#does anyone else sing along to the guitar noise

[thecremaster2520]

well this disease is defined by its treatment you people make me sick wah waaow

[pinksugarscrub]

Guts

Hobie Brown x fem! spider! reader

Event by @the-kr8tor and banners by @the-shroom-garden

Thank you @hyperfix-wip! (beta reader) you know how excited I was to finally finish

Can you tell I like Olivia Rodrigo yet? Thanks to my little brother for forcing having me to listen to her music 💜

word count: 1,770

parts: 1, 2

cw: cursing, suggestive comment from Peter, and simping

~

Tap, tap, tap

Tap, tap, tap

“Oi mate-” Hobie’s foot tapping falters as he turns around.

“You look bloody fit,” Ned groans. Draped over the edge of Hobie’s bed bored out of his mind. “Will you get out of here? You’ve only got ten minutes.”

Hobie’s shoulders sink as he glances at himself in the mirror again. His fingers running over the leather of his jacket. A plush lining to keep him warm after your persistent warnings about New York Autumn.

“Oh mate…” Ned’s expression falters as he turns to lay on his stomach. “You’re really worried about this.”

Hobie swallows as he tears his gaze away from his reflection. “No shit.”

Now Hobie knows tonight is nothing more than a casual dinner. It really isn’t anything special. Just pie and more pie and oh wait, more pie. But it’s also the first time he’ll meet your family and the encounter feels more like an indoctrination than an introduction.

He wants to make a good impression and when did he become the kind of person to care about impressions? It’s just that these people care about you and you care about them ten fold. If he fucks it up with them will he even have a chance with you? 

Hobie can see you smile in the back of his mind. He doesn’t feel good enough for you but he also doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. Doesn’t that sound egregious.

He wants to hear you sing. He really does and he’s somewhat terrified the moment he does he’s going to fall deeper in love with you. 

He really wants to be there for every wonderful moment the way you’ve been there for him. There isn’t a show you’ve missed or a song you haven’t listened to that he’s recommended. Hobie wants to be by your side and the feeling is as suffocating as it is satisfying. He didn’t even know you played until he caught you fiddling with his guitar. 

Is it weird he wants to hold you in his lap while you strum a few chords? Sing to him like his own personal songbird.

Damn he was whipped.

“Listen, Hobs.” Ned’s hand clasps his shoulder. He softens his voice too to a tone only reserved for moments much like this one. “You’ve got to trust her.”

Trust her? With what? His unyielding affection and admiration.

“If it’s meant to be it’ll work out.” Ned bites his tongue. Unsure if he’s said the right or the wrong thing. 

Hobie sighs and finally turns to Ned. A half hearted smile on his lips as he pats his hand. “I know but…”

“Doesn’t make waiting any less shitty?” Ned replies. A weak laugh escaped him. 

“Yeah,” Hobie chuckles. Wrapping his arms around Ned and becoming dead weight. 

“Want me to go with you?” Ned shifts Hobie in his arms to keep the two of them from collapsing. 

“Nah, I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.” 

“You’re not asking, I'm telling.”

Their flat goes quiet and Ned knows Hobie is seriously debating the idea so without much thought he drags him along on his way to his room next door. 

“Is it a shithole? Because I don’t want to lose my good chucks.” 

“It’s a good part of town,” Hobie mumbles. Face hot as his nerves finally seem to settle. “Thanks Neddy.”

“Shut up and get off,” Ned huffs. Snatching his favorite jumper and searching for a pair of jeans. 

“Really mate-” Hobie slowly grins as Ned shoves him off. It deters him none as he makes obnoxious kissing noises. “You’re the best.”

“Bloody back off!” Ned chokes on a laugh. “These lips aren’t for you, you little shit.”

“Promise I’ll make it up to your date.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near Riri.”

Ned cringes as soon as the words leave his lips. Well, fuck.

“Riri!?” 

-

The venue is loud. Not burst your eardrums loud which Ned agrees with, but definitely loud. 

“Are you sure we’re in the right place mate?” Ned scans the room before shrugging. “Looks like a regular old pub to me.”

“It’s a different kind of show.”

“Really? Different how?”

Hobie doesn’t know. You were so nervous when you asked him to your show he couldn’t bring himself to pull it out of you.

“Guess we’ll have to find out-”

A quiet buzz forms from the back of his neck down his spine. Subtly he turns his head. 

“I’m too old for this.”

“Oh please, we’re in our late twenties.”

“Early thirties,” someone else corrects.

They look familiar but he can’t quite place them until one person from the group catches his eye. It’s your MJ.

“Oh, hey! I’d recognize you anywhere.” She grins as she leaves behind who he now knows to be Peter Parker and Harry Osborn. “You must be Hobie.”

 Hobie’s hands suddenly feel sweaty. “Yeah, pleasure to meet you miss.”

Ned looks over at him flabbergasted but doesn’t say a word. Only makes a twirling motion with his finger and silently mouths ‘whipped’.

Hobie glares, prepared to give him the greatest beat down of the century until Peter and Harry finally seem to catch up. Then he’s all smiles and polite laughter.

“Babe you totally ditched us b— woah, hello sailor.”

MJ sighs while pinching the bridge of her nose. Way to make a good impression, she thinks.

Peter leans in close to her ear. “I see the appeal.”

“We…we can still hear you,” Ned interjects. Perplexed as he turns to Hobie. “They do know that right?”

“Hey, Hobie right?” Harry smiles. Pushing past Peter with a much softer tone to his voice. “Our girl has told us so much about you. You must be…?”

“Ned, Leeds.” Now Ned feels like quaking in his boots and he’s not even the one needing moral support.

“Ned, ah, I’m glad you could make it.” He nods toward the stage. “Should be starting any minute. Mind if we join you?”

Hobie yelps before nodding and letting out a hurried, “yes of course.”

“Great.”

Hobie thinks Harry’s turned away for his benefit. He takes the opportunity and rubs his side. 

“Did you really have to hit me that hard?” He hisses.

“Nah, I just enjoy torturing you.”

“You little-”

“So, are you two excited?” MJ chirps back in. “You’re the first friend I think she’s ever invited to one of her shows.”

That gives Hobie pause. “How come?”

“Oh well she’s always kept to herself. Society's been good for her. I trust you’re looking out?” 

Hobie nods, “I’m taking care of her, I promise.”

MJ smiles and nods in return. “Good.”

“Looks like it’s just us.” Peter wraps his arm around MJ’s shoulder. Eyes on his phone. “Junior just texted her other friends will meet us at F.E.A.S.T. after the show.”

“So it’s just Hobs she invited?” Ned asks. Not even hiding his cheshire grin.

Peter immediately matches his energy. A cheeky grin on his lips. “Just him.”

The butterflies in Hobie’s stomach grow worse. So much worse. Then the lights shut off and cheers erupt.

To be completely frank, Hobie doesn’t pay a lick of attention to the bands on stage. He’s just waiting for a glimpse of you. 

Time doesn’t feel fast enough but when he hears your voice, he wishes he could stop it.

“Is everyone enjoying the show!” 

The cheers grow even louder and your laugh, god his heart tightens in his chest.

“Wonderful! Well, I have the honor of closing tonight so I’m pleased to introduce The Mary Janes!”

Goosebumps break out on his skin the moment the guitar riff echoes into the area. It’s the exhilarating feeling he gets from playing with Ned and the others. Listening to music with you in your car, talking nonsense all at once.

Driving on the right-side road

He says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes

And he’s got hands that-

Wait, was this song about him?

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote

I wish I wrote

Please be about him.

And he laughs at all my jokes

And he says I'm so American

Oh, God, it's just not fair of him

To make me feel this much

His heart skips a beat when you lock eyes with him. There’s a slight falter in your voice but you push through. Smiling at him as sweat builds up on your skin.

I'd go anywhere he goes

And he says I'm so American

Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in love

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude

Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you

The way you dress, and the books you read

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me

When he's with me

Yeah, he’s kissing you tonight

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon

But if the conversation ever were to come up

I don't wanna assume this stuff

But ain't it love?

I think I'm in love

Shit he wants to kiss you now.

The final chords ring out and the screams have been loudest out of the whole night. 

As soon as you’re out of sight he looks to Ned and Ned laughs. With a shove he points his best friend into the direction he’s sure the backstage is in.

“Go get em’ tiger!” MJ yells.

“Please keep the tongue to a minimum!” Peter cries.

The pounding of his heart and the smack of his boots on the floor are all he can hear. Skidding to a stop he slips through a door with a taped over sign.

He spouts apologies and jumps over drum kits until he barrels into you or, you barrel into him. You’ve really got to watch where you’re going.

“Hobie-!” You feel dizzy after the clumsy collision of limbs. “What are you doing back here?”

“Was that for me?” He asks out of breath.

You blink as you finally register his presence. A shy smile makes its way onto your face. 

“If it was?”

“If it was?” He laughs. “You’re such a cheeky little thing.”

“Hey! I’m-”

The words die on your tongue as he crashes his lips onto yours. His hands moving from your shoulders to your face. Gently caressing the skin there.

“Yeah.” You answer when you part. Dizzy for a whole different reason. “It was for you.”

Hobie laughs again.

“Well what are you waiting for?” You sigh. “Kiss me again.”

So he does.

I had so much fun participating and hope we can continue to have this mass collaboration moving forward. You all did wonderfully and if I haven't gotten to your work I hope to do so soon. Well done everyone! 🫶

[skywalkin-in-the-papes]

Newsies And What Instruments They Play - Headcanon

Hey there! Here's some Newsies headcanons that me and my pals @nycnewsgirl and @newsies-but-theacadianway came with about what instruments the boys would play. I added the details just to make it a little more fun. Anyhoo, I'm curious about what you think so feel free to agree or disagree or come up with your own ideas in the comments.

-Jack sings and plays the guitar. And Katherine equally loves it and makes fun of it being the most cliche way ever to romance a girl (which he definitely does take her up to the rooftop of the lodge and strums away on his guitar while singing to her. He loves the vibe and romance of it. She...doesn't always roast him.) He just enjoys the simplicity of his own voice accompanied by a guitar. And also, he can sing whenever he wants up on the rooftop and most of the time no one sends out a noise complaint. Jack likes to sing and play a lot of pop and country songs but he'll branch out and try new things if someone introduces him to it. Mostly, he just likes to play things that the boys (mostly Crutchie) want to hear or play along with him. He just loves getting to sing and play because to him, it helps him feel free and like he can do anything. Jack also will occasionally play harmonica because Santa Fe. Need I say any more?

-Davey plays piano and he can play most of your typical classical pieces by memory. He has the perfect piano posture and is fairly graceful and delicate. He likes to lead a group from the piano but doesn't like to play piano duets with anyone else really (ask Sarah.). He's actually really good at jazz though and likes being creative with classical pieces by putting a jazz spin on them.

-Crutchie plays mandolin and banjo. He loves to strum little folksy tunes and sit outside on the rooftop. Sometimes he'll convince Jack to learn the words to the song and sing along with him (oh who are we kidding? Jack 100% learns the words to the songs and how to play it on the guitar.). Crutchie is very chilled out by his music and sometimes he'll come down into the bunkroom and play songs so the little boys will go to sleep. He's a beast at the mandolin too (which is a feat considering it has twelve strings) because he plays at least once a day for awhile and Jack can't say no so he'll join in and then it'll wind up being more like 2 hours of play time.

-Race can play the triangle (yes, he wakes the boys who won't get out of bed up with it every morning and yes, they HATE it.). He uses it every time any kind of a meal rolls around when everyone is home (the boys kinda hate this too but not as much as the other aforementioned triangle use). At Christmas time, Race will play the slap stick in Sleigh Ride and will leap across the stage like a reindeer (claiming that it helps him feel more like one) as he slaps the two wooden 2 x 4s together. In a regular setting, he usually has both of these percussion instruments nearby. Race can also play guitar and he likes to play...any kind of music really. He likes anything that he can strum fast and/or hard to. He's not a very gentle player (which when he plays with Finch who also plays guitar, they play things that have an equal amount of picking and strumming). He also likes to collect picks and NO ONE can touch his precious picks without his permission. (Thanks, Nutcracker for helping come up with the last couple things for Race). None of the boys question it anymore because they've put up with Race's antics long enough that they know better.

-Albert plays barry sax and/or drums. He likes that with the barry sax he gets to be a solid presence but still stable and not have to do anything too fancy most of the time. He appreciates the occasional solo that'll get thrown his way but he just likes to stick to the fun low rhythms. When he plays drums (and he's not too busy hardcore judging Race for his triangle or slapstick playing), he likes to be a little bit fancier with the rhythms and he likes to be a little bit louder. He likes to remind people that he is there and he IS the stable rhythm. He likes to play any kind of rock or metal songs on the drums. Something that has drive but a stable rhythm. On his barry sax, he likes to play anything that's got a fun but stable groove to it.

-Les plays baby bongos(the Davey approved instrument) and trumpet(obviously the non-Davey approved instrument). He would never tell Davey this but(he actually enjoys the baby bongoes because they sound fun). He really likes to play the trumpet because it's loud, he can play fast on it, and it annoys Davey. The baby bongos are almost a little too small and a little too boring for him because Davey just teaches him really simple rhythms while Les wants to learn something more...intense. Hence why he had Finch teach him trumpet (Finch plays a lot of things.).

Speaking of the bird boy...

-Finch plays a lot of different instruments....like a lot. He plays guitar, flute, trumpet, and really any kind of brass instrument to name a few. He appreciates them all for the different styles of music he can experiment with. He spends a lot of time playing guitar and learning all kinds of different pieces on it but he really plays a variety of instruments for a variety of occasions. He likes being able to play the different instruments just whenever he feels like it (Jack had to tell him he could only play flute and guitar late at night because they're quieter). Oftentimes during a performance, he'll be running around the stage, filling in on different parts or playing a song here only to run across the stage to play a song on a completely different instrument. Somehow he manages to keep all of his different clefs and keys straight (just don't ask him what happened during a performance of The Little Mermaid for his high school. He was playing trumpet and picked up his flute and had the trumpet music in front of him and it got confusing real fast. Thankfully, Finch got his flute music and it was all good.). Finch likes playing with the other boys who play instruments as well as teaching some of the other boys instruments. He loves random little jam sessions and watching one of his friends achieve a new skill on an instrument (they all joke that he's the one going to Carnegie though). Finch just enjoys sitting in a tree with an instrument after a long day and playing while forgetting his problems, sometimes by himself or with a couple of his close friends.

-Romeo plays the accordion and some hand percussion (give that boy a tambourine and....well you'll feel whatever you feel when he starts playing it). Why? So he can croon romantic songs while playing the accordion. Does it work? Ummm..... Nah, he really loves it because he likes to learn love songs on it and he feels that the accordion is a very romantic instrument. He also likes that you get to play keys and push a lot of buttons. It's very hands on which is a good thing for him. When Race annoys (he doesn't think it's annoying but ask Romeo) the boys in the morning with the triangle, Romeo gets out the accordion and then things escalate into a noise war (Jack eventually kicks them both out onto the fire escape or something). Most of the time though, Romeo likes to play the accordion out on the fire escape to see if a neighboring apartment has a fair young woman who would be interested in hearing his playing. He appreciates how the accordion allows him to be flamboyant and expressive all at the same time while being his (in his book) most mastered attribute....romantic. As far as the hand percussion goes, he can be as loud and enthusiastic as he wants with it and nobody judges. He loves the tambourine (it's his favorite one) because it's loud and requires a lot of movement. If he wants to impress someone though, he goes for the accordion.

-Spot plays the violin. He..surprisingly plays some very pretty classical music on it (which Race totally makes fun of him for from the percussion section), folksy songs (boy does have some Irish heritage) and he likes playing as the violinist for groups who perform rock operas. His classical training enables him to do...so much with his violin. He started by taking violin lessons as one normally would and just playing a lot of different kinds of music which in turn made him a very versatile musician. The other violinists he knows all think he's amazing (and his reputation is something Spot doesn't let others think they can trifle with). Spot basks in this but purposely appears hard to please so he can maintain his tough reputation. He really enjoys the classical music as much as the other music but he can't let anyone know because that would reveal that he has a soft spot and Spot Conlon does NOT have a soft spot.

-Jojo plays ukulele and playing it takes him right to his happy place. He'll sit on the beach in Brooklyn (Spot won't kick him out because he actually likes the peaceful vibes of Jojo's playing) and just strum a song. Sometimes it's some kind of island song that he learned from the Internet, a pop song, or some kind of Spanish guitar song but Jojo thinks it sounds better on ukulele so that's where it gets played the most. When some of the younger boys are struggling to go to sleep, he'll strum some peaceful music to go to sleep. The other boys don't care because it actually helps them go to sleep better too. That and it's Jojo and the music is very peaceful. Sometimes he hums along but he's kind of shy about his singing voice so he mostly just strums. Once he picked up ukulele, he realized that this is the one habit which soothe any nerves that he has. He'll sit somewhere and play by himself and just enjoy the peaceful rhythm of his strumming or he'll play for others so they can feel the same kind of calm and peace that he does.

-Kid Blink plays alto sax. He likes that it's kind of loud but can do some really cool things and can be as smooth as butter. It's kind of an aggressive instrument but it can do some amazing things. Part of the reason why Blink likes it so much. He can play some of the punchiest melodies on the planet that are loud and biting while also being able to play some of the smoothest jazz pieces. Blink typically likes to play band music or jazz. He loves band arrangements of pop songs (even though he finds the actual pop songs annoying, the band version to him is a ton of fun). He likes to play music with Albert, Mush, and really any of the guys. He also likes to compete with Race's triangle and plays louder than Race so that way people can hear something more fun than just Race banging jingle bells on the triangle for the umpteenth time. He and Romeo then get into a "who can play louder" competition and...yeah, you can imagine how that goes. There's a lot of loud accordion and saxophone music going on. Blink likes playing smooth jazz pieces that sound beautiful and he likes some of the more fun and fast jazz solos. He's someone who really really likes to see how fast he can play so he'll pick something ambitious to play and just goes to town on it. He and Albert get into little who can play faster competitions and the boys cheer them on. Crutchie, Mush, Jojo, or Buttons will tell them that they really play equally fast but the boys don't listen. They want to WIN. (Except any of those boys most definitely can shred more than Blink and Al but they don't need to know that). Blink just likes playing saxophone because it's freeing. He can be as loud as he wants and it still sounds cool. Much like how he has a somewhat loud and outgoing personality, but he can do a lot of cool things with it.

(Okay, this next one might get really long because I love Mush and his instrument. I'm sorry but I also love Mush so I'm not that sorry)

-Mush plays clarinet and he's really good at it. He loves getting to play pretty jazz things, pretty classical things...etc. He also likes playing things that are a bit more loud and flamboyant but he likes playing quieter too and some of the more elegant styles. That being said, Mush likes to play just about anything as long as he doesn't just sit there and hold notes. He thinks that that is really boring even if the melody on top is really pretty. Davey loves to play music with him because they can play some really pretty duets and Mush typically follows the music or Davey's directions. They play some really pretty things that surprisingly will captivate some of the younger boys on any given night. Mush LOVES to play in the pit for musicals. He loves it when he gets to play fun little solos or the melody that the cast is singing. He likes the jazzy musicals the best because then he gets to bust out his jazz skills as well. And maaaaannnn, does this boy have jazz skills? He can do slides and vibrato and growls pretty well. Sometimes they go sideways and it makes him and whoever is playing with him laugh. Mush plays music with a lot of the different boys. He likes to learn new songs and styles and try out different tricks that he learns on his clarinet with these new songs. He'll play just about anywhere and at anytime really. If there's a girl he likes in the room, he'll just casually start playing from somewhere else in the room and see if she notices. Jack will periodically kick him out to the fire escape at night if there is some peace and quiet needed in the lodging house. He'll just sit on his bunk(which is a top one for the sake of this headcanon) and casually swing his legs back and forth while he's playing. But seriously, he'll play just about anywhere. He can play really high notes on his clarinet and sometimes that's more effective in getting the boys to be quiet than shouting or whistling at them because high notes on a clarinet are super loud (Skittery hates it when this happens and it's not in a piece of music). Mush likes to play in a little jazz combo with Finch, Albert, Skittery, Davey, and sometimes Crutchie or Jack. They have a ton of fun playing little jazz songs from the 30s but they usually do that when the littles are out for the night so that they can just enjoy their music. Blink and Mush also play a lot of music together because they both play woodwinds (yes, I'm aware that sax is also technically a brass instrument) and they play jazz songs and all kinds of things. Sometimes Blink joins in on the little jazz combo when he has free time to do so and he and Mush will trade solos back and forth just for fun. Mush and Finch play together a lot too and they also would trade solos back and forth (Finch plays a variety of instruments that go well with Mush's clarinet so it would depend on the day and his mood what he's playing). Mush plays in a lot of different groups when he has time and similar to Finch, has a pretty well rounded musical skill set.

Also, I did actually write something on Wattpad where Mush plays clarinet: https://www.wattpad.com/1116924147-life-with-the-newsies-one-shots-open-to-ocs-all

It's a 20s AU oneshot and I had a blast writing it. I am hoping to write some more for him in the future.

-Skittery plays drums and double bass/bass guitar. He likes the drums because he can hold down the rhythm but it also helps him get out any...frustrations. He really likes rock and metal music for this reason because he can hit the drums as hard and fast as he wants and no one's complaining as long as it sounds cool. He sometimes will play bass guitar but only in a more chill setting. He enjoys getting to play some cool bass solo every once in awhile in some kind of fancy rock song. Bass can get really gritty and Skittery can really let some of his more negative emotions just get lost in the bass solos. He also will play double bass in orchestral or jazz music. Orchestral music is something that Skittery....tolerates. He just...for some reason doesn't find it very interesting. He LOVES jazz though because he can play some fun and fast jazz solos. He also likes that they don't sound as gritty but that his jazz solos can just be so...pleasant to play. Again, it really helps him get out of his crappy mood (even though he'll deny it) to just go to town on some kind of jazz song where he gets to go all over the bass' register. Skittery likes things (and he would never admit this) that are just...fun to play on an emotional level because they really do make him happy. He doesn't like to stick out but he likes to have his moments of fun and he likes to hold down a reliable rhythm that people can count on.

-Buttons plays the banjo. He honestly love the more...rustic sound of it. He enjoys playing fast folk songs but he'll also play a soothing ballad and get into it just the same. Buttons can finger pick across the fret board of a banjo quite well and aspires to be like some of the great bluegrass players someday (seriously, just look at this man's Spotify Wrapped. It's all FOLK). He and Crutchie, Jack, or Finch will sometimes play together. Buttons also really enjoys Southern Gospel music so he'll play that too sometimes. He just enjoys all of the things that a banjo can do and yet, it feels so simple because it's all on one instrument. It can add a lot but it's still simple and can stand up on it's own, much like himself.

(Can you tell that I like things to have deeper meanings? These all end with these instruments relating to the boys in some way).

-Elmer is Buttons' (and sometimes Crutchie's) folksy partner in crime with his fiddle/violin. These two will play together for HOURS. Elmer and Buttons have learned all of the folk songs together and they both know all of the little solos that make those songs sound the way that they should. Elmer also will play classical music and periodically a pop song or two, but folk is really where his heart's at. He has played jazz occasionally and enjoys it too. Elmer loves violin because it sticks out in the group. It's also something pretty unique in and of itself (even though Skittery literally tells him it's the most POPULAR string instrument. Yes, Elmer gets very passionate about that topic.) and Elmer just really likes its versatility. He primarily uses it for folk music but he enjoys having an instrument that meshes well with a lot of different styles. He likes being able to blend in and stick out all the same. He wants his moments of solo time to shine and to be heard but, he wants others to be heard too.

-Specs plays tenor sax. He loves how low and mellow it is. He can play some pretty things that stick out but, he prefers to keep things smooth and chill. He and Finch will play together a lot to just sort of jam. Specs like just getting to vibe and play smooth jazz music or pop songs. Most of the time, he prefers really chill and slow jazz. He finds it soothing and it gives him a chance to stand out without overdoing things too much. He particularly likes French sounding jazz because it has a lot of smooth and pretty tenor saxophone in it. He loves getting to sustain notes down in that lower register just because they sound absolutely reassuring. He finds it easy to lose himself in music like that. This boys absolutely LOVES to play gentle soft jazz when it's raining outside. Like he just loves the rainy jazz vibes that tenor sax allows him to experience. He's not the most vibey person but this gives him all the feels for sure. He also has a lot of fun playing more energetic music though and will play some fun solos in more exciting swing music songs (and he will sometimes prove to the boys that yes he CAN in fact solo and keep up with the rest of them and he doesn't prefer to stick in the background all the time...). The smoother jazz is more relaxing to him and it allows him to play things that he wants to play without it always being chaotic and loud (even though he plays a notoriously loud instrument) because he enjoys getting to have his moments but he prefers them to be more chill and relaxing, just like he is most of the time. Being slow and more relaxed calms the anxiety that he has about always having to...perform well and allows him to just be himself.

(Yeah, sorry if that was a crappy ending on that one. I feel like some of these background Newsies are all starting to seem the same even if they're very different people.)

And last but not least....

-Henry plays the cello and takes it VERY SERIOUSLY. He's the kind of guy that people play to have Pachelbel's Canon in D at their wedding. Yeah, that's Henry. For some reason, holding half notes to him isn't super boring. He's very particular about his music and will really only play classical music (no seriously, he low-key scoffs at any of the boys who play jazz). He also practices for HOURS a day because he wants to be the best at what he does. Like the absolute best. He plays in nearly every orchestra that he can try out for and he tries to learn ambitious solos. He gets really cranky if he can't find a quiet place to practice in the Lodge where he KNOWS he won't be interrupted. The only people he will sometimes play music with is Davey or Elmer. They're and I quote "the only ones who appreciate classical music enough" (even though Mush, Finch, and Skittery also play classical music. He's tried playing with each of them before...and well. And yeah, don't even ask about Race.). He will sometimes even give both of them the stink eye just because they've been and I quote again "tainted by jazz". He chills out though once he starts playing his music. He just gets lost in it. He's the kind of guy who will talk about one gorgeous chord for a literal ten minutes (and I mean...he's not wrong because it is a beautiful chord.) and the other boys are just nodding their heads. Henry likes the cello because he can be precise and expressive. It allows him to be very present but still allows him to play in a way that is very precise and makes his style well voiced, much like he carries himself.

Alright that's the end.

PSYCH

I'm throwing in a bonus. Merry Christmas!

No actually, Merry Christmas! I'm writing this on Christmas.

Well parts of it, this has been a work in progress for months now but I think I'm finally finishing it. Hectic semester and all that.

-Mike and Ike play marimba and xylophone respectively (and yes, those are different instruments and no, don't tell them they're the same because they may actually fight you. If you really wanna know, ask Race.). They love to play songs together and bounce different rhythms and melodies off each other. They'll play just about anything and they absolutely love songs where they can just go crazy. They work together (periodically even their music wars against each other's but who does that surprise?) and despite their...occasional disagreements, have a ton of fun. The faster they play and the more energetic they can be, the more they feel like themselves. They love sometimes even switching instruments mid-song or playing one song on the same instruments. Their feats are unmatched by the other percussionists within the Lodge because they are 100% the legendary dynamic duo. They enjoy the energy that they get from playing their instruments and the joy that they get by playing together.

Alright, I'm done for real. Merry Christmas, you guys! Hope you have a wonderful day!

[corroded-hellfire]

I was wondering how different Lucas, Ryan and Eliza are all like when babies?

Was one more quiet as a baby? Did the other always loved running around more than the others? Who was the one that always needed to be held 24/7?

Oh, they all showed their personalities very early on…

Ryan was a quiet baby, was content to sit in his swing or any comfortable spot and watch Eddie go about his routine—because Eddie was constantly singing to him. The man was overdramatic with every lyric and danced around (which he would never do for anyone else) to amuse his son and Ryan was always the best audience. As he got older and started making more sounds and saying a few words, Ryan would try to hum or babble along softly to the words, always bringing a bright grin to Eddie’s face. He didn’t need to be held 24/7 but it was well known that it was Ryan’s preference to be cuddled as much as possible. The first time Ryan looked up at Eddie with those brown doe eyes of his, Eddie finally understood the affect his own eyes had. Once he started to walk, Ryan would follow Wayne around more than anyone. Grandpa is going to get something to eat in the kitchen? Ryan’s gonna check it out. Grandpa is helping Eddie fix something? Ryan’s gonna be right on his heels, watching every little move. Grandpa’s going outside for a smoke? Sorry Ryan, can’t go outside and follow. Which would always lead to a tantrum until his grandpa would come back in and scoop the little boy up in his arms. And the moment he becomes a big brother, Ryan becomes very protective over his baby bro.

Luke came into the world testing how loud his lungs and vocal chords would let him get, and not much has changed since. Luke was definitely a fussier baby than Ryan, demanding more stimulation to keep him occupied. When Luke was up, he left a trail of toys in his wake. His attention span never lasted particularly long on any specific toy, so he was always whining and looking for something new. If Luke wanted to be held, he wanted to be held now. But for the most part, he didn’t need to be held or cuddled nearly as much as Eddie wished he would. Except of course, when he got colicky. There were nights where Eddie would pace back and forth for hours with the baby because he just wouldn’t go to sleep. Part of Eddie liked that he got this time to hold his youngest son, just the two of them, as he tried to soothe him. But the other part just wanted Luke to feel better and the both of them to get much-needed sleep. As Luke got older, he would “sing” along to Eddie’s music all the time, no matter if he had the pitch or even the melody correct. He just liked to make as much noise as the guitars were. And when Luke learned how to walk? Oh boy, they needed to put a tracker on that kid. You turn your back for one second and Luke could be knee deep in unraveled toilet paper or trying to figure out how to climb up on the roof.

Eliza has the entire family wrapped around her little finger from the moment they lay eyes on her and she knows it. She’s a fairly quiet and calm baby as long as someone is paying attention to her. If she’s in her crib alone, awake, and no one is coming in to get her? The walls will shake from her wails. But if she’s feeling grumpy all it takes is one of her big brothers (especially Luke) to play with her and she’s giggling up a storm. And spoiled? Oh, she absolutely is. But never a spoiled brat. Well…maybe sometimes. There are a million ways Eliza is like her daddy, but none so much as with their stubbornness. The little girl is feisty and isn’t afraid to tussle with any of the older members of her family, learning how to throw herself onto her brothers and parents with her full weight before she even knows how to walk. And before she can talk, even Eliza’s baby babble has sass. A single quirk of her eyebrow or tilt of her head holds all the judgement of someone twenty years older than her. She’s a picky eater but Eddie defends her by saying she just knows what she likes. Who runs the Munson household? Eliza. From day one.

This was so much fun to think about, thank you for sending it in! 🥰

[gotham-witch]

So he walks the world alone

Tonight was the night. It was the first time Daxters teenage band had performed since they were in high school. They had gotten a gig at the Gotham Music festival to open for a more popular band. It had been a long time since Daxter had performed on a stage.

He was both the lead singer and the main guitarist. A friend of his named Philip was the keyboardist (he had to remember to introduce Philip the human to Philip the dog), another friend of theirs named Jamie was the keyboardist, and Jamie’s girlfriend Rey was their drummer. They had been practicing for months to make sure their act was perfect.

So when Daxter went onto that stage, he was confident.

His eyes immediately fell on his family. His mother, his sister, his brother, and his fiance, who had a camera in his hand to stream it to their boyfriend. His smile fell when his eyes landed on his father. He just had to come. Whatever. He heard the music start from his band. He tapped his foot to keep time before he started playing with them, and then beginning to sing the lyrics.

“Eight years old and he’s kicking and screaming

I’ll only go to school if you give a reason

The kids are really mean and I already know all the things they’re teaching”

He swore he could hear Kam say ‘so true’ or something along those lines from the stage. It almost made him laugh, and he got even closer to chuckling when he clearly heard Hecate mutter ‘period’. The camera surely picked up both of those sentences.

“Hopped in the car, mama let him play hookey

Missed the first hour just to get a cup of coffee

She’s the only one who saw who he was

No one else could read him”

He glanced at his mother in the crowd, who was giving him a proud smile. He smiled back at her. Anyone who knew him knew that his mother was the person who he loved the most. That woman always made him smile, and he’d protect her with his life.

“Showing up late but he makes it to class

Just to stare out the window and the clock in the back

He daydreamed away to a sky so gray

Everything’s simple, it’s driving him mental.”

It truly was that way for Daxter when he was younger. A small kid in Amity and only a slightly bigger kid in Gotham. Everything was too simple for him. School was boring to him. And the constant callings of “fag” down the hall didn’t make things better.

“Wishing everyday that something would change

Instead his dad makes him play ball by the bay

And every time he cries, father rolls his eyes, saying

‘Son, it's all your fault, how come you never try?’”

His eyes landed directly on his father while he spoke those words. He still wasn’t sure if his father was genuinely feeling the regret that was broadcasted on his face. Bens cameras probably picked up whatever small apology left his lips.

“He does all that he should

Why is he misunderstood?”

Daxters hand fell onto the guitar strings again to prepare for the chorus.

“This is a story 'bout a broken boy

With his headphones in just to block out the noise

Of everyone around him telling him the way to go

So he walks the world alone

Wondering if it gets better

Or if he's always gonna feel empty forever

So he gets lost tryna find another way back home

As he walks the world alone”

Daxter was used to singing his heart out when it came to these songs. Deep. Emotional. But still screamers. This next verse was extremely personal to him.

“Fifteen years and he's drowning his sorrows

Smoking weed, drinking cheap liquor out the bottle

With a bunch of fake friends 'cause he tried to fit in

But it wasn't working”

Daxter had always had a problem with cigarettes. He had been clean for about two years at this point, having quit when he was eighteen. As a teenager, he also experimented with booze and drugs. Those he got out of his system a bit quicker, but they still fucked him up

“Ran in with the law 'bout a dozen of times

Nothing too bad, just a few suburban crimes

Still he says to himself

‘What are you doing, you don't deserve this’”

Carol looked a bit down at that verse, and he knew why. She had a pretty extensive crime record from her days as a teenager. They had that in common. They were angry, sad, and violence and breaking the law were the only ways they knew to get it out.

“Don't you know nobody will ever understand

The person that you are, learn to hold your own hand”

Daxter uttered the words that were told to him by his own father when he was six. He had told those words to Kam when he was a child, and he regretted it deeply.

“Get your shit together and lose the weight

You'll never be what you want, no, not with that face”

‘Lose the weight’. Daxter hated when he was told those words. He saw Hecates hands anxiously clutch their dress. Oh the fat shaming both him and his sister had been put through by kids…

“He started writing all of his thoughts on paper

Realized music made life so much greater

A hundred pounds down, he looks so different now

As he plans his escape from a crooked hometown”

He really did plan his escape. Even if their escape from Amity wasn’t how any of them planned it, it was still an escape. Music was a great part of his life, one he had pushed aside until recently.

“He does all that he should

Why is he misunderstood?

This is a story 'bout a broken boy

With his headphones in just to block out the noise

Of everyone around him telling him the way to go

So he walks the world alone

Wondering if it gets better

Or if he's always gonna feel empty forever

So he gets lost tryna find another way back home

As he walks the world alone”

It had been a long time since Daxter sang like this. Usually he only sang lullabies to his kids. Speaking of his kids, he looked over to see Ida and Markus in the crowd, Ida on Julia’s lap and Markus on Carols. He went from a drug-addicted law breaking teen to a proud father of two with a fiancé and a boyfriend. He felt tears crowding his eyes.

“Twenty-one years and he's on the right path

But sometimes he wonders if he grew up too fast

And missed out on the little things

All of the little things”

Daxter knew there was much to his childhood that he didn’t really get to experiment because of Amity. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on it. He wiped a few tears from his eyes, even as a few let loose.

“Who is he kidding? Surely not himself

But sometimes he wonders if there's somebody else

Who takes the same road, but he'll never know

'Cause he walks the world ALONE”

He knew there was somebody else. He could already see Hecate and Kam verging on the same path as him. He’d try and help them both out as much as he could. He swore to himself.

“This is a story 'bout a broken boy

With his headphones in just to block out the noise

Of everyone around him telling him the way to go

So he walks the world alone

Wondering if it gets better

OR AM I ALWAYS GONNA FEEL EMPTY FOREVER”

Daxter scream-sang that part, tears flowing freely down his cheeks at this point. He didn’t care enough to hold them back, nor could he with how focused he still was on both singing and shredding.

“So he gets lost tryna find another way back home

As he walks the world alone

Alone (does it get better, does it get better?)

Alone

As he walks the world alone

Alone

Alone (so alone)

Yeah, he walks the world alone”

Daxter concluded the song with a final riff after he sung the last line, a few seconds of silence following before the applause started rolling in. Daxter grinned, wiping sweat off his brow before grabbing the mic.

“Thank you for having us at Gotham music festival! That song has always been deeply personal to me, as my family and friends know. So, very quickly, I want to give a shout-out to the special people in my life!”

He looked down at the front row to his family, his eyes looking across the row while he spoke.

“To my mama, I’m glad I finally got the chance to make you proud. To my auntie Carol, thank you for always being there. To my baby sister Hecate, I don’t care if you’re almost eighteen, you’re a baby to me, and I’ll always love you. To my little brother Kam, keep being awesome buddy. To my daughter Ida, you’re such a smart girl and I’m so proud of you. To my son Markus, I’m proud of you as well and the amazing man you’re becoming. To my fiancé Ben, I love you so much, and thank you for being there for me.”

His eyes skipped over his father. He didn’t care much for him. Why should he? He had very few memories of him, and those few memories weren’t good ones. He looked directly at Ben’s camera, blowing it a kiss.

“And to my boyfriend Derek. I love ya so much! Sad you couldn’t be here tonight, but I know you’re here in spirit! Thank you again Gotham! Who knows, maybe next year we’ll have our own time slot! One can only dream, right?”

Daxter gave that one last joke, before he had his band bowed to the audience and walked off to the backstage area.

[katrinawritesthings]

jinki / jonghyun ; glitter glow ; pg

so like au where Jonghyun is an elf with glittery skin and a little bit of a local celebrity for his music and Jinx is the human doctor mage that stops by his house every night to help him sleep through his insomnia

“I saw some of your show today,” he says. Jonghyun pauses in the middle of reaching down for his hot mug of tea, looking at Jinki over his shoulder. The natural glitter spots on his golden skin glow a little pink, just for a second.

“Did you?” he asks, shyly, curiously, lifting his mug to take a sip.

Fireflies flit around Jinki's head as he makes his way down the cobbled road, his horse leisurely carrying him along. They make a turn off of the main city road and pass by houses and shops, all familiar to him for one reason or another, be it from purchasing supplies or visiting for his own work, until the carefully laid out path transitions into a small dirt dirt road. From there, it's all the way to the end of the fence, another turn, and then one, two, three, four little stone cottages until he reaches Jonghyun.

Windows glowing with light, chimney smoke only visible against the night sky because of how it covers up a wispy trail of stars, and, if Jinki listens hard enough, a soft voice carrying a tune from all the way around the back of the house.

That's where Jinki goes after dismounting from his horse, patting her gently and tethering her to the fence in front of the house. He makes his way along the fence, squeezing himself between it on his right and the neighbors fence on his left, until he gets to the back and finds Jonghyun where he always is. Behind bushes laden with berries and planter boxes growing new crops, sitting on his swinging bench next to the back door, eyes fixed on the stars, Roo curled up in his lap. A steaming mug next to him. Fuzzy pajamas and thick socks on his feet. A sleep mask around his neck. Singing a soft song about nothing. No words even, just emotions.

“Good evening, Jonghyun,” Jinki calls softly. Just loud enough to be heard, for Jonghyun to notice him. When Jonghyun does, he smiles, his pointy elf ears perking up under silver white hair.

“Hi Jinki,” he says. Gently picking up his puppy in one arm, he carries her to the back gate to let Jinki in. For an elf, he's pretty short, so when their eyes meet for just a moment, Jinki only has to look up maybe an inch or two. Close enough to see the golden star-shaped blotch in his left brown iris. Jinki has it memorized but it's always nice to see it in person every night.

“How did you sleep last night?” he asks as he closes the gate behind him. Jonghyun makes a shrugging kind of noise, turning carefully so as to not disturb Roo and walking back to the house.

“Okay,” he says. “I woke up once, but fell asleep pretty quick after.” Jinki hums in affirmation. That's good, then. He's been having a weird week, what with preparing for his show and everything. At least now that that's over he can try to get back into his schedule again.

“I saw some of your show today,” he says. Jonghyun pauses in the middle of reaching down for his hot mug of tea, looking at Jinki over his shoulder. The natural glitter spots on his golden skin glow a little pink, just for a second.

“Did you?” he asks, shyly, curiously, lifting his mug to take a sip. Jinki nods. Not a whole lot; he was making his rounds around town, doing all of his other house calls, but every time he passed the midtown amphitheater he saw Jonghyun down there, center stage. Singing soft and gentle, rough and aggressive, smooth and seductive. Strumming away at his guitar with just his fingers, no pick. Pouring his soul out into the crowd around him, hoping they would pick it up and use it to better themselves, their lives, at the very least, their moods.

“I did,” Jinki affirms. “You sounded really incredible. I'm actually surprised I didn't run into anyone else around your fence tonight.” Usually in the days following one of Jonghyun's shows, rude and invasive fans like to gather around his house and bother him for more time than he's consented to give them.

“Oh, yeah,” Jonghyun says. He glances to his fence gate as if to make sure it's really deserted before he moves to his back door and opens it, standing aside to let Jinki in. “I finally got some good protection spells that actually work. Anyone that I don't want coming in just, you know, forgets why they came down here in the first place and turns back around.” he sips his tea again as Jinki nods sympathetically. He wants to mention something about it being awful that Jonghyun has to do that, but he's here to be soothing and relieve stress, so he doesn't.

“I'm glad that I'm not in that crowd, then,” is what he says instead, smiling, tilting his head. Jonghyun smiles back, eyes turning into little crescents, as he leans on the door behind him to close it.

“Of course,” he says softly.

They leave the little entrance hallway, heaping coat rack and orderly little piles of shoes, and enter the kitchen. Jonghyun's mom is in there, sat at the table, carving one of her little wooden sculptures under one of her floating balls of magical light. She looks up when they enter, finding Jinki and smiling.

“Hello, doctor,” she says. “Is it bedtime already?” she asks.

“Mmhmm,” Jinki hums. “Same time every night,” he says. “Especially after a big day like this.”

“Yes, yes, did you see him at his show today? My pretty baby?” she asks. Her glitter glows white with pride as she reaches out and pats Jonghyun on the waist. Jonghyun is smiling into his mug as he downs the rest of his tea over the kitchen sink. Jinki can tell. But it's not until Jinki says, “Yes ma'am. He was gorgeous,” and Jonghyun catches his eye that Jonghyun’s glitter lights up pink again. Placing his mug into the sink and filling it up with water, Jonghyun now cradles Roo with both arms. Turning around and bending down, he kisses his mother on the cheek.

“Night Mom,” he says in his softest voice. Looking up, he adds, “Jinki? Come on.”

So Jinki comes on, smiling good night to Jonghyun's mother and following him down a separate hallway to his bedroom.

He's chosen to light his dark pink candles tonight, Jinki notes as they walk in. Two small ones on his dresser, one medium one on the headboard of his bed, all smelling like almost sickly-sweet flowers and soap before it gets wet. As Jonghyun gets into bed, pulling the covers over himself and gently placing Roo on his tummy, Jinki takes it upon himself to put out the two candles on his dresser without having to be asked. When he does it with magic, Jonghyun always says, there isn't any smoke.

When he's done, he walks to Jonghyun's bedside, first putting out the candle on his headboard and then sitting down on the chair next to his pillows. Jonghyun's mother made it especially for him ever since he started making these nightly visits to help Jonghyun sleep. The only light that illuminates the room now comes from the moon shining through the window, the faint orange magical glow that comes from the delicately carved wooden night light on Jonghyun's headboard.

“Comfy?” Jinki asks, reaching down to fix the edge of Jonghyun's blankets. Jonghyun, in his usual sleeping position on his back with one arm raised over his head under his pillow and his other arm bent to rest a hand on Roo's back, nods.

“Thanks for always coming here to do this for me, Jinki,” he says. “I know it's-- more than what you do for most of your other patients.”

“Oh,” Jinki says, because that's all he can think of to say in response to that. Whenever he makes a house call to Jonghyun, everything always feels sleepy and slow, warm and relaxed, and this moment is no different, but still, that felt sudden. Like a sudden thing to just say unprompted. “Well,” he says, “you don't have to mention it. it's not a big deal.” he reaches over to push Jonghyun's bangs out of his eyes, tug gently on the strap of his sleep mask to remind him to pull it up to his forehead.

“If I didn't want to do this, then I wouldn't be here,” he shrugs. It's as simple as that. “I don't charge for my services or anything. I see and treat people because I want to.and different people need different things. What you need is help falling asleep every night, so that's just part of your treatment. It's not special attention or anything.” Just the help that he deserves. That's really all there is to it. He doesn't need any extra thanks for just doing his job the best way he can. He smiles his best reassuring doctor smile, and when Jonghyun’s lips quirk up into a little smile themselves, he feels it in his heart.

“Yeah, well,” Jonghyun says. He one handedly pulls his sleep mask around each ear, letting it rest on top of his bangs. “Thanks. And-- Jinki?”

He says Jinki's name quickly, even more suddenly, eyes big and shiny in the dim light. But he hesitates after that, not saying anything further, biting his lip and looking down. He puts his hand on Roo and pets her gently, looking at her instead of Jinki. “Do you... Would-- would you.”

Jinki has never really seen him like this; hesitant and faltering. Usually he's sleepy and sweet at home, alert and comfortable in Jinki's office, passionate and energetic on stage. He touches Jonghyun's shoulder gently, concerned.

“Yes?” he asks. “You can tell me.” Whatever it is, Jinki won't judge him or anything. He's not that kind of person.

Jonghyun looks at him again, hesitantly, through his lashes. He falters for another few moments, then licks his lips, swallows, takes a deep breath.

Then, his breath seems to catch in his throat. His glitter flashes a pale mint green-- a color Jinki has never seen on him before. He just exhales that breath instead, heavy and long. He shakes his head as it goes, and an embarrassed smile creeps onto his lips.

“It's nothing,” he says. “forget about it.” Jinki doesn't believe him when he says it's nothing, but he does obey him when he says to forget about it. And when Jonghyun adds, “Cast the spell, please?” he obeys that too without hesitation.

“Eyes,” he says, tapping the corner of Jonghyun's left eye, his star blotch eye, with one finger.

“Eyes,” Jonghyun repeats, closing them obediently. His lashes fan out over his cheeks, soft, pretty.

“Breathing,” Jinki instructs, dropping his voice to a low, soothing murmur.

“Breathing,” Jonghyun repeats, the word half a breath itself. He breathes in slow through his nose, slower out through his slightly parted lips. His thumb rubs slowly over Roo’s back as she rises up and down with his breathing. Jinki pushes his own fingers through Jonghyun's hair, petting him gently, slowly, the way he likes, before he takes his own deep breath and starts to sing.

When Jonghyun sings, it's for fun, for entertainment, for passion. When Jinki sings, it's for magic. As he sings, he feels it building up inside of him, starting in his lungs, resonating through his vocal cords. It's just a soft lullaby, a simple one, but one of Jonghyun's favorites. He lets the magic fill him up, just like always, until he can shape it and form it into a sleeping spell and release it as he wishes.

He lets it go mostly through the hand petting through Jonghyun's hair, but lets a little of it hover over the air above him, so even after he leaves the magic will sink down and absorb into him for a little while longer. Not a whole lot; Jonghyun doesn't like to be put out for the whole night. He just likes the help falling asleep. But Jinki knows that as soon as he does fall asleep, Roo likes to get up and go snuggle with his sister or his mom instead, and oftentimes, her getting off of him wakes him up again. Jinki leaves just enough magic over him to keep him asleep until after that happens.

By the time he finishes his lullaby, Jonghyun is asleep. Jinki can tell by the little things: his thumb has stopped moving on Roo’s back, his eyelids are relaxed instead of slightly scrunched with the effort of keeping them shut, his mouth closes and his head lolls a little to the side as his breathing evens out through his nose. Jinki smiles, proud, pleased. He pulls Jonghyun's sleep mask down over his eyes for him, gives Roo a soft little pet on her head, and stands up to leave.

~

The next morning, Jinki is enjoying a nice coffee and donut breakfast at his favorite little bakery in town when he glances up at the jingle of the door opening and finds Jonghyun walking in, arm around his sister's shoulders. Jonghyun glances around the place casually as they walk to the counter and does a double take when he spots Jinki. His glitter flashes red, just for a second, showing his surprise. Jinki smiles and waves, always happy to see him.

Jonghyun waves back, three fingers, smile pulling far more to one side of his face than the other. Then, it's Jinki's turn to be surprised as Jonghyun quickly turns and says something to his sister, kisses her on the cheek, and then turns back and walks up to Jinki's little table.

“Hi Jinki,” he says brightly.

“Morning,” Jinki says back. He's a little confused but mostly just happy that Jonghyun has come over to talk to him. “How did you sleep?” he asks.

“Oh, great, actually, really really well,” Jonghyun smiles. He puts one hand on Jinki's table, the other hand on his hip. His glitter very faintly glows a soft golden, the color it usually is when he's onstage, confident and sure of himself. “And, hey, speaking of last night,” he says. He hesitates, looks down, licks his lips, looks back up. “Remember when-- I kind of wanted to ask you something?” he asks.

“I do,” Jinki says, curious. He thought about it all night, until he went to sleep himself. This seems like a remarkably quick turnaround from “it's nothing, forget it” to “actually, I do want to talk about it.” “Have you decided that it isn't nothing after all?” he asks. Jonghyun's glitter flashes pink, then green again, which Jinki does feel a little guilty about, but before long he's back two glowing golden again.

“I have,” he confirms. “I wanted to-- I want to-- I've been wanting to-- that is to say, I mean. Not, like. If you-- I mean-- gosh.” he covers his eyes with his hand, one of his embarrassed gestures that Jinki has come to grow very fond of. “I had this planned out so much better in my head,” he says, pushing his fingers through his hair instead, smile sheepish. “Last night and this morning. Two different confessions, and now I've messed them both up.”

“Confessions?” Jinki asks, very intrigued. Out of everything that he was thinking, a confession was very low on the list. Not a confession from someone like Jonghyun, someone so confident and flirty and outgoing, someone so attached to his privacy and quiet time and family life. He was expecting a request for therapy. a favor. Maybe permission to refer a friend to Jinki's services. Definitely not a confession. But still, as soon as he asks the question, Jonghyun's eyes go wide, his hand covers his mouth like he didn't mean to actually say the word, his glitter glows the most vibrant and sparkling pink that Jinki has ever seen.

“Um,” he says, muffled behind his hand, and then he just covers his whole face with both hands. “Gosh. Damn it. Whatever. Yes,” he says. He looks up from his hands and his glitter isn't glowing any color anymore, but his face is pouting, a slight puff to his lower lip that is incredibly adorable. “I want to-- Jinki,” he says. He looks down again but only for a second this time before he looks up and takes a step closer. “Would you want to-- maybe sometime-- go on a date with me?” He asks hopefully.

And even though Jinki could already tell that that's what Jonghyun was going to ask him, when he actually does, it still catches him off guard. He doesn't have glitter embedded in his skin, but he can still feel his human cheeks flushing, filling with color. Frick. Still, he manages to keep his cool almost as well as Jonghyun does, smiling a lot wider to cover up his embarrassment and only nervously playing with his fingers under the table.

He hasn't really thought about dating in a while-- he's so busy, and he likes having his own place all to himself. He's not exactly aromantic, but he's not exactly alloromantic, either, so it's never really been high on his list of priorities. and he never really saw Jonghyun as the type to get a crush on anyone. Not when he flirts with everyone but only says I love you to his mom and sister and puppy.

But he can't deny that his nightly visits to spend time with Jonghyun are some of his favorite parts of his days. That he thinks Jonghyun is very attractive, from a personality standpoint and from a face standpoint. Admirable, fun to be around, easy to have a serious conversation with.

And maybe Jonghyun feels the same way. Maybe Jonghyun, at some point, during one of their sleepy nights, started feeling a shift in his emotions. Maybe it was when he started asking Jinki to put out his candles for him. Maybe it was when he told Jinki to start coming around the back of the house instead of knocking on the front door. Maybe it was when his mom carved him that chair. Maybe it was when he got his new protection spells and made sure to include Jinki in the list of people that could pass through them.

Maybe, on their date, Jonghyun will tell him.

[souichieatr]

wanna be yours, ch2

suna x freader , foxy boy

where in which two opposites fall in love

a/n: for everyone who commented on the posts youve been added sorry i cant reply <//3 if you're interested in being in the taglist send me an ask, i was thinking of making a playlist for the au would anyone be interested? lmk !! sorry if there are any mistakes or if its bad this is my first writing <3

ch1. this voice im hearing rn? , hey bestie

word count: 2,090

the first song- The Ghost of You- my chemical romance

second song- I Bet on Losing dogs- mitski

third song- Crybaby- destroy boys

pocketing her phone after reading tendous message, she opens the door waving to a couple friends and offers friendly smile taking her seat. a pair of pale green eyes follow her. after yesterday suna did a little research about her y/n y/l/n the bassist and youngest in the band called 4u, she has quite a big following on twitter, she's really nice and interacts with the fans. looking at her now you can't imagine her on stage suna thought. breaking away from his thoughts as the teacher walks in. spouting for about what feels like hours and the students taking notes, finally lunch approaches. y/n jumps from her seat grabbing her case she walks to the third year hallway. waving to her friends they walk to her, tendou wrapping his arms around her “y/n!!!!!! i missed you” laughing as she hugged him back “tendou!!! i missed you toooo.” she turns to the grey haired male, “semisemi!!” she says giving him a hug, he rolls his eyes and hugs her back “and ushi!!” she turns to the brunette to which he pats her head “good afternoon y/n.” as they go to the lunch room to grab their lunch, they walk to one of the music rooms they usually occupy. a beep from her phone grabs her attention seeing her friend atsumu asking if him his twin and their friend can join for lunch, “hey guys you dont mind if atsumu and his friends come join us?” she says setting down her case against the wall. “nah you can invite them, atsumu is our biggest hype man” tendou says, grabbing his drum sticks from his back pocket. texting him its cool she goes to unzip her bass. “oh ms lady ive missed you” she says hugging the instrument, “i can't believe you two and always wanting to play, dont yall have any other hobby?” semi says, grabbing the schools given guitar setting the speaker up for y/n. tendou gives a scoff “semisemi dont act like you hate hearing us play i see you listening to our covers alllll the timeeeee” he says “yeah semi besides we have a concert soon and it wouldnt be bad to have an audience” y/n says walking to semi to connect her bass to the speaker when the door opens, entering is atsumu in the middle, osamu on his left, and a mystery guy in the back. setting her bass down running up to the blond “tsumu!!” giving him a hug “y/n!!” he hugs her back, she waves to osamu, who shes met on an occasion. looking towards the dark haired guy she walks up to him, noticing shes seen him somewhere. “youre suna right? we're in the same class?” she says giving him a hand and a awkward smile, nodding at her words. “hope its okay im here” he says taking her hand giving a slight shake. “nah dont worry its nice to have a different face, seeing tsumu is getting boring” turning around to the male. “what she means to say is we could use practice in front of new people” the grey haired male says giving a small laugh when tendou scoffs at him, both guys walking towards the small group. “this is semi and this is tendou” she says introducing them. when the introductions are over the two males go back to setting up, y/n walks the newcomers to the sitting area “here you guys can sit, im sure you all know ushijima” on hearing his name he looks up from his name giving a small head bow. they all sit “any recommendations tsumu?” y/n says walking to her bass making sure everything was good, looking towards the small group. “y/n you know my favorites” atsumu says stealing one of his brothers onigiri. y/n laughs and rolls her eyes, turning to tendou “anything you wanna try tori?” tendou looks at her with a smile “y/n lets show semi whatweve been working on” hearing this semi looked at them “what do you guys mean? what did you two do” y/n chuckles at the grey hairs doubtful expression “mr semisemi you know your favorite mcr song” when she sees him nod she continues “me and tori learned it” she says pushing him lightly. semi looked at her with wide eyes then at tendou, looking at semi tendou flicked his drum stick between his fingers with a nod. “wow semi cant believe you, we spent so much hours perfecting a my chemical romance for your sap self and he doesn't believe us y/nie i might

” tendou says fake sniffing. the little group in the back beyond confused, atsumu clearing his throat “have you three forgotten us already, wheres our show” ushijima nodding his head “yeah why are you guys being so vague” tendou snickers “dont worry you three and wakatoshi we have decided to play a new song or well cover i should say” “yeah and its semi’s favorite band you know the one that he wears on his shirts?” ushijima looking towards the girl after hearing her statement he nods. “okay can we play now ive been waiting to show my skills and get our lovely semi's opinion” y/n says removing her pick, both boys giving a ‘yeah’. finally tendou does the countdown. suna looks at all three of them with slight excitement in his stomach, ‘is this a new song im going to hear?’ before he could think of anything else, semi started playing a few chords by himself and y/n starting to add her own strums then tendou adding drums. sunas eyes widen at how well all the sounds blended together, freezing in his spot when semi started singing, when hitting the chorus y/n joins him. suna looking at her, he felt like he had been put in a trance, feeling like theres a spotlight on her when she starts nodding her head seeing her tongue sticking out when stringing the instrument. towards the end you can see y/n lose focus and her eye twitches, ending the song she sighs. “hey sorry about the end” waving to the guys to her left with a frown. hearing applause from the group the frown doesnt last long. “WHOOO!!!!! THAT WAS MY BESTIES GO SEMI! GO TENDOU! GO Y/N!!” atsumu gets up and yells. “that was so good what the hell that was yer first time too?” he says going up to the group, high-fiving y/n. “i mean me and tendou practiced together but semi basically has every song by them memorized but together? yeah our first.” tendou getting up to get his water that was next to ushijima. semi joining the fake blond and the girl, patting her on her back “that was a good first for us i can tell you and tendou worked hard, we're definitely adding it to the set list.” getting a laugh from both of them semi walks to the small group. “hey man that was really good, you have a nice voice” suna says as semi approaches, semi turned to him surprised “oh thank you im glad you enjoyed, do you listen to our stuff?” he says taking a seat next to him. “ive recently just started, i hope that doesnt sound too weird” the dark haired suddenly getting a little embarrassed, chuckling “its not weird i promise, well its good you listen to us or im sure it would've been awkward to just be here” nodding along to what he said. tendou going back to the drums “are you cowards tapping out now?” “COWARDS?!?!” y/n yells back turning around “i am no coward tendou satori i'll make you eat those words semi get over here” she said grabbing semis attention and shooing atsumu back to his seat. chuckling as he sat back down, turning to suna “howd ya like em? theyre good huh?” suna rolling his eyes “im not going to help inflate your ego tsumu” “yeah tsumu yer big ego is not cute” gasping to their remarks “you guys are so mean to me, i introduce you to nice music and even the artists and this is the thanks i get” before any could respond tendou starts clicking his sticks. starting this one is tendou with a slower sound, y/n entering second then semi with vocals. y/n leans down to mess with something by her foot turning a notch noises like static come out adding to the music, coming up fast she starts adding her vocals complimenting semis. pressing on the box she leans down as more noises come out. atsumu leans over to sunas ear “thats a pedal that holds other sounds and can help stretch other sounds” suna giving him a nod. towards the end y/n reaches down to the pedal again adding a distorted sound before adding her last bit of ‘oohs’ before the song ends. everyone clapping as the members stay still for s bit before y/n dramatically bows “youre so welcome lovely audience” she says blowing kisses to them, laughing at her atsumu jumps up and down pretending to be a crazy fan “oh y/n you were so go

od i love you y/n!!!” y/n laughing at him. “hey atsumu what about me!” tendou asks swinging his hand “howd i do?” “oh tendou you were so good, i love you too tendou!!!” he says swinging his arm back. tendou satisfied with his response nods his head, “and with that lets play one more i still want time to actually eat before we play again later.” “yeah lets try ‘crybaby’ we haven't done that in awhile” semi says getting in position.“remember y/n you do the verses” y/n nods clearing her throat “go tori” she says and tendou starts the counting again. starting the counting fast he gets one beat then y/n starts off with singing, swinging her bass back she grabs the mic. suna cracks a smile nodding his head a little as he remembers this song on their youtube, atsumu whistling when y/n dips down her mic as she sings, letting the boys have a solo in between verses she bobs her head. the last few seconds of the song she swings the instrument back as she steps on the pedal creating feedback, as semi goes to vocals she starts getting a solo with tendou playing, y/n leans forward and her and semi sing the rest of the song. after the last note they all look out of breath. clapping for them again letting them catch their breath, y/n starts laughing “i forget how hard that song is towards the end” laughing with her tendou nods “its literally the last 50 seconds that get the hardest” “alright lets clean up” semi says laughing at both of their bored looks they send him. finishing up they all go to the group whove are talking among themselves. sighing as she sits y/n takes the seat next to suna, “so howd you like the songs?” she says with a smile “they were good though i only recognized the last one” he replies, “tsumu told me you started listening to us recently so i thought or well semi thought wed show off a bit with our best song being that” she says with a smile grabbing her bottle. a small smile appears on his face “oh hey tsumu told me youre like really good in your classes and i really need help in history and since we have that group project coming up do you wanna pair up?” she says setting her bottle down grabbing a bag of chips. “yeah i dont mind as long as you actually do something and i can help you study if your grade is that bad” he says. “thatd actually help me out a lot i really appreciate it” she lets a breath out. after that the two spent all lunch just talking, the conversation coming easy for both of them. hearing the bell ring y/n hugs her friends and walks with suna to their class, pairing up in the project the teacher had given them in their period. after class before y/n rushed out she passed him her number with a wink “text me for the deets foxy boy.” ‘foxy boy? suna thought to himself shaking his head texting her with a simple ‘hey its suna’ and heading home.

facts !

during lunch when suna and y/n we're talking the followed each other on twitter

semi was really touched they learned the mcr song

the 4u concert is at a small venue but no one really cares about the other groups going there

osamu and atsumu almost started fighting over the onigiri until suna said something about ushijima being right there

atsumu was watching suna and y/n talking

osamu actually really enjoyed being there during lunch

—taglist

@applekenm , @xhanjisungiex , @astronomyturtle , @sirachano0dles , @yn-tingz , @killmepls-uwu , @bakugouswh0r3

[fleeting-queen-of-pepperland]

Yardbirds Of A Feather

Robert Plant x Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 3K 

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

Ethereal.

That was the only word that could nearly encompass Robert as he dominated the stage with his presence; his arms moving delicately in the air, his back arching through the higher notes, and the way he interacted with the audience as the music seemed to flow through him with every step he took across the stage. 

Seeing him from such a short distance almost felt like a religious experience. 

You smiled and leaned against one of the walls, hidden backstage in what felt like your own V.I.P spot. You had been a roadie for the band for nearly four years. Getting to know the rest of the boys and being talked into into their alcohol fueled misadventures more times than you’d care to admit had been one hell of a ride, and no matter how crazy, hectic and challenging that lifestyle had proven to be, you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. 

Well, perhaps for one thing only. Something related to the curly-haired frontman who covertly turned to look your way and smiled goofily before turning to the roaring audience once more and lifting his arms. 

Robert and you had the best of friends since you were teenagers. After your family moved next door to his, it didn’t take long for him to come up to you one afternoon and interrogate you about your taste in music after claiming to have overheard Elvis Presley music coming from your room, in that extroverted and friendly way you had grown accustomed to. On the other hand, your first instinct was to bashfully blush and apologize for the noise. Since then, you had become practically inseparable. 

Despite your noticeably different personalities, Robert had a knack for reading people, and he knew it was just a matter of time until you came out of your shell. It only took one year of innumerable afternoons at either one’s house, the park, or all the local pubs; talking music, films, or literally anything. By now you were certain you knew each other better than nearly anyone else, and Robert was one of the few people you were a completely different person around, shedding that taciturn and somewhat reserved layer.

However, as time went by, you began to realize your feelings towards him had begun to change, without knowing exactly when or how. 

Suddenly, you’d feel especially tense and even coy when he did things such as putting his arm around you or playfully throwing you over his shoulders to carry you around; things you didn’t use to mind. At least not as much. You were no fool. Of course you knew what it meant and, moreover, you were aware of the consequences romantic feelings could have on your friendship, so you had decided you wouldn’t risk it. You’d wait until the strain you felt in your chest whenever he leaned in too close and the subconscious smile that crept onto your cheeks at the first sight of him in the morning disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. 

However, back in the present, it wasn’t until he threw you a questioning look that you realized your eyes had been on him all along, even in the middle of Jimmy’s guitar solo that had the crowd going absolutely mad. Literally everyone in the venue, even some other roadies that stood next to you had their eyes fixed on Jimmy as his fingers strummed the chords of his guitar with dexterity. Everyone but you. 

“Shit”, you thought as you attempted to smile nonchalantly, waving at him awkwardly before retreating behind the stage, putting your hand over your eyes in a chagrined manner. 

You nearly crashed into Gage, a fellow roadie who was laboriously pushing one of the cases in which the equipment was stored. 

“Hey,” he greeted “Is everything alright?” 

You nodded and got behind the massive black rectangle, next to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where do you want this?” 

He gestured towards the spot through which the band would be coming through when the concert was over, and both of you began pushing. By the time you got there, both of you were sweating. Fun aside, being a roadie was also exhausting. 

You reached your meant destination as Robert’s voice resounded through the venue and reached your ears.  

“I want to thank each and all of you for being here tonight! We love you, and good night!”

The multitude cheered, mixed exclamations of excitement and desolation for the end of such a wonderful show filled the air for several more minutes. 

You reached out your arms as the boys strode off the stage and made their way to the back while still waving at the crowd. 

Jimmy smiled at you and placed his guitar on your hands before receiving a paper cup filled with something that probably wasn’t water from another roadie.  

“Thanks, Y/n.” he said before pouring the contents of the cup down his throat. 

“Great job, guys,” You said, smiling kindly at Jimmy and nodding at Bonzo and John as they walked by. Then you turned your attention to Robert, who seemed to be ready to engulf you in a sweaty hug as he often did after his shows. 

However, this time he didn’t. 

Instead, he seemed to catch himself and pulled his arms back before patting you on the back with a smile before walking towards his band mates. 

Well, that was odd. He probably thought you hadn’t noticed, but you could definitely see him change his mind mid-second and decide otherwise hugging you. 

A new, frightening possibility invaded your mind as you carefully placed Jimmy’s guitar back in its case and left it with the rest of the equipment. 

“Was I too obvious?” You internally wondered, “Oh god. He knows. He definitely knows and he feels uncomfortable around me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head sternly, decidedly putting a halt to your anxious, overthinking brain. Robert couldn’t possibly know. He hadn’t said or implied anything, and you had made sure to hide your infatuation as best as you could. 

“Hey, Y/n!” Bonzo yelled, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts. “We’re heading down to the pub, you coming?” 

You turned to Robert, who was busy lighting a cigarette and didn’t look up. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself, that brief moment of panic had made you feel paranoid, and you decided it was better to call it a night and not hang around Robert in that state, so jittery that it could be obvious something was up with you, and you weren’t a good enough liar as to take that risk, let alone with a couple of beers in you. 

On the other hand, you always went to the pub with them. You couldn’t just decline and expect none of them to think it was odd. 

“No, sorry. Not tonight, I’m…not feeling well.” you quickly put an excuse together and even cleared your throat a little so it was believable. 

“Oh, come on,” John protested, “You showed up to work, didn’t you? You’re fine!”

“I came to work because I love you guys,” you said with a soft chuckle, your eyes unconsciously drifting to the still oblivious Robert. Good lord, even that innocent phrase made your stomach churn. This was bad. “I just need to lay down. I’ll be as good as new tomorrow, I promise”

“Alright, see you tomorrow, Y/n.” John said disheartenedly before walking away, Jimmy and Bonzo following after saying their goodbyes to you. 

And so, you went to grab your things, relieved that your excuse had actually worked and you’d be able to walk out without raising suspicion. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A voice behind you said apprehensively. Your body stiffened and you made your best effort to casually turn around, lifting your closed fist up to your mouth and faking another cough as you nodded. 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you said with a smile. Robert didn’t return it. The blond singer just stared at you up and down, his lips pursed in a concerned grin. 

“Okay,” he finally said before nodding and going after the others, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The moment he disappeared behind the corner, you released a long, shaky breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

You sighed as you threw your key in the bowl next to the entrance before closing the door behind you. However small and hideously furnished, at the moment that hotel room was the coziest, safest place on Earth. 

You looked inside the mini fridge in search of something to drink, finding only a couple of beer cans. You shrugged as you took one and opened it, a pleasant fizzing sound emerging from it as your made your way to the couch before turning on the television, even though you knew you probably wouldn’t pay any attention to it. Robert’s odd attitude had planted a seed of uncertainty in your heart, and you were seriously struggling to pay it no mind.

“Alright,” a soft, tentatively hopeful voice in your brain whispered. “but what if he does feel the same way?” 

You even shook your head at the possibility. Or impossibility, would be a more accurate way of putting it. This was no longer Rob, the quirky teenager who wrote songs in his notebook and only dreamed of one day singing them to the masses. 

This was Robert Plant, The Golden God. Girls –beautiful girls– seemed to throw themselves at him wherever he went, or stared at him with amazement and even devotion from the pit when he was onstage. Perhaps he was even flirting with one of them at that very moment. 

“Seriously, why are you doing this to me?” You asked your brain out loud with a groan. You’d positively go insane sooner or later if you continued like this. Now you had actually begun to regret your decision of returning to the hotel in instead of going out with the boys and having fun, as it looked more and more cowardly with each passing minute. Sure, he’d be there but maybe the more naturally you acted around him, the faster your crush would disappear? 

It sounded logical to you. If you repeatedly acted as if nothing weird happened, then you would end up believing it and everything would go back to the way it was. 

“Yeah, right,” you said to yourself begrudgingly before standing up. You wouldn’t let some stupid, insecure thoughts ruin your night. 

Picking up the phone, you dialed the front desk to be met by a familiar beeping sound for a couple of seconds.

“Good night, how can I help you?” A lady answered in a sweet voice. 

“Hi, I know it’s late but is your room service still available?” you asked, picking up the small menu that laid on the nightstand. 

“Yes, it is, what would you like, Miss?” 

“I’d like a large pepperoni pizza, please.” 

After thanking her, you marched to the bathroom to take a quick but well-deserved shower. Not even five minutes later, right as you were walking out comfortably wrapped in a towel, a knock on the door made your stomach instinctively growl.

“Well, that was fast,” you thought as you made your way to the door and swung it open. 

However, instead of the room service person you expected, you were met by Robert’s surprised glance as he helplessly stared at you for the single second it took for both of you to react, you slamming the door shut on his face with a yelp and him repeatedly apologizing, immediately looking away even after you had closed the door. 

“What are you doing here?!” You asked, bewildered, as you made your way to your closet and found the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed, throwing it on as you hurriedly made your way back to the door, opening it to find the poor singer looking awfully flustered. 

“I want–” he stammered and cleared his throat, “I just wanted to see if you were still feeling better. I mean, if you were feeling sicker already.” 

He blinked a couple of times and shook his head bashfully, frustrated at his involuntary lapsus. 

“What about the boys?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Robert just smiled and shrugged dismissively. 

“They can do just fine without me. How are you feeling?” 

“Golden!” you said, your voice raising almost an octave out of nervousness. Yeah, you were many things, but a professional liar wasn’t one of them. “Do you...want to come in?” 

He nodded and both of you stepped into the room. It wasn’t until then that you realized he had brought an acoustic guitar with him. After looking around the room, Robert finally deposited it atop the coffee table. The room probably seemed small compared to the much, much nicer ones the hotel where the band was staying at had, but he couldn’t care less. 

“I brought you chicken soup,” he announced, lifting the paper bag he was carrying. “Seemed to me that you were coughing earlier, and the cabbie said there was a small restaurant not far from here and...I hope it helps.” 

“Thanks,” you said, a warm feeling spreading through your chest as you gifted him with a sincere smile. Now you almost felt guilty about lying to them about being sick. 

“So,” he said, gesturing towards the T.V. “What are we watching?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t really paying any attention to it,” you admitted, to which he chuckled and settled on the couch. 

“You just needed some background noise?” he asked, familiarized with your habit that stemmed from your hatred of silence. “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing,” 

He patted the guitar case and then the spot next to him on the couch, which you settled in with just a little hesitation. 

“With what tale of vikings or Celtic legend will you grace my ears tonight, Rob?” you asked, to which he half-heartedly laughed. 

Your smile fell a little. There it was, those odd gestures that had become increasingly frequent and made you so uneasy. He pressed his lips together until they were just a thin line and took a deep breath before shaking his head. 

“None, really. I wanted to show you something I’ve been working on. Well, we’ve been working on, the melody is Jimmy’s but he said he wanted me to put words to it and...never mind, I’m rambling again.” 

You nodded in agreement with a shaky snicker as you brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them. Robert carefully placed his fingers on the strings and began to play, only to interrupt the melody after just a couple of chords. 

“It’s just...It’s not done yet, alright? This is just...a sample, if you may.”

“Quit stalling!” you said with an impatient laughter, shoving his shoulder playfully. He normally wasn’t afraid to show you the songs he wrote, so you knew there was something about this one. 

“Alright,” he said quietly before he began to strum the chords gently once again. He swallowed hard as he parted his lips and began to sing in that clear, whispering voice of his. 

“It is the summer of my smiles

flee from me, keepers of the gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes,

it is to you I give this tune…”

The melody was gorgeous, but that was no surprise. Jimmy had an amazing talent for those things. However, it was not the melody that had captured your attention. It was the lyrics, and the evident feeling with which Rob vocalized every one of them. He kept singing, humming during the bits he still had no lyrics for. 

“I’ve felt the coldness of my winter

I never thought it would ever go 

I cursed the gloom that set upon us, ‘pon us, ‘pon us

But I know that I love you so

But I know that I love you so…” 

He strummed all the chords one last time to close the song and stared at you nervously. 

“That’s...that’s all I have so far. What do you think?” 

“Rob, that’s beautiful.” You said, almost breathlessly. It really was. Even though to you his lyric writing ability was unbeatable, and this had been just a small display of it, he truly had something special there. “I can’t wait to hear it when it’s complete. I don’t know where you get all these beautiful words and ideas from.” 

“I do.” He blurted out. You looked at him and tilted your head, puzzled. He did? What was that supposed to mean? Of course he did, that was kind of obvious. However, as you looked at him inquiringly, he just kept staring back, like he expected something to fall into place in your head at any moment. Suddenly, he moved his hand forward and placed it on top of yours. 

“Y/n, I didn’t come here just to check in on you. I need to talk to you about something.”

Those words sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. This was it. He knew. What else could that possibly mean? You were about to blurt out any excuse to explain your recent behavior, try to dig a new way out of that situation, figure out a new escape plan; until you felt the warmth of Robert’s palm when his free hand cupped your cheek. 

Then, he so slowly began to lean close to you, closer than he had ever been, until his warm, musky breath hit your face. 

“I know where I get those words from. I’ve known since the day you got me that notebook and told me it was where many songs that’d go down in history would be written. And I’ve known since you fell asleep on my shoulder during that first flight to America, and you can’t possibly know how many moments of my life wouldn’t have been complete without you ever since. And before I start rambling again I need you to know, I love you Y/n.” 

“You do?” you asked, half expecting to wake up from whatever hope-fueled dream this felt like, but as that smile you loved so much that hadn’t changed in years tugged at the edge of his lips and his hand squeezed yours tighter, you realized this was all real.

“Me too,” was all you managed to say, breathlessly, overwhelmed by all the emotions coursing through your chest. 

It didn’t take him a single second to close the breach between your lips and his, bringing his other hand to cup your face as well before slowly letting them fall down your neck, finally settling them around your waist, pulling you closer and allowing you to carefully slide your arms around his neck. 

“I knew it was a bad idea to hold myself back,” he said with a chuckle after slowly pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “I just thought...I don’t know, you were acting so oddly around me lately that I thought you knew and you were trying to push me away, you know?” 

“I guess we are two birds of a feather, huh?” you said with an amused smirk. 

Robert didn’t say anything. He just smiled as he brought you in for another kiss, and you knew that neither of you would have it any other way. 

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 30

A/N:  Okay, so, special announcement.....

The President Wears Prada is ending at Chapter 35.

I know a lot of you weren’t expecting this, but that is where I have planned it to end.  It’s a natural end.  Nothing will be forced.  There’s still a lot left to go, a lot to happen with Aberdeen, Willy, and everybody else, and a lot to write about.  I haven’t written up to it yet, but I know exactly what is going to happen.  I didn’t want the end to come as a shock to you, which is why I’m announcing it now.

In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!

July 1st, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was with William on the rooftop of his condo building.  

She’d spun a wild web of lies to make sure she could be with him after he begged to see her for Canada Day.  It was a bit awkward this year, because it landed on a Wednesday, right in the middle of the week, but she’d managed.  She’d told Kasha she was with her family.  She’d told her family she couldn’t stay the whole day, and because they spent the morning and the afternoon together already, they were okay with that.  

She was getting too good at lying.

“What are you thinking about?” William asked as they lay together on a recliner they had dragged from underneath pergolas so they could see the night sky.  Though there was too much light pollution in Toronto to see a sky full of stars, there were still some bright stars in the sky along with the glowing moon.  From all the way atop the building, they could barely hear the noise from the city below.  

She smiled.  “For the first time, nothing,” she said, cuddling her head onto his chest even more as he held her hand against her heart.  “My mind and my heart are at ease right now.”

She could feel him smile.  He liked how she felt so at east with him.  He liked how he could make her feel that way in between the stress of her job and moving forward in her career.  He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

She raised her head from his chest to cock an eyebrow up at him.  “We’re not having sex on the roof of your condo,” she deadpanned.  

He snorted.  He didn’t blame her for thinking that’s what he wanted.  Ever since he got back to Toronto, they fell back into the habit of sneaking around.  Most of it happened at his apartment now, in between skating at Scotiabank Arena and Aberdeen telling Kasha she’d have to be there the whole day and not just the few hours when they boys were in.  “No, minskatt.  Something else.”

“What something else?”

William shifted his body so he was sitting up more, causing Aberdeen to shift too, straddling his lap to face him instead.  She ran her hands over his chest quickly before he took them, kissing them both, before she watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  “You weren’t the only one I was talking to during quarantine.”

She furrowed her brows at him.  She knew he wasn’t cheating – he wouldn’t be risking her career and her reputation if he was just going to cheat on her – so she had no clue what he meant by that.  “What does that mean, exactly?”

“I thought you deserved some good news during the lockdown…quarantine…whatever,” he began.  “So I got Kyle to send me Max’s number.”

“Who’s Max?”

William rolled his eyes and giggled.  “Max Kerman, minskatt.  From the Arkells.”  He watched as her face lit up before he continued.  “He told me to tell you they’re coming out with a new album.  Well – new.  It’s, like, an acoustic album.  They’re re-imagining all of their songs as if you’re singing them around a campfire,” he explained.

“Really?” Aberdeen was excited by the news.  “That’s so cool.  I love when they do acoustic sets.”

“Mhm,” William nodded.  “They’re releasing it in August.  But they’re actually including one new song.”  He paused for dramatic effect.  “Want to hear it?”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.  “What do you mean want to hear it?  You have it?!”

William nodded.  “Max sent it to me.  I told him about how much of a fan you were, and he remembered you from the mentor’s trip, so he didn’t mind so long as we were the only ones who heard it.”

He could see her eyes light up like fireworks.  “Well—well of course!  I’m not gonna leak it!” she said as if Max were standing in front of them.  “Is it acoustic too?” she asked.  William nodded.  “What’s it about?”

“Let’s see,” he smiled, fiddling around with his phone, shaking slightly.  “I’ve listened to it once or twice.  I think it’s a love song.”

Aberdeen waited impatiently as William found the song.  He turned the audio up on his phone to the highest level as she heard Max’s voice count the beat in.  When the acoustic guitar started, she automatically fell in love with it.  Melodic, as always, sounding like a perfect Arkells song.  She swayed back and forth gently, and at that point, she saw William staring at her.  

I think about you all the time I can’t get you off my mind

Aberdeen’s body seized up immediately.  I think about you all the time.  I can’t get you off my mind.  I think about you all the time.  I can’t get you off my mind.  I think about you when I’m not even thinking.  I think about you when I’m not even thinking.

A rush of emotion flushed her entire body.  “Willy—” she tried to get out, her voice strained as she pushed away from him.

“Minskatt—” he grabbed her hands on his chest as she pushed away so she couldn’t push away any further.  “Minskatt, come on—”

“—Willy what did you do—”

“—Minskatt, minskatt shhhhh,” he cooed as he saw tears begin to fall down her cheeks.  “Minskatt, listen to me—”

“Willy,” she stressed, looking him in the eye.  “Willy, is this song about me?  About us?”

He nodded softly.  “I got him to write a song about you.  Like your dream.”

Aberdeen burst out into tears, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed into them.  William stopped the song and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her, bringing her into his chest to cry.  He held her tightly and placed a kiss on the crown of her head.  “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

She didn’t respond at first.  But when she lifted her head from his chest and wiped her eyes to be able to see him clearly, she finally did.  “Are you joking?  Why am I crying?” she asked rhetorically.  “My boyfriend just got my favourite band to write a song about me!” she exclaimed.

“But you like that I did that though, right?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes.  That at least made her smile.  “Of course I like it, you Costco hot dog,” she said, making him chuckle.  “But I don’t – how did you – I mean what – how—”

“I called Max, and I told him about how there was this girl,” William said.  “I didn’t tell him too much.  Don’t worry.  I didn’t tell him it was you.  But I told him what was important, and some things to include.  And he wrote it, and sort of filled in the rest with his own stuff.”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  William had gotten Max Kerman to write a song about her.  About them.  Without even revealing their secret.  And he’d recorded it.  Mastered it.  Put it on an Arkells album.  Would tour with it.  Sing it to crowds—

“The best part about it is whenever we hear it on the radio, we’re the only two people in the world who know it’s about us,” William said softly, looking her in the eye.

Aberdeen started crying all over again.  She let her face fall back into his chest as he held her again.  She cried her eyes out.  This was, bar none, the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her, let alone a boyfriend.  She was so overwhelmed with emotion that she almost couldn’t handle it.  William, for his part, let her cry until she was all cried out – until she lifted her head again and wiped her eyes again too look at him.

“Can I play it?” he asked.  

She nodded her head, preparing herself.

I think about you all the time I can't get you off my mind If they only knew Who I've been talking to You got a place off the park I'll come on by after dark Was nervous then When you let me in

We were hanging at cross town parties, oh Just killing time until the main event

And it hurts All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn So I'll call you when I'm outside You said, "The key's behind the porch light for unit two" I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

You said that the fridge is dry But you got some red, you got some white The drunks outside Singing lullabies Slow dance swaying back and forth Whispering "What's mine is yours" When you say my name Hits in a different way

You call me out when I'm talking nonsense, oh And I'll kiss you when I got nothing to say

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

My whole life I'm scanning for the exits, oh Lying next to you I don't wanna leave

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides And I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you There's no quitting you

By the time the song finished, Aberdeen had stuffed her face into the crook of William’s neck.  She let some last tears fall.  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said in his ear.  

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, minskatt.  Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

“Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

***

July 10th, 2020

The NHL announced its Return to Play Plan on May 26 with 24 teams in competition for the Stanley Cup.  The tournament begins with the Stanley Cup Qualifiers, which include 16 teams paired in eight best-of-5 series and a round-robin among the top four teams in each conference to determine seeds for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. "I want to make clear that the health and safety of our players, coaches, essential support staff and our communities are paramount," Commissioner Gary Bettman said when announcing the Return to Play Plan. "While nothing is without risk, ensuring health and safety has been central to all of our planning so far and will remain so. "Let me assure you that the reason we are doing this is because our fans have told us in overwhelming numbers that they want to complete the season if at all possible. And our players and our teams are clear that they want to play and bring the season to its rightful conclusion." The format was determined in meetings of the Return to Play Committee, which included executives from the NHL and NHL Players' Association, and five players: Ottawa Senators defenseman Ron Hainsey, Edmonton Oilers center Connor McDavid, Winnipeg Jets center Mark Scheifele, Toronto Maple Leafs center John Tavares and Philadelphia Flyers forward James van Riemsdyk. The qualifiers are being held at two hub cities: the 12 Eastern Conference teams are in Toronto, and the 12 Western Conference teams are in Edmonton, also the site of the conference finals and Stanley Cup Final.  A comprehensive system for testing is in place in each hub city, and each team was permitted to travel a maximum of 52 personnel, including players, coaches and staff. "Obviously, we anticipate playing over the summer and into the early fall," Commissioner Bettman said in May.  "Obviously, these are extraordinary and unprecedented times.  Any plan for the resumption of play, by definition, cannot be perfect. And I am certain that, depending on which team you root for or which team you cover, you can find some element of this package that you might prefer to be done differently.  But we believe we have constructed an overall plan that includes all teams that, as a practical matter, might have had a chance of qualifying for the playoffs when the season was paused. And this plan will produce a worthy Stanley Cup champion who will have run the postseason gauntlet that is unique to the NHL."

***

This was Aberdeen’s second training camp for the same season.  She never thought she’d ever experience a professional sports team’s training camp in her entire life, let alone two.  But her life had taken a turn one year ago (thirteen months now, if we were really counting) when she met William at that bar and had slept with him.  Everything she had experienced this year was…surreal, to say the least.  And that was just in her personal life.  Never mind her professional life.

Although the lines were blurred these days between her personal and professional life.

At Scotiabank Arena, she knew the entire team was on the ice a few floors below Brendan’s office.  She knew Sheldon was putting them through drills, making them skate laps around the rink, shoot at the net – whatever they needed to do to feel like hockey players again.  Whatever they needed to do to go all the way.  Whatever they needed to do to win the Stanley Cup.

“Aberdeen,” she heard her name being called by Brendan.  She shot up from her seat and made her way into his office.  He looked up at her through his glasses as he continued to focus on his laptop screen.  “Close the door behind you, please.  And sit.”

Suddenly her nerves got the best of her.  He never usually needed her to shut the door unless they were talking about something confidential.  “Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting.

He sighed, taking off his glasses and laying them beside his laptop.  He took a good look at her before he began speaking again.  “Aberdeen, I’m going to ask you a serious question, and I need you to think about it before answering me.”

She gulped.  “Okay…”

“Do you want to come into the bubble?”

She was shocked.  He hadn’t spoken to her about the bubble yet, and on the first instance he did, he was asking her to go into it.  This was a grand total of three days before the clubs had to submit the final list of the 52 personnel who would be going in, so she was sure she wasn’t being considered anyway.  “Me?”

He nodded.  “You’d fulfill roles for both Kyle and I, and you would be helping the content creator with the social media aspect of the bubble,” he explained.  “But Kyle and I were speaking, and as we were going through the list of employees to bring, your name came up.”

“I…me?”

“You’re reliable.  Your hard-working.  We know you’re not going to break any rules.  And fuck, there’s some extensive rules,” he picked up a heavy duotang, wagged it at her, before plopping it down on his desk again.  “But it’s going to be tough going in there.  Psychologically.  It’s not going to be easy.  Especially if we go all the way.  And believe me…we want to go all the way,” he stressed.  “That’s why I want you to think about it.”

***

“Brendan asked me to be in the bubble.”

Aberdeen and William had a bad habit of asking things or blurting things out after sex while they were lying in the bed, she with her tits out, trying to catch their breaths.  When she looked over at him, his eyes were bulged out.  “What?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head.  “He wants me to fulfill my role and help the content creator with the social media aspect.  But yeah…he wants me in there.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what she was expecting to hear from William, considering the information they already knew about the bubble and knowing that much more information was to come, but it definitely wasn’t a decisive, stern, “No.”

It was her turn to whip her head to look at him.  “Excuse me?” she asked.  “No?”

“No,” William shook his head.  “I don’t want you in there, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows, not understanding why William was acting like this and saying these things.  She shifted so she was propping herself up on her elbow.  “William…I…what?”

“You…I…listen,” he began, sighing, “as much as I love you and as much as I’m gonna miss you when I’m quarantined in there, I don’t…I don’t know if I want you being in there.  I don’t want you to experience that.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve already gotten the rules.  We can’t be in each other’s rooms.  Aberdeen, we can’t even speak in the elevators.  It’s…I don’t know if I’d be able to do all that knowing you’re there too.  But even more important than that, I don’t want you to risk anything.  Your safety, your health.”

“Willy…” she cooed, bringing an arm up to drape around him.  In turn, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, placing a quick kiss on her shoulder.  “I know you want me to be safe, but I’ll be safe in there.  If you’re safe, I’m safe in there too.  What’s the difference?”

William continued to shake his head.  “I don’t want you to have to go through, psychologically, what I’m gonna have to go through.”

She brought a hand between them to cup his face.  “You don’t have to be the martyr here, Willy.  It’s not like I want you to go through it either.”

William sighed, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.  She could feel his lips graze her skin on her neck and shoulder, but he stayed silent.  He didn’t say another word.

***

July 12th, 2020

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll come into the bubble.”

Brendan looked up from his desk, finally.  He took off his glasses.  “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“Because once you say yes you can’t back out.  We have to submit the names to the NHL officially tomorrow.  And once you’re in the Royal York, you can’t leave unless it’s a family emergency – death, birth of a child—”

“I know.  I read the package,” she nodded her head.  “I understand what I’m getting myself into.  I’ll do it.”

***

July 16th, 2020

Aberdeen walked gingerly into the coffee shop Brendan had sent her to.  In the middle of a pandemic.  She understood cases were now fairly low in Ontario, but she was still apprehensive.  People shouldn’t just be…going places.  Walking into offices that weren’t their places of work or coffee shops that weren’t their regular coffee shops or grocery stores that weren’t their regular grocery stores.  Places that they didn’t know.  That they weren’t used to.

Yet here she was.

She stood at the door awkwardly.  There were exactly three spaces for indoor dining when, in regular times, she knew there would be much more.  At one table, a couple sat with masks on and coffees in front of them staring at their phones.  At another, a girl who couldn’t have been older than here was sneakily taking a Snapchat selfie.  At the third—

“Aberdeen Bloom?” the woman sitting at the table asked.  Her eyes crinkled slightly, signaling to Aberdeen that she was smiling behind her mask.  “Please, sit!” she motioned to the chair.  

“Hi,” Aberdeen said awkwardly, extending her hand but then pulling it back violently before half bowing as a form of saying hello.  She was so fucking awkward.  She didn’t even know what this was for.  “That’s me, Aberdeen Bloom.  I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.  And your name is…”

“I’m Beth Zadakis, the major features editor of Toronto Life magazine.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat.  She was going to fucking kill Brendan.  She was going to go back to the office and murder him in cold blood.  “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said politely, thinking about the gold-plated envelope opener in Brendan’s desk she could use to stab him.  “You’ll have to forgive me, but Brendan didn’t really give me any information about this…uh, meeting,” she said.  “What is it that he needs from you?  Or you from him?”

“Nothing, actually,” Beth’s eyes crinkled again.  “It’s actually more so about you.  Brendan tells me you’re a writer.”

Aberdeen gulped.  “I’m definitely trying to be.”

“Have you submitted to us before?”

Aberdeen nodded.  “Just to the memoirs section.  I think it was Sandy who read my work, but it was ultimately rejected.  At least, that’s who I got the email from.”

Beth nodded.  “Sandy’s actually left to take a job with The Globe and Mail.  And due to some promotions and transfers, there’s actually an opening for a contributing editor – it’s what we call our writers.”

Aberdeen knew very well what Toronto Life called their writers.  She had dreamt of seeing her name on that list for years now.  “Why…I mean—how do I factor into this?” she stuttered out.

“Brendan tells me you’re going into the NHL bubble.”

“I am.”

Beth leaned in slightly.  “We’d like for you to write a feature for the magazine about life in the bubble.  The hotel, the boys, the games – everything.  Hockey in a pandemic.  A full feature, anywhere between five to ten thousand words.”

Aberdeen’s body felt like it was on fire.  She was sure her eyes were bulging out dramatically, but at this point, she didn’t care.  “I can do that,” she said, nodding her head.  “I can do that.”

“If you can pull it off, Aberdeen, you’ve got a job with the magazine.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest.  “I can do it.  I won’t let you down.”

Beth shifted slightly in her seat and took out a piece of paper.  “I’m going to write you the name and contact information of my senior editor, Alec,” she said.  “He’ll want to meet you and speak to you about the piece.  But it’s a go, Aberdeen.”

***

“A major feature, minskatt?” William’s eyes lit up at the news Aberdeen had just shared, her giddiness and excitable energy rubbing off on him quickly.  “That sounds important.”

“Is is important!  It’s the longest feature of the magainze!  Willy, it’s usually the cover!” she exclaimed.  “The—the cover!  Do you know how much of a big deal that is?!”

“I can tell from how much you’re freaking out about it,” he smiled.  He reached to grab her hands and intertwined their fingers.  He pushed them and crossed them at the small of her back before moving closer to her body and giving her a quick kiss.  “Look at you, minskatt.  I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, I haven’t written it yet.”

“Yeah, but you’ve shown me your writing.  And it’s fantastic.  So you’re gonna knock this one out of the park.”

Aberdeen knew how lucky she was to have someone like William in her life, always supporting her and always being her biggest cheerleader.  While other people had told her to pursue other things, he was there encouraging her – the silent support she always wanted and needed.  “I love you.  D’you know that?” she asked tenderly, looking up at his big blue eyes.

He could only smile.  “Not as much as I love you.”

She chuckled slightly.  “You realize if I knock this out of the park, that means I become a contributing editor at the magazine.  I become a writer.  My dream.  And that means I leave the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

“That means I can finally kiss you in public.”

Aberdeen smiled.  It did mean he could finally kiss her in public.  It meant a lot of things.  They could finally be open with their relationship.  They could go out on dates publicly.  They could go out to dinner.  She could bring him to San Remo Bakery.  They could have picnics in the park.  They could walk along the lake.  They could post on Instagram about each other.  She could finally have the name set as ‘William Nylander’ on her phone as opposed to ‘Head Empty’ (maybe she’d keep it that way).  They could do so much.  So so so much.  “It would be bittersweet leaving…” she bit her lip.  “I mean…I love my job, Will.  I love all the guys.”

“Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think it would be a great opportunity for you,” he shrugged his shoulders.  “The guys would miss you but they know you want to become a writer.”

“But what if I can’t deliver?”

William shook his head.  “Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think you’d be able to deliver, either, minskatt,” he said.  “I know you can do it.  We all do.”

***

July 17th, 2020

“You must be Aberdeen Bloom,” Alec Young said with no hint of any emotion in his voice as Aberdeen stood in the doorway of his large, expansive office.  As per COVID-19 protocols, there were very few people in, but apparently Alec was important enough to be in the offices working instead of working from home.  She imagined he had piles and piles of articles to edit for future issues.  She was surprised he even had time for her – granted, it was a quick lunchtime visit, but still.

“Yes sir, that’s me,” she nodded quickly, clutching her purse handles in her hands.  

“Beth tells me you’re going to be writing a feature for us, possibly,” he said.  “About the NHL bubble.”

“That’s the plan, sir, yes.”

He eyed her.  “Sit.  And close the door behind you.”

Aberdeen did as she was told, sitting in the plush chair more than six feet away from his desk – his office was that big.  She settled in but he made her wait as he typed away furiously into his laptop before he finally stopped and turned towards her.  “She told you the length?”

“Yes.  5,000-10,000 words.”

“And what we’re looking for?”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows slightly.  “I…I assume about life in the bubble.  Playing professional sports during a pandemic,” she said.

That was when he smiled.  “No Miss Bloom.  We’re looking for…more.”

“More?”

He clasped his hands together on his desk.  “We know what hockey players are like, Miss Bloom.  You’ve been working for the team for about a year now, right?  I’m sure you’ve seen the shenanigans they get up to.”

“Shenanigans?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.  The booze, the drugs, the women.  They’re professional athletes,” he said.  Aberdeen thought back to a hotel visit in Calgary where she found Mitch Marner and Jake Muzzin playing mini-sticks in the hotel hallway like they were a peewee team on their first-ever road trip; she also thought back to the snowball fight a bunch of them had in Montreal where they were giggling like schoolgirls while also deliberately aiming for each other’s nuts.  If Alec only knew.  “That’s what you’re covering for us.  The shenanigans.  Sneaking women into the bubble, the fights, the booze – everything.”

“I…” she began to protest, not knowing which words should come out of her mouth first.  “They’re…they’re nothing like that anymore.  They’re just not,” she said.  Alec looked unconvinced.  “These are guys that are bringing their gaming consoles into their rooms at the Royal York.  They’re worried about the wifi being too weak when everyone’s gaming that it’s gonna lag or something.  They’re not sneaking in women—and drugs?  I don’t even know where to—”

“Listen,” Alec said firmly, holding his hand up to get her to stop talking.  “Either you get us the scoop, or you don’t.  If you get it, you have a job here, and the guarantee that your article will be on our cover and be front page on the magazine racks and newsstands.  If you don’t get the scoop, you don’t get the job.  It’s up to you.”

Aberdeen thought back to when Mike Babcock got fired.  She thought back to getting called by Brendan late at night and less than an hour and a half later she was on the MLSE private jet.  She thought back to just before going into the locker room, and what Kyle had said to her.  “You know Aberdeen, Brendan trusts you.”  She thought back to what he said after he thanked her for not leaking the information.  “You could have sold that information to any newspaper or reporter and they would have offered you a job.  But you didn’t.”

She remembered what she told him.  “I would never burn this bridge.  I’d never sell Brendan or the team out like that for personal gain.”

And then, what Kyle followed up with.  “This city is rife with opportunity for people who take advantage of others.  But you’re not like that – at least yet.”

That was before everything.  Before she had sex with William.  Before she carried on a secret relationship with him behind everyone’s back.  Before she started lying to everybody.  Had she changed?  Was she a person, now, who would take advantage of others?  Would she take advantage of the organization that had given her so much for her dream job in writing?  Was she that person?  A person who would lie to get what she wanted?  Fabricate entire stories just to secure a dream job?

The answer, to her, was immediate.

No.

But she looked at Alec.  “I understand,” she said instead.

He smiled.  “Good.”

[xdandelionxbloomx]

a lion sleeps (not in a jungle, but in a crib)

1.7k of softness, They Were Roommates! AU, general audiences - also on AO3

Ciri was crying. 

Ciri was crying and Geralt didn’t know what to do. 

Ciri was crying and Geralt didn’t know what to do and it was killing him. 

He’d tried everything - changing her diaper, giving her that ratty little lion cub stuffy, he’d even tried to feed her but she hadn’t wanted it. 

Geralt was very near the end of his rope. 

Jaskier arrived home to the mess - Geralt absolutely frazzled and close to tears himself, Ciri wailing on his lap as he sat slumped on the couch. 

His roommate’s eyes went soft in that way Geralt had come to hate for how it made all his organs do strange things in his chest. 

“Oh, Geralt. Come on.” Jaskier picked his way across the apartment, avoiding some of Ciri’s toys - being a sudden single father hadn’t been easy on Geralt and he was doing his best alright? 

Jaskier, with his guitar case still slung over his back, gently scooped Ciri out of his hands. He lifted her and Ciri momentarily stopped crying at the sight of him, reaching a pudgy little hand out to touch his cheek. She reeled it back after only a second, though, and turned it to a tiny fist that smacked with considerable force against Jaskier’s jaw. He barely even showed his grimace, still smiling at her as he cooed. 

“Someone’s grumpy.” Jaskier murmured, and Geralt had a violent flashback to a few months prior - to when he’d gotten absolutely smashed and Jaskier had come to wake him up the day after, all soft and haloed by sunlight, hair gone gold. 

Geralt lifted a hand to drag it down his face. 

“I don’t know what she wants.” He rumbled, exhausted. 

Jaskier shot him a small smile, something sad buried in it - he’d worn it before, an expression linked to things Geralt didn’t fully know. 

He had never asked, never wanted that sadness to be so overwhelming that Jaskier couldn’t bear it. 

“Sometimes we just need to cry, my dear.” Jaskier said, easily, and shifted Ciri to one arm, offering his freed hand up. 

Geralt took it, letting him pull him to his feet and grabbing the lion stuffed animal as an afterthought. 

Together they walked to Geralt’s bedroom where Ciri’s crib was set up across the room from his bed. It had been painstakingly made by hand by Eskel, who would have adopted Ciri if Geralt hadn’t been first in line as her godfather. 

“It helps, however-” Jaskier spoke again as he let go of Geralt’s hand - Geralt giving a small jolt as he realized they’d held hands all the way into the bedroom. “To have music. Always.” Jaskier half said it to Ciri alone as he lowered her into the crib. Geralt watched how she squirmed, fighting him until she could stand in the crib, teary eyes peering over the edge as her hands curled around the railing. 

Jaskier walked over to the bed and perched himself on the edge, ignoring her as she wailed even louder, making Geralt flinch. 

“Come.” Jaskier said, over the crying, patting the space beside him. Geralt reluctantly joined him, sitting down beside his roommate on his bed, hands clenched around the lion cub white knuckle, one the verge of tears again himself. 

Jaskier, the calmest of the three of them bless the man, simply brought his guitar case around to take the instrument out, plucking a few strings and tuning by ear. As if he even really needed to. 

He looked up, meeting Ciri’s eyes over the edge of the crib. “Sweetheart.” Jaskier kept repeating it until she sucked in a ragged breath, wailing quieted to sniffles as Jaskier plucked out a soft melody that made the knot between Geralt’s shoulders slowly start to loosen. 

Geralt breathed. 

Jaskier began to sing in the quiet, his voice a bit higher and softer than usual. 

“Meow-meow meow-meow meow meow…” It was a soft thing and Geralt blinked. He turned his gaze down to the lion cub in his hands and then back to Jaskier in surprise. Blue met his own hazel and they smiled softly, even though Jaskier’s mouth was occupied. 

“I am just a kitten, hardly fit my mittens…” Jaskier’s gaze drifted back to Ciri, who was now firmly focused on the two of them, crying dying out into little snuffles, her nose stopped up from her fit. A little gurgle as she swayed where she was standing. 

“Much too small, I figure-” Jaskier tipped his head at her, a lock of chestnut hair falling into his face. Geralt’s fingers itched to reach out and brush it away. He watched Jaskier’s profile in the dim yellow light of the lamp he’d left on - Geralt knew it wasn’t exactly platonic to want to touch his fingers to the curve of Jaskier’s nose, to trace  it down to the bow of his lips. 

“One day I'll be bigger, one day I'll be a great big kitty cat - Use open windows to go from flat to flat…” 

Ciri’s hands slipped from the railing and she landed on her rear with a soft thump. She sniffed and blinked bleary eyes at Jaskier. After a long moment Geralt stood to cross the room. He brushed his fingers over the top of her head gently, feeling the wispy blonde strands soft under his work worn hands. He didn’t think these hands were the ones she deserved, but they were the ones she had and so Geralt had to be good. For her. He moved to place the lion cub stuffy in her small - so small - arms, watching her immediately bring it close and latch her mouth onto the ear. She chewed on it, looking at Jaskier all the while, barely even sparing him a glance. 

“I am just a kitten, hardly fit my mittens… Much too small, I figure.” Jaskier sang and Geralt turned to watch him, the way he swayed back and forth on the bed and watched Ciri right back. 

It was a lot like peace. 

Geralt wanted to bottle this moment - like the little ships frozen meticulously in time, waves suspended in motion. He wanted to be able to look at this any time he wanted. He wanted to be able to - 

“One day I'll be bigger, one day I’ll be all grown up and strong - But ‘til then I'll just purr and sing along.” Jaskier cooed and Geralt turned his gaze back to Ciri, who had laid back on her back, watching him drowsily through the bars of the crib. The lion was tucked close to her chest and Geralt’s heart ached. 

He loved her. 

He loved her probably more than anything else in the world. 

It was not something Geralt had ever anticipated. 

Then again, he’d never anticipated Jaskier either. 

Geralt turned to make his way back to the bed, settling himself down beside Jaskier, watching talented fingers slow dance over the strings, plucking the sweet melody long after Jaskier had stopped singing, humming instead. 

Geralt dropped his head down to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

He could feel Jaskier tense, heard the twang of a string, surprised fingers slipping. Geralt didn’t bother to say anything for a few moments and Jaskier’s fingers resumed the same soft melody. 

Geralt closed his eyes. 

“It’s funny. I think she likes you better than me.” He whispered, at last. A soft shudder beneath his cheek told him that Jaskier had laughed one of those quiet ones, lips pulled into a crooked smile. 

“No.” Jaskier whispered right back, shifting to adjust to Geralt’s weight against his side. He crossed his arms over the guitar, finally ceasing his playing and Geralt, with his heart in his throat moved to slide his arm around his waist. 

“No, I may distract her from whatever upset her, but when she’s hungry she turns to you. When she falls, her eyes find you first. Given the choice between the two of us, I’m sure she’d ask you to pick her up.” Jaskier’s voice stayed hushed as he turned his head to press his nose to Geralt’s hair - half fallen out of the hectic bun he’d thrown it up into earlier. 

Geralt wanted to keep this moment forever. 

“I’m trying so hard, Jask, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admitted and Jaskier’s shoulder shuddered under  him again, though he heard the laugh this time. 

“Does anyone? Really?” Jaskier asked, and there was a press of lips to his temple. “You’re trying your best and that’s all you can do. Ever.” The shoulder under his cheek lifted and Geralt made a soft noise of complaint, though he lifted his head and opened his eyes. 

Jaskier was-- looking at him. 

Really looking. 

Like he could see right through to Geralt’s heart, where he kept all the things he cared about held tightly, as if he could shelter them from the world by not talking about them. 

Jaskier’s hands blindly leaned the guitar up against the bed like he’d donen it a thousand times - probably had - and one reached after, to brush Geralt’s hair back from his face. He tucked it behind Geralt’s ear in a gesture that shouldn’t feel so intimate and tender, but did. 

Geralt blinked, lowered his gaze to the collar of Jaskier’s shirt - where, as usual, the first three buttons were undone. 

He’d had thoughts about that before, but in that moment all he wanted to do was bury his face against warm skin, breathe in the smell of Jaskier’s honeysuckle perfume. 

“It’ll be alright, Geralt.” Jaskier murmured and, to Geralt’s surprise, he believed him. 

A trembling sigh through his nose and Geralt lifted his gaze to meet Jaskier’s. 

Ciri snored softly, disturbing the quiet, and Geralt smiled, shaking his head. He looked away from Jaskier for a moment, at the far wall above the crib. 

His brows furrowed and a touch between them smoothed out the expression, Geralt’s gaze back on Jaskier, on the way the edges of his hair went gold. 

Geralt didn’t believe in God or Heaven or Hell - but there were moments like these where he wondered if Jaskier were an angel. 

Kindness, goodness, an overwhelming brightness given human form for minds to process. 

Geralt lifted his hand, catching Jaskier’s in his own. 

It was to the soundtrack of Ciri’s soft snoring that Geralt kissed Jaskier for the first time - slow and delicate, trying to hold the moment as one might hold a butterfly-- 

Trying his very best not to break quivering wings, heart poised to fly away, carried by a breeze, lazily drifting towards honeysuckles that it could not resist. 

[infinites-chaser]

all the lights that lead us there (are blinding)

| mlqc | shaw |

vague spoilers for ch.20+ content

he can't stay still. not really. his mind's always crackling with something some staticky noise that won't ever go— he tries to ignore it, lose himself in his music, his graffiti, his boarding, the play of electricity across his fingers late at night.

It starts like this: he's on the 330 bus at a hellishly early hour, listening to oasis's wonderwall (though he'll never admit it), the volume on his mp3 player turned up as loud as it can possibly go. just him, liam gallagher crooning in his ears, skateboard under his arm, the bass and drums thrumming through his veins like thunder.

correction: it's just him, the quaking wheels of the bus, and the girl who just got on— she's petite, delicate-looking, the kind of person he guesses is into pastels and flowers and gives people like him judgemental stares when they don't think he's looking. but when he stares at her, she stares back and for a second, it almost looks like the world could begin or end in her wide brown eyes. and maybe he wants it to.

(somehow, she seems familiar.)

he looks away first. static crackles around maybe you're gonna be the one who saves me.

and it's stupid but— 

he's on the same bus every day. maybe he looks for her whenever he gets on. maybe he never sees her.

he cycles through the rest of what's the story morning glory. stops listening to oasis. vows to go back to something his bandmates wouldn't laugh at him for.

he's waiting for the bus again, same route, same time, same driver, blasting green day as loud as it'll go.

he closes his eyes. leans his head back against the sun-flecked window, cradles his skateboard close.

the bus rattles, coughs exhaust, then jerks to a stop. the doors woosh open, woosh shut.

footsteps tap light on the linoleum floor, come to a stop close to him. he doesn't move. then static fizzles and pops loud in his ears, billie joe armstrong's voice stutters, jarring, discordant, wrong

he opens his eyes, and it's her.

her and her wide eyes.

the bus jolts, his skateboard slides, and he catches it before too much damage can be done, but she levels that stare at him, bleeding-hearted dreamer's stare, looking like she wants to save the world, bring all the sinners to justice, his skateboard too, and for a moment he forgets himself.

he makes it rain for her.

gives her the umbrella on a whim.

maybe he wants her to save the world,

maybe he wants her she to save him,

he thinks she could. he thinks she will.

she does.

only, she's as self-sacrificing as he's selfish: didn't think you were a saint, he thinks to himself, the world ending, starting anew around him, time loops bending, universes shifting, floating in and out of focus.

he closes his eyes against every universe's, every timeline's final scene: her body limp as a rag doll's, her blood spreading dark and heavy across the war torn warehouse floor.

didn't think you were a hero, either.

the world's wrong, after. he thinks (stupidly, irrationally, immature, caring in a way he hasn't been in a long, long time) that he should've done more— all he's done is give her an umbrella. for rain and a storm he'd caused. it should've been him, at the end of it all.

though in a world where he's certain he's the only one who remembers her, he isn't really sure if she remembers him.

she doesn’t quite. then she does.

didn't think you looked a hero, he says, one late night over STF documents. her hands stiffen around her pen, her eyes narrow, glitter hard and bright to match it.

what do I look like, then, she asks, voice too-soft, too-calm

he falters. they have a balance, normally. he pushes. she pushes back. this time, he knows: he's gone too far.

what do I look like, she repeats, and her voice is still hard, her eyes still glittering, but there's an undercurrent to the ice, something thinning it, making her hardness fragile,

a savior, he says, near instinctively, and pretends not to notice when she nods, looks back down at her pen, and a tear slides down her cheek, splatters dark against the paper's white.

they come together, in fits and starts:

a warning text she ignores.

an insult. then another.

then, slowly, finally. an uneasy partnership.

it starts like this:

he takes her hand, pulls her onto the stage with him. it's hard to tell with the club's flickering lights. but he thinks she's blushing. it's cute. he's not afraid to admit it. he tries to tell her as much, but it's lost between the pounding of the speakers and the roar of the crowd. he settles for another devil-may-care smile.

what's your favorite song?

what?

I said, your favorite song!

you told me you'd tell me information. important information! that's why I came!

your favorite song, he repeats for a third time, even louder. maybe it'd be annoying if it were anyone else, but he'll say it again: she's cute with that pout. 

then, hastily, as her pout deepens:

it's important information! in exchange, you'll learn how good my band is.

she snorts.

play anything, she says, and he finds his fingers straying over the strings of his bass to pluck out the opening notes of wonderwall. he doesn't dare look up to watch her expression 'til the chorus hits.

she sings along.

she looks happy. wistful happy. and maybe her smile's a little sad, and there's a glisten in her eyes when they lift to meet his, but the smile's for him, the way her gaze lingers is proof, and he'll take any smile he can get from her, no matter how sad.

oasis, huh, he says after. I knew it. your taste in music sucks.

she scoffs and reaches a hand up to knuckle his sweaty forehead, hard. he lets her. he'll take this, too.

later, he stretches a hand out, catches a raindrop, surveys it, then shrugs, half to himself. sure, it's cool to roll up to people like yeah I can cause storms (not to mention it's a hell of a handy evol in a fight) but maybe he's being stupid because when he sees her sad smile he wishes his evol could clear the clouds and bring her sunshine back instead.

he does the next best thing: he teases her. and maybe it makes her huff and pout more times than not, but it makes him happier which is really half the battle. and he's sure that behind some of those scoffs are smiles.

between their trading of barbs (always dry, quippy, light, never meant to hurt) she just goes quiet. he doesn't like quiet. he's not used to it, and from the look in her eyes when she gets that way, he can tell she doesn't like it either.

you can talk about it, you know, he says one time, and she freezes, blank stare instantly shifting to a deer-in-headlights look, then annoyance. 

talk about what?

(atta girl, he thinks. sure it's defensive, but nothing scares him more than when she's just— nothing. lifeless. trapped in the past of a time worlds away.)

he scoffs. 

your terrible taste in music? i meant— before

(and they both know what 'before' is without him having to say it aloud, saying it feels like it'd make it all the more real, it'd be wrong)

her eyes are wide again.

before? she says, and he feels it stretching between them, that distance, the void, the reminder that she and him, they don't have a before, only a now, maybe an after.

we need to talk about your taste in music, too, though. urgently, he adds quickly, musters a grin. waits for the scoff, the eye roll to come.

it doesn't. instead, she reaches up to ruffle his hair with a cheeky smile before he can react.

you're a good boy, after all, aren't you, hm?

he scowls. he goes to grab her hand, wind her fingers through his, but realizes what he's about to do seconds before his fingers brush hers— he changes trajectory, attends to his mussed hair. (there's an art to the rebel hairdo. clearly she doesn't know it.)

and he would retort, but she's still looking at him, and her smile's gone all soft, not in a sad way, but in a way that just. does things to his heart,

so when she says 'thank you,' all he can say back is 'you're welcome,' and if he sounds more sincere than he's ever before, she doesn't notice, but he is.

he's not sure when their relationship—  reluctant alliance, friendship, more shifts, but it does, it evolves, it jumps— two steps forward, sparks fly, and they're back in the same place as before. same, he says, as if lightning could ever strike the same spot twice (he knows it does, he's not stupid, not like she is, eyes so bleeding heart wide they could swallow the world in her idealism, her kindness, they could and they will, after all, they've already swallowed him, remade him whole).

his days are filled with her, his nights, too. all the restless hours the clock strikes and neither of them wants to be alone,

bus rides at strange hours and electric eye contact across a crowded club after dark (he's tuning his guitar, about to take the stage, she's sitting alone at the end of the bar, two shots away from drunk) neon lights and drive-throughs before the dawn for hangover fast food, a tired employee's voice crackling through the speaker as he tries to give the order of the whole minivan— most nights it's him and the rest of his band, but once it's just him and her, sunrise after a sleepless night at the top of an empty parking garage, he gives her a can of spray paint and pretends to drive away while she runs after the banged-up van and tries to tag him, the studio and snacks and out-of-character honesty after waking up from nightmares

(it catches him by surprise, even as her brows curve up in surprise, too. the you can stay as long as you want, even though what he means is you can stay forever.)

she's sprawled clumsy across the faded cushions of his couch, halfway to dreamland, when he catches himself reaching to brush the hair from her eyes, thumb tracing tender over the edge of her cheek.

she murmurs something under his touch, soft, indistinct, and his heart's responding murmurs give his voice to a near-unconscious reply,

maybe, he whispers, you're gonna be the one who saves me,

he's about to leave her be when her finger catches round his pinky, holds his hand close,

save me? you already have, she says, 

shut up, he says back, you're drunk.

her eyes blink open, spark bright when they lift to meet his and he's falling, he's already gone, about to make another mistake to add to the many or the one right choice in his life

not drunk, she mutters, and her eyes shutter closed.

he swallows.

I know, he replies. her brow furrows.

he waits a second, a second longer, but her eyes stay closed this time. her breathing evens in the silence. the worry smooths out from between her eyes. she looks peaceful for once,

for once, he could almost imagine her happy. imagine them happy. the thought gives him courage again, to linger at her side. to lean in. to press his lips to the back of her hand.

makes it a promise, an oath sworn by someone who'd never once wanted to be loyal to anyone but himself,

someone who'd decided that there's someone he's willing to follow.

someone he wants to have. to hold.

(all the world's adventures and he wants to be hers.)

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 20: “Main Phase”

We’ve reached our second Free Day! Take the day off or show some love for your fellow creators!

Welp, recent events reminded me that this Music AU of mine existed so y’all get a little variety in the free day shenanigans. Not to worry, I’ll be back with more FF7 AU content next free day.

Lyrics credit to Amateur Tempest.

Also I JUST WANNA SAY I LOVE ALL OF Y'ALL'S WORKS, REBLOGING YOUR CONTENT IS THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY. <3

He sets up the amp and tunes the strings, before beginning the opening bars. A deep breath. He looks out at the park, the leaves swaying gently in the trees.

“ The search for a way of life, can’t be seen, it is a mystery yet still you, need to find a way through Into the unknown, you can feel the echo of your heartbeat going, the rush keeps growing ”

It’s an old favorite of his. Translated the lyrics himself. Probably lost a little bit in translation but the heart is still there, and music is all about heart, right?

“ Believe in the future, live here today. Don’t dwell on the past There’s no time for doubt, In this endless sky so spread your wings and never give up ”

A smile breaks across his face as his voice gains volume. A few passersby stop to listen.

“ The heart must WAKE UP! ”

Jaden loves singing. It’s a kind of rush he can’t get anywhere else, his heart pounding to the beat of the song as he pours his passion into the lyrics, feels the vibration in his throat, creates the melody with his own hands. He lives for this. And one day he’ll stand on stage and pour his heart out for a real audience.

One day. But today isn’t that day. Today he still plays in his favorite park for anyone willing to stop and listen. Jaden hums along softly as he strums out the last few chords, letting his voice rest and coming down from the high. A small pile of pocket change sits in his open guitar case. He didn’t even notice anyone toss it in; he gets so lost in the music.

His fingers strum idly until he settles on the next song and picks up the pace. The change pile grows as he cycles through songs. It’s easy to lose track of time out here but his stomach is quick to remind him when it’s gone too long between meals, and the daily crowd is starting to thin anyway. Mybe he can pick something up to eat on his way home with the extra cash. He sets to collecting the change and dollar bills when a pair of jeans enters his vision.

“Hey, you’re pretty good,” says a vaguely familiar voice.

“Ah, thanks, I-” The words gets stuck in his throat with an embarrassing noise as he glances up at a face straight off the poster in his fucking bedroom. “You’re-”

“I think you could go pretty far.” The freaking music legend himself, lead singer of the King of Music, grins at him and Jaden would be lying if he said he didn’t feel faint in that exact moment. “Here, take this.” The man holds out an envelope, and Jaden reaches for it before making the conscious decision to take it. “I hope to see you again. Take care.”

“Ah, wait a- What is-” Of course his brain only reboots itself as the man is walking away, and the famous singer doesn’t bother looking back at the flustered mess he created. A once in a lifetime opportunity and Jaden wasted it gaping like a dead fish! Groaning, he looks down at the envelope in his hand. What the hell even is this? And what did he mean ‘see you again’? Does he plan to come back and listen to Jaden again? Is Jaden complaining about the possibility of his idol coming to listen to him again? No, absolutely not, but also what the hell? Doesn’t this type of stuff only happen in movies?

Prying the envelope open from its fany seal, Jaden stares down at the equally fancy card invit- inviting him to a hiring event at Millennium Hits!? The squeal tears it away out his throat with force, gaping from the paper back up to the now distant back of his idol. “Th-thank you!” he practically screams. The man makes no indication that he heard Jaden.

Tossing the invite in the case with his guitar, he slings the instrument over his shoulder and grabs the amp. Home. He needs to get home and pull out those original lyrics he’d been working on. Ugh, but they still feel like they’re missing something! His stomach rolls. Food. Right. Food first, then lyrics.

Holy shit this is a dream come true.

...This better not be a dream.

[gayenerd]

I just realized I didn’t post that 2007 Rolling Stone article I posted about here. 

Billie Joe Armstrong

The Green Day leader talks Bush, Britney and being a middle-aged punk for our 40th anniversary.

DAVID FRICKE

Posted Nov 01, 2007 8:19 AM

You have two young sons. What kind of America will they inherit?

This war has to finish before something new blossoms. There's no draft — that's why none of the kids give a shit. They'd rather watch videos on YouTube. It's hard to tell what's next — there is so much information out there with no power to it. Everything is in transition, including our government. Next year, it's someone else in the White House. There's no way to define anything. It's Generation Zero. But you gotta start at zero to get to something.

Is there anyone now running for president who gives you hope for the future?

Barack Obama, but it's a bit early to tell if this is the guy I like. I get sick of the religious-figure thing. People don't question their rulers, these political figures, just as they don't question their ministers and priests. They're not going to question George Bush, especially if he goes around talking about God — "I'm going to let God decide this for me. He's going to give me the answer." The fear of God keeps people silent.

When did you first vote in a presidential election?

In 1992. I was twenty. I voted for Clinton.

Did you feel like you made a difference?

Yeah. The Eighties sucked. There was so much bullshit that went along with that decade. I felt like Clinton was a fresh face with fresh ideas. There were times when he was dropping bombs, and I'm thinking, "What the fuck are you doing?" But he became a target. We have this puritanical vision of what a leader is supposed to be, and that's what makes us the biggest hypocrites in the world. We got so inside this guy's sexual habits. Now we have a president going around, killing in the name of what? In the name of nothing.

What did you accomplish with your 2004 anti-Bush album, "American Idiot"? He was re-elected anyway, and the war in Iraq is still going on.

I found a voice. There may have been people disenfranchised by it. People have a hard time with that kind of writing: "Why are you preaching to me?" It does sound preachy, a bit. I'm a musician, and I want to say positive things. If it's about self-indulgent depression or overthrowing the government, it's gotta come from my heart. And when you say "Fuck George W. Bush" in a packed arena in Texas, that's an accomplishment, because you're saying it to the unconverted.

Do you think selling nearly 6 million copies of that album might have an effect on the 2008 election? A kid who bought it at fifteen will be voting age next year.

I hope so. I made it to give people a reason to think for themselves. It was supposed to be a catalyst. Maybe that's one reason why it's difficult for me to write about politics now. A lot of things on that record are still relevant. It's like we have this monarchy in politics — the passing of the baton between the Clintons and the Bushes. That's frightening. What needs to happen is a complete change, a person coming from the outside with a new perspective on all the fucked-up problems we have.

How would you describe the state of pop culture?

People want blood. They want to see other people thrown to the lions. Do audiences want rock stars? I can't tell. You have information coming at you from so many areas — YouTube, the Internet, tabloids. Watching Britney Spears the other night [on the MTV Video Music Awards] was like watching a public execution. How could the people at MTV, the people around her, not know this girl was fucked up? People came in expecting a train wreck, and they got more than they bargained for.

She was a willing conspirator. She didn't say no.

She is a manufactured child. She has come up through this Disney perspective, thinking that all life is about is to be the most ridiculous star you could be. But it's also about what we look at as entertainment — watching somebody go through that.

How do you decide what your children can see on TV or the Internet? As a dad, even a punk-rock dad, that can make you conservative in your choices.

I want to protect them from garbage. It's not necessarily the sex and drugs. It's bad drugs and bad sex, the violence you see on television and in the news. I want to protect them from being desensitized. I want them to realize this is real life, not a video game.

The main thing I want them to have is a good education, because that's something I never had. Get smart. Educate yourself as much as you can, and get as much out of it, even if the teacher is an asshole.

Do you regret dropping out of high school?

Life in high school sucks. I bucked the system. I also got lucky. My wife has a degree in sociology, and there are conversations she has — I don't have a fucking clue what they're talking about. College — I could have learned from that.

But I was the last of six kids. At that point, my mother was fifty-eight, and she threw up her hands — "I'm through with this parenting thing." Also, I could not handle authority figures. But I wouldn't say I'm an authority figure for my kids. I provide guidelines, not rules.

What is it like being a middle-aged punk? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?

It's about the energy you bring with you, the pulse inside your head. I want to get older. I don't want to be twenty-one again. Screw that. My twenties were a difficult time — where my band was at, getting married, having a child. I remember walking out of a gig in Chicago, past these screaming kids. There were these punks, real ones, sitting outside our tour bus. One girl had a forty-ouncer, and she goes, "Billie Joe, come drink with us." I said, "I can't, I've got my family on the bus." She goes, "Well, fuck you then." I get on the bus, and my wife says, "Did that bitch just tell you to fuck off? I'm gonna kick her ass right now." I'm holding her back, while my child is naked, jumping on the couch: "Hi, Daddy!" That was my whole life right there — screaming kids, punks telling me to fuck off, my wife getting pissed, my naked son waiting to get into his pajamas.

There's nothing wrong with being twenty-one. It's the lessons you learn. At thirty, you think, "Why did I worry so much about this shit?" When I hit forty, I'll say the same thing: "Why did I worry about this shit in my thirties?"

What have you learned about yourself?

There is more to life than trying to find your way through self-destruction or throwing yourself into the fire all the time. Nihilism in punk rock can be a cliché. I need to give myself more room to breathe, to allow my thoughts to catch up with the rest of me.

Before Dookie, I wasn't married and I didn't have kids. I had a guitar, a bag of clothes and a four-track recorder. There are ways you don't want to change. You don't want to lose your spark. But I need silence more than I did before. I need to get away from the static and noise, whereas before, I thrived on it.

Are you ready for the end of the music business? The technology and its effect on sales have changed dramatically since Green Days' debut EP — on vinyl — in 1989.

Technology now and the way people put out records — everything comes at you so fast, you don't know what you're investigating. You can't identify with it — at least I can't. With American Idiot, we made a conscious effort to give people an experience they could remember for the rest of their lives. It wasn't just the content. It was the artwork, the three acts — the way you could read it all like someone's story.

Is music simply not important to young people now the way it was to you as a kid?

People get addicted to garbage they don't need. At shows, they gotta talk on their phones to their friend who's in the next aisle. I was watching this documentary on Jeff Tweedy of Wilco [Sunken Treasure]. He was playing acoustic, and he ends up screaming at the audience: "Your fucking conversation can wait. I'm up here singing a song — get involved." He wasn't being an asshole. He was like, "Leave your bullshit behind. Let's celebrate what's happening now."

We need music, and we need it good. I took it very seriously. There's a side of me where music will always send chills up my spine, make me cry, make me want to get up and do Pete Townshend windmills. In a lot of ways, I was in a minority when I was young. There are people who go, "Oh, that's a snappy tune." I listen to it and go, "That's the greatest fucking song ever. That is the song I want played at my funeral."

Now that you've brought it up, what song do you want played at your funeral?

It keeps changing. "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie. "In My Life," by the Beatles. "Love," by John Lennon.

Those are all reflective ballads, not punk.

I disagree. They are all honest in their reflection. The punk bands I liked were the ones who didn't fall into clichés — the Clash, the Ramones. The Ramones wrote beautiful love songs. They also invented punk rock. I'd have to add "Blitzkrieg Bop" to the list.

What is the future of punk rock? Will it still be a voice of rebellion in twenty years?

It's categorized in so many different ways. You've got the MySpace punks. But there is always the subculture of it — the rats in the walls, pounding the pavement and booking their own live shows. It comes down to the people who are willing to do something different from everybody else.

You are in a different, platinum-album world now. What makes you so sure that spirit survives?

I'm going on faith — because I was there. Gilman Street [the Berkeley, California, club where Green Day played early shows] is still around. And that's a hard task, because there is no bar — it's a nonprofit cooperative. It's like a commune — this feeling of bucking the system together, surviving and thriving on art. Punk, as an underground, pushes for the generation gap. As soon as you're twenty-five years old, there's a group of sixteen-year-olds coming to kick your ass. And you have to pass the torch on. It's a trip to have seen it happen so many times. It gives me goose bumps — punk is something that survives on its own.

[ptergwen]

play me a song

listen to thinking out loud while reading for a good cry!

a/n: i made myself big sad with this so you’re all welcome for that. also i know zero things about the guitar ummm if anything doesn’t make sense i’m SORRY i tried my BEST :(

-

it’s a chill weekend for you and the rest of the holland-osterfield-barrett household. you’re each spread out doing your own things. tuwaine is on the couch playing video games, harrison is chasing tessa across the backyard, harry is taking videos of it for instagram, and you’re outside reading while it all goes down.

the last time you saw tom was at lunch, where he quickly excused himself from the table after pecking your lips and tossing his plate in the sink. he must have gotten an idea. an idea he’s really into.

whenever tom is passionate about something, he gives it all the energy he has and works until he can’t anymore. everyone knows it. he wants the results to make himself and, more importantly, anyone else who sees to feel good. big projects or small, they all matter the same to him. his dedication to everything he does is genuinely one of the things that you admire most about him.

“tessa, no! leave the chickens be,” harrison scoops her up in his arms before she can reach the chicken coop, only to be tackled down. tessa is a lot stronger than you’d think. she holds harrison down with her paws and sniffs all over his face. snickering behind the camera, harry zooms in on the two of them on the ground.

you love those boys and obviously tess to death, but the chaos is distracting you from your book. you fold down the page you’re on with a quiet laugh to yourself and head inside. not to your surprise, tuwaine is staring up at whatever new video game he‘s gotten the rest of the house obsessed with. you’re the only one who isn’t a gamer, and you stand by that.

“hey, t. mind if i sit?” his eyes stay glued to the screen. he smashes a bunch of buttons on his controller, taking out an earbud once he’s killed some sort of alien in robot tech. “nah, it’s cool. i’ve been stuck on level nineteen for ages. help your boy out.” “i’ll pass.” you take a seat next to him on the couch. “i’m not good at anything unless it’s nintendo. maybe ask tom.”

a noise of defeat plays in tuwaine’s earbuds. he curses under his breath and leans forward to see better. “i’ve already tried, man’s busy upstairs. this is my sixth try on this crap.” “good luck to you, buddy.” you pat his back, flipping open your book.

your reading is once again interrupted a few minutes later. the noise is coming from upstairs this time... pretty noise. music. now you’re intrigued. so you don’t bother tuwaine, you get up without a word and leave your book on the couch. the music gets louder as you walk up the stairs.

it sounds like chords on a guitar, and it’s coming from yours and tom’s room. your heart soars when you realize tom is the one playing them. he’s shown you a few old videos of him strumming to songs, but he hasn’t had time for his guitar in a while. it’s so to wonderful to hear him pick it up again.

when you reach your bedroom door, you stand outside and listen to tom try out different harmonies. they’re simple, but beautiful. he never ceases to amaze you with each and every one of his talents. you know he’ll get embarrassed if you go in now, so you wait until he’s finished.

“i’ll be down in a few, tuwaine. i’m just-“ tom glances up and sees it’s you standing in the doorway. a shy smile takes over his lips. “you’re not tuwaine. what’s up, bug?” “i heard you playing,” is all you can say. you’re still moved by what you heard. perking up a bit, he motions for you to come closer with a nod of his head. you do.

“did you?” “mhm. it sounded really good, tom. you should play more often.” he lays his head on your stomach from where you’re standing. your fingers start to comb through the curls that recently grew back. his exhale of relief encourages you to continue the soft way you’re tugging at his hair. he’ll never get tired of the feeling.

“i was only messing around, getting used to it again. thought it would be nice to do a video for the fans.” there’s your modest tom. “i’m sure they’d love that. they’ve been begging you for the longest time. is that what you were thinking about at lunch?” you twirl one of his curls around your finger. he nods against you.

“how to cheer everyone up, yeah. myself included. it’s refreshing to do something different for a change, y’know?“ it’s bittersweet hearing him say that. on one hand, he’s happy about switching things up. on the other, he didn’t have that spark before.

you simply press your lips to his hair, his hands running up and down the back of your legs. “i know, my love. i know. i even tried reading earlier.” “and that went...” tom starts, a teasing tone to his voice. “i couldn’t focus ‘cuz harry and haz were terrorizing tessa. then i came up here.” “poor girl. those idiots are always causing trouble.”

there’s a comfortable silence that falls between you two. tom just enjoys how calming it is to have you toying with his hair. “tom?” your voice comes out almost as a whisper. “hm?” “i was just wondering, could you play me a song?”

you’re met with a beaming tom when he pulls away to look at you. “come sit.” he parts his legs, holding his guitar off to the side. you sit criss cross in the space he leaves and lean your head back on his shoulder. tom’s chin rests on your own shoulder with his head turned to see you.

both of his arms around you, he holds the guitar out. you pluck a random string to test how it sounds. tom smiles at that and copies the note you played. “i could give you a lesson sometime, if you wanted?” he offers lowly, not sure if you’ll be interested. “really? that would be so cool, yeah.”

tom nudges your neck with his nose, drawing out a giggle from you. “i’ll start with a mini one before the song.” he grabs his guitar pick and slides it over a few strings at the same time. “what was that?” “it’s called a C chord, which just so happens to start what i’m playing.” you reach up and ruffle his hair again. “good transition. ok, it’s all you now.”

taking a breath, he pats the guitar four times in a rhythm. he’s counting down in his head. his fingers hover over the strings before beginning to strum the melody. it doesn’t take too many notes for you to know exactly what song he’s playing. thinking out loud by ed sheeran.

it was on the radio the night tom asked you to be his girlfriend. you’d been driving around in the rain after a dinner date, going absolutely nowhere, killing time that you finally had to spend together. you just finished belting out one of your favorite songs for him. by the first chorus of thinking out loud, the two of you were officially a couple and kissing in his audi on the side of the road.

you close your eyes and let yourself go back to the memory, tom holding you tighter against him. you’re positive you’ll start bawling if you look at him right now. the feeling only gets stronger when he starts humming along. the only times you really hear him sing are in the shower or happy birthday, which makes all of this so touching and so special. you can’t help the tears welling up in your eyes.

tom is on the second verse of the song when he realizes you’re crying. he puts the guitar next to him, gently holding your face in his hands. “why are you crying, lovebug? does it sound that bad?” his voice comes out quiet. he uses his thumbs to wipe the tears off your cheeks. you wave your hand dismissively and give him a teary smile.

“no, no, you’re doing amazing. keep going.” “not until you talk to me, y/n.” tom lowers his head to be level with you. you meet his eyes that are filled with concern. “that’s our song,” you murmur. “and it reminded me of some stuff, and i just love you so much, tom. you- you have no idea.”

he nuzzles his face into your neck again, leaving a soft kiss off to the side. “god, i love you even more.” another kiss. “i’ve always thought this song describes us perfectly. sort of like it was meant to be playing when i popped the girlfriend question. believe it or not, listening to it makes me pretty emotional too.” “i do believe it. you’re a big crier, tommy. it’s a known fact at this point.”

you feel him chuckling against your skin, joining in his laughter. “since we’re all good now,” he speaks after a little while. you already know what he’s about to do, grinning at him when he places his guitar in your lap. “how about i finish serenading my girl?”

[tardis-stowaway]

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong. 

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look  to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more  paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

[stressedkitkatttt]

Guitar Lessons - Erick(Part 1)

Ya boi back with another story. I feel bad because it's like all the smut writers just... disappeared, myself included. But life can get in the way, and that's kind of what happened to me. Does anyone even read CNCO smut anymore?

Anyways, so I know I had a Zabdiel story coming before this one, but an anon requested a smut story with Erick, and the Zabdiel story involved him and his guitar, so I thought, "Well shit. Erick plays guitar too, so why not make a story about both of them?" This is like a threesome, only they take turns, and each story is one boy's experience. This is part one with Erick, and part two will be with Zabdiel.

Note: I tried something new... Sort of. Since each story will be a boy's experience, I tried out using some slang from their home countries. In this story, there is some Cuban slang that might need some explaining.

"Acere" basically means buddy or friend and "Mono" can mean cute, and yes I know that in other places it means monkey. I hope I sort of used them in the right context lmao, if I didn't, let me know... I probably did.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: smut

Anon: Can u make a smut about Erick plsss?!!

DISCLAIMER: Do NOT  think it is okay to take my stories and post them somewhere else without my EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Do NOT  think it is okay to take anyone else's stories and post them somewhere else without their EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Giving credit does NOT count as permission. You may reblog my stories, you may NOT repost my stories without MY PERMISSION. ~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a long day for the boys, from photoshoots to promos and everything in between, they want nothing more than to wind down for the night and relax. On the ride back to the hotel, Joel and Chris are out like lights the second they get comfortable in their seats; Richard puts on some music as he tries to stay awake long enough to get to the hotel; Zabdiel and Erick seem to be the only ones with any sort of energy left.

Because everyone is so tired, the ride back was silent, save for the quiet murmuring between Zabdiel and Erick in the back of the van. As the van pulls up, you lean over and wake up Chris, who doesn't budge. When you do manage to wake him, he is completely out of it, his head drooping and eyes slowly closing over and over again. You and Chris are the last ones out of the van, you dragging him out by the hand as he grumpily complains about having to move.

Giving Chris his luggage, you walk inside with the boys to the elevator, pressing the button for the correct floor. A sudden tap on your shoulder makes you turn and you're met with familiar green eyes. "Do you want to join me and Zabdiel for a little bit?" You weren't tired, and they seemed to have some energy left, so you agree.

"Yeah, just let me put my stuff in my room and I'll come over." You respond. Erick smiles and looks at Zabdiel, who also had a smile on his face. The elevator stops and opens, everyone filing out and going to their respective rooms. You find your room and place your suitcase on the bed. Before heading to Erick's room, you head to the bathroom to freshen up. Grabbing your phone and room key, you head down the hall and find his room.

Knocking twice, there's some shuffling before the door opens, revealing Erick in more comfortable attire. He moves to the side and lets you in. You see Zabdiel with his guitar, lazily strumming his fingers along the strings. You also notice the takeout box from the restaurant you and crew members went to for dinner. Zabdiel looks up and flashes you a small smile before returning to playing his guitar.

Erick comes up beside you and gets on his bed, reaching for his guitar and playing a few notes before tuning the strings. You make yourself comfortable on Erick's bed, propping yourself up with the pillows against the headboard. When Erick is satisfied, he and Zabdiel begin playing a tune. You record a little bit and put it on Snapchat before setting your phone down and listening in. They begin to sing softly and you begin to zone out.

"Do you want to play with us, Y/N?" You snap back into reality and stare dumbly at the Cuban. He sees your expression and motions to his guitar, rephrasing his question. "Do you want to play guitar with us?" You blush and mentally scold yourself as your mind had instantly gone to the gutter at his first question. You compose yourself and reply.

"Erick, you know I don't play guitar... or any other instrument, for that matter. You remember what happened the last time I played an instrument?" He laughs as he remembers the incident from a few years ago. When he looks at you again, there's determination in his eyes and you know he's not gonna go down without a fight.

"But that was some time ago," he reasons. "Pensaste que Zabdiel y yo nacimos sabiendo tocar la guitarra? Por favor, seré tu mejor acere." There's a little twinkle in his jade eyes and a big grin on his face and you sigh. Ever since you met him, one look into his eyes and you were a goner. He could get you to do almost anything with one look, especially if he pulled a puppy-dog look.

You sigh once more and nod, making Erick grin even wider due to his triumph. You move down the bed towards him, sitting next to him on the edge. "Here," he says as he moves behind you, placing his legs on either side of yours and his head on your shoulder. "That's better." His breath tickles your neck. He reaches over and grabs his guitar, guiding it to you. You take ahold of it as your heart rate goes up slightly. Erick adjusts it so it sits comfortably in your lap and he has a good view of your hands.

"Listo?" He gives you a side glance. You nod and he guides your hands to the correct places along the neck of the guitar before gently guiding your fingers across the strings. He starts slow and the tune sounds vaguely familiar before it jogs your memory. This was a tune Erick used to play all the time when you visited him. As you became more familiar with the movement of your fingers, still guided by Erick, you became more confident. Before long, Erick had moved his hands away from yours and you were playing the tune with relative ease, messing up every once in a while, but otherwise, anyone listening could recognize the tune.

"See? You're doing so well," Erick rests his head on your shoulder, his hands resting in your lap as you continue to play. Before long, you're joined by Zabdiel, who plays some background noise fitting for the song, smiling at you as he plays along. Erick shifts suddenly and he moves his head closer to your neck. So close, you feel his lips brush ever-so-softly, making your hair raise. You weren't expecting him to do that, so your hands faltered and you ruin the rhythm. As you feel his lips against your neck, his hands break away and move to your sides, rubbing up and down gently.

"What're you doing Erick?" You manage to hold your voice from cracking, but it wavers still. He hums and his touch gets a little more deliberate.

"Eres tan mono tocando la guitarra..." He trails off. You blush a little, a little flustered and confused as to why he's suddenly acting like this. His lips finally connect to your neck and you freeze. "Estás de acuerdo con esto?" You nod, gently placing his guitar down as he begins to move his hands up your shirt now that he has the green light.

His warm hands find your bra, pulling back a little to unhook it and you pull it off. His hands find your boobs and begin kneading them, playing with your nipples, and making your back arch slightly. His name comes off your lips in a breathy tone. You wiggle against him and he groans as you pass over his clothed dick. He takes one hand and moves it down to your pants, fiddling with the hem. You take the hint and you stand up, quickly undoing the material and letting it drop to the floor while Erick does the same.

A rush of emotion rushes over the both of you and Erick scoots up so he's in the middle of the bed. You climb up after him and get comfortable straddling his legs. Placing both your hands on either side of his head, you lean down and press a fevered kiss to his lips as you sink onto his hardened length. Erick breaks the kiss as he groans in pleasure, feeling your walls bare against his length. In the rush to feel Erick inside you, you didn't bother to take off your shirt, but Erick found it kind of hot as he watched your breasts bounce through the material.

Your thighs burn as you begin to move your hips at a medium pace, giving both of you the pleasure you need but keeping you both on the edge. Erick brings his hands up to your sides before moving them under your shirt, feeling your breasts move against his hands. He teasingly rolls a nipple between his fingers, making you whine and he grins.

"Qué se siente, mami?" He asks. Your hips stutter at the sound of his voice, and you don't reply, too busy trying to hold back the inevitable while bringing it closer. Erick wasn't pleased with your silence, so he brought a hand down to your thigh before giving it a quick smack. "Dije, qué se siente?"

You take a breath in, "It-it feels so good, Erick. Tan bueno." Erick bites his lip and begins to buck his hips in time with your thrusts. He moves one hand from your chest and begins to play with your slit, running his thumb along the entrance of your opening. Your juices coat his fingers as he continues to work you closer and closer. Feeling your walls contract around his cock, he smiles.

"You gonna come from me playing with you like this?" He says, a slight cockiness to his voice. Who knew Erick could have such a mouth on him? Maybe he spends too much time with Chris...

All you do is nod in response, feeling the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter with each of his thrusts, and not to mention his fingers gently rubbing you as well. Suddenly, he smacks your other thigh, causing you to bite down on your lip as an explosion of sensation hits your body. Your inner walls grab at his cock, and he manages to rub your g-spot until you've come all over his cock and he keeps thrusting moving.

This only prolongs your orgasm and keeps you spasming around him. His moans become slightly higher in pitch as he feels the knot in his stomach begins to tighten. His hand leaves your leg as he begins to grab at your hips.

"I'm going to..." he grunts. A few thrusts later, you feel his thighs tense and he bucks his hips upward, shooting his load inside you. You both lay there panting for a moment, enjoying the chemicals roaming through your bodies.

"Gracias…" He says, moving his head to look at you. You smile at him lazily and take in some breaths. You slowly move off of him and go to grab a towel to clean the two of you off. After you've cleaned him off, you connect your lips with his again. It was slow and passionate, his hand coming up to your cheek. Before you can get too lost in the kiss, the strumming of guitar strings makes you break away and turn.

Sitting on the other twin bed is Zabdiel, casually strumming his guitar. He finally looks up after a few moments and looks at you. He smiles.

"Estás listo para tu próxima lección de guitarra?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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