#drummer's anger is just really important to me okay

[thiswildernessismyhome]

BLOOD BOILING || CAMINA DRUMMER || THE EXPANSE

I'm drowning in an ocean of entitled motherfuckers. -- Camina Drummer, probably

Premiered at VidUKon 2023

On AO3 here.

[symbioticsimplicity]

I don’t need to be up this early but this idea won’t leave me.

So, Steddie Battle of the Bands AU featuring punk!Steve.

Corroded Coffin join a battle of the bands competition run out of a little bar just outside Indianapolis, expecting fully to make it all the way. There’s not a lot of musicians in their area and out of all of them, CC have the most milage and the most unique sound. Sure, it’s metal, but in the bigger city that’s not the death sentence it would be back in Hawkins.

For the most part, they’re right. There’s a little pop trio that do okay, a Bob Dylan type with an acoustic and the flattest, most nasal tone Eddie has ever heard, a rock outfit with a drummer who’s clearly on speed and fixing to pull a Spinal Tap, and one very old dude who’s there more for the fun than to actually compete. They’re a shoe-in.

Except there’s a punk band that were running a little late, and manage to take stage literally just as they’re being called. The Demogorgons, they’re called. 

Eddie is pissed the instant he sees them, firstly because he’s been on sight with punks since ‘84 when a flock of the little shits dissed Dio to his fucking face. Second because out of all the things they could have been called, they picked a DND creature??! In Eddie’s house??? Who the fuck did they think they were?!

The longer Eddie watches them play (he can’t leave until they announce who’s moving on from this round, he’s literally a captive audience), the more pissed off he gets because they’re good.

The lead guitarist is a girl with dark, short hair mostly hiding her face, but she’s absolutely slaying their cover of White Wedding, adding more than was originally in the song seemingly on the fly. It’s beautiful, as a guitarist himself he can at least begrudgingly respect her talent.

The bassist is also a girl with short hair who seems like she’s in her own world, totally lost in the music and jamming so hard Eddie can’t really look at her for too long without getting sucked in with her.

The drummer looks like an absolute madman, big buff blonde guy who looks like he’d bite if anyone got too close to him. He’s bare chested, showing off a few tattoos and a couple piercings that make him far more interesting than Eddie cares to admit.

But the singer/ rhythm guitarist, is what is really tripping Eddie up.

He’s prettier than he has any goddamn need to be, and he’s weirdly smiley for a punk. Like being on stage is his happy place, which Eddie can relate to, even if he hates admitting any commonalities between them at all. His voice too, is lovely. It’s not the typical scratchy punk sound, it’s high and airy and from a technical standpoint (only that, Eddie swears) it’s really good. And he seems like he’s not having any trouble playing and singing at the same time, which is shitty as hell because Eddie still does sometimes.

Before their set ends, Eddie has decided he hates them. He hates them, so much.

So much in fact, he goes over to heckle them once they finish.

It goes south almost immediately.

He was right, the drummer is definitely a maniac. It’s like he was waiting for an excuse to fight someone. And given how fast the singer snatches him up after he decks Eddie, this is a frequent thing. The singer and the drummer posture at each other and for a second Eddie thinks they’re about to fight.

But evidently the drummer thinks better of it and stalks off to start helping put their gear up.

The singer apologizes for his bandmate, even though Eddie started the fight, and introduces himself as Steve, the drummer being named Billy. He’s a good kid, Steve tells him, just angry and still learning where to put that anger. He offers to buy Eddie a drink for his trouble, and he’s so floored he ends up accepting.

To Eddie’s surprise, they end up talking, and they end up talking a lot. Steve is easy to talk to, and he listens like what Eddie has to say is important. When he talks, it’s with this sardonic edge to it that reminds Eddie of sour candy. Before he knows it, it’s been like three hours, and it’s time to announce who’s advancing to the next round.

To Eddie’s complete lack of surprise, Corroded Coffin make it through, but so do The Demogorgons. Steve congratulates him, sincerely, and Eddie stutters out the same.

They part ways for the night, but the pretty punk with the prettier smile won’t leave Eddie’s thoughts.

Cue CC telling Eddie to get his head in the game, trying to head off the crush they can spot forming. They know him well enough to know the signs, and they don’t need him pulling a Romeo and Juliet with some punk he met for one night.

Little do they know, The Demogorgons are having a similar chat with their own lead. They’ve worked too hard to have Steve get distracted, or worse, go soft, over some greasy metalhead he’s only talked to like, once. Steve of course promises that he won’t. After all, it’s not like he’s really going to see him much, and Steve isn’t easy, he has to get to know someone to fall for them.

Cut to a week later when one Steve Harrington is dropping Dustin off at his DND thingy, only to see none other than Eddie Munson perched at the head of the table. He’s explaining what their quest is for the night, or something, and he’s so animated, so into it, he doesn’t notice Steve frozen in the doorway.

Steve makes it out before Eddie sees him, but from that moment on it’s like he’s every where Steve goes. They bump into each other constantly, Hawkins is a small town, it’s easy to do. It gets to be such a regular thing that Eddie makes a joke about following Steve, and Steve sings that Rockwell song about being followed and they find themselves laughing together again.

It’s easy, really. Too easy. And before they know it, whenever they bump into each other, they end up talking for a while. It’s just a few minutes, they both reason to themselves, a few minutes is fine.

But a few minutes turns into an hour, turns into a couple hours, turns into a smoke sesh at Eddie’s, turns into a jam sesh at Steve’s, and before they know it, they’re missing each other when the other isn’t around.

Of course it isn’t long before Gareth notices his best friend’s preoccupation, and Robin could clock Steve’s daydreamy look three miles away. They each come clean to their respective long-suffering bestie.

Neither are happy, but they both care more about their friend than some stupid band competition. They know the rest of their bands won’t be happy, and that could be a pain, so rather than being even slightly reasonable, they hatch a plan.

Eddie and Steve are determined to be the punk-metal version of Romeo and Juliet, but that doesn’t mean their story has to be a tragedy. This is a musical, afterall. What better to do than bridge the gap with the power of music.

So the next time Eddie and Steve hang out, they both spend probably fifteen minutes uncomfortably dancing around trying to ask the other to write a song with them.

Steve cracks first, because seeing Eddie uncomfortable is so fucking bizarre it trumps his own nerves and he has to ask what’s going on. Eddie decides to be brave and takes the leap, asks Steve what he’s got to ask, and to his surprise Steve tells him he was going to ask the same thing.

They haven’t really talked about it, the tension between them, but it boils over when Steve tries to explain why he wants to write a song with Eddie. Eddie can’t watch him flounder for a second more, when he knows he could just be kissing him instead.

He takes Steve by the jaw and kisses the soul out of him. If they weren’t sold they were doing the right thing before, the kiss seals the deal.

They spend the night trading kisses and lyrics in equal measure, alternating between strumming strings and heartstrings until they’re both so caught up in creation, in each other, they’re harmonic.

After that, they hit crunch time. The battle of the bands is next week, and learning a whole new song is a pain in the ass for both bands. It’ll be worth it, but Jeff doesn’t know that and Billy doesn’t care.

The boys make time to see each other, but of course, they get caught.

Band practice gets postponed on both sides of the fence. They know they shouldn’t, it’s stupid, but Eddie spent the day getting harassed by a flock of “Concerned Christian Mothers” who were not shy about telling him exactly what they thought about him, and would not get the hell out of his face about it. Steve is a caretaker down to his bones, and doesn’t think twice about going to care for his metalhead.

Nancy however isn’t stupid, and Grant knows damn well Eddie would only postpone practice if something was genuinely wrong. So Nancy follows Steve to see what the hell could be so important to him that he’d call off practice, and Grant goes to bring Eddie a care package.

Nancy isn’t happy about finding the two spooning on Eddie’s couch, but she doesn’t make as much of a fuss about it as Grant does. Grant goes off about sleeping with the enemy and treachery and the metalhead code of honor (which he made up right there on the spot), but the real bucket of cold water is Nancy telling Steve how disappointed she is that he pulled them all into this, made them care about it, only to waste his time chasing after someone instead of putting his heart into the music the way they all had been. She asks him to get serious, then leaves.

Steve excuses himself, ignoring Eddie’s pleas to wait a second, come back, please, let’s talk about this.

They don’t see each other again until the night of the show.

The competition threw them a curveball, however. None of them know until they get there, see the layout of the big warehouse like space, but instead of playing one after the other, the competition is amp versus amp. CC are freaking out a little bit because they’ve never played that way before, and Eddie is picking up an acoustic, why the hell did he even bring an acoustic, what’s going on?? The Demogorgons are equally nervous, this being a first for them too, and Steve is quiet, so quiet, he’s never like this before shows, what’s going on??

Despite everyone’s nerves and fears, the two bands take their places on the two stages, on opposite ends of the room from one another.

Eddie introduces Corroded Coffin with the same flare he usually does, but tells the audience that tonight’s performance is going to be a little different than their usual. He finishes with “This one’s for you, Juliet.”

He starts strumming the acoustic, the song he and Steve had written together filling the space, warm and full and a wild departure from their usual sound. He’d gone over it with the guys, added some polish to it, made it more metal, but he’d asked them to hold off on that until he cued them.

“And hey darling, I hope you’re good tonight. And I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving-”

The rest of Corroded Coffin have never heard Eddie sing like this, didn’t even know he could. Usually he was all growls and grit and demon noises he’d figured out how to imitate. They had no idea he was even capable of making a song sound so beautiful.

Eddie continues singing his heart out, strumming his guitar, praying that Steve picks up on what he’s doing, joins him at the drop, doesn’t leave him again. He’s nearly convinced himself he’s going to end up singing the whole thing alone, and God how stupid would that be, that when he reaches the switching point, he nearly drops his guitar when Steve’s voice rises up to meet him. A spotlight flicks on, illuminating him as he sings into the microphone, playing his own part of the accompanyment.

“And hey, sweetie, well I need you here to night. And I know you don’t wanna be leaving me here tonight-”

Steve’s voice is the perfect counterbalance to Eddie’s. It’s light where his is heavy, soft where his is gritty. It showcases their duality, while highlighting how good they are together and Eddie would cry if he weren’t on stage.

He takes the next verse as planned, but Steve’s voice stays with him, harmonizing along side him so perfectly it’s as if they’ve been singing together for years rather than about a week.

“You know you can’t give me what I need, and even though you mean so much to me, I can’t wait through everything.”

That’s different, not the line they wrote together. It lands like a gut punch when Eddie looks up and sees Steve’s expression. He’s not smiling. He always smiles on stage.

“Is this really happening?” Eddie sings back without missing a beat, knowing the next verse is his, meaning it might be his only chance. He prays to every muse he’s ever had to lend him the improv skills to land this.

To his suprise, he hears Jeff’s heavy guitar start to build, Grant’s bass swooping in beside it to flank him. When he turns his head to check, they both give him the nod, the one that’s always meant they’re beside him, for better or worse. It gives him to courage to put his soul into the words he’s about to spit.

“I swear I’ll never be happy again, and don’t you dare say we can just be friends, I’m not some boy that you can sway.” 

There’s a half a second pause in the music, just long enough to wreck Eddie’s heartrate. He can see Steve’s face from here, not clearly enough to make out every emotion that flashes across it, but enough to see when it lands on determination.

“We knew it’d happen eventually.” He and Steve sing, or in his case shout, in tandem.

Corroded Coffin fall back in with them, and to Eddie’s utter surprise, The Demogorgons join them. The sound of two bands playing the climax of the song he and Steve had written together hits Eddie so hard he can barely sing past the balloon of emotion swelling in his chest.

The crowd reminds him they’re there, joining in on the chorus of ‘La la las’ going around the room, their voices loud enough to shake the walls. It’s everything Eddie has ever wanted from a crowd, and it’s way too much along with everything else going on right now. Eddie can’t focus on it, not when Steve is staring him down from across the room.

“If you can wait ‘till I get home, then I swear we can make this last.” Eddie belts, Steve’s higher register wrapping around the notes the same way his hands wrap around his mic.

Both bands let the song taper out, leaving just the crowd echoing back the words to them, just Steve and Eddie singing to each other.

Eddie reaches out his hand, as if he could take Steve’s in his despite the distance. Steve once again meets him halfway, extending his own hand as if to bridge the distance.

The lights go down and the crowd is still chanting. It takes longer to settle them down than it does to make the decision to shrug off his guitar and run to his boy. Eddie hesitates only to look over at his bandmates.

They look exhasperated, but fond. Grant rolls his eyes and tells him to go kiss his stupid punk or whatever.

Eddie is off in an instant.

He finds Steve tearing his way over to him, runs straight into him almost the same way he’d run into him the first time they met outside of a venue.

There aren’t words, they don’t need them, already sung them. There’s just Steve and Eddie and how badly they’ve missed each other. The apologies and affirmations can come later, when their mouths aren’t so busy kissing the life from one another.

In the back of his mind, Eddie registers some of the crowd around them wolf whistling, but for once he doesn’t give much of a shit what the crowd thinks of him.

[immobiliter]

ship bias for drummer & martha !

ship bias meme / @galaxye

camina drummer !

okay so no. 1 has to be camina & her polyambelterfam - this is her one canon romantic "pairing" and it's just handled so wonderfully by the writers and gives camina so much interesting development from s5 onwards. i'm not sure if i'd say i'm the biggest fan of the way her and oksana's relationship turned out, at least in terms of her specific dynamics with the other main crew members of the dewalt, but i do like what that dynamic achieves for camina's characterisation in addressing that she has so much anger and trauma to overcome in order to accept love from others. it's just so nice to see polyamorous relationships depicted on screen too.

i also have to give a mention to camina & naomi lmao. it should have been canon. they did polyamory with camina and her crew, so it would have been easy to accomplish with naomi & holden too. i'm not sure i necessarily ship camina with holden, i think in an ot3 situation it would have to be a dynamic with naomi at the centre ( as she deserves ), a little like how the writers pitched it during the latter half of s3, but i think they are both incredibly important parts of naomi's life and she deserves to have them both tbh.

then speaking exclusively about the telltale game, i absolutely ship camina & maya. they did everything right when it came to maya ( and one day i'll replay the game so that i can actually save her because rip, that hurt my soul ), camina canonically falls for/chooses to orbit around visionaries and idealists and i think it makes a lot of sense for her to have an early romantic relationship with someone like maya to help inform the sort of preferences she has during the show timeline.

those are my only canon pairings for camina, i think she is way too sharp and savvy for any of the men she spends her time around ( i just can't picture it with dawes, fred or ashford ). but i will always ship her with happiness + people who can look past her scary, tough exterior and appreciate the heart of gold that she has hiding underneath.

martha jones !

so can i preface this by talking about what i absolutely do not, under any circumstances, ship ? martha and ten lmaoooo. no thank you no way. don't get me wrong, i looove ten, he is my favourite doctor and i have so much nostalgia attached to david's run as the doctor, but i have Opinions about him where martha is concerned and frankly would like her to stay away. i do think their dynamic is interesting for very specific reasons, but the further i can pull martha away from her unrequited love plot, the better imo. i'd be even happier if i can just pretend it never existed in the first place. i think this also rules out shipping martha with any other iteration of the doctor too, i'm just Not Interested in really going there, y'know? i prefer doctor who when it's not all about the romantic tension.

martha & mickey is an interesting one. it's the way that martha's story canonically ends and i'm extremely ambivalent about it, probably because we are given absolutely Nothing and no reason to really care about the fact that they are together aside from a quick scene during david's last episode. do i think they could be a good fit ? yes, definitely, do i like that they shafted tom milligan ? nope, not at all lmao. so it's not something i would auto-ship but i absolutely could ship it with the right person, they both have similar experiences of being shafted and dismissed repeatedly by others and both had to prove themselves, so i think on paper it could work really well and i would one day love to explore it.

martha & jack. again, i wouldn't auto-ship it, but i have shipped it in the past and i do love the idea of them together under specific circumstances. do i necessarily think it could work out long term ? i'm on the fence, i'm not sure jack could give martha what she ultimately Needs ( stability, love, a safe home to come back to ) long term. however i love how protective jack is of her throughout both dw and tw and it's obvious that he really really cares about her and her family. and martha is flirtatious, this is a canon fact. so i find it difficult to believe something wouldn't happen between the two of them at some point, however fleeting it was. i think they could learn a lot from each other.

also a quick shoutout to martha & jason ( @synchronzed ) because i always have to credit rat for writing spectacular ships with me and this is one i'm really excited about. martha deserves a silly boy who simps for her, that is all.

and lastly, martha & happiness is up there too. the girl deserves someone who think she is a goddess among mortals because she is and i will not accept anything less for a queen like her. she takes care of everyone around her and it's only right that she has someone who will take care of her in return. i also hc her as bi, so this needn't be restricted to just boys too. i think her dynamic with miranda raison's character in dw ( the showgirl from the 30s ) is super interesting when looked at through that sort of lens.

[raspberry-arev]

After the Flood (a.k.a. bicci fic)

Hello friends! Some of you may remember that back in... er, who knows, I was writing a Bicci Proposal Fanfic. However, school and lack of motivation got in the way, and essentially, I forgot it existed. Until now. It's done, it's ready, it's here for you to read in whole! (I posted half of it before, but I can't find the thing.)

Characters: Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Lister Bird, Rowan Omondi, OC (Abby Omondi), Angel Rahimi

Themes: older Ark, marriage proposal, coming out, grand gestures, The Ark Revival Tour, and peak Bicci romance (hopefully)

TWs: mentions of recovery from addiction, anxiety, food

Word count: 9k

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and wrapping camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer.

At a certain point, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After the Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, tell me.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too. Spill it.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

JIMMY

Not much later, they had a team meeting scheduled with all the important people at their recording company that were involved with their tour. Jimmy and Lister announced their intention to come out during the tour, and with Rowan’s full support, it wasn’t too hard to win the producers over. Jimmy had anticipated the PR people would deem it overly risky to their image, but they were fairly chill. As Rowan had put it, “As if anything about The Ark was ever about pandering to conservatives.”

They agreed that their demographic is absolutely different, and before they knew it, they were being ignored while people were exchanging speculations about how it all could help them promote the tour.

“If they do it on, like, the second show…”

“…we could sell some extra tickets after… another wave…”

“…that would probably be a good time to release a single, something related to…”

Jimmy felt something in his chest sink. This is why they left. These people took something good, something from their hearts and souls, and wanted to turn it into money. Some part of him understood, that’s how business works, but mostly, he just felt really sad for them.

“Oi!” Lister exploded over the chatter. “Sorry, but we are still here, and – Could you maybe not act like this coming out is a marketing tactic?!”

The room went briefly silent.

Jimmy squeezed his hand under the table to say a silent thanks. Then he choked out, “That’s not why we’re doing it!”

Their producer looked at them over the top of her reading glasses.

“Of course it’s not, love,” she cooed. “But to say it bluntly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

After many weeks and many briefings, they had agreed on making the announcement on the third show. Right in the middle of tour. Everybody was nervous, expectant, but there was this air of hopefulness when Jimmy and Lister ended up alone together. The glimmer in his partner’s eye when their eyes met promised something… no, it was not living absolutely openly, they still wanted privacy. But it felt like they were sealing something.

This was not an easy coming out.

But they were in for it. Together.

LISTER

“Just so I know,” Rowan said as Lister was trying to take off his Doc Martens with all his might, “what did you tell Jimmy this time?”

“We’re still working on music.”

“We should really make something then, before you go. I am not gonna lie to my childhood best friend, y’know.”

Finally, the boot came off, and Lister got off the little cabinet in Rowan’s hall. Abby was already making tea, and when she saw him walk by the kitchen door, she just nodded at him. Lister smirked at her; she loved pretending to still be mad at him for taking Rowan to a strip club on his stag night. (Or was it dancing on the table at the wedding reception? Anyhow.)

Rowan sat him down in the lounge and started the conversation with: “So. The big reveal is getting closer. How are we feeling?”

“I – great, good. I’m fine, and Jimmy seems to be fine, so yeah, we’re fine.”

“But I assume that’s not what you need help with?”

“You assume right. I will need you to bear with me, though.”

“That sounds interesting,” Rowan retorted and flashed a smile at Abby who was bringing them two steaming mugs of earl gray. “And when I say interesting I mean impending doom, why thank you, Abby!”

“No problem.” She slowly leaned over, careful not to lose balance with her belly, and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be off for my swimming class then. You two behave, will you.”

As she was making her way to the hall, Lister jokingly remarked, “No goodbye kiss for me?”

She stopped in the middle of the room and exchanged a glance with Rowan. Rowan, stirring his tea with a teaspoon, said, “Please don’t kill him, I need him for the concert.”

“Come on, you guys, I was fully kidding. Goodbye, Abby,” he waved to her with a bright smile. “Enjoy your swimming stuff!”

“Thank you, will do.” She disappeared.

“Just a question!” he called after her. She came back with an eyeroll. “Is it, like, harder to swim when you are pregnant? Like, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, I’m just genuinely wondering.”

She, too, put aside her snarky façade for a second. “Actually, I go there because it’s relieving. The water makes you float, so the weight of the baby is taken off my back and legs for a little while.”

“Oh! That’s clever.”

“Thank you. The more you know, am I right?”

“You know what I was just thinking of?”

“Yeah? I really have to go.”

“When you’re swimming, you’re a human submarine for the baby.”

It seemed to take Abby a minute to realize what he was saying. Very slowly, she brought her palm to her forehead.

Rowan then didn’t make it much better by adding, “Since when does a submarine have water inside? That would defeat the purpose.”

Lister thought about it and then gasped. “So… right now, you are a reverse human submarine!”

Abby looked at them both, clearly lost for words. “I’ll just go…” She closed the lounge door behind her.

After a good ten minutes of Rowan half laughing and half chastising Lister for saying the things he says, Lister threw his hands up in the air and claimed they seem to have “traded their sense of humour for a marriage certificate” two years ago.

Rowan immediately followed: “Speaking of marriage, any updates on that? You and…?”

“Well, my friend, that is precisely what we need to talk about today.”

“Okay. The meeting is officially in session, go.”

“First: am I the only one that was really surprised by Jimmy wanting to make us public? Because I really didn’t expect that at all.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s still full of surprises, huh?”

“That he is. However, Ro, I was thinking, and I still want to do a proposal. No – let me finish, it’s not that straightforward. I spent a lot of time talking to Jimmy about what he wants and how he sees the future, and you were super right in saying that I should never put him on the spot like that. Being so exposed to the public when we were kids messed with us in a big way, all of us.”

Rowan snapped his fingers in agreement.

“The idea is… It would be a proposal before a proposal. Like… I don’t know, announcing that I have the intention of proposing to him soon. And asking him if he is okay with that, you know? If he’s okay with the idea of saying yes. That way,” Lister gesticulated with his hands, “he’s not forced right there to say yes, the eventual real proposal can be sort of expected, which would calm him down a bit, but still a surprise, because when is it going to happen? I’m not saying.”

Rowan stared at him for about three seconds. “That was… a whole thing, buddy.”

“Thoughts?”

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Wait. You want to do a proposal before the actual proposal.”

“Yes.”

“On stage. At the same time you are announcing that the two of you are together?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. I thought like, more at the end, maybe.”

“Proposal before a proposal…”

“It’s clever, if you think about it.”

“To me, it just seems very extra, Lister. Which I know is your trademark, but –”

“No, but listen. I want to propose to Jimmy. He wouldn’t survive a big flashy proposal, but I still want to make it a big deal, because it is. Ergo, I announce that I want to spend the rest of my stupid little life with him and ask him if it is okay to propose to him one day, likely soon.”

Rowan’ expression changed. “That does make sense,” he said. “For the two of you, especially.”

“Okay then: dear dad, do I have your blessing?”

“Never call me that again. But yes.”

“You are the closest to being a father out of all of us.”

“That is not what it sounds like and you know it.”

JIMMY

The first show was an explosion of feeling and memories. Nauseous with anxiety, burdened with expectation and weak in the knees, Jimmy ran into his first appearance on the stage the same way he would run into the middle of the highway. The lights and screams and colours almost blew him to pieces and then glued him back together. His first words addressed to the crowd and the earth-shattering screams that came in answer woke something in him, a force of nature. The gig was rather small compared to those they ended on ten years ago, but the crowd loved them to pieces and oh, he felt so alive.

The second show was slightly bigger, yes, and their fans didn’t disappoint. Plenty of pride flags were chucked at him, and he waved them and gave them to his mates and it made him even more excited about what him and Lister were going to do the next time round. These people stayed with them for so long, this sea of faces that looked toward him… for many of them, he would be the representation they need, again.

He remembered being a young trans boy, questioning if there is a life, a future, for him. Where were all the queer adults? The trans adults? How could he imagine adult life if he had never seen someone like him live it?

There he was, now. Adult. Gay. Transgender. A lot of time, he still knew very little about what he was doing, but he had a boyfriend who knew equally little, and together, they might be just what some queer kid in the crowd yearns to see.

LISTER

It was D-Day. Christ and Mary, it was, and they were going to say it. Finally. The staff have been informed, the security has been strengthened, they did everything so that some fan wouldn’t try and knock them the fuck out…, but he was still incredibly nervous. Minutes before the show, among all the rush and flourish, he caught Jimmy and pulled him to the side, apologizing to a couple of sound guys securing some cables on the ground.

“How are you doing?” he blurted out.

“I’ll die, but maybe in a good way. You?”

“Same. Or I’ll throw up, in a bad way.”

“Wait really?”

“No, I’m sick, but not the vomiting kind.”

“Anxiety! Welcome to the club!” Jimmy shouted as he was being ushered away under the stage so he could come up on a platform.

More pushing, more ushering, and he stood next to Rowan.

Their intro – a dramatic organ solo as light flashed through the artificial fog like sunbeams – was rumbling all around them. The crowd was losing their minds. He didn’t know how, but he still heard Rowan whisper:

“Lister, promise me you won’t do the other thing today!”

“Told you I won’t, stop being patronizing!” he snapped back, but then it was their time, and they were on a stage, coming up from behind Jimmy, each on every side, acting astonished as they supposedly came down from Noah’s Ark onto new land.

Listed dared to put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they did so.

The show was on.

Here we go.

JIMMY

During the concert, he used every opportunity to interact with the audience that he had. It felt a bit manipulative at first – he wanted them to be up for a bit of talking, eventually – but then the feeling of guilt faded away. However complicated his relationship with the fans used to be, these people were the fans. They stayed loyal to them, they kept their music in their hearts, and came to this revival gig…

It would be okay, okay, okay.

When the last accords of the last song whizzed away into the night and he was thanking the crowd that stomped and cheered and waved signs in hope of an encore… he stopped at the front of the stage. Rowan strummed a few last cords on the guitar and fell silent.

He wished he had somewhere to sit down. His legs were shaking.

But he was not afraid. Not really.

“Now, you guys, these shows are very special for us. Because every single one of you, as we’re standing here and looking at each other, you have been waiting for so long…” His voice was drowned out by cheers. “For so long, you have not forgotten us, you came to our shows, you have been amazingly supportive, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” He shouted the last few words as the sea of faces roared in joy.

When they calmed down again, he continued. “And because you are the ones that stuck with us… because of that, I would like to say a few things to you.

If you know about the days of my youth…” Pause as people laughed and shouted affirmations at him. “…you would probably remember that I was presumed to be in a relationship with a person that is standing on the stage with me, right now.”

It was good that only a few people cheered. But it made him sick to the stomach, still.

“Okay, no,” Rowan came in, and people applauded, and he pointed at them with a not-so-fake scolding look, “no, no, don’t you woo at me, young lady. This is so utterly not a thing! Jimmy has never left the friendzone!”

“Same here,” Jimmy laughed and patted Rowan across the back, maybe a little too hard, overcompensating. “Did you all, like, miss that Rowan came out as straight all those years ago?”

People were laughing. Nobody really cared, they just found it funny. Rowan claimed he was leaving it to Jimmy before “the PR team has me taken out”, and retreated a few steps, leaving Jimmy to face the crowd again.

Deep breaths, he told himself.

“What I wanted to say was that there was one thing that those people back then got right.” Breathe in, breathe out. “I am gay.”

Two seconds of silence and then an absolute thunderstorm of an applause. A rainbow pride flag landed at his feet and Jimmy took it, with meek laughter, and put it around his shoulders. He heard Rowan cheer and clap too, and for what felt like years, he couldn’t get a word in. He wished the whole world could be like this.

“I – gosh, thank you all, I’m not sure whether it was a surprise,” he finally managed to say, his voice breaking a little from surprise, “but yeah. I am a trans, gay man…” The hall exploded with joyous noise. “…and it’s not all that there is to me, but I’m here. And queer. Hello.”

He thought he was going to pass out. He had a clever segway prepared, but he couldn’t remember a word of it. This was the moment. He wanted to say it, but at the same time… How could he? It was so hard, why do things have to be so hard?

“The other… the second thing,” he said, gripping the pride flag. “It is that… wow, it’s hard. It’s that I am…” He felt himself turn around, and like a lost child call: “Lister?”

Lister climbed out from behind the drum set instantly. Nobody cheered, there were only confused whispers. Jimmy looked at him, asking for help without words, and he knew, as he always did. Jimmy found a place to look, above the crowd, beyond everything, as Lister stepped in and slowly took his hand.

“The second thing is that we are together,” Lister said, his voice steady.

And the crowd lost it.

There were people wailing in happy tears. Screaming at the top of their lungs. A dissonance of chanting their names, all at a different rhythm, before Rowan ran up to them and hugged them and spurred the crowd on, and they stood there wrapped in a pride flag, and Jimmy was kind of crying and leaning on Lister, and it was another half an hour of a pure mess, before they really left the stage with their ears buzzing and eyes wide.

Jimmy and Lister tumbled into a corner somewhere, and Jimmy had happy tears streaming down his cheeks and they were kissing and holding each other and shaking.

“Oh, I’m such a mess,” Jimmy laughed as he was smearing tears and foundation on his sleeve.

“And I love you so much,” Lister blurted out in a moment of raw honesty.

“Me too,” Jimmy took one of his hands and kissed the palm. “I love you so fucking much it’s unreal sometimes.”

LISTER

This was, hands down, the most jittery Lister got before a show. Ever.

Currently, he found himself sat at an old sofa in the dressing room, hands clasped and both legs involuntarily jumping up and down. Was it annoying? Likely. But he had to let his knees jump in such a vigorous way because if he hadn’t, his teeth might start clattering.

He hated that he couldn’t just be pumped and excited. He had to feel this unsettling, buzzing mess of an emotion. Anxiety, as Jimmy informed him. This is what it’s like for an anxious person, he said… except make it all the time and often for no real reason.

Lister shook his head a little.

His reason, too, was basically nothing. He knew. As if Jimmy would actually reject him or something…

Or would he?

Maybe he could? Oh God, maybe he could…

“Hey! You’re actually scaring me, what’s up with you?!”

Lister blinked in confusion. He saw Jimmy as he was making his way over. A half scolding, half worried look decorated his face.

He lowered his voice when he added: “The last time I saw you like this was when you had withdrawal symptoms. You can tell me if that’s what it is.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine,” Lister insisted. Crap, he was panicking too hard to actually come up with anything convincing. Come on, Bird, focus… He’s onto you…

“Actually,” Rowan’s voice travelled to them from the corner, “I just think we had weird coffee.”

“What? But you’re fine.”

“Yeah, well,” Rowan continued to make up a story, “we both got one, but I didn’t like the taste, it was too strong. Lister felt bad for throwing them out so he finished both of them, didn’t you?”

“Ye-Yes,” he finally caught on. Had to admit, Ro was impressive at this. Lister started to believe what their friend used to say: that he can lie very well, he just chooses not to. “I didn’t want to waste it. The coffee.”

“Lister,” Jimmy grunted in disbelief, hands on his hips. “That was a brilliant idea, you walnut! Look at yourself, you’re gonna be sick now!”

“I’m not.”

“You look it.”

“I’m just…” He rubbed his clammy hands together. “I’m just anxious I guess.”

“Well, no shit. Why do you think I avoid caffeine?” Jimmy sighed and dropped into a squat in front of Lister. He took Lister’s hands in his. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not gonna have a heart attack, are you?”

“No, babe. I’m alright.” The last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to be anxious too.

He looked down at Jimmy. The realization dawned on him, as he noticed that his partner dropped onto one of his knees to be more comfortable; very soon, the roles will be reversed. It will be Lister down on one knee, only Jimmy would be standing up in that case…

Okay.

Wow.

This is what true internal screaming felt like.

“You need water, as in now,” Jimmy decided and jumped up. “I’ll need you to drink at least three glasses before we start, that should help.”

He rushed out of the room to get hands on some water. Rowan and Lister looked at each other, the pretence gone.

“Alright?” Rowan nodded.

“I’m fucking choking, dude,” Lister replied.

It almost looked as if his friend was going to give him advice, or maybe say something generic and calming… but instead, Rowan let out a small laugh. Lister’s lips started twisting without him giving the command.

And then the two collapsed laughing. The pressure of this being the very last show and the knowledge of what Lister was about to do at the end of it were just the right recipe for hysterics.

Jimmy didn’t bother to ask twice what the joke was, as long as they promised they weren’t laughing at him.

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

As the concert was coming to an end and the crowd was cheering and chanting for an encore, Rowan seized the opportunity and called: “Alright, friends, we would like to indulge you in a little experiment! Can you join me at the front, Lister?”

Lister got out from behind the drum set and jogged to meet the rest of the group. Jimmy smiled, but his eyes studied both of them suspiciously. “What is this?”

Lister lazily raised his arms with the palms of his hands towards the crowd. “I have to admit, we kind of didn’t tell Jimmy what this is about. Sorry, my guy.” People laughed. Rowan signalled someone backstage, as Lister added: “But just so you don’t feel left out, you can have this triangle.” A nervous assistant handed Jimmy the instrument and ran off again.

Everybody was jeering and whistling, but there was an air of anticipation in the air.

“Oh wow, that’s generous of you,” Jimmy grimaced.

“I know, right? Anyhow.” Lister took a step forward, trying to calm himself. He could do this. He had acting jobs, he could absolutely pull this off.

He was Lister freaking Bird! He was the fan favourite!

“Dear audience, allow me to tell you a tale,” he addressed the crowd in his best narrator voice. A couple of screams rose from the crowd, but everyone else was listening intently. Behind him, Rowan started strumming a little melody on his guitar – one they created especially as a backdrop to Lister’s talk.

“I know this is a little unusual,” Lister admitted to the sea of people, “I know that you’re used to stories coming to you via this man’s voice,” he pointed at Jimmy, “and this man’s lyrics.” Rowan. “I know that I am just a simple drummer in this arrangement. But today, I will do the voice and the words. Because, well… Talking all the time is the one thing I am actually good at.”

That made the crowd laugh. Good. Great.

“But now, on with the story!” he exclaimed and made a motion with his hands as if he was showing them a canvas.

“Picture this. We are all fifteen, stuffed into a tiny studio in London,” he smiled, as if nostalgic. His voice flowed out of him in a steady melody, like the hum of a river. “We all had that awkward long hair phase – yes, I see some true veterans in the audience today. Good,” he smiled at a couple of girls in the front who seemed to know exactly which haircuts he meant. He raised his hands again. “I am sitting outside the recording room, behind the glass. On the other side, there’s Jimmy. I can see him clearly, I hope you can too,” he said, keeping his dreamy smile. “The giant black hoodie. The fringe almost hiding his eyes. Jimmy waits for the cue, bouncing up and down,” he chuckled as he swayed up and down on his toes, “and then starts singing the interlude in our first album. It’s only about two lines that we need to record, but I remember wishing it lasted longer. Obviously. Because his voice is amazing.”

The audience started yelling and swooning at once. Lister was honestly more okay looking at them than if he had to look at Jimmy and see what his reaction is.

Now, here comes the real cliché.

“But then,” he paused with real embarrassment in his voice, “then he looked up from under his hair… at me, with those big brown eyes… and asked me, if he was okay.”

Breathe in, and:

“My friends, that was the moment I have fallen for Jimmy Kaga-Ricci.”

A roar of screams started rising from the audience, when Rowan strummed dramatically on the guitar, as if something tragic had happened. Lister shot a look at Jimmy and found him laughing. Surprised, but amused.

Thank fuck. I’ve never told him that before.

On the outside, he theatrically turned to Rowan and scolded him: “I was just getting sentimental here?”

Rowan shrugged and strummed a more positive jingle. Everyone laughed and clapped. Lister was starting to enjoy this, actually. He sighed and walked forward onto a prolonged platform where Jimmy was usually stood on.

“Well, maybe my trusty assistant was right with the sound effects,” he admitted jovially. “Because my crush absolutely did not like me back for years. Hey, but that’s not to throw shade at the guy,” he added quickly to prevent any pitiful reaction that would make Jimmy feel bad. “Because you have to consider that I was and still am a bloody mess of a person.” That amused the listeners. Lister turned round, as he exclaimed. “I am the creator of problems, the maker of terrible decisions. We can all agree that Jimmy is a lovely lad…” He had to pause for the overwhelming reaction in support of that statement. “Yes, he is, but inflicting my teenage self upon him, that would just not be right.”

Jimmy suddenly clanked the metal stick against the triangle in an absolute cacophony to draw attention to himself. “Excuse me,” he called to Lister, “could you stop insulting yourself? I would enjoy that.”

A girl somewhere below them screamed as if she was getting murdered. They exchanged a quick glance, as if to say a little yikes, but then Lister laughed it off.

“Sorry, sorry,” he continued. “Through it all, Jimmy was always here for me. He was one of my first real friends. He was understanding when I needed it most, and ready to kick my ass when I needed it most.” He smiled at his boyfriend and hoped his voice is not shaking. “Look at you, Jimmy! I’m being embarrassing in front of hundreds of people and you still haven’t walked off stage.”

Jimmy laughed and lightly hit the triangle. He was ever the professional, but his eyes glimmered in curiosity. Expectation.

Lister kept looking at him. Rowan was strumming a slightly different melody now, and if Lister did say so himself, the atmosphere was fucking perfect.

“What I want to say is…, I feel that we were together before we got together. We were always partners. A great team. Maybe you wouldn’t think the same,” he admitted to Jimmy, “but a girl can dream. Oh! A rhyme!” He exclaimed to a symphony of awwws and ooohs. People were laughing again, clapping here and there. “That will be the only time!” Lister made a face of feigned shock. “Or not? Wow, I’m unpredictable!”

“You’re hot,” Jimmy rhymed with unexpected confidence.

The crowd was screaming their heads off at this interaction. Even Lister was a little flustered. He came back to his bandmates and gestured toward Jimmy, who was still smirking a little. “And he can improv, what’s not to like, honestly!”

Now, there came the challenge. Lister took a deep breath and prayed to all deities that were listening for this to come off as more sweet than cringy.

His voice fell into a different rhythm. One he kept studying every possible minute from any good slam poetry or original poem reading he could find online.

“But now, if our audience permits,” he put one hand on his chest, turning directly to Jimmy, “I would like to address you. Because, dear Jimmy, although I love each face in the crowd, my friends, my family, those that are both… I can state loud and proud that the biggest part of my heart goes to you.” He grinned sheepishly at Jimmy’s stunned expression, when he added: “If not all of it.”

“I can only guess what goes on in that mind, whether you think this is suspicious or kind… I can’t know these things. But there is one thing I do know. That no matter how much we grow, what we lose and what we gain, through all the smiles and all the pain, I will love you. It’s as big and as small as this. And today was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. So, nobody panic, stay in your seats. It’s not what it looks like.”

He got down on one knee in front of his boyfriend.

Jimmy gasped in sync with the audience: “Lister!” He backed away.

“Oh no, mister, don’t panic,” Lister retorted. That managed to amuse Jimmy a little – that he would know this would be the reaction. The audience was still going absolutely wild. Another pride flag just about missed Lister’s left ear.

“As I said, it’s not what it looks like. And I’m sick of rhyming by now, so…” He reached for Jimmy’s hand. Pulled it down to his by the triangle and encouragingly pressed a thumb into his palm. “I wanted to tell you – in a way that means something – that I don’t see myself living my life with anyone but you. So I have a question. Can you imagine me proposing in the near future?”

Jimmy looked like he suddenly couldn’t speak any human language. The only thing that came from his open lips was: “Huh?”

He was trying not to panic. To explain it well. Better than he had to Rowan.

“I would like to start talking about marriage. With you. I’m asking your permission to… go pick out a ring, perhaps. And propose to you. One day.”

“You want to…” He was trying so hard to make sense of this situation. Lister could almost hear the wheels in his brain clanking and whirring. After a second, Jimmy blurted out about the last thing Lister expected. “You really want to marry me?”

He had to laugh. That sounded so bizarre! You have the wrong number, I don’t think you want to marry me, of all people. As if.

Covering Jimmy’s hand with both of his own, he answered: “Who else, Jimmy?”

As there was no instant reply, Lister felt the audience grow impatient.

This was the time to smooth things out. Make it amusing.

“Okay, I don’t want to stress you out. You can just think about it,” he ensured his partner. But I just wanted to let you know my, er, intentions.” Wow, great choice of words, Bird. But was there any better? He decided to make fun of himself a little when he sarcastically added: “Because this is the regency era, apparently.”

People were losing it. However, Lister was only looking at Jimmy now… and realized that the eyes of his boyfriend were welling up with tears as he looked down. Were they happy or sad tears? Shit.

“Oh…” Lister managed to say, when Jimmy dropped the triangle on the floor with a thud and shakily took Lister’s face into his soft palms.

His voice was trembling with emotion, as he answered:

“Allister Bird, I would love to marry you. I don’t think you even need to propose again.”

Before Lister could even register what he meant, Jimmy leaned down and gently pressed a kiss at his forehead. This was probably as close to kissing in public as Jimmy would ever allow.

Lister finally realized. He realized.

At the same time, Jimmy dropped down and Lister shot up. They embraced each other tightly, a mess of crumpled clothes and limbs and teary laughing, and Lister almost lifted Jimmy off the ground as he was happy-crying into the shorter man’s shoulder.

They heard Rowan screaming at the top of his lungs: “HE SAID YES, PEOPLE!” His voice was drowned out by the massive storm of excited screams that wouldn’t seize for good twenty minutes after.

But Lister and Jimmy didn’t really pay attention.

Paradoxically, although everyone could see them – and everyone would see them, as the news probably already travelled through the internet at the speed of light – it felt like this moment was theirs alone.

[holycow99]

石田お寿司 21/11/21 Translation Part 9

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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(t/n: * at the end of sentence = translation may not be accurate)

Another Saito Naoki episode

C: I used to watch Saito Naoki’s videos.

I: Used to? You don’t watch them anymore? Watch them. I feel anxious if you don’t. Watch them occasionally.

C: Saito Naoki said he was very happy that you praised his song on his stream the other day.

I: Really? You’re not lying? He’s talking about that stream on his stream? Is it okay? I’ve played the song throughout the stream without permission. Was it okay?

C: Sensei, do you like Nyango Star?

I: I like it. His skill is the real deal.

(t/n: Nyango Star is a popular cat-apple mascot, who’s known for being a pro drummer. You can check videos of him playing drum on youtube.)

C: Naoki was super delighted.

I: Then, I’ll join Palette Group. (laughs) I’m gonna put Palette Group in a pedestal after having said that about me by The Saito Naoki. (laughs) I’m gonna be the Executive Assistant. I’m gonna keep flattering Saito Naoki. Even though I was criticising him behind his back. (laughs) This kind of person is hated the most by people. (laughs) Even though I talked bad about him, but I didn’t say anything bad. I just didn’t really agree with him. (laughs) I’m wavering. Palette Group would have additional 200 members if you guys were to join them. I wanna be of service to Saito Naoki. There’s no one as magnificent as Saito Naoki. Don’t you think so too?

C: Let’s all join Palette Group and wreak havoc to the group.

I: Saito Naoki would think that I’m plotting something if he saw comments like this when he came across my stream occasionally. He might think of us as some sort of bandits. (laughs) Don’t use that kind of phrases.

C: Won’t you create Osushi Group?

I: It’s better if I form Osushi Group.

C: I can be a spy for you.

I: That’s good. I’ve been waiting for someone like you. I’ll give you a code name, then. I’ll name you James. Call yourself as James.

C: Let’s kill 10 people each.

I: (laughs) Let’s do that.

C: I don’t wanna fight with Palette Group.

I: It’s not a good idea to fight the group now. The group is scary. We don’t know what they’d do to us. Naoki is impressive when he gets angry. He made a video of him answering haters’ comments and he exposed them. (laughs) His face was smiling, but his eyes full of murderous intent. (laughs) You could feel the deep-seated anger in him. (laughs) Ah, I really love Saito Naoki! I really want you guys to watch that video of him answering comments from haters. His eyes and his deep anger. He didn’t burst out, but he’s scary. (laughs) That video was scary. I recommend that video.

C: Sensei, he’ll expose you if he thinks you are a hater.

I: That’s true. That’s not good. I’ll be exposed. It’s scary. (laughs) He would say “You’re totally wrong!” (Saito Naoki’s famous phrase). I wonder what he’d say.

C: There’s a possibility a spy from the group had been sent here. Better be careful before you send a spy over there.

I: That’s right. Someone had told him what I said. There’s a Palette Group’s spy here. There’s one person from the group in the previous stream. Is he the one? From now on, I’ll ban anyone who says anything about Palette Group. I’ll kill the spy. James, find out who the spy is. There’s a spy among us. Find them out and bring them before me. Okay? Make sure you do that.

I: This is bad. There’s already spy infiltrating us. It’s not a possibility anymore, it’s already happening. We’ve been invaded before we knew it. The person himself won’t come here, since he’s busy. Saito Naoki is an early to bed and early to rise man. (laughs) That’s how I imagine him to be.

C: Won’t you collaborate with Saito Naoki?

I: What for? It’d be me fanboying over him one-sidedly. He’s not interested in me.

I: But I want to infiltrate Palette Group. I wanna join them. Should I? It’s time for me to join, even though I’m hesitated to do so.  

Ishida talking about if his series ranks No.1 in Young Jump Poll.

C: I’m submitted Young Jump survey response.

I: Thank you. I’m happy.

C: Me too. It’s easier since I can do it online.

I: You can do the survey online? Really? It’s become like that? I seriously don’t know anything.

*A lot of people in the chat mentioned that they’ve done YJ survey.

I: You guys have done it more than I expected. I’m happy. Let’s beat Kingdom. I also will work hard. What should I do if I got to beat Kingdom and acquire the no.1 spot? How I dance naked at the rooftop of Fukuoka City Hall? I’ll try getting arrested. What do you think?

C: Please stop.

I: (laughs)But I’d do something if I were to get no.1. I’ll do a special stream secretly. If that really happens, I’ll do something. Though I’m not sure what I would do.

C: It seems like it’s possible if each of us submits 3 surveys.

I: People who do the survey submit it every week, I think. I’m just a newbie to Young Jump’s veteran readers. They might hate me, thinking I got ahead of myself. It’s hard to beat them unless we get non YJ readers to read YJ.

C: Is there any reward for you if you rank first in the poll?

I: Nope, but the editorial department will know. It might be a good memory for them. They might take better care of me. But the YJ staffs are taking care of me currently. They are, like, giving me special treatment. I’m being totally spoiled by them. I feel really bad doing the manga based on my pace. Usually, it’s supposed to be serialised in the magazine. I selfishly requested for it to be online. But then, I wanna be spoiled more by them. I’m gonna compensate for the time, where I never got the chance to be pampered. When I’m spoiled, I’ll be in high spirits. Then, I can share the energy with everyone. I’ll feel like doing my best.

C: You said you’re doing the manga on your own pace, but you sure work fast.

I: I haven’t updated the chapter yet this month, but I’ve cut out some of the drafts. And I cut around 2 volumes worth of drafts. I’m working hard right now. I think it’s going well according to my plan. If I continue with my plan, I can go for 80 pages a month. I’m drawing all the drafts by myself in a weekly pace. I wanna say more about me doing the manga all by myself, but someone in the chat once told me that I’m annoying for bragging about it. I was like “what’s wrong with that? Since it's really hard to do them all by myself.” But then, that has nothing to do with them. Well, it’s just that I’ve worked that much and I’m very proud of it.

Ishida on having assistants and maids

C: Are you not gonna hire an assistant?

I: I did think of hiring assistant at one point. When I came down with a fever during the part of the 2nd volume, I thought it’d be good if I had an assistant at times like this. So, I had around 2 people helping me for a day. It’s not a bad thing if I had assistants, but I wanna try drawing it alone.

C: How’s your fever?

I: It’s okay. I suddenly got a fever. My temperature was around 38 degrees Celsius. I already panicked. I thought it was Covid-19. But I got better after a day.

C: I’ll be your maid.

I: That’s good. I’ll hire everyone who can be maids and made a harem out of it. I’ll have around 20 maids in my work studio. I’ll hire men young or old as well. I’ll have 20 maids with their outfit standing upright behind me. (laughs) Then, I must be able to work hard, since I’ll get scared by the maids. I’ll make a news with that.

C: It’ll be great to sleep while being surrounded by ladies.

I: I won’t sleep. It’s embarrassing. I’ll do my work. I’ll ask them to leave when I wanna sleep. I…wanna sleep alone. (laughs) After the day ends, I’ll thank them and say goodbye.

C: I was forced to wear maid-like outfit for my part time job at a convenience store for a day during Halloween.

I:  That happens sometimes. Even though they’re forced to wear the outfit, I do think they look cute.

C: How much will you pay hourly?

I: (laughs) How much will it be… It’s negotiable. I’ll pay you a good amount.*

C: You’ll get paid?

I: (laughs) Everyone does wanna get paid. (laughs) You guys didn’t feel kinda honoured that you guys can watch how a mangaka work. Instead, you guys ask about salary. (laughs) As expected, everyone’s a realist.

C: If you can give at least the travelling expenses…

I: I can give that.

*A lot of people asking for travelling expenses.

I: Supposing that I do a signing session, do I have to give transport fare? (laughs) You guys are like “We’ll go to your signing session. Will you give money for transportation?”. (laughs) it’s better if you don’t come if that’s the case. (laughs) I’m not that altruistic. But I am fine with giving money for that though. (laughs)

C: It’s okay if I don’t get paid.

I: Later, people who are okay with no salary will gather.

C: I’ll pass if I you won’t pay the travelling expense. LOL

I: I also don’t wanna hire that kind of person. Just stay at home and watch the stream. *Sigh* I thought if you guys come, we’d have a bunch of fun conversations, but travelling expenses, huh?

C: I have a commuter pass, so I don’t have to pay for transportation.

I: From where to where can you go with the pass? Can you go to my house with that?

C: will there be seats over there?

I: I’ll prepare seats for you guys as well. If you guys are tired from standing, you guys can sit.

SY: This strays from the topic, but will you play games that have good story?

I: Who give you the authority to change the topic? (laughs) We’re talking about maids here. I don’t understand your question, in the first place. What do you mean by that? I do play games with good stories.

I: I wanna hire people who are willing to work without paid as well as people who wanna get paid. Let’s have both factions fight each other.

C: Sensei, it okay to wear a Kappogi? (t/n: Kappogi is a gown-like apron from Japan.)

I: On the flip side, Kappogi is better.

I: I’ll create a hierarchy among the maids and give them reasons to fight about. There will be hierarchy, favouritism, and discrimination in the workplace.

C: If there are people with salary working there, the people who, at first, work for free would want to be paid as well.

I: It’ll be a psychological experiment. But those who work for free will get special treatment. Those who get paid will work, since they’re there for the money. They’ll get minimal treatment.

C: No salary is better…

I: See?

C: You’ll be killed in the end.

I: That’s true. Seems like there are cases like that.

*People in the chat suddenly wanna work for free.

I: See? I’ll treat those who work for free like a family. Those who get paid will be treated professionally.

C: Then I’ll work for free.

I: Those who want salary, feel free to tell me. I’ll pay you together with the travelling fare. Just keep in mind what kind of reality awaits you.

Part 10

[childrenofthenightt]

only the black rose (chapter 8)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: big nsfw warning, drinking, jimmy being himself, fluff

words: 3.6k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: so. layla’s a freak in the... well... not necessarily the sheets, i guess? more stressy hands because they're my weakness, and just... please savour the last bit of happiness you get here. that is all. (two more chappies to go!!!) hope you enjoy :) feedback as always is so very welcome!

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

———

As she’s checking over the stage, ensuring the lights and speakers are set to do their job, Layla’s thoughts roam. After the chaos at the hotel pool, while everyone was asleep, Layla had been anything but. Her tossing and turning had disturbed Jimmy, who had pulled her further into his arms with a tired grunt. She lay there for another hour, her conversation with Jonesy running through her mind over and over. It was obvious she’d have to go back to her own time, and she missed her friends. She missed her mom. She missed everything.

Layla couldn't help, though, but think that maybe she didn’t want to leave.

 She had made friends that meant the world to her, and… she’d found Jimmy. The guitarist had changed her life, and had shown her what it meant to love. She’s falling for him, and it’s not long before she hits the ground. It’ll be worth it, she thinks, for someone like him. Jimmy Page is a rare gem, precious, and she knows that she would spend her life trying to find her way back to him.

A throat clears from behind her, and, looking over her shoulder, Layla spots Peter Grant standing a few feet away. Soft smile resting upon his lips, he steps closer, placing a large hand on Layla’s shoulder.

“Layla, I trust everything’s going well?”

“Yep! Lights and sound are looking good, and the stage is set up. Anything else you need me to do?”

“No, this is perfect, dear,” Peter shakes his head, smile morphing into a smirk as he continues. “Though, you’ve been requested elsewhere. Follow me, Layla.” Leading her through the venue, Peter stops in front of a closed door, a laminated sign next to it reading, “Dressing Room: Led Zeppelin”. Turning to Layla, he holds out an arm, beckoning her to take it.

“Shall we?”

“We shall, Peter.”

Arm in arm, they walk into the room. Robert, lying elegantly across the comfortable couch pressed against the wall, has his eyes closed. He hasn’t thrown up yet, but his voice is hoarse, and he has a terrible cough. Knowing these boys as well as she does, Layla suspects that nothing will bring them down. The show must go on, after all. Bonzo is next to him, Robert’s feet in his lap. The drummer speaks quietly to the sick man, who answers in the voice of a 20-year smoker. Jonesy speaks in hushed tones to Jimmy, eyebrows pinched in worry. Jimmy, Layla realizes, has his finger in a bowl of what looks to be ice water, if the cubes of ice scattered across the table are anything to go by. From the doorway, Layla can’t hear what’s being said, but by the downwards tilt of Jonesy’s lips, she can assume Jimmy’s stubbornness is on full display again. Her entrance with Peter hadn’t been noticed, until Robert’s eyes open to slits and he sits up, a smile breaking out on his face.

“Peter! Ah, look, if it isn’t my favourite little dove…”

“Hey, Robert. How are you feeling?”

“Better, better,” Robert smiles, and stands up to pull Layla into a hug, hands splayed across her back. “All thanks to you, Layla. Seriously, thank you for taking care of me.”

Layla grins in response, waving at Bonzo as she passes. He lifts up a hand, as if to splash the woman, and her face lights up, a giggle flying out past her lips. Layla walks over to Jonesy, and he gives her an uncertain look, beckoning her closer. Leaning close, he whispers into the woman’s ear, a worried glance at the guitarist beside him following.

“He was in a lot of pain, even with the meds, so he, uh… found a bottle of Jack’s and… Layla, he won’t listen.”

As if on cue, Jimmy takes a pull from the large bottle of whiskey that rested next to him on the table. Layla hadn’t noticed it, walking in, but it stuck out like a sore thumb now.

“Hey, petal,” Jimmy slurs slightly, bottle in hand as he sends the woman a lazy smile. Injured finger in plain view now, Layla can see how the nail is completely black, the skin around it still dyed purple from the force applied to it. Layla shakes her head, eyes downcast, as she walks closer to Jimmy. She grasps the bottle of alcohol in his hand, replacing it with her own, a warm palm meeting his.

“Jimmy… you can’t just…” Layla drifts off, not wanting to argue with him this close to showtime. They can always talk about this later, after all. Jimmy, noticing her internal battle even through his alcohol-fueled haze, pulls her into his lap. Jonesy, confident that Jimmy is in good hands, nods at Layla before giving the couple a moment to themselves. Jimmy brings a finger to the apple of Layla’s cheek, stroking it almost hesitantly, as though she would break under a stronger touch. Layla’s eyes, once meeting his, drift to his plump, pink lips. They shine in the artificial light, as he swipes his tongue across to wet them.

“Layla,” Jimmy starts, snapping her out of her trance. Her eyes meet his, and he smirks at her dilated pupils. She knew he had caught her staring, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What is the meaning of life? Please, answer seriously. This is important.”

“Jimmy, I didn’t peg you as someone who indulges in drunk philosophical discussions.”

Jimmy huffs a sigh, and leans in closer, pressing a quick kiss against her lips. Pulling back, he looks at their joined hands, before meeting her eye once more.

“Humour me.”

“Well—”

Before she could answer, Peter floats back into the room, telling the boys to follow him backstage. It’s showtime, and Layla doesn’t want her guitarist to leave yet. Jimmy looks at her expectantly, green eyes searching her face as though the answer to his question was written in the curve of her lips.

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” she says, squeezing the hand in hers, passing courage from one to the other. “We can continue this after the show.”

Jimmy nods, and releases her hand slowly, not wanting to break the contact. Layla hops out of his lap, and helps him stand. Her lips meet his in a soft kiss, as she presses their foreheads together. Their eyelashes flutter against each other, and the scent of citrus, tobacco and pine was ever-present, invading all of Layla’s senses. Jimmy pulls away first, and walks to the door, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She smiles at him, adrift in the empty dressing room, and he smiles back, walking out the door.

“Good luck, angel.” Layla whispers, voice swallowed up by the silence of the deserted dressing room.

Making her way to the familiar lip of the backstage area, Layla’s hands wring together, her lips bitten red. Robert hadn’t sounded well at all earlier, and Jimmy… It seemed like he was deteriorating right before her eyes. The mixture of codeine and Jack Daniels killed the pain, sure, but he was no longer the sharp, pragmatic man she was falling for. He was too caught up in the burn of the drink down his throat, a way to forget the agony rushing through his hand like a current. Bringing her attention back to the stage, she spots the boys, who share a loaded glance. Robert takes a deep breath, and launches right in. ‘Rock and Roll’ passes without a hitch, save for some voice cracks. If anything though, they add to the authentic performance, the crowd electric as usual. ‘Sick Again’ stuns, followed by ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’, and all is well, until ‘How Many More Times’ rolls around.

It was small. Insignificant, really. If Layla hadn’t been searching Jimmy’s face, entranced by the way his brow furrowed as he got lost in the music, she wouldn't have noticed. Breaking apart from the rest of the band to complete a complicated lick, Jimmy’s fingers trip up on the fretboard. To the audience, the only consequence is a slight dead note in the midst of heavenly riffs. Gazing over at Jimmy, however, Layla could see the discomfort in the downwards tilt of his lips, and the pain stiffening his shoulders. She could see the anger flaming in his dark eyes. Jimmy recovers well, delivering attack after attack, though his solos, from that point on, tended to go a little off-track. Whether from nerves or self-doubt, Layla didn't know. But she knows him. She knows the guitarist will let it cloud the entire night. She knows he’s gonna pick the show apart, minute after exhilarating minute, looking for the smallest flaw. Layla knows that she’ll be there for him through it all.

No matter what.

----------

With a hoarse thank you and a flourish directed at the audience, Robert finally leads the band off-stage to voltaic cheers. Robert, ecstatic as ever during the concert, seems to deflate the second he gets off. With a nod and a soft smile at Layla, he disappears into the depths of the backstage area. Jonesy and Bonzo pass by with tight-lipped smiles, clapping her on the shoulder as they follow Robert. Jimmy is the last to appear, and the reason for the rhythm section’s warning glances becomes apparent immediately.

Jimmy scowls as he approaches, eyes glassy, as though she were looking into a clear stream. Layla can see herself reflected in them; can see the worry reflected in her own gaze. Slipping a hand around his bicep, she steers Jimmy into a corner. He refuses to look at her, even as her hand tilts his face upwards softly.

“Jimmy, love, that was—”

“Shit.”

“No, not at all,” Layla steps closer, a hand finding the familiar spot on his cheek. “It was a great show. You saw the audience, Jim. They loved you guys!”

“It was shit, and everyone knows it. If I could just—”

“Jimmy, come on…”

“—be good enough, this would have gone differently.”

Layla’s breath catches, eyes as wide as saucers as she steps closer to the guitarist, who turns away. His gaze at the floor never wavers as he paces, muttering to himself.

“Jimmy, look at me,” Layla stops him in his tracks with a hand at his back. His shoulders heave with deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down. “You played a good gig. It doesn’t matter if you missed a note or two. You came to play a great show, and you did.”

“But it isn't enough. These people came here for an extraordinary show and we couldn't deliver. I couldn't deliver, and—”

“Hey—”

“—if my finger wasn’t broken, we would have been as good as we’ve always been. This is my fault.”

“Jimmy, this isn’t on you. You did nothing wrong.”

Jimmy’s hands fly up to land in his hair, as he pulls at it almost unconsciously. Layla grips his cheek lightly, as the other hand comes to rest at a thin wrist, pulling it away from the dark locks it had latched onto. Jimmy averts his eyes from the woman’s earnest gaze and turns his back once more, treading a hole in the wooden floor of the backstage area. Layla’s palm rubs soft circles into the fabric of his cardigan, patches of whispering dandelions catching on her fingers. From her place behind him, she can see the way he’s beating a fist into the palm of his injured hand repeatedly, perhaps a way to atone for a mistake that hasn’t been committed.

“I fucked up this tour. It’s my fault. I can’t do everything I know I can do, and that’s on me. I just…”

“Jimmy…”

“I can’t do this anymore!”

Layla shrinks back slightly at the exclamation form the man, who is shaking like a leaf. His head drops, long hair hiding his face once again. Recovering quickly, she spins him around carefully to face her. Hands cupping his cheeks, she presses her lips to his. His eyes flutter closed and he immediately reciprocates, a hand pressed to Layla's hips; his new favourite spot for them. Jimmy lets out a whine of pleasure, and Layla pulls away, looking into his tired eyes.

“Jimmy, listen to me. You did play well. I am so, so proud of you. Okay?”

“...Okay. I’ll… work on trying to believe you.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

If Layla sees the sparkle and shine of tears on the man’s cheeks, she doesn't mention it as she grabs his hand, leading him to an empty room, locking the door immediately.

Finally away from prying eyes, Layla unfurls the guitarist’s hands from their clenched position, bringing the injured one up near her mouth. Gazing up at him, eyes shining in the dim light of the room, she presses a chaste kiss to each finger, slowing as she reaches the one painted shades of purple and black and blue. Jimmy nods, exhale shaky, and she presses the softest of kisses to the tip, hoping to cause pleasure rather than pain.

Jimmy’s hands slide lower from their place on her hips to cup her bum lightly, in case she was uncomfortable and wanted to slip out of his grasp. Her lips find his again as he pushes her against the large table in the middle of the room. Layla lets out a whimper, swallowed by the mouth against hers, as Jimmy’s tongue laps at her bottom lip, asking for entrance. He’s always been soft with her, but this new side of the dark-haired guitarist excited her. The kiss was over as soon as it began, Jimmy pulling away to stare at her, close enough still that their noses touched.

“Petal, I… We were gonna take it slow, and we will, but if you're ready…”

“I’m ready.”

Jimmy smiles, crashing his lips against her quickly, passionately. Pulling back once more, Jimmy smirks as Layla chases the high the feel of his lips gave her. Pressing into his space again, she frowns, which makes Jimmy chuckle. Layla’s hand reaches up, twisting in his hair.

“Angel,” Layla starts, a light tug on a mussed ebony ringlet following the nickname. His mossy eyes were dark with desire, and he placed his lips on her neck, kissing a trail down her jaw, stopping at her collarbone. Slipping the sweat-soaked cardigan off his shoulders, she traces a line down his cheek, eyes glued to his blush-red lips. “Can you lie down on the table for me? Please do try not to break any other body parts.”

“Haven’t I told you I’m afraid of heights?”  Jimmy laughs, and with a small smile thrown over his shoulder, he hops up onto the table.

“You overlooked that, love,” Layla says, unbuttoning her blouse ever-so-slowly, surely teasing the guitarist, who leans back on his elbows. His eyes follow her every move as she takes off the rest of her clothing. “Now, I feel like you might have too many clothes on, Jim. We need to be even, after all.”

Slipping his pants and underwear off in record time, he reclines back, already hard. Fully exposed now, Layla climbs up onto the table as well, straddling the man’s lap, before sinking herself onto him. A calloused hand lands on her hips, helping her find the perfect position, until a soft groan rang through the near-empty room. Jimmy’s hands move up to her breasts, toying with the woman’s nipples, much to her delight. Layla grabs onto his chest for support, craning her head back in pure euphoria at the sensation, the hollow of her neck exposed as Jimmy raises up to nip at it. Grinding her hips to the rhythm of the man’s soft groans, she trails hickies up his chest and neck.

“Something to remember me by.” she says, looking at him with dark eyes, a haze of lust filling them. Hand gripping Layla’s ass tightly, he brings her ever-closer, a mumbled “fuck” leaving the woman’s kiss-bitten lips. The guitarist’s face is creased with absolute exhilaration, as he rocks back and forth to the movement of Layla’s body on his. The couple didn’t know where one ended and the other began. Ecstasy fills the room, and whispers of praise flow like music from lips bruised and bitten.

“You did so well today, angel. You’re incredible.”

Jimmy raises up once more to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, a hand raking through the woman’s hair roughly, landing on her throat. Jimmy squeezes it lightly, warningly, and presses his lips to Layla’s once more, swallowing the shriek of pleasure she gasps out.

“You liked that, petal?” Jimmy’s hoarse voice reaches Layla’s ears almost belatedly, too caught up in the pleasure of his hands on her, though she nods as if her life depended on it. Panting hard now, Layla quickens her pace, noises of pleasure growing louder. With the friction of his hand on her, roaming everywhere it could reach, Layla felt divine; heavenly in this embrace. Leaning down for a heavy, passionate kiss, Jimmy’s hand finds her hair again, and he tugs on it hard. The pain elicits a moan from Layla, as she reaches her peak.

With a stuttered breath, Jimmy releases as well, gasps leaving his lips as he looks at Layla reverently. The wetness from her core rushes over him as she lays back down beside him, spent. Back arching as she pants, her head turns to face him, faces painted with bliss.

In a post-coitus haze, Jimmy has his arms wrapped securely around Layla’s shoulders, as her head rests on his chest. Layla giggles tiredly, as her breaths ruffle the dark hair on Jimmy’s chest. Looking up at him, she’s pleased to see him looking right back at her.

“That certainly cheered you up, didn’t it?”

“You’re the best at cheering me up after all. This, of course, was just a bonus.” Jimmy noses at her messy hair, smelling a combination of fresh linen, sweat and her shampoo; hints of strawberry and mango tickling his nose.

“We should get up, the boys are probably looking for us,” Layla says, dragging light fingers across his stomach, watching goosebumps appear on the pale skin. Whether it’s from the sensation or the chill of the table, Layla didn't know, but she’s comfortable in his embrace, in danger of drifting off.

“What if we just… stayed here forever. They can find another guitarist.”

“You’re pretty irreplaceable, Page,” Layla whispers, reaching up to press her lips to his jaw. “I mean, who would the boys chaperone if you were gone?”

“Chaperone? I’m not that bad. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Right, so Robert was lying about the time you refused to sleep for 5 days out of pure adrenaline? New York, 1973, I believe it was?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought. We need to have a serious talk about your habits, Jimmy.”

With a chuckle from the guitarist, the two lapse into a comfortable silence, as Jimmy presses a kiss to the top of Layla’s head, nuzzling it with his cheek.

“Hey,” Layla shifts to look up at him, eyes filled with adoration. She felt as though she were looking at a star. Beautiful and shining, but out of reach, as much as she wished for the opposite. She knew this couldn’t last, though she’d savour every last minute of it that she could. “I need to… tell you something.”

“What’s wrong, Layla?”

“Nothing’s wrong, really. It’s… kind of the opposite, actually.”

Jimmy tilts his head in confusion, turning on his side to face her. He looked like a puppy, hair wild about his head, and Layla couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“S-So,” Layla shifts, nervous all of a sudden. Jimmy grips her hand in his, and nods when their eyes finally meet. “Do you remember what you asked me earlier? About the… meaning of life. You might not remember, you were a little out of it, and—”

“I remember. You’re rambling, petal. What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s… it’s love. The meaning of life is… love. Jimmy, I…um…”

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I’m… I guess... What I’m trying to say is,” Layla says, taking a deep breath as she looks into the eyes that captivate her, and make her smile, and set her on fire. “I’m falling in love with you, and I just… Yeah.”

Jimmy grins brightly, surging forward to capture her lips in a kiss bursting with joy. He laughs into it, as their noses brush together, his finger tracing nonsensical designs across her side.

“Very eloquently put, Porter.”

“Oh my God, I just confessed that I’m falling for you, and you focus on—”

“I’m falling in love with you too. I thought that may have been obvious, considering the state of this poor table.”

“W-Well,” Layla stutters, blushing crimson as Jimmy’s plush lips tilt up in a picture-perfect smirk. “Put your clothes on, Page. The boys are probably waiting for us.”

Jimmy laughs, but redresses in his stage clothes, turning to stare at Layla as she slips her jeans back on. Buttoning up her shirt and flattening her hair, which frizzed up like a halo around her flushed face, she gazes over at Jimmy. Crowding into his space, she put a hand to the back of his neck, up on her tiptoes to peck at his lips once more. He slips a hand to her cheek, and deepens the kiss. Pulling away to glimpse the golden smile that rests on Layla’s lips, he feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Arm in arm, they walk out of the room, twin smiles nearly splitting their faces. Jimmy glances over at Layla, and can’t believe just how lucky he is.

Screw falling in love, he thinks.

This is love, and he knows it for sure, now.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

[woodrokiro]

Do It For the Band, Part Six (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, Three, Four, and Five. 

Tatsuki never thought she’d live to see the day that she has to drag herself to jam with her friends.

Sure, she’s been pretty hung over on some of her work days; but she was always, always able to pull herself out of bed, pop a couple of Tylenol and be on her way to make a racket. It made no sense how she could still be giddy to beat some loud drums when she had a throbbing headache - but.

She loved it. She loved her band. 

She still does… But she hates Ichigo right now.

Ichigo, who’s being a real insensitive dick. Ichigo, who went on a date with Orihime, aka her-best-friend-aka-longtime-love-of-her-life-maybe-who-knows-she-never-got-a-chance-to-find-out-cuz-of-her-dickwad-friend. 

Ichigo, who is doing this as some stupid fucking vendetta against Rukia, or to forget her, or whatever the fact is being a dumbass and everyone is having to pay for it.

Needless to say: she’s worked herself up to a pretty furious state by the time she rages to practice.  

She stomps over to Chad’s garage, viciously lifting the the heavy door while simultaneously (unreasonably) half expecting to be faced with the sight of Ichigo and Orihime making out - 

When her eyes adjust to see into the garage, there’s none of that (thank God). They’re not even next to each other. Instead, she’s met with a very different sight.

Ichigo’s stewing in the corner, hands stuffed in his pocket and visibly grinding his teeth. Chad is sitting quietly next to him but definitely trying to blend himself into the shadows more than usual. Orihime is looking down at her hands across the room, silent and stiff.

And Rukia is plugging her phone into their speaker jack rather manically. 

“Ah, good afternoon Tatsuki!” Rukia greets the drummer with a too-large, sparkling smile that she recognizes as Rukia’s favorite mask to put on when she’s pissed. The vocalist has noticeable bags under her eyes from… Lack of sleep? Crying? Who knows. Her heart cracks for her.

The pity doesn’t last long when Rukia continues, sickly-sweet. “Since Ichigo was so kind to tell us we should start working on new stuff - “

“Woah woah woah, I didn’t tell you - ”

“My mistake!” Rukia sends Ichigo a somehow-withering smile that could kill. “You’re so right, we all agreed. In any case, I decided to start sooner rather than later. I recorded a quick version by myself last night at - oh, I don’t know, two A.M. - and sent it to Urahara by five.”

Ichigo’s foot starts tapping as he leans forward, arms crossed. “You sent something to Urahara without showing us first?”

“He said he liked it, but to get it passed through you guys. Of course I agreed, so… Here we are.” Rukia’s not looking at him any further, instead sending a hard glance to Tatsuki. 

The drummer knows it’s not really directed at her - more like a woman’s communication-without-words kind of thing - but she finds herself gulping anyway.

--

Here we are indeed. 

Oh you got stars in your eyes, baby

If you think this will work

I won’t follow your galaxies

Won’t fall for that fucking smirk. 

When will you realize the stars were never yours?

Never at any time, never at any time.

The song has turned to pure obliteration by the end. Rukia’s voice intentionally fades out at the finish, but not without absolute raw emotion, pure fury that leaves goosebumps on Tatsuki’s skin. 

Rukia stands in the middle of the garage, hands on her hips, looking proud and dangerous and fiery as she stares straight back at Ichigo’s stone-faced glare. 

Good for her, Tatsuki thinks before remembering: wait. She shouldn’t be rooting for this. 

This is the beginning of a war. 

As if on cue, Ichigo clears his throat, raising his chin to match Rukia’s arrogance.

“Great work, Kuchiki. Way better than anything you’ve done so far, I’d say.” 

Rukia’s nostrils flare. “Is that a comment on my previous work?”

“Not at all. Just… Inspires me to step up my game. In fact…” Ichigo stands up, dusting off his pants. “Is it cool with you all if I cut out early? Think I have some writing to do too, alone.”

“Absolutely not, Ichigo.” Tatsuki is shaken out of watching the trainwreck that’s her life. “Chad, Orihime and I did not come here for you to cut out without even practicing - “

“No, I think it’s fine, Tatsuki.” Rukia’s eyes glint with a challenge. “We can practice… Without Ichigo.” 

An excruciating silence follows. Tatsuki can practically hear Ichigo’s teeth crack beneath his grinding.

“... I can wait to write.” He roughly grabs his guitar, quickly getting to work on tuning it. “Teamwork is important. We’re nakama, after all.”

Something about the pointed word visibly causes the keyboardist to flush, but she starts to unplug her phone from the speaker jack anyway.

The next hour of practice may just be the most painful hour in Tatsuki’s life.

--

She thought she might have an idea of what happened between Ichigo and Rukia from Rukia’s song Celestial Lies - okay, so Ichigo broke a promise? - but seeing what kind of songs follow after that practice from both of them leaves it all… A little muddled.

The next day, Ichigo sends the group chat audio of a break up song.

Eyes softly gazed 

Heart breaking stare

Who knew you’d crush me 

Lying is your best jewelry you wear. 

Everyone hits a wary thumbs up reaction except Rukia, who hours later only replies: Did Urahara approve of this one?

Yes. Ichigo sends back at a neck-breaking speed… 

Followed by a :).

A few days later, Rukia sends another audio. 

It only took you ten days to realize 

I wasn’t good enough, but no one’s ever good enough

No one’s ever nice enough, 

No one’s ever fucked you enough

Called your bluff enough

Said your name like a God enough.

Now Ichigo’s response is a weird song about a siren with lavender eyes feasting on a golden-haired sailor’s skull, and Tatsuki didn’t know what to think happened but frankly? She doesn’t care. 

She calls Urahara immediately. 

“You know what this is gonna do to us, right?!” She shouts into the phone. “This isn’t doing anything but hurting the band, letting them go at it like this!” 

Urahara - to his credit - listens patiently from the other end as she explodes. He has the decency to voice his sympathies, that it must be really tough working in a group with… So many opinions.

“These aren’t opinions. These. Are. Fatalities.” She grits out. 

“I understand, Tatsuki-san, but…” She can nearly hear their manager shrug. “This is… How good music is made. I hate what it’s doing to your nerves, but you have to understand that this is how I get you guys out there.”

“At the expense of our friendship? What kind of manager are you -”

“A good one.” His voice drops low, suddenly serious in a way she’s never heard before. “What would you have me do, Tatsuki-san? Tell everyone to stop writing mean songs? Have them hug it out? You know that does nothing for any of us.” 

“That’s not what I’m... “

“Tatsuki.” His voice lifts, a bit gentler. “This is what you all wanted, what you’re working hard for. Whether or not they get through this… Nobody can say. But that’s not gonna change whether or not they stop writing these stellar pieces. You know how good they are. So… I hate to tell you, but you’re gonna have to suck it up. Enjoy it while it lasts. It might make your career.”

She hangs up immediately, knowing he won’t be offended.

He knows that she knows he’s right. 

--

Almost like a God-sent gift for Tatsuki’s suffering, Orihime breaks it off with Ichigo after only a few weeks. 

The relationship ends - quite spectacularly - in disaster after a couple of dates… Just as Tatsuki thought it would, but hey. She’s not going to gloat about it, only promises whatever deity is responsible a huge offering the next time she happens upon a shrine. 

She hears all about it from Orihime, of course - she’s way too pissed at Ichigo to speak to him about anything besides business - who tells her they got a couple of drinks, dinner a few times. 

“It’s a very nice time! But he’s not… It’s…” She sighs forlornly and it makes Tatsuki hurt for her. 

“He hasn’t made any moves, huh.”

The stage manager shakes her head, suddenly grabbing her water to keep the tears misting her eyes at bay. 

Tatsuki wants to kill him. 

“He said I looked nice. He opens the doors for me, pulls out my chair, pays for my bill. He and I have… Fun, I think. At least I do - and he’s very kind, such a gentleman -”

“It’s okay, Orihime. You can say it: he fucking sucks.”

Orihime laughs a watery laugh. “No, nothing like that. I just… This Rukia thing. It’s so… Intense, right? In practice? I should’ve known. I feel so stupid.”

“... Orihime.” The drummer puts her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Nobody could’ve known. Had I known? You’d find me on a cruise ship, drumming for some dumb cover band.” 

“You make jokes like that, Tatsuki, but you’re the band’s lifeline.” Orihime shakes her head, blinking back tears. “I just… Rukia is so… Goodness, she’s lovely. And talented. And so, so kind - “

“Orihime - “

“And I’m not one to be jealous, I know I’ve only known Ichigo for about a month now so I’m really not too upset about that. But I’d - I’d love to be someone’s first choice like that. I’d love to be the person that someone wants to write songs about, that inspires someone so much. Because that anger that’s coming through their songs… That’s them caring, you know? That’s them caring so much that good or bad, they want the whole world to know, and yeah I don’t love the bad so much but I do love love and want to be cared about like that one day but I’m not as smart or talented as Rukia-chan so - “

Tatsuki interrupts her by firmly pressing her lips to Orihime’s, her hands snaking into her gorgeous auburn hair and suddenly: everything is perfect, angels are singing and if she died at this very moment she would be too blissed out to fight it. 

She briefly breaks it off, nudging Orihime’s forehead with her own. “Rukia is also my friend, but don’t get it twisted. They’re both absolute shits.” 

Orihime laughs, smiling softly at the drummer before she goes back in and Tatsuki thinks band drama?

Who gives a fuck. 

--

Her new girlfriend calls her the next day to say she’s told Ichigo, and Tatsuki sighs. She was about to enjoy her morning by smoking a joint, but. Priorities, she guesses. 

She arrives at Ichigo’s apartment door within the hour, banging until he opens it.

“Y’know, how you get beyond the buzzer at the building entrance is beyond me - “

Tatsuki wastes no time. “Orihime told you, yeah?” 

Ichigo rolls his eyes, but a rare, small smile betrays him. “Yeah, she told me. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. You mad?” 

“What? No. Of course I’m not mad.” 

“Cool. ‘Cuz what the ever-loving fuck, Ichigo.” 

“... Not sure what you mean.” Ichigo’s eyes turn to flint as understanding dawns on him, and he’s about to close the door when she stomps on his foot. 

“Tatsuki, what the hell--”

“Don’t ever try to do that to me again. What is this all about?” 

“God, we didn’t have a - Orihime and I are friends! It’s all been worked out! What do you care, you got your girl - ” He shuts his mouth at the giveaway as Tatsuki narrows her eyes. 

“Is that what this is about? You didn’t get your girl so you tried to get mine?”

“No, Tatsuki. I had no idea you liked her, I would’ve never had - and what do you mean ‘my girl’?!”

She ignores the question and chooses instead to ask in reply: “Have you talked to Rukia?”

A beat.

“... We’re not discussing this, Tatsuki.” 

“Like, really talked to her? ‘Cuz I know you, and a whole lot of this bullshit could’ve been avoided had you just - “

“I’m not discussing this with you Tatsuki.” He looks down at his phone, lighting up the screen to look at the time. “Look, there’s a few more hours until practice and I wanted to get in some writing - “

“Of course you do.”

“... Just do me a favor. Please? Don’t - don’t ask me to talk about that stuff. You’re my friend and you scare the shit out of me - but I’m drawing the line there. Unless it has something to do with the band - “

She’s getting pissed all over again. “Ichigo, you know it effects the band - “

“We’re professional.” He snaps, and the quick show of temper stuns Tatsuki. He’s never had the nerve to talk to her like that, ever.

She’d be impressed if it wasn’t for the circumstances.

“... Congrats again on you and Orihime. I’ll see you two at practice tonight.” 

He slams the door.

“... And you can kick my ass for doing that, later!” His muffled shout sounds from the other side of the door. 

Tatsuki leaves in a hell of a less good mood than when she came.

[gayenerd]

I have literally no source for this interview, but it’s one of my favorites because Billie seems to be really honest about his songwriting here - this is when Nimrod came out

The day I met Billie Joe Armstrong he flashed me his new tattoo, a Chuck-Jones-perfect cartoon character on his right bicep. Above it was some skull or Celtic armband or something, but below was the name "Joseph," exquisitely lettered, for his firstborn child. It's that image of him that I always keep in my head, and what I think of when I hear his band, Green Day: loopy humor and face-punch riffs and sincere sentiment I tight formation, worn as close to the skin as possible, covered in sweat. From the band's first records on the local Berkeley label Lookout, 39/Smooth and Kerplunk!, through the multi-million selling Warner Brothers releases Dookie, Insomniac, and now Nimrod, Armstrong has written dozens of perfect little punk-rock ditties that are probably the most sincere and playful acts of musical aggression since that first punk wave twenty years ago. 

But the songs are more than throwbacks. Armstrong writes from a very personal perspective, the perspective of someone born in the Me Decade, raised in the Me-vs.-You Decade, and trying to cope in the Yet-to-be-Stereotyped Decade. His songs are about the current crises of being alive right now, in a society that's used up and marketed all of its counter-cultures, and has little use for its youth except as consumers. The songs are also about how one reconciles anger and rebellion with love and desire to not be so down all the time. It's less political and more personal than its punk rock predecessors, an angry/crying/shouting/fucking definition of self.

 It made me wonder how you can take bile directed at you and turn it into a song that gets sold at the local Sam Goody. I figured I'd ask, so I called him up at his home in Berkeley. 

Q: Where do you start when writing a song? 

A: Most of the time I'll come up with a melody, and I'll do lyrics, but I'll tackle them at different times and not connect the two, you know? So I'll come up with the riffs, and the melody of the song, like a short ditty. I'll put some lyrics to it and bring it to band practice and then we'll just start to pound it out. And then, as things need to be restructured, sometimes Mike [Dirnt, bassist] will have an idea for something, or Tré [Cool, drummer] will have an idea for something, or sometimes we'll just leave it alone and it's sort of already done. 

Q: Have there been any particular songs that have stayed the same from the original inspiration to recording, or have they all gone through changes in the process? 

A: There's a lot of them that stay the same. "Redundant" really never changed, except we made it a little longer by adding another chorus at the end. And there's this song called "All The Time" that's pretty much exactly the way I had it.

 Q: So how much does a song change then, in producing the record? On Nimrod there are a lot of different arrangements: strings on "Good Riddance," horns on "King For A Day." Did you have the ragtime horns in mind when you were writing? 

A: No, not at all. I actually demo'd that song and played all the instruments myself and showed it to the band and they're like, "oh, that's pretty cool." We fucked around with it and practiced it a couple of times, but we never expected it to go onto the record. Then when we got to the studio, we said whatever, we'll just put it on there. It ended up being pretty good, but the song was just screaming for horns. We got Gabe [McNair] and Steve [Bradley] and it was so funny. They said, "what do you want us to play?" And I said, 'I'm sure you'll think of something.' And they looked at me like, "aw man!" So they basically wrote all the horn parts to that song. 

Q: What's more important, lyrics or the music? 

A: I think lyrics are really important, because there are songs that, musically, I don't think are the greatest in the world but lyrically are amazing. I mean, Johnny Rotten never had the greatest voice in the world but he wrote really good lyrics for the first Sex Pistols record, and that goes for a lot of people. But the thing is, a lot of people tend to -- especially in pop songs -- they tend to take the music and put something sappy to it, and it's just a one-dimensional emotion that the rest of the songs has to carry. I was actually thinking about that yesterday. I went to a friend's house, and they were joking around, putting on the Spice Girls records. And it was blatantly catchy, super catchy, but at the same time it really didn't say anything. You could only hold it at face value, there was no depth behind it, you really couldn't tell anything about the people singing it. But I guess there's a need for that. People want to hear songs that don't say anything, they want to go out to a dance club and shake their booty.

 Q: That's a good question, then: what makes a good song? Depth, a point of view...? 

A: I guess so. I don't know. I know what I like, personally. Like, yesterday I did my top ten favorite songs or something like that. 

Q: What's on there? 

A: Let's see. "Surrender" by Cheap Trick. "In My Life" by the Beatles. A song called "They'll Never Call It Quits" by a band called One Man Army. Generation X, "Kiss Me Deadly." "Outsider" by the Ramones. Hüsker Dü, "Makes No Sense At All." 

Q: How do you deal with writer's block?

 A: I write something else, just for fun. I'm just habitual about it. If I can't come up with the song...the great song that you want to write that will leave your mark forever or something cheesy like that, I'll write a polka number if I can't come up with something. 

Q: Do you put that kind of pressure on yourself? Do you say "this one's gonna be a statement?" 

A: Sometimes I do. Sometimes I'll think way. I just have a really strong work ethic. I have that sort of way about all my songs that, lyrically, every single one of them has to have some subliminal thing going for it. But most people don't really get what you're talking about until 10 years after the fact anyway. That seems to be how people respect songwriters through time. 

Q: Do you have a time of day or a place where you write? You say you have a work ethic, how does that manifest itself? 

A: Anytime, every time. The other night I was dead tired. All I wanted to do was fall asleep, and me and [my wife] Adrienne get in bed, and we're laying there. I was just dozing off a little bit, and all of the sudden this music was popping in my head, going over and over. And I was like, aw man, I have to go downstairs to put this on my guitar and just write it down. But I don't want to. I was so tired. So finally I got up and I go, 'goddammit! I have to get this done.' Otherwise I would forget it.

 Q: When you're writing, do you write with an album in mind or song by song? 

A: Song by song. I can't really conceptualize that far in advance. We knew we wanted to change and bring in new elements on the new record. But we really didn't know how to do it. So I wrote, constantly, all kinds of songs. Fifty or something. And you try to find some sort of natural progression within those songs, and try to capture that on the record. 

Q: So are the songs you write linked by your state of mind, or thematically? 

A: Sometimes if I'll get into a depression, writer's block, where I can't write, I get really bummed out and then I'm not working at all, I'm not doing anything. And then I'll deliberately get myself down to the lowest of the low that I could possibly get down to. And then a song will pop up. And I'll be happy, I'll get ecstatic for like the next month and then all of the sudden another one will pop up. 

Q: So you revel in the dark zone and it's useful. 

A: Yeah...sort of...I kind of...well...definitely. 

Q: But you don't necessarily choose to be there... 

A: Sometimes I'll cause problems just so I can get in touch with that emotional side or whatever, you know. Just to see if something will spark up, start a fight or something (laughs). 

Q: Can you name a song that has come out of something like that? 

A: Umm...a song called "Worry Rock." 

Q: Seems like a really personal song. 

A: Yeah. I think I got drunk and put my fist through a window. Adrienne called me an asshole or something like that and, I don't know. We just got into some meaningless fight like most couples get into, those fights that don't make any sense. A fight for the sake of fighting, which can be destructive to your relationship. That's how that song came about. 

Q: Are you okay with that kind of exposure that comes from investing your personal life and emotions in a song like that? Is your family okay with that? 

A: Yeah, I think so. I guess the only problem would be if, say, Adrienne doesn't have an outlet for herself. That's the kind of thing that I worry about. The things that she could say about me could be pretty horrifying. 

Q: In what way are you a different songwriter now than you were on 39/Smooth and Kerplunk? 

A: It goes in a way of, you know, what kind of person were you at sixteen, and what kind of person are you at twenty? It's almost like two different people in some aspects. I think that most of my stuff is based on infatuations with women. Some are just straight obsession. I mean, nowadays you could call me a stalker (laughs). The quest for that ultimate happiness with another person, which I think started to change, and it changed pretty dramatically with Kerplunk, because I started to talk about other things, like loss of innocence, going out on your own, moving out at the age of seventeen, being a high school dropout, living in west Oakland in a warehouse with fifteen people. Where the first record was more...mushy...the next one you could tell I was going through some pretty dramatic changes. 

Q: So Dookie comes out, and where are you there? 

A: I think I turned more bitter. I started to realize where my true friendships were, the politics of Berkeley were setting in, drug abuse was starting to fuck with me a little bit. I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me, but I couldn't really do it and that had a lot to do with drugs. I started to get a lot more bitter. Life wasn't how it was supposed to be when you're on your own. There's a couple of different songs on there...I mean, the psychoses that went into that record! Songs like "Basket Case" and "Coming Clean" were blatantly neurotic songs. 

Q: That's messed up: amazing success, and it's your bitterness you're being celebrated for. 

A: I don't know. It's funny because I feel that once you write a song, and then record it, and then release it, it doesn't necessarily belong to you anymore. I mean, you can hold that piece of work closer to you than anybody else can, and that was one of the big problems for a while. I felt so misunderstood all the time. Which goes with the territory, anyway, of writing songs. Because nobody really understands what the hell you're talking about. Other people have interpretations of whatever, figure out their own plot, make it fit to the soundtrack of their own lives. It messed with me a little bit, 'cause people didn't know where I came from, people didn't know where I came from, people didn't really know what I stood for. People calling us a throwback to 1977, I guess I got affected by that. Because punk rock is a lifestyle for me, and has nothing to do with 1977 or any particular band, but the relationship that you had with and the amount of work that you put into your local scene. And it gets completely misinterpreted as trying to make a buck. 

Q: It wasn't a fashion statement, it was a lifestyle. 

A: Yeah, a lot of people took it as a fashion statement, even to the point where I think a lot of people thought we were the '90s equivalent of Sha Na Na or something. Some of that's kind of funny, whatever. But now I sort of don't care. No one's gonna understand it anyway. The whole success or fame thing was so new to me at the time, it came so abruptly, and I was like, wow, this is too much. I didn't know all this baggage was connected to all this shit. I thought I'd just have the opportunity to play my songs for people. 

Q: Is that why the new album is as different as it is, because you're just doing what you want to do, you don't have to be what people thought you were, or even what you thought you were? 

A: I think so. That might have something to do with it. I think when you stop caring and worrying about what people think, even stop caring what you think of yourself to a certain extent, and just sort of do it, it's a release to push your past behind you. I think that's when the best stuff comes out. And, of course, when you're forging ahead really hard. I think this time our songs are much more than just things that you can listen to, but actually visualize at the same time. It's like this guy told me the other day, this friend of mine, he goes, you know I was listening to that song "Platypus," and I can totally imagine this big western stampede of horses and cows. And that, for me, is exactly what I was thinking. Not that I was thinking of a stampede, you know, but that kind of quality. 

Q: So you communicated an image and a feeling. 

A: Exactly. 

Q: Of any of your songs, do you have a favorite? 

A: Lately, I like "Walking Alone" and "Uptight" I've been into. My mind changes all the time.

 Q: Let's talk about one of those. What are the circumstances around a song like "Walking Alone?" 

A: I play in this side project band called Pinhead Gunpowder. This guy Aaron Elliot writes all the lyrics and a lot of the music. And he wrote this song called "I Walk Alone," which is about walking at night, the streets, being a street punk. And so I wrote...I don't know what you'd call it -- an alter ego song? -- called "Walking Alone." 

Q: An answer song? 

A: Yeah, cause we always work in that sort of way. I wrote a song called "She," so he wrote an article in his fanzine called "She." It's kind of funny, it's really good to bounce things off of each other. So "Walking Alone" and "I Walk Alone" were sort of the same thing. I think Tom Petty could play that song. It's got that harmonica and the big smashing snare sound on it. But it was the first time I ever played harmonica. I can't play harmonica at all. I had to teach myself how to play that. 

Q: Hey, you did great. 

A: Oh, thanks. We actually tried to get a studio musician to play it, but I think he was a little too hobo for us. 

Q: Smelled bad? 

A: Actually, he had almost too much soul for it. He was too good at what he did. And I wanted it to come across more loosely. Not as good, I guess. So I played it. 

Q: It's not a confident song, or a song about confidence. "Sometimes I need to apologize/sometimes I need to admit that I ain't right." 

A: It's sort of like sticking your foot in your mouth sometimes, and thinking out loud, but the lyric changes. It turns into talking about friends and how they change and your friends either become lawyers or the local town drunks. 

Q: Any advice for people writing who want to be hit songwriters? 

A: Oh God, I don't know. Don't take advice from anybody.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

The Pretty Reckless’ Taylor Momsen Lives for ‘Death by Rock and Roll’

“The 27 Club” is a depressing cultural phenomenon — it’s the age musical luminaries Amy Winehouse, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Mia Zapata of the Gits, Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix died.

The Pretty Reckless singer Taylor Momsen is now is 27 but was 25 when she wrote a reckoning in the semi-autobiographical “25.” The song appears on Death By Rock and Roll, the band’s fourth record. The LP is a stunner; a dozen stellar songs that are at once reverential, referential and intensely personal.

In the past four years, Momsen lost two hugely important people in her life. In 2017, Chris Cornell died by suicide, and not long after, her musical mentor and best friend Kato Khandwala died in a motorcycle crash. Understandably, Momsen was devastated. Thanks in no small part to the catharsis of music, the age of 27 seems to be a renewal, as she exorcises her pain in Death By Rock and Roll. The Pretty Reckless’ best album to date, the passion and pain are palpable in both music and lyrics. The plaintive “Got So High” could be an alt-rock chart-topper, in wonderful contrast to the raw rallying cry and aggressive gutter-rock feel of the title track. She moves easily from the quirky cinematic moment of “Broomsticks” into the fiery, feminist coven-call that is “Witches Burn.”

Speaking from her pandemic hideout in Maine, Momsen isn’t on the other side of the grieving process.

“I’d be a liar to say that I’m, you know, over things,” she tells SPIN. “I’m still in the process of healing, but the making of this record really was just a huge step forward. I was in a very, very dark space there for a while, and if it wasn’t for the making of this record, I don’t know if I would be here right now.”

She wallowed, but ultimately her instinct for self-preservation kicked in. As did a worldwide pandemic. Masking up is nothing new for Momsen, who calls herself “a super hypochondriac” who hasn’t left her house since March.

“Even before COVID, I was strict. It probably stems from being a singer and not wanting to get sick on tour, because you never fully recover. So [I always flew wearing] masks,” Momsen says.

Though she’s healthy, and it’s probably not an exaggeration to say that, emotionally, Momsen was saved by rock and roll. “I keep just sticking to the word rebirth,” she says. “I know it sounds cliché, but it really does feel like that for the band.”

While the songs are truthful, sometimes sad, always powerful, they’re never a pity party. “I keep trying to want to put a positive spin on it because I don’t want it to be this representation of this very morbid thing,” Momsen says. The concept behind Death By Rock & Roll is a positive rallying crying, something a band might shout together before going on stage. “It’s an ethic that we live our life by; go out your own way, rock and roll till I die,” she continues. “Don’t let anyone tell me differently.”

The phrase “death by rock and roll” was coined as the band’s de facto motto by Khandwala, which made it an appropriate choice for the album title. The band’s friend, producer and touchstone, Khandwala died in 2018 at the age of 47. He was with The Pretty Reckless from 2010’s Light Me Up to 2014’s Going To Hell and 2016’s Who You Selling For.

Khandwala’s memory bookends the album: A recording of his actual footsteps on a wooden floor begins the record, and the final song is the poignant tribute “Harley Darling,” a stellar ballad that could be a hit on Americana/country radio. If the only way around something is through it, Momsen dove in headfirst, putting all her angst, love, sadness and power into the songs.

“The record delves into a lot of darkness and a lot of sadness. There was no way around that as a writer. And as a person. It just became so a part of who I was that I couldn’t avoid it. But I think by writing it and getting it out, that was a huge part of the healing process.”

Wanting to use music to process and express her emotions, she called Khandwala, who had produced every The Pretty Reckless album, to talk about recording.

But then came the call that Khandwala had died.

“That was the nail in the coffin for me. I threw my hands up in the air and kind of went ‘Yeah, I give up.’ I went down a very dark rabbit hole of depression and substance abuse and everything that comes with that.” she confesses. Momsen was so down that she couldn’t even listen to music. Eventually, listening to her favorite artists helped her. “I started with the Beatles, listening to every detail, the whole Anthology, and just going through what made me fall in love with music when I was young.”

The band – drummer Jamie Perkins, guitarist Ben Phillips and bassist Mark Damon – met Momsen through Khandwala and were all equally devastated, processing losses in their own ways. They were on tour with Soundgarden in 2017, which was a thrill but ended in tragedy when Cornell died.

“As an artist [being asked to open the tour] was the highest compliment that you could possibly get,” she says. “If you know anything about me, I mean Soundgarden is just the epitome [when it comes to rock bands]. I was there that last night in Detroit,” she remembers. “I talked to him at night I gave him a hug and said goodbye. When I wake up to that news the next morning … It just went from the most elating experience to the one of the most devastating. And Kato was at all those shows.”

Cornell’s death shook Momsen and the band profoundly. She says it “took me down to a place where I wasn’t useful in the middle of a record cycle.” The Pretty Reckless were supposed to be on the road for another year, but Momsen wasn’t up to performing as she dealt with her grief. “I couldn’t grieve and continue to get on stage every night and pretend, put on this big rock show like everything was okay. I left the tour,” she says.

With time, she was able to listen to Soundgarden’s music, and eventually, she picked up a guitar. Death by Rock & Roll was a record that was easy in the worst way possible.

“I didn’t have to try to write it. It was more just a necessity that I didn’t even know I needed. It just kind of poured out of me,” Momsen says of the writing process. “There were a lot of tears during the recording. We put everything we had into this album, physically, emotionally. There are good days, bad days, obviously. I think the full spectrum of emotions was spanned on making this, from anger to tears of happiness to tears of sadness.” Some days were too difficult for Momsen even to attempt vocals, too heartbroken from the past few years.

That said, Momsen, in conversation, along with the record itself, aren’t outwardly mournful. Her voice has laughter and life. “I’m ecstatic for people to hear the album and to share it because I’m really proud of it. I know it sounds cliche, but it really does feel like the first album, like we had to start from scratch again, and we didn’t know how that was going to go.”

Still, there are songs where Momsen chooses not to divulge the true inspiration to inquisitive journalists. “I think it’s unfair to the listener to detail song lyrics in a personal manner. It takes away what it means to [the listener].” She offers up an example to clarify: “I’m a huge Pink Floyd fan. (She references “The Great Gig in the Sky” in the song “Rock and Roll Heaven.”) I’ve watched every documentary ever made about Pink Floyd. In one, Roger Waters is talking about ‘Shine on You Crazy Diamond,’ going into depth about what the song was about to him, about Syd Barrett.”

Momsen was shocked to learn the song’s true story. “It was so not how I had taken that song my entire life! I’m glad that I know the story now. But if I had known before I listened to it, I think that it would have changed my perspective of the song. It wouldn’t have had the same impact that it had on me and my personal life. That’s why I don’t like to do that.”

Death by Rock and Roll reaffirms The Pretty Reckless’ love of rock and roll, along with the people who made them who they are, musically and as individuals. “I think because we went through so much trauma, and so much loss, that this record, in one way, feels so much like a gift. We’re given the gift of rebirth; I mean, how many artists can say that? As artists, you struggle to find inspiration always. In this case, inspiration was just thrust upon me.”

With a record that marks such a powerful turning point for The Pretty Reckless, talking about Khandwala and Cornell will be inevitable and ongoing. “This record starts and ends with my love letter to Kato. So there’s no getting around talking about that,” Momsen concedes. “But it’s so much more than that. I think it’s reflecting on the cycle of life. You come into this world with nothing but your soul, and you leave it with nothing but your soul.”

[smolbeanieee]

Once Upon a Time | Five

strangers to lovers au

pairing: Younghyun x fem!reader  

genre: fluff, angst

masterlist

Ever since Younghyun spent more time at the snack bars, the boys are getting along so well with him—making Dahee in disbelief. Not just than that, Younghyun also has captured Grandma's hearts as she will constantly asked where is Younghyun if he didn't show up at the snack bar.

As for Dahee, she slowly open up and getting more comfortable with Younghyun's presence. Some day she would grow curious if he would come to her workplace and gets a little bit disappointed if he didn't show up. But, her hearts skip a little bit and felt butterflies in her stomach whenever he drop by—along with her favourite coffee in his hands.

For these past weeks, Younghyun always walks Dahee to home when she finished her work. At first, it feels a little bit awkward but soon they get along well together as time passes.

In the mean time, Younghyun falls deeper into Dahee every day. She brought light into his life—she shows how warms loves and affection is, how meaningful life could be as Dahee always put other's happiness first instead of herself. She always taking care of grandma in loving way, showering the three boys will full of adorations and playfulness. Younghyun founds that Dahee always smiling whenever she at the snack bar—spending her time with people she loves even though some days would be hectic with customers and loads of assignments need to be done.

Tonight is no exceptions.

Younghyun walks by her side slowly as they make way to Dahee's home after her shift ended. Cold and windy breeze makes them shudders in cold even thick jackets had them covered.

“You want some hot coffee? It would keeps us warm” Younghyun ask as they passed by a convenient store at the Han river.

“Yeah, it would be nice” Dahee replied as she clasping her hands together, warming herself.

“Okay, go and wait me there” He said as he gestured Dahee to sit on the bench near the park as Younghyun makes his way into the store.

Few minutes later, Younghyun came over to Dahee with two cups of coffee in his hands as he hands over a cup to her, taking a sit next to Dahee. “Here, your coffee, as usual”

Dahee mutters a small thanks to as she slowly takes a sip of the hot mocha.

Both of them sat in peace as they feasting their eyes with the calm view of Han river at night.

“I like to come here whenever I need some time alone to clear my mind” Dahee said, breaking out the silence between them.

“Why?” Younghyun curiously asked, turning his head to her, giving her full attention.

“Compare to the day, night view at Han river is really pretty. It gives me calm and peace watching those people enjoying their time with their favorite people, walking their dog or even playing basketball. I love seeing people enjoying their live to the fullest.” Dahee chirpily said with small smile plastered on her face, lighting up her expression as chuckles left her lips.

“What about you? Are you enjoying your life right now?” Younghyun genuinely asked her as he watch her eyebrow slightly furrowed together—thinking hard to answer the question.

“I guess I do enjoy my life right now. What can i asked for more? I got grandma, Taeyong, Taeil, Jungwoo, Mark” Dahee said as she takes a sip of her coffee, ignoring Younghyun who been staring at her for the whole time.

“Can I tell you something?” Younghyun asked, gaining Dahee's attention as she turn her head to him.

“Sure.”

Younghyun took a deep breathe before deciding to speak up. “I think I falling for you. I like you” he spat his words out, making Dahee speechless in a moment, leaving her lips agape.

“Younghyun, I'm--”

He cut her off, feeling this is too early for their friendship “Don't worry, I'm just telling how I felt about you. You don't have to say anything.”

Dahee could felt her lips quiver in shock, still processing his words in her minds as she brushing off her bangs from her forehead.

“I'm such mess. How can you like me in this state?” Dahee replied, taking courage to face him with tears brimming from corner of her eyes.

“I'm a mess too. I don't what is love is until you show it to me with full of affections. I just loves how you cares for other but the truth is your happiness comes first. You always taking care others. I never thought you would gives me big impact on how warm to be loved is.  I swear, my feelings towards you is sincere.  I really like you. ” Younghyun said as he softly tooks Dahee's hands into his, thumbs softly rubbing over her knuckles.

Dahee's flutters for a moments, looking down at their intertwined hands together before she snaps back into reality, slowly pulls her hands out of his grips.

Dahee stood up from her seat, pacing back and forth in front of Younghyun before she spoke up “You don't understand Younghyun. I'm not the right person to gives you love. Deep inside me, there is no love” Dahee said, staring right into Younghyun.

“Then make me understand. Or do you already has someone else? Is it Taey-” he cautiously asked, looking up at Dahee who standing in front of him.

“Isn't about Taeyong. He just a good friend to me, okay?” Dahee sat back on the bench, gulping down the cold coffee.

“Then what?”

Dahee lets out a deep sighs, minds thinks hard on how to explain to Younghyun. “To me, love is just absurd. It doesn't feels real, it just a feeling that eventually fades away. That's what loves did to my family” Dahee said as she looks into Younghyun sorrowfully as he just attentively listen to her without interrupting.

“Back then, there is a time where my dad always told my mum that he loves my mum but he is the one cheated. He got affair and even got courage to bring the women into my my mum shared bedroom. One day when his little dirty secret leak out, my parent is fighting—very bad. My mum leaves the house during rainy night and I couldn't leave her alone so I followed her along. My mum drove so fast that it scares me so much. Then, the car went into crash. I survived but was in coma for 3 weeks. Unfortunately, my mum died from the accident, too much bleeding in her head. I didn't get to see my mum for the last time as I'm just awake from the coma—only the doctor and nurse came to infrom me.” Dahee explain, trying to control herself from crying in front of Younghyun as he slung over his arms on her shoulder, squeezing in assurance before Dahee continue her words.

“The only person I could hope on to, my younger brother, disappear. I couldn't find him anywhere, he just..gone. Stupid of me thinking I could rely on him after our dad neglected us for other woman but he weren't there to comfort me. I'm the only person had to face the dirty remarks from the reporters and journalists as my dad is one of the successful businessman.”

“Have you tried to find your brother?” Younghyun carefully asked.

“I did tried to find him but after a year, I just gave up. I gave my past life and get out from the house until I found grandma and the other three boys as I working part time before continue my studies. They gladly taking me as the part of their family. But then before I met you, Taeyong said he found my brother”

“Really? That's must be nice to meet him again. Where is he now?”

“At your shared apartment with others band members” Dahee said, flat smile plastered on her face

“Who?” Younghyun still can't connect the dots.

“Yoon Dowoon”

Gasps left Younghyun's mouth as he felt goosebumps all over his body, hands covering his mouth in disbelief. Dahee let out chuckles upon seeing his reaction—already expecting the reaction from him.

“That’s right. Yoon Dowoon, your band drummer is my little brother”

“Wow this is unbelievable”

“I know right?” Dahee asked,sniffling her nose in cold as she continue “I’m sorry you had to heard my story like this.  I’m really sorry” Dahee confess, facing down to her lap, avoiding making eye contact with Younghyun—trying to keep her calm composure.

Younghyun felt bad towards her that his confessing making Dahee revealing her past story—he sneaked his arm around Dahee’s shoulder, pulling her closer as he soothe her down “It’s okay.  I understand how you feels right now.  Take your time.  I won’t ask about Dowoon or tell him about you to him.” Younghyun explained as if he could read Dahee’s mind—making Dahee let out a relived sighs which go unnoticed by Younghyun.

————

“Just where is this kid? It’s already 1 a.m.” Taeyong mutters to himself as he take a glance over the clock at the wall, legs shaking anxiously but soon sprang up when he heard the front door being unlocked

“Ah you scared me!” Dahee exclaimed in surprise when she saw Taeyong in her house, letting out a relief sighs as she taking off her shoes and make way to the living room—putting down the keys on its place in the process. “What are you doing at my house at this time?” Dahee asked, sitting comfortably on the couch, leaning her head to the back as she groans in satisfaction.

“What about you? Where have you been at this hour? I have called you multiple time.  Why didn’t you pick up?” Taeyong bombard her with tons of questions which makes Dahee chuckles in response “What are you laughing at? I’m worried at you.  I called Taeil, he said you already left Grandma’s place”

Dahee looked up at Taeyong who is standing in front of her—demanding answer from her and Dahee just  flashed him a wide smile plastered on her face—hoping his anger to subside “I’m really sorry. My phone’s battery died and I kind caught up in long conversation with Younghyun”

“What’s so important than going home?” Taeyong asked—feeling suspicious towards Younghyun.

“Nothing much.  He confessed he like me and I’m telling him about my past” Dahee calmly explained to him with nonchalantly expression plastered on her face but not to Taeyong.

“Whoa whoa wait.  One by one.  He confess to you?”  Taeyong eagerly asked and Dahee nods “Then what happened? Did you accept him?”

“I-I didn’t.  I just told him I’m not suitable for him and proceeds telling him about my past.  That’s all.”

“Hey, he’s one of kind.  Out of many man out there, he’s the only one who had courage to confess to you.  It’s amazing.  He has my respect!”  Taeyong jokingly said to Dahee—showing two thumbs up as a support which earns playful punch on the stomach by her.

“Respect? That’s nonsense” Dahee said, pursing her lips together as she sighs.  “But I’m worried if he may spill about me to Dowoon.  I’m not ready for any of that.  7 years is too long for me.  I felt like shit during those times” Dahee pours her heart to Taeyong who been looking at her with big does eyes of his.

“He may shocked at first knowing Dowoon is your younger brother but I believe Younghyun going to keep his promise.  Trust me.”  Taeyong assured her as he pats Dahee’s head softly.

“Okay.  I has to believe him.”

————

Few days passed.  Younghyun thought it would be awkward after his confession but turns out everything is normal—Dahee been treating him as usual, walking her back to home and sitting as her partner at class as usual.

Younghyun patiently waits for his name to be called by the barista at cafe when he heard the waitress called out a familiar name to his ears.  A familiar silhouette who went up to the counter grabs Younghyun’s attention and soon they meet eyes when the man making his way out from the cafe.

“Oh you.  I knew you.  Dahee’s partner in class right?” The tall and sharp features man asked as Younghyun trying to remember hard.

His sudden question makes Younghyun sprang from his seat “Ah yes, you’re right.  I’m Dahee’s partner and you’re..?” Younghyun asked as he eyeing the man in front of him with well-clothed, looking like a rich businessman to Younghyun.

“Taeyong.  Lee Taeyong.  Dahee’s childhood friend”  Taeyong introduce himself and offered handshake with him which Younghyun gladly accept it “

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you in person.  I only heard your name mentioned by Dahee couple of times only”

“That’s okay.  Dahee is quite secretive about her circle anyway.  I heard a lot about you from her.”

“Ah really?” Younghyun curiously asked.

Taeyong nods in agreement as he take a look at his watches, late for his meeting with Mr Yoon, Dahee’s dad “I’m would like to have coffee with you some day.  But, I want to say that Dahee really trust you.  Surely it will take times but just don’t break her heart.”  Taeyong taps Younghyun’s shoulder as in trusting him with Dahee together—before Younghyun could say anything, Taeyong walked out from the cafe, leaving Younghyun alone with his thoughts.

————

“Dowoon-ah! Can you do me a favour? Can you go to my room and look up for the blue file with label of administrative?  It’s on the table.  I had to submit it by today and I forgot to bring it.   Please?  I don’t think I could make it if I go home now.” Younghyun pleads over the phone, mentally slapping himself for forgetting to bring the work that need to be submit during the class.  Luckily he check his bag before went out from the cafe. 

“Okay fine but you owe me a dinner!” Dowoon replied as he slowly make his way to his hyung’s room frustratedly.

“Anything for our maknae.  I’ll wait at the cafe near our home.  I’ll text you the address!” With that Yonghyun hung up the call.

“Ah that hyung” Dowoon complaining to himself with his mouth chanting for blue file on the table as his hands move faster going through the messy table “I got you~!” Dowoon excitedly exclaimed when he spot the blue file under the stacked thick papers and other files.  He tries to take out the blue file carefully but then the stacked falls downs along with other papers and files.  Dowoon mentally cursed himself for being careless.

He bent down to collect those papers and file but then stopped when he saw a file label with Younghyun and other name that feels familiar on his tip of tongue—a file that contain Younghyun’s field trip works and report paper.

“Yoon Dahee?” Dowoon keep on repeating the name, feeling unbelievable “Ey there is no way this person is noona.” Dowoon keep on denying until he open up the file, looking through the report paper and his heart beat faster when saw Younghyun’s profile information and her profile along with the picture on the next page.

“Noona.  T-that’s right, it’s you. Dahee noona..” Dowoon gasped, covering his mouth in disbelief as his mind trying to process what just he found out. 

previous | next

[mickmarstookmyheart]

Long time no see

Mick Mars X Reader

Summary: You are working at the famous Whisky a Go Go as a bartender. A new band called Mötley Crüe has full shows every night and whenever you see the lead guitarist you can't get out of your head since he seems pretty familiar you just don't know from where.

When you woke up in the afternoon you thought it will be a usual day. You took on your working top, jeans and boots and headed to the bus station. On the bus you were listening to music and were looking out of the window watching all the people going home from work. Your daily routine was quite different cause you worked in a night club. Not that you didn't like it there. Music all night, every night.

You stopped at the entrance of the place and looked up to see which band will perform tonight. Mötley Crüe. Again? Well they play pretty well it's not about that. During every concert you couldn't concentrate on the work, but on the members. That guitarist dude, Mars or whatever he calls himself looked so familiar but you didn't know from where.

A massive amount of rockers flooded through the entrance when the gates were opened. They immediately attacked the bar and was in long queues waiting for you.

"Hey, Jon! You can go and have your break if you want. The concert can start at any moment now, I will handle it." You told your coworker who just nodded smiling and left you there.

The concert was wilder then ever, when you went out to smoke a cigarette you could see the queue which ended so far away you couldn't even see it. The band killed it today, better then ever.

You were cleaning the bar and the cups when someone sat in front of the bar. You turned around to see who it was. That freaking guitarist. He had his sunglasses on and was looking at his hands.

"Hello. What can I get you? Beer or something stronger?" You asked narrowing your eyes.

"Vodka please." You poured a cup and when he looked up to thank you he put his aviators on his nose to see you properly. "(Y/N)?"

"Seven hells! Robert is that you?!" Your eyes widened from the recognition and your mouth dropped. "I haven't see you in ages! What happened to you?"

"It's Mick, now actually. Well, a lot of things." He smiled from ear-to-ear. He was so glad to see you after all this time. You were best friends in high school, although Mick didn't really attend the classes since he was already into music in that time.

"Damn, I didn't even recognized you with this hair." You were laughing and your eyes were focused in him. He has changed a lot since you last met, he has his head dyed and was wearing leather clothes.

"Well, you didn't change a thing." Mick eyed you from head-to-toe and was smirking. "Though you might got taller."

"(Y/N), how many times do I have to tell you that you work here?" Your asshole boss yelled, you turned to him and gave him a fake smile. You started to clean the glasses again but stopped when he got out of sight.

"Well, that was my boss. He is a cool man, as you can see." You hummed and poured another drink for Mick and one for yourself. "Do you want to talk after my shift? It would be good to talk. Or is it a horrible idea? You know what, forget what I have just said. I'm sure you have many more important things to do and people to meet."

"No, no, no. It's a good idea and I would love to but..." Mick looked away searching for the others.

"Looking for your girlfriend?" You asked him hoping you weren't right.

"Nah. Just waiting for these idiots to do some shit. They can be pain in the ass sometime, you know. So (Y/N) if it's not a problem can we talk later? It was really good to see you but I gotta go. See you later." And with that he left you there. He didn't even ask for your number so it was obvious you won't meet again. Not that you were surprised. You just disappointed in him in many ways.

Damn, Mick Mars, what have you done? Did you just froze? Afraid from a girl who knew you more than yourself? Similar thoughts crossed Mick's mind who couldn't do anything with the situation. The only thing he knew that he wanted to meet again.

At that night you cried yourself to sleep. It was a long ago since you cried but Mick ditching you like this hurt like hell. Again. You forgave him after he just left couple of years ago during high school, now he did it again. Maybe the problem was with you. The next day you hardly talked to Jon and to your co-workers just only when needed to. There were no Mötley concert tonight so it was impossible to meet with Mick. When you finished your shift you walked instead of taking the bus. The night was quite chilly so you adjusted your pretty light jacket.

"Hey, baby! Where is the rush?" A guy called after you. You didn't pay attention to him cause you knew that's what these kind of people need so you kept walking on the street. Another guy approached you from the other side. You were trapped. Nice.

"What does a lovely girl do on the street this late in the night? You should be sleeping now, nah?"

"Leave me alone!" You spit.

"Look how wild she is." The guy said laughing to his mate. They were now only steps away. You wanted to shout from the top of lungs for help but you just couldn't. "Hmm you smell good." He sniffed and his face was inches away. You tried to remember every detail about him to know who to arrest. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him away and started to run. Luckily you were wearing your comfortable boots so you could run as fast as you can. Sadly, not fast enough. Those jerks were closer and closer. When you were about to stop and gave up, you heard engines of motorbikes. You continuined running and maybe stop them to help you.

"Not that fast, baby!" Just a few meters from the riders.

"Hey, hey! Please stop!" You shouted but one of your harassers got you and put his hand ony your mouth to shut you up. You tried to move his hand away but his grip was strong. "Okay, your little game ends now." He whispered angrily.

"Let her go, man!" A voice echoed but the man didn't move an inch. "I said let her go, dumbass!" Another man said.

"What did you just say?" He was furious as hell now. You took advantage of it and kicked him in the balls. You ran to the bikers who seemed familiar. The boys from the band. And Mick was standing there beside his bike, gazing you. Suddenly all the anger you felt for Mick disappeared. You ran into his arms crying and clenching on him. He rubbed your back until the drummer and the bassist chased away those jerks. The blondie singer put his jacket when he saw you shaking like a leaf.

"Th..thank you." You sniffed.

"Are you okay (Y/N)?" Mick asked looking down at you. "Do you need to go to the hospital or something?" Mick worried sick seeing you like this.

"You know her, Mick?" The singer looked shocked as well as the others.

"Yes. We...we were friends in high school. Now come (Y/N), we are bringing you home." You couldn't say a word so you just nodded and got on the bike behind Mick. You hold Mick for your dear life during the way. When you arrived home safely you thanked again and was about to enter the house.

"Umm, do you want to come in? I think I should..I should thank that you all saved me." The singer was grinning. "Not in that way, man! I have some beer in the fridge." They hesitated at first but couldn't say no to free beers.

You lived in a cute little house with one bedroom but that was more than enough for you. You let them in the living room and offered the promised booze. You were still shaking as hell so you told them you would take a quick shower. You couldn't believe you let in your house complete strangers (except for Mick) and you even let them alone in your living room. You had a pretty wild night and the amount of alcohol you drank at the Whisky was messing with you. When you got back to the living room, the band was looking at your family photos and was laughing at them. Well, some of them were indeed hilarious.

"Well, thank you for the hospitality (Y/N), but I think we should go. We arranged a meeting at a girls club not far away." The singer declared. "You can come if you want." He winked and looked back at you smirking.

"No, thank you. Also, here is your jacket." You handed him it back and was smiling at him. On the stage they all looked frightening and badass but in their normal being they were quite handsome and kind.

"Bye, (Y/N)."

"Bye Tommy." Nikki just nodded and followed the others. Mick was standing there thinking. He didn't want to leave you there alone, again. He recognised you were still in shock even if you hid it pretty well.

"I think I'm staying with (Y/N). You can go. We will meet in the studio tomorrow."

"Okay, old man. Also, have fun." The singer muttered and left the driveway laughing. Mick went back at the house rolling his eyes and managed to scare the shit out of you.

"Seven hells, Mick." You held your hand on your chest to make sure your heart was still pounding.

"I'm so sorry. I just thought you might don't want to be alone. And after leaving you there last night without saying any word I thought it might be good to have a talk and discuss all these things. But only if it's not a problem. I'm sure you are exhausted and want to go sleep and all." He turned around and opened the door again when you stopped in front of him, blocking the way.

"It's a good idea. I would...I would be glad if you stayed." You murmured looking down at your hands.

You two talked so much during the night you didn't even realized how sleepy you were.

It was almost sunrise when Mick demanded you to go to bed and sleep. You didn't reject at all and fell on the bed immediately, though you weren't able to sleep. You were rolling in the bed so many times it pissed you off so you went to drink water. You offered your coach for Mick for sleeping which he took gladly and was already sleeping. He woke up when he heard noise and was smirking seeing you in only a loose shirt. When you looked at him he closed his eyes back pretending to be sleeping. You drank your water glancing and admiring Mick. His looked so innocent and relaxed, you didn't want to bother him.

"Sleeping problems?" He asked still having his eyes shut.

"Yep." You muttered taking a sip from your water.

"(Y/N)? It might sound weird, but want to sleep like back in the days?" Your lips immediately curved into a smile and rushed to the coach. You helped Mick got up and went to the bedroom. After you got into bed Mick also laid beside you. He placed his arm on your waist and pulled closer to him. You weren't facing him but you could see the smile on his face. The smile which you were in love with since you met him.

∆

tag: @leatherandheels​

[raspberry-arev]

After The Flood - pt.1

@opalpower13 thank you for sending me a suggestion that inspired this!! There will be a part two :)

It has been 10 years since the famous British boyband, The Ark, disbanded for personal reasons. Jimmy and Lister have been a couple for a long time now, and as the trio of friends starts their small revival tour, they both realize there are things they need to say - to each other, to the fanbase, and to the world.

Characters: Jimmy, Lister, Rowan, Angel/Feresteh, OC Abby (Rowan’s wife)

Tags: Bicci, Older Ark, Proposal, Coming out ... no Frowan this time sorry

Length: 3.6k words

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and grilling camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer. At a certain point during their cook-out, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After The Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, spill.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath.  “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Four

Table of Content or Part Forty-Three

Read HERE on wattpad

Words: 3.2k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse

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@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror

May 10, 1986, is hands down one of the most embarrassing days of my life...and Nikki's...and Tommy's, Heather's, Vince's, Mick's, Tansy's, etc.

I pluck the letter from our accountant off the door, not shocked with its content, but it still sends a streak of anger, sadness, and disappointment through me.

"What's that?" Izzy asks me, and I raise my brows and push it into his chest.

"A snapshot of your future if you don't slow down." I tell him with a sigh, taking my sunglasses off and putting my keys on the keyring as the guys file in behind me. "Nikki!" I call. "We gotta head to the hotel!"

I turn to face Slash, Izzy, Steven, Axl and Duff, digging in my jacket pocket to pluck five keys out.

"There's snacks in the pantry, beer in the fridge, and food in the freezer. Do not go in our bedroom, I will know, and I will kill you. Do whatever you want, but if you break it you buy it and I don't want random girls in here. If anything goes missing..." I start, turning to face them. "...I will make sure your career crashes and burns before you even get it off the ground." I promise, not an ounce of bullshit in my voice, seeing that my words get my point across to everyone except...

"You're bluffing." Axl scoffs out and I raise a brow.

"All I have to do is tell Nikki I have sex with Duff in my dreams." Is what I want to say, but I just brush it off and ignore him as Nikki stumbles in, pulling his jacket on, dragging his suit in the protective covering behind him by its hanger.

"Dude, you alright?" Steven asks him, a little concerned and Nikki pushes past them to go to outside to my car.

"I thought he was the best man." Izzy says and I exhale, grabbing my overnight bag and my dress for the wedding, from the couch.

"He is." I confirm, heading to the door. "Be good, stay out of trouble, I left the number for the hotel and our room number on the fridge." I inform them, opening the door, giving them one last glance. "Thank you for watching the house. I love you, guys."

"Love you!" Duff, Steven and Slash calls back before I shut the door and step to my car.

I put my stuff  carefully in the trunk, seeing Nikki lazily crumpled his suit up and tossed it in.

I roll my eyes and fix his mess, laying it as flat as I can with my wrapped up dress before shutting the trunk and getting into the driver's seat.

Tommy and Heather had the Biltmore Hotel in Santa Barbara as their wedding venue, and everyone decided it would be easier to just stay the weekend instead of driving back home...Nikki had a grand plan to kick drugs over the weekend to avoid rehab.

But he did the exact opposite.

"...So Sparkie had to just give up on making it because his flight was delayed repeatedly and--Do I look okay?" Tansy asks me, looking down at her light pink dress that hugs just the right amount of her overly thin body.

"You look beautiful." I tell her, going over her tracks with more foundation as Tommy comes in.

"Nikki's fucked up." Tommy tells me, irritated and I look at him with dread filling me.

"What?"

"Nikki is fucked up on smack, Viv. That's what. And he's my fucking best man." He repeats. "My parents are here. Her family is here. They're pretty conservative and my best man is obviously tripping on something." He goes on.

"Shhhit." I hiss, walking to the door and he's hot on my trail as I make my way to the groom's suite, seeing Nikki on a couch, nodding off with his sunglasses on.

I take them off and pat his face until he wakes up.

"What?!" He startles.

"Fuck, Nikki." I let out a breath, seeing his pupils are nearly gone, his eyes a dead giveaway to his problem. "Where is it?" I ask and he looks at me blankly.

"Where's what?"

"I'm not playing this game with you. Where is it?"

His pinpoint accented eyes burn into me.

"If it were in your pussy, you'd know where it was." He sarcastically states.

My hand is picking up his pant leg and reaching into his boot, pulling out a lump of tar wrapped in cling wrap.

He rolls his eyes as I go to the other boot and pull out a plethora of syringes.

"Stand up." I order and he rolls his eyes and stands up. "Arms out, legs spread."

He obeys, a tight smirk on his face when I finish patting down each of his arms, and start on his legs.

My hands reach into each of the pockets in his pants to make sure there's nothing in them before he's grabbing my hand and putting it on his crotch.

"You couldn't keep it up right now if you tried." I tell him and he let's out a chuckle.

I just push at his chest and he falls back onto the couch as I gather his supplies.

"You'll get this back later." I lie to him, turning step past Tommy to put the stuff in my bag.

It was a smart tactic, truthfully. He couldn't shoot up because he didn't have his supply. But someone else there did have a supply I didn't even think about until Nikki was borderline comatose by the time the ceremony was about to begin.

"You what?!" I shout at Tansy as panic settles into her blue eyes.

"He was starting to bug out so I just thought--"

"--No, you didn't think about anything! If you had, you would've actually had time to process the fact that he has obligations to Tommy that, thanks to you supplying him with his bullshit, he might not be able to do!" I bark back and tears swell in her eyes as she looks like she's about to cry.

"Viv, just calm down." Vince interjects and I glare at him before looking at Nikki's nearly knocked out form.

"We gotta get out there in, like, ten minutes, Viv." Tommy reminds me, just as frustrated as me.

I let out a weak breath, giving up, rubbing my forehead before looking at Tansy.

"Do you have any blow?" I ask her, and she looks confused for a moment. "He needs to be alert so we can try to hide the fact he's stoned. Key word: 'try'."

"Y-Yeah?" She tells me.

"Bring it here."

She doesn't argue, going to her purse and pulling out a bindle of blow.

I hand it to Tommy and he cuts a few lines of if up, patting at Nikki's face to wake him up.

"Yo, best man, wake the fuck up, snort some, and let's go. I don't wanna be late and I don't wanna embarrass Heather." He tells him as Nikki groggily comes to.

"I'm up, man, just..." He waves his hand at him, sitting up.

I hold out a straw from Tansy's drink, to Nikki, and he looks up at me.

"One minute you're telling me I'm going to rehab, the next you're encouraging me to snort coke?" He laughs humorlessly. "Jesus Christ, are you manipulative or what?"

"Hey, asshole, hush and get your shit together so you don't ruin the most important day of my fucking life." Tommy loses his patience and sternly tells Nikki and Nikki looks insulted.

"The most important day of your life was the day I let you join my band." Nikki fires back, and Tommy rolls his jaw.

"Viv, you're my best man." Tommy tells me suddenly.

"Tommy, just--"

"Am I gonna be standing up there by myself or...?" He interrupts me and I sigh.

"I'll do it, drummer." Mick says from where he's in the corner, minding his business.

"Thank you, Mick. Good to know someone in my band has my back."

"Look, I'm fine." Nikki insists, ignoring Tommy, rubbing his eyes and discarding the lines of white powder. "And I already got the rings, let's just get this done, man."

Nikki goes to get up, but trips and falls into the glass coffee table beside him.

"Babe--"

"I got it." He insists, cutting me short. "I'm good."

No, he wasn't. When we got outside, the afternoon sun just highlighted his sickly appearance.

A disgusting yellow tint to his skin that seemed to cling to his thin frame, although the bloat that only seemed to worsen in the warm weather, covered up his obvious weight loss.

He was dripping sweat, and not because it was that hot outside, and he even left four different times during the ceremony to go to the bathroom (we all know what he was really doing), and when he was present, he was nodding off non-stop.

By the time the reception hit, I was dreading his best man speech.

I eat another bite of my salmon as Tansy and Heather continue to talk about where she and Tommy are honeymooning, and Tommy looks disappointed as Nikki approaches the table from another trip to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, Tommy." I mumble and he sighs out.

"Thanks, Viv." He kisses the top of my hand before looking over my head.

Arms wrap around my neck, and I'm startled a little before I look up and see Athena standing over me.

"Hey!" I greet her, standing up to hug her to me.

"Marry a rock guy and you're suddenly too good for me?" She asks, joking about how long it's been since we've seen each other. "Speaking of your rock guy, he didn't look too good up there." She says lowly through her teeth and I raise my brows.

"He's not." I reply quietly, feeling Nikki's hand squeezing at my shoulder and Athena looks at him over my shoulder and smiles.

"Hey." Nikki tells her the best he can as they hug for a second.

"Hey, dude." Athena says to him. "Um, I'll see you guys before I go, alright? There's hot guys everywhere and I'm gonna go see if I can hook a dick--I mean a date--for tonight."

"Be wise with your selection." I warn her.

"I will." She queezes my hand before stepping away and I exhale softly before sitting next to Nikki and as he drinks down his glass of wine Tommy stands up and clanks his spoon against his glass, silencing the five hundred guests.

"Alright, first of all, Heather and I would like to thank all of you for driving out here to celebrate this day with us. We really do appreciate it, and we love you guys more than you know. Right now, we're gonna take a moment to hear some words from the best man and maid of honor, and then really get the party going." He announces and Nikki squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before standing up, holding up his wine.

"To the bride and groom, may all your struggles be in bed." He let's out with a slight slur, obviously expecting people to laugh, but it falls flat.

"May all your ups and down be in bed." Is what he meant to say, but his brain was checked out, and by the looks on Heather's parents' faces, they were already second guessing the marriage after Nikki said that.

I struggle to keep my cringing on the down low as everyone awkwardly glances around and Nikki sits down, looking a little humiliated as he hides behind his hair while keeping his eyes on the table.

The awkwardness subsides as the maid of honor starts a tear jerking, elaborate speech about her relationship with Heather, but I don't pay much attention, too busy worrying over Nikki.

The way his eyes are shifting around the room, tells me he's anxiously trying to think up an escape plan to ditch this place all together.

My hand goes to his thigh, and he looks at me.

Despite being pissed at him for letting Tommy down, I still feel bad for him. I know he didn't plan to let him down, he just can't fucking help himself and I don't understand why he can't walk away from the drugs.

I give him a reassuring smile before kissing his cheek.

He puts his hand on the inside of my knee, scooting me closer to him, and I rest my head against his arm.

Once the girl's speech is done, Nikki's disappearing and the bride and groom dance is next.

I watch Tommy and Heather, their pure, annoying, over the top, but sweet, love.

I think Nikki and I had that at one point. We had to have had it in order to be so sure we wanted to spend the rest of ours lives together, even though I still second guess myself sometimes, and I'm sure he does, too.

I don't even think I was sure about it when we got married.

Tommy and Heather look so sure, though. They say, "I love you." If I said that, Nikki would probably run for the hills.

Someone's grabbing at my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts and I see Vince.

"C'mon, Miss Ballet." He tells me, and I furrow my brows.

"You're not big on dancing, Vince." I point out as we join other people slowly dancing around Heather and Tommy at this point.

"I'm not dancing, I'm spending time with my worst friend." He chuckles, and I take off my heels, holding them by their straps in one hand while my other hand rests in his, and his other hand holds at my waist.

Our one-inch height difference has me smirking arrogantly at him as we move together.

"What?" He asks.

"I'm taller." I pick at him a little.

"You're not ever gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope." I giggle, shaking my head a little. "Sharise couldn't come?" I ask him and he shrugs.

"Skylar got sick." He explains and I nod as he glances around.

"Where'd he go?"

"Exactly where you're thinking he is." I respond and he stays quiet for a second, holding me a little closer to him.

"Have you two talked more about him...you know...?"

I shake my head.

"He doesn't think he needs rehab, just detox. As for therapy to save our marriage...that's up in the air." I admit, looking as Tommy and Heather laugh lightly amongst themselves as they dance, and Vince rubs his lips together and follows my line of sight.

"When I married Beth, I never thought we'd separate." He tells me and I raise my brows.

"Really?"

"No, I'm just trying to give you something to relate to, to help you not feel alone." He confesses and I laugh a little.

"I'm fine, Vince. I'll be okay."

"You and Nikki hate each other, Vivian. And if you don't yet, you will. Trust me. Beth and I were the same way and we put it off thinking it was gonna get better and it just never did."

"But Nikki and I are gonna work on it and get help." I state.

"Look, I'm not trying to freak you out, I'm just wondering how the hell you're gonna fix things because it's gonna take a lot. And if he isn't sober and on his A-game and giving it his all to mend shit, it's gonna wear you down more and more and it's gonna get uglier."

I know what he's saying is true, and I sniffle back a tear-induced running nose as water lines my eyes.

"Hey," he sees me about to cry, hugging me fully to him now and I wrap my arms around him, tears rolling down my face. "Shh shh shh." He soothes me.

"Vince, I'm scared." I say in a whisper.

"Viv, you guys are gonna be okay. I'm sure you'll find a way take fix things just to spite people saying you two won't last." He assures me, his hand rubbing comfortingly up and down my back. "Look at me." He says and I do, and he wipes at my tears. "It'll be fine, alright?" I nod. "Okay?"

"Okay." I reply, sniffling again.

He kisses my cheek and I hug him again.

"You got this." He promises me.

After our dance is over, Tommy is still in Heatherland and I decide to go find Nikki in the men's room.

"I was about to come find you." He tells me when he sees me come in as he's splashing water on his face in the sink.

"I was waiting for a dance with you but you never came back." I tell him, taking note that he's more aware than earlier.

He doesn't reply, he just starts to pull his bowtie and jacket.

"We can go up to our room and you can change." I suggest calmly.

He ignores me, getting the bowtie off, and sliding from his jacket.

I take them from him so he doesn't leave them, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"You can't strip down and go to the room naked." I argue as he gets his belt loose before getting his pants undone. "Nikki--"

I'm cut off, his lips keeping me quiet out of absolutely nowhere, and as he backs me against the counter of sinks and pushes me up onto it, pushing my dress up my hips. I realize what he's doing. "We can't do this." I break away from him, taking deep breaths as his tongue runs up my neck.

"Why not?" He asks against my skin.

"Because you're not attractive to me right now." I want to say, but don't.

I don't have to.

"I just want you to get better." I say to him and he furrows his brows, giving me the opportunity to realize his pupils are big now, probably due to over correcting his heroin stupor with blow during his bathroom visit.

"So, what, you're just gonna keep your fucking legs closed until I get help?" He asks me as if I'm being ridiculous and I close my eyes and sigh out.

"Nikki, you're sick." I say as calmly and politely as I can, my stomach churning at his appearance. "I'm a shitty wife if I close my eyes and let you fuck me and just pretend you're healthy." I explain.

I think he's going to yell at me, or pitch a fit...but his tears roll down his face and collide with my hands that are still holding him, and he looks angry but tired of fighting.

"I'm trying to fix this. I don't want to go to anybody and have them tell me how to be married and how to live my life. You're not happy and I'm just trying to fix this." He tells me and I swallow back my own tears.

"Sex doesn't fix this, Nikki." I tell him. "I wish it would, I really do, but it just doesn't."

I see an obvious fight within himself as he thinks of what to tell me next.

"Fine." His voice cracks, a mixture of a sigh of relief and a stubborn surrender lacing his tone.

He and I called Bob Timmons and Doc that night.

[ohtheseboysilove]

The sunflower always finds its sunlight X [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]

Words : 3, 800 K +

Warnings : language, little fight, fluff, sap rog.

Summary :  Roger likes Reader since forever but the timing seems to just never be right for them. Reader is still haunted by her past relationship and kept rejecting Roger who know nothing about the abuses she had been victim of. After being rejected for the sixth time,  Roger thinks it’s time for him to move on…

Note : Finally it’s here !! We’re growing closer to the end...maybe five more chapters ? Not too much, sorry for delay but I hope you all love it lovies :))))

☀ Masterlist ☀

800 followers celebration !!! 

Halloween prompt party !!!

“Rog, you’re staring” You murmured into your boyfriend’s ear, squeezing gently his knee to bring him back on earth.

The drummer snapped out of his trance and turned his head toward you, his hand rubbing his exposed chest.

“Sorry” He mumbled and took a big sip of his beer, focusing rather on you than on the man seating on the other side of the table.

Donovan.

“It’s okay” You reassured him and planted a small kiss on his lips, feeling how tense he was.

It had been two months since you told everything to Roger. And you didn’t regret anything, you never felt so connected to him since he knew the truth. He was your rock and sometimes you wondered how you manage to survive without him by your side. He also asked you officially if you could finally be together and you said yes, of course. During these past weeks, you both also did your best to avoid your ex-boyfriend, making excuses to not go out with the band when you knew he would be here. It work for a time but tonight was Brian’s birthday and you couldn’t just passed it.

“I’m gonna smoke” The drummer told you, he didn’t ask to come with him because he knew you would. You always did. Since you started dating, you were closer than ever, attached by the hips and basically doing everything together. Your friends loved to – gently – made fun of the two of you, how glued to each other you were but you didn’t really care. You adored being with him and since he knew about your past, he found in himself an urgent need to be with you most of the time, keeping you safe and loved. Plus, you were already living together and neither of you talked about if you should move back in your old place or not. For now, everything was so good.

“I love you” You whispered when you were both in the garden, your hands gently rubbing his shoulders.

“That’s my line, love” He replied with a little laugh, using his free hand to caress your face before pressing his lips against yours for tender kiss. “I love you” You smiled stupidly and giggled, these three words still doing so much effect on you every time you heard them.

You let your head rested on his shoulder as he smoked his cigarette, taking a little break from the gathering. It was mostly Brian’s family and close friends, nothing too outrageous.

“I hate how he don’t give a fuck about what he did to you” Roger broke the comfortable quietness, taking a deep puff before breathing out loudly. “He is here, partying with us, making joke like he has a right to be here, fucking wanker” He threw his cigarette in the big garden bin that Brian used for his compost and you knew the guitarist would be annoyed by his bandmate when he would notice.

“I know Rog. I know it’s hard but I never been happier since we’re together and I don’t want to change anything about our life” You combed his wild hairs, earning a little grunt when you encountered a knot and quietly apologised. “We only have to see him for important stuffs, few times during the year, we could manage that”

“Yeah” Roger agreed even if you knew inside him, he didn’t. He wanted to confront the man and sent him to jail but for you, he kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t his place to choose what to do about him. “You know Brian lectured me the other day about him ? Saying that it was childish from me to avoid Donovan just because he was your ex” He grumbled and you chuckled at his pouting face, the mood relaxing drastically.

“But it’s a bit true, isn’t it ?” You teased, your pads caressing his cheek, smooth like baby skin.

“Meh” He poked out his tongue. “I’m jealous of every guys who had kiss you” The drummer groaned and you giggled, pecking his mouth few times.

“Well, luck you, you’re the only one I want to kiss” You smiled fondly and he cupped your face, bringing back your lips on his. “I love you so much, Rog”

“I love you too, my little sunflower” You blushed at the old nickname, not quite used to hear it again. “I lo–“

“You’re sickly sappy” Roger groaned as you both turned your head toward Freddie, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “But in a cute way” He pinched your cheeks and the drummer slapped his hand away, sneaking his arm around your waist. He brought you closer and you and Rog chuckled at his positiveness.

“We are, aren’t we ?” You cooed with a stupid smile, rubbing a hand on your boyfriend’s chest. The blond blushed a bit when you kissed his cheek, giving you a loving smile which Freddie didn’t miss.

“I never thought I would see Roger being such a fucking sap” The lead singer repeated with a little smile. “I love it, good job (Y/N)”

“Piss off, Fred” He mumbled and grabbed your hand in his bigger one. “It’s cake time, let’s go”

You swallowed back a giggle and exchanged an amused smile with Freddie before following back the blond.  Roger was still struggling with showing affection in public, his cheeks always reddening and he would turn the situation around, saying something filthy to smooth it. You didn’t mind, it was pretty funny because when you were only the both of you, he was a big softie and you loved it.

The cake was already here and you speeded up to join the rest of the group, watching Brian blew his candles, clapping and cheering loudly. The rest of the evening went fine, Roger and Donovan throwing dirty glances to each other from afar but nothing too dramatic, thankfully.

“(Y/N), remember when we went to Barcelona ? We had so much fun and...” You didn’t listen the rest of his sentence and instead squeezed Roger’s hand to keep him calm.

Donovan was purposely provoking Roger since you started dating, little teasing which could seems innocent for everyone else but you and Rog. And you were having trouble to keep your mouth shut, his smirk driving you mad.

“Donovan, can I have a word with you ?” You stood up and all of your friends fell silent, looking at you strangely. You never spoke a word to your ex usually so it was a bit of a shock for them.

“What are you doing ?” Roger whispered-shouted to you, his fingers grabbing your wrist to tug you back on your seat.

“It’s okay” You smiled and gently moved his hand away, your heart fluttering at the worry in his eyes. You glanced harshly to Donovan, he was more than satisfied to see Roger pissed off. “Kitchen” You said through your teeth and walked away, not checking if this asshole was following you. Of course he would.

“Already bored with Taylor ? I knew you were missing me” He taunted, making his way to you with a large cocky smile. “I miss you too” He winked and stopped in front of you.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing but you better stop now” You warned him, your hands shaking slightly at the proximity of your two bodies. “Leaves me and Roger the fuck alone” You murmured angrily and he simply smirked wider. “Stop talking to me or about me, I know you do that to annoy Roger and I want you to stop”

You never stood up for yourself against Donovan but the fact that he was now annoying Roger was angering you very much. It was more than time for you to tell to piss off.

“I’m not doing anything, sweetheart” He rolled his eyes. “We are all friends, that’s it, right ?” He knew very much that you didn’t want anyone to know what happened between the both of you, he knew you wouldn’t say a word about it and that why he was so confident. And he didn’t care if Roger knew or not, it didn’t matter for him.

“I’m not your friend, asshole” You spat. “I fucking hate you” You felt tears pricked in your eyes but quickly blinked them away.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that, sweetheart” He pouted and put a hand on your face, caressing it lightly.

The touch was light and mostly to tease you but it triggered awful memories in your mind and you immediately jolted apart, yelling to him to stop touching you. He was surprise by your sudden outburst and you were too, you didn’t wanted to cause a fuss but your reaction wasn’t controlled at all.

“Get away from her, now !” Roger had literally jumped of his seat and joined you, blood boiling at the thought of this pig putting a hand on you.

“I barely touched her !” Donovan groaned as everyone walked in the kitchen worried by the shouting. The drummer pushed the brunette on the chest, making stumbled back rather violently. He caught himself on the kitchen’s counter and simply stared nastily at Roger, knowing that he fight back, he would certainly lose.

“What is going on in here ?” Brian asked, his hands resting on his hips like an angry dad. He couldn’t understand properly the situation because for him it was just a stupid quarrel between the ex and the actual boyfriend.

The two men stayed silent, only looking harshly to each other, jaw clenching hard.

“Seriously boys, it’s Bri birthday, could you act civilised for a night ?” Chrissie scolded them, her arms crossed over her chest, annoyed to see the party she threw for Brian going down because of their little fight. “If not, you know where the door is”

You felt terrible. Watching Roger being treated like a rude little kid when you and Donovan knew he had every reason to be angry. The drummer humphed furiously but didn’t answer, simply straightening his shirt, trying to cool down.

“Can you fucking control your jealous boyfriend (Y/N) ? It’s embarrassing for everyone” Donovan spat and Freddie pinched his lips, clearly stopping himself to reply to him. You knew Fred always had a little problem with him, he didn’t know why but everyone knew that.

“Excuse-me ? Are you fucking with me, right now ?” Roger roared with anger, the audacity of the brunette making him furious. “You know what you deserved ? Me, kicking your ass, that’s you deserved, asshole !” You quickly grabbed the drummer’s top and tugged him back to you.

“Roger, drop it please” You whined because it was the last thing you wanted. “Let’s go home” You said louder but he didn’t pay attention to you, eyes glued to Donovan’s, watching him with pure hatred.

“Always a big mouth Taylor but the actions never follow” The brunette snorted and smirked at him. “You should listen to your girlfriend before you make a fool of yourself” Donovan knew that with everyone around, nothing could really happen to him, they would stop the fight before it became too serious so he clearly enjoyed teasing Roger as much as he could.

He was a coward.

“You’re fucking dead” Roger took a step toward him but Brian stopped him straight, his tall body hiding Donovan from his sight. “Move the fuck away Bri”

“No, I had enough Roger, it’s my fucking birthday ! For god’ sake, why do you respond to his provocation ?” You came next to the guitarist, worried to see your boyfriend exploded. “And you, Donovan, fuck off, alright ? You know how easy it is to wound up Rog so stop it !” He slightly turned to look at him and the brunette grimaced but didn’t reply.

“He fucking deserved it Brian !” Roger yelled furiously, he was angrily drunk and not ready to just let go the fight. “He bloody deserved me to knock off this teeth and–“

The curly man put his two hands on his bandmate’ shoulders, not letting it move.

“And why that, Rog, hum ? Because he used to date (Y/N) ? Grow the hell up !” John murmured so soothing words but now the guitarist was upset too. “No Deaky, it’s not okay ! You’re an adult Roger, act like one ! You had been insufferable every time Donovan was around, you’re ridiculous !”

Smoke was practically coming out from Roger’s nostrils. He hated being scolded like if he was a kid throwing a tantrum. Maybe most of the time he deserved it but tonight he knew very much he was right and that only pissed him off more.

“You wanna know why we should all bloody kick his arse ?” He yelled back and you swallowed nervously, feeling utterly useless and now really afraid of what he was about to say. “You really wanna know ?”

“We all fucking want to know that, Rog ! Come on, enlighten us !” Brian scoffed, clearly annoyed and not believing he had a good reason. “Or you can just admit that you’re bloody jealous and we can eat the fucking cake !” Chrissie tried to calm the curly man but he didn’t even look at her. He had enough his band mate's attitude.

Roger breathed out loudly, knowing he had the perfect answer to shut up his friend for good. He knew that a soon as he would tell the truth, he could finally kick Donovan’s arse in peace. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, blood boiling and veins popping up on his neck and face. He was so furious against Brian because he was forcing him tell the truth.

“Roger” You murmured with desperation. You could see what he was about to do. The thing you made him promise to not do. “Please” You stared at him, praying to make eye contact but he purposely didn’t look at you, focusing on Brian.

He was too angry to think clearly.

“He fucking beat up (Y/N) for years ! Is this bloody enough for you, Brian ?”

The silence which followed was deafening. You felt sick, head dizzy and tears rolling free on your cheeks.

“What ?” The curly man asked with disbelief, his anger gone in the matter of a second.

“You heard me right, Brian” Roger repeated, his chest panting with angriness as every eyes fell on Donovan’s, his face pallid after the revelation.

Another silence took place which you accidentally broke, a heartbroken and distressed sob escaping your mouth, purely desperate. That when Roger finally looked at you and processed what he just did.

“(Y/N)...” You shook ferociously your head, refusing him to touch you and instead took several steps back. “I’m so sorry” He babbled completely panicking at your destroyed face.  

“No, you’re not” You cried then ran away from the house, ignoring the pleading calls of your friends.

For a brief second he saw what would happen if he told everyone the truth. He would lost you.

“Roger” You murmured with desperation. You could see what he was about to do. The thing you made him promise to not do. “Please” Roger slowly turned his head toward you and you exchanged a silent glance.

And this time, the drummer choose wisely. He choose you.

You teary and scared eyes were more than enough to shut him up. He swallowed and sighed slowly before interlaced his fingers with yours and simply walked away.

“Let’s go home” Roger whispered and you nodded vigorously, grabbing your stuffs quickly. “Happy birthday Brian” Then you both left, ignoring the interrogation of your friends and went home instead.

And that night, when the drummer watched you sleeping cosily tucking under his arm, completely relaxed as your own arm hugged his side, he knew he did the right thing.

**

Few weeks later, you were packing your clothes and personal belongings into your bright yellow suitcase, humming softly at the song playing on the radio. Life was nice these days and you were happy. It felt good. You smiled widely when you heard the front door open, Roger joyfully greeting you.

“Bedroom !”

“Hi baby, I brought some lunch if you –“ He stopped when he noticed your actions, worry immediately bubbling in his stomach. “What are you doing ?”

You turned around, still seated on the floor and gently patted the spot next to you, a shy smile on your features. He dropped the bag on the bed and came, looking at you through his long eyelashes, swallowing tightly.

“Is everything okay ?” He added in a concerned voice, his eyes trailing on the clothes neatly folded inside the luggage.

“Yes. I thought about your proposition...about coming on tour with you” Roger’s heart raced at your words. “I would love to come, if...if the proposition is still on the table” You timidly said, brushing away hairs from your face.

The drummer had been bugging you for weeks about the upcoming Queen tour. Long ago before the incident with Donovan. Practically as soon as you started dating he had asking you to come with him in tour. You had simply reply that you needed time to think about it and it had been true. You didn’t want to be dependant from a guy, not after what happened with your ex-boyfriend, you couldn’t screw things up again. Quitting your job, touring with Roger but what if he get bored of you ? You would look utterly stupid without money, job and place to live, it was dangerous.

But Roger had been perfect these past months. Doting you – maybe too much – taking care of you and being an absolute sweetheart all the damn time. He supported you in your decision to not do anything about Donovan – even if it was hard for him –, he behaved the best he could every time he had to see him and if had been the other way around – you seeing Roger’s ex abuser and don’t say anything – you would have gone mad. And then at Brian’s birthday, he had been so close to tell everyone the truth. You knew that but he didn’t in the end and it was the only thing which matter.

And last but not least thing, the thought of not seeing Rog – or only for few days off – during the next five months was unbearable. And now, seeing the smile on his face convinced you that it was the right thing to do for your couple.

“You…really ?” He beamed and threw his arms around your chest, hugging you tightly. “Fuck, I love you so much !” You giggled softly and hugged him back, kissing lightly his messy hairs.

“Yes, I told to my boss this morning that I’m leaving in two weeks” You nodded and Roger kissed you harshly, almost knocking his head against yours in the process. “I’m sorry it took me so long to decide it”

“You have nothing to apologise about, love” He shook his head and he softly pushed you on your back, head falling on the several clothes on the floor, waiting to be folded. “You’re so bloody perfect” Roger breathed against your mouth before pressing another impatient kiss on it, feeling so relieved that you finally said yes.

“M’ not perfect” You chuckled softly, hands tangled in his hairs as he gently slid his warm lips against the skin of your jaw, dropping on it several pecks.

“Oh shut up” The drummer tickling you ferociously and few seconds later, you started yelling like a dying pig, begging him to stop.

“Rog, please ! I’m gonna pee myself, m not kidding !” You cried, kicking him as a tears rolled down your face, ribs hurting from too much laugh.

“Alright but only because you’re bloody cute” He pressed a loud kiss on your lips then rolled off you, letting you go. “Come back quickly” He pouted as you exited the room, giggled at his grabby hands.

You couldn’t get bored of Roger’ cheesiness since you get together, it was pretty surprising at first but you wouldn’t change a thing about it. You quickly went to the bathroom then went back to your boyfriend, craving for some more kissing.

“Took you bloody forever” The drummer groaned when you laid down next to him and he immediately took his old spot, carefully not crushing you. “Missed you, baby”

“Sap” You replied with a smirk and let him gently pecked your neck, one hand rubbing your cheek and the other resting on your waist.

“But you like it” He murmured cheekily, his teeth nibbling on your lower lip.

“Love it” You grinned and kissed him back properly, sliding a hand under his shirt to feel the warm of his back.

“Knew it” He whispered then deepened the kiss, his tongue cheekily sliding in your mouth and you moaned softly, his hand tightening around your waist.

It was like if someone had suddenly switched the mood, changing the atmosphere from childish and funny to hot and tense. His kisses weren’t cute anymore, there were hungry, his hands travelling all the way up and down your body, little moans escaping your mouth from time to time. You didn’t stop it – quite the opposite in fact – and bended one of your knee, giving more space for Roger to lay on you. It went on for five good minutes, making out on the floor of your and Roger’s bedroom, his lips kissing every inch of your bare skin, both of you hot and bothered from the situation.

“Baby, baby, wait” The drummer stopped you when you bit on his earlobe, giving him clearly your mood. He chewed harshly on his bottom lip at your face, hairs messy, mouth swollen and eyes filled with lust. How much he wanted to fuck you right now, right here. “If you don’t want to go further, we– I need to stop now” He chuckled awkwardly, shifting a bit and you understood the situation clearer when you felt his hard-on pressed on you.

You and Roger never had sex. Yet. You had some reluctance, not about Roger but about yourself. Not sure if you were ready to trust a man enough to cross this line. You hadn’t been with anyone some Donovan, years ago. And Roger respected that, never pushing you, simply kissing you until you stopped things when it get too out of hands. But today you didn’t and the realisation flowed over you why : You were ready.

“I want to, Rog” You murmured, your fingers stroking gently his flushed cheek. “I want you”

You could hear his breath get caught in his throat as he processed your words, looking at you carefully.

“You’re sure ? You know we don’t have to” You nodded slowly and cupped his face for a long, lazy kiss, pads grazing softly on his neck and the little moan which fell from his mouth brought shiver down your spine.

“I’m one hundred percent sure Rog” You smiled sweetly. “I love you. I trust you”

**

Tag list : @amy-brooklyn99 @mercurycrowley @vanitysfairr @loveandbeloved29 @rogmeddows @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @geek-and-proud @fearless2tobeme @chlobo6 @stormtrprinstilettos @mrsmazzello @neckfruit@khaleesi2017 @jennyggggrrr

[tysukis]

Okay hello I am back to get way too into this au! Also I do technically write, in that I love to outline the hell out of something and then never put real stories together. This is my favorite part, and the compliments from you and @zukkau have made my day. :)

I think it was @procrastinatingqueen who mentioned Sokka dating Suki in a Zuko-Left timeline and it got me thinking about the band situation. Let's say the band is three members at first - Sokka, Suki, and Jet. (He's a shit but he deserved better....) Sokka lands them the gig, Suki is adrift and immediately on board to bounce. I like the fanon that the modern Kyoshi Warriors are a roller derby team, but regardless they're not quite an anchor for her and might even push her to take the opportunity. Sokka is the same. I imagine he and Katara are navy brats, they're used to moving and his sister just demands tickets and facetime calls, "No I don't care how tired you'll be."

Jet, though. He's not the primary caretaker on paper for Smellerbee and Longshot but he's the de facto caretaker. He can't just *do* that. So they replace him - Haru? Teo? Jin? I'm not picky, a handful of canon folks would work. So newly single Sokka goes off with Suki and their new bandmate, and Zuko is simmering on the fact that he's touring with his ex and probably always wanted her anyway. (Probably not, I imagine Suki has at least one supportive partner in their hometown, but maybe also yes for drama?) And Jet, who understands commitment to passionate goals and hard-won family, who now also understands the anger of being abandoned by Sokka in some way, is just so conveniently there. Like, they're not healthy together for sure. But Jet would be chill with Zuko keeping his emotional distance (whether real or just perceived) because Jet also does that?

I promised myself I wasn't going to send you a novel and here we are. But I haven't nailed down why they come back - end of tour? Do they piggyback onto another tour immediately or is this a relatively short separation and the aftermath is still messy?

[context]

Hello! Okay, yes, let’s run with this.

(I like that we now definitively have both a Zuko-Leaves Timeline and a Sokka-Leaves Timeline lmao)

I am proposing: front man and lead guitar Sokka, punk drummer Suki, Haru on bass. (If you wanna make it 4 - Teo on keys.) Of course Zuko would assume the worst, what with Sokka and Suki touring together (and probably misjudged Suki’s reasons for how eager and down she was to just up and leave) but we, the audience, know that she has a covert thing going on with fellow-roller-derby-skater Ty Lee; it’s probably pretty low key for the professional sake of the team.

Sokka and Katara growing up being moved from place to place, and therefore Sokka going on a new adventure with minimal reservations makes sense, I approve. Also Katara and Aang would definitely tag along for at least one leg of it for fun until they have to return to whatever careers/education they persue in their own lives.

I LOVE the idea of Jet and Zuko being brought together by scorn (and I love the way you phrased it - seriously dude I know you said you rarely go further in writing than an outline but that’s a tragedy) it slots in nicely with the canon. I’m a big believer that Jet was a traumatised child in the show and I think translating that into him being A Massive Shithead in fics can be a bit of a played out trope. It’s high time for Complex Character But Not Terrible Person Jet™️. I think they’d bond nicely and, in addition, I think because Zuko never got that whole older/younger sibling dynamic growing up he would adapt and be really good with the freedom fighters.

Whilst we’re looking into how the other characters slot in; Toph? Mai? Azula? What are our thoughts for them? I like to think Toph would be the one to set Zuko straight in the end with his constant moping and pining (I think their friendship was and is chronically under-utilised in both canon and fanon) but I can really see it being any of them.

Dw about not sending a novel, I’m happy to talk about this au all day frankly. I can see them being gone for a while, long enough for Sokka to assume Zuko has moved on etc. I’ve had multiple suggestions for why they come back but a common one is the good ol’ visiting the family excuse. Galaxy brain rachel @zukkababey immediately suggested tis the damn season by taylor swift as a fitting song and I think that works really well - idk if they’d celebrate Christmas per se but I can deffo see them coming back for at least some holiday or celebration. (perhaps an important birthday or graduation?)

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/61673017

Chapter  24

Candice’ advise didn’t let him sleep the following night. He kept thinking about how he would do it, imagined multiple perfect moments and wondered about how Morrie might react. He couldn’t wait to try it out and had to contain himself, so he wouldn’t already try it before Friday. He thought that Mortimer didn’t really deserve a kiss after refusing his offers so clumsily, but he trusted Candice. If he let Mortimer take the reigns they’d be sitting in that dull classroom forever. 

When the band rehearsal finally started he was so excited he could barely hold his guitar. He was glad that the others didn’t pay much attention to him, because they did everything to make their new member feel at home. They explained their songs, played the melodies and rhythms to him and were overall very regardful. 

Mortimer however proved to be very well prepared. He knew the most songs from their stock. Still, he was tense and Norbert, who was just as attentive to Morrie as the others, had the impression that especially his friendliness made the other boy nervous. That motivated him even more. He was proud that he managed to pat him on the shoulders once without blushing. 

Norbert himself wasn’t in his top form though. He played wrong notes with his shivering fingers and it was hard to keep in time in faster songs. In addition he couldn’t stop thinking about what he was going to do to Morrie so he didn’t really pay attention to the band and missed his entries multiple times. Like that, he stretched his friend’s patience much more than Mortimer did. 

At first they made fun of it. Whenever Norbert started to pace out they threw stuff at him. It didn’t hurt, it just startled him and stopped his daydream. But that didn’t always help. 

When Chris shouted: „I’m running out of things to throw!“, in fake despair they all laughed.

But after the umpteenth time he missed a note Brad lost his patience.

„Norbert, for fuck’s sake!“, he yelled and threw his drumsticks after him. That rather hurt, even though Norbert yanked up his arms just in time to parry off the missiles. He gasped anyway and then laughed because he thought it was all fun. That annoyed Brad again.

„Are you drunk or what?“

He got up and walked towards Norbert to find it out himself.

„No, I swear, I didn’t drink anything!“ Norbert backed away, noticing how angry his drummer was and pressing himself against the wall. „I’m completely sober!“

Brad was convinced in a moment since Norbert didn’t smell like alcohol. 

„Oh, I see, it’s about that new bird of yours! What’s her name again?“

„Ssshh“, Norbert hissed and held up a finger. „That’s irrelevant.“

Unfortunately it was already too late. Mortimer couldn’t have overheard that.

„Damn right“, Brad agreed with him. „just get your shit together and focus!“

„For fuck’s sake I’m doing my best here, okay?“, Norbert defended himself.

„Do you? Mortimer is doing a much better job than you!“ He pointed at their new member who was staring at them, looking concerned.

„Oh, he does,“ Norbert suddenly purred and used the opportunity to give Morrie a wink. For a second, Brad was too confused to speak and Matt butted in, stepping forward and creating a barrier between Norbert and Brad.

„Stop it you two! Nothing bad happened, no one died, we’re not on stage and we’re here to practice after all. So let’s keep going!“

„But you pull yourself together,“ Brad insisted, giving Norbert an unsettling stare over Matt’s shoulders.

While they were arguing, Chris went over to Mortimer to soothe him.

„This is completely normal,“ he assured their worried pianist. „Just wait and see, they’ll calm down soon.“ And he was right.

During the next song Norbert payed more attention again, but this little incident didn’t drag him down. It would happen anyway.

They ended with the Unicorn Song, the favorite of their self-written songs. Norbert really went down for it. After the final chord they cheered and congratulated each other.

„That was amazing! We are amazing!“, Chris shouted.

„More or less,“ Brad commented from behind.

„I just wanted to entertain you a bit,“ Norbert said cheerfully.

„It worked,“ Chris chuckled.

While they packed up and arranged their next meeting, Norbert became jittery again. He saw that Mortimer was about to leave first and walked over to stop him.

„Please stay for a moment,“ he whispered. „I gotta tell you something.“

„Oh…okay,“ the other boy answered and lifted one eyebrow. But he waited.

Norbert played innocent, said goodbye to everyone until they were finally alone.

„So what’s so important?“, Mortimer asked.

Norbert answered with a silky voice: „Make a guess, Morrie…“ and took a few steps towards the other boy.

„I..I don’t know.“ Mortimer tensed and stepped back. „What do you want?“

„No idea?“, Norbert purred.

„Not at all. What’s that all about? Are you fucking kidding me?“ Morrie hissed like a trapped animal.

He just doesn’t know what to do, Norbert thought. He’s lucky to have me. With a few quick steps he planted himself right in front of the stubborn boy, grabbed him and pressed his lips on his.

It wasn’t a very elegant kiss. Mortimer kept his mouth tightly shut and didn’t do anything except standing around like he was frozen, until Norbert let go of him.

„You’re not quite romantic, aren’t you?“, Norbert commented, amused by the other boy’s confused face. 

He wasn’t prepared at all when Mortimer started to scream.

„What the fucking hell was that? You think that’s funny? Are you drunk after all?“

Norbert backed away, surprised about how completely wrong this went.

„Come on, not even you can be so stupid, Morrie!“

„You think I’m stupid?“, the other boy spat back.

Norbert decided not to expand on that.

„What do you want me to do?,“ he instead pleaded with him. „Why don’t you get it?“

„Get what?“, Mortimer yelled.

„For fuck’s sake, do you think I sing you a song just for the fun of it?“ Now Norbert yelled too.

„At the same place where you pick up one bird after the other?“, the other boy brought it up again.

„I told you already, it’s not my fault!“

„Do you expect me to believe you? What about that girl you’re dating now?“

„I wanted to spend time with you but didn’t let me!“ Norbert felt tears in the corner of his eyes.

„Do you think that’s all fun? Are you coming for me because you ran out girls?“

„Goddamnit Morrie, I’m absolutely serious! What do you want me to do?“ 

„Break up with her“, the other boy demanded. „And with every other girl you might be dating as well. I’m not another number on your stupid list! Either you mean it or not!“

Norbert felt like Mortimer had kicked him in the guts. He gulped.

„You…you mean…“, he stuttered and searched for something else than anger in the other boy’s eyes. They didn’t soften.

„Okay,“ he managed to say.

Mortimer shook his head.

„No promises. Break up or not. I’m not making any compromises. Good night.“

He walked out without waiting for an answer.

Norbert instead didn’t move. His face was burning and the tears he had felt were running down his cheeks.