#i just get such second hand embarrassment from seeing this under every single concert video | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wonderrdies · 5 years ago

Text

fine line

summary: Boy and girl meet. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl live happily ever after. Except boy is Harry Styles and even when love comes easy, it doesn’t come simple.

disclaimer: this is my first harry fic ever so... how terrifying. also, it is pure self-indulgent garbage and I Frankenstein-ed the shit out of it a dozen times so y’all are gonna have to forgive me. let’s do this. (btw thank you to @hsogolden for this challenge; there’s nothing quite like a goal that makes you force yourself to write)

warnings: some fluff, some angst, a tiny bit of smut and a whole lotta nonsense.

word-count: about 6,000 words

“Come on,” She yells up the stairs. “Daddy’s here!”

“Coming!” the four-year-old yells back, sock-clad feet hitting the stairs with a muffled thud.

“Jamie,” Harry calls, not as loud as they are. He knows his son can’t see him, but surely he can hear his voice; it’s not the biggest of houses. “Don’t run down the stairs. It’s dangerous.”

A quiet and frustrated okay, Daddy is heard in the background, and both the adults smile softly. Jamie’s a cute kid.

“I’m dropping him off at my mum’s and I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s Tuesday night. Don’t you have a song to write or whatever?”

“Can’t really miss my girl’s birthday, can I?”

She laughs, surprised, and the sound of it reminds Harry of the shy girl he met at a bar all those years ago. “It’s not my birthday yet, H.”

“Still,” Harry takes a second to look behind her and check on their son, who’s putting on his shoes while his backpack and a few toys are scattered around him. “Need any help, mate?”

Jamie mutters an agreement so She shifts in the door to let Harry in, and his own face stares back at him from a bunch of family pictures all over the shelves. He kneels beside his child and starts mindlessly tying his shoelaces, turning his attention back to her.

“You should dress up.”

“Harry,” she scoffs. “Is that an insult?”

“Nope,” he pops the p just as he finishes with Jamie’s shoes. “Get your stuff, Jamie. Let’s go see Nana.”

“Can we get milkshakes?”

“Sure, mate,” but She’s glaring at him. “Tomorrow, when it’s not so late, though.”

“But Daddy—”

“Tomorrow, baby.” She interrupts. With a kiss on their son’s brown curls, she says: “Go wait for Daddy in the car. And behave at your Nana’s. I love you.”

Jamie walks away with a “Love you, Mommy”, stuffed kitten under one of his arms and his half-closed backpack hanging on the other. Harry bends over to pick up his other toys but She stops him with a gesture. “Don’t bother, H. I’ll clean it up once you’re gone.”

“I was gonna take them with us.”

“It’s just one night, he won’t miss them,” She pauses. “Too much.”

“Guess mum will just have to entertain him, then,” he drops the toys on the couch and smiles at her. “Be ready, huh? I’ll text you when I’m near.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Let’s get a drink. For old time’s sake.”

She nods, looking suspicious. Then his fingertips brush her cheek and her eyes soften.

“Let’s just not get wasted on a school-night, okay?”

“We’ll be alright, love,” he says, kissing the soft cheek he just touched. It feels like home against Harry’s lips.

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

7 years earlier…

Harry doesn’t notice her for a while. They’re both sitting at the bar counter, only one empty stool between the two of them, but the lighting is dim and the girl looks as closed off as one can get; stiff posture and hair hanging over her face while she stares straight ahead into the liquor shelf behind the bartender. Up until that point, she could be furniture for all he cares.

Tonight, up until that point, he had been reveling in his loneliness. Harry wasn’t one to enjoy being alone much, but after months of touring, family holidays, and being surrounded by more people than he can even imagine at any given time, he got the appeal of listening to his own thoughts for a while. Even if it made him a little restless after a few weeks of it. Even if he caught himself with his mouth open, about to make a random remark on the cute bartender or the questionable music at least twice. Even if he bounced his leg nonstop and grabbed his phone every five minutes, pondering on who to call for company.

So maybe he wasn’t reveling in the loneliness anymore. But he had dressed as ordinarily as humanly possible without wearing jeans (there were no pearls or high-heeled boots in sight) and was drinking beer instead of a Cosmo, blending in. He had to make the most of it. What could he tell himself that he didn’t already know? Maybe, Harry thought, I’m just not that interesting. If he couldn’t stand to spend half an hour hanging out with himself, had people been lying to him? He could feel the spiraling begin.

And then his song starts playing.

At the sound of his voice coming from the speakers, she turns her head. Her hair moves away with the movement, the corner of her lips twitching as if she’s about to smile. She doesn’t, but that’s when Harry notices her. The girl’s mouth moves and he’s pretty sure that if he were just a little bit closer, there’d be a faint whisper of stop your crying, baby, it’s a sign of the times. He wishes he could hear it.

He continues to shoot sideway glances, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by staring. He’s not sure he wants to be noticed, either. She’s a pretty girl singing along to one of his songs; there are many of those. He doesn’t really want to make a scene. But then again, what’s the chance that this woman won’t turn her head at all for however long they’re there?

Before he can worry about that answer, it happens. The bartender is cleaning the end of the counter to Harry’s right, and she shifts to order another drink. As soon as she does, their eyes meet. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing a baseball hat or a beige knitted sweater and black slacks, she knows he’s Harry Styles. The more the thinks about it, the more self-conscious he becomes. Of course he’s hiding something; who wears that kind of outfit to a bar?

“Hey,” he softly says. He’s not sure how this will go, but so far it feels better than trying to entertain himself. Better than wondering.

Her hand shakes around the glass, empty except for the lime and melting ice, but her voice doesn’t quiver. “Hello.”

“Can I get your drink for you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he calls over the bartender. “Can we get another of what she’s having? And a Cosmo.”

What the hell, he figures. It’s not like any of the few middle-aged people in tables around them will see a pink cocktail and suddenly wonder “Isn’t that…?”. Either they recognize him or don’t. When the bartender nods, he turns back to her.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

She shakes her head no.

“America?”

“Not the United States, no.”

He’s about to guess Canada, even if her accent doesn’t sound like that at all, and make a fool out of himself when she says: “I’m not a native English speaker. I teach English back home.”

“Really!” his excitement is the first thing to get a smile out of her. It kinda throws him off for a second; it comes and goes quickly, but her whole face changes around it. Looking away for a second, he notices that their drinks are about to be ready. “Can I —” Harry gestures to the stool between them.

The girl nods, and he comes closer. Their knees touch when he sits.

“Are you here for work?”

“No,” the side of her mouth twitches again. “What about you?”

“I’m home. Just taking some time off.”

“At this time of the year? Sounds like a cool job.”

It’s a bad joke, but he plays into it anyway. “Meh,” Harry shrugs. “It pays the bills.”

“Good for you,” she laughs quietly. “I got this trip for my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday!”

“It’s not today.”

The bartender places their drinks on the counter, the liquid sloshing around a bit, and a little bit of her gin and tonic spills over her hand. “God,” the bartender says. “Sorry, I’ll get—”

“Don’t worry,” she smiles as if to say it’s okay. Then she licks the back of her hand and then her lips. Harry moves uncomfortably in his seat.

“So,” he says once the bartender leaves, taking a sip of his Cosmopolitan. Way better than that shitty beer. “Am I the first or last person to wish you a happy birthday?”

“First. I’ll turn twenty-two in two days.”

“It was an honor to get it wrong, then.”

“Not very subtle, are you?”

He blushes. Actually blushes.

There’s a silent beat where she seems torn between laughing awkwardly or just straight up bolting out of the room, but the girl settles on chugging her cocktail while Harry stutters.

“I’m —” they start at the same time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t —” he stops himself from saying he didn’t mean to flirt. He did mean to flirt. Harry just didn’t mean to be so shit at it. So he settles for: “I just noticed you singing along.”

She brings her drink back to her lips, as if asking for some time to think of what to say, but half a cocktail isn’t enough to hide her smile. He’s staring so intently that she tips the glass towards him and genuinely asks “Do you want a sip?”

Harry just shakes his head no.

“Um, yeah,” the girl starts. “I’m a big fan of yours— your work, I guess.”

“Did you go to any of the shows last year?”

“I couldn’t,” she admits. “But I’ve seen some videos. You looked like you were having fun.”

The comment makes him smile. “I really was. Where are you from? Didn’t I go to your country?”

He realizes then that he sounds pretentious. Maybe she just didn’t want to go to the fucking concert; why is he questioning this stranger as if she’s missed his sweet sixteen? Maybe she’s not even a fan and just heard his single on the radio once. God, what a disaster.

The girl looks embarrassed, like she can’t believe she’s telling him this but won’t shy away from speaking. She tells him the name of her country and explains that she doesn’t live anywhere near the big cities where he played, so she couldn’t afford the trip.

“But if you’re ever passing by again…”

“I’ll let you know,” he says. She laughs quietly, but Harry isn’t really joking. He can see himself texting a nice girl and asking her to come and watch him sing. He’s certainly more impressive up on the stage than here, doing whatever it is that he’s doing right now. “Are you traveling by yourself?”

She hesitates to answer and it makes him cringe. “I sounded like a creep, didn’t I? Jesus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“Don’t worry about it,” and there it is again, the wide smile that changes her face. Out of all the things Harry Styles could do to charm a woman, acting socially inept isn’t the one he figured would win over a foreign English teacher that hangs out at random London bars for middle-aged couples on awkward dates. But here they are and the more he fucks up, the more she looks relaxed.

Harry decides to take what he can get. “I guess I haven’t been getting enough practice talking to strangers lately.”

She’s still smiling, not as wide but just as bright. “I’d probably want a break from people too if I were you. I got here yesterday and I’m already done talking to strangers. I knew it’d be hard to get around in another continent but this is a whole other level; I can’t walk two meters without asking someone for directions.”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Is Google Maps not doing it for you?”

“Shut up,” she chuckles. “Data is expensive abroad, y’know? But to be honest, I’m so fucking obtuse when it comes to maps. The thing is pointing one way and the next I know, I walked miles in the opposite direction. It’s much easier to have an actual person telling me where to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, licking his lips after finishing his drink. He sees her eyes flicker down to his mouth for a second, just like his did a few minutes ago. “You have a point.”

“I do?”

“Not really. I just didn’t want you to feel bad about being a confused old lady.”

That makes her laugh, and Harry feels his heart skip a beat. It’s nice to know she thinks he’s funny.

“But you can’t really be a confused old lady, right? Being a teacher and all.”

Like she said, not subtle at all. But he wants to know more about her.

“Bold of you to assume that most teachers are not confused old ladies, but,” she too finishes her second cocktail, pushing her empty glass away from her and closer to the one Harry just left on the counter. “I’m just a confused masters-student trying to look less confused so my students won’t give me shit about it.”

“Do you like it? The whole academic thing and teaching.”

Her smile is soft around the edges, and he can see the drinks catching up to her. “They have their moments, both working hard to understand the things I’m interested in and helping people learn another language. It’s all hard but worth it,” she’s quiet for a second. “Like most things in life, I guess. What about you?”

“Do I like being an academic?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your job, silly. Is it hard but worth it?”

“I guess it’s like yours in the sense that it helps me understand the thing I’m interested in, too.”

“Music?”

“Me,” he answers, and there is that laugh again.

“God,” she says, voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm. “I hate rockstars so much.”

“Don’t we all?” he sees her staring at their empty glasses, so he offers to buy her another drink even though she looks sleepy. Harry figures he’ll drop her off wherever she’s staying so she doesn't have to walk around alone and drunk.

“I don’t think I can do another one,” she says. “But maybe we could share it? I can definitely deal with half a drink. And I’ll pay for it.”

Before he can say anything, she calls the bartender over and orders another Cosmo on her tab.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, referring both to paying and asking for a cocktail she knows he likes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he thinks it’s probably the fifth time she’s said that in not even an hour. Huh. “God, isn’t it stuffy in here?”

He doesn't think so, so it’s probably the alcohol, but he agrees while she shakes off her coat. When the girl turns so she can hang the fabric over her bar stool, Harry can see, among other quotes and drawings on her arm, the words sweet creature above her right elbow.

“Nice tattoo,” he comments, feeling weirdly proud. It’s not like he doesn’t know hundreds of people get the words he sings on their bodies, but this is different. It’s like trying to know more about someone and realizing, somehow, you already do.

“Which one?” she asks. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over it. It gives her goosebumps. “Oh. It’s a nice song.”

“Why did you get it?”

It makes him feel like an annoying interviewer, trying to get a meaningful answer that isn’t necessarily there. But he’d still like to hear what she has to say.

“I’ve heard I’m not one of those,” is her answer. His hand drops from her elbow.

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told I’m not the sweetest creature,” the smile is gone. She shifts in her seat as if just realizing an old bruise is still tender to the touch.

Before he can decide between asking more about it and risk her thinking he’s a nosy asshole or just give his uninformed opinion and claim that’s bullshit, a Cosmopolitan is put on the bar between them.

“Thank you,” she says to the bartender. He’d thank them too, but he’s staring at that suddenly serious face, wondering what else is there to know about that tattoo. About her.

“Doesn’t it become a reminder, though?” Harry asks, and she looks back at him, not understanding the question. “The tattoo. Doesn’t it remind you that someone feels that way about you?”

“Yeah, I guess” she takes a sip of the drink and slides it over to him, their fingers touching in the process; it’s only for a second, and her hand is gone before Harry can understand why he wishes it wasn’t. “But I got it so, when I think of how he saw me, I would know I’m the one who gets to say what I am or am not.”

Harry is curious but doesn’t really know what to say to that, and it shows. She cringes.

“I always do this, you know? I drink and start getting all sad and telling people about all sorts of stuff no one wants to know. I’m sorry, Harry.”

It’s the first time he’s heard say his name. It sounds good on her accent.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and it makes her smile because she realizes he’s been paying attention.

They share one more drink, and Harry pays for the third Cosmo of the night. By the time they’re finished with it, both of them are giggling and he has one of his hands on her bare knee. After the slightly-awkward oversharing, she proceeded to point out how a couple on the dark corner of the bar seemed, judging by their uncomfortable silence and resentful faces, to be on the brink of divorce. Harry asked her, mostly joking, if she had been around a lot of divorcing couples; she chuckled and then commented on how a dude sitting by the restrooms was probably fingering his girlfriend under the table. She never said no or proved to know about his family by asking him the same thing back.

But now the whole divorce thing was long forgotten. She and Harry had spent the last hour making up the most obnoxious stories about other customers and whispering them to each other, bodies getting closer and closer every minute.

“You know what I want?” she mutters. Between being shorter than Harry and slouching on her seat, her lips don’t reach his ear, so he can feel her breath on the side of his neck. He shivers.

“What?” he asks in the same low tone, eyes glittering with mischief and tipsiness.

Her left hand grips his bicep while she practically purrs: “I really want a milkshake.”

From the way his drunken-self gasps and moans God, yes, she might as well have said that she really wanted to suck his dick.

They pay for their drinks, shared or otherwise, and leave the bar. There aren’t many people out on the street at 1 a.m, but Harry still pulls his hat down a little.

“So,” she says. “Should I get us an uber? Where do British people get milkshakes? Is it far?”

“I’ll just call a driver.”

She looks taken aback. “Like a private one?”

Harry nods. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

And he is. She stumbles into the car along with Harry, sluggishly laying her head on his shoulder after closing the door.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he murmurs against her hair.

So she does.

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

Between dinner, a few drinks and all the talking, they had already broken the not-staying-out-too-late rule. Turns out that rehashing a few days’ worth of parenting, teaching and music producing is time consuming even when you’re not having this much fun.

“One more?” Harry asks, pointing to her empty gin and tonic glass, the shadow of laughter still on his lips after a solid fifteen minutes of her getting progressively more aggravated about a student that “couldn’t, to save his own life, make anyone believe he read The Color Purple”.

“Yeah,” she says. “Share it with me?”

“Sure, love.”

He orders another cocktail, and She smiles at him even while thanking the waitress.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” She replies, still staring shamelessly. It’s easy after all these years. “You just look really good.”

“So do you.”

She shrugs, and before he can say that she really does look beautiful and that he wishes he could prove to her just how much he thinks so (which is a cheap but sure way of making her blush), the waitress places the new cocktail between them.

“God, that was fast,” She mumbles, impressed.

After She takes the first sip, they both start at the same time. “So—”

They giggle, but since She begins sipping again, Harry speaks.

“We’ll both have a couple of months off during the summer, so I was thinking… You could go home.”

“Yeah, I should start planning once the semester ends, I’m just so—” She sighs, and Harry understands.

“I figured you could go and spend the first few weeks, or even the first month, back home while Jamie and I do our thing.” She looks like she’s about to interrupt him, so he holds up a hand as if asking her to wait. “Hear me out. You go home, spend time with your family or your old friends or, y’know, yourself, because — and don’t even fight me on this — I know you need your alone time. And after you’ve had your break, we’ll meet you there and hang out until you need to get back to prepare for next semester and I need to sort things out for the tour. You can even go somewhere else by yourself before going home or we could do a family thing before coming back to the UK if you and Jamie want to. How does that sound?”

She doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t even smile. She just keeps looking at him while sliding the gin and tonic glass across the table so he can have his share. Harry takes two big gulps and waits for her to speak.

“I don’t—” She stops herself. “You thought of it all, didn’t you?”

“I tried,” he laces his fingers through hers. “So you wouldn’t have to. But, y’know, it’s just an idea. And I thought it’d be better if I brought it up early so we could plan everything properly and, in case you didn’t want help paying for them, the plane tickets wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg.”

Still silent, She looks down at their joint hands.

“Thank you, H.”

“I didn’t do anything, love.”

He touches her chin so that She’ll look him in the eyes.

“I love you,” Harry whispers.

She doesn’t have to say it too. He knows.

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

6 years earlier…

“Hey, love,” Harry whispers from the other side of the phone call. “How are things?”

She smiles a tired smile up at her dark ceiling at the sound of his voice. “Things are…” The smile fades, replaced by a shaky sigh. “Things are fine, H.”

She means things are like they have been for as long as she can remember. Difficult. A shit-paying job where she feels like a failure most of the time, too much school work, family drama and all sorts of friendship insecurities. There are good days of course, but today just isn’t one of them. She didn’t want to ruin his call, the only silver lining of the night, by complaining. So things are fine.

“What about you? Is everything good over there?”

“Everything’s great. Had some really good wine earlier today, reminded me of you. You would’ve loved it.”

“Bet you were in a villa, feeling the breeze on your hair, staring at a gorgeous canal or some fancy shit like that,” she jokes.

Harry laughs. “Yeah,” is his answer.

Oh.

“I kinda wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“About what?”

She sits up on the bed, her room quiet except for the shifting of her body over the clothes she took off but didn’t bother to fold before laying down after work.

“You should come,” he answers on the phone.

“What?”

“To Italy.”

“Baby—”

“Come on, love. You always wanted to travel here. Come meet me.”

“Harry,” she sighs. “You’re insane.”

She can picture his face falling just by the sound of his voice. “Why?”

“It’s the middle of September; I’m working, I’m studying. I can’t even afford it. Do you need any more reasons?”

Harry sounds frustrated when he answers, and it brings tears to her eyes. So much for a silver lining. “You can take a day or two off, right? Or just stay the weekend. You know I’ll pay for your flight.”

“Baby,” she takes a deep breath, trying to not let her annoyance show. “I’m almost finished with my master’s; I won’t get it done by missing classes. And yes, you’ll pay for my flight, but that’s not the only expense that goes into traveling and I won’t depend on your money. You know this. We can go when there’s a holiday here. Or mid-December, when the semester is over. I’ll have saved some money by then. I love you for thinking of me but… I can’t, H. Not now.”

He mumbles something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I didn’t hear you,” but she knows he did it on purpose. “Can you say that again, please?”

“I said you’re making up excuses.”

‘You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious! You won’t even try.”

“How am I supposed to try? Either I can or can’t go. And I can’t.”

“You won’t even consider it,” his voice is filled with disappointment. It makes her blood boil.

“Harry, you sound like a child. Listen to me. Even if I went only for the weekend, I’d waste almost an entire day flying back and forth. We wouldn’t even have twenty-four hours together.”

“Don’t you think that sounds better than not being together at all?”

“I bet it does sound better for you, sitting your ass in a gondola, eating your rich-people cheese with your snobby friends, thinking of lyrics about fucking a girl that second-guesses putting you before herself while said girl is out there, flying to you so she can have a hug and a kiss and pretend that everything is fine.”

She’s crying by the time she stops talking, and she knows he can hear it. While she sobs, mostly angry but also starting to regret saying anything at all, he doesn’t say a thing. He could have stopped breathing altogether, considering how quiet the other end of the line is.

“Harry?” she half-pleads, half-scolds. “Talk to me!”

“I’m sorry,” his voice is uncertain, like he can’t quite figure out what to say and how to say it. “I guess I— I miss you. I’m being a prick.”

The weigh on her chest doesn’t go away with the apology, because she doesn’t know if he understands. And she just called his friends snobby and said she pretends to be happy. God. But she can’t say she’s sorry too because she won’t stop crying. She’s just so tired.

“Love,” Harry says, firmly this time. “Don’t cry, it’s okay. Have some sleep. Drink some water. We’ll talk properly tomorrow.”

“No,” she hiccups into the phone. “Wait. I’m—”

“We’ll talk, I promise,” she thinks he’ll hang up then when he hesitates, but he speaks again. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The line goes dead. She cries herself to sleep.

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

"God," he pants against her bruised neck.

“What?” She teases. “Are you getting too old for this?”

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, still breathless. “I’m barely in my mid-thirties.” He pushes the sheets away and gets up, looking down at her naked body sprawled across the bed; if he wasn’t so tired, he’d be horny again. “Want some water?”

“Yeah. Thanks, baby.”

He walks out of the bedroom wearing absolutely nothing, which is one of the perks of a child-free house. By the time he’s back with their water, She’s wearing his teal button-up and brushing her teeth, messy natural hair framing her face.

“H,” she calls from the suite’s bathroom, speech slurred because of the toothbrush. She spits before continuing, “Can you sing me a song?”

Harry chugs his water and lays back on the bed, waiting for her without saying a word.

“Can you?” She asks again, climbing on the bed in all fours, hovering over him. “Can you?” A whisper against his mouth. But when he leans over for a kiss, she falls to the bed, suddenly grinning, and hugs his side. “Come on.”

“Such a tease,” he mumbles, already hugging her back and tangling his legs with hers.

Harry starts singing quietly, voice still a little rough even after the water, and he can feel her smiling lips against his chest.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you…

“How romantic,” she says quietly once he’s done.

“That’s me, only doing the best for my girl” he says smugly, which makes her laugh, but then he turns serious. “I love you, you know?”

“Love you too, H.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

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

5 years earlier…

The paparazzi call her name on screen. There are not many of them, but it disturbs Harry nonetheless; three or four photographers outside a restaurant, just waiting for her and yelling at her once she walks out the door. She looks nervous in a way Harry can imagine other people not noticing, fidgeting hands and a fast walk. But her face is serious and dismissive while she walks straight ahead.

“Are you Harry Styles’ new girlfriend?” one of them asks from behind the camera.

Harry pauses the video, telling himself he needs to ask someone on his team how the hell they found out who she is just by a blurry picture taken through his car window a few days ago when she’s not even on social media, which is true. But he’s also not sure he wants to hear her answer. He checks the time under the video; it was posted less than an hour ago. He should call her and ask if everything’s okay, but he just presses play again.

“No,” she answers right away. Harry feels like he’s sinking.

Why the fuck did they not discuss this before she moved to England? What was he thinking when he resisted PR’s involvement? They should’ve planned for this, coordinated answers, made up their minds so he wouldn’t feel sucker-punched and she wouldn’t be thrusted into the spotlight with no warning.

“You were in his car last Monday!” someone says, as if telling her she’s a liar.

She doesn’t bother responding to that. They keep calling her name.

“What are you and Harry, then?”

She’s almost down the subway’s stairs and there’s not many seconds left in the video, so he’s not too worried about what happens next. Harry looks at his phone, expecting her to disappear from the frame so he can text her and ask her to come over so they can talk, so he can hold her and make sure she’s not freaking out. But she slows down, considering the person’s question. She turns her head to a camera somewhere to the right of the video he’s watching, curls falling down the side of her face.

Matter-of-factly, with amused eyes but no smile, she says: “Soulmates.” And then she’s down the stairs and the video ends.

Harry stays very still. Text notifications appear over and over, more than one person saying the same thing: apparently they found her on her university’s website, where she’s listed as a doctoral student. He doesn’t open the messages, though; doesn’t even breathe until there’s a knock at the door.

Everyone else just rings the bell or asks to be buzzed in. It’s her.

Harry walks to the door, bare feet sliding on the wooden floors, and opens it. She’s standing in front of him dressed in the same black skirt and pink sweater from the video, hair messy around her serious face.

“H,” she starts. The sound of her voice relieves most of the pressure in his chest. “I—”

He doesn’t let her finish; just kisses her like he would kiss a soulmate. She steps forward, dropping her bag and closing the door with one hand while the other busies itself holding onto the soft cotton of Harry’s worn T-shirt, the feeling of his tongue against hers making her dizzy.

They stumble into the couch, her hips sitting on top of his, breathing heavily against each other’s lips. Harry takes longer than necessary stripping her of her sweater, gripping every inch of exposed skin as if he could keep it to himself. “Harry,” She whispers, asking him to hurry. The pink fabric falls to the floor and his right hand instantly pulls at her hair, her back arching so he can get one of her nipples on his mouth. “Harry,” She breathes out again, tortured, and a careless move of her hips makes them both gasp. The hand that’s not tangled in her hair squeezes her tight so hard they’re both sure it’ll bruise.

“Lay back,” he says before sucking on her other nipple, teeth grazing her skin and making her grind into him with more purpose. Despite his words, Harry doesn’t move so she can do what he’s telling her to. “I want to—” he bites her shoulder, hard, “see if—” sucks a mark into the side of her breast, “you can move like that on my face.”

She moans at his words, his mouth, his hand on her hair, tightening by the second.

“No,” she licks her lips, but never finishes the thought. Her hand drops to the one he has on her tight and squeezes it. “Can you—”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, letting go of her thigh. His hand disappears beneath her skirt, and she can feel him pushing her panties out of the way. He swipes a finger against her so lightly she can barely feel it. “Is that what you want?”

“More.”

She lifts her hips, trying to get more friction on his hand. “Come on.”

Harry slides one finger into her, then another. Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp, and she feels like she’s stopped breathing altogether once he fucks into her fast and hard, thumb brushing against her clit.

“Kiss me,” she whimpers, riding his fingers frantically, the sweat dripping down her torso sticking to Harry’s T-shirt.

Their mouths meet at the same time he squeezes a third finger into her. She moans against his lips and holds his waist under his clothes, seemingly undecided between tugging at his shirt or his belt.

“H, let me,” she murmurs the words into his lips, still pulling at his clothes.

“No,” he sounds as wrecked as she does, which is saying a lot. “Cum for me first.”

Harry stops moving his hand, tries to tease her, but she barely seems to notice, moving so desperately that he hits all the right places without even trying. With a sob, she squeezes tight around his fingers and rides out her high while clinging to Harry for dear life.

Her head falls to his shoulder, face hiding behind her hair and in his neck.

“Good?” he asks, voice raspy, wiping his soaked fingers on the side of his pants.

She doesn’t say anything for a second, just breathing hard into his skin, then sobs again. Not with pleasure.

“Love?” Harry questions in worry. “What’s wrong?”

Her body starts to shake in his arms, tears mixing with the sweat on his T-shirt’s collar. He calls her name, scared out of his mind with what this could mean. Did she come here to say she couldn’t do this anymore? He didn’t let her say a thing before kissing her. He should’ve listened, should’ve waited, should’ve asked her what ‘soulmate’ meant when it couldn’t mean ‘girlfriend’.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, hugging him closer even though there’s not any space between their bodies.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks quietly.

“I know this is freaking you out. I just—” and then she’s sobbing again.

“Talk to me,” Harry begs.

“I love you so much, H,” he could feel the but at the end of the sentence.

“I love you too…” he swallows before asking, “Is this about the photographers? Are you upset they were around? ‘Cause we can fix that.”

She looks up at him, the tip of their noses touching. With furrowed brows and swollen eyes, she mumbles, “You gonna have them killed or somethin’?”

He’d laugh if he could. “Not really. I’ll do something, though. Whatever it is you need me to do.”

She rests her chin on his shoulder so he can’t look her in the eyes. In a whisper, she asks: “Can you freeze us in time?”

“What?”

“I’m scared we’ll lose this,” She confesses. “I’m so in love with you, Harry and I— I don’t want us to be boyfriend and girlfriend the way I’ve learned it, owing each other and the world explanations and parts of ourselves. I want us to choose to love each other every day because we can’t help but do so — a forever that looks like the way you offered me a drink, the way you flew out to meet me after our fight and promised we’d do better, the way you kissed me today; like it’s not simple but it’s easy. ”

Harry stays silent for a while.

“I’m sorry if it makes no sense,” her voice shakes. “I think I’m just desperate not to lose myself in you while getting to keep you and— I don’t know, it doesn’t sound as reasonable as I thought it would.”

He whispers her name.

“Yeah?”

“Being with you forever, one day at a time, sounds reasonable to me.”

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

“Do you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“Marry me, love,” he laughs softly. “Do you want to?”

She’s silent, tear-filled eyes staring up at him.

“You know how I knew it was time?” Harry asks, still in a low voice like they’re somewhere sacred. Home. “We built a family out of a promise we didn’t even have to make. A while ago, even before Jamie, you told me we shouldn't owe each other, and it’s true. I won’t ever ask you for anything you haven’t already given me, because that’s how you love me too. But I’ll ask for this because it’s ours and I know it’ll stay this way.”

They’re both crying, and her shaking hands try to wipe away his tears.

“I want to,” She says.

That sudden bright smile takes over her face like it did both years and minutes ago. It doesn’t take him by surprise anymore.

#FineLineFicChallenge #harry styles #fine line #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #hsogolden

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justwritethatdown · 5 years ago

Note

Ahm. .39 please? Thanks!*

39. “Please come home, I miss you”

First of all thank you so much for sending me this, it was my first prompt ever! I really hope you like it, it came out way longer than I expected

WARNING: this was written listening to ‘Lover’on shuffle, so read it at your risk

Mostly based on Taylor Swift’s ‘False God’ but honestly it’s inspired by Taylor swift in general

Words count: 4809

Rating: I’d say a light M, there’s no smut but sex is mentioned and implied many times, also there’s a bit of cursing…

We still worship this love

Beca was on her first (of many, hopefully) Europe tutor. After signing with DJ Khaled two years before, her career in pop music took a leap and she had published two albums already, the first one took her around the US for a sold out tour that set the ground for her second one to be a worldwide success, which lead her to Paris, Nice, Rome, Milan, Berlin, Dublin and currently London. She had still two cities in the UK before moving to Holland, Spain and finally head back home, home where her girlfriend was waiting for her.

Since they got together Beca and Chloe had spent more time apart than in the other’s presence; the two best friends had very recently found the words and the courage to talk about what their feelings for each other really were and Beca had to leave for her tour almost immediately after that.

Beca didn’t really think about the consequences when she wrote a painful song about pinning / unrequited love, way too detailed for Chloe or any of their aca-friends to have any doubts on who the person she wrote it for was, and the release of said song as the first single of her newest album lead to their group chat blowing up for a day straight and a sobbing redhead showing up to the front door of Beca’s apartment in the West Village. Beca feared the worst at the sight of her friend that upset about her feelings, but she soon found out that those feelings were the same ones Chloe had bottled up for as long as the brunette did.

They spent the night together, kissing and exploring each other’s bodies, learning how to please one another, discovering how it felt to be with a woman and how it felt to be with someone they both had spent years fantasizing about. In the morning, when Beca woke up curled up to Chloe’s naked back and realized it wasn’t just another one of her dreams, she felt an happiness she’d never felt before, it was like she’d been asleep for this whole time and she was just now seeing the daylight.

She felt the redhead stretch in her arms and turn to face her with a soft, calm smile “good morning” she whispered before gently kissing her “I love you" answered Beca after their lips parted, which caused Chloe to kiss her again, more firmly. It wasn’t the first time any of them phrased her feelings like that, they shared many ‘I love you’s during the night, but it still sounded new to them and made both of their hearts burst out of happiness. When their kiss came to an end Beca pushed back a little to be able to look at Chloe, the golden morning light illuminating her face and body made the petite girl think she didn’t want to see anything else for the rest of her life. Just Chloe.

The group chat was still blowing up, ignored from the both of them until then. “Oh my God, when are they going to calm down?” groaned Beca and Chloe giggled shifting under the sheets to reach for Beca’s phone on the nightstand before going back to snuggle into the brunette, she made sure to cover every ‘indecent’ part of their bodies before snapping a selfie of them and sending it to the Bellas chat “DUDE!” gasped the brunette grabbing her phone but it was too late, the photo was delivered and their friends were already starting to completely lose their minds about it. “Why did you do this?” she whined staring at her screen filling with celebrative messages and a ‘FUCKING FINALLY! Pun intended 😏😏 ✂️✂️✂️✂️’ by Stacey that made Beca’s mouth fall open and go incredibly dry, while she was blushing in horror and embarrassment. “To answer to all their questions at once” explained Chloe taking the buzzing device from Beca’s hands and abandoning it somewhere on the bed before starting kissing along the brunette’s neck making her inhale sharply “yeah, o-okay but… we better put this away" she observed escaping from the redhead’s arms and putting her phone back on the nightstand “…unless you want to send them a video too" she joked with a fake annoyed voice that made Chloe giggle and move to straddle the brunette “Nope. This is just for us" she purred pushing her back on her back, looking at her with the sweetest sexy expression Beca had ever seen. She’d never wrapped her mind around the fact that Chloe could be so incredibly hot and adorable at the same time, it took her breath away.

“I have to take off next week” sighed Beca sadly; they were still laying on her bed on top of each other, Beca’s right ear near Chloe’s navel while the fingertips of her left hand traced random paths on her abdomen “I know…” huffed Chloe, gently stroking dark locks of hair.

Suddenly Beca sat up straight startling the other girl a little “we can do this, right?” she asked panicking “hey…” whispered Chloe sitting up and cupping Beca’s cheek “…I’ve waited too long for this to let it go now, we’ll make things work" she assured her “I want to be with you and a couple of weeks apart won’t stop me" she added “it’s almost a month Chlo… with different time zones and-“ Chloe cut her off with a kiss. Beca was always the pessimist between them and the redhead was used to having to convince her things were gonna be alright, but this time she felt like her life depended on that. “Listen to me, do you trust me?” she asked “always” answered Beca without losing a beat “then would you close your eyes and just jump in this with me? I know it’s gonna work, I feel it" she begged her touching her own chest “can you do it for me?” she added swallowing, it was barely whispered, so quietly that Beca wouldn’t have heard it if Chloe wasn’t basically sitting on her lap. The brunette delicately wrapped her fingers around her wrist, gently tugging at it and lacing their fingers together “I would die for you" she assured looking into the watery blue eyes in front of her with such a seriousness that let Chloe knew she really meant that, it made her chest rise and a hint of a smile appeared on her face “please don’t ever do that" she breathed out resting her forehead on Beca’s.

“We were crazy to think Crazy to think that this could work Remember how I said I’d die for you? We were stupid to jump In the ocean separating us Remember how I’d lie to you?”

Things went downhill pretty quickly when Beca left. The two girls were just in the honeymoon phase of their relationship and only the fact of not being able to be all over each other the whole time was enough to drive them crazy. To worsen the situation Chloe had her finals at vet school and Beca had those goddamn paparazzi following her everywhere.

The petite girl was always very closed up and kept her personal life super private, she never thought about officially coming out because it was nobody’s business and she couldn’t see why that mattered. She told her friends she was bisexual a few years ago and was pretty sure her father always knew. None of them made so much of a deal about it, as it should be, but the most obsessed fans were speculating on her sexuality and constantly talking about the fact that choosing George Michael’s ‘Freedom! ’90’ as a debut song was a pretty clear statement and her not mentioning a man in the single nor in the whole album just increased their theory about her being gay. Some of them even guessed the song was about her former college friend and co-captain Chloe Beale, stating that they always had good chemistry during the Bellas’ performances, but they were wondering why she wasn’t on tour with her (like if she had nothing else to do with her life). So yeah, everyone was up in her business and she hated it. They were constantly taking pictures of her making up stories about her and Theo or her and some member of her security team or her and some random people she didn’t even know.

Beca and Chloe were constantly fighting about nothing; their conversations usually started with the right foot, but as soon as one of them said something that wasn’t exactly what the other wanted to hear things escalated quickly.

“are you still or already awake? These time zones are messing with my brain. Anyway I just got to the hotel room after the concert, I really wish you were here with me right now" lamented Beca through the phone “how’s the study going?” “ugh it’s so boring, please come home, I miss you” whined Chloe in response “baby…” sighed Beca heavily “you know I can’t do that, there’s a contract and… and even if there wasn’t one, there’s people who’s been waiting to see me for months, they look forward to this! I can’t let them down like t-“ “you mean you don’t want to” interrupted her Chloe. Beca wasn’t that keen on the idea of having screaming people who worshipped her and would do anything to see her, but she felt the sense of responsibility that came from all of that and she didn’t want to disappoint anyone. After a pause Beca cleared her throat and replied “no… no I don’t want to, that would be rude and unprofessional.” “of course you don’t” stated the redhead “why should you? You’re living your best life, sorry for being so boring that I have to study to be a vet and can’t be your groupie” “excuse me? My what now!? Where did that come from?” exclaimed Beca outraged.

“And you can’t talk to me when I’m like this Daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you You’re the West Village You still do it for me, babe They all warned us about times like this They say the road gets hard and you get lost When you’re led by blind faith Blind faith”

After not getting a response she scoffed “you know what Chloe? I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Call Amy or Flo… see whoever’s in New York and go get some fresh air because these fucking finals are driving you insane" “yeah sure, blame it on my exams, on the fact that I’m stressed out, say what you want. The truth is that our lives are different, you should just break up with me… I’m just a burden for you, you should be out there enjoying your celebrity life" Beca knew Chloe wasn’t serious about that, that she was just trying to provoke her for some reason, to scare her maybe, and in all honesty she succeeded. Only the thought of not being with Chloe, to lose her, knocked all the air out of Beca’s lungs ‘Chlo, you know you’re everything to me, don’t say things like that please’ was what she wanted to say, but instead what came out of her mouth was “bullshit! Stop throwing your fucking insecurities at me Beale, it’s not my fault if you think that of yourself” and then hung up.

She knew she screwed up, if Chloe was insecure about their relationship her job was to let her know how solid it was, how deep her feelings for her were, not to yell at her like that, but Beca was like a wild animal (a rather small one, like a raccoon or one of those flying squirrels) and as such she tended to bite when bothered. Fighting with Chloe was the absolute worst, no matter who ‘won’ the fight, she always ended up wounded or at least bruised, it pained her to hurt Chloe just as much as it did when Chloe hurt her. She knew it was the situation they were fighting, that they didn’t really mean any of the things they said during their fights, but it hurt all the same.

Aubrey warned them, she flown all the way to New York, sat them down one evening before Beca left and told them it would have been hell, that they would have been frustrated most of the time, that Beca would have hated the tour and Chloe wouldn’t have passed her exams as brilliantly as she could have. But they (Beca actually) fought her about it, explaining to her how what they had was stronger and different and that they would have been okay, that she knew that. Chloe’s heart felt so full seeing her girlfriend, who was so pessimistic about it only a couple of days before, so sure about them; just because Chloe promised her that morning they spent in her bed. And she believed her, she believed her like people believed in God, with no proof, just blind faith.

“I’m not saying that I have doubts about your feelings for each other, I saw this grow before my own eyes, I’d be a fool to doubt that. I’m just saying that this is the worst way to start a relationship. You should wait until the tour is over and you’re both in the same city again" stated the tall blonde standing in front of them in a power pose with her hands on her hips “Aubrey, I feel like I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I can’t wait anymore.” At that confession Beca made looking into Chloe’s eyes Aubrey let her arms fell on her sides with a sigh “okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you"

“But we might just get away with it Religion’s in your lips Even if it’s a false god We’d still worship We might just get away with it The altar is my hips Even if it’s a false god We’d still worship this love We’d still worship this love We’d still worship this love”

The night after the fight Beca was a wreck and her concert wasn’t as good as the others. When Chloe read about it on the online gossip magazines she felt terrible. She hated it when Beca was upset and knowing the reason was her, destroyed her. She wanted to support Beca and celebrate her and be there for her, not bring her down and less than anything she wanted to set her free like she told her the other night. When she knew Beca had arrived in Manchester she sent her a text

Hey babe, give me a call when you’re settled? Promise I won’t pick up another fight. Love you xx (♡C)

Love you too (-> ♡C)

Was all Beca replied, she was tired from the sleepless night and still grumpy from the fight but she appreciated the message and didn’t want to make things worse by ignoring it or replying something stupid. Chloe took her reply as a win, at least the brunette still felt like letting her know she loved her.

Chloe let out an heavy breath running her fingers through red locks, she couldn’t wait to tell Beca how sorry she was and how much she loved her. The sudden buzzing of her phone made her jump and then smile “hey b-“ “I was an idiot” Beca’s voice through the phone interrupted her and she raised her eyebrows in surprise “I don’t know why I always do this” continued the brunette “maybe it’s some sort of self destructive behaviour or maybe the trauma from my parents’ divorce” she scoffed “but anyway… I tend to break the things that I love, but I won’t do that to us. I-I don’t wanna hurt you, like… ever! It’s the most painful thing for me to do. And I don’t want to lose what we have” she stopped to take a breath and Chloe took the opportunity to jump in “Becs that’s… that wasn’t your fault, I’m the one who should apologise for being an idiot and saying stupid things” “Chloe… you and me, that’s my whole world. That’s what I should have told you instead of snapping at you okay? I should have told you that I count the days and the miles that separate me from you and even if this life is crazy and exciting, I don’t want it if I can’t share it with you" “Beca…” “and I am so proud of you for graduating at vet school baby, don’t ever think I’m not, okay?” she added with a soft voice “Beca I love you so, so much. I don’t… I don’t know what to say y-your speech was…” sobbed the redhead “you don’t have to say anything I just needed to make sure you knew exactly how I feel" “I do. I know how you feel because it’s exactly how I feel Beca, I-I love you more than anything in the world and I just want to make you happy” Chloe wasn’t crying anymore but she still struggled to keep her words even “you do, more than anything” answered Beca with a smile.

They talked for hours until Beca had to leave to get the last things ready before the sound check “have fun baby, I love you" “oh I will, Amy is coming to see me, she asked me three VIP passes and I’m not sure what to expect from her… oh by the way she said she’s streaming the whole thing live on her Instagram… so you can try to watch some of it maybe? Though I know it’s a crazy time for you so if you’d rather sleep is okay, don’t worry" “I wouldn’t miss it for the world” said Chloe before hanging up.

“Hi guys, thank you all for coming! Uhm… I know most of you have the setlist for this and I promise you, I’ll sing all those songs, but tonight I wanted to open with a song for my girlfriend” at that the fans went crazy, some of them screamed so hard that Beca feared for their vocal chords. When the crowd calmed down a rearranged version of ‘The Only Exception’ by Paramore (that Beca had mixed in half an hour before the concert) started playing.

After the concert Beca found a lot of texts from her friends who had apparently been watching Amy’s live:

BECA THAT WAS ACA-AWESOME OMG SO ROMANTIC!!! 💕💕💕😻 (Legacy)

I love you. You’re worth the risk too baby ♡ call me when you can, I’ll be awake (♡C)

I am proud of you Mitchell! And for the first time, I’m glad I was wrong ;) (Posen)

OMG Beca did you just came out to the world like this!?!? You’re such a rockstar! (Jesse)

YO GIRL, the concert was amazing, as usual 💥💥💥 (CR)

Someone is whippeddddd 😜😜😜😜 proud of you, babe 💋 (Stace)

Love wins!! 🌈🌈🌈🦄🦄🦄🌈🌈🌈 (Jessica?Ashley??)

Wow Beca, amazing concert! Didn’t expect that first part 😍 (Flo)

Love wins!! 🌈🌈🌈🦄🦄🦄🌈🌈🌈 (Ashley?Jessica??)

Hey I saw the live, it was great!! (Benji)

👏🏼👏🏼 💪 (Lilly)

She only quickly replied to Jesse and Stacey before calling Chloe immediately

Wow dude, I was actually gonna call you tomorrow about that… I mean, I didn’t want to erase our story or anything… that song was a bit extreme… (-> Jesse)

Shut up bitch! (-> Stace)

“Hey baby, you should be sleeping” “how am I supposed to sleep after that!?” asked Chloe, her voice was bubbly and Beca could hear how wide her smile was, it made her smile too. To make Chloe happy was what she was in this World for, she was sure about it “that was the most romantic thing anyone ever did for me! I don’t know what I did to deserve you, honestly” “must have been something bad…” joked the pop star “so you’re not mad, right?” she checked even though the answer was pretty obvious “mad? Beca, the only mad I am is mad for you" “cheesy” laughed Beca “said the girl who just dedicated a love song to me during her own concert” scoffed Chloe “look babe, I gotta go, Amy decided we have to go get drunk to celebrate… in the end the one pass was for her date, he’s not that weird this time by the way, and the third one was for a dude she paid to hold her phone the whole time so she could enjoy the concert, can you believe that?” asked Beca laughing again “…I mean yeah, that’s totes something she would do" replied Chloe giggling “go have fun baby, I love you" “love you too, goodnight”

All cool. I know what we had and I know she’s something else, she always has been. I’m happy for you (Jesse)

🤐 (Stace)

Thank you Jesse (-> Jesse)

After that night to her concerts started to appear pride flags and Beca had to admit it felt nice, but what really got to her was one girl in Spain that stopped her on the ‘Ramblas’ while she was visiting Barcelona “hi you’re Beca Mitchell, right? I don’t wanna bother you I just wanted to thank you for what you did in Manchester. I am a lesbian and to know that my favourite female singer has a girlfriend makes me so happy, you have no idea how much this means to me. You have given me the courage to come out to my best friend and to my brother” Her eyes were watery as she spoke and Beca just looked at her speechless “representation matters, and I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart” she concluded and Beca, for the first time in her life, felt the need to hug someone who wasn’t Chloe, maybe it was because the girl must have been thirteen years old or maybe because she was so considerated to respect her space and not asking for a hug or a photo, but she decided that it was almost certainly because of what she said, because she’d never thought about being a role model or someone that made others feel like they belong, that there is nothing wrong with them “uhm, you want a hug?” she asked screwing up her face cause she knew how awkward she sounded “oh ohmygod really?” answered the girl over the moon “c’m here" she said hugging her.

Beca couldn’t wait to be back home, before leaving she had given Chloe the keys of her apartment and she knew she would have founded her there waiting for her. What Beca didn’t know was that Chloe had organized a little ‘welcome back’ party with all the Bellas, only Amy, Flo and Stacey could make it but it was still something.

The pop star didn’t see that coming and she had to admit it was a nice surprise to have a small reunion with some of her best friends after being far from home for so long, but despite their presence in her apartment and the scare they gave her screaming “surprise” when she opened the door, the first thing she did was to go hug Chloe, who met her halfway. The two girls hugged for a long time whispering how much they missed each other and how happy they were to be in the same room again. After a while Beca pulled back to look at her girlfriend, still holding her waist while Chloe had her arms wrapped around the brunette’s neck. They were looking at each other with so much love and happiness in their eyes that the room was frozen, their friends were standing there looking at them with proud expressions, and then there was Amy who was taking pictures of them, the two girls didn’t notice any of it, they were too busy staring at each other’s lips licking or biting their owns, until Chloe made the smallest move towards Beca, knowing that the girl didn’t like pda she was being very careful to any sign that the brunette made to understand if she was okay with kissing in front of their friends, even if she really wanted to. While Chloe was worrying about that Beca crashed their lips together and the two girls shared a passionate kiss that ended only because the ‘woop’s and wolf whistles coming from Amy and Stacey were starting to piss Beca off.

Only when she was satisfied with how she greeted Chloe, Beca went to say hi to her other ‘guests’. They spent the evening drinking and chatting, but even if they were socializing with their friends Beca and Chloe were never far for too long, they would lean over the other to pour a drink or brushed their hands on the other’s back passing her while moving around the living room or less subtlety going to sit on each other laps every time one of them was chatting on the couch. At dinner time they decided to order Chinese food and eat it sitting in circle on the living room floor like they used to do in Barden (even if Beca’s dining table was more than big enough for all of them). This time Chloe was sitting between Beca’s opened legs and the brunette was leaning towards not to be cut out of the conversation. It wasn’t the best position to eat, but the two girls needed to be as close as possible. After she finished eating Beca wrapped her arms around Chloe and leaned her forehead on the taller girl’s shoulder yawning “girls, I think this is our clue” stated Flo starting to collect the food boxes off the pavement “oh no leave it, I can take care of that" said Chloe starting to move “nonsense” stopped her Stacey helping Flo “I’m not throwing you out guys, I’m just-“ another yawn cut her off “just very tired” she added rubbing her eyes “don’t worry shawshank” said Amy suspiciously gently “we know you can’t wait to have us out of the way” she added with a wink and a way exaggerated bite of her lip that made Chloe laugh “I think I’m gonna take her to bed tonight, but there will be no funny business involved this time" she said still laughing and Beca just hummed, too tired to form words.

As soon as the girls left, Beca and Chloe were laying in bed curled up together. “I’m sorry there’s no funny business… I really want it to be but I am literally dying” apologised Beca snuggling closer to the warm body beside her “hey, it’s totes fine. I’m happy to just be able to hold you right now, I don’t need anything more than this" assured her Chloe before kissing her forehead.

The next morning Beca woke up much earlier than Chloe, due to the jetlag and decided to wake her beautiful girlfriend up by going down on her. Chloe appreciated it so much that they stayed in bed until noon having the best sex Beca ever had. They were about to get up when both of their phones buzzed, it was the group chat. Amy had sent a bunch of photos of them hugging and kissing writing ‘BOOM’ under the last one

Oh come on Amyyyy! Now I have to worry about paparazzi even in my home? WTF ( -> Bellas💕)

Beca was nervous. They had just finished lunch and she decided it was a good time to ask Chloe to move in with her. She tried to dry her sweaty palms on her jeans before hugging her from behind while she was washing the dishes “stop this" she told her placing a soft kiss under her left ear “I’m gonna finish it later, you don’t have to do it all" she added letting the tip of her nose brush on the shell of that same ear “okay" shivered Chloe drying her hands before turning to hug her and kiss her slowly “so, I was thinking…” started Beca biting her lip nervously “I know this might sound crazy but… why don’t you move in with me? You’ve been basically living here already and I know you love this place! Maybe this is soon but… we didn’t really follow the rules since the beginning so… why start now?” “yes" “I mean we’ve lived together already and it only made me fall harder for you if anything, I know all your habits and I learned to live with them and you did the same with mine and-“ “Beca. I said yes” repeated Chloe with a wide smile “yes?” echoed Beca excited “yes” whispered again the redhead.

They were lying on the couch and Beca was staring at one of the pics Amy sent them, the one that captured the moment right before their kiss, it was the quintessence of happiness “can I post this on my Instagram?” she asked turning the screen to let Chloe see it “I would love that" answered the redhead with a wide smile “is this about what that girl told you in Spain?” “Mhm” nodded the brunette “and this would make those stupid paparazzi stories stop” she added and then stopped to think “but it would put YOU on their radar… are you sure? Do you really want to live in this fucking fishbowl with me?” “baby, I want to live with you I don’t care about the paparazzi” she assured her and Beca kissed her before posting the photo with the caption ‘finally back into her arms 😍’.

#Fun fact: False God is my least favourite song in Lover #bechloe #Bechloe + Taylor Swift #Bechloe one shot #Bechloe oneshot #pitch perfect au

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kalluun-patangaroa · 5 years ago

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Suede

SKY magazine, December 1993

written by Simon Witter

"HELLO! WHAT HAVE WE GOT HERE?!" asks Brett Anderson rhetorically, staring at the fluff he has just removed from his ear. "I haven't taken these earrings off for about nine years."

It may seem an incongruous moment to ask the 27-year-old indie pin-up about his personal style, but hey, that's the kind of guy I am. "Tatty," replies Brett with a wry smile. "I haven't been able to get out and go shopping."

Brett Anderson, frontman of Suede – the British pop sensation of 93 – is hotly rumoured to have a great dress sense. Today however, perched uncomfortably behind an executive desk at the central London HQ of his record company, his head inadvertently framed by a halo of Right Said Fred promotional balloons, he is sporting a navy blue jeans'n'top ensemble he accurately describes as "just anything". Brett has been telling me how he spends most of his time with people who work in shops or are unemployed – "real people, not in the business" – so I presume this boutique bonding provides a clue to his supposed, though temporarily non-evident, style savvy.

"Oh no," he gasps. "Not clothes shops! Most of my friends are in food shops. So I know a good bit of brie when I see it."

The thought of Brett Anderson having, at any point in his life, ever eaten food, conjures images of pigs flapping their trotters as they sail past this second floor window. But we press on with the personal style enquiry.

"I want to change it at the moment," he says. "I'm sick of wearing second-hand things. I used to have a grudge against new clothes because I don't like wearing things that another thousand people are wearing. It's nothing to do with being into clothes from years ago, or tatty clothes at all. I'm quite keen to toy around with my style until I eventually find something, to have clothes made for me. There's never anything, when I go out and look for clothes, that I really love. I've got quite a strong vision of what I want, which would be very, very well fitted things. I don't like baggy things. I like lots of ethnic looks. I really like the Spanish look, that sort of matador thing." By way of explanation, Brett strikes a pose, clicking imaginary castanets above his head. "I like that shape. Prince wears a really brilliant little thing sometimes. When I kept getting my bellybutton out, it was really a desire to achieve that shape more than anything, nothing to do with flaunting my navel."

It's well worth flashing your bellybutton while you still can, I assure him, a rueful hand on my own expanding waistline.

"Yep," he smiles. "Well I can't anymore. Not after that chinese last night."

In May of 1992 Suede released their first single, 'The Drowners'. They had already been on the cover of Melody Maker – before they had a record out – and would grace 18 other British magazine covers over the next year, including the cover of Q on just their second single. Their eponymous debut album, released last March, went straight to No. One in the charts and went on to win the Mercury Prize, and last autumn they released a full-length concert video Love & Poison. At this rate, it will be time for their memoirs by easter.

Within the bizarre, incestuous fishbowl of the British music media, Suede have become almost self-damagingly important. After a couple of wilderness years spent faffing about, finding their feet and being universally loathed, their overnight transformation into the most hyped band in the world was nothing short of miraculous. Yet it created impossibly high expectations of their music. A German friend told me how surprised he was, after long distance exposure to their media glare, to discover how average Suede sounded – a judgment that casual discovery of the first album would hardly have elicited. And while touring America, their support act the Cranberries famously outshone them by an enormous factor when it came to album sales. Yet phase one of Suede's career has been – or appeared to be – so extraordinary, that they are going to be hard-pressed to follow it up with anything similarly momentous.

For now, we have 'Stay Together', a new, epically long single. As a measure of Suede's magnitude in the reality-starved world of British indie pop, I am treated to an absurd preview of the track the day before meeting Brett. Before entering the listening room I am subjected to a bag search to check – I kid you not! – that I'm not carrying a concealed tape recorder.

In LA, the world capital of muso control freakism, I was played U2's Desire, the immediate-follow up to their 15-million selling Joshua Tree album, eons before its release without anyone thinking twice. Yet now, without a hint of humour or irony, I am being treated as if I not only know anyone who cares what the next Suede single sounds like, but would be willing to pay for a tape of it recorded through a leather bag.

After regaining consciousness, I join in the fiasco, insist on a full body search (well, at less reputable establishments you'd have to pay good money for this touchy-feely experience) and am seated. The label boss places two speakers on each side of my head, facing my ears from about 20" away, turns it up LOUD, and begins to do that embarrassing, pseudo appreciative in-chair grooving that only people who work in record companies and recording studios have the gall to indulge in. "It's not pompous," he assures me, "even though it's eight minutes long."

Of course any pop song – as opposed to dance record – that lasts eight minutes is by definition pompous. 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was gloriously, defiantly pompous with a side order of pomposity to go. But, despite the circumstances, 'Stay Together' sounds like a fine, many-hued song, liberally doused with Bernard Butler's life-saving guitar, that is destined neither to win many new fans nor shock the devotees.

"It's about a sense of unrest I feel about the world," Brett tells me the following day, in an ill-advised shot at an explanation. "An attempt to make some sense when everything seems to be going slightly insane. I do get a real sense of impending doom, but not in a depressing way, not like we're all gonna die, let's go and rape people. I feel quite content with it. We're living under some shadow, and I'm not quite sure what it is. It's a bit like the fears I felt when I was growing up, when things were unstable and there was the threat of nuclear war, or the fear that your parents could die of aerosol poisoning."

Brett grew up, together with Suede drummer Mat Osman, in the soulless satellite town of Haywards Heath, between London and Brighton. According to Osman, if they'd been the tea party fops people make them out to be, they would've formed a grunge band. They only wanted to be really glamorous because of their stultifyingly dull working class backgrounds. Some might say that that would lead to the three-Es-a-night, dance-and-forget syndrome, rather than the formation of a glam rock band.

"Hopefully we're not a glam rock band," Brett shudders defensively. "You can escape those surroundings by taking a load of Es and ignoring it. Another way is to create your own myth, to try and become romantic in your own eyes, to create something beautiful out of the rubbish and the shit. It all sounds very Oscar Wilde, but that's the way we did it. None of us were brought up in workhouses, but we haven't had easy lives at all."

Suede claim to be obsessed with fame because they were excluded from it. Yet surely fame is the one classless thing people aren't born into?

"Lots of people are constantly privileged," says Brett, who has clearly spent an unhealthy amount of time pondering the abstract qualities of fame. "If you're born in Soho to rich professional parents, and you've got Jonathan Wotsisname coming round to your house every night to see your father, then you've got this world that you slip easily into. When you're excluded from it there's a desperation, you're desperate to have it. It doesn't come as second nature to you, like professionally famous people who hang out in Beverly Hills. It's not something you're comfortable with, but that mutates it into something far more interesting, a bit prickly and far more creative, because you're not just sitting there lapping it up."

Suede's appearance coincided not unfortunately with the post-Madchester 70s revival. But was their styling something more than just the result of being unable to afford new clothes? Personally, I had thought the emergence of Gary Numan had killed off the idea of anyone ever again wanting to be David Bowie (not to mention Bowie's recent records). Then along came Suede, with their rough guitars, their androgyny and their theatrical singer.

"I never thought of ourselves as '70s," Brett insists. "David Bowie is a genius, but the rest of all that rubbish I always found laughable. As for the clothes, I always thought we looked more 60s than 70s. It's all tied up with this whole kitsch thing, this Magpie and Porridge and rediscovering the culture of British music journalists' youths. Kids of 14 didn't know what anyone was talking about, it was just that the people in power had reached a certain age where they were getting sentimental about their youth and started remembering Magpie. That's all it was, all a complete load of rubbish. As soon as we were aware that this scene was going on, we wanted nothing to do with it."

Brett's voice is a highly variable instrument, perfect and beautiful on slow numbers like 'The Next Life', but occasionally, when he affects that archly operatic Bowie yodel, a whiney, sneering sound like Rik Mayall on speed boring into your brain – absolutely maddening. It goes without saying that his delivery owes much to the most overrated British pop star of the last decade, Morrissey.

"I forced my voice in that way because of how we were born, musically, playing shitholes. It was the only way I could make myself heard. I didn't want to sing in the murmuring way that was the style of the time. I wanted to project my voice, because I was writing songs that I wanted people to hear the words of. I wasn't just writing about fluffy little clouds, which is what everyone was doing at the time. People read into my intonations a theatrical seventiesness, but it was a complete accident."

Overworked as the subject is, it's hard to avoid asking why Brett thinks his androgyny caused such a fuss. It's not the first time it has been done; it's not even the tenth time. Genderless, mincing fops are to classic British pop what hairspray is to American rock, a staple ingredient. Brett, by comparison to most, is pretty tame.

"I don't know," he sighs. "We certainly weren't thinking 'oh let's be androgynous', it's just the way we are. I'm naturally quite an effeminate person – not all the time, I do play on things. I think it was because, at the time, people were so incredibly boring. We had been through five years of the cult of non-personality, and we never wanted to go with the flow. When everyone had their heads down, chugging away, we wanted to twist things a little bit. It's like at school, when you find that something annoys someone, you keep on doing it more and more. And that's what happened really."

A female psychologist wrote recently about the overt sexual expression of pre-pubertal girls at pop concerts, the way in which, amidst the non-contact hysteria of the pop experience, they could sometimes experience their first orgasm. She was, admittedly, talking about a Take That show, but I can't help wondering if it looks like that from the stage to Brett Anderson?

"No, nothing like that," he purrs, "nothing sexual. I always feel like people are putting it on."

Having their first fake orgasm?

"It's a bizarre thing in my head. I know they really like me, but I can't really take it seriously. When I'm onstage, and it's working, I feel like I can do absolutely anything. I feel as though there's no limit, even in the sense that I could fall asleep if I felt like it, because I'm that relaxed. I feel much more comfortable on stage than walking down the street. I could go off into a corner and do a crossword or shave my head. I feel ridiculously relaxed. I really enjoy the power of being onstage. It's to do with the circuit of the flow between the audience and you, when it's an audience willing you to be good. Your own power is an expression of how the audience is feeling, but I can't say I ever feel sexual, even if it looks that way. I think that to call the power purely sexual is to belittle it. When I've been to incredible gigs, it hasn't been a sexual thing, it has been something far more magical than that. "

Brett and Osman came to London in the mid 80s to study, respectively, architecture and politics at UCL and LSE. Suede began after they placed an ad in the NME in 1989, but initial concerts had audiences shouting "Fuck off!", critics calling them effete wankers and record companies running for the hills - a three-pronged invitation to eat shit and die that would have spelt the end for most bands.

"That X factor that made people despise us," muses Brett, "was something we managed to turn around in our favour. It's like being in love with someone, and exactly the same things you adore about them, completely horrify you when you've fallen out of love. We went away and learnt how to write songs, and came back transformed. And those qualities that originally pissed people off, we transformed into something provocative. I think the fact that we went through all that rubbish was a fucking good thing for us. People forget that the Beatles spent five years in Hamburg. No one would touch them in England, cos everyone thought they were an utter load of shit. They spent five years getting it together, suffering a bit and fighting for it."

A typical lyric from those hard years was Brett's line about "shitting paracetomol on the escalator". When they were recently described as chemically saturated, I had assumed more interesting chemicals were involved.

"That's about pure mundanity, being off your face every night and your staple diet coming from your bathroom cabinet. It's a metaphor for a humdrum life, going up and down the London underground, which I spent five years of my life doing."

In many ways this – Suede's poignant soundtracking of new depression Britain – is their strength. But if they are Her Majesty's equivalent of slackers, it hasn't made America any more amenable to their cause. Indeed, despite Brett's avowed loathing of the British character – "negativity, small-mindedness, lack of faith" – there may well be a Britishness about Suede which prevents America from getting the point.

Brett makes the mistake of quoting a Smiths song to me – something about innocence, fragility and trust – forcing me to point out that American audiences don't want to be trusted with something precious, they want to rock out with their cocks out. Evan Dando may wear a dress and pigtails, but the wider American market is notoriously unkeen on sexual ambiguity. Queen were big in America until the early 80s, when Freddie Mercury started appearing in full clone gear. They never toured America again, and didn't have a single hit until after his death (and then only thanks to Wayne's World). In fact, America's association of guitars and manliness make Suede fundamentally unsuited.

"No!" storms Brett. "I don't think we're fundamentally unmanly. All you have to do is come and watch us live. We're about sexuality, power and emotion, things that everybody feels."

Whether or not America is destined to fall for his Morrissey-meets-Larry Grayson stage persona, Brett's much-aired desire to move to America (and less well-known plan to live in Paris) has, for now, been replaced by a much smaller act of bedouinism.

"I've moved from Notting Hill to Highgate," he announces proudly, "from a fashionable place to a place where you're living in the last century pretty much. I was living in a very small flat in Notting Hill and it was driving me insane, I couldn't write and was being bombarded with nonsense all day long. I needed the peace and quiet, and now I have a bigger flat with a studio room in it and I'm writing quite prolifically. It's more serene, there's more space to think. It's quite a beautiful place, but you do feel like you're living in the last century, like you're some sort of oddity, or in a play. You keep going into these odd characters. But it's a great place."

In person, and despite the affectation of much of his thought processes, Brett Anderson is quite charming. An endearing smile – which seems to hibernate when cameras are around – plays constantly around his face, suggesting shared confidences which, to some extent, he delivers. Like so many people cocooned by over-protective minions, he is refreshingly open and approachable. I like him. But he is deeply shocked and incredulous when I paint a picture of the special treatment afforded him by those he works with.

"They treat me with the respect I deserve," he jokes defensively. "I don't have tea with Lenny Kravitz. My best friend works in a chip shop, and that's why I like it, it's a complete escape. One of the beautiful things about being successful is that it can rub off onto your friends as well. Not fame and all that bullshit – the really brilliant thing about being successful is the self-confidence, the sense of life having a purpose, that life is a wonderful thing. You open the shutters in the morning and the sunshine pours through. That sense of vitality about life can completely rub off on your friends. Sometimes it doesn't, it can go the other way, with friends ignoring you cos they think you don't have time for them, but that never happens with your proper friends."

And yet, engulfed in the sweltering perversity of his peer group, Brett has come to hold some pretty crap views, views that seem utterly irrelevant beyond the borders of saddo indie land. He worries about being thought a sell-out, thinks Suede are radically honest because they admit to having ambition – as if people didn't get over all that bollocks a decade ago – and, worst of all, that people don't talk enough about music in interviews. Oh dear!

But, despite all this, Brett's public image remains unshatterably cool. He exudes waves of sultry, sulky hipness. I feel an urge to know what naff items lurk in the corners of Chateau Anderson, his ownership of which will shock Suede devotees to the core. Brett tells me he's been to see Aladdin, listens to jazz music, likes The Orb and Verve and has just bought the new Shamen single. To prove it, he even does his Mr C impression - "Comin' on like a vibe, y'know!". This won't do at all.

"I like Terence Trent D'Arby," he admits, trying harder. "I think he's really good."

It's good, but it's not right.

"I bought Billy Joel's River Of Dreams album. I like that one."

Aha – as Inspector Clouseau used to say – now we are getting somewhere! What about films?

"No, I've got impeccable taste when it comes to films."

No feature length On The Buses video stashed chez Brett?

"No. I have got Crocodile Dundee."

Bingo and Bullseye! So much for impeccable taste.

"Well, my perennial favourite is Performance," he flusters wildly. "I can virtually quote the whole film from start to finish. And there's a brilliant film which I've just discovered called The Shout, with John Hurt, Alan Bates and Susanna York. It's about a man who has spent years in the Australian bush learning the secrets of the bush doctors coming to this ridiculously reserved Cornish village and turning two people's lives upside down. It's like an animal alive within this village, and when he shouts, everyone within a mile radius dies. If Alan Bates' part had been played by Vincent Price, it would've been laughable, but it's incredibly powerful, one of those great lost films."

It's a nice try, but nothing can erase the impression created by Billy Joel and Crocodile Dundee.

#suede #brett anderson #press #interview #sky #1993

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winnipegpatty · 6 years ago

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like what you’re doing to me | four | s.m. series

a/n: please send me feedback!! It’s really helpful for me in knowing what you guys are liking and what you aren’t!

Los Angeles came sooner than Shawn could have ever hoped with the last of the Europe shows flying by in a flurry. Like predicted, the first few days were packed full of studio sessions and marketing meetings getting every last detail of the song ready for release. Shawn was so proud of the content he was getting ready to release, he really couldn’t wait to see what people would say. After releasing In My Blood and becoming completely honest with his fanbase, he’d realized he had a larger support system than he’d ever imagined. Not in the sense of he had more fans than he ever imagined because he always knew the breadth of his fanbase. It was more in the sense that he hadn’t realized how strongly they would accept his unbridled confessions. When he’d become aware though, of the overwhelming amount of people who’d continue to support him despite struggling with such human emotions, he was invigorated to only push further into those emotions. And he had with this new single, he’d tapped into feelings he hadn’t even know he’d had. But the end product was something Shawn could be completely proud of.

Shawn had been so incredibly busy, he hadn’t even had time to contact Karli until three days into his week and a half or so of break. They’d agreed, back in Manchester, on a date in LA, but Shawn had to come up with a plan before he talked to Karli about it. He wanted to make sure he thought this through and gave her his absolute best. She deserves nothing less. So with studio sessions finally behind him, Shawn set off to plan the perfect first date for the most perfect girl he’d ever met.

Shawn: So, I know I said dinner, but how does a picnic sound?

Karli: I’d say I’m intrigued.

Shawn: Pick you up on Friday at 5?

Karli: Can’t wait to see you :)

___

Shawn picked Karli up right on time. He’d rented a Jeep similar to his at home for the two weeks in LA and he was enjoying the wind blowing through his curls as the sun was dropping lower and lower by the minute.

“Where are we going?” Karli asked about twenty minutes into the drive, noticing how they were heading out of town and towards the coast.

“The beach,” Shawn said simply.

Karli smiled, leaning back in her chair, sliding her hand out the window and feeling it pull her hand back, wind trailing through her fingers. Shawn’s phone was plugged in, listening to music playing through his spotify account, and Karli was content just enjoying his presence and some good music. Karli knew from experience that during this time of the day it would take at least an hour to reach the beach, if not an hour and a half. She didn’t mind the long drives though. Karli sang along to the end of a Julia Michaels song as Shawn’s spotify transitioned into something familiar. It hit Karli instantly, smiling smugly, but she waited a moment to see if Shawn would react. He must not have been completely tuned into the music because he didn’t react until Karli’s voice sang through the speakers, and Shawn’s eyes instantly went wide. He reached towards the phone, presumably to skip the song, as if Karli hadn’t known exactly what it was the moment it started playing.

She laughed, looking at Shawn, “You’re really gonna change it now?”

Shawn blushed, pulling his hand away from the phone, “I, uh, no?” He questioned. “It’s weird…”

“Which part? The part where you clearly went out of your way to download the song because it’s not even on spotify or the part where you tried to skip the song as if I hadn’t already noticed it was my song the second it was on?” Karli smirked, looking at Shawn.

Shawn’s blushed deepened, spreading to his neck, “Both?”

Karli laughed lightly, “Shawn, it’s not weird. It means you liked the song, which is…” She searched for the perfect word. “Cool,” She finally settled.

“It’s embarrassing.” Shawn admitted, scratching his neck.

Karli shook her head from the passenger seat, “What? You don’t think I’ve never listened to your music either? Shawn, we’re musicians… we listen to other people’s music. It’s normal.”

“Yeah, but I went out of my way to listen to this song. My songs are way easier to access.” It wasn’t meant as an insult or anything, it was simply the truth.

Karli, trying to calm his clearly anxious thoughts, laid a hand on his thigh, looking intently at him even as he stared at the road. “Shawn, it is really amazing to me that you like my music. It makes me happy. Even just knowing you watch my Youtube videos is special to me. I don’t think it’s weird at all, and I’m flattered. The fact that you, and tons of other people, had such a strong positive reaction to my first original song means the world to me. It was something special and I was so nervous to put it out into the world. I’m sure when you first heard people listening to your music, it was surreal. But it was still probably a good feeling, right?”

Shawn glanced over at Karli for a moment before answering, “Yeah...it was...everything I’d ever dreamed of.”

“Exactly.” Karli said confidently, leaning back into her chair, removing her hand from Shawn’s thigh. “So it’s not weird. It’s sweet.”

Shawn pulled up to the upper parking lot of Point Dume State Beach. The view was breathtaking and the water was the deepest blue Karli had ever seen. Shawn led them down a path towards the sandy beach, basket and blanket in hand.

“I came here with Niall and a big group of friends sometime last year,” Shawn said as he laid the blanket on the sand. “It’s so beautiful, but most people don’t even know about it since it’s so hidden.”

“An ideal place for a famous people hang out,” Karli laughed.

“Something like that.” Shawn smiled.

Karli was the first to sit down on the blanket, Shawn taking a spot next to her. He leaned back, his arms supporting himself from behind, and together they just looked out at the beach for a moment.

“You know, sometimes it’s really hard to get away.”

Karli hummed, glancing at Shawn, “You ever wish it were different?”

He bit his lip for a moment, contemplating his answer. The truth was, millions of people dreamed of having what he had. But living it was different than dreaming it. “I wish, what were different,” Shawn started, “were people’s expectations of me.”

“In what way?” She wondered.

“Like this for instance,” Shawn gestured between the two of them, “There’s a unspoken sense of entitlement that people have in regards to my personal life. I’m sure you even experience to that to some degree. But they think just because you’ve put yourself in the public eye or released a couple of videos or have tons of Instagram followers, that they now have claim to your entire life.They’d never admit it out loud, but they feel entitled to every part of you, even if you never had any intention of giving that part of you away.”

Karli simply nodded her head in understanding, allowing Shawn to continue his own thought process.

“It’s not that I want to hide things, or be as secretive as possible. I just want to feel like I have a life. Being constantly on camera, people shouting your name, it’s a lot. It makes me constantly anxious. There’s no end. Like, if you think about when you were a kid and your mom would continually nag you to do a chore. And you’d get so tired of her saying your name? It’s like that, but it’s my whole life. There’s no silence. There’s always someone wanting a photo or to say hi. And I love them all, I really do. And I appreciate their support. But sometimes you just need silence.”

Karli nodded, “I’m sorry that it’s like that because it shouldn’t be. I’m sorry that you can’t just put out music and perform and that be all it’s about.”

“It comes with the territory, but I just wish it were a little...less.”

“Well, anytime you’re in LA you can always come to my house. I can lock you in a room so you can have some silence.”

Shawn threw his head back in a burst of laughter, “It’s sad that would actually appeal to me.”

“No phones, no music, no fans or managers. Just you, in a room. I’ll give you a tv and some books to read,” Karli smiled.

Shawn looked at her, smiling from ear to ear, “One day, you’re going to completely understand everything I just said.”

Karli looked at her lap, blush creeping up her pale skin, “You think that’s all going to happen for me, eh?”

“Oh, I know it. Karli King you are going to take the music industry my storm one day soon.”

“That’s the dream.” She whispered.

“Just don’t let it carry you away.”

Together, they enjoyed a lovely picnic dinner. They talked about everything imaginable, and Shawn couldn’t remember the last person he’d felt so free to talk to. There was something special about Karli. She was smart and confident and held so much depth as a person. She intrigued Shawn in all the best possible ways, and he just wanted more of her.

“So when do you leave?” Karli asked him sometime later in the evening.

The sun had set, and they’d toed off their shoes some time ago. They were standing the shallow bits of water, enjoying the water rushing over their feet as their toes sunk deeper into the sand.

“I have another full week, and then I’m off to the races, touring the rest of North America.”

Karli hummed, “And when you’re LA concert?”

“I have two.” Shawn reached for her hand, and swung it between them, looking at their linked fingers instead of Karli. “Friday and Saturday, and then I’ll leave on Tuesday.”

Karli nodded, squeezing his hand.

“You gonna come?”

She smiled up at Shawn, “If you don’t mind me crashing in.”

Shawn’s eyes gleamed with happiness, “I would never. I want to see you as much as I can before I leave.”

Karli toed her way to Shawn until they were face to face, toes bumping each other under the water. “I would like that.”

With his free hand, Shawn reached up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand rested on her cheeking, guiding her eyes to look at him. “In that case,” he whispered, his words meant just for her. “Would you want to go to breakfast with me Tuesday morning before I have to leave?”

Karli nodded before whispering a “yeah” in response.

They stayed like that, toes pressed into the sand, fingers tangled together, and water washing ashore, just enjoying the quiet around them and the sound of the lapping waves.

___

Karli and Shawn weren’t exactly being careful about the time they were spending together, and fans were certainly starting to notice. But every comment or tweet that insinuated that they were anything more than friends went unanswered.

Sure, perfectly timed trips to Manchester was suspect. And aesthetic shots of the beach posted on the same day were conspicuous. And attending three of Shawn’s concerts wasn’t exactly subtle. But they really didn’t care. Shawn didn’t feel the need to hide, and it’s not like they were officially together or anything. Right now they really were just friends who were getting to know each other and were most likely headed towards a relationship (at least if Shawn had something to say about it). He’d never lie to his fans, but that didn’t mean he’d always give them the facts.

On Tuesday morning bright and early, Shawn and Karli met at a local cafe near Shawn’s hotel. They ate and talked and shared soft touches under the table. It was everything a movie romance could possibly be. The only downer was that in less than an hour, Shawn would be leaving and would be busy for months with little to no break.

But Shawn had one thing he needed to do before he left.

“Karli,” Shawn asked after they’d finished their food and were just finishing their coffees.

“Yeah?” She asked, putting down her cup.

“I know this is like new,” Shawn motioned with his hands between the two of them, “but I really like you. And, I know it’s a lot to ask of someone, considering the lifestyle I live, but I would really like to be able to call you my girlfriend.” Shawn’s cheeks were the deepest red Karli had ever seen them. He was extremely flustered, but it was so adorable. “I don’t mean like, let’s tell the whole world we’re dating. I’m not ready for something like that,” Shawn eyed her for a moment, gauging her reaction. “But, I really feel like this is going somewhere, and I can’t leave on tour without asking.”

Karli smiled, “I really thought you were never going to ask.”

tagging: @peacedolantwins2 @rosecth @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @justanotherfangurl272 @yourwonderbelle @loveydoveyshawn @outlandishnerd @amandash113 @my-sweet-escape-from-the-world @fourtristattoos @lostinroses @ilsolee

#shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #imagine #fic #fanfic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes writing #my writing #mine #writing

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idreamofwolves · 6 years ago

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Beyond Redemption

Summary: Bam’s younger sister has a crush on her brother’s best friend Ville Valo. Little does she know, Ville has had his eye on he for quite a while.

Pairing: Ville Valo (HIM) x OC

It had been a long day, show days always were. My brother, Bam, had flown me and a few of his friends to Finland too see his favorite band, HIM, play at some club. It seemed extreme, to travel so far for an hour show, but Bam himself was extreme. Me, on the other hand, had different reasons for agreeing to go.

Ever since the first time I’d met Ville, I’d been enamored by him. We met on the set of the Join Me in Death video shoot. It was honestly just two days of me watching this beautiful person performing in front of a camera, and doing whatever I could to avoid making eye contact with him. I had an easy time speaking with everyone else, but Ville was different territory. He was seemingly moody and so gorgeous beyond words that I couldn’t bring myself to say “hello.” But that didn’t stop him from making my heart sink like an anchor.

He’d been talking with Bam and of he asked to be introduced to me. It started with a simple “Hello darling, how are you?” And ended with me so nervous and red cheeked that I never wanted to see those earthy green eyes look my way again.

As luck would have it, it wasn’t even close to the last time I’d see him. He started coming to Pennsylvania to visit Bam, and suddenly it seemed like he was around every other month or so. He always made a point to talk to me when I was around, although I assumed he was just being kind, not wanting me to feel left out of the conversations as I often was when Bam’s friends and filming crew were around.

I’d started getting to know Ville a little better, and I found that he was just as sweet and charming as I’d secretly hoped he be. He had this wondrous, spiritual way about him, and as intimidating as that, mixed with his shyness I later discovered, was, I couldn’t back away from him. I thought about him far more often than I ever intended or wanted, I even started missing him when he was away too long. That’s when the texting began.

Ville wasn’t much of a texter, honestly he didn’t like phones much at all, but once I’d been brave enough to send the first text, it never seemed to stop. I had been sitting in my bed horribly late one night, knowing it was well into day time for him. I hadn’t seen him in a few months, and although I had no business missing him, I just did. I forced myself to rewrite the same text over and over until I was brave enough to hit send. It was even chance that we exchanged numbers in the first place, only having done so because Bam’s phone had died one day.

To my surprise, after sending “Hey Ville. It’s Ruby, how are you doing? Haven’t seen you in a while.” I got a text back. I felt like a moron the moment I sent it, but once I got a response my heart went into overdrive and I could no longer think about my own embarrassment.

“Hey Rue. Good to hear from you, doing okay. Yourself?” Rue. That was his nickname for me, only he used it and honestly it made my heart thud in my chest.

“I’m good. Bam has been missing you.” I wanted to divert the subject from me and blame my random message on something else.

“Well can you blame him? Lol” I was surprised to see him joking with me, although it made sense. We were becoming pretty good friends at that point.

The conversation somehow ended up going on and on for weeks. We talked about things as big as life and the universe and religion and went as small as what we were eating for lunch. I’d learned that he had been single for a long time and that he often got lonely living in such a large tower alone. My heart often broke for him, but he didn’t have to know that. He started calling me, sending me recordings of songs he was working on, lyrics he either liked or wanted opinions on, it was like we were always in the same room without ever seeing each other.

I never let on to Bam who I was talking to, I found it easier to lie and hide it. I knew Bam, and he never would have been okay with me talking to his best friend. Oh no, he’d let me know long ago that Ville was off limits. But rules didn’t mean much to Ville, and they started to not mean much to me either.

This continued on until Bam decided it was time to go to Finland. He bought my air fare, along with that of a few others, and we jetted off to the most gorgeous country I’d ever seen. Show days were tiresome, with Bam meeting fans and hooking up with old Finnish friends. It was a never ending social train and I was just ready for the concert.

I was feeling nervous and horribly jittery the whole day, knowing I’d get to see Ville for the first time since all of this started. It was worse that we didn’t have much time to talk yet that day, as he was busy preparing for his show.

We sat at a VIP table close to the stage, too close if you were to ask me. My stomach was in knots and I felt almost nauseous. The lights went dark and band members began emerging on stage. The moment Ville appeared in front of the mic, the crowd went insane and I thought I might cry.

The loud bass thud of Venus Doom began to play and I was filled with some kind of longing to hear him sing. My wish was granted far sooner than it felt. His deep voice rang through the building, and it was equally powerful as it was melodic. It was hard to remember that this was the same guy I’d called on my way home from work just to vent, the same guy I would send a picture of my perfectly created salad because why not? The same guy I’d heard laughing over a long distance call about nothing and challenging me about everything under the sun. On that stage he looked larger than life, he was very obviously adored by so many people, he was so beautiful, he couldn’t possibly be the same man that wasted so much time talking to me, even flirting with me at times.

By the end of that set I felt even more anxious and nervous than I had before. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do until Bam read a new text he’d just gotten out loud. “I’ll meet you at the bar when the crowd clears out.” He read to let everyone know it was time to drink. “Let go wait guys! Time to get drunk!” He laughed and his mini entourage followed.

As I sat down with them, a text case to my phone that I read discreetly. “Meet me out back in the alley.” My heart dropped and I felt overwhelmed.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to get some fresh air. I don’t feel great.” I told Bam, even though he barely paid any attention, thank goodness.

I went out the front door and circled my way around back. I almost had to tip toe through the fans who were amassed at the tour bus, waiting to get a glimpse of the man I was secretly on my way to meeting.

When I turned the corner, I saw a door swing open. Ville walked out and lit a cigarette. My hands were shaking and my nerves almost stopped me from marching forward to meet him. It didn’t take long for him to notice me coming. “Rue, sweetheart, how are you?” He asked as he hugged me. That wonderful scent of cigarettes and whatever concert venues smell like hit me hit me like a ton of bricks. It was cold out, and even being so, he only wore a long sleeve shirt and his body was warm enough for me to feel through my jacket.

“I’m great! I missed you.” I smiled, wondering if that was a weird thing to say.

“I missed you too, darling.” He smiled and gently held my hand in his. It felt as if it could have been platonic if he wanted it to be, but it didn’t feel like he wanted it to be. “I’m glad you came, it’s sort of strange seeing you all the way here in Finland. How are you liking it?”

“I haven’t gotten to see much, but what I have seen has been beautiful. I hope Bam saves some time to do some exploring.” Bam had been to Finland many times, and I knew he wasn’t as in awe as I had been. He probably hadn’t even thought of the touristy thing.

“I’ll be sure you get the grand tour.” He winked, making me blush. He was too sweet and too good to be true. I knew he had his flaws and his quirks that sent a lot of women away, but they were not things that bothered me.

“I’d like that.” I said almost too quietly. We stood too close to each other to be speaking as friends do, I could feel it, what we both wanted. It was like his lips were calling mine, and that small moment of silence between us only confirmed it.

“Kiss me.” He whispered in my ear and lingered close. I knew why he was doing this, he didn’t like making the first move. He didn’t feel right kissing someone for the first time without their verbal consent or them doing it first. We’d talked about that, and part of me expected this, but I underestimated how it would feel. I expected the butterflies and the nerves, I didn’t expect the immense amount of bravery it would take.

I took a second to think, to take in the moment, before softly placing a kiss on his lips. He then took control as he strategically put one hand on my face and the other on my back. He pulled me as close as he could and somehow it still didn’t feel close enough. As the kiss went on, it quickly became something more intense and almost desperate than what either of us had intended. I bit his lip, making him smile against my mouth. It was such a long awaited moment and even then it exceeded my wildest dream.

We parted and stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, and I couldn’t believe there was a time when I never wanted those beautiful green eyes to see me again. “I think we’ve just gotten ourselves into much more than planned. ” He said, a little exasperated.

“Yeah. I agree.” I said with a smile. I didn’t mean to feel this way, of course. I assumed this would end in us fading out and never talking unless Bam was around. After how that felt and the look in his eyes, knowing it matched mine, we were in deep and there would be hell to pay. But neither of us cared. We felt a small touch of our first blooming of love, and there was no going back, no matter what the cost.

We were beyond redemption, and it was beautiful.

#him #ville #valo #ville valo #his infernal majesty #bam margera #oc #finland #finnish bands #fanfic #fluff

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lalka-laski · 5 years ago

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1. Do you bite or lick ice cream? Both

2. What is home to you? Anywhere with my loved ones

3. What was the last lie you told? Definitely something minor, I just can’t remember it.

4. Does everyone deserve the truth? That’s a good question. I guess if an individual seeks/demands the truth then they deserve it.

5. What is the creepiest toy ever made? FUCKING FURBY

6. Describe a moment in which you did something unacceptable in a bad situation. Where do I even begin?

7. List two things that are more easily done than said. (No, I didn't mix them up.) Getting out of bed in the morning is actually much easier than I make it out to be. Yet I lay there for ages beforehand agonizing and dreading it. The same goes for working out and going to the gym. It’s all the lead-up that’s worse than the activity itself.

8. When was the last time you worked really hard to achieve something? Several months ago I was doing some intensive therapy and EMDR to detach myself from traumatic memories.

9. How many all nighters have you pulled? I’ve never counted, but not many. I love sleep too much.

10. If humans didn't evolve to laugh or smile, how would we express our happiness instead? Hand gestures maybe? Clapping? Jumping up and down?

11. How many romantic "things" or "flings" have you had? Again, I’ve never counted. I will say I’ve had far more “flings” than actual relationships though.

12. What is your paradise? Laying in bed next to my honey, a breeze from an open window chills the room but we’re cozy under the comforter. Our favorite candle is lit (Winter White Woods), and we’re silently reading our books, setting them down only to occasionally sneak a kiss. It’s my personal heaven.

13. What is your favorite background noise? (Ex. Water dripping, people talking.) Certainly NEITHER one of those, as they both drive me crazy. I like consistent white noise from a fan or AC or something.

14. How many hearts do you think you have broken? Beats me.

15. What is the most important thing about electronics? What does this say about you? I don’t understand the question

16. Why do people care about celebrities? Do you care about celebrities? Because they’re wealthier and more attractive than any average person could ever hope to be, and as a society, we prize those qualities. I also think many of us find it to fun to fantasize or live vicariously through beautiful, rich people. And to answer the second part of the question, I do care about celebrities but I try not to conceptualize them and remind myself that they’re still people.

17. What is the most annoying thing someone can do to you? Walk slowly in front of me in a store/other public place.

18. Do you overexaggerate? What are the pros and cons of this? I sure do, but I’m working on it. I can be dramatic at times... The pros of this are that situations that worry me are never as bad as I envision them to be. But alternatively, that means things I hype up in my head aren’t as great as I imagine either.

19. Have you played any instruments before? Which instruments? Well I think every child in American public schools is forced to learn the recorder at some point. After that, I played the clarinet for a few years. Then as a teenager, I took “guitar lessons” with a friend of mine but we never did much guitar playing....

20. Do you like taking selfies? Why or why not? I do! I prefer them to any other type of photo because I can control how I look in a selfie.

21. List 3 things you like about yourself? My friendliness, my empathy, my neatness/organization.

22. What is the best advice someone has ever given you? I’ve been given lots of great advice over the years. I’m just bad at thinking on the spot...

23. Do you have what it takes to raise a child? Why or why not? I feel that I do. I have a very strong maternal nature, I love babies/children and I have a lot of experience caring for them. Of course, I know *raising* a child is much different than simply feeding/changing/playing, but I believe much of that is a “learn as you go” type of deal.

24. How do you cheer yourself up after a bad day? Cleaning helps me relax and feel better about my life. I also love taking hot baths, journaling, reading, vegging out in front of the TV or enjoying a glass of wine or two.

25. When was the last time you felt awkward? The day I was born and I haven’t stopped since

26. Are you introverted or extroverted? Or a mixture of both? I’m introverted in the sense that I value quiet and solitude, and I feel most at peace when I’m alone. But I have good social skills and (I think) I’m better at interacting with other people than most self-professed introverts.

27. What constitutes a good friend? Loyalty, honesty, established trust. Similar interests and sense of humor are important too, IMO.

28. Would you rather have a lot of friends to hang out with or just one best friend? Just one best friend

29. In a regular day, what do you not want to hear? Donald Trump, or anything related to him.

30. What is your dream job? Writer

31. Is it better to be lazy but smart or hardworking but unintelligent? I like this question! There are success stories from both ends of the spectrum. The optimist in me wants to believe that hard work and grit will take you further than any natural talent will, and in many cases, this is true. However, I also believe in a “work smarter, not harder” approach. Sometimes cutting corners and accomplishing tasks in a more “lazy” way is more innovative.

32. What is a truth about yourself that others find hard to believe? I’m not an animal person at all. I think because I’m a vegetarian and because I just have a sensitive, compassionate nature, people assume I’m an animal lover. In truth, I’d like most animals to keep their distance from me.

33. What have you always wondered about the other gender? E v e r y t h i n g.

34. Which fantasy world would you like to visit the most? Wonderland

35. Describe the worst friend you have ever befriended. No thank you. Not worth the time.

36. Imagine that you have switched bodies with someone you don't know. You can't switch back. What do you do? That depends entirely on whose body I get.

37. If you found the recipe for immortality, would you sell it or would you burn it? Sell it. I’m poor.

38. What is the most important, applicable class you have ever taken? The most formative class I can remember was 10th grade Advanced English. Prior to that, I was a bookworm and always excelled at reading comprehension in school. But it wasn’t until this class that I learned to deeply and critically analyze texts. To recognize the significance of a single word. To appreciate the power of just one detail of a scene or a story. It was in this class that I realized no element of a text is insignificant. 39. Name the last book you read. Currently reading “The Favorite Daughter” by Patti Callahan Henry

40. Imagine that you are unable to express emotion. How would this affect your world? I’m an exceptionally emotional person so everything about my life would change. Everything!

41. When was the last time you made the first move? Almost never. It’s just not my style.

42. What is your opinion on electronic music such as dubstep or trap? It’s not my taste

43. What was the last movie you watched? I truly can’t remember

44. Do you like and appreciate your life? I do!

45. Do you like and appreciate yourself? Again, I do!

46. When was the last time you cried? Couple days ago

47. What are you scared of? Almost everything

48. What is the most embarrassing, cringe-worthy thing you have ever done? I’m not going there...

49. What are some of your hobbies? Reading, writing, crafting

50. What is a superficial yet annoying mistake you constantly make? I mess up pronouns in conversation a lot. If I’m talking about 2 or more people, I might mistakenly interchange their pronouns.

51. Are you a good friend? What makes you a good friend? If not, what makes you a bad friend? I like to think so. Sometimes I’m maybe more distant than I should be and I’m usually not the person to arrange plans. But still, I’m reliable and loyal and I’m always available to lend an ear.

52. Do you honestly learn from your mistakes? NOPE ha ha ha.

53. What have you learned the hard way? Most lessons

54. What is the most important thing to have in order to attain happiness? Love. Whether it’s from family, friends or a SO. I need to know I’m loved, appreciated and supported.

55. Which medium do you use for expressing your artistic emotions? (Singing, writing, etc.) I’m a writer, so the written word is my preferred and most used medium. But I like to dabble in other art forms too: painting, drawing, crafts. And I sing A LOT, which could arguable be a form of emotional expression.

56. Are you a creative or a logical thinker? Creative

57. What is the smartest thing you have ever done? Enroll in therapy

58. What is your ideal meal? Mexican or Mediterranean

59. What is the worst thing someone could do on a date? Tell me he voted for Trump or really anything of that nature.

60. Do you like animals? Which kind is your favorite? A very select few. I love rabbits, deer, goats, cats. That might be it...

61. If you could turn one legal thing illegal, what would it be? Those hidden fees when buying concert tickets online

62. Do you have any guilty pleasures? Fast food. Really any kind of cheap, junk food that’s void of any nutritional value but tastes so fucking good I can’t resist.

63. What is the best thing that the internet has ever created? Road work ahead? Uh yeah, I sure hope it does.

64. Do you like playing video games? Which video games? No, I was never into them.

65. What is your opinion on beauty in today's society? I’m very happy to see beauty ideals (slowly) expanding to be more inclusive. But we still have a long ways to go

66. Are you a morning person? When do you usually wake up? Well 3/5 days of my work week require me to be up at 5:30 am. I usually cry and cringe when my alarm goes off, and sometimes continue to cry and cringe through my entire morning routine. But I often feel better once I get to work, and I like the idea of having the whole day ahead of me. Sometimes it’s nice being awake before most of the world.

67. Do you have a favorite Disney movie? Character? Anyone who knows me knows I’m all about Sleeping Beauty/Princess Aurora. I actually love all Princess movies. Oh, and Toy Story. I live for Toy Story.

68. Would you rather live in the city or in the countryside? The city, I like the convenience of walking anywhere I need to go and/or using public transport. As a non-driver, it’s pretty crucial for me.

69. Would you rather live near the ocean or in the mountains? The ocean, I suppose. Though neither of those options really speak to me.

70. What are the best things about winter? COZINESS. I’m talking fireplaces, fuzzy slippers, cozy jammies, lots and lots of blankets!

71. What scares you most about the future? The uncertainty of it.

72. What makes you feel old? Modern slang. I have no idea what “kids these days” are saying, and I feel like such a loser when I try to use trendy lingo in conversation.

73. How many hours do you spend on the computer or phone on average? Majority of my day

74. What are some of your New Year's resolutions? I don’t make them

75. What is your life story in 6 words? Making it up as I go.

76. Describe yourself in one word. Emotional

77. What bad habits do you do? Worrying, over-thinking, obsessing

78. What genre of music do you listen to? A variety. But most of my favorites could be categorized somewhere in the realm of rock/alternative/pop rock/soft rock.

79. Most prominent childhood memory? My earliest memory was the birth of my sister, one day before my third birthday. And I would say it’s one of, if not the most, important memory of mine, considering her significance in my life and the bond we share.

80. Imagine if you had an older brother. If you already have one, what is it like? If you don't, how would this change your life? I only have sisters, so my life would be VASTLY different if I had a brother. I learned a great deal from my older sister, none of which would’ve been possible if she were a boy.

81. Spirit animal? Deer

82. Do you believe in horoscopes? To an extent. I think they’re entertaining more than anything, and I do believe they can be used as a tool for self-reflection, goal setting, inspiration etc.

83. What is the worst advice you've ever been given? Hmm...

84. List the 3 most important people in your life right now. I’m gonna say “my babies:” Hannah, Aubrie and Samantha.

85. Favorite memory of your family. Oh there are too many to list! It’s never a dull moment when we’re together...

86. What do you look for in a relationship? Passion

87. Do you have a role model? Why or why not? Several

88. What is your opinion on social media? I’m a fan, but I try to limit my usage or at least be mindful of what I’m consuming.

89. Are you a pessimist or an optimist? Realist?

90. List some things that you think are overpriced? Medications of all kinds, feminine products or anything marketed specifically to women, vegetarian foods...

91. What is your worst memory or creepiest experience? I don’t wanna go there

92. What superpower would ruin the world? Mind-reading would cause a lot of issues I’m sure.

93. What is something you swore you would never do when you grew up, but you did anyway? I can’t really think of anything

95. If you could travel anywhere, where would you go? Poland or Iceland

96. How do you approach people? That depends on the situation and environment but usually with a “hello” and a smile.

97. What is your opinion on first impressions? I don’t believe they’re always correct. We all have off days.

98. What are some things you did as a child that you no longer do? I did a lot more outdoor activities as a kid than I do now.

99. What languages can you speak? English, a little Polish.

100. What do you think society will be like in 30 years? I’d like to say I can’t imagine it much worse than it is now but I’m not gonna tempt fate

101. What do you do on your lazy days? Sleep late, stay in bed most of the day, sloth around.

102. What ended your last relationship? He ended it, although I should have. We had too many differences that made a healthy relationship nearly impossible. And he was emotionally abusive, insulting and manipulative.

103. Favorite food? Mexican or Mediterranean. I feel like I already answered this, no?

104. What is the most terrifying dream you've ever had? .....

105. When was the last time you got seriously angry? I don’t get angry often. I get sad and upset, but not necessarily mad.

106. What was the last friendship you broke? I can’t recall

107. Do you have any pet peeves? Several

108. Who was the last person you gave a hug to? A client this morning

109. When was the last time you got seriously stressed? I’m easily stressed so, every day.

110. What part of your personality do you want to change? My anxiety

111. Who is the most positively influential person in your life right now? My friends and boyfriend are all equally influential

112. What is your biggest motivation? Making my family proud

113. What did you want to be when you were little? An author/illustrator

114. What are some things that you are good at? Writing

115. What is one thing you want to be good at? Singing. I’m not bad, but I’d like to be *good*

116. What distracts you the most, especially when you're trying to work? THESE

117. How important is privacy to you? Quite important. Nothing bothers me more than invasive, prying people.

118. If you could create one social norm, what would it be? Kindness

119. What's the craziest lie you've ever told? Uh... probably some ridiculous story I made up while drunk

120. What story do you like to tell about yourself at parties? I don’t have a “go-to”

122. What is the stupidest thing you've done to impress someone? Nothing comes to mind

123. What is your morning routine? It depends on the day. Ideally, I get up and have a nice cup of tea and ease into my day. But more often than not, I hit snooze a hundred times and then end up rushing out the door with my hair unbrushed and my shoes barely on.

124. What's the last thing you did that is worth remembering? It’s all worth remembering

125. If karma was coming back to you, would it help or hurt you? Help. I think...

126. What is your opinion on playing "hard to get?" It’s not my game

127. What are the pros and cons of straightforward? Honesty is great, but sometimes it can mean hurt feelings. But it’s possible to be truthful while still polite.

128. What do you consider "leading" someone on? Making plans with no follow-through, flirting with no actual intentions of taking things further (with the knowledge that the other party *would* like that). I don’t know though, I think often men accuse women of “leading them on” when they’re really not.

129. Are you the friendzoner or the friendzoned? I don’t believe in the friend zone

130. What do you admire most about your friends? Their loyalty to me and refusal to give up on me

131. What do you admire most about your family? See above

132. What is your opinion on "going with the flow?" It’s not my forte

133. Do you enjoy talking or listening? A healthy combination of both

134. When is it time to end a friendship? When it’s no longer serving you or providing anything positive to your life

135. What is the worst excuse you've ever come up with? I’d have to think about that

136. If GPA didn't matter, what courses would you have taken? I’m pleased with all the course I took

137. What are your favorite baby names? Aurora Michelle for a girl. Levi Joseph for a boy.

138. When was the last time you had a deep conversation with someone? Yesterday

139. What instantly ruins a conversation? An uninterested participant, someone who only talks but refuses to listen

140. Biggest turn ons and turn on offs. I feel I’ve already answered this

141. Biggest disappointment. Uh

142. Do you have any self-restraint? Hardly

143. When did you last do something outside of your comfort zone? Moved into an apartment

144. Prized possession(s)? My claddagh, a bracelet from Nora, my journal collection, many photographs

145. What is your opinion on second chances? We all deserve them

146. Text or call? TEXT TEXT TEXT

147. What do you like about the 21st century? The internet is pretty great. I couldn’t imagine life without it.

148. What advice would you give to yourself 5 years ago? Focus more on school and less on partying

149. How organized are you? Quite organized

150. Favorite mode of transportation. Train

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milkshake-at-pops · 5 years ago

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Tour of the Heart: Chapter 8

chapter 7/masterpost/chapter 9

let us know if you want to be tagged!

As Hollywood-chic as the tour bus was, it only took a day or so for Archie to get sick of it. It was cramped, and besides, he wanted to see the rest of New York City. This was Ronnie’s hometown, not his, and their first concert was tomorrow. Also, he wanted to get to know Jughead.

The reporter seemed like an interesting guy— he’d mostly kept to himself — and Archie’s manager had told him, in no uncertain terms, that the publicity for this tour could make or break his career. On a more personal level, Archie wanted to know what was hiding underneath Jughead’s beanie and his quiet demeanor.

“Hey Veronica,” Archie said, to his friend who was sitting five feet away from him on the other top bunk. “Do you know any good bars around here?”

Veronica giggled a little, for no reason that Archie could see. “Hmm… who are you taking? I hope it’s me, because there’s no way I’m letting you go bar-hopping on your own.”

“Um, actually, I was thinking of taking the reporter. Jughead, I think.” Archie swung his legs over the side of his bunk, looking at Veronica, who was reading a book, glasses on. Despite her offer to go, she didn’t look in the mood. Books and clubbing don’t mix well, at least according to Ronnie. Archie had never actually gone out clubbing before, it’s not like Riverdale had much of a night scene in a town where everyone went to bed before ten o’clock.

Lowering her reading glasses to look over at him, Veronica let her book fall in her lap. “Jughead… well, that changes things! I actually went to high school with him, fun fact, so I think I can give you two a solid recommendation. He actually dated a friend of mine for a time— before he moved on to Kevin Keller. They were cute, high school sweethearts, but it didn’t last. I wish I’d stayed in touch with him to know how it ended, though. It was very Breakfast Club of them— the theatre kid and the recluse. I swear, the two of them fulfilled every single gay stereotype during high school. Which was breaking stereotypes in its own way, although I do think I did that a touch more than they did. Being a feminine and out bi girl was… something.”

Archie was already down from the bed, tugging his shoes on and picking out a shirt from his suitcase. “What was the bar’s name again?” he asked, completely tuning out Veronica’s ramble.

She sighed. “Metropolitan. It’s in Brooklyn, so you should call an uber. And, fortunately for you and Jughead, it’s pretty cheap.”

“Metropolitan. Sweet, let me just grab Jughead from the kitchen and then we can get going,” Archie said, giving Veronica the smile that, unbeknownst to him, had already enraptured Jughead Jones. “Thanks for the spot.”

He found Jughead in the kitchen, eating a bag of sea salt and vinegar chips. “Oh, hey Archie. Didn’t see you there,” Jughead said, quickly shoving his phone into his pocket the second he saw Arch. “Want some chips?”

“Um, no thanks, because I was kind of wondering,” Archie began, wondering why his words were sticking in his throat. “Do you want to go get a drink or two, and um, get to know each other? I mean, I can’t exactly have the star reporter, Jughead Jones, on my tour bus without getting to um, know him some more than just your excellent fashion sense.” Archie’s eyes moved from Jughead’s beanie to his black t-shirt to his equally black ripped jeans, not sure what to do now that he’d stopped talking.

It took a few seconds for Jughead to respond, his face flushing slightly as he responded. “Sure, I’d love to become more acquainted with the world-class musician that I’m touring with, especially since I’m just…” A Buzzfeed “reporter” who has never actually written an article for their news section before now. “... so excited for the rest of the tour. Let me get my um…” don’t say condom, don’t say condom “Jacket. Because it might be cold. Then I’ll join you in the uber.”

Jughead bolted out of the room and dove into his suitcase under his bed which, unfortunately, was underneath Arch’s bed because Cheryl had already claimed the one under Veronica’s. Trying and failing to not ponder the sheer embarrassment of having in-the-flesh Archie Andrews walk into the kitchen while he had Archie Andrews’ instagram page up on his phone, he grabbed his old leather jacket (with a snake on it, because Toni had bought it for him as a gag gift) and took a deep breath to steady himself before walking back into the kitchen.

Archie Andrews felt a little awkward with his hand in the bag of chips that Jughead had just been eating, but they were addictively good and he was still waiting for the uber. He took note of how the leather jacket Jughead wore fit him well, like the sort of thing Jughead had worn enough that it had just become a part of him. “The uber’s going to be here in a couple minutes, you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to go. I wasn’t expecting this like, at all, but I mean, getting a drink barely requires a lot of preparation. Unless you’re Cheryl, in which case it’s usually an hour of raiding her closet for the best outfit and four selfies before we even reach the bar,” Jughead said, secretly very glad that his friendship with Cheryl meant that he knew rich people took ubers to clubs, not the bus. Or just walking, honestly. Just because Jughead had never actually been to a bar unless Cheryl dragged him didn’t mean that he didn’t know exactly how he’d do it without her.

“Sounds a lot like Veronica, but add the fourteen calls to the manager of the club so that she can get free drinks,” Archie said, laughing a little. His phone dinged in his pocket. “Oh, our uber’s here.”

They got in the uber, and instead of the awkwardly silent drive that Jughead had expected from someone who was as undoubtedly cool as Arch Andrews, the singer talked his ear off. From exploits with Veronica to ridiculous high school stories in Chicago, Arch had no problem sharing his life with someone that he barely knew.

And Jughead found himself, the guy who barely bothered saying more than four words to anyone unless it was via email, talking just as much. He told Archie about all the shit Cheryl had dragged him into, including when she’d demanded that he, as her best friend, find her a girlfriend, and, since it was four AM on a Friday night, Jughead prank called Toni.

“Wait, they actually got together?” Archie said, shaking his head.

“Cheryl and Toni, or fucking Choni, as Cheryl insisted on calling them, went strong all throughout our sophomore, junior, and senior year of college. I don’t know why I decided to play drunk Cupid in that moment, but I don’t regret it,” Jughead said, smiling at Archie’s attentiveness. Their uber pulled up next to the club, and Archie held the door open like a gentleman for Jughead, who wished that his beanie could become a ski mask so that his blush wouldn’t be so obvious. He could only imagine how much he looked like the cousin of a tomato.

They walked inside, and ordered drinks. Jughead took one look at the vibrantly colored menu full of words he couldn’t pronounce, and said “I’ll have what he’s having.” The bartender shot him a wink as he slid their drinks across the bar. Noting that the bartender was shirtless, Jughead took a sip of his not-half-bad cocktail and focused his attention back to Archie.

“So, Toni Topaz. How do you know her? She’s a Youtuber, and um, that doesn’t exactly seem like your crowd,” Archie said, once again taking in Jughead’s “It’s not a phase, mom” outfit.

“It’s not, really. Actually, we were friends way back in high school, she’s a part of my silly friend group. She actually gave me this jacket, by the way,” Jughead said, spinning around in the bar stool to show the back of it. “Which has a snake on it, because our groupchat name throughout all of high school was the Serpents.”

“No way, that’s so cool. Why the Serpents? Snakes are kind of gross,” Archie said, taking a drink from his glass.

“Like all good stories, this one begins with a Taylor Swift song,” Jughead said, feeling a wave of nostalgia as he remembered how it happened. “Okay, so there’s this guy in our group, goes by Fangs. He, for reasons I will never understand, was obsessed with Taylor Swift. Now, I don’t think she’s half bad, but this was next level. Anyways, you know that one video with all the snakes?”

“Yeah, I know it. Where is this going?” Archie said, resting his elbows on the bar and leaning closer to Jughead. “I’m captivated, you’re a really good storyteller. I can see why you’re a reporter.”

Jughead laughed, because this was an absolute gem of a story. “So, approximately five seconds after the video drops, Fangs decides to change the chat name to ‘Snake Bros’ with like, five snake emojis. Anyways, we were all immediately like, ‘No. Dude, don’t drag me into this. We support you, but for god’s sake the groupchat title can’t be about snakes.’ To which Toni, wise-ass as always, responds with ‘we should make it Snakes On A Plane.’”

That got a laugh out of Archie, and Jughead couldn’t remember enjoying a sound more. “But Fangs is insistent that we need to have a ‘squad,’ because he watched the video again while we were all going ‘Fangs dude, what the fuck.’ And he keeps saying that if we won’t be Swifties with him, that we at least need something that relates to his interests as a groupchat title. So obviously, no more titles with B emojis. Which is a tragedy of epic proportions, but that’s besides the point. Sweet Pea, who wasn’t Fangs’ boyfriend yet, but was getting there, suggested ‘Serpents’ because it sounded badass.”

“Okay, that’s good. And, let me guess, it stuck?”

“No, absolutely not. Betty had a freak out about how much she just hates snakes, Toni changed it to ‘Big Chungus’ at least eight times, I think I turned it into ‘Sad Emo Squad’ before Fangs changed it to fifteen more snake emojis. At a certain point, I believe that Fangs and Joaquin had a shouting match,” Jughead said, taking another drink and wondering if he could get lost in Archie’s deep brown eyes.

“That’s awful. Wait, how did you end up becoming the Serpents, then?” Archie asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“Me and Toni bought Fangs a stuffed snake to try and keep the peace, and quietly asked him if we could just call it ‘Serpents,’ if that would be okay with him. Fortunately for everyone’s collective sanity, he said yes.”

Archie smiled and laughed, returning Jughead’s tale with a yarn of his own. It was almost midnight before Veronica texted them to remind them that yes, they had a show tomorrow. As they slouched against each other on the ride back, Archie and Jughead wondered how people could go from being complete strangers, from pixels on a screen to someone captivating in every way.

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #jughead jones #archie andrews #cheryl blossom #veronica lodge #jarchie #cheronica #gay #lesbian #bi #ace #celeb au #tour of the heart #this is so Incredibly late but in my defense its mod j posting for mod * and its. hard

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mcrmadness · 5 years ago

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DIE ÄRZTE @ Warsaw, Poland on 16.5.2019 (text/photo post)

I was there. It was my first DÄ concert. A crazy Finn who traveled all the way to Poland from Finland to see a German band live. I regret nothing! :D I’ve been a fan of this band since April 2009 so this was also basically a 10-years anniversary for me. Beware, this is gonna be a long post.

It’s crazy what just one band can make a person to do. I’m nearly 28 years old and I had never ever been to a plane before. I was convinced for years that the first plane I step into, will crash down. Well, I was to 4 different planes in 5 days and none of them crashed down. Before I had also been only to Sweden once and Estonia once, and now I can also add Poland to the list, and Latvia because of the Riga airport. The flights were terrifying, the first one was so terrifying I was worried how I’ll get anywhere from Riga as I no way can go into another plane ever again. But I still did, because we needed to get to Poland. And I’m glad I did, cos the second flight was not so bad and the two flights back home were even less bad. I’m still not a fan of planes or flying, but I guess I’ll be able to do that again if needed.

I didn’t really see the city, even tho we went there on Tuesday and left on Saturday, we still didn’t get to the city. But it didn’t and still doesn’t bother me, because my main thing WAS Die Ärzte and all my focus went on that. The weather was awful there, just raining 24/7 but on Wednesday we still decided to walk to the venue to make sure we know how to get there the next day.

There it was!!! And we just walked around the streets in this area, just for fun and to observe this part of the city.

“Farin wouldn’t fit to walk under that branch!!!” was what my brother said when we saw this tree while walking :D

So we were just walking around while it was raining, visiting food stores (and always a different one as we succeeded at being embarrassing in every previous one), one “cosmetics” store where we found an older man who knew a bit of Finnish but thought at first that we were Hungarians :D That was interesting because the languages ARE language relatives but still I cannot understand other ugric languages; but apparently they do sound similar for the ears of people who don’t speak these ugric languages as their native language.

On Thursday I woke up basically in panic. My brother had forgotten to turn off his alarm clock and it went off at 7am which woke me up. I was covered in sweat, hungry, thirsty and my stomach felt awful and I was afraid of having a diarrhea finally from the water, but apparently it was just my normal “stress/panic stomach” but I was not able to fall asleep anymore. I felt like throwing up and I was in full panic mode basically and that’s when I wrote the panic-post about the gig here too. We still managed to get ourselves out of the building after 13 o’Clock and walked to the venue, where I met several awesome people (all German of course, I feel like we were probably the only people there speaking English [and Finnish] :DD). We waited in the line for hours and at least I had a blast. I was bit scared of it at first because of my neurotic nature but it went better than excepted and I didn’t run into single annoying person there. And I got a tour t-shirt which is my treasure now and I’ll protect it at all costs :DDD

The gig itself was so awesome. Already in the beginning the air felt very bad tho and I was sweating like what, at the times I already wished for the gig to be over so I could get outside where it’s good air and not so hot, but then something in my head just said “WHAT are you wishing for???????” as in no way I wanted that gig to ever end either, you know :D Soon I got over that and once the gig really started, I was just enjoying what I saw so much I didn’t feel nor notice anything else. I’m very short but I was lucky to not have 5000m tall people in front of my the whole time. Just once there was a guy as wide as he was tall too and because of him at the times I only saw glimbse of Farin’s head, but most of the time I saw pretty well at the stage and I was able to see the whole band with my own eyes :D I always film at concerts because I also get to see the concert from a better angle when my hands are 50cm above my head. But still there’s always people who block the view even from the camera, so you can imagine how my point of view is usually backs of heads and bit of the band too.

Here is the only photo of the concert itself as I filmed everything with my camera but I just needed to have at least one photo to my phone too, and this was it. It looks as if we were really far away but it sure did not feel like that. It’s the wide angle of my phone making that look like that, but I swear I could see Farin’s facial expressions and everything so clearly even tho we didn’t even stand in the front row. I’ll be making another post about the videos, but just wanted to keep this as a small “travel blog post” and also talk about the gig a bit, as I was requested by someone to do so :)

So, the gig. What can I say? It was awesome :D I was so nervous and in panic in the morning I thought I’ll die, but it was all gone when we got into the club. Usually the feelings also hit me after the concert when I’m back at the place I’m staying overnight, but not this time. I was so full of addrenaline and endorphines (even tho it doesn’t show as I don’t really move, I just stand still and watch the concert) that I was just smiling and being hyped the whole time, constantly just thinking and remembering the concert, watching video clips from my camera and I couldn’t sleep until it was like 4-5 in the morning. And same continued the next day. It was so incredible feeling because normally I ALWAYS have a nervous breakdown after concerts but this one seemed to do the opposite and I was feeling just better than ever and it kinda returned my “faith” in my concert visits because I often have felt like dying at gigs and I always ask myself why I do this, when it feels so bad and good at the same time, and yet I always go to gigs to feel like dying. This time I felt like I was alive and not dying at all. Maybe I was feeling like dying enough because of the planes and the gig was much more safer experience as it was not my first gig, even tho it was my first DÄ gig :D And even in a different country! With people who were not fellow Finns! I still can’t believe it how good it felt because I have NEVER felt so good after a concert! I never had the nervous breakdown after this gig and I have had it after every other gig I’ve ever been to (okay my list only has 6 of them so far, and the first gig I was to was in 2007), so this kinda gives me hope that maybe I’m starting to get used to the feels and maybe I’ll not have so strong nervous breakdowns in the future either. Who knows.

And the setlist was great. So many awesome songs and I can’t believe I’ve now heard some of my fave songs live! And I still can’t get over “Klaus, Peter, Willi und Petra” :D Felt so special to be in Warsaw as they played it live for the first time since 1985 and that song is good! :D

Friday was pretty much a day when we just slept. Or tried to sleep. I was up again too early, I just cannot sleep in in foreign places. And I felt like staying at the flat, not going out nor speaking to anyone. I was so tired of translating Polish with Google Translator offline when I don’t speak a word of polish, so tired at trying to talk English with Polish people who don’t speak much English and just trying to make sense of everything. I survive with English but it’s just incredibly hard to think and speak in English and at the same time try to pronounce well and come up with phrases that don’t sound like I have never studied English in my life. It’s just so difficult and I think the problem isn’t my English but just my social skills and overall personality because I cannot speak even proper Finnish when in social situations as I get nervous and forget how even my own mothertongue works. We still tried, but didn’t get to the city as first it was raining and thundering, next ticket vendor did not work, second ticket vendor had a broken paper money part and I didn’t understand how the card works; and didn’t want to go into a bus if not understanding how the ticket vendors there work either so we decided to walk to this shopping mall 5km away instead.

We spent some time in the shopping mall, buying something too and then left before the closing time. This time I could get a ticket vendor working and we traveled back to our place by busses. I wish I would have learnt to use the tickets before Friday evening as we had to leave from Poland the next morning pretty early. But at least I know how to use them when we visit Warsaw again one day...

The next morning we took a taxi to the airport and started our journey back home. We were finally at home at 23.00 Finland time. Warsaw was great, Die Ärzte was am (is!) amazing and I’m gonna keep remembering this trip for a long time! And if it’s up to me, this can’t be my last DÄ concert! I need to see them again one day!!! :D

Good bye, Warsaw!

Aaaaaaand back in Finland. What an experience this whole trip was! Thank you Warsaw, Die Ärzte and all the people I met at the gig!

#me #die ärzte #die aerzte #miles and more tour 2019 #dä warsaw

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ixiethepixiewrites · 7 years ago

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Synesthesia

Rating: G

Warnings: Some existential shit in the beginning, no real warnings, pre-relationship usukus

Summary: The colors had left him, so what would it take to bring them back? Rockstar AU

A/N: I was reading an interview with the lead singer of Panic! At The Disco and his words really resonated with me and pushed this out of my brain shjbjdhsj it started as just me writing my feelings but turned into a fic. Hope you enjoy. A little piece of my soul is in this one.

Colors, words, shapes. Alfred could see them all, and it was beautiful. When a song ended and changed to the next track, new colors appeared, the shapes melted into other forms, and words twisted to become something entirely different. That was how he had always seen the world when he listened to his favorite bands, when he wrote songs on napkins at coffee shops, or when he rode on a bus with headphones in. The music always took him somewhere new, a burst of colors that followed him wherever he went. When he had tried to explain this to his friends, they had looked at him like he was crazy, and he had to laugh it off. Pretending it was a joke hurt him, his insides twisting uncomfortably. No one would be able to understand.

Those long years in high school had turned his colors gray, the shapes vanished, and words no longer came to him. He’d lost all interest in his music, choosing to focus on things that his friends would like better. His guitar sat in his closet, untouched. The drum set he used to bang on? In the garage, gathering dust. Every year, the colors faded even more, and had all but vanished by the time he was graduated. Life had become a chore, nothing brought that same feeling back to him, but at least his friends and family were satisfied. His parents were proud of him for giving up his dreams and going for the dreams they’d picked for him. His friends enjoyed the sports they played together, urging him to play professionally. Naturally, he did as he was told, but all the joy on his face had become fake. His smile was forced, the laughs were hollow, yet no one seemed to notice.

Laying in bed, watching the ceiling fan rotate slowly, Alfred reflected on his life. What was good about it? Others would say he had it all, but was that really true? Did he really have it all if it all felt so empty? The tears started small at first, but as the weeks turned to months, more came out, spilling forth in tidal waves of blue. He wrote the first song in years, a testament to the pain that stabbed at his heart, gut wrenching feelings that awoke within him after so many years of being crushed and put to the side. He tore that paper in half, leaving it in the bottom of his closet with the other remnants of his old joys. It was too painful to look at them anymore, to see that reminder of happier times, when his joy had been real.

TV flickering to life at his command, he numbly watched the news, wanting noise to drown out the words in his mind. Oh but it never worked, they would always be there to haunt him when he went to sleep, stealing the rest from his body and leaving him drained by the time he had to wake up in the morning. The weather rolled by in a blur before something caught his eye. A man in a torn up punk rock style shirt who was flipping off the cameras. Arthur Kirkland, the name scrolled along the bottom of the newscast. Then a miracle happened.

Music played on the TV, video of this man’s concert, and something caught in the corner of Alfred’s vision. There was another flash to the side, and he’d seen it for sure that time! It had been green, he was sure of it! The video clip ended and he desperately waited, hoping that the music would play again, or perhaps the name of the band would be shown. When he had no such luck, Alfred turned to the internet, the saviour of his ignorance. Typing in the name Arthur Kirkland had led to a plethora of interview pages, but one particular name stood out. “Black Rose Tea...”

The name echoed in Alfred’s mind as he typed it into a video site, praying for results to show up. Blessedly, the band did pop up, album after album showing under the search results. He chose a song at random, listening to it while he lay on his bed. The colors graced him with their presence, shapes and words joining in and nearly making him cry from the feelings they evoked. He’d found them again, after so many years, his words and colored shapes had returned to him. The feelings within him were overwhelming, but he just kept playing songs, listening to each and every album, desperate to get more of that beautiful imagery flowing before his eyes. At around four in the morning, he ran out of songs to listen to, but that didn’t matter anymore. He had what he needed, and he was ready to give up everything he had to keep a hold of it.

The weeks rolled by as normal, but he now saw the world in a different light. Everything seemed brighter, happier, or maybe that was just him? The colors radiated so strongly, music filling his very soul and making his smiles feel less and less empty. When the news was announced that Black Rose Tea was coming on tour in the USA, Alfred had stayed up for 48 hours straight just to buy VIP tickets for the venue closest to him. He spent all the days before the concert preparing, unable to hold back his excitement, no matter how many odd looks he got from teammates and friends alike.

The night of the show, he was eagerly bouncing on his heels backstage, ready to see the band walk by and to their dressing rooms. What he saw soon after nearly broke his heart. The drummer of the band had walked out, leaving a fuming Arthur and a shell shocked Kiku Honda behind. Did they have a backup? From the looks they were giving each other, and their hushed tones, he figured that it was a no. Biting his lip, Alfred glanced warily at the large bodyguards, before he inched closer to the rope that kept the fans back. When he figured he was close enough, he realized he had no way to get their attention. That was when he remembered what he had brought for Arthur to sign.

Hurriedly, he pulled out the sheet of paper, the one that had the song of his sorrows on it, then scribbled a message on the back and balled it up. With a quick prayer to any diety that would listen, he threw the paper, hitting the singer on the back of the head. Surprised by the sudden hit, Alfred could soon see the glare he received from the rocker. Thankfully, the band’s other member, Kiku, had chosen to pick the paper up and unfolded it carefully. In black ink, the note read: ‘If you need a temporary drummer, I know how to play all your songs.’

Arthur took the note and read it, then he eyed Alfred warily before calling for security to bring him forward, all while the other fans nearby whined. Clearly they had not seen that fight as Alfred had, because they chose instead to complain about the concert being late to start and cutting into their autograph time. Holding up the note, Arthur raised an eyebrow at Alfred skeptically.

“Do you really know them all? Even the most recent release? It’s only been out for a month--”

Alfred nodded his head quickly. “If you give me sticks, I can prove it. I just... I just wanna help. I saw what happened right here and I know all these guys will definitely be upset if you had to cancel just because Francis is being a drama queen.”

That comment earned a snort from Arthur, who was now smirking. “I like you already. Follow me, we’ll see if you have what it takes to handle this job for one night. Can you sing?”

“Uh, I mean, I’m nowhere near as awesome as you, but I think-”

“Flattery gets you nowhere kid, can you sing?”

Alfred felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. “Dude, you’re only a year and a half older than me, I’m not a kid... and yeah, I can sing.”

As they stepped into a closed off rehearsal room, Kiku politely handed the paper back to Alfred. “You write well. Is this a song?”

“A songwriter, hm?” Arthur snatched the paper before Alfred could, and read it over.

That was it, Alfred’s life was complete, Arthur Kirkland was actually reading his song, oh sweet jeebus have mercy was it hot in here? Face as red as Kiku’s base, Alfred couldn’t help but fiddle with his jacket sleeves. What would Arthur think of his music? Surely it would look amateurish compared to any real singer, but Alfred figured that it at least had feelings to it.

When he was done reading, Arthur’s eyes met Alfred’s, a startling green staring at his own blue with surprise. The words that left his lips caught Alfred off guard.

“You see them too?”

That very same green that filled Alfred’s soul with every song of Arthur’s he’d listened to, it was in his eyes right now. The world had come to a stand still, and Alfred could only numbly nod his head in affirmation. Yes, he did see them, he had for the longest time. “Your music brought them back to me. My whole world had lost color, but when i heard you, I- I could see again.”

A small, genuine smile was the response, and Alfred swore his heart had stopped in that very moment. Those beautiful eyes stared into his own and he felt a whole new type of color flow through him. It was one of the most glorious feelings Alfred had ever been lucky enough to experience. It may have been only infatuation, but it was a start.

“Come on, lad, we have a concert to perform. What’s your name?”

“Ah-uh, Alfred Jones.”

“Alfred, hm? Welcome to the band.”

Arthur handed the paper back after writing something on the top. It was a single word, one that Alfred had never heard before, and yet he knew what it meant already. A word for the things he saw when he was in the music, feeling it, breathing it, living it. Loving it.

Synesthesia.

Synesthesia is a neurological condition in which a person experiences "crossed" responses to stimuli. It occurs when stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (e.g., hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (e.g., vision).

#hetalia #usuk #ukus #pre-relationship usukus #band au #rockstar au #human au #ixiewroteathing #ixie wrote a piece of her soul and is still sho o k

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kindofchaoticgood · 7 years ago

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Walk on Water

A celebration story for my surprise four day weekend, wherein Uma and Harry are music stars on tour together who do the relationship tag. Enjoy! (Lyrics from Beyoncé and Eminem’s new song ‘Walk on Water’ and Eminem’s song, ‘Hi, My Name Is’)

There are snatches of music dancing around in Uma’s head, but every time she tries to play them out, they sound wrong. She tries another simple phrase on the keyboard, but a note clanks too sharp.

“Motherfucker!” She growls, slamming her hands down on the keys, which make a dismally discordant noise.

“Leave poor Artemis alone,” Harry chides, stepping into the room. His hair is fluffing all over the place, a result of towel-drying after his shower. “It’s not her fault you can’t do it right.”

Uma shoots a glare at him that makes grown men cower but only makes him laugh. “Shut up.”

“No,” Harry grins and sits down next to her on the bench. “What’s wrong?”

She gives him a suspicious look to assess the seriousness of his question and then says grudgingly, “I can’t get this phrase down. It’s playing out perfectly in my head, but every time I try to play it out on here it sounds wrong.”

“Play it for me,”

Uma places her hands on the keyboard and starts playing, adding her voice to the piano chords. “I walk on water, but I ain’t no Jesus. I walk on water, but only when it freezes.”

She tries to play the next phrase, but she only manages to get through two notes before another damn false note rings out that makes even Harry wince. “Goddamn it!” she shouts, resisting the urge to bang her head on the keyboard. What is it with this fucking phrase?

“Hey,” Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder and draws her closer to him. “You’ll get it, okay?”

Uma just sighs and places her head on his shoulder. He smells like sandalwood, detergent, and something that’s purely Harry, and she curls further into his neck, lured in by his warmth.

“Come on darling,” Harry pulls back slightly from her to look her in the eye, a hint of a grin on his face. “Say it,”

“I’m not saying it.”

“Say it.”

Uma looks at him sternly, trying to maintain her stance. There’s a full-out grin on Harry’s face now, but seriousness in his eyes. It’s one of these things that he does with her, the constant encouragement and praise. She has always been self-deprecating to the point of putting herself down, and it’s a habit that Harry is slowly trying to train her out of. Uma doubts that she will ever be fully rid of the habit, but she loves Harry for trying.

“I’ll get it,” she says, and he smiles at her, not the usual smirk that’s always present around his mouth, not the rakish grin that makes his fans weak at the knees, but a real smile, the kind that makes his blue eyes sparkle like the ocean in the morning and makes his face softer. She loves that smile, and seeing it always makes something warm come to life in her chest.

“See, was that so hard?” Harry leans in and kisses her cheek, and she smiles despite herself and places her head back on his shoulder. She can work on the song another time. For now, she needs to take a nap.

“Love?” Harry murmurs into her hair.

“Hmm?”

“You aren’t falling asleep, are you?”

“I was planning to,” she mumbles back, burrowing into his neck. God, he’s always so much warmer than me. How is this fair?

“Well, you can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Do you remember when you were really tired after doing a concert and an interview right afterwards and I asked you to do a live video with me next week? And you said ‘I’ll do anything you want as long as you let me sleep’ so that live video is today,”

Uma’s eyes snap open and she pushes her head off of Harry. “WHAT?”

“Love you, bye!” Harry launches himself off of the piano bench as Uma tries to grab him and runs away.

“Harry James! Get back here right now, or I’m never having sex with you again!”

*****

“I don’t even remember agreeing to this,” Uma complains as Gil sets up the tripod in front of the sofa. Harry is already lounging on top of it, looking unfairly good-looking, as usual. “Why can’t you do this on your own?”

“Because we polled the fans on Twitter, and they said they wanted us to do the relationship tag for our next video,” Harry says, glancing up at her from his phone.

Uma frowns. “What the fuck is a relationship tag?”

“No idea,” Harry admits, running a hand through his hair. “But they’re going to be the ones sending us questions, so we’ll figure it out.”

Gil gives her a reassuring grin. “It’ll be okay Uma. Desiree and Harriet are gonna be going through the questions as they come, and you know they won’t let anything too bad slip through.”

That much was true. Harriet loved embarrassing Harry, but she was protective as fuck over her brother and Desiree was more like Uma’s mother than her cousin.

“I still have my performance makeup on,” Uma protests in a last-ditch effort to save herself.

Harry casts a glance over her hot-pink lipstick, turquoise eyeliner, and gold contour and smirks at her. “You look hot,” he says simply, moving over on the sofa so that there’s room for Uma.

She groans and stalks over to the sofa, throwing herself down on it and fiddling with a stray black and turquoise curl sulkily as Gil and Harry begin arguing about the position of the tripod.

Harry is the one who uses social media. He constantly posts on Instagram, updates his Snapchat story religiously, and uses Twitter like a lifeline, whereas Uma usually only posts on her Instagram once in a blue moon and only uses her Twitter to post sarcastic comments.

It was only after she started collaborating with Harry that she even got an Instagram; before that, all she had was the Twitter account and a secret Tumblr. To be fair though, there were a lot of things she hadn’t had before Harry.

She still remembers the first time they met; her verse in Khushal Nanzari’s (or, as his fans knew him, Gonzo) new song and the new single she had just released were taking off, and Harry and his band were invited to a celebration party Gonzo was hosting to celebrate the release of his third album. She had been sipping Cristal in a ridiculously tiny glass in an expensive metallic dress when Harry Hook, lead singer in Skullduggery Road, had walked up to her and said, “Your verse in Gonzo’s song was the most lyrically complicated thing I’ve ever heard, and you made my dragon of a big sister tear up with your voice in ‘Rise Up’. In short, you’re bloody amazing and can we collab on something?”

Uma had agreed before she even fully processed what she was agreeing to, because this was the lead singer of one of her favorite bands, how could she say no? They had exchanged numbers and Uma had completely forgotten that she had his number until he texted her the next day I’m also pretty okay at dancing if you need more reasons to work with me ;) and Uma had laughed out loud and set to work writing a song. Within a week, she had the song written and before she knew it, ‘What’s My Name’ featuring Harry Hook had been on Billboards Top 100 for four weeks straight and Harry was asking her out.

And now, they were going on their second tour together and had been together for two years. (Damn, has she really been stuck with him for that long?)

As if sensing her thoughts, Harry leans over and gently bites her shoulder through her oversized hoodie. She ruffles his hair absently, and gives him a small smirk to show him she’s already gotten over her complaints.

“And we’re going live in three … two … one,” Gil calls out, and then starts recording.

“Hey, I’m Uma Triskelion,” Harry says immediately.

“And I’m Harry Hook,” Uma adds, leaning against the sofa.

“We’re live in our tour bus, and we just finished off a performance in the Rabbit Hole – hence Uma’s unique makeup look.”

“Thanks love,” Uma mutters and Gil snickers. Harry just grins before continuing.

“So you lot have been begging us to do the relationship tag, whatever that is, so if you want to ask us a question, tweet us at #AskHumaLive –”

Uma makes a face. “What the hell is Huma?”

“That’s our ship name,”

“What? Since when?”

“Since forever, since we started dating, remember that?” Harry teases. “Or is your memory fading?”

“Who came up with that?” Uma demands, slightly creeped out. From behind the tripod, Gil is silently laughing, and she discreetly flips him off.

“The fans, baby, always the fans,” Harry replies distractedly, scrolling through his phone. “Ah, we already have our first question! AaliahWitch says ‘Uma, when is Harry’s birthday?’”

“June 14th,” Uma replies easily, and then studies her phone. “ChanceDaring12 says ‘What’s Uma’s middle name?’”

“Astraea,” Harry says immediately. “BurrShotFirst176 says ‘Where does Harry’s family come from?’” “England, but you grew up in Scotland.” Uma smirks at the disappointed look on his face. “HarrysHook – nice name, by the way – wants to know if you can name all of my cousins.” “Jonas,” Harry was starting to count off on his fingers. “Desiree. Harmonia. Piper. Poppy—” His face went blank. “Shit.” Gil snickers and Uma grins at the camera. “Second question, and he’s already choking,” she says smugly. “I’m not choking!” Harry protests. “I know that I’m missing four of them – wait, one of them is Madrigal!”

“She hates that name,”

“Madi, then!” “Three more to go,” Uma mocks him. “My cousins are going to be so sad when they realize you don’t know their names; they love you, you know.” “Jesus Christ,” Harry groans, and throws himself dramatically into her lap. Her phone vibrates with a message from Desiree and she laughs evilly as she reads it. “Desiree says that the girls are watching right now, and that they’re really sad that you don’t know their names,” Uma informs him gleefully, then turns to the camera. “It’s okay babies, I still know all your names,” she says with a sweet smile and a wave. “I’m sorry, okay?” Harry says, his voice muffled from under his hands. “I’m an absolute monster but I really need help.” “Hmm,” Uma grins. “What does the Internet think? Do you think I should give him a hint?” Harry turns over to the camera and gives it his best pout. “Please help me, Interwebs, you have no idea how many cousins she has.”

When she glances down at her phone, most of the tweets are in favor of her giving him a hint, and the conversation thread is full of people wondering why she has so many cousins. “Their names start with L, A, and T,” she says, smoothing out his hair.

Harry considers this. “That actually doesn't help at all. D’you have any idea how many girls names start with those letters?”

“They’re all related to music,” she points out offhandedly, snickering when Desiree sends her a picture of the girls making sad faces at the camera.

“I think that made things more confusing, to be honest,” Harry confesses. “I give up,”

“Lyrica, Allegra, and Talea,” Uma smirks down at him.

“Bloody hell!” Harry complains, then addresses the camera as he sits up. “Lyrica, Allegra, Talea, I’m dreadfully sorry I forgot your names darlings. I’ll take you out for ice cream the next time I see you, alright?”

Just then his phone buzzes and Harry stares down at it for a second before saying out loud, “Screw you, Harriet!”

“What did she say?”

“Something about how you need to spray whipped cream on my face. Utter nonsense.”

“Actually,” Gil pipes up, a shit-eating grin on his face, “it’s common custom in the relationship tag that if the person gets a question wrong, then whipped cream gets sprayed on to a plate and then the plate is smashed on their face at the very end.”

“How the hell do you know this?” Harry demands as Uma laughs. “I like this game,” she says smugly.

“We don't have any whipped cream though,” Harry protests, looking desperate.

Gil reaches behind him and pulls out a can of whipped cream. “Actually . . .”

“You bitch,” Harry growls as Uma bursts out laughing.

“Language, baby, what kind of message will this send to the Internet?”

“That he's a backstabbing traitor,” Harry declares as Gil and Uma laugh at him. “Gil Charbonneau cancelled, Marya Rasputin is my new best friend.”

“You wish,” Uma retorts. “Gil, hand me the whipped cream.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Harry groans as Gil hands her the whipped cream and a paper plate and she gleefully makes three large mountains on the plate. “I can't get any of the other ones wrong now.”

She grins. “It's my turn, isn't it?”

“Yeah . . . LittleSeaWitch wants to know where our first date was?”

“The aquarium. You kept on making up weird backstories for all the animals, and we nearly had to leave because you kept on interrupting the tour guide and telling the little kids that the nurse sharks had clinical depression.”

Harry grins smugly at the memory. “That was a good day.”

“Can't take him anywhere,” Uma tells the camera. “HumaLives wants to know what my eye color is.” She averts her eyes from him and then covers them for extra measure.

“Brown,” Harry says instantly.

“How do you even know that?” Gil demands. “Most people get that wrong,”

Harry shrugs. “She has beautiful eyes.”

Uma is intensely grateful that no one can see her blush as Gil lets out a sappy 'Awww’ and Harry kisses her cheek.

“Next question,” she says quickly, before she can start giggling hysterically, like she always does when she's nervous or embarrassed.

“Atlantic_Melody asks, 'What is Harry's favorite book?’”

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. QueenAudreyTheFirst wants to know what movie makes me cry every single time,” she glances up from her phone. “None of them. I don't cry during movies.”

“Bullshit,” Harry says smugly, then does a terrible job of cupping his mouth and whispering, “The Book Thief.”

Uma jabs an elbow into his side and Harry laughs. “Come on darling, don't hate me because it's true,”

“Get out,” she tells him, but he and Gil just smirk at each other over the camera.

“Leader_of_Marching_Band_Nerds asks ‘What does Harry eat for breakfast?’”

“The souls of the innocent,” Uma deadpans. “No, this one doesn't eat breakfast.”

“All my life I was very deprived,” Harry starts rapping. “I ain't had a woman in years, my palms are too hairy to hide-”

“His sister dropped him on his head as a baby,” Uma tells the camera. “WarriorPrincessLonnie wants to know who the dominant one in our relationship is.”

“Oh, me, obviously,” Harry flexes and winks at the camera.

“Funny, that's not what you said last night,” Uma says without thinking, and then starts laughing at the look of utter disbelief and incredulity that Harry's giving her.

Meanwhile, Gil has dropped to the floor, laughing so hard that his face is turning red. “Yes, Uma, drag him,” he chokes out, before dissolving into laughter again.

“I cannot believe you just said that,” Harry says slowly, a smile starting to come over his face as well. “Do you realize what you’ve just unleashed?”

“I ain't afraid of no ghosts,” Uma quips. Her phone is blowing up with messages from her friends; Ashe, Sierra, and Marya are making dirty jokes and Claudine is begging them to stop.

“Plain-Jane-the-Queen wants to know what my shoe size is.”

Uma freezes. Shit. “Well, wizards and witches, that's all the time we have for today-”

“Now hold on just one damn second!” Harry protests as Gil cracks up again.

*****

Later on, after all of the whipped cream has been washed off, and they're curled together on the couch, Uma gently pokes Harry in the shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?” Harry mumbles sleepily into her hair, the sound reverberating through her chest. It's completely dark outside, and the moon is streaming through the windows of the trailer, leaving white light trailing on the carpet.

“I think I figured out the song,” she tells him, lacing their fingers together.

“Really?” His other hand is underneath her hoodie, lazily stroking her hip.

“It's going to be a rap song,” Uma says, and feels Harry shift to a more seated position to look her in the eye. “I was thinking we could collab on it?” She glances up at him. “Is that alright with you?”

Harry is giving her the most awestruck look she's ever seen, the same one he gives her every time she sings for him. “Of course, it's alright love,” he reassures, leaning in to kiss her. “I always want to collab with you.”

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overly-b · 7 years ago

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Christmas Jams - Tom Holland

I hope that you guys are having a lovely December so far! Here’s some more Christmas love! This is a pretty short one, but I felt that it may have gotten to repetitive if I had continued. Enjoy loves!!

Warning: little swearing

Word Count: 2k

“Rockin’ around, the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop”

The familiar lyrics roll out of the speaker and into the kitchen where you stand swaying your hips. You were just beginning to cook dinner for Tom and yourself when you decided that Christmas music was the way to go for this December night.

It only took a few lines for your hums to become a light mumble of singing. And only a line or two more for your mumbles to turn into a reasonable singing voice. And before the chorus, you found yourself belting along to the upbeat song, bouncing from foot to foot, moving your hips, spinning once or twice.

You breathe in and out through your mouth as the song ends, grinning to yourself as you lean over the counter to your phone to choose the next song.

Carol of the Bells caught your eyes and you start to remember your high school days. You had sung this song for choir every year for your Christmas concert. You lightly sing along to your specific part of the song, thinking of all of the fun that piece of music was to sing in a large group.

You have your hands full as the next song rolled through. The beginning melodies of The First Noel wove into your ears. Being a rather soft song, you opted just to sway and sing instead of dancing around like an idiot.

Little did you know, Tom was pulling into the driveway. Having spent a long day at the studio, he found himself eager to see you and to eat the dinner he knew you were preparing for him. Being that today was his last day of work before his Christmas break, you had promised him something special. As he walked through the door, he was about to call out for you when he heard the loud ringing of music bouncing about the house.

Christmas music, he smiles at the thought. As he nears the kitchen, still yet to be seen, he hears the music accompanied by your voice that he loves oh so much. You do not sing around him often, so he considers it a blessing when you do. He finds you at the stove, cooking as you sing. Dressed in a pair of Christmas pajama pants and a white tank top, he smiles at your spirit.

“Noel, Noel” He listens as your voice captures him as it seems to do every single time you sing. “Noel, Noel” Your pitch reaches higher levels as the line continues.

Still hiding, he takes a video of you, debating if he should post it on Instagram or not. He chooses not to, seeing as you are quite shy about your singing. He might ask you later.

As the slow song ends, a new, more fast-paced song takes its place. He almost lets out an adoring laugh as you gasp at the realization of the song. Using your red fuzzy socks, you slide over to the speaker, turning up the volume.

“Santa tell me if you’re really there! Don’t make me fall in love again if he won’t be here, next year!” You belt, not bothering to start the song lightly. Tom quickly whips out his phone as you start dancing around to the song. He goes on Instagram live. With the camera pointing to his face, he holds a finger up to his lips, as if to tell his fans to keep quiet. He points in a direction that the camera cannot see.

“Look at how cute she is” He mouths, flipping the camera. Knowing how possible it was for you to do something completely embarrassing that you would hate him for posting, he knew that he had to be ready to flip the camera or turn off the live.

Your phone lights up with a notification from Instagram. You read that tomholland2013 had gone live. You smile to yourself, knowing that he was most likely doing something stupid with Harrison or spoiling things and decided to film it.

But in his eyes, nothing that you were doing was in any way embarrassing. Sliding around on your thick socks, using the fabric to spin, slipping every once and a while. He is forced to stifle laughs often as you amuse him.

You continue along, singing and dancing. The song fades, and you decide to text Tom as the lyrics of “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas” fill your ears. You hum as you type the words

‘Be home soon?’

Not two seconds after you send the text, you hear the familiar ring of Tom’s phone coming from around the corner. His head then pops around the wall.

“Hi love!” He cheekily grins.

“Tom!” You shriek. “How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough ” He pecks your lips as your face contorts in a slight confusion.

“You went live like three minutes ago...” You state. To this, Tom shyly smiles, bringing his phone up to show your face to the camera.

“Guys I’ve been caught”

“Holy shit!” You yell. “Thomas Stanley Holland what the hell!” You squeal with a slight embarrassment. You will admit that no, you didn’t do anything crazy or wildly inappropriate or embarrassing. Still, you smack his chest, a blush rising to your cheeks.

“What?” He asks innocently, shrugging his shoulders, he turns the camera to face him. “Everybody thinks you’re adorable!” He argues, not wanting for you to be embarrassed.

“I am pretty cute huh?” You joke. He flips the camera so it is showing you and your holiday attire.

“The cutest” He smiles. To this, you give a light-hearted grimace.

“You’re not off the hook yet Holland. Get into cozies and help me make dinner” You demand.

“Can we stay on live? Talk to some people? I feel like I haven’t done a good live in forever” He explains.

“Why, cause you were banned from making unsupervised videos or going live?” You giggle.

“Okay come on now” He whines.

“Yes we can stay on live. And don’t worry” You take his phone from him. “I’ll be supervising” Tom makes a face as he turns to walk up the stairs.

“I don’t need supervision!” He groans, voice sounding farther away as he enters your shared bedroom. You laugh.

“Yeah tell that to Marvel!” You call after him. You hear a faint string of profanities as he changes. You chuckle to yourself, looking down at the phone that is still recording.

“Hi guys” You position the phone on the counter top where it views the entire kitchen. “I’m not really sure how much of my singing and dancing you saw” You point out. “But I apologize for every second that Tom made you watch.” You smile. You peek over your own phone. “What song should I play next?” You ask.

The comments flood in, each stating Christmas songs of many varieties. But there is one that catches your eyes multiple times.

All I Want for Christmas streams through the speaker. You turn it down slightly.

“Holy shit I love this song” Tom yells from the upper level. Not a moment later, he rushes down the steps in a Christmas jumper.

“I” He begins. “Don’t want a lot for Christmas,” He says in a slightly musical way, holding his hand out for you to take. “There is just one thing I need” He motions for you to sing with him. You take his hand and he dramatically pulls you in close.

“I don’t care about the presents” You sing, but not in a serious, worried about your singing type of way. In a loud, fun way.

“Underneath the Christmas tree” You both sing together. You sway together in large steps, but as the chorus nears, the tension builds.

“All I want, for Christmas is...” Your dancing slowly comes to a stop. “You” You drag on. The song suddenly becomes upbeat, as does your dancing.

Taking fast steps, you and Tom dancing around the kitchen, still hand in hand. Looking absolutely ridiculous, and not trying very hard at all to look professional, you both laugh and sing. Tom spins you around swiftly. You slide back into his chest as he catches you.

Individually, you dance your way back to the stove, where you mix around the pot that sits there. Tom waltz’s over to the cabinets, taking out a few things that he knows you need. You both continue to belt the words to the music.

“Thank you” You grin toothlessly as he hands you the items. Tom leans over the counter, turning the volume of the music down slightly. He talks to the fans for a few minutes as you cook. You make comments every now and again.

“Taste” You hold out a spoon to him. The takes the spoonful of food, nodding.

“That's really good babe,” He says, swallowing. To this, you grin to yourself.

A new song comes to your attention. One that you know by heart.

“Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me” You start, taking on the sassy ego that seems to come to the song.

“Whoa” Tom turns his head to you, seeing your new demeanor.

“Been an awful good girl. Santa baby,” You and Tom meet in the middle of where you both were standing. “Hurry down the chimney tonight.” You sing to him, cheekily, giving him an eskimo kiss. The song goes on, and you sing every note about all of the things you wanted for Christmas. At least in the song.

As you hear the first notes of Jingle Bell Rock your face lights up. Knowing the Tom had only recently watched the iconic movie Mean Girls, you knew that he would get a kick out of what you were about to do.

“Are you ready for this?” You back away from him, still in the view of the live stream.

“Am I ready for what-” He is cut off by the lyrics starting, along with you beginning the first few steps to the Mean Girls dance. Tom bursts out laughing as he understands. You laugh along at your self as you dance, hoping that the people watching know that you’re jokingly performing the dance, and not actually trying to be seductive.

Your boyfriend jumps alongside you, following your messy steps. He goes by what he knows. You fall to the ground laughing as you cannot believe that you were the person to completely memorize the entire dance.

Tom lends you a hand up and you continue to dance with him.

“Jingle bell swing” He sings, lifting you up bridal style. Having taken you by surprise, you let out a loud squeal. Tom swings over to the point in which most of your hair is touching the floor. In one swift movement, he swings you back to your feet. You shriek again.

Your stomach hurts as you laugh, and your cheeks grow sore as you smile. You lean into Tom, sliding your arms around his waist, resting your head on his broad chest.

“I’m dreaming, of a white, Christmas” The vocals of Michael Buble forms a small smile on your face. “Just like the ones I used to know”

The two of you rock back and forth to the slow-paced tune, humming it to each other. He gently spins you around, bringing you back smoothly.

You press your body to his. Holding one hands out, you softly fumble with each others fingers. His other hand rests on your waist, while yours travels from his chest, to his shoulders.

“I’m so happy your home for the holidays” You sweetly beam, looking up at him.

“Me too darling. I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you” He kisses your forehead, then as you lift your head, he kisses your lips. After a moment or two, you pull away abruptly. Toms head leans forwards slightly, eyes still closed, confused as you why you yanked your delicious lips away from his.

“Um Tom?”

“Hmm?” He mumbles, wanting nothing but your kiss. Your head snaps in the direction of the kitchen counter.

“Are we still on live?”

#tom #holland #tom holland #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #christmas feels #christmas music #all i want for christmas is you #white christmas

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iwriteficsnottragediesladies · 7 years ago

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Search and Seizure Pt 4

Request: un-surpassable: Need. more. search. and. seizure . Ahahahhhh Request: kyky9103: Can you do more anxiety attack and seizure posts

Lots of people were asking for another part. Ask and you shall receive! There are two-ish scavenger hunt items. See if you can find them!

Pre-read Epilepsy Disclaimer

The video of your seizure in the grocery store ended up everywhere. Gossip sites, entertainment sites, youtube, facebook, instagram, twitter… It was awful. You cried. and cried. For days. Brendon and the boys were right at your side through it all.

You were just so terribly embarrassed and felt violated. Everyone in the world has seen you at your most vulnerable without your consent.

Some people were really nice. A lot of the fans and TV hosts were genuinely sympathetic and concerned. They all wished you well.

But some people were not nice at all. They made fun of you and left the most disheartening and offensive comments.

Honestly had no idea she could break dance like that.

That awkward moment when you realize your girlfriend is possessed...

Ew all that stuff coming out of her mouth. Looks like Brendon’s got himself a spitter, not a swallower!

Can she die from one of these so we can have Brendon back?

Brendon wanted to make all your hurting stop, but he couldn’t. He was absolutely furious with the way people were talking about you, especially people who claimed to be his fans. After finding you in a puddle one night, horrible comments from a fan website in your hand, he took to twitter.

It disgusts me the shit “fans” will say about the people I love most. If you’re one of them, just know I think you’re shit. Get fucked.

Perhaps the worst part was people concocting theories about your “rock star lifestyle” and how you must have overdosed on drugs. People were writing entire pieces about your struggle with addiction–addictions that didn’t even exist. “Crack whore” was the nickname for you, and it flew around the internet.

Finally, you want to put it all to rest. You are going to address it. Own it. You write up a message in your notes and post a screenshot of it on instagram.

To all of you who have been wishing me well: thank you SO much! I loved all the sweet messages you have been sending Brendon and I. I’m doing just fine now. To everyone who has tried to put me down, make fun of me, and talk shit about me: you need to take a serious look at yourself and your behavior. Have some compassion. I have epilepsy, which is a seizure disorder. Although it’s well controlled, I still have seizures from time to time. I never really liked to talk about it because I didn’t want people to treat me differently. But now, things have changed for me and that’s why I think I owe it to myself and all of my fellow epilepsy-warriors to speak up. I have epilepsy, but epilepsy does not have me.

Sending lots of love out to all of you, Y/n

You were too nervous to read the comments, so you had Brendon do it. He started reading all them aloud and it was incredible.

They talked about how happy they were that you were okay, that you were so strong, that you are perfect just the way you are, that they don’t see you any differently… The best was how many people felt comfortable sharing their own struggles with epilepsy, a lot of them crediting you for giving them the courage to do so.

You made the absolute best of the situation you were put in. You finally felt free.

In another exciting turn of events, you and Brendon got engaged last month. You both knew you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together since the moment you met, so it was all coming true. You couldn’t be happier.

It was back to touring and you were backstage at a show. You knew you were tired and you were looking forward to calling it a night. You decided you might go back to the bus early, before the show ends. You were enjoying the thought of getting comfortable in your pjs–

Uh oh.

It hit you hard and very suddenly, interrupting your train of thought entirely: your arm was gone and your stomach flipped.

No, fuck, not during a show.

You stood for a moment, wishing it away with all your might. The heat around you became oppressive. Everything was only intensifying. You looked out onto the stage, seeing Brendon singing and running around as usual with his special performance glow. You smiled for a moment.

You come up with a plan: you’ll just grab Zack and go further backstage, out of view. You won’t interrupt the show and you can just tell Brendon after. You’re sure he’ll be furious that you didn’t tell him sooner, but you weren’t about to ruin the concert for everyone.

You dropped out of your thoughts as your body was screaming to get your attention, realizing how badly you were feeling. You spot Zack and start to make a beeline over to him. Your purposeful steps suddenly became weaker but you were determined to make it. You’re a little less coordinated as you reach him, stepping closer to him than you really meant to. His expression drops as he looks to you.

“Zeyh–” you slur as you attempt to reach out to him.

“Oh, okay,” He is instantly grabbing underneath your forearms, firmly supporting you. It’s fairly dark and hard to hear each other over the music, but you don’t really need to say much of anything. Zack didn’t need any more information to figure everything out. He has developed a sixth sense kind of thing about it now, actually.

“Don’t feel–” you try.

“You don’t feel good?” he finished the statement for you. You nod and your lip trembles. “I know honey,” Zack comforted you, “It’s okay.”

You fall into his chest a bit and he adjusts his grip.

“I gotcha Y/n,” he reassures you quickly, speaking gently into your ear, “let’s lay down.” You’re so petite compared to him, he easily begins to move you to the floor.

The crew members nearby start to gather around the situation.

Brendon happened to be jogging his way towards your end of the stage. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the unusual events unfolding offstage. He did a double take and saw you clinging to Zack as he was helping you to the ground.

He felt his stomach drop to the floor.

“Oh fuck,” he said under his breath, frozen for a moment. The next thing he knew, he was sprinting off stage to you as fast as his legs could carry him. He pushed a couple of stage hands out of the way and slid on his knees, arriving next to you. He shrugged off his jacket and Zack put it under your head.

You suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder and find Brendon above you, pulling his earpiece out.

“It’s okay baby,” he panted, “I’m right here.”

His voice was the last thing you heard. You started to seize and Brendon looked over at Zack, who had his phone out with the timer starting. Zack nods at him silently, and Brendon returns it, so grateful that Zack takes such good care of you.

Meanwhile, the band was left hanging. The crowd was also puzzled, disappointed by the sudden end of the song.

When the boys realized Brendon had ran, each of them kind of dropped off, confused. They looked after where he had gone and saw you on the floor, Brendon and Zack at your side. They were heartbroken and exchanged looks, wondering what to do. After a second, Dallon decided to speak up.

“Alright guys, sorry,” He said into his mic, “We’re gonna give Brendon some time to, uh, help out his beautiful fiancé here, having a little trouble.” He kept it nonchalant, not exactly sure of what to say anyway.

The entire audience could guess what was happening and they all awed, feeling terrible for you. No doubt that every single person in the arena had seen the video of you in the grocery store.

“Oh no, she must be having a seizure!” “Poor thing!” “Oh Brendon is so sweet!”

The boys kind of just talked with the audience, joking around, playing a riff from time to time to stall. They wanted it to be quiet for you.

Brendon was brushing your hair from your face when you start to bleed a little. He and Zack both notice you’ve moved onto your back, not completely on your side anymore.

“Yeah, let’s–” Brendon directed Zack, not really needing to use words because he was thinking the same exact thing. Zack rolls you further onto your side while Brendon helps you along. The rest of the blood was able to drain out.

“There we go,” He sighed, wiping it away. He stroked your cheek gently. “it’s okay baby. You’re okay.”

Some of the stagehands started asking questions. Brendon was completely focused on you, so Zack took over answering, informing them of the situation. Brendon continued whispering to you and you started to come down.

“Shhh, good job baby,” He said quietly, wiping your mouth one last time. “Zack?” He called his attention.

Zack looked at him and then glanced down at his phone. “1:41,” He replied. “Alright, all you guys have to back off please.” Zack commanded the crew around you, waving them away. He didn’t want you to be any more scared than you already would be, waking up in a strange place.

“Wasn’t too bad,” Brendon consulted with Zack.

“Nope,” he agreed, “Normal length.”

“God,” Brendon sighed, “Did she seem different to you? I didn’t see this one coming at all.”

“No, she’s been fine all day,” Zack shrugged, “Maybe she forgot her medication.”

They give you another minute and you start to come to. They moved away.

You open your eyes and it’s dark. Why can’t you see? You moved your eyes up and realize you’d been looking at the black floor you are laying on. You see a hand right next to your face and stare at it intently. Suddenly you realize it’s your own hand, and try to move it. It took you a second but finally you were able to slide it a little. It still felt so foreign as it sat front of you.

You are drawn away from your hand as your disorientation tugged at you. Fear sat deep in your stomach. You know you’re laying on the ground, but where and why? You slide your hand against the floor again, wanting to put in a position that you could push yourself up from, but it was no use. You were far too week.

A wall of fuzzy sound hit your ears. You looked beyond your hand and saw boots. Black boots. Those do not belong to you. Oh my god, it’s a person, right in front of you.

“Y/n, you’re okay,” Brendon begins to speak quietly.

You start to panic and your fight or flight reflex kicked in. You rustle on the floor and try to get away from the figure in front of you, but the most you can manage to do is withdraw.

“It’s okay, baby,” Brendon continues, “You had a seizure but you’re okay now. it’s just me and Zack.”

You don’t really seem to be responding to him like you normally would by now. He’s not sure if you aren’t showing it, or if you truly can’t hear him.

Truth is, you haven’t heard a single thing. The figure comes closer to you and you try to hit it away, punching and whimpering.

“Baby, it’s alright,” Brendon called to you, blocking your weak hands as you tried to throw them through the air, “Shhh, it’s okay.”

Sound becomes clear to you and all you can hear is yourself. You hold your breath as you continue to struggle, wondering if you could hear something that would help you figure what was going on.

“Y/n, it’s okay,” Brendon tried again.

You hear it. That voice. Brendon. You still yourself.

“It’s Brendon, Y/n,” Brendon tells you, “You’re okay.”

You looked at him, taking in his features and trying to put it all together.

“Bren?” You questioned quietly. He lit up a bit and nodded.

“It’s me, baby,” He reassured you, “You’re safe.”

You respond by relaxing your hands back down to the floor.

“You had a little seizure, so I know you’re confused,” He explained sweetly, “but you’re alright. It’s me, and your BFF Zack is right there behind you, alright?” he said with a little smirk. A smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

You start to push yourself onto your elbow and ponder your surroundings. Zack and Brendon both hover their hands over you in case you start to fall.

“We’re at the venue in Ohio for a show,” He said.

You glance around and realize there’s stage crew around you. You looked at him and saw that he was soaked with sweat and in his stage outfit. Beyond him, you saw the boys onstage and one of their voices speaking casually on a microphone. Your eyes grew wide.

“OH MY GOD!” You exclaimed, “YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SHOW!” You were quickly pushing yourself up to sitting and fumble to properly put your weight into your hands. You don’t have the balance or the strength and fall over backward.

Apparently Zack would rather die than let you hit the ground, because suddenly he is holding you upright and rests your back against himself. You forgot he was back there, even though Brendon had just told you that. You’re not really sure the physics of how it all happened, but you are sure that Zack is a ninja. What a great BFF.

Oh wow, even your inner monologue is seizure drunk.

“Easy, Y/n,” Brendon holds your shoulder, “It’s okay.”

“Oh my god,” You shook your head, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You start to cry.

“No, no, no, Shhh,” Brendon immediately soothes, heartbroken to see you brought to tears like this. He takes your cheek in his hand, “It’s okay,” he tried with a sad chuckle, “Y/n. It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeated through your tears. Zack was rubbing your upper arm and Brendon was wiping each tear as they fell.

“Y/n,” he said, tilting your head up to look you in the eye. “Baby, it’s okay. I needed a break anyway, alright?” He chuckled again, “It’s hot out there!”

You mustered up a small smile for him. At his comment, you notice he’s not wearing his gold jacket. You look down and see it wadded up on the floor.

“Oh no I got blood on it,” you said sadly with a pouted lip, observing a puddle that had formed and smudged around. You feel terrible, like you’ve truly ruined everything.

“You know what?” Brendon said in a clear, optimistic voice. You look to him. “Tomorrow we’re gonna wash that thing and make our own fucking oxi-clean commercial, alright?” He joked, grinning widely. He makes you giggle. “It’s just clothes, baby,” He reminds you softly. You nod with a little smile.

You wait for a moment before breaking the silence.

“Go,” you say to him.

“What?” he asks.

“Go!” you repeat, “I’m fine here, go back on stage. You have a show to finish!”

He looked at you from beneath his eyebrows, annoyed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He scoffed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why?” You huff, pouting your lip in an exaggerated fashion. Oh boy, here’s the seizure drunk coming through.

“Because my fiancé just had a seizure!” Brendon responded, “I’m not finishing the show!”

“Seize seizin’ is a habit” You sing like David Banner’s ‘Stuntin is a habit’ with your best gangster style.

“Oh my god,” he covers his eyes in embarrassment.

“I’m fine now Bren, there’s nothing left to be done,“ you try, “Your fans deserve this!”

“You are my top priority,” He responded.

“Look, I have my BFF Zacky-poo,” You reached up and sloppily patted Zack’s cheek, “And you can go finish your show.”

“Y/n, I’m not–” He started.

“Brendon Boyd Urie,” You cut him off harshly, “If you do not get back on that stage right now, you are not touching my body for a month.”

The look on Brendon’s face is hilarious. He can’t believe you just said that.

“Yeah, that’s right,” You clicked your tongue. He evened his facial expression.

“You’re just seizure drunk,” He dismissed. You lean forward a little.

“Baby,” You coldly whisper in his ear, “I don’t lie when I’m seizure drunk.”

You lean away. Now he looks even more flustered. Poor Zack probably felt awkward as all fuck, but oh well, this was far too entertaining.

“Hm, better get back out there,” You said lightly with an innocent smile.

Brendon gives you a death stare for a moment and you just hold your smile. He looks to Zack.

“You sure you got her?” Brendon asks him, his voice flat and annoyed.

HA. YOU’VE CRACKED HIM.

“Course, man,” Zack nodded dutifully.

“You’ll bring her back to the bus?” Brendon checks. Zack nods again.

Brendon pauses for a second and sighed, aggravated that you’ve won the battle. You’ve always been a fighter.

“Okay,” he surrenders. He kisses your forehead and pulls away enough to lock eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bren,” You reply.

He takes off and as soon as he is back on stage, the crowd erupts with noise. Zack is working on getting you up and sitting in a chair for a little while before you actually trek back to the bus. You hear Brendon address the audience.

“We’re all good, guys,” he told them as they cheered, and then waited for them to quiet down a bit.

“Not that I wouldn’t anyway, because I do love you guys, but, uh,” he chuckled under his breath, “my fiancé just threatened to withhold sex from me for a month if I didn’t come back out here.” The crowd roared with laughter and he literally giggled like a little girl, “So you can thank Y/n for this one!”

You’re welcome. You smile and laugh to yourself.

You have epilepsy, but epilepsy doesn’t have you. Life has to go on.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the read. Zack is the fucking best and I strongly believe he would turn into such a little softie like this. This series is pretty fun to write. Like/reblog if you’re feelin’ it!

ps. Lol who would actually have the willpower to withhold sex from Brendon?

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