway on the second floor housed her bedroom. It was a master bedroom that, at that moment, only contained her belongings still packed in suitcases, lacking any visible decoration.

However, as she approached, the sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house.

Lizzie halted her steps and instinctively checked the delicate diamond watch on her wrist. It was six in the evening, and she hadn't scheduled any visits.

She hesitated for a moment, considering whether to go back to the first floor just to attend to an unexpected visitor, but the doorbell rang again, possibly indicating the urgency of the person. With a sigh, she turned her body and descended the wide stairs leading to the entrance and, finally, to her door.

The doorbell rang once more just as her hand reached for the handle, and she couldn't help but display a slightly annoyed expression when she opened the door, finding a tall man standing in front of her, causing her to pause for a moment.

The individual in question had a distinctive presence, with a young face and well-defined features, and although his hair seemed short, it revealed some curls. However, what unquestionably caught Lizzie's attention the most was his uniform.

It was an official attire consisting of a white shirt, a bulletproof vest with letters marked on the chest, and to add even more, a prominent badge was situated above it.

Lizzie felt her heart start to beat faster and chose not to say anything until the man interpreted it as a signal to introduce himself.

Unlike her furrowed brow, the young man immediately responded with a small smile, revealing dimples on his face. He glanced down for a moment, and Lizzie noticed he held a small notebook in his hands. Then, a husky voice spoke, "Miss Elizabeth?" Lizzie simply nodded. "I'm Harry Styles, the police officer in charge of your case".

The moment these words were spoken, Lizzie felt time speed up. She quickly blinked as she nodded and stepped aside at the door, allowing the man, whom she now identified as Harry, to step onto her property.

When they entered the main room together, she led the way and settled into one of the armchairs, gesturing for the young man to do the same before the door closed behind them. Lizzie avoided looking down to ensure her ring remained on her ring finger. Instead, she kept her gaze forward, watching Harry's subtle movements closely as he settled into the luxurious sofa and casually glanced around.

"Would you like some water?" she suddenly asked, catching him completely off guard. Although she didn't even know where that question came from, realizing that there wouldn't be another offer due to the absence of staff in the house, she thought it would be a kind gesture before they began.

"No, thank you". He finally responded after a moment's thought, grateful but with a half-smile, declining the offer. He had received strict instructions from his boss not to get distracted from his task. This was his first field mission, so he preferred not to mess it up.

"Cookies?"

Once again, his answer was negative, feeling increasingly embarrassed as he saw the woman's expression, who nodded gently and pouted slightly as she resigned herself back to the sofa.

Harry couldn't help but smile, clearing his throat before returning his gaze to the small notebook in his hands.

"Okay, I think we can start now".

The inquiries about that night varied in their formulation, from questions like "What were you doing when you heard the noise?" to "Were you nearby when you noticed the house was on fire?". Each one required an answer that related to and understood the situation.

Lizzie sensed that this was an interrogation aimed at connecting the loose ends, in case they found any evidence against her, so she made an effort to recall the events of that night accurately, inevitably reliving them.

At least an additional hour passed, she noted once again the clock on her wrist, confirming that more time had elapsed and that now only the dim artificial light of the living room illuminated the space. This incident was due to a malfunction, as she hadn't visited this house in many years and it was evident that there were still pending repairs. Despite this, she decided not to mention it to the policeman, preferring him to bring it up or simply ignore it. However, as the conversation became more casual, he didn't mention it.

The questions about the incident of that night gradually faded away, giving way to lighter questions, and it was only then that Lizzie decided to join him.

"Do you have a girl?" The question hung in the air as Harry observed her intently. Lizzie noticed how he ran his tongue over his lips, trying to alleviate the dryness of the conversation, ending with a soft bite on his lower lip before responding.

"No- Uh-" he paused, clearing his throat before continuing. "I've always been very focused on my work, thanks to my parents, so no, I really wouldn't have the time", he expressed, although a slight gesture of frustration crossed his lips before he continued speaking. "I mean, if I were truly interested in someone, I would find the time, but for now, there's no one". He concluded his explanation with a light sigh.

Harry awaited with some tension, anticipating a sarcastic response from Lizzie, considering the twists and turns he had taken to reach his explanation, however, instead of that, he saw her nod with a understanding expression on her face. A comforting relief washed over Harry in that moment, as if Lizzie's silent confirmation somehow validated his words and nerves.

Why did he suddenly feel so nervous?

"May I know the reason for the question?" he inquired after a few moments, waiting for a brief explanation of the young woman's interest, although in reality he showed more curiosity about her response. Harry watched as Lizzie's dark eyes settled on his face once again, subtly descending to his hands, still intertwined in his lap as he leaned slightly towards her. His heart began to beat quickly again as he followed her gaze.

"I don't see a ring on your finger". Lizzie responded with a slight shrug, initially downplaying the question, something that Harry found indecipherable whether he liked it or not.

"Aren't you too young to have been married?" he suddenly asked, on impulse as he tried to delve into the topic, although he almost immediately regretted the inopportune nature of his question.

Although the intention was good, the question came off as bold, especially given the situation he knew the woman was in. Harry lowered his gaze, feeling a lump in his throat as silence lingered, trying to find a quick way to change the subject.

Lizzy, on the contrary, continued to watch him, aware that the real question was implicit: «Aren't you too young to be a widow?» Still, she decided to answer: "Yes, I am".

"Excuse my boldness". Were the words she received barely after her response. Lizzie hesitated for a moment whether those apologies were genuine, for if they were, he wouldn't have waited for her response. However, this didn't bother her; rather, she found it entertaining..

"Don't worry", she replied with a nod of her head, maintaining a hidden smile as she looked down for a moment. "It's not the first time I've heard that".

Harry fell silent as he watched the woman rise from her seat, feeling his heart beat hard, fearing being expelled from the house for his audacity. However, he began to relax as he saw the young woman head towards a corner of the room, a little away from him, where a wide collection of bottles rested on a shelf. Her hand rested on one of them, dissipating the tension in the air.

"Would you like some?" Lizzie asked Harry, gently lifting a glass of whiskey. Harry was forced to swallow before answering: "I can't". He admitted sincerely.

Lizzie simply nodded and returned to her glass, taking another sip before sitting in front of him on the sofa. All while Harry watched her attentively.

"I understand", she replied after another sip. "I just wanted you to know that you're passing up the best whiskey in the country". Harry's smile was the response Lizzie was hoping for to continue. "But if that's not an option for you and that's why you're not having it, the offer of cookies still stands".

Harry's eyes repeatedly slid over Lizzie's face. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that drove him to keep looking at her. Perhaps it was her apparent youth, her glow despite her recent husband's death, or the feeling of prohibition by remaining in her house after the interrogation had concluded.

However, the time that had passed was enough for him to regret his decision.

"In fact, I'll accept the offer this time". He announced.

And for the first time that night, he noticed a similarity between her and himself: a dimple that appeared on her cheek when she smiled.

"Perfect".

For at least a quarter of an hour, time passed. Harry found distraction in admiring the architecture and luxury while Lizzie busied herself in the kitchen. In the distance, Harry caught the sweet aroma of the cookies, awakening his appetite as he waited eagerly. Finally, he saw Lizzie approach with a tray, possibly silver, and place it on the central table of the living room. It was then that he realized there was not only food, but also liquids.

In his eagerness to discover, Harry neglected the cookies as his hand quickly reached for the glass of white liquid next to the main plate. He contemplated the liquid for a moment, feeling its warmth on his fingers before perceiving a soft voice rising beside him, at the same time that the sofa slightly gave way under his weight.

"I refrained from adding alcohol. There's only milk", he heard her laugh as he held the glass between his hands, not daring to look to the side. "You can try it to confirm".

Harry closed his eyes briefly, letting the voice fill his senses.

From the moment she entered the house, he had ignored the sweet scent of her perfume. He avoided looking at her bare legs when she crossed them during the conversation. He even refrained from looking at her for too long while she spoke.

However, he ended up doing exactly the opposite. At this point, he had engraved in his memory the smell of her perfume and constantly wondered how significant it would be. He had memorized her posture, and instead of using his notebook, he kept himself busy by observing her intently.

"Everyone knows that I'm a good girl, officer".

His eyes suddenly opened.

His attention was inevitably drawn to her once more, finding her finally by his side, watching him intently. Time seemed to stand still around them. Harry couldn't discern with certainty what was driving him to act, whether it was simply Lizzie's close presence or the use of the expression "good girl", yet something inside him was beginning to flood him with a comforting sensation, making him feel warm and filled with a desperate longing to get closer to her.

Harry quickly turned, averting his gaze from Lizzie, and refocused his attention on the glass of milk and the cookies still on the tray. Suddenly his craving for food vanished, and he preferred to take a sip of the milk, savoring its sweetness, although it didn't quench his thirst. It wasn't until he had almost finished his drink that he mustered up the courage to face the somber gaze of the woman beside him again.

Harry had faced the feeling of intimidation on various occasions, especially in front of authority figures older than him, with serious countenances. However, this time was different. Sitting next to her, with her large eyes fixed on him, he experienced a strange sense of intimidation, although he couldn't understand why, but instead of rejecting it, he felt a growing curiosity that propelled his body forward.

Unconsciously, he found himself moving closer to her with a subtle motion, with his lips parted and close enough to brush against her face, and at the moment he thought he was about to break the tension, he found himself enveloped in a void.

His confusion was reflected in the widening of his eyes, which blinked a couple of times before returning to the front, where he found Lizzie standing in front of him. His gaze immediately fell, and he moistened his lips, preparing to speak, perhaps to apologize for feeling her distance as discomfort, but before he could say anything, he felt nails digging into his cheeks, lifting his face.

Harry tried to move forward, stretching his arms for more, although he was immediately stopped. His cheeks were released, while his hands were held back.

Quickly, Lizzie had taken the handcuffs that were still on his belt while he became aware of his now more extended position in space, with his legs spread apart, leaving room for her to position herself. Before Harry could understand what was happening, his wrists were trapped in the handcuffs, leaving him restrained in the armchair.

He tried to glance back, but the hands grabbed his cheeks once again, although with more force, ensuring visible marks were left. Forced to keep his focus on her, he could clearly distinguish her: her brown eyes, once bright from the room's light, now seemed darker, fixed on him as she sat on his lap, generating a warmth that consumed him.

He needed to be released. And not just from the handcuffs.

Then time began to pass quickly, just like the palpitations of his heart. His lips parted, seeking to catch his breath, but found only agitation, while small moans escaped from his throat at the wet kisses that left marks on his neck.

He wanted more.

He felt his shirt slipping off his body, feeling a slight coolness on his chest, soon replaced by the warmth of the kisses he received. A hand joined the game, caressing him as he tried to lower the fabric as much as possible, frustrated by the handcuffs that prevented his complete release.

He wanted more.

The hand descended, quickly unbuttoning his pants as he rose on the armchair, holding his weight and that of the woman on him. Both rose enough to pull down his pants to his calves, until he could push himself to remove his shoes and pants with the help of his feet.

But still, he wanted more.

He was beginning to experience a growing desperation as time passed. The palpitations in his chest kept him on edge, rising and falling just enough to provoke sighs, but just when they seemed to be heading where he needed them most, they rose again.

The moans filled the room as Harry began to move more forcefully, trying to seek something more than just a simple rubbing between his underwear and Lizzie's skirt. At first, he thought maybe she would feel sorry for seeing him like that, but seeing her eyes turn back to him without compassion, he realized he was wrong.

His breath caught when he saw Lizzie slowly unbuttoning her blouse, with agonizing slowness. Even when he prepared for his work as a policeman, he had not experienced such painful exercises as seeing her with her naked tits brushing his face, and not being able to feel them.

"I saw you very thirsty", she whispered, her voice resonating in a softer tone than usual, awakening in Harry a sensitivity he could barely recognize at that moment. "Do you still want milk?"

His eyes brightened at the question, his head nodding before he could articulate a response; that was all Lizzie needed to pick up the half-finished glass of milk and pour it unhesitatingly over her breasts.

Harry paused for a moment, watching the white liquid carelessly spilling over the woman's nipples, seeing how the drops gradually disappeared over the edge of her skirt. He let out a barely audible sigh, unable to contain it, and then shifted his gaze to Lizzie, who looked at him with a mischievous smile, as if she had made a small oversight, although Harry received it with gratitude. He felt so grateful that, if necessary, he would have fallen to his knees to express his gratitude right at that moment.

"Oh, shit".

Lizzie let out a sigh of relief as she held Harry's hair, who finally decided to approach and take one of her breasts in his mouth. She could feel his tongue gently swirling around her nipple, alternating between delicate movements and firmer suctions.

Instinctively, her hands slid over his body, caressing his skin until they reached the edge of her skirt, which was already starting to feel too warm. She sensed Harry's lips slightly parting from her, which prompted her to immediately open her eyes to look at him.

She was met with his angelic face, with green eyes expanding towards her from below, his curly and disheveled hair, his moist face, and his lips with traces of white liquid at the corners. It was an image that was etched in her memory and urged her to act with greater urgency.

She took a deep breath before separating slightly from him, hearing a complaint starting to form on his lips before he fell silent upon realizing that Lizzie's skirt, along with her underwear, was disappearing. Despite feeling close, she had to take a few steps forward to return to Harry's lap, all while he watched her with his dark eyes, showing submission but pretending to hide something more. Lizzie wondered what it could be, but she didn't give it much importance as she returned to her position, feeling his cock more comfortably beneath her, although still covered by his underwear, brushing against her now naked cunt.

No more than a second passed before she refocused on her own pleasure, starting to move in circles around him again, while moans filled the room once more, both hers and Harry's, who, through his sounds, begged for mercy.

The rhythm intensified, leading Lizzie to abandon the circular movements and start with pelvic movements back and forth. Her excitement fluids facilitated the sliding over the cotton fabric of his underwear, allowing her to perceive more than she had imagined.

Contrary to his own satisfaction, Harry couldn't bear it anymore. A mix of excitement, desperation, discomfort, and anger invaded him as he couldn't feel completely satisfied. Although he had obeyed Lizzie's words, seeing her rubbing herself on him without really feeling her touch deeply frustrated him. He found no other way out than to start pushing forcefully, making the woman's body move sharply on top of him, causing her to open her eyes once more.

"Please", he managed to articulate, while his hips moved slightly.

Lizzie watched him for a few additional seconds before a mocking smile appeared on her face.

"Are you that needy for my pussy?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, he felt three fingers invading his mouth, silencing him immediately as he sucked and moistened them. Then, as if his prayers had been heard, he felt Lizzie moving slightly away from his lap. He saw her kneel in front of him, taking off his underwear and exposing his erect member.

A sigh escaped his lips as the fingers, soaked with his own saliva and pre-cum, caressed his glans and began to masturbate him with the palm of her hand.

"Fuck me".

His voice emerged without hesitation, rough from the dryness in his tongue and throat, yet irresistibly enticing for Lizzie; eager for Harry.

"Is that an order?" she asked, teasingly. "What do you plan to do if I don't? After all, those handcuffs are in your hands, not mine". The massage on his cock became more vigorous, causing jolts from the fires he felt under her hand.

"Let's try again, officer", she suddenly mentioned, making his eyes close for a moment. His profession hadn't even crossed his mind until that moment, but the prohibition of the moment wasn't what affected him the most, but a fire that resurged within him, rising from his lower part to his chest, filling him with excitement as he heard her.

"Shit- Please, please fuck me".

A fleeting smile appeared on Lizzie's face and quickly disappeared as she sat in the place she had desired so much but from which she had refrained, not suppressing the moan that escaped once she achieved it.

She was about to start more energetic circular movements, finding something to hold on to this time, but her actions were overshadowed by those of the man beneath her, who had taken the lead, pounding forcefully and swiftly, making her sigh softly as she allowed herself to be enveloped by the pleasurable sensation.

Then she realized that Harry's urgency was expressing itself in that way, and she let herself go, allowing him to take the lead even when his hands remained restrained.

Lizzie was forced to hold onto the couch when she found that simply leaning on Harry's shoulders was not enough to withstand the onslaught she felt inside her. Her eyes involuntarily closed, unable to keep her gaze on him for long, while her lips parted in search of air. She only found relief when Harry's tongue joined hers on her neck, leaving the same careless kisses she had given him at the beginning, but this time he decided to intensify the sensations with suctions. Lizzie had no doubt that the marks would remain there for at least a week due to the force with which he made them.

"God- You fuck me so good", she exclaimed, accompanying her groan with a whisper that made Harry open his eyes, becoming hypnotized by the sight of Lizzie's tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. He bit his lower lip to contain his own impending moan.

"I'm so close- Oh fuck! Fuck-". Lizzie's own moans intertwined, becoming more intense, filling the room with their sound, resonating even throughout the house.

Harry sharply inhaled air between his teeth, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes tightly, feeling the electric current running through his body, although he had been avoiding that moment, wanting first to observe Lizzie's reaction, wanting to absorb it completely.

"Look at me", Lizzie's voice pulled him out of his reverie, as she took his chin and forced their gazes to meet once more. "Come on, be good and let me feel you pulsating as you fill me with cum".

Harry struggled to keep his eyes open as he did his best to maintain his gaze on hers, intensifying his rhythm as much as he could, seeing her mouth open as she brought her face closer to his, brushing their lips.

"Harry!- Fuck".

Then climax came for both simultaneously, with their foreheads united and sweat sliding down them. Harry felt Lizzie's cunt walls squeezing his cock, which throbbed inside her, while she experienced a sensation of fullness and warmth, an excitement that ran through her whole body and left her trembling as she moaned softly.

As the minutes passed, their breaths calmed down. Although the atmosphere was still imbued with heat and disorder, Harry finally felt liberated, despite still having his hands handcuffed.

The large clock struck three in the morning when they woke up without realizing how long they had remained in that position. Lizzie noticed the weight on her eyelids, indicating the need for rest, but she was forced to separate from Harry when she felt the burning sensation in her thighs, and the first thing she saw when she got up was the slight smile on Harry's face.

"I don't know if you've had experience as a criminal before, but you look very comfortable with those handcuffs".

The comment only made Harry's smile widen before he opened his eyes and replied: "I can't feel my wrists".

Immediately after, Harry watched as the dimple on Lizzie's face reappeared, but this time accompanied by a genuine laugh.

After he revealed the location of the key that would unlock the handcuffs and she finally managed to free him, she walked to one of the utility rooms in search of a blanket, still naked and feeling the cold air brushing against her skin.

Lizzie focused on her destination, avoiding looking elsewhere, entered the room, took the blanket, and walked out without looking back, ignoring the shadow she had perceived slipping down the hallway.

Once they settled on the sofa in the living room, she watched as Harry's hand reached for the silver tray that had remained on the central table, and he took one of the cookies she had prepared. At that moment, Lizzie suspected that perhaps that action had caused her perplexity upon learning of Richard's death.

Because it hadn't fit with her plans.

The chocolate cookies had awaited on her bedside table in the previous room, expecting her husband's first bite upon returning from the office after a long day of work.

That would have been the culmination, the beginning of something new.

So she understood that this episode marked the real beginning, perhaps the prelude to a dangerous game she was willing to embark on once again. From scratch.

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justanamesstuff · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 1

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Hiii guys, I'm so nervous for this BUT very excited too!! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: swearing a bit?, typos maybe.

Word count: 3 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

Every season has its colours, has its smells, has its traditions. Like every season, this love has its particularities…

Around November of 2020, England

“Matty- Oh my god!!“

The constant banging on her wall and the high-pitched moaning at the other side woke Y/n up. Quickly, she took her pillow and placed it on top of her face, trying to muffle the horrible sounds reaching her ears. ‘God, is she having a good time? Or he’s killing her?’, the thought crossed the girl's mind.

Most of the time they weren’t that loud, but during that morning they just seemed to not care.

It was useless, the sounds were getting louder and louder. Y/n couldn’t bear with it any more and knowing that even if they –luckily– stopped she wouldn’t come back to sleep. So, Y/n decided to go downstairs. Maybe one of the guys was making breakfast, which would help with the awful start of her day.

Her prayers weren’t heard. The kitchen was empty and no breakfast was made. She tried to cheer up a little, because Y/n needed to survive the day. To be honest, every day and morning it was getting harder and harder.

After a quiet but long sigh, Y/n started cooking for everyone. Nothing unusual since she tried to do it most of the mornings in exchange for their generosity letting her stay at the boys' studio –which was half Matty’s house as well. Spending the quarantine rent-free with them, listening how they recorded the new album and messing around was a true blessing if she tried to focus on the bright side of everything.

Well, they kind of forced her because they were very against Y/n spending those months alone in her flat. The boys cared about the girl as a best friend and as a sister too. They were a bunch of drama queens most of the time, but deep down Y/n was enormously grateful with/for them.

Thinking about the first months, Y/n couldn’t deny those were amazing. The entire group spent a lot of quality time, doing the stupidest challenges, doing Instagram lives for the fans, watching a lot of movies, etc. Although everything took a turn when another person joined the party. When Nadia arrived.

It wasn’t like Y/n hated her, in fact, it was the opposite which created a big dilemma for her. Matty’s girlfriend was nice and the idea of having another girl was actually comforting during the tough times. But Y/n wasn’t so fond of the situation for other reasons.

For a period –a very long one– if you asked her, she endured with it and put on her best –fake– happy face. Y/n’s acting talents were very handy at times. Although, her true feelings were still there, underneath the surface, where no one can notice them. Specially Matty.

Time went by and the whole thing was making her more anxious, and although the idea of leaving crippled into her mind at every minute, she couldn’t really decide. Y/n didn’t want to leave but watching Matty 24/7 attached to the other girl’s side was taking the best of her mental health.

Y/n’s mind was running fast with thoughts while she cooked, which made her subconsciously ignore the tall man coming down after he heard movement downstairs. George watched his friend move around, knowing more than anyone in the house about her sorrows. George was probably the closest to her out of the four guys. He was the only one who knew all of her secrets and kept it secured as if it was his own.

The drummer stared at her, expecting for Y/n to notice him, but he acknowledged that the girl was in another dimension. She used to do that more than she liked to admit. George could bet ‘the morning moaning festival’ taking place half an hour prior was the main reason.

Y/n finished cooking a big amount of scrambled eggs and turned searching for a plate when she saw George standing in the partially lighted corridor. “Fuck G! You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed while resting a hand on her chest.

“Sorry!” the big man shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” he apologized, approaching his best friend. “Good morning.” he greeted her properly, and she huffed.

“Good morning to you.” Y/n answered sarcastically after G placed a kiss on top of her head.

“So, you heard, huh?”

“I can’t stand it any more, G.” she let him know. “It’s just a lot.” she continued, lowering her voice scared another of the boys could hear her.

“I know, love.” the drummer said with an apologetic expression. “But the lockdown is nearly over, and y’know none of us would like you to go.” G said as he searched for mugs.

“Why not? It’s my life, my freedom!” Y/n protested, starting to get annoyed. “It’s getting worse every day…” Y/n desperately moved her hands in the air trying to prove her point.

“Believe me… I know!” George searched for her eyes, keeping eye contact when Y/n looked back at him, waiting for his next words. “I’m not in your…situation, but I’m getting a little annoyed too.” G agreed with her.

“Yes, but it’s his house. He can do whatever he wants…”

“I half agree.” G nodded. “This might be his house, but it’s the place we choose as a studio, so for the time being its our place too…yours too!” George continued rambling, filling the mugs with hot water. “So, they need to stop with the noises.”

A comfortable silence fell between them until Y/n broke it again thinking out loud.

“What the hell can I do?”

“About what?” A third voice came from the hallway. Matty made his entrance wearing a tired expression matching his gray sweatpants and plain shirt. He approached Y/n, leaving her a kiss on her right cheek. “What can you do about what, love?” he rephrased his question.

“I- It’s nothing — Morning” she said without looking at him, instead walking towards the table bringing a mug with her.

“There must be something. You sounded worried.” Matty insisted.

“It’s something between Y/n and I, mate.” George said in a joking way, trying to distract him. “Something between best pals, you wouldn’t understand it.” he stated, rounding Y/n with his left arm meanwhile he winked at Matty taking a sip of his morning tea.

“Fuck off!” Matty protested. They usually have a competition about the title which Y/n find equally lame and cute. She easily felt the tension leaving her shoulders, relaxing thanks to their stupid discussion, knowing that for now Matty dropped his interrogation.

“Tell him, darling!” G urged her.

“It’s too early for this fight. Shut up and sit. I’ll bring the cutlery.” Y/n said, detaching herself from George.

“Y/n is just too nice to tell ya, mate. She loves me more.” the singer continued joking, obviously unaware of the real implication of his words.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Matty.” George answered, sitting at his usual spot at the table.

“Who was the beautiful soul that made breakfast?” Ross entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and inhaling dramatically.

“You know the answer.” John teased as he appeared from behind Ross. “You know you don’t have to, Y/n.” the musician approached her and helped with the forks and knives.

“Yes, for the hundred times…I know, John.” she looked at him. “But we all know that I would feel guilty since you all never let me pay for anything.”

“Because you don’t have to pay us, love.” Matty said from his place at the table with his sight fixed on his phone. He and the damn nicknames.

“But- “

“No but’s, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here!” Ross said as they all sat around the table.

They were serving breakfast when the conversation took another direction -something about the coronavirus and all of that. At the same time, the last resident of the house made her entrance.

Y/n sometimes envied her. Matty’s girlfriend always looked immaculate to a point that you could never think she just woke up. Y/n knew comparisons were wrong, but it was hard to avoid them. The girl felt awful: her hair was all tangled in a messy bun on the top of her head; only wearing an old t-shirt -from a not so famous band--and a pair of pyjamas short; and she was not wearing any makeup meanwhile she stuffed her breakfast on her face.

Nadia was all classy and perfect, the opposite of Y/n. Maybe that’s why he chose her and not his best friend. Y/n knew thinking like that was also wrong, yet again she couldn’t help it.

Y/n witnessed how Nadia greeted everyone and sat beside Matty, flashing him a cute smile he returned. They were in love, and it was obvious to everyone. Y/n was so happy for her best friend to find someone who loved him, although for many years she hoped that person would be her. For years, Y/n hoped Matty noticed her more than a mate.

When they first met, Y/n thought she felt a connection different from with anyone else in her life, although that changed quickly. Matty proved to her time and time again he didn’t want a relationship with her or nothing similar no matter how flirty he was during that first night. And Y/n forced herself her mind and heart to believe it.

Y/n was very unaware that, at the time she met the boys, Matty felt the same way she felt, but the old Matty didn’t want to lose the new friend he encountered. As another way to self sabotage himself, the young Matty did almost the impossible to show Y/n they were friends and just friends. A decision he took while being drunk became a life rule.

Since that moment, since that night, their relationship was kind of determinate. They were friends, the best friends. Not that night, but after a while, Y/n became part of the family and even Matty’s family –both sides– loved her as another member of their family. Y/n felt safe and loved, something she cherished so much since she hadn’t had that kind of love back home. Her family wasn’t like them, the opposite in fact.

For the longest time, Y/n tried to ditch her feeling for Matty. Every time a new girl showed up, tugged under his arm, Y/n decided it was the time to stop getting hurt and move on. Even though, her heart couldn’t do it. It hurt her. And with Nadia was the hardest since all of them could notice it was different, more mature…more serious. Nadia was more than a random girl for Matty and everyone was sure of that.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Matty interrupted Y/n’s inner monologue, staring at her, while his right arm was around Nadia.

“What?” Y/n answered, coming down to earth, with a question.

“You were gone.” everyone was strangely in silence while they looked at each other.

“I was just thinking about the government lifting the restrictions. Meaning, now I can go home.” she half lied, while messing with the leftovers of her breakfast. Y/n did chat about it with G that morning anyway, and it was a reality Y/n needed to get away from the lovers for a time.

“I told her, none of us want that.” George interrupted their conversation.

“Of course not.” Jaime, who joined the breakfast table, said to her.

“I know, guys. But it’s been almost four months and I- This is not my- “

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Matty warned her, and she looked him directly in the eyes.

“It’s the truth, Matty.” she said, dropping her fork on the plate.

“It’s not, this is your house too, Y/n/n.” Ross, sweet Ross, reminded her. “At the same time, if you want to go back to your flat, I understand. We’ll miss your meals.” his comment made everyone chucked, except Matty who was studying every one of her movements.

A weak smile was plastered on her face while she stared down towards her plate unable to make eye contact with Matty. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being here with you guys, but I need my space.”

“If this is about some couple…” Jaime looked at Matty and Nadia “Waking up the whole house.” he finished the sentenced winking like a cartoon.

“For fuck's sake.” Matty swore under his breath. “Is it about that?” he looked at Y/n.

“‘Course not!” she looked at him trying her hardest to hide her feelings.

“I wouldn’t blame you if that’s the reason. I’m sleeping on the other side of the house and I can listen to them. You’re right beside Matty’s room!” John emphatically said.

Before Matty could say a word, Y/n exclaimed, “It’s not about that, okay?” she simply lied.

Y/n could sense George staring at her. “It’s what I said, I need my space, and it’s not like I’m going to disappear.” another white lie. Y/n was planning to do exactly that for a while until her wounds healed again. “You’ll still have to bear with me.” she finished her little speech.

“We can simply send the couple to your flat, and you can stay here in peace” Ross joked this time. All of them except for Matty laughed again.

“Stop with that, he will get angry.” Y/n defended Matty.

“I know it’s not my house either,” Nadia started saying. “If I can say something, I would like you to stay, Y/n.” she continued rather shyly. “It’s nice to have a girl around.” Of course, she was so nice. “I promised we’ll keep it down.” she looked quickly at Matty for reassurance and then again at her.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you’ll have to survive with these boys, but I really need to go.” Y/n explained. “Another reason is the fact that I have to prepare to get back to work soon.”

“So, when did you start thinking about leaving? Since you apparently have a lot of reasons to leave.” Matty said with a strange expression on his face.

“Matty-”

“Are you that eager to leave?” ‘He was pissed?’, Y/n thought.

“Matty- “she protested, not knowing what else to say.

“No, it’s okay. I get it! You want to leave, it’s okay.” he stood up from his seat gathering the plates to wash them.

“Matty!” Y/n said again.

“It’s fine, Y/n!” he said more sternly, obviously not fine with the situation.

The rest of the group –included Nadia–, took that as a cue to leave the friends so they could talk. They made stupid excuses, leaving Matty and Y/n alone in the kitchen.

Matty went to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. After letting a big breath out, Y/n stood up approaching where he was standing.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked him, folding her arms, standing beside Matty looking at his profile. Matty was stroking the plates with more force than needed for the task in hand.

“I’m not. I said that I got it, and it’s fine.” he answered.

“You’re obviously not fine, Matthew.”

“Do you want to know how am I? Perfect.” he stated, turning the water off and drying his hand with a cloth while he turned to look at her. “I really don’t get it why you want to leave so suddenly.”

“It’s not that I want to- “another big lie. She wanted to, she needed to.

“Bullshit!”

Y/n tried to defend herself, “I’m not going to disappear…”

“Bullshit!”

“Can you stop that?” Y/n stood directly in front of Matty.

“I know you’re going to disappear. I know you. We’re best friends and something is bothering you, I can tell. It hurts that you’re not telling me anything and I fucking bet you told George already.” She couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Is this more about that competition?” Y/n tried to distract him.

“Yes- No- Of course, not- This is about you and me.” Matty said, melting her heart a little. He was obviously troubled with the idea of Y/n leaving.

“Matty, there is nothing…mayor going on. Trust me. I need silence. You said it, you know me. I crave my space…alone.” she told him sweeter this time.

“Yes, I know. But you can find somewhere here-“

“You know that’s a lie.” ‘What a hypocrite I am’, Y/n thought.

“I know.”

“You aren’t gonna miss me. You have the boy and Nadia- “she moved uncomfortably in her place.

“It’s not the same, you’re my best friend. I’ll miss you, darling.” Matty looked at her with his best doggy eyes.

“Don’t!” Y/n pointed a finger at him.

“What?” he played dumb.

“Don’t give me puppy eyes, it won’t work.” she smiled this time.

“Shit, are you so certain about it?” he looked down, defeated.

“Yes.” Y/n simply said.

“Okay, I understand. You can go.”

“Thanks for your permission that I didn’t ask for.” Y/n tried to joke.

“But- “ he ignored her.

“But?”

“But promise me that you are not going to disappear for too long.” he said, staring directly into her eyes.

“I promise.” Y/n said way too quickly. After a couple of seconds, she had to look elsewhere.

“Can we hug?” he said very slowly.

Y/n chuckled, placing her arms around his shoulders, at the same time Matty placed his on her waist.

“I love you.” Matty mumbled on her left shoulder.

“I love you too, Matty.” Y/n said, feeling it from the deepest of her heart. There lied the difference.

Maybe, she couldn’t love anyone like she loved Matty, even though she had to try for the good of their relationship.

-------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @hollybrislen

#matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty the 1975 #matty x you #matty x y/n #matty fanfic #friends to lovers #matty healy #the 1975 #Seasons #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction

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jimnocturnalsblog · 29 days ago

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Macca on Abbey Road

To many people Paul McCartney is simply Paul McCartney. The Beatle, the songwriter, the legend, the ultra famous and mega-succesful musician who helped define a whole era. In the world of bassists he rarely gets the credit he deserves amongst the usual picks like Jaco Pastorius, Victor Wooten, etc. But for me he's right up there, one of my biggest influences and inspirations. Especially on the Beatles last studio album, Abbey Road.

He plays on that album with a confidence and freedom he hadn't shown before, kind of reflecting the fact that this was going to be The Beatles' last adventure and he was determined to relax and enjoy himself. His bass is pretty much the lead instrument across the whole album, to the point that he almost needlessly overshadows everything else on George Harrison's 'Something' - the song itself is strong enough to stand up to it, fortunately. But everywhere else his bass melodies, inventiveness, playful exploring and that glorious Rickenbacker-and-flatwound-strings old school sound give everything an extra dimension. One of my favourite bass performances on any record.

#the beatles #paul mccartney #bass #abbey road #beatles #music talk

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am-reggae · 1 year ago

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Sound Dimension – Soulful Strut / Time Is Tight // Sello: Soul Jazz Records – SJR 383-7 // 7" Vinilo / UK // ================= A - Sound Dimension – Soulful Strut // AA - Sound Dimension – Time Is Tight // ======= Nuevo / No está precintado ===== 15€ =====

#sound dimension #45 #7"#reggae #early reggae #Soul Jazz #studio one

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adrealucia · 7 months ago

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enemies to lovers with sean? 🫶🫶

I am going to be really honest this was fucking hard. I love enemies to lovers but it is so difficult to really bring out the tension in a short drabble like this. But still thank you so so much for the req and I hope you like what I did here :)

Canvas of Conflicts

The sun hung low over the Seattle skyline, casting long shadows through the windows of the art department at Blackwell University. Sean Diaz stood in front of a large canvas, his hands stained with a mix of acrylics. He was deep in his zone, creating a piece that blended surrealism with street art—a signature of his evolving style.

Across the room, you sat hunched over your laptop, typing furiously. Your focus was on an in-depth analysis of Baroque art for your Art History presentation. The sharp clacking of keys was the only sound that could rival the scratch of Sean's brush on the canvas.

The class was a melting pot of creative minds, and your professor often encouraged debates. But when it came to you and Sean, these debates often turned into heated arguments.

“Diaz, you can't just slap some paint on a canvas and call it art,” you snapped, glancing up from your screen. “There's no substance, no historical context!”

Sean paused, turning to face you with a smirk. “And you can't just analyze art to death, Y/N. Sometimes it's about feeling, not just thinking.”

The tension between you two was palpable, sparking almost every class. It wasn't just a clash of specializations—it was personal. You both carried an undercurrent of competition that bled into every interaction, whether it was a classroom debate or a chance encounter at a campus party.

One evening, the head of the department, Professor Henderson, called both of you into her office. Her stern expression was enough to make you both fall silent.

“I’m assigning you two to work together on the upcoming art exhibition,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Your task is to combine your skills—Sean’s fine art and Y/N’s historical analysis—to create a cohesive presentation. I expect nothing less than excellence.”

The news hit like a bombshell. As you exited her office, you and Sean exchanged a look of mutual disbelief and dread.

“Great,” Sean muttered sarcastically. “Just what I needed.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

The next few days were filled with awkward meetings and forced politeness as you brainstormed ideas. It was clear neither of you were thrilled about the partnership. However, as the deadline loomed, the gravity of the task began to sink in.

One late night in the studio, surrounded by sketches and notes, a breakthrough finally came. Sean was experimenting with a new technique, layering colors in a way that seemed chaotic yet intentional. You watched, intrigued despite yourself.

“Try using a bit of chiaroscuro,” you suggested cautiously, stepping closer. “It might help highlight the depth.”

To your surprise, Sean didn’t snap back. Instead, he nodded, adding a darker hue to the canvas. The effect was immediate, adding a new dimension to his work.

“Not bad, Y/N,” he admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You smiled slightly, feeling the ice between you begin to thaw. “Thanks. And I have to admit, your work has a certain raw energy that’s hard to ignore.”

As nights turned into early mornings, the studio became a place of shared ideas and mutual respect. You found yourself laughing at Sean’s jokes, and he began to listen to your critiques without defensiveness. The friction that once defined your interactions gave way to a synergy that neither of you had anticipated.

One night, as you both sat on the floor amidst scattered sketches, Sean handed you a cup of coffee. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone unusually serious. “Maybe we’re not so different after all. We both want to understand art, just in our own ways.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I guess we do. And maybe… just maybe, we can learn from each other.”

The final days before the exhibition were a blur of activity. You and Sean worked tirelessly, fine-tuning every detail. The end result was a stunning fusion of artistic expression and historical context, each element enhancing the other.

On the night of the exhibition, as you stood side by side in front of your collaborative masterpiece, the applause from the crowd felt like a distant echo. You turned to Sean, your heart pounding.

“We did it,” you whispered, a smile spreading across your face.

Sean’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “Yeah, we did.”

In that moment, the competitive tension that had defined your relationship melted away, replaced by something warmer, something more profound. As the evening wore on, you found yourselves gravitating closer, the unspoken feelings finally surfacing.

Later, as you walked together under the soft glow of the campus lights, Sean reached for your hand. “You know, Y/N, I’ve grown to really appreciate your perspective. And… well, I’ve grown to appreciate you.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling with affection. “Same here, Sean.”

And as the night enveloped you both, the journey from rivals to partners, and finally to something more, felt like the most beautiful piece of art either of you had ever created.

#life is strange 2 #sean diaz #lis2 #lis2 sean #lis2 sean diaz #sean diaz x reader #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends trope #lis2 headcanons

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perfectsunlight · 1 year ago

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02 ━━━ CAN'T HELP FALLING IN LOVE

warnings: NONE ITS FLUFF.

word count: 5.1k

synopsis: your ex-wife receives an invite to your wedding, but will she let you say "i do" for a second time?

previous | masterlist | next

soyeon didn’t remember when she fell in love with you. not the exact moment, at least.

in the months that followed, the group flourished with the addition of your unique talents. soyeon's initial intuition proved right—your voice blended seamlessly with the others, and your presence brought a new dimension to their performances. it not only transformed the group, but the company as well.

it also transformed the way soyeon looked at you.

wise men say

“unnie?”

the leader’s head whipped around at the sound. she had been too engrossed in her work to even register that you had entered the recording studio. her dyed blonde hair was in a loose low bun, with a few strands slipping in front of her face.

there were those soft irises again.

“it’s late,” you said, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you approached her. the dim light in the studio accentuated the determination in soyeon's eyes, and you couldn't help but admire her unwavering focus. she was always so ambitious. it was something you admired since day one.

“i thought you might need a break,” you continued, holding out a small bag with a few snacks from the convenience store down the street.

soyeon's eyes widened in pleasant surprise, and she couldn't hide the flicker of gratitude that passed through her gaze. “you didn't have to,” she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“i know,” you chuckled softly before setting the plastic bag down on the desk. “but i thought it might help. you've been at this for hours.” your hands clasped together in front of you before you gave her a small smile.

the leader motioned for you to take a seat next to her, and you gladly obliged, settling into the chair with a comfortable sigh. the ambient hum of the recording equipment and the soft glow of the studio monitors created an atmosphere of both creativity and tranquility.

as soyeon reached into the bag, her fingers brushing against the assorted snacks, she couldn't help but appreciate the thoughtful gesture. “you’d think cube would help us out with things like this,” she remarked, a small smile forming on her face.

“they don’t care about the music,” you replied softly, eyes scanning the monitors in front of you. “they just care about the money.”

soyeon chuckled, her eyes meeting yours. “someone has to keep the lights on.” you glanced at her and mirrored the smile on her lips for a moment before returning your gaze to the screens.

“point proven.”

the two of you fell into a companionable silence, the only sounds being the occasional rustling of snack wrappers.

after a few minutes, she finally spoke up again.

“you know,” she paused to swallow a bite of a tangerine. “you’re way quieter than your cousin.”

a giggle escaped your lips, knowing very well how loud and rowdy yuqi could get.

“well, someone has to balance out the decibel levels in the group,” you quipped, earning another chuckle from the older girl. you may not be as loud, but you sure were just as witty as yuqi.

“it’s good to have a mix of energies,” soyeon mused, reaching for another snack. “keeps things interesting.”

“that it does,” you agreed, your eyes flickering to the monitors. the mesmerizing visuals of the recording software danced across the screens, reflecting the creative energy that permeated the studio.

“is this the new track?” you asked softly, motioning to the monitors and the different tabs open on your leader’s desktop computer.

soyeon leaned back in her chair, a contemplative expression on her face. “it’s supposed to be,” she mused as she tossed a wrapper into the nearby trash can. “but i don’t think it’s good enough.” “anything you make is good enough,” you answered with furrowed brows, leaning your head to lay in your palm. “even if it takes a bit, you always figure it out.”

after a few moments, you rose from your seat with a gentle smile. “i’ll let you get back to it.”

the leader’s gaze remained on your side profile for a few movements while you adjusted your jacket. maybe it was the late night ambience. or maybe it was the mood in the room.

but she couldn’t help but feel like she wanted to hear your words and stare at you for a bit longer.

“y/n,” soyeon called out just as you were about to leave, her voice holding a hint of vulnerability. you turned back to face her, eyebrows raised in curiosity and gentle irises focused on her face.

“stay a bit longer, if you don't mind,” she said, her gaze sincere. “i could use a fresh perspective.”

a warm smile crossed your face, and you returned to your seat without hesitation.

only fools rush in

you and soyeon made it your thing to work on title tracks together. it gave soyeon a better perspective and a new producing skill for you. there were ups and downs with each track, but for the most part the two of you worked very well together.

the only time you two were separate was when you’d go back to the dorm to shower or sleep. you roomed with your cousin and soyeon roomed with miyeon, while minnie, shuhua, and soojin shared a different room.

naturally, yuqi would tease you about your close friendship with your leader.

“is that soyeon unnie’s?” your cousin raised an eyebrow at you, inspecting the sleeve of your jacket the moment you walked into the door.

“i grabbed hers by accident when we left,” you playfully pushed her arm and rolled your eyes, slipping your shoes off at the doorway. “we were in a hurry to get out of there before it started raining.”

the dorm room was adorned with a cozy chaos of personal touches—a mix of vibrant posters, scattered makeup products, and the occasional piece of forgotten sheet music. the soft glow of fairy lights hung delicately around the room, casting a warm ambiance that contrasted with the cool exterior of the teasing rain.

yuqi, comfortably perched on her bed adorned with an eclectic collection of plush toys, observed the interaction with a grin that hinted at mischief. the room echoed with the lighthearted banter that often filled the air when the members gathered after a day of rehearsals and recordings.

“hurry to escape the rain, huh? how romantic,” yuqi teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

your cousin shot her a look, shaking your head. "it's not romantic. it's just practical. i don't want to catch a cold, and neither does soyeon unnie."

"practical, sure," your cousin echoed, drawing out the word as she wiggled her eyebrows in a teasing manner. “in a romance novel, that would be considered a meet-cute.”

you couldn't help but chuckle at her theatrical flair. as you settled into the room, the lingering scent of scented candles and the faint hum of music playing from yuqi’s small speaker added to the ambiance.

“so, spill the details,” the taller girl continued, leaning forward with a conspiratorial air. “did your hands accidentally touch when you reached for your jackets? did time slow down, and did you feel the spark of destiny in that moment?”

rolling your eyes, you tossed the jacket onto your bed on your side of the room. “you watch too many dramas. it was a simple jacket mix-up, nothing more.”

the next morning you decided to bring the jacket to your leader, freshly washed and cleaned for her. you tucked it into your small backpack and headed out, a small smile on your face.

until you were met with the downpour of the morning rain, without your own jacket.

a string of curses escaped from your mouth as you ran as fast as you could to the company, not wanting to use soyeon’s jacket and get it soaking wet.

by the time you reached the company, you were drenched from head to toe. the rain had mercilessly worked its way through your clothes, leaving you shivering in the chilly morning air. sighing, you shook off the excess water from your hair and clothes before making your way to the practice room where soyeon was likely immersed in her work.

as you entered the room, you found her hunched over a keyboard, engrossed in composing a melody. the soft hum of the rain against the windows provided a serene backdrop to the scene.

“soyeon unnie,” you called out, your voice a bit sheepish.

the mentioned leader looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of you dripping wet. “what happened?” she asked as she immediately rose from her chair with a light laugh.

“rain decided to be my personal shower this morning,” you replied with a wry smile. “and i brought your jacket back, but i didn't want to use it and get it wet again.” you added as you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

soyeon's gaze softened as she took in your soaked appearance. without a word, she stood up and walked over to you. her fingers brushed against your arm, feeling the dampness of your clothes.

“you're freezing,” she said, concern lacing her words.

“i'll survive,” you shrugged, trying to downplay the discomfort. (your socks felt like puddles in your shoes).

but the smaller girl wasn't convinced in the slightest. without hesitation, she pulled off the oversized sweater she had been wearing. “here, take those off and at least wear this while your clothes dry.” soyeon insisted as she handed it to you.

a small blush appeared on your cheeks as you slowly grasped the hem of your shirt, only to turn and look at your leader. “um, could you…turn around, unnie?”

a soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she turned around, giving you the privacy you asked for. as you swiftly changed into soyeon's sweater, the warmth and scent enveloped you, creating an intimate connection between you and the fabric. the softness of the material and the lingering warmth from soyeon's body brought an unexpected comfort, mixed in with the lingering scent of her perfume.

“okay,” you announced, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude as you tugged the sweater into place. “you can turn around now.”

soyeon turned back, her gaze momentarily fixed on you. the sight of you wearing her oversized sweater, with wet hair clinging to your forehead and a flushed face, stirred something in her.

she couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion, but it was a curious blend of affection and something else.

“better?” the leader asked, her voice a touch softer than before. you nodded, the corners of your lips turning up into a grateful smile. “much better. thank you, soyeon unnie.”

oh, but i, but i, i can't help falling in love with you

ever since that day, soyeon started noticing her fixation with you.

from the way you laughed, the microexpressions on your face, and every one of your unconscious habits seemed to capture her attention in a way she didn’t notice like before.

on top of that, you two were hanging out a lot more, especially with the album deadlines so soon. soyeon didn’t know how to make a move either. the comeback was so soon, and the group was busier than ever.

as much as she wanted to see if you felt the same way, she knew that right now made it difficult to do so.

or so she thought.

it was 1 in the morning and you were still stuck recording your lines for the song “lion.” you ran a hand down your face as you watched soyeon give you the hand signal that meant for you to exit the booth.

you plopped down on the chair next to hers, swiveling side to side as you watched her editing the backtrack and with your vocals.

soyeon's fingers danced across the editing software, fine-tuning every nuance of the song. the glow of the computer screen illuminated her focused expression. you couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way her mind worked, the dedication etched into her every move.

finally satisfied with the adjustments, soyeon turned her chair to face you, eyes meeting your soft irises in the dim light. you were still wearing her sweater that you borrowed weeks ago.

she couldn’t deny the idea of you wearing all of her clothes made her heart flutter.

“you’re the best thing to happen to this team, y/n.”

without breaking eye contact, soyeon reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against yours. the touch was soft, an almost imperceptible caress that sent a shiver down your spine. a subtle smile played on her lips as she pulled your chair closer to hers, narrowing the distance between you.

the glow of the computer screen reflected in soyeon's eyes, intensifying the intimacy of the moment. in the quiet ambiance of the studio, the air seemed to thicken with shared emotions. you found yourself captivated by the vulnerability in soyeon's gaze, a vulnerability mirrored in your own.

as the chair drew nearer, the proximity between you and soyeon became palpable. you could feel the warmth radiating from her, a comforting presence that transcended the late-night recording session. the scent of her sweater enveloped you, creating an aura of familiarity and closeness.

soyeon's fingers lingered on the armrest, ignoring the way her heart was beating outside of her chest. there were no words exchanged between you, and in that moment, the boundaries between you two blurred.

it felt like the natural progression of a melody finding its perfect harmony.

your leader’s eyes never left your lips as she leaned in, with only a goal in mind that involved the only girl she’d ever fallen for. the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the soft glow of the studio lights.

and in that quiet, intimate space, your lips met.

the kiss was slow and soft, gentle enough to give you room to push away. but you never did.

shall i stay?

you couldn’t get the kiss out of your head. you and soyeon hadn’t spoken since it happened.

truth be told, soyeon was terrified of what she had done. she, as your leader, should not have done that.

as days passed, you sensed soyeon's unease, a palpable tension that mirrored your own. it wasn't until you found yourselves alone in the practice room, the muted sounds of the city seeping through the windows, that the unspoken tension surfaced.

the other members had left over an hour ago, leaving the two of you to finish practicing the songs for your solo stages. however, the both of you hadn’t spoken a single word to each other.

soyeon's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, a telltale sign of the unease within her. the air between you crackled with unspoken words, and as your eyes met, it was clear that the time had come to address the uncharted territory.

“y/n,” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “i shouldn't have kissed you. i'm your leader. it's just not right.”

her admission hung in the air, a heavy weight that seemed to intensify the unease in the moment. the vulnerability in her eyes mirrored the apprehension within her. the fear of jeopardizing the harmony within the group, the potential for misunderstandings, and the consequences of crossing the boundaries within a professional setting weighed heavily on her.

she mentally cursed herself for allowing herself to cross the professional boundary.

you took a step closer, your eyes locked with hers. “we can't just pretend it didn't happen. and maybe it's not as wrong as you think. besides,” your inner cheek was bitten as your eyes remained on the wooden floor beneath you.

“i really like you.”

soyeon's gaze flickered between uncertainty and longing. “but what if it goes wrong? what if it affects the group dynamics?”

you reached out, gently taking her hand in yours. “we won't know until we try. and if it gets complicated, we'll navigate it together. we owe it to ourselves to see what this could be.”

a mixture of fear and hope flashed across soyeon's eyes. the weight on her shoulders seemed to lift, if only slightly, as she processed your words. the prospect of dating within the group was daunting, but your reassurance offered a glimmer of courage.

"y/n, i'm scared," she admitted, her vulnerability laid bare.

would it be a sin?

“i am too," you confessed, squeezing her hand. "but i believe in us. we can make this work if we're willing to try.”

soyeon's eyes softened, the apprehension slowly giving way to a flicker of hope. as you pulled her closer, her smaler frame settled comfortably against yours, the warmth of her presence enveloping you both. the air in the practice room seemed to change, charged with a newfound understanding and shared vulnerability.

your lips brushed against soyeon's forehead, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. it was an unspoken agreement lingering in the air as you both leaned into the moment, seeking solace in the confusion of your situation. her fingers found their way to the nape of your neck, a gentle touch that sent shivers down your spine.

in the glow of the practice room lights, the world outside seemed to vanish.

the only reality that mattered was the one unfolding between you and soyeon.

it didn’t take long until your lips met again, this time in a much more desperate kiss. soyeon's hands traced the contours of your face, her touch both gentle and possessive.

as the kiss deepened, you ended up sliding your hands underneath her baggy shirt, your fingers tracing the warm skin of her back. the boundaries that once held you both back became blurred, lost in the haze of shared emotions.

soyeon's breath hitched as your hands explored the canvas of her body, and she reciprocated with a fervor that included her fingers slowly grasping around your throat.

needless to say, yuqi (and the others) found out about what happened only when she was recording her lines for “oh my god.”

(“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS ABOUT Y/N?”)

if i can't help falling in love with you

the two of you kept your relationship hidden for years. but through it all, you two had each other. everything from soojin’s departure from the group to the eventual disbandment couldn’t pull you two apart.

and that meant everything to soyeon. you meant everything to soyeon.

in the year following g-idle’s disbandment, your relationship became public.

the revelation of your love was met with a mix of surprise and support from fans and colleagues alike. the news, however, didn't alter the profound connection you and soyeon shared. if anything, it strengthened your bond, allowing you both to navigate the challenges of newfound visibility together.

one weekend, you decided to escape seoul and spent a quiet week exploring new york together. from the iconic skyline to the serene parks, every moment was spent enjoying each other and the city.

as the last day of the week wound down, the two of you found yourselves back at the hotel, lying in bed and relishing the serenity that followed a day of exploration. the soft glow of the nighttime city lights streamed through the window, casting a cool ambiance over the room.

wrapped in the comfort of each other's presence, soyeon traced patterns on your arm with her fingertips. the city's rhythm hummed outside, a gentle backdrop to the intimacy you both cherished.

it had been quiet for a few minutes until your girlfriend decided to say something.

soyeon shifted to her side, propping herself up on her elbow to gaze at you. the tenderness in her eyes spoke volumes, echoing the unspoken promise that had woven your lives together.

“baby,” she began, her voice a gentle murmur, “i've spent years by your side, through every high and low. you've been my anchor, my confidant, and the love of my life.”

your heart fluttered at her words, anticipation building as she continued to express the depth of her feelings. soyeon's hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent pledge of devotion.

“i can't imagine my life without you,” she confessed, her eyes never leaving yours. “and i don't want to.”

the air seemed to hum with a quiet energy as her gaze held yours, the weight of words hanging in the space between you two. in that moment, like every moment with her, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you.

with a heartfelt sincerity, soyeon whispered, “song y/n, let’s get married.”

like a river flows

surely to the sea

the question lingered in the air, a testament to the journey you had embarked on together. the city's midnight heartbeat outside the window echoed the rhythm of your own as you processed the magnitude of the moment, the proposal marking a new chapter in the story that was uniquely yours.

“are you serious?” you whispered, disbelief in your soft eyes. soyeon's eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity as she nodded, her gaze never wavering from yours. “absolutely serious,” she affirmed, a soft smile playing on her lips. the weight of the question hung in the air, waiting for your response.

the room seemed to hold its breath as you processed the enormity of the moment. in the quiet intimacy of the hotel room, surrounded by the distant hum of the city, you felt a rush of emotions. memories of the years you spent together flooded your mind, painting a vivid picture of your shared journey.

as your eyes met your girlfriend’s, you could see the depth of her commitment, the unwavering certainty in her gaze. the love that had grown silently, resiliently, and now stood before you, asking for a promise that transcended the uncharted future.

a slow smile curved on your lips, and you felt warmth spreading through your chest. “well then,” you whispered, your voice a tender acknowledgment. “let’s get married.”

soyeon's eyes lit up with a mix of joy and relief, and the world outside seemed to respond to the shared happiness within the room. the city lights twinkled, casting a magical glow on the moment.

without hesitation, the older girl leaned in, capturing your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. the room, the city, and the years that led to this point all faded into the background as you both savored the significance of the promise made.

“you’re going to be related to yuqi now,” you whispered, ignoring the way your fiance’s fingers danced along your exposed stomach. soyeon chuckled, her warm breath brushing against your skin as she continued tracing gentle patterns on your stomach.

“i can handle yuqi,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes. “but i can't handle the thought of anyone else being the one beside you on that day.”

the playful banter was met with a soft laugh from you. “well, we might have to endure some teasing, but i'm sure she'll come around. besides, it'll be our day.”

soyeon propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at you with a tender expression. “our day,” she repeated, the words holding a profound significance. you gently reached up and brushed a few loose strands out of her face.

“our day.” you repeated with a smile.

darling, so it goes

some things, you know, are meant to be

your wedding was planned on the shores of hawaii in april of the next year, overlooking the turquoise waters as the gentle breeze carried the scent of cherry blossoms. the ceremony was adorned with hues of pastel pinks and whites, echoing the natural beauty of the island. close friends and family gathered, sharing the joy that radiated from the two brides.

the aisle was lined with petals, creating a delicate pathway for soyeon and you to walk hand in hand towards your shared future. the soft strains of a string quartet played a melody that seemed to harmonize with the beating hearts of everyone present.

shuhua begged to officiate, and after much reluctance from soyeon, she eventually agreed. your former youngest member smiled from ear to ear at the sight of you two holding hands underneath the arch.

“and now for the vows,” she announced, turning her attention to soyeon first. “soyeon, you will go first.”

soyeon’s eyes fell to the piece of paper in her hands, already fighting the urge to cry in front of you and everyone she cared about. “my y/n,” she started off with a small smile. “from the moment our paths crossed, i knew my life was about to change. i never expected our meeting could lead to where we are today.”

you did a good job of holding back your tears until she spoke the next line.

“y/n, you are the melody in the soundtrack of my life, and the rhythm that keeps my heart beating in sync with yours.”

soyeon chose to ignore the way you looked up to avoid your tears from spilling over, and continued reading for her own sake.

“i don’t know when i fell in love with you, but i remember everything leading up to it. i marveled at the way you saw the beauty in the simplest things. your laughter became the sound that chased away my doubts and fears. you taught me the language of patience and understanding, and in your presence, i found a home. and as we weathered storms, i discovered the depth of your resilience. there were moments when life threw challenges our way, but you stood by me with unwavering support.”

you gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a silent encouragement to keep going.

“today, as we stand here, surrounded by the love of those who matter most, i make these vows to you. i promise to cherish and celebrate you for all that you are and all that you will become. i promise to be your anchor in the storms, and to create a life filled with a love that continues to deepen with each passing day.”

the older girl blinked back the tears at the corners of her own eyes, fingers trembling slightly as she neared the end of her written vows.

“your tears will never be shed alone, for in sorrow and in joy, we are one. and as we walk hand in hand into this new chapter, i promise to choose you every day, to be your confidante, your partner, and your greatest supporter.

this ring on your finger is more than a symbol; it's a testament to the promises i make today and every day thereafter. song y/n, my love, i am endlessly grateful to call you my wife. i love you.”

when the shorter girl finally looked up, her chest tightened at the sight of your soft irises filled with tears.

soyeon's voice trembled with emotion as she concluded her vows, and she delicately wiped away the tears that escaped the corners of her eyes. the love between you two, palpable in the air, resonated with everyone present. soojin glanced at minnie and whispered, ignoring the yuqi who was nearly in shambles at the sight of her cousin getting married.

“five bucks yuqi loses it before they kiss.”

shuhua then turned her attention to you, a loving smile on her lips. “y/n, it's your turn.”

you took a deep breath, steadying the emotions that threatened to spill over. your gaze locked with soyeon's, a silent exchange of love and commitment that spoke volumes. with a soft smile, you began your vows.

“jeon soyeon, my leader and my lover. when we met, i wasn’t expecting to fall in love with you. but falling for you was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

at this point, yuqi, the maid of honor, was already silently sobbing against miyeon's shoulder.

“you’ve shown me how to stick up for myself, and how to believe in the things that i have faith in. in your eyes, i find my strength, and in your heart, i've found a home. i promise to be your safe harbor, your confidante, and your eternal partner.”

soyeon’s vision blurred as she listened to the words you spoke across from her.

“i know we’ve been through heaven and hell, and i know that we’ve got bad days ahead of us as well, but i promise you that our bad days won’t make me love you any less. i pledge to cherish and honor you, to respect and support you, and to keep our love burning bright until the end of time.” with a watery smile, you gently squeezed her hand again as you looked into the eyes of the only girl you had ever loved.

“this ring on my finger signifies not just our union, but a promise to choose you every day, and to stand by you in both sunshine and rain. jeon soyeon, my heart is forever yours, and i am beyond grateful to call you my wife.”

take my hand

take my whole life too

“jeon soyeon, do you take song y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish, to support and honor, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” shuhua asked, her voice resonating with warmth and sincerity.

soyeon's eyes never wavered from yours. with a serene smile, she replied, “i do.”

shuhua then turned to you, her gaze filled with contagious joy. “and song y/n, do you take jeon soyeon to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish, to support and honor, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

you couldn't help but return her smile, your heart brimming with love. “i do.”

for i can"t help falling in love with you

“by the power vested in me and the state of hawaii, i now pronounce you wife and wife.” shuha said with a grin, but before she could get to the next part, yuqi shouted hysterically.

“NOW KISS!”

and as you two laughed along with your family and friends, you pulled the smaller girl in as she cupped your face and kissed you. the cheers and applause from your loved ones surrounded you, creating a symphony of joy. it was a kiss filled with promises, sealing the love you vowed to share for a lifetime.

as the moment lingered, soyeon pulled away with a content smile, her eyes locking with yours. “i’m so glad i fell in love with you.” you whispered with a genuine smile on your face.

your wife only smiled back, brushing a few petals out of your hair before whispering back.

“i couldn’t help falling in love with you.”

for i can"t help falling in love with you

a/n: lets pretend i posted this yesterday...

#─👤 sunlight speaks #jeon soyeon #song yuqi #gidle series #gidle #soyeon x reader #gidle x reader #original series #angst #kpop #wlw #gxg #i do #perfectsunlight

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kaneandfeels · 8 months ago

Text

SO A LOT OF YOU ASKED A LOT OF QUESTIONS So we answered every one we were asked

1. What is an element of your story that surprised you?

How quickly the Holmes and Watson dynamic we used as a writing crutch entirely flipped through our characters growing and developing. Feels became the star rather than the sounding board in a way that is really organic and good - Jack

Its scope. I had dabbled with absurdism before Kane and Feels, but never gone full existential horror. I’m more of a like quiet melodrama type so i love that jack was able to get me writing more esoteric bullshit- Oli

I don’t know if it's surprising, but there’s a tenderness to a lot of the series that I wasn't expecting when we started. It sets its tropes out strongly, and then the characters interact in that space and take it in wildly different directions, while remaining true to the genre. - Jude

2. Is audio drama the only medium you've worked in? How does it compare to other mediums?

Audio dramas are the only form I've ever received feedback for really, I have a literature degree and I am constantly making stories but I don't really have any other published works like this. - jack

I’ve studied in other mediums, but not worked in them. I’ve done bits of filming at school but found quickly my talents laid in sound. - Jude

I’m an audio nerd, through and through. Started as a musician, became a DJ, wrote a sitcom, did a degree, made some docs and factual programmes and then it's been audio dramas since then. It's a difficult medium to master but a rewarding one when its’ done right. - Oli

3. What are some audio dramas that inspire you? Both in general and for your podcast.

Welcome to nightvale was a big early touchstone, the work of Dirk Maggs like batman knightfall meant a lot to me as a child, I had it on cassette tapes

HItchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (the radio series) is a big one. I listened to it religiously when growing up. Neverwhere was another one that inspired me from a sound perspective. The shifting brickwork always tickles my brain. - Jude

I listened to a lot of HP as a kid, while going tobed. I graduated onto the BBC7 ‘Comedy Club’ which played a mix of half hour sitcoms and stand up comedy vehicles between 10 and midnight when I was going to sleep… occasionally I would drift into the ‘seventh dimension’ where I’d hear the man in black, Blake 7 and all other sci-fi horrory affairs. When Nightvale turned up, that was a game changer, cause it opened the field to people like me to go make audio dramas without the clout of the BBC behind us. Same with Wooden overcoats.

More specifically though, there is a direct line between Aker and Blacker’s “beyond Belief’ on the Thrilling adventure hour’ and the early drafts of Kane and Feels

4. Who is a character that took you by surprise?

Councilman Geoff Grace. Go listen for why - Jack

Jeanine (the housewife) wasn’t surprising, but she was shocking. I just loved her framing and existence in the story. It's one of those ones where you can feel the screen on the scene. you ‘re looking in at this strange commercial of a woman as she lives this warped 50’s vibe. - Jude

For me, its the monster from wonderland. I had this idea for something grotesque, that pulled apart the idea that words don’t hurt. Of course words hurt. That’s why they can lead us to violence or action or whatever. So I had this idea of a monster who said words ‘scar from the inside’. Jack said ‘this is great, what is this monster?”…. And i hadn’t thought that far ahead. I said ‘I dunno, that’s your job, spookyman’ - so suddenly its the voice of the goddess of spite, we get Vivi P, the most terrifying italian woman ever to grace our studios to do her voice, and then pepper her in through out the series making her a serious big bad. Didn’t know she’d have that milage considering it was essentially a joke about sticks and stones breaking bones. - Oli

5. If you're the writer, how did casting/producing change how you thought about the podcast?

No one gave a fuck about our opinions on this particualr subject. - Oli

6. If you are a voice actor or audio editor, what is your favorite blooper moment?

There's a line with constituents in season one episode 4 that I just couldn't say - Jack

I think a lot of our weird bloopers end up in the show, either as the take or buried beneath some stuff. Season 2 is lousy with them, from Chippie’s final monologue to the sound of me and Oli in Thornbush’s charity shop. To even the joke about Paul Bearer in the final episode. - Jude

There’s one take we never used, where Ali Cambell, Jeanines’ actor, improvised a story about their first hamster. In the story, she crushes it to death. We loved it at the time, but it was arguably better than anything any of us had written so I personally coward’d out and didn’t put it in. - Oli (Id’ forgotten about that - Jude)

7. If you could make a crossover (canon or non canon) with any other audio drama, what would it be?

Am I allowed to say ‘Camlann’? Even though its very recent we’d slot in very well.or Victoriocity - Jude

I mean, I want to be on hello from the magic tavern, but not as kane - Jack

Sandman. Wanna work with Dirk. or What’s the Frequency or if Rose Drive ever resurrects. - Oli

8. What is an inside joke or reference that is hidden in your podcast?

So many wrestling kayfabe references - Jack

I always think of ‘GET BACK VILE BEAST’ *dunstan throws a spanner at a bird* - The real joke is that a lot of the rocks from St Dunstan made it into Camlann episode seven when the hill opens up into the underground.

The inside joke for me is the loops. “Jude’s discount Loops” - hacking these beautiful pieces of music that Oli has made and getting them to work. They’re all like 14 minutes long and there’s chopping that needs to be done.

9. What are some of your favorite podcasts to listen to?

World Beyond Number. Westminster Insider, Too many Tabs, Chapo Trap House. I’m a trash person who listens to trash. (other than WBN, most exciting actual play on the scene RN) = Oli

Is it terrible I’m more of a music person? I’m currently spiraling back into Nonagon Infinity by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard. I listen to old audiobooks to sleep. At the moment it's the good omens radio series with Mark Heap and Peter Serafinowitz. - Jude

I have an elaborate weekly schedule of podcasts I listen to, my current favorite is 'mom can't cook'

10. Are the podcasts you make / enjoy making the same kind you enjoy listening to (genre, formatting, etc)?

I mostly listen to character improv comedy and comedy reviews of film and wrestling. A little bit of D&D actual play too. so I guess... no? - J

I can’t just say ‘I don’t listen to podcasts’... I mean I can and I don’t. - Jude

No. - Oli

11. Free space! Tell me something cool about your podcast!

The music is crazy good - Jack

The Sound Design is once in a generation. - OliThe writing is ambitious and exciting - Jude

#kane and feels #Ask meme #chemicallywrit #geekeryisafoot #alegocarmadein #regicidal-defenestration

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