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criticalbennifer · 2 years ago

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Jennifer Lopez in Her Own Words (and Everyone Else’s)

She has been a dominant force in pop culture for 30 years. So how did Jennifer Lopez do it? Here, she, her friends, and her collaborators share the lowdown on J.Lo.

By: In Style Editors

April 5, 2021

After three decades of nonstop performing, you would think that Jennifer Lopez might take a break. But…nope. "I'm in the best shape of my life," she says. And her friends and colleagues — Leah Remini, Ben Affleck, Michelle Obama, Marc Anthony, and many, many more — concur. Perhaps rapper Fat Joe puts it best. "She's Jenny the Icon. She's not just from the Bronx no more…"

In the beginning...

Abraham Quintanilla Jr. (father of the late Tejano star Selena, whom Lopez portrayed in Selena, 1997): When I met Jennifer, she had been mostly a dancer and at that time was focusing on acting. I recall that early in the Selena production, we filmed the Astrodome concert scene with 30,000 Selena fans as the audience. After it was finished, [my wife] Marcella and I were walking with Jennifer to the dressing rooms. Jennifer stopped and said, "Look at my arms. I have goosebumps." I asked her why, and she replied, "I've never been in front of 30,000 screaming fans." At that moment, you could see in her eyes that she had experienced the excitement of performing live in front of an audience and she wanted to be a part of that entertainment world, which is so different from the acting world. She had the vision.

Jennifer Lopez: Abraham is right. At that point in my career, I had never performed onstage in front of 30,000 people. I felt a huge responsibility to do everything right and to play Selena in the way that her fans and her family would love. I wanted to document her in history in the most beautiful way. I remember feeling comfortable up there and in my own skin and that performing came naturally to me.

Judy Greer (co-star in The Wedding Planner, 2001): Everyone on set was calling her Jen-Lo — there was no J.Lo yet. I'd like to think that it all started there, on a soundstage in Glendale, CA. (I am sure it didn't, but I can pretend I was there at the beginning.)

Lopez: The name J.Lo came from [the late rapper] Heavy D. He used to come by the studio for my first album [On the 6, 1999] and would call me Jenny-Lo, Jennifer-Lo, or J.Lo.When I was doing my second album, I decided to call it J.Lo [2001], and I believe that's when it really stuck!

Tyler Posey (co-star in Maid in Manhattan, 2002): I worked with Jennifer when I was 10 years old. She was always on time and always gave 1,000 percent when she was acting or talking to someone lower than her pay grade. Everyone was treated equally. About halfway through the shoot, she bought me an Xbox! I couldn't believe it.

On her incomparable work ethic:

Marc Anthony (singer and ex-husband): The thing about Jennifer is her ability to see and understand things before they happen. Before she even brings an idea up, she has visualized it a thousand times. And if anyone says it might not be the greatest idea, she'll say, "You just don't see it yet." Nine times out of 10, she'll nail it. She's the first one in the room and the last to leave. The hardest worker I've ever met. When we were together, it was quite the opposite for me. That has changed since. I learned so much from her. She's the original!

Michelle Obama: The world knows that Jennifer is blessed with many gifts — talent, beauty, and an unparalleled work ethic. But what impresses me the most about her is her unwavering commitment to leverage those gifts and use her platform to give voice to the voiceless. Whether it's working to improve health care for mothers and children, encouraging more people to vote, or singing her heart out at a presidential inauguration, Jennifer has always known that life is best when it's shared with others.

Ben Affleck (ex-fiancé and co-star in Gigli, 2003): I thought I had a good work ethic, but I was completely humbled and blown away by what she was committed to doing day in and day out, the seriousness in which she took her work, the quiet and dedicated way she went about accomplishing her goals, and then how she would go back and redouble her efforts. She remains, to this day, the hardest-working person I've come across in this business. She has great talent, but she has also worked very hard for her success, and I'm so happy for her that she seems, at long last, to be getting the credit she deserves.

Charlize Theron (actor and friend): Jennifer is an absolute powerhouse. I can't begin to comprehend how she does all that she does, always giving 120 percent, and she has made it seem effortless for 30 years. To call her a triple threat doesn't come close to describing her—she's all of the threats!

Lopez: I love what I do. I'm passionate about it. Every day does not seem like a job to me. I can honestly say I'm living a dream, and I'm grateful every day that I wake up. I have tireless energy for what I do. I also have an amazing team who help me in every single way both personally and professionally. I really believe the most important thing is to have great people around you.

Matthew McConaughey (co-star in The Wedding Planner): Jennifer Lopez — what can she not do? Extremely deliberate, intentional, fully choreographed, and self-aware, she even knows how to make accidents look like accidents. When we acted in scenes together, she would turn in take after take as if timed on a meter, 1:01, 1:00, 1:02, 1:01…yet you couldn't tell that she was keeping a clock. Her success is not happenstance.

Leah Remini (close friend and co-star in Second Act, 2018): I had actually never worked with her before Second Act. I'm messing around with her before we're starting, and she's like, "Hey, dummy, you want to go over the lines for the scene we're about to do?" She would do things where she would talk about where our characters just came from, like in acting class. I was like, "Oh, good for you. You're an actor's actor." I was thinking more about what we were having for lunch.

Lorene Scafaria (writer and director of Hustlers, 2019): People ask what it was like to be behind the camera for [Lopez's character] Ramona's dance in Hustlers, which was, of course, electrifying, but I was just as gobsmacked watching Jennifer in the diner scene, convincing the audience that doing something illegal and objectively wrong was not only a good idea but justifiable. The dark turn that [initially] scared studio heads out of a green light was now an amen moment thanks to the power of Jennifer's sermon.

Lili Reinhart (co-star in Hustlers): Jennifer never flubbed a line when I worked with her. Even shooting late into the night, she was always in good spirits and had high energy. Can we please do a Hustlersreunion at a strip club when the pandemic ends?

Lopez: I've had the same approach to acting and the same teacher, Aaron Speiser, since I first started in my 20s. We go through the script together, talk about who the character is, and consider the effects of what they experience. I've become confident in the process, and I trust myself more. When you start out, you are so afraid you'll forget something and that you won't be able to deliver in front of the camera. I don't have that [issue] now. I've always said that preparation and rehearsal make me very confident when it's time to perform, and with experience, it gets even better.

All about that J.Lo glow:

Fat Joe (friend and frequent collaborator): J.Lo is J.Lo, OK? So if J.Lo walks into the party, she will smell so good that when she walks to the other side of the room, you can still smell her.

Bozoma Saint John (CMO, Netflix): Her skin is literal perfection. That's it. LOL. There's nothing more to say because it's true.

Affleck: Where are you keeping the fountain of youth? Why do you look the same as you did in 2003 and it kind of looks like I'm in my 40s…at best?

Lopez: I don't have any [beauty] secrets except JLo Beauty — and I'm giving them all to everyone with every product. Ben is funny! He still looks pretty good too.

I also think I'm in the best shape of my life. In my 20s and 30s I used to work out but not like I do now. It's not that I work out more; I just work out harder and smarter. And it doesn't take me as long as it did in the past. I do it more for my health than I do for looks, which is funny. When you do things for the right reasons, you actually look better!

And her style:

Olivier Rousteing (creative director, Balmain): I worked with Jennifer for the Met Gala [in 2018]. We danced at the fitting when she was trying on her dresses — and laughed so much. But the best time of my life had to be the day after the red carpet, dancing with J.Lo at the Boom Boom Room [in New York]. Imagine how it feels when you're obsessed with her, you love her so much, and you dance with her, your favorite icon. That was one of the things I loved the most.

Donatella Versace (artistic director, Versace): On International Women's Day, I was scrolling down my Instagram feed, and I saw this image of Jen holding a card saying, "I'm limitless." That made me stop for a moment, and so many memories came to mind: from the first time we met in Paris, her incredible career, the moments in Versace that will remain forever ingrained in everyone's imagination, and so on… But then it hit me again. That word: "Limitless." It describes her perfectly. Her discipline, her courage, her resilience, her hard work, her intelligence… rarely have I met someone who had a dream and worked so hard to achieve it. When you are in the same room with Jennifer, you can almost feel her energy pulsating through her veins and filling the space around her. I love her with all my heart.

Tom Ford: It goes without saying that Jennifer is one of the most beautiful and talented women in the world. But the greatest thing about her is that she is a kind and empathetic person. She is spectacular in every way, and I have tremendous admiration for her.

On President Biden's inauguration:

Remini: Would you think that she was going to text you right back after watching her performance at the inauguration? No, but I knew that she would. I texted a whole paragraph, and then right away I saw the little dots [that she was typing back]. Like, "Baby, really? Was it good?"

Lopez: It was a huge honor to be asked to perform at an inauguration. When [then] President-Elect Biden's team called [my manager] Benny [Medina] and said that he'd asked specifically for me, I thought, "What am I going to sing?" I knew he wanted a touch of something in Spanish because that had not been done. I wanted to represent women, minorities, Latinos, and all Americans in the best way I could. The songs that I chose had huge significance to me, and the way that I chose them was very carefully crafted to be inclusive and unifying. I was very happy with the way it came out.

[As for the texting] we drove to the airport right after the performance, so I was on my phone and I got to answer a bunch of friends, my mom, and my family. It was at that time that I realized the impact that it had!

Her lessons to live by...

Fat Joe: We were shooting this video in the Bronx called "Hold You Down" [2005], and it was freezing. I had on this huge, bubble goose-down coat, long johns, boots with three pairs of socks, and warmers in my boots and for my hands. And here's J.Lo in a tube top and a miniskirt shooting that scene with me. And I never told her, but in my mind I was just like, "Man, this woman got way more money than me and I'm freezing, but I better not complain because she hasn't complained once!" So I don't care if I'm in the desert in 100 degrees—I never make excuses. Whenever I talk to other artists or need to give myself a pep talk, I go right back to that moment.

Lopez: I definitely remember being on the video of "Hold You Down" and how cold it was. I had to sing to the song, but my lips were frozen, and I couldn't move them. It's funny that Joe remembers that. But overall, I'm not a complainer — especially when I'm working on set. I am there to do a job, and that's what I should do. Believe it or not, I don't want to burden anyone with my thirst, or if I'm cold or uncomfortable. That might be something that my mom and dad instilled in me. You just have to be grateful to be doing what you're doing. It's a very Latino thing. Be happy with what you have.

...including the healing power of cookies:

Remini: We often have sleepovers. But if I'm having a hard week, my friend will do things for me. She's a big bath person. So she'll fill a tub for me, put rose petals in, light candles. She makes the chicken cutlets and rice that I like — her Puerto Rican rice. She makes my coffee the way I like it. She'll bring it on a tray with some chocolate chip cookies.

Elaine Goldsmith-Thomas (close friend and partner in Nuyorican Productions): To me, she's Jennifer — a girl who likes to cozy up on the sofa with her kids [twins Max and Emme] and her friends and watch old musicals, eat popcorn and maybe a cookie or seven. She's also a person who flew in for every chemo treatment I had 16 years ago, rubbed my bald head, and dreamed with me so I wouldn't forget that tomorrow was possible. And it was. She's an amazing mother, a beautiful dreamer, and the best friend I've ever had. Everyone needs a compass. Lucky for me, I found mine.

Ryan Seacrest (co-host of American Idol when Lopez was a judge from 2011 to 2016): Jennifer is obviously in great shape. She stays fit, she works out, but she eats what she wants, and I deprive myself. And she said, "Why are you depriving? Just have a bite of the cookie, Ryan. You don't have to have the whole cookie." And so I live my life now trying to think about having a bite of the cookie, not the whole cookie. It's not going so well.

Lopez: One day I'm going to let everyone in on my secret cookie recipe. It came from a secret couple, and these cookies are my favorite. Someday I'll give you the J-dough! And, actually, I think that's what I'll call it!

Jennifer Lopez: Mother, Icon

Kat Coiro (director of Marry Me, to be released February 2022): Jennifer was always FaceTiming her kids [on set], having them come visit, leaving a grueling week to go spend the weekend with them. As a working mom myself, it was nice to see someone who kicked butt at their job and gave themselves over fully to their craft but also spent every waking hour when she wasn't working being with her family!

Constance Wu (co-star in Hustlers): Her kids, sister, and mom would come to set a lot and are a big part of her life. They're all really kind and down-to-earth.

Lopez: It's hard for any working mom. You feel guilt anytime you have to work and cannot take care of your kids. It's a balance, and I do the best I can. It doesn't matter if I'm on location or if I'm in the house with them — we are communicating, we are laughing, and we are spending time together. And sometimes I'm even nagging at them to brush their teeth, get into bed to get up for school, all the things you have to do. I cannot begin to list the things that my kids have taught me about myself. I'd have to write a whole separate book on that.

DJ Khaled (collaborator on "Dinero," 2018): I've been blessed to work with J.Lo multiple times. She's so special and has a different kind of drive that very few people have — it's what makes everything she touches legendary. That's what makes her iconic.

Lopez: Honestly, I don't get caught up in those types of words [like "icon"]. I'd rather keep my nose down, keep working and doing what I do, like being creative and enjoying my life. When you start thinking too much about those things, you become egotistical. I'm interested in growing and evolving every day, being better as a person, better at what I do, and better at being a mom. I think what makes someone iconic is when they can create the different moments they can imprint on the world.

#jlo #jennifer lopez #instyle magazine #2021 #press/article

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thisdress · 5 years ago

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i....... genuinely don’t remember the majority of my red tour show

#it was my first time seeing her live #i remember her coming on stage #and i remember everything has changed #and that the surprise song was tomg #and i remember wanegbt #and that's literally it #i blacked out man #i mostly just remember her coming onstage and her leaving

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rockingrobin69 · 3 years ago

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Stage Fright

It would have been another thing if Draco actually knew what he was doing, but this—going at it willy-nilly, without even a shred of a plan, a smidgen of a thought—Merlin’s pants, he’s lost his mind. He was meant to be an adult now! With—bills, and backpain, and wine, the whole thing! A job he rather liked, and a few actual friends, even a greyhound that chewed all his slippers. He was an adult, so what in the hell was… as if he couldn’t outgrow this silly habit. As if green eyes smirking with challenge equated madness—or made some caveman, primal part of his brain boil, leaving all rational thought behind. Which was pretty stupid, because he’s been working with Potter for months now, had to see him all the time since he moved into town. Draco’s town. With Draco’s friends and Draco’s students and Draco’s dog—

“Two minutes, Mr. Draco!”

“Wha—” Tessa was gone before he even looked up. Shit. Why did he... what was he thinking? Draco buried his face in his hands, trying to remember what he tells kids who start to hyperventilate. It can’t just be breathe, can it? God, god, god—

Or Potter, sure. Draco would recognise these footsteps anywhere. In a frightening turn of events, instead of breathing too much, he simply stopped altogether.

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

Thankfully, Draco could always count on one thing; the most stable, constant thing in life, Potter being a menace. And everyone thought he was so great, the kids, all of Draco’s friends, even his bloody dog. Draco managed to exhale in a semi-dignified manner, squinting his eyes.

“What, because you’re the only teacher in Blantyre Academy who can perform?”

Potter, infuriatingly enough, laughed. “I didn’t perform. Melissa asked me to accompany her on the guitar, because her partner’s sick. It’s not like I volunteered or anything.”

“Yes, yes, because you’re the beloved Harry Potter, forever answering the call of duty.” Draco pushed off the old speakers he used as a seat, and nearly crashed into Potter, who was standing closer than necessary. There was hardly any light back here, and the buzz of preparation near the stage was distant enough. Or at least, with Potter standing right there, it was hard to focus on anything—erm. What? What was he thinking about? Oh, yes. Probably how he’d be making an absolute arse of himself, how he was about to ruin the Christmas talent show for everyone, all because—

“Hey.” Potter might have said something else, Draco couldn’t be sure. He was too stunned by the firm grip on his elbows, steadying while also melting his knees into candy floss. “Malfoy?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Draco said before he was sure. Then, “Well…”

Why were those green eyes so bloody warm? “Listen, you don’t have to go through with this. I didn’t mean to… it was just banter earlier, you know. I don’t think you’re a coward anymore. Far from it.”

“I do know when you’re joking, Potter. I’m not a complete idiot.” Just a total, absolute arse, and hell, why was Potter getting even closer? His face was inches away. All of Draco’s thoughts combusted into smoke.

“Then what are you doing? You have horrible stage fright.”

“I don’t… wait, how did you know that?”

It was hard to say in the darkness, but it seemed like Potter was blushing. “I, er. Heard. One of your lessons. Or, well, I stayed to watch a few rehearsals too. And I remember when Ian wouldn’t come onstage, because he was all nauseous and pale, and you told him you have—wait, you didn’t mean that?”

Draco desperately, desperately tried clinging to some shreds of his sanity. “What? Of course I… what?” he grabbed Potter by the collar, mostly because his legs just went liquid. “I hate the stage. The only reason I agreed to sub for Mr. Walker was—but it’s too late, now, I told them I’d do it. I have to.”

He was still holding Draco, Merlin knows why. He felt so warm, so close. “Why? The kids won’t hold it against you if you don’t.”

“Not for the kids.”

Potter was shaking slightly. Some curls came off his bun, and the livid mess screaming inside Draco’s head ached to tuck them behind his ear. He was losing his mind. “Not… for the kids?”

“No.” Draco couldn’t swallow the next words, no matter how much he tried. “Of course not.”

“Then for…?”

“Mr. Draco, you’re up!” Tessa came back, headset on, serious and taking no bullshit. Draco didn’t know how to feel; saved, maybe, from making a huge, terrible mistake; or robbed, maybe, of making the huge terrible mistake he’s been circling for months. Damn it, even his dog liked Potter, and Johan Rufferton liked no one. God.

Following Tessa to the stage was purely mechanical; Draco’s skin was still tingling with the memory of Potter’s touch, mind still trying to process the look on his face, just before he let go. Longing, almost. As if he… as if…

The blinding lights brought him smack back to the present. Draco blinked, swallowed hard. If he squinted he could see some of his colleagues in the front row, all cheering and smiling.

And if he looked to his left, he could see Potter, wearing the gentlest smile. As if he felt the same way, as if he wanted Draco to say those things, to make that mistake. A dare, almost. And Draco could never turn his back on a challenge... not when it came from him.

So he cleared his throat and grabbed the mic. Here goes nothing.

“The next song is for Mr—for Harry.”

It would have been another thing entirely if he’d planned it in advance, if he knew what he was doing. If he could bloody sing. But Potter’s laughter came choked with excitement, soft, glowing. Draco thought it might be worth it.

#drarry #fic #schoolteachers drarry anyone?#fluff #talent show #which song is Draco singing?#mystery and suspense (not really)#RockingRobin69

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pedrito-friskito · 3 years ago

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the way we were / the way we are - chapter 8 - these days are numbered

summary: time is a cruel mistress. she can ruin your life in the blink of an eye.

warnings: trauma (if you’ve seen the movie you know what’s coming)

a/n: this chapter I still remember writing. it made me cry. so there’s that.

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

January 1945

Time seems to pass in the blink of an eye. You’re aware of it, watching the war unfold before you, but it still doesn’t seem real, you still can’t believe where you are.

You write home often, give Jane and your parents what few details you can, assuring them you’re safe and alive, that Bucky is safe and alive, but that you still don’t know when you’ll be home again. You write to Becca and the rest of the Barnes clan too, keep them updated as best you can. There’s not a lot to share, but reassuring them that you’re both alive seems enough, for now.

You help Howard with Steve’s uniform, creating a more protective version of what he wore onstage, adding the carbon polymer Howard loves so much and a utility belt. As for the shield, Steve likes the design you’d drawn, and suggests some colour. Howard teaches you a bit about metalwork, and the finished product, complete with the perfect star in the centre, is an instant hit.

And the work doesn’t stop there. Howard has you working on new designs for the Howling Commandos – you’re not too keen on the name of Captain America’s top squad, but you keep that opinion to yourself mostly because Bucky gets a kick out of it – and you’re grateful to be of use. Steve appreciates your input and ideas, and Bucky can’t seem to get over how creative you are. “I was already in love with you,” he jokes, hovering over your shoulder one day while you work on a design for a new scope specifically for him. Your husband, the sharpshooter. “But this just takes it to another level.”

Steve’s shield had left some scraps of vibranium, and Howard wasn’t quite sure what to use it for, so he left it up to you. When the weather started to turn and Bucky returned from missions with frozen cheeks and a runny nose, you set to work designing a new jacket for him, using the metalwork skills Howard had taught you to create a series of thin vibranium plates to protect him from bullets and the like, and an extra layer of fleece to keep him warm.

Howard is immediately obsessed with the design, but the lack of vibranium puts him at a standstill. Most days in the lab, you hear him muttering to his assistants about potential deposits, or writing letters to geologists the world over about similar metals and where to find them.

You’re more than grateful to Howard. The work keeps you distracted and busy, especially when Steve and Bucky disappear for days or weeks at a time on missions that you mostly understand. Steve lets you in on the meetings, wants your input on plans and routes and best courses of action. It’s nice to be needed, and even nicer to feel useful.

It takes some time, but Peggy seems to forgive him for whatever it was that he did. He refuses to give you the whole story, and won’t even give Bucky all the details, but you notice the way Steve always seems to find something to preoccupy himself with when a certain blonde private makes her way into whatever room he’s in. Peggy had brushed off your questions with a hushed, “Captain Rogers is free to do whatever he chooses,” but you can tell she’s already forgiven him.

When they aren’t away on missions, your time is spent with Steve and Bucky, frequenting the bars and pubs around the bunker, letting them fill you in on what happened during their time away. The nights are spent in your room in the bunker, wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, each night leaving you more breathless than the last.

The steely glint in his eyes never truly goes away. It’s not always there, but you catch it in flashes, moments where his gaze moves somewhere else, his expression changing. It’s months after your initial reunion that he finally opens up, lets you in on what happened to him. The truth, he tells you, is that he has no idea, all he knows is that they injected him with…something, something that tried to take away pieces of him, but he fought back. And they found ways to hurt him.

“It was your face in my mind,” he tells you, “that kept me…me. I made you a promise, and I knew I couldn’t break it. I had to come home to you. I had to see you one last time.”

He mumbles in his sleep sometimes, bits and pieces that you can’t quite catch. That is, not until you catch him in some kind of trance after a mission debriefing, his eyes pure steel and his hands shaking.

“My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038. I live in New York. I’m married to Y/N Barnes. We have been married since March 9th, 1943.”

The other Commandos pay it little mind, but you can see Steve’s eyes following you as you cross the room to where Bucky stands, his arms braced against the wall of the bunker, knuckles vibrating against the brick.

“My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 3255-”

He stops when you lay a hand on his back, flinching and he whirls around. There are tears in his eyes, but when he realizes that it’s you, he nearly crumples to the floor, throwing his arms around you. He whispers your name over and over and over again, and you drape your arms around his neck, rubbing soothing circles across the top of his back.

“You’re okay,” you whisper. “You’re here. You’re safe. You’re okay. You’re home.”

He nods against your collar. “I’m home.”

After that, things seem to settle, for the most part. There’s still that strange glint in his eyes, but usually all it takes is a gentle touch from you to bring him back to himself, a hand on his arm or your lips on his cheek.

The Commandos are a success, running HYDRA factories and labs into the ground faster than Schmidt can have them rebuilt. Everything seems to be going according to plan.

Until it’s not.

It’s a normal day. As normal as one could expect during a world war, anyway. You finish up in the lab with Howard, departing with a smile and heading out of the bunker to join Bucky and Steve at the pub across the way. It’s a short trip, one you’ve made many times by now, both on your own and on Bucky’s arm, or Steve’s or Howard’s.

But this time is different. You can feel it the moment your shoes touch the sidewalk. You’re about to turn around, head back into the bunker, back to safety, when there’s a hard grip on your shoulder, a wet cloth pressed to you mouth.

The world goes black, and your mind goes with it.

Bucky’s watching the clock.

You’re usually done work with Stark by five o’clock, earlier towards the end of the week, and you’d told him before you’d left the room that morning that you’d meet him and Steve at the pub once you finished. There was some project Stark had you working on that made your eyes light up like the fourth of July, and Bucky couldn’t bear to pull you away from it before you were ready. It was a miracle he’d gotten you to sleep the night before; you’d talked and talked and talked, giving him every detail. He’d quieted you with his lips, and you’d gone pliant in his hands.

God, he loved you. Loves you. Doesn’t think he could ever stop loving you.

What had you said to each other, that night when you’d first walked back to the bunker together, after he’d seen you again for the first time, after so long apart?

Till death do us part?

I don’t think even death could take you from me.

The clock hits a quarter past five, and he’s twitching in his seat. The pub they’re in is less than a five minute walk from the bunker. His leg starts to jump, foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asks, following his sight line to the clock.

“She should be here by now,” he replies, jaw clenching. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Steve says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Probably just got caught up talking with Stark.”

But then Howard walks into the bar, glances over at the table he’s sharing with Steve, and his brow furrows. Bucky’s on his feet as Howard approaches the table, same confused expression on his face the whole way. “Y/N not here yet?” he asks, and Steve shakes his head. “She left before I did, figured she’d beat me here.”

Bucky’s off like a shot, sprinting from the bar and heading back towards the bunker as fast as his feet can carry him. Steve is hot at his heels, calling his name as he runs down the road. “Bucky, wait!”

He skids to a stop in front of the doors that lead to the bunker, looking around, every sense on high alert. Something is wrong.

That’s when he sees it, tucked away in the shadows, discarded like it had been kicked to the side. It glints back at him, shining in the dim light.

Your engagement ring.

He snatches it up off the pavement, and Steve is at his side, looking at what’s he’s found. “She-”

“She’s gone,” Bucky says simply, and stalks in the bunker, fury already pooling in his gut.

It doesn’t take long to figure out where you’ve been taken, and who’s taken you. Zola is not subtle in his actions, and the encoded messages between him and Schmidt are easily intercepted. He plans to take you back to Germany, and hand you over to Schmidt, who then plans to torture you for information before returning you to Zola for experimentation.

“They’re using her as bait,” he tells Steve. “To get me back. I saw the look on Zola’s face the night we escaped. He was shocked to see me alive. He wants his experiment back.”

“You’re not an experiment, Buck.”

“I am to him.” He swallows hard, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat. “But I don’t care. I don’t care what it takes, we have to get her back. We find her, and I put a bullet in Zola’s skull.”

It takes some coordination, and help from Agent Carter, but they find the location of the train Zola plans to transport you on. It’s like he’s walking around with blinders on; his only focus is finding you, bringing you home safe. Your engagement ring burns a hole in his pocket, and every so often, he pulls it out and just holds it in his palm. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.

This is a nightmare, he starts to think, as he’s following Steve up a snow-capped mountain, the railroad a dark snake through the white below. This is a nightmare, and he’s going to wake up any moment, find himself healthy and whole, back in Brooklyn with you, sprawled out on the mattress in the back room of Barnes & Noble.

The wind whips at his face, and he knows it’s all too real. The coat you designed keeps him warm, fuels the rage that hasn’t ebbed since he discovered you were gone.

They’d sent men ahead to set up a zip line that would allow them to drop easily onto the moving train, and looking at the drop makes his stomach fall into his feet. He’s never been a fan of heights; when you’d rode the ferris wheel on your first date, he was too preoccupied with the beautiful girl who’d agreed to go out with him.

And he doesn’t care now, despite the twist in his gut. You’re on that train. He has to get to you. Everything else is collateral.

You’ve never hated a man as ardently as you hate Armin Zola.

They’d kept you drugged, for the most part, only bringing you to the cusp of consciousness to force food and water down your throat. Zola had overseen the whole process, and when you did wake, he told stories.

He told you what he did to Bucky.

He detailed the torture, the screaming, how they’d broken his collarbone and watched it heal. How they’d pumped him full of all kinds of drugs, waited to see if he’d lose his mind, and the words he’d repeated to keep himself sane. That was how they had figured out who you were, and someone from deep inside the SSR had let slip your name to the wrong person.

“He was never meant to escape, you see,” Zola said, his Swiss accent thick as he paced the room they held you in. “When your dear friend Captain Rogers became the…man he is today, Schmidt tasked me with a recreation. Your husband was the first one to survive my serum, so you can imagine how important it is that he is returned to me.”

You’d tried to scream at him, tried to yell and thrash and spit in his face, but a needle slipped into the crook of your arm and the dark returned.

When you come to again, you’re bound and gagged, tucked behind a crate on a train car. They’d changed you out of what you’d been wearing the day you were taken, and into a thin hospital gown. Your feet are bare and the metal beneath you is cold and unforgiving. Your teeth chatter around the gag in your mouth.

There are a few guards watching over you, both of them dressed head to toe in black armour. The helmets they wear show no trace of their eyes, but you have that creeping feeling that their gaze is glued to you.

“We have been ordered to watch you,” one of them says, and his voice is robotic, emotionless, and sends a chill down your spine. “Dr. Zola says you are important.”

You inhale sharply. This is not good.

Silently, you prayed Bucky had found your ring.

It had been a long shot, you knew. You’re still not sure where the thought came from, but as soon as you had felt hands on you, as soon as the cloth touched your lips, you fingers had slipped to your ring, and as the darkness overtook you, you’d yanked it from your knuckle, dropping it to the ground as the hands dragged you off.

You’re not religious by any stretch, but sitting there on that train car, you clasp your hands together and pray to whoever is listening.

The trip down the line and onto the back of the train makes his stomach do backflips, but he doesn’t notice. The cold is even worse standing on the back of the moving train, the wind snapping at his face, but he doesn’t care. He has one mission here. You.

They make it inside the train, greeted by two guards that Steve takes down easily, the shield ricocheting off the walls and striking them both unconscious. Into the next car, another two guards, one that he downs with two shots. The other shoots in his direction, and he ducks behind a crate, the bullet bouncing off the metal behind his head. He stays in cover, but lunges around the crate when he hears the guard stop to reload his gun and puts a bullet in the guard’s head.

The body falls to the ground, and then he catches sight of a bare foot sticking out from behind another crate a few feet ahead of him. Steve is crouched there, using the knife from his belt to cut through the ropes binding your wrists. Bucky scrambles forward, nearly tripping over his boots as he rounds the crate.

His eyes land on you, your eyes red with tears and a cloth gag in your mouth. Steve is pulling the rope from your hands, and Bucky’s knees give out immediately, hands reaching for your face and pulling the gag from your mouth.

“Baby.” He gathers you into his arms as soon as you’re free, pulling you against his chest. You’re shivering, and your grip is strong around him, your hands holding onto his jacket tightly.

“Bucky,” you breathe out, your body falling against his, tears fresh down your cheeks.

He holds you at arm’s length, inspecting you as best as he can, and then holds you close again and kisses you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I’m so, so sorry.” Your eyes are bright, you look like you, and he’s glad. They didn’t hurt you the way they hurt him. You were okay.

Your reunion is cut short as the door behind Steve is blasted apart by blue energy, revealing a heavily armed guard on the other side of the door, gun in hand smoking menacingly. Steve scrambles in front of you, lifting the shield as the guard shoots again.

The blast bounces off the vibranium and blows a large hole in the side of the train. Harsh cold wind whips through the car and all three of you are blasted backward. Steve is thrown against the wall, you’re catapulted into one of the crates, and Bucky is sent dangerously close to the hole in the train. The shield clatters to the ground between you. “Fire again!” he hears Zola’s voice from somewhere.

Steve lets out a groan, injured but alive, and Bucky searches for you, reaching for the shield. His eyes finally find you, sprawled beneath the crate. There’s blood on your face, marks on your bare arms, but your eyes blink open and he breathes out in relief.

He hears the whir of the gun charging up again and lurches to his feet, shield brandished in front of him. He lifts his gun, aiming for the guard’s head and-

It all happens in an instant.

The guard fires the gun. The blast hits the shield, sends both it and Bucky flying towards the hole in the train. The shield bounces to the ground at your feet, but Bucky’s body flies out the opening, his hands reaching for the twisted metal. Steve charges to his feet, grabbing his shield and launching it at the guard with a grunt. The guard is thrown back into the next car, and Steve rushes for the side of the opening.

“Bucky!” you hear him yell, his voice panicked.

All you can do is watch as Steve disappears out the side of the train.

You shouldn’t be able to hear it, but you do.

“Hang on!” Steve yells. A pause, a howl of wind. “Grab my hand!”

There’s the awful creak of metal, and then Bucky is screaming.

He’s screaming, he’s screaming and the noise is echoing in your head.

An instant. A single moment in time, and that noise is everything you hoped you would never hear. A noise you would never forget as long as you lived.

The metal creaks again, giving out beneath Steve’s weight, and he throws himself back into the train. There’s…agony in his expression, and his eyes are wet when his gaze meets yours.

“No,” you hear yourself say. Your limbs seem to move at their own accord, yanking you to your free and stumbling across the train, reaching for the edge.

Steve yells your name, and then his arm shoots out for your knees, pulling you back against him and sprawling to the floor. Your hand hangs outstretched towards the open air, trying to get out of Steve’s grip, but he holds you easily.

“No!”

It’s a few days before Steve has a battle plan.

You’d spent a day in the infirmary, at Steve’s insistence, but you were ready to go. You wanted to get ready. You warned to come up with a plan. You wanted to kill Johann Schmidt. Or help Steve do it.

“You’re not strong enough, Y/N,” Steve protested. “You saw what those weapons did to the train. You can’t go and get yourself killed just because-”

“Because what?” you shot back. “Because he’s gone?”

Steve had gone silent, and hadn’t said a word when you slipped into the room as he was discussing his battle plan, replaying orders to the Commandos. Howard and Colonel Phillips stood in the room as well, listening in. Every head had turned in your direction as you’d walked through the door, then they turned back to Steve, but he all he said was, “she stays.”

You didn’t know how to explain it to him. You couldn’t get the words to form properly. You’re not strong enough, he’d said, but you felt strong enough. You felt like you could move mountains with your anger.

You could do it. You were strong enough.

Towards the end of the meeting, one of the Commandos, Jim Morita stood up and asked, “So what are we supposed to do? I mean, it’s not like we can just knock on the front door.”

Steve’s head had snapped up, his gaze meeting yours across the room. “Why not?” he’d said. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”

Despite your persistent demands to join, Steve still refuses to bring you along. “Let me do this,” he says to you. The look in his eyes breaks your heart, and you nod, but you’re quick enough that no one notices you slip out the door.

You know Steve’s plan, and so, after he allows himself to be captured by Schmidt’s men, no one pays you any mind as you slip into the base, too preoccupied with the super soldier they’ve managed to capture. Phillips, Peggy, and more soldiers than you can count enter the base behind you. No one sees you slip into the hangar where the Valkyrie sits, holding bombs the size of fighter planes.

You were on the Valkyrie before Schmidt even boarded, and had hidden yourself well. He’d blown right past you and turned on the engine.

You heard Steve break onto the ship, heard the shouts of men, bodies falling against metal. You watched in terror as one of the pilots jumped into the missile’s cockpit and dropped it from the Valkyrie. Schmidt fired at the plane, it wound it’s way underneath the larger ship.

Then, from your vantage point, you watched Steve sneak into the cockpit of the plane and battle Johann Schmidt. You had to scramble out of the way more than once, but you were fast enough that neither of the men noticed you.

When the nose of the plane dips to nearly ninety degrees, your head is thrown back against the metal wall behind you hard, and your vision goes black.

You come to a few minutes later, blinking your eyes open, your head pounding. You can hear the whoosh of the air outside the plane, and hear Steve’s voice. “I gotta put her in the water.”

Peggy’s voice crackles through the radio, but you don’t make it out.

“We’ll have the band play somethin’ slow,” you hear him say. “I’d hate to step on you-”

The plane hits the ice with a resounding crash. One of the engines explodes in a blur of flames. The whole thing lurches sideways, cracking down towards the ice water below. You hear the smash of glass, the rush of water, and you open your mouth.

“Steve!”

“Y/N?”

More glass shatters, and the plane shifts again. You’re plunged into the coldest water you’ve ever felt in your life. In a flash, it wraps around you like an icy blanket.

The last thought through your mind is Bucky’s face.

#the way we were / the way we are #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier fic #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x y/n #my fics

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland request #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader

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floraltypes · 4 years ago

Text

Kyoya Comforting His GF

it’s kyoya x fem!reader just because they wear a dress, but if ur fine with that then it can be gender neutral . (hope that makes sense)

unedited

Outside of the prestigious Ouran Highschool, it was raining harshly. It looked like no one was going to be leaving the building too soon, anyone who had any after school activities were commanded to stay longer.

The school couldn’t risk these special heirs to get hurt, offering food for if they were hungry while waiting for the rain to stop.

The Host Club were having a off day, just joining together after school to discuss next weeks theme. But because of the students staying, they decided to open up last minute, causing more stress onto Kyoya. He was able to make Tamaki and the others dress up in costumes from musicals, making that the theme with things the twins found in the music room.

You had just finished your theatre practice, pulling up your coat and staring out of one of the larger windows, almost admiring how gorgeous the rain looked on this day. Contemplating on seeing how your boyfriend was doing.

Kyoya and you met through his father. Your father was a owner of a very successful technology company, so with new projects the Ootoris and L/n worked closely.

Somehow, you and Kyoya just clicked. You had a certain presence that set him at ease, that felt he could truly trust you and confide in you, he could take a breath and be himself.

You felt that you could be more of yourself, being a shyer person he made you feel more confident. Kyoya always encouraged you to work towards your dreams, not stressing on your future as a heir and more as yourself. (He can’t talk much since he mostly does the same, but it’s the thought that counts).

Kyoya didn’t tell people about you, as of your request. For a long time you went to a different school, just recently transferring, and having a lot of nerves with being new and having a famous father. You decided to hide yourself a bit more, taking on your mothers last name, and not yet telling everyone your dating a powerful mans son, maybe the next heir.

Putting in some earbuds, turning on one of the songs you had been practicing for the show. You started to hum to it a bit, picking up your books and walking away from the window to try and find a empty space.

Soon a fellow classmate appeared from behind the doors, quickly catching your presence and rushing your way.

When you first joined the first year class, she befriended you, realizing you were much kinder than others were in the beginning, and after chatting more, she realized you really were a fun person to be around.

“Y/n-san!” She exclaimed, rushing over to you with flowers in her hand. “How was your theater club?”

“It was nice, practiced my song today,” You nodded to her, a small smile present on your face. “Are you still in that one club?”

“Yes, actually, do you think you could help me find a radio? Tamaki-senpai wants me to play some music and I don’t have anything,” She complained and you agreed. The both of you travelled to the music room, finding a radio that worked well and could play the music wished.

When coming upon the Music Room 3 doors you decided to go in and try to help her set up the music system. Haurhi was very grateful for all your help, thanking you and offering to get you some tea.

“No, no it’s fine,” You shook your head, waving you hands. “I think I’m just going to go and get some extra practice in,”

“Hey, isn’t that the one girl,” Hikaru nudged his brother, pointing over to where you were talking with Haruhi.

“Oh, yeah, she’s so shy,”

“Mhm, do you know what I’m thinking?” Hikaru turned towards his brother, both of their lips lifting into mischievous smiles.

“Haruhi!” Tamaki called, giddily skipping over with a large smile. “Is this your friend, she’s so cute!” He walked over to you, pinching your cheeks while Haruhi tried to push him away. “You could have just asked, it will be fun, the twins already picked out a outfit!” He smiled and the twins rushed over, grabbing you and shoving you into a changing room.

“Y/n!” Haruhi muttered, truly confused at what Tamaki was saying. “Tamaki-senpai, what are you talking about?”

“They told me your friend wanted to dress up as one of us, since she’s in the theater group herself and that’s our theme today. They said you were to shy to ask- Oh I swear, those devils!” His face morphed into a angry expression, going to go give the twins a piece of his mind before you stepped out of the dressing room.

You were wearing a beautiful purple gown, somehow it made you look amazing, hugging you in all the right places. You loved the dress, but not all the eyes that fell on you.

“Wow who’s that?”

“Are they adding a female host?”

“Takashi look at her!”

“Y/n?” Kyoya questioned, looking up from his notebook and standing up. You were frozen in place, not expecting all this attention, forgetting how many people really were in the room.

“Tamaki-senpai!” Haruhi yelled, now sticking her finger in his face. “She’s really shy, doesn’t like all the attention, tell everyone to give her space,” Haruhi scolded, moving over by you.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Kyoya asked, walking up to you and having a somewhat softer expression.

“Kyoya-senpai, I know she shouldn’t have dressed u- wait how do you know her?” Haruhi wondered.

“How could I not?” He asked back, almost as if it was obvious. “Are you feeling okay, dear?” He looked back at you, taking your hand in his.

“Dear?!” Haruhi repeated, looking as if she would have a heart attack.

“Daddy has a girlfriend?!” Tamaki waltzed over, clutching his heart as if he was heartbroken.

“How does he even have one?” Hikaru inquired.

“The guy doesn’t even have a heart, how could he love someone?” Kaoru added.

“She’s so cute Kyo-chan!” Honey commented, a bright smile on his face. “Want to have some cake with me?”

“I was just trying to set up some music, not get dressed up,” You commented, still trying to calm yourself with all the people that were now surrounding.

Luckily for you and the group, a announcement was made that the rain had let up and families were sending staff to pick up their children. So everyone was to report to their original club rooms.

Kyoya was able to walk you over to a empty table while Haruhi made some tea, the both wanting to try and help calm your nerves. You accepted the tea graciously and the other club members slowly made their way over to you, now understanding and wanting to be careful.

“That was truly rude of you twins, and Tamaki,” Kyoya commented, sitting by you on the couch.

“Please don’t kill us!” The three yelled.

“It’s okay Kyoya,” You smiled at your boyfriend, placing the teacup down. “They didn’t know, I have to build up my courage anyways for the performance,”

“You should still proceed carefully, it hurts to see you scared my dear,” He told you, his voice soft, and hand intertwined with his while you moved closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you. It’s still nice to be introduced to all of your friends!”

“You should’ve come around sooner,”

“Theatre practice has been very busy, I was able to get the lead so their has been a lot more work to do,” You mentioned.

“You do theatre, I like to think I’m a amazing actor!” Tamaki beamed. “Look at my costume and looks, I truly do fit the part,”

“Uh, sure,” You laughed. “I also have to do this one part with a classmate, it’s a sweet part,”

“Well I’m looking forward to seeing it,” Kyoya smiled to you, kissing your forehead sweetly. He did it without thinking, without remembering his surroundings, and quickly felt his face flush.

When it came time for your performance. You were all dressed up, makeup and hair perfectly fitting the character you were portraying. The Host Club were all overjoyed to see you up there.

Throughout the weeks that followed the day you met them you all became close. They all tried to make you feel comfortable and gain more confidence for when you were to preform.

Seeing you on stage brought a smile to all of their faces. You looked like you were really being yourself and having fun, they clapped and cheered at all the appropriate moments. Kyoya even was a bit more ecstatic than usual.

It was nearing the end of the play and you were onstage with the other love interest throughout the story. He moved closer, wrapping hands around your waist and pulling you closer, than reaching a hand to cup your cheek and placing on long kiss onto your cheeks. The curtains closed and all of the Host Club members were looking at the scowl present on Kyoya’s face, scooting away a little.

After the play, the seven hosts were invited backstage, to meet the cast and celebrate the successful performance with them. Kyoya quickly made his way to you, giving you a large hug and seeing you talk to the love interest in the show. He then kissed you, the other boy running off and you laughing afterwards.

Little did this jealous Kyoya know was that this was only the first performance, you still had five more to go!

#ouran kyoya #kyoya x reader #kyoya senpai #ouran x reader #ouran hshc #ouran high school host club #ouran anime #ouran academy #ohshc x reader #ohshc fic #ohshc fanfiction #ohshc kyoya #ohshc haruhi

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phantomtrader19 · 4 years ago

Text

Phantom of the opera 1st & 3rd preview review

PART 1

Auction - I was absolutely overjoyed to see the chandelier onstage!! I personally loved the new set, it was sad to see the angel had gone but I’m so glad they put the homage to Maria bjornson in the centre where the angel was as seen below (it’s modelled after Maria I overheard)

The cloth covered piece behind the chandelier is a broken middle section of the inner proscenium that when the overture starts re-assembles and rises into place absolutely stunning addition!!

some words were changed

“Lot 666, a chandelier until recently believed to be destroyed... *normal lyrics* “Our workshops have restored it and fitted it with wiring for the new electric light so that we may get a hint of how magnificent it will look when re-assembled” so like the restaged tour lyrics.

Standard auction really not much change but haunting as always!

Overture - perhaps a new sound system? But the overture was absolutely thunderous and I was LIVING for it, lighting design is new and a lot more flashes of light which upped the dramatic feel to it! The chandelier was new and I thought it looked absolutely wonderful it certainly didn’t disappoint it’s a lot bigger than the original which was a cool change. The curtains rose like before and the inner section of the proscenium was sort of like a centre piece and as the overture gets to the middle part where the music sort of slows then dramatically picks back up again (I hope I’ve explained that okay 😂) the dust covers on everything are very swiftly removed and it looks beautiful. The audience went crazy for the overture and it was just amazing to witness!

Hannibal - Saori’s cadenza was so fierce and you could tell she was having a blast up there! Again she got an applause as she came out on stage. The ensemble was fabulous as expected costumes again all the same but fresher as they were all brand new or from the uk tour 2020. Christine doesn’t come out with the ballet girls she joins just before they all do that lovely en pointe section which Lucy does as she is a trained dancer as well! A couple ballet girls now wear their wigs in curlers and tied up in ribbons to give that extra feel of a dress rehearsal which I’m still to figure out if I liked. Yukina Hasebe one of the ballerinas wears a black wig in a plaited ponytail with a black fringe which was interesting but they all wear their regular degas wigs the rest of the show. Everything else remained relatively the same.

Think of me (Carlotta) nothing different I don’t think, Saori sounds brilliant she’s so sassy I love her! Her tantrum is brilliant as she’s so tiny and all this anger bursts out of her it’s really funny!

Lily was also absolutely divine in this part aswell gorgeous voice and good comedic timing.

Greg Castiglioni has a nice voice but not too convinced on his portrayal as piangi not my fave but not bad! (I miss Paul tabone so much!)

Think of me (Christine) My heart was pounding as the piano started I was so eager and excited to hear Lucy safe to say she doesn’t disappoint she’s so radiant and has the voice of a bell, her cadenza is the movie cadenzas but higher and it was fantastic Think of me was much the same but again the set looked so bright and new it really was gorgeous, I absolutely love the new addition of the mini proscenium inside the outer one it frames the stage just beautifully! Rhys’ part was great aswell lovely voice :)

Angel of music - much the same again, the ballerinas have a bar where they practise upstage left which was a nice touch. Lyric change to -

Meg - “your face Christine, so strange”

Christine - “I’m changing Meg”

Meg - “No one’s changing”

In the third preview the lyrics changed to

Christine - “he’s with me even now”

Meg - “Your hands are cold”

Christine - “all around me”

Meg - “Christine are you alright”

Christine - “it frightens me”

Meg - “don’t be frightened”

So reverted back to something similar to the original lyrics! Ellie is a lovely Meg and her wig is auburn and it looks lovely!

Dressing room - everything the same

The mirror - everything the same again killian has a great voice and sounded very threatening! when the phantom brings Christine through the mirror Raoul calls out angel and instead of the title song beginning the music continues into a dramatic swell no where near as long as the restaged tour though.

Title song - Raoul leaves the dressing room as the title song begins and the ballerinas walk onstage congregate round Raoul and then they all walk off as Lucy and Killian appear on the bridge so no more doubles a bit of a restaged tour moment again I’m still to figure out how I felt. There seems to be extra set pieces like flat cutouts of staircases which move with the bridge which I really enjoyed, I think it added more depth to the stage.

The first preview the candles on the candelabras were poking out of the floor as they usually did and Lucy and killian appeared on the boat and however the candelabras didn’t rise which was confusing however they did in the third preview apparently it was a technical malfunction so I was very happy to see it fixed as the lair looked really bare without them.

I Have brought you - nothing different

Music of the night - mostly the same but it was like the phantom could put Christine to sleep when he sung close your eyes her eyes closed and she seemed to kind of lose consciousness it was a really nice touch to see how much control the phantom had over Christine. The catch is gone now :(

The morning after/ I remember - again the same

Stranger than you dreamt it - Lucy’s acting in this scene was just out of this world you can tell her Christine was absolutely horrified by the sight of the deformity and killian was fantastic!

Magical lasso - same as normal

Notes/ prima Donna - exact same as before except i don’t know if it was just me but the curtain behind the manager’s desk seemed a lot larger which was nice as it filled up a bit more of the empty space. Raoul wore a brown bow tie for this scene. Saori and Lily both were fantastic in prima donna would love to see lily again and will most likely be seeing Saori anyway in my upcoming visits. Rhys was really good in this song he was very clever and lovely belt. Francesca Ellis is definitely a standout in the show her voice is so unique unlike any other I’ve ever heard her acting is also 10/10! Managers I think could work on their timing for the comedic parts but that’s the only complaint Matt and Adam are great otherwise :)

Il Muto - lovely to see Manon Taris back on stage and James Hume and I want to say Hywel Dowsell were amusing to watch aswell! Saori and Edward court as Don Atillio were great Lucy was so cute as Serafimo!

The ballet - all the ballerinas were gorgeous! And the male ballet dancer was fantastic! Andre was trembling like crazy when trying to introduce the ballet and engaged with the audience quite a bit which was fun, the ballerinas screamed a lot when they noticed the phantoms shadow on the backdrop and the music had a build up behind the actual original score which made the reveal of buquet’s body more dramatic!

The Rooftop - Lucy looked gorgeous in her rooftop costume! She seemed genuinely distressed and her acting again just shone through, Rhys at the beginning was giving me Hadley Fraser/ restaged tour vibes coming off as dismissive of Christinebut he begins to soften Lucy’s soar was sublime probably one of the best I’ve heard it just floated from her!!!

All I ask of you - Rhys and Lucy had a lot of chemistry and she was beaming from ear to ear when Rhys sung to her. Beautifully done

All I ask of you reprise - the controversial Pegasus.... would it have been nice for the phantom to appear on top of the angel? Yes, is the Pegasus statue THAT bad absolutely not it was beautiful! Killian was fab! Loved the sustained note on “when he heard you siiiiiiinggggggggg” liked a lot!!!

CHANDELIER CRASH WAS SO COOL, killian appeared in box five and shot sparks from his staff essentially shooting the chandelier down. It crashed like it did in the original and swung really fast over the audience and made an explosion noise which was changed at the third preview the music sort of rumbled instead of the explosion which worked better as the explosion was rather odd since the chandelier didn’t collapse or like the restaged tour chandelier spew fake glass.

INTERVAL The blue curtain is GORGEOUS

#phantomoftheopera #poto london #poto #phantom of the opera #holly anne hull #lucy st. louis #killian donnelly #rhys whitfield #saori oda #poto west end revival #her majesty’s theatre #west end #review #previews

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novelconcepts · 3 years ago

Note

Looks like I hit the tipping point with this story, as it's now incredibly difficult to do anything other than sit here and read it. Also, chapter 7 may be my favorite so far, courtesy of Jamie and Dani escaping a label party. Here we go:

Enter Jamie the Storyteller, stage Right.

“Phantom of Us?” Love the way you find all of these opportunities to sneak in just a little bit of creepy here and there. But I also love this album concept, because my favorite way to organize a concert program is to look at the music we’ve got and figure out what story we want to tell.

“Rebecca Jessel’s marriage is sixty percent rage, forty percent sex—and it shows in her lyrics.” This is a great line that leaves me caught somewhere between feeling terrible about what Rebecca’s gotten herself into and being really intrigued by the music of it.

I like this entire bit where Jamie and her magic are fighting over Dani. One, because it’s always delightful to see how bad these two have it for each other, but also because I enjoy seeing how you weave the love/possession theme—a critical aspect of Jamie and Dani’s relationship—into every universe you drop them into.

“Jamie finds herself much happier, lingering on the shine of her eyes and the curl of her fingers around the empty glass, than she’d been in nearly an hour of needling conversation with the men who sign her checks.” These tiny little snippets of “this is what being in love feels like” are just so good. Rapt fascination with the way your beloved holds a glass? That’s the good stuff.

Oh man, this whole thing, from the moment they flee to the garden through the hotel room, is just beautiful. It’s got this absolutely captivating dreamlike quality to it. Felt like I was holding my breath the entire time. You do this so, so well.

But also, “or at tucking their ugliness away in a trunk intended for rough waters.” 👀

I think you also get at the paradox of the love/possession thing quite well—that Jamie sort of does own Dani, but only in the sense that Dani has given herself freely. So Jamie has her, even though—or precisely because—she would never lay claim to her. Does that make sense? I’m still a little punch-drunk at all your beautiful word-ing in this chapter.

“One paid to look right, speak right, do everything—

‘—right there,’ Dani gasps. ‘Right—Jamie—‘“ Haha tremendous transition.

I like the fact that Jamie has clearly thought through what she will—and won’t—do or be onstage, and that she feels compelled to lay it all out for someone else before she ever steps under the lights. There’s a seeking of accountability in the admission that just seems important to me.

I hadn’t expected Jamie’s magic to be so reluctant to come forward with their relationship. Somehow it’s much less surprising—but grimly amusing—that Jamie agrees to a feature piece so quickly mostly to spite it.

It’s fascinating to me that Peter immediately jumps to the conclusion that the hidden track is some sort conspiracy of the whole group against him—I can’t decide if it tells us more about his own hidden demons or just his massive ego.

“Now, the magic breathes, you see. This is where you were always meant to be. Not to own or be owned, but to be together.” This really highlights how far Jamie has come with regard to reintegrating her magic in a healthy way (as opposed to tryin to shove it into a locked trunk in the corner of her mind). We see it finally in her best inclinations, and not just her worst. Although, like Jamie, I’m a little wary of it…

❤️ If I remember correctly, seven was what I was writing when we actually moved, and everything after just sort of unfurled like a roller coaster going downhill. Curious to see if the reading process will feel the same, but either way, delighted to find out.

#ask #kind writing words #fic talk #the whole purpose of that story was to play more animatedly with the love/possession elements #and to have a little of the darkness in Jamie’s experience with that bleed into the more mature chill version of her #it was a lot of fun

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tommodirection · 4 years ago

Text

Galway Girl

Louis Tomlinson x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: swearing, fiddles, smoking, drinking, wasn’t proofread, written in thirty minutes

A/N: Heylo! This is my first fic for One Direction, so please don’t be mean! This is based off of the song Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran, and for the purpose of this fic, the some writers have been changed! Thank you, and have a nice day!

—

“Mate, listen, I know you’re gunna love it!” Niall assured Louis, gently hitting his shoulder.

Louis sighed, shaking his head, “Niall, I really don’t feel like going out,” he argued, and Niall shook his head.

“This is the one time we get to spend together, in years, and you want to sit around all day? This is Ireland! The best country in the world!” Niall threw his hands up in the air as Louis cringed.

“It is definitely not the best country in the world,” Louis grumbled.

Niall seemed to ignore him, and continued talking. “They have the best beer at this place I wanna go to, it’s just down the street! Karaoke is open too!”

Louis stared at Niall, “You really expect me to sing karaoke?”

Niall shrugged, “I don’t know, if not, there’s a buncha games and there’s an amazing band there, some of the best Irish jig music I’ve ever heard,” he reached his hand out to Louis.

Louis stared at his hand for a moment. He glanced up at the hopeful Niall, and sighed. “Fine,” he grabbed Niall’s hand and he pulled him up.

“This is gunna be great!”

—

You laughed as one of your band mates made a joke regarding the upcoming show. You were going over your notes again, nervous despite having played this hundreds of times.

You grabbed your bow and fiddle, and began playing as the band continued to joke. You moved gracefully, as you did every time you played. Your normal show would normally contain mostly slow songs, so your fiddle sounded more like a violin, but tonight, it was all upbeat.

Word had gotten round that Niall Horan was coming to the pub tonight. Another thing adding to your nerves. All of you wanted to impress him, which is why you were surprised the others weren’t practicing.

“Ey! Y/N! What are ya doing that for?” Fiona, the lead singer, called out to you. “You’re the best fiddler I know, you don’t ‘ave to worry bout it!” She complimented and you set your fiddle down, wiping your hands on your thighs.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you admitted and she shook her head.

“You’ve got nothin’ to be worried bout, love,” Fiona was a bit intimidating. Her accent was the thickest in the bands. You had only recently moved to Ireland a few years ago, you’d barely developed an accent, although you had certainly developed a taste for Guinness.

“Yeah, I guess I just need something to drink,” you paused. “Jamie, will you get me something to drink?” You asked your brother, and he nodded, setting down his guitar.

While you had joined the band, he continued on as a solo act. He was playing after you guys were finished, and you had invited him to join you before the show.

He left the room, leaving you and your band alone. Nancy and Eli began a quiet conversation, leaving you and Fiona.

“Are ya nervous cause of the famous singer comin’ down tonight?” She asked, sitting down across from you.

You nodded, brushing hair out of your face. You were only a little older than Niall, about a year. You were a fan of One Direction from the start. Despite living in Ireland when the band was formed, your favorite wasn’t Niall. It was Louis.

You had been infatuated with his accent, his humor making you fall even deeper. He has a certain air to him, and seeing him become more and more exhausted over the years hurt you. He wasn’t as flamboyant as he used to be, you had a feeling Simon Cowell had something to do with it.

“Well,” Fiona interrupted your thoughts, “I ‘eard that he’s bringin’ a mate with ‘im,” you squinted at her, trying to figure out where she was going with it. “Look at it this way. “E’ll be chatting’ it up with ‘is mate, ‘e won’t even be listenin’,” she finished, leaning back in her chair.

Your brother walked in seconds later, handing you your pint. Maybe Fiona was right. Sure, a part of you didn’t want her to be right, but it did calm your nerves a little.

You took a big swing out of your pint, swallowing it down in seconds.

Fiona stood and made her way across the room, peeking behind the makeshift curtain. Her eyes locked on something, and she quickly turned to the rest of you, giving a thumbs up. Showtime.

You gave your brother a quick hug, and grabbed your fiddle, making your way onstage with the others. Nancy counted you into, and you began to play.

Typically when you were playing, you’d go into a trace, focusing on your music, and nothing else. It was your zone. It made it seem as there was no one else in the room.

You finished the first set of two, and gave a content chuckle, looking at Fiona do a mocking catwalk up and down the stage.

You glanced around the crowd, trying to see if you could get a glimpse of the brunette singer, but it was hard to seem with the lights in your face.

Not even considering the front row, you began smiling at each person who was sitting there, and as Fiona talked, you sat on the edge of the small stage, waving at some people in the audience. Your eyes scammed over the audience again, and this time, your heart stopped.

Niall Horan was clapping, smiling as Fiona told the crowds some jokes. That wasn’t the most shocking part though.

Fucking Louis Tomlinson was sat behind him.

You get your cheeks heat up, your heart racing. There was no fucking way.

Yet there he was, a small smile settled on his lips as he watched the stage. His eyes ran over each member, before settling on you. You felt your breath hitch, and you gave a small little wave, although your hand was slightly trembling, so it probably looked pathetic.

It shocked you even more when he waved back, your mouth dropped and you sat for a few more moments, looking directly into his eyes. They were the most delicate shade of blue.

A gentle nudge to your side threw your out of your trance. You broke eye contact with Louis and looked up quickly. Fiona was looking down at you, a small smirk on her face.

“‘Ow bout we finish up now, yeah?” She teased and you stood up abruptly, racing over to pick up your fiddle.

This was the song you were most nervous about.

After catching wind that Niall was going to be here, your band decided to play a One Direction song. The only song that could easily fit a fiddle in it, was Act My Age, one you knew to be one of Niall’s favorites.

Within the first few seconds of the song, you saw Niall’s face light up.

Your first solo came up, the classic Irish jig, and Niall stood up, and began doing his dance. He motioned for Louis to join him.

Louis was laughing his ass off, holding a hand to his stomach. He continuously shook his head, until Niall hauled him to his feet.

He kept laughing and you found it hard to focus, being able to hear his laugh despite the adrenaline pulsing through your ears.

On your second to last solo, Louis finally caved, and he and Niall both were dancing, Louis’s moves a bit clumsy. Niall was nailing it though, although you had assumed he had a lot of practice, and Louis had very little.

Soon after the song, your performance ended, earning a standing ovation from the crowd. The band bowed and made their way behind the curtain again.

Fiona turned to the group, squealing and opening her arms for a group hug. You all were squished in and shortly after the hug, the teasing began.

Eli looked you up and down, chucking. “I’m surprised she didn’t drop her panties right then and there,” he poked your side and you gasped.

“Eli!” You scolded and he shrugged.

“‘E has a point, love. I coulda sworn ya were gunna mess up yer solo when you were watchin’ the other one dancin’,” she chided and you groaned, throwing your head in your hands.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you stood, grabbing an empty glass, “I’m gunna go get a drink.” You swiftly exited the room, not wanting any more embarrassment.

You stood at the bar, placing the empty pint down. You flagged down the bartender and asked for another, and you felt someone slide in next to you.

“Put it on our tab,” he told the bartender, and he nodded, quickly going to fix another drink.

You turned to the stranger who had just bought your drink, and your knees almost gave out.

“I-I, uhm, Louis, hi!” You exclaimed, sticking your hand out. He took it and gave it a little squeeze.

“You put on quite an amazing show, loved every second of it,” he smiled at you, a genuine smile.

You glanced down at your feet, and looked back into his eyes quickly. They were admiring your face, and you felt yourself blush under his gaze.

“Thank you, it means a lot,” you gave him a bashful smile and drummed your fingers on the table. “What was your favorite song?” These were typical questions you’d ask a normal person after your show, but Louis was far from normal.

He paused to think, tapping his finger against his chin, “I really loved Act My Age, but I did love the original song,” he squinted, trying to remember , “I think it said something like, ‘I wanna be mature, I wanna grow some more’ or something like that?” He suggested and your heart fluttered.

“Yeah, that’s one that I wrote a while ago called ‘Mature’. Fiona really loves it, and it’s one of my favorite songs to perform,” you admitted shyly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, it’s always nice to perform something you wrote, gives you a sense of pride, I guess,” he agreed and you nodded.

You heard a song come on over the jukebox. And your eyes lit up. (Yes, a jukebox. They’d play that music in between shows so they’d last all night). “I love this song!” You laughed and began humming along.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before,” you watched him try and rack his brain.

“It’s an old Gaelic song, one my mum used to sing to me,” you commented and continued humming.

“This might sound like an odd suggestion, but do you maybe wanna play some games?”

And that’s how you ended up where you were. You had just beaten him at darts, you weren’t at all surprised.

He got to choose the next game to play, and he chose pool, a game you had gotten pretty good at over the years. You decided not to say anything, and let the game play out.

That game ended pretty quickly, the same result as the last one.

“Damn,” Louis chuckled, and put his pool stick back in its holder. “You’re pretty good at these games.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “Well when you play here every weekend, you learn the bar pretty well. And getting to know the bar, means getting to know the games.

He laughed lightly, pulling a box out of his pocket, “I’ve got to go take a smoke quick, you wanna come?” He offered, and you happily obliged, following him out of the bar, your brother’s music playing lightly in the background.

You both stepped out into the crisp night air, inhaling at the breath of fresh air. Louis pulled a lighter out of his pocket, lighting his cigarette and pulling it to his lips, taking a long drag from it.

As he breathed out, it vaporized into the air, the scent already sticking to your clothing.

He offered you the cigarette, and you took a small drag, holding back a cough as you let it out. You only smoked when you were stressed, a habit you’d been trying to break, but you figured you could make an exception for Louis Tomlinson.

After he had finished his cigarette, he allowed you to crush it, putting it out on the sidewalk. You both eyed the door, before looking back at each other.

“I don’t really wanna go back in,” you hinted. And he nodded.

“Me neither.”

“Will Niall notice you’re gone?” You asked, wanting to get away from here with him.

Louis chuckled lowly, “No, he’ll be preoccupied with that little blonde friend of yours.”

You knew Fiona was going home with someone tonight, it wasn’t surprising.

“My place is just down the road. If you wanna head there,” you nodded your head down the road towards your flat.

Louis grinned, “You lead the way, love.”

You grabbed his hand and began running down the street, passing though little crowds and trying to not fall on the road.

You stopped outside of your place, and turned to face Louis, only seeing he was inches away from your face.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. He placed his hands on your waist, leaning down to connect your lips.

It was soft, sensual, sweet, it tasted a little smoky, but you didn’t mind. You ran your fingers through each other’s hair, oblivious to the people walking around you. You were in the zone again. No one existed but you two.

You pulled away, and bit your lip, Louis pressed a kiss to your forehead, wrapping you up in a hug. You sat for a few minutes, swaying under the streetlight.

“I’ve got Doritos upstairs,” you said, and you felt his chest shake with laughter.

“I’m in.”

You led him upstairs, never letting go of his hand. You entered your flat, finally letting go of his hand in order to find the promised Doritos. Your eyes caught the bottle of wine you’d be saving for a special occasion, and brought it out, along with two wine glasses.

You poured two glasses for you and Louis, and took a seat on the couch, legs intertwined.

“So, where are you from?” He asked, shoving a Dorito in his mouth.

“Galway, just moved there a few years ago,” you answered taking a small sip of wine.

“Galway,” he repeated, studying your face again, “My little Galway girl.”

You giggled. “How bout you?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it.

“Doncaster, born and raised,” he smiled, looking down at his wine. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“I’m sure it is,” you added, and Louis laughed airily.

You spent the next few hours talking about yourselves, talking into the early hours of the morning, both finally passing out, however, before you passed out, you had heard Louis mumble something to you.

“I’m gonna write a song about you, my little Galway girl and a perfect night,” he said, his voice slurring from exhaustion.

“Whatever you say,” you whispered, passing out moments later. The next morning you woke up alone, and all that was there was an apology note.

You didn’t believe what he had said about the song, until about a year later.

You were driving on your way to another gig, a solo one this time. You had turned up the radio. Almost crashing when you heard the opening chorus of the song.

“She played the fiddle in an Irish band,

But she fell in love with an English man,

Kissed her on the neck and

Said “baby I just wanna dance.”

It had to be coincidence, but as you continued listening, you knew that Louis was telling the truth that night. He had kept his word. You quickly jotted down the name of the song and the artist who sang it, Ed Sheeran. You were quite familiar with his work, and knew he didn’t normally write upbeat songs.

When you reached your gig, you quickly Googled who had written the song, and right at the top of the results, was Louis’s name.

—

When you arrived home that night, you decided to DM him. You didn’t expect an answer, but it was worth a try.

y/n:l/n - You really fucking did it, Doncaster.

You got a reply seconds later.

louist91 - what can I say, Galway girl? I keep my word

Tagging @everything-is-alrightt bc I asked her on anon if she wanted to be tagged and she said yes... so... 😂

#one direction x reader #one direction #louis tomilson #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson #louis tommo #tommo way #galway girl #louis tomlinson fanfiction #boo bear #kenna

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Note

Hey there! I was wondering if you could do a Top Gun request. It can be anyone you feel like, basically character goes over to find reader after a really stressful day, and they pull up to readers house/apartment to find her completely rocking out, dancing, singing, playing air guitar, etc. She then explains after caught that’s just how she can finally relax. I know it’s corny 😂, preferably with 80’s rock music! Thank so much! 💛

I love this request so much, so thank you for leaving it! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this because I enjoy this type of music, and it's probably something that would happen to me😅 I hope you like it!

You Do This To Unwind?

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw x reader (platonic)

Warnings: none

Masterlist

A/N: I apologise if the formatting on some of the verses has messed up, I'm not the best when it comes to sorting those kinda things😅

Songs Referenced (All as requested by @piperlikesallthings ) :

Dancing With Myself - Billy Idol

I Hate Myself For Loving You - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Barracuda - Heart

I don't even look as I throw my bag into the corner, groaning as I shuffle into the living room of my comfortable home, glad now that I put in the extra money to buy an offsite house to come back to, not really feeling like facing the rest of the aviators back at base all at once tonight. Flicking the lights on, I stand and stare out around the room for a second, before shrugging off my uniform jacket and tossing it down on the sofa, stretching out my muscles as I walk over to the coffee table, where a small stereo sits. Bending over, I quickly change the tape inside it and fiddle with the buttons, smiling tiredly to myself as the opening lines to Dancing With Myself by Billy Idol start to play, my body instantly starting to sway in time with the music.

As the music gets louder and louder, the troubles of the day start to fall away, my brain instantly starting to forget the near-catastrophic training flight I partook in today, the stern words of my commander overwhelmed by the more carefree vocals of the song. A smile works it's way onto my face as I focus on the rhythmic music, the tensions starting to drain from my muscles until I start dancing little more wildly, my hands instinctually moving to turn the volume up even further, the prominent guitar melodies encouraging me to join in with my own imaginary instrument. My fingers start to run up and down an invisible fret board, body moving in time with each change in tempo or rhythm, each movement becoming less and less coordinated as I start singing along, my voice slightly hoarse;

"So let's sink another drink Cause it'll give me time to think If I had the chance I'd ask the world to dance And I'll be dancin' with myself!"

Still smiling broadly, I throw myself to one of the chairs, continuing to sing and play the air guitar until the song is over, at which point I dramatically drop to my knees, as if onstage at a concert, breathing heavily as the last chords play out. Upon hearing the beginning of the next song, however, I jump back to my feet, ignoring the tired feeling in my body as I start bouncing to the beat again, the words of Joan Jett and The Blackhearts' I Hate Myself For Loving You erupting from my mouth as they do from the speakers on the stereo:

"Midnight, gettin' uptight Where are you? You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you."

I move my body along to the beat and flow of the music, very much enjoying the feeling of letting go of the resolve I'm required to carry in the sky, my wild movements uncontrolled and loose, allowing me time to relax as I dance, my mind not fixated on the prospect of training as it stays open and mostly blank. At some point, I climb onto the the coffee table and start ferociously playing the invisible guitar in my grip, singing loudly and passionately as I rock out to myself, completely missing the sound of the front door opening.

The car engine gently hums to a halt as I turn the key in the ignition, the headlights ahead of me fading out as the vehicle quietens, allowing me to hear the thumping rhythm emanating from the small house to my left, the tune vaguely familiar to me. Frowning to myself, I climb out of the car and slowly walk up to the front door, rolling up my shirt sleeves as I go, finding myself quite warm despite the chill of the night air, instinctually running a hand through my short hair. I cast a quick glance at the window to the living room, glad to see the lights are on, explaining why there is loud music coming from the small building, a small sigh of relief escaping me as I see this; I could really use a talk with (Y/n), given the crappy day Maverick and I had back at the base.

Stepping up to the front door, I ring the doorbell once and knock three times, just as I always have done, before waiting patiently for her to answer. Bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, I give it five minutes until I try again, frowning a little as I receive no reply again, worry starting to creep into me as I realise something might've happened to her. Thinking quickly, I look around the porch, going to the plant pots and checking underneath them and in their soil, cursing when I find nothing, my eyes eventually falling on the doormat. Cocking my head, I go over to it and lift a corner, smiling briefly to myself as I catch sight of the small silver key lying there, wondering what (Y/n) was thinking when she left it there. Hastily, I grab it and insert it into the door, grinning triumphantly when it goes in smoothly and turns quickly, the door unlocking for me easily, allowing me easy entrance.

Going in, I move straight to where I know the living room is, throwing open the door as I go, ignoring the pulsing music until I catch sight of the scene in front of me. I can't help the small grin that falls into place on my face as I relax back onto my heels, watching as (Y/n) pulls off a guitar riff on an imaginary guitar, her head moving up and down in time as her body rocks in unison, her hair becoming more and more tangled as she moves faster. Evidently, she hasn't noticed my presence yet.

Just as I go to introduce myself, she opens her mouth and starts singing along, a look of surprise spreading across my face as I listen to her, admiring her vocal ability;

"I hate myself for loving you Can't break free from the the things that you do I want to walk but I run back to you, that's why I hate myself for loving you I hate myself for loving you I hate myself for loving you."

The song comes to an end and she leaps from the coffee table she's standing on, landing gracefully in front of the sofa, her eyes opening to find me watching her, a look of horror and embarrassment cutting through the relaxed expression from before, her cheeks burning bright red.

"Hey there." I greet her, smirking.

"H-hey Goose." She responds, wiping sweat from her forehead as she moves to turn down the volume of the next song, Barracuda by Heart.

"You look like you're having fun." I tease her, walking closer as she tries not to start dancing again, the catchy rhythm of the song evidently encouraging her.

"Yeah, I guess...I'm just trying to unwind." She mutters, looming down as I stop in front of her.

"Unwind? Did you have a bad day, too?" I inquire, lifting an eyebrow as I start to bounce a little in time with the beat.

"Yeah. Nearly crashed during training and the commanders weren't happy about it."

"You and me, both." I roll my eyes at the memory, remembering the reason I came here, "You do this to unwind?"

"It helps me relax if I let out all my tensions. Music like this makes me feel happy, so it works a treat." She admits, looking away as if embarrassed.

"Sounds like fun. Can I try?" I ask her, hoping it'll help the two of us.

She shoots me an odd look, but nods anyway.

"Yeah, sure."

Grinning, I turn up the volume on the stereo and grab her hands, starting to dance with her as she let's out a hesitant laugh, unsure of what is happening.

"Come on, (Y/n), loosen up!" I encourage her, spinning her as she starts to join in, the two of us smiling widely at one another as we start moving much more violently, as if pretending to have a competition in who can play the air guitar the best.

Singing along, we feel the tensions in the room fade away, both of us losing ourselves to the music as we bounce about, head banging to the strong beat, most likely annoying the neighbours to no end but neither of us caring too much, too caught up in the moment to do so.

#top gun imagine #top gun: maverick #top gun #top gun goose #request #imagine #ask #answer

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Text

an ode to impossibility

Brian May x Fem!Reader | 1979

click here for a fic playlist (yes, i made a playlist and an aesthetic too...)

synopsis: in which Freddie decides that Queen should spend an actual night at the opera, and Brian decides he’s fallen for Odette.

warnings: swearing, drinking, complete angst fest from dusk til dawn and dusk again, implied smut

word count: 8.1k

a/n: for jess (@brianmays-hair)— happy birthday!! i hope you have a wonderful day. you’re so so lovely, your writing is just rivetingly gorgeous, and you are nothing short of absolutely inspiring. anyway, i believe you once mentioned something about brian and a ballerina…

⭒

Barcelona, 19th of February, 1979

Though it was Monday night, it would seem that the entirety of Barcelona, dressed to the nines, had been packed into the Gran Teatre de Liceu.

“Freddie,” Roger said as he sat down beside John, “I could’ve sworn you said we were going to the opera, not the ballet.”

“This is the opera, darling,” Freddie told Roger’s skeptical expression. “The opera house. We are seeing a ballet. Know the difference.”

Roger looked vaguely disappointed. “So no screaming vikings, then?”

Freddie rolled his eyes.

“So long as it perks up misery guts over there,” John jerked a thumb in Brian’s direction, “I’m okay with anything.”

Brian stammered in protest, but he was ignored as Freddie sighed, “Thank you, Deacy.”

“Even if it is a little disappointing about the lack of vikings.”

“Alright,” said Freddie, “both of you can shut up. I’ll be solely talking to Brian for the remainder of the night, thank you.”

Deacy snorted, and Roger muttered, “Good luck.”

Freddie turned to Brian, “What is it that’s got you in such a sulk, anyway?”

“I’m not in a sulk,” said Brian, folding his arms over his chest.

“You’re looking quite the grumpy sod, though, aren’t you?”

Brian shifted his legs in discomfort, only to knock his knee on the seat in front of him, hard. He winced, rubbing his injury. “I’m not, it’s just, they’ve not really made these chairs accommodating for tall people.”

“Poor you,” said Roger tonelessly. Brian fought the urge to snap at him.

“Maybe if you were taller, you wouldn’t be mistaken for a girl all the time,” he mumbled.

“Brian,” chided Freddie. “That’s low, even for you.”

Roger squinted at Brian from the other end of the row. “But then I wouldn’t be comfortable in these chairs.”

“Shush, all of you,” Deacy waved his hand. “Show’s starting.”

Sure enough, the house lights were being dimmed, and a hum of sound led by violins rose from the orchestra pit.

Brian sighed heavily, and Freddie patted his arm. “You’ll be alright, darling,” he said.

But Brian wasn’t so sure.

Nothing in his head had made sense lately. Or maybe what scared him was that it was only inside his head that the world made sense.

Everything around him felt like madness, felt like it was falling apart as rapidly as it’d come together. The world seemed to know who he was, but Brian was entirely in the dark.

To the world, he was the gentle-smiling, brainiac guitarist for perhaps one of the most popular bands on the music scene. But Brian often found it difficult to smile. And he hardly felt clever when he couldn’t even understand his own inner workings.

The world spun, and his head spun with it.

The dancers spun onstage.

He hadn’t even noticed the rise of the curtain. But there they were.

Brian leaned his chin into his palm, watching passively. He’d never been much for either ballet or opera, preferring plays, in which the characters made their intentions clear by speaking them and were generally easier to keep up with. Still, he could admit that the dedication and skill required of ballet dancers was immense, and impressive in its execution.

He hadn’t, however, been paying attention along the way, and thus had now absolutely no idea as to what show he was watching. It wasn’t until the second scene that it dawned on him.

And then, the music was unmistakable. Tchaikovsky.

This was Swan Lake.

Brian sat up a little; he’d always liked this particular piece of music. Mysterious, lulling, nostalgic— it was beautiful, and suddenly, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the stage.

But maybe that particular fact had something to do with the appearance of the prima ballerina.

She was gorgeous, yes, but this was not what utterly enamoured Brian upon first sight.

It was the way she moved.

It was said that the majority of human expression lay not in the wealth of words, but in the depths of body language, and as the prima ballerina moved, she wholly became Odette, and Odette became the epitome of expression. Brian found it hard to believe that he was watching a dancer, a real human being, rather than the porcelain figurine in a music box, because her grace was immaculate; not the whisper of a mistake seemed possible between her steps. Brian felt oddly moved by it all, because it was when he played music that he felt the most alive.

And now here was this dancer, bringing to life a whole other world through the way she moved to music.

He hoped she knew how beautiful her expression was. He hoped she knew that she spun across the stage as though the floor were the sky and she danced among the stars. He hoped she knew.

He resolved then, madly, to tell her, so that he could be sure.

He couldn’t bear for her not to know.

⭒

“Well,” Roger stretched his arms above his head, “that was nicer than I thought it’d be, but I think I’ll go back to the hotel now.”

“Pretty lady waiting for you?” Deacy quipped.

“No,” Roger scoffed, “I’m just tired, christ.”

Freddie patted his shoulder. “You can’t blame us though, can you, dearie?”

He turned to Brian as they all began to shuffle out of the theatre alongside the rest of the audience, afforded anonymity by being in a crowd instead of before it, and by the fact that Barcelonians did not seem to recognise English musicians. “Ready to go, Brian? You’ve had your head in the clouds all day.”

Brian frowned, preoccupied by the notion that nagged at his mind. “Actually,” he said, “do you mind if we take the back way out?”

Freddie glanced around. “I didn’t think anyone had recognised us,” he muttered, lowering his voice and his head.

“No, no,” Brian waved a hand. “There was just somebody I needed to talk to.”

“Well, I for one don’t speak any Spanish,” said Roger. “You’re on your own.”

Brian shrugged. His own haphazard Spanish would have to do.

Freddie’s brow furrowed. “Alright then, darling. Lead the way.”

Brian nodded and began weaving through the abundance of people steadily swarming in the opposite direction. It was rather like swimming upstream.

At the door to the backstage area, Brian hesitated.

There was no one to stop him from going in, and the door itself was wide open. Everyone in the theatre was so intent on leaving that no one had bothered to block this entrance.

“Brian?” John prodded. “You wanted to talk to somebody?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

He walked through the doorway, and though the space was mostly quiet, laughter floated from a corner, where a small gathering of people stood talking. Some seemed to be from the ballet company, while others bore the demeanour of critics come backstage to discuss the show.

And there she was.

Odette, as Brian had subconsciously nicknamed her in his head. But he’d seen her name in the program. He only hoped he could remember it between crossing the room and finding the courage to speak.

He turned to the others, but found that they had been distracted, drawn to a table full of drinks that proclaimed ¡gratis! by way of a little card set amongst the glasses.

Now Brian really was on his own. Odette drifted apart from her flock of admirers, a crown of feathers still on her head. Though she now wore a tracksuit instead of a tutu, she was no less elegant than she had been onstage. Even the way she held herself spoke an otherworldly grace.

Brian swallowed. Then he approached her.

“Disculpe, ¿Señora Y/N?”

She turned at his polite intrusion, lips parted in a question, and she looked almost surprised.

Brian blushed, abruptly terrified that he should make a grammatical mistake in the face of this Elysian being. “Tu eres… eras magnífico.”

Her lovely face was grim, her hands clasped tightly around her water bottle, and Brian feared he’d somehow insulted her. Somehow.

“Perdón,” she mumbled, “but I’ve got absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”

Brian could have laughed in relief. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I know what I’m saying either.”

She smiled radiantly, and Brian felt instantly more at ease.

“Well,” he said, “seeing as neither of us speak Spanish very well, I’ll stick to what I know and try English.”

She laughed lightly, folding her arms over her structured frame, one which had undoubtedly been built up with years of hard work, endurance, dedication.

Brian’s eyes caught on hers, only to have him flush again under the sway of her gaze. “Although at the moment, it seems I don’t speak any language at all.”

She laughed again, shaking her head slightly. “You’ve managed more words that I have,” she said kindly.

Brian laughed with her, to try to ease the tension knotting in his chest, but the air he breathed only grew thicker.

“I just wanted to say that you were phenomenal,” he began, and her eyes softened. His courage steeled upon seeing that she didn’t look as though she wanted him to leave. “I mean, really, truly, absolutely phenomenal. “The control over your movement, your poise, your expression,” he continued. “Just— everything. It’s indescribable. All I can say is that you’re a wonderful dancer. Though I’ve sure you’ve heard that a thousand times before, so much that it must sound like white noise at this point.”

He was rambling, and he knew it, but she didn’t appear to mind.

“Actually, no,” she responded to his unasked query. “I haven’t heard that a thousand times before.”

Brian blinked, perplexed, but she said, “People tend to take one look at the prima ballerina and tell her she’s beautiful, not that she’s talented. And,” she went on, “that’s the first time I’ve gotten phenomenal. From Brian May, no less!”

Brian was baffled. “You— you know who I am?”

“Do I know who you are?” she repeated, with satire. “Of course I know who you are! And I know who those three milling about the drinks table are as well. You’re Queen. You’re quite phenomenal yourself.”

Brian felt another blush colour his cheeks. “Maybe not quite phenomenal. We’re doing alright for ourselves, though.”

She smirked, and she was royalty herself, appalled at the ineducation of a commoner. “You’re on a world tour. I’d say that’s pretty damn phenomenal.”

“Well,” Brian balked, “thank you.”

She then fixed him with a curious stare, her eyes flitting over his face in a delicate manner. “How long are you here for?”

“Three days,” he responded slowly. “Two after today.”

“Any chance you’ll come see me again?”

Brian asked carefully, “You’d like me to?”

She smiled. “You wouldn’t?”

“Yes,” said Brian. “I mean, no, I—”

“I know what you mean.”

Brian nodded. The conversation was finished.

But there was a glint in her stare where she stood, transferring her weight from the balls of her feet to her toes, then back to her heels, as though she couldn’t stand still, as though she longed to dance, even after having finished a performance. Brian felt the same when he finished concerts. So he asked what he’d been meaning to all along.

“Would you go out for a drink with me?”

She looped an arm through his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

⭒

You usually spent your nights alone, because after the shows, you were tired, and so was everybody else.

But tonight, you were wide awake. And it had everything to do with the curly-haired guitarist sitting directly across from you.

You leaned your elbows on the table as he talked, observing more than listening. You’d asked Brian to tell you about himself, but you knew very well that everything he told you would be disproportionate to the truth; he was too humble to offer you insight on his own achievements.

So you watched instead. Watched how delicately he held his glass of beer, how his eyelashes fluttered when he talked about something that brought forth in him great passion, how his teeth caught on his lip when he paused in deep thought.

You loved to watch him think. You could almost see the rampage of ideas and impressions as they danced forth behind his honey-coloured eyes.

“Brian,” you raised your voice over the noise of the crowded bar, and he leaned forward. “You’re not telling me about yourself.”

He angled his ear toward you. “Say that again, love.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you said instead.

He turned toward you. “And where to?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

A smile curved over his lips. “My favourite place.”

Out of the bar and into the night you went, Brian’s arm hovering at the small of your back as he guided you past the beginnings of a brawl by the pub entrance.

Barcelona was a lively place, the hum of people and their festivities not slowing, even outside the tourism season, even on a weeknight.

Neither of you knew the city well, so it was fitting that you should explore it together. Between the cobblestone alleyways ensconced by potted plants, flickering lamp posts, and the sparkling sea, it was all very picturesque. Like a fairytale— como un cuento de hadas, in Brian’s words.

“So you do speak Spanish.”

He was good at it, too. His accent was nearly flawless. Had you closed your eyes, you might have mistaken the soft rumble of his words for that of a native speaker.

But then again, had you closed your eyes, your thoughts might have wandered to another place entirely, one where you imagined what it would be like to have him whisper his lovely words across your skin. You drifted closer to him with each swaying step down yet another Barcelonian street.

“Do I?” He smiled endearingly, and your stomach flipped. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You liked this side of him, the one which seemed to surface when he relaxed. Slightly cheeky, a little less enigmatic and a little more bold. Definitely attractive.

“Liar,” you said. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

And please, for the love of god, keep doing what you are doing.

He laughed in response. “I’m glad I have you fooled,” he said.

Amongst the alleys you weaved aimlessly, admiring in silence the way that no two street corners you turned looked the same, how the entire ambience of a road was changed as the light bent differently around little details or imperfections in the brickwork.

The buildings were high and though they sat close together, their roofs were flat and did not obstruct the sky; the darkness above you could still be seen.

The sky reminded you of the stage, how it was difficult to see anything— anyone— beyond the darkness, and how when the quiet settled in, it was almost as if you were dancing alone, without an audience, with only the music and yourself.

Brian wondered aloud about life on tour with the American Ballet Theatre, and in describing it to him, you quickly realised that your worlds were very similar. You knew the early mornings and he knew the late nights, and he understood the lonely melancholy of flying from city to city without ever looking back.

The loneliness. It was something you shared.

The stars were not visible, but Brian lectured you on them anyway, and for the first time that evening, you had the impression that he was talking without holding anything back, limitless in his awe of the night sky.

You asked an abundance of questions, not out of politeness, but of genuine interest. The manner in which he spoke of the stars was invigorating, enthralling, and you wanted to feel this sense of wonder forever fill your heart, as beautifully as it filled his.

“That’s beautiful, Brian,” you’d said. His lips had closed over the remnants of a sentence only partly-formed, ended almost before it had begun because he’d trailed off in thought.

“You think so?” he asked, turning toward you with a wilderness in his eyes. He’d stopped walking. “I bore everyone half to death with all this.”

You shook your head, “How could anyone be bored?”

He had a gravity about him, and an air of pensiveness that brought you pause, because you’d never before wanted to listen to someone forever, until now. Until Brian.

You suddenly craved the familiar weight of your pointe shoes, because you longed to dance. It was all you could do when your inspiration bubbled over, and right now, beneath Brian’s soft gaze, even if you’d tried, you wouldn’t have been able to remember what it was like to feel lost.

Thoughts cascaded in a waterfall through your mind, begging to be spoken, to be heard. You wanted to tell him about his gravity, his pensiveness, how he made you want to dance.

Instead, you told him to wait for you in the wings after tomorrow night’s performance, because the implications of doing so said far more than you ever could.

“Hasta mañana,” he bid you as you parted company after he’d walked you back to the theatre.

Until tomorrow, spoken so simply, as though you’d always have tomorrow.

It had not escaped you that he would depart in less than three days.

⭒

Barcelona, 20th of February, 1979

He’d come running from the stage, had handed off his guitar and swapped his jacket, and was out of the arena before most of the audience had even begun to move.

If he was quick, he could just catch the end of her show.

He took the first taxi he found, armed with flowers and a vague recollection of the instructions he’d been given yesterday by his favourite ballerina.

At the stage door, Brian addressed the security guard in what he hoped was adequate Spanish. It seemed to be, because after showing the man a pass, Brian was through.

He followed signs, through corridors patterned by the autographs of performers past, until he reached a staircase, and at the top of that, the final door between him and the wings.

There, he stopped, hesitating on the doorstep to decision.

I’m leaving tomorrow.

The old adage of ‘don’t get attached’ wasn’t one Brian was fond of, because he did get attached. Far too easily, and far too much, and if he was already so enamoured after having spent mere hours in her company, then there would be no chance of him forgetting.

After even a singular conversation with her, he’d realised that she was the romantic sort, the kind to inspire a renaissance with a single phrase, a glance, a touch, a breath. She spoke in poetry as fluidly as any other person would have breathed, and yet, it seemed that it had never occurred to anyone to tell her so. She lived in ignorance of her own etherealness, subsided in the shadows of solitude where such sentiments of narcissism would never have arisen.

But ethereal as she was, she felt far away— untouchable, almost— to those who perceived her, for who could fathom the existence of such a muse without themselves feeling displaced? She was a planet out of orbit from the sun that all others were drawn to; she was radiant enough that she could survive without its light, because she had light of her own.

A dreamer she was, and all longed to be a part of her dreams, for her presence was dappled sunlight on an otherwise rainy day, pinpricks of light flooding through the darkness like stars.

There would be no chance of forgetting her.

He would be forced to leave Barcelona with a breaking heart, and face the consequences of breaking hers.

If, of course, he had any hold on her heart.

Part of him hoped that he did, and part of him hoped that she did not care for him at all, if only to make his imminent departure easier.

He could walk away, right now, and never see her again. It would have been simpler, certainly, to avoid entangling his emotions any further, to live and let die this connection that probably should never have happened at all.

But hell, when had Brian ever done anything because it was simple?

He pushed open the swinging door and then he was in the wings, catching sight of her as she arched across the stage with infallible grace, unfathomable beauty.

She made everything around her beautiful, for she moved like light.

Starlight.

Yes, that was her. No one would have thought to describe her as any less.

And just like everybody else, Brian had fallen utterly head over heels for her.

⭒

You ran off of stage as applause resounded from the audience, your heart still thudding with adrenaline as the curtain sank to the floor behind you, as you sank from your toes to your heels, easing the weight from your ankles. It wasn’t a job in which one could relax, but never in a million years would you have given this life up. Nothing would ever come close to the rush of euphoria that was a pirouette, executed perfectly at centrestage, beneath the glow of a spotlight as radiant as the moon.

Except perhaps the look on Brian’s face as his eyes met yours.

Outside of youth, you’d never seen anyone smile so brightly. Only naïvete allowed such brilliance, when one still believed that nobody had ulterior motives, and that it only rained when it was meant to.

“You came!” you exclaimed, breathlessly flinging your arms around him.

He laughed, wrapping one arm around you and holding the other at a safe distance. “Careful, amor,” he said. “The roses have thorns, you know.”

“Oh, you brought me flowers!”

You let go of him because he’d almost lost his balance to your embrace, and he presented you with the bouquet.

“I know that everyone brings flowers, and red roses at that, but it felt wrong to arrive without any.”

But these roses were different. They were from him.

You pressed your nose into the petals, their velvety quality reminiscent of the satin of your ballet shoes, the aroma reminding you of the flower box outside of your bedroom window back home.

“They’re lovely, Brian. Thank you.”

He inclined his head, and you flushed beneath the weight of his eyes; you felt like royalty.

Still winded, though you should have caught your breath by now, you gestured toward the backstage area. “Wait by the sofas. I’ve got to change, but then I want to show you something.”

The smile already on his face broadened. “Okay.”

You brushed past him, but his fingertips brushed the underside of your wrist.

You spun, instinctively taking hold of his hand.

“Y/N, you were wonderful.”

Abruptly shy, you looked down. When you raised your head, his hazel irises twinkled.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and so you smiled instead. A small smile, a secret, one which would forever belong to the two of you, and to the darkness of the empty stage.

⭒

When you returned from the dressing room, Brian was reclining on one of the couches. His outrageously long legs extended before him, he twirled a silver coin in his hand, staring at the token absently.

“What’s that all about?” you asked, and he snapped his fingers closed around the coin, sitting upright in an instant.

“Christ, you scared me,” he said, pupils dilated. He lowered the hand he’d pressed against his chest, and unfurled his long fingers to reveal the coin.

“It’s my guitar pick,” he told you as you sank to the cushions beside him.

“You use a coin?”

“A sixpence,” Brian nodded, holding out the coin and dropping it into your palm when you offered your hand. Pointing to the edge of the metal disc, he leaned close enough to you that his shoulder rested against yours. “Look,” he said, his voice by your ear, “it’s the serrations on the side that give the sound character. Sort of scratchy, unclean.”

“Rock ‘n’ roll,” you responded, returning him the coin. He smiled as he tucked it away in his pocket.

You were suddenly aware of how close he sat to you. His chin could have rested on your shoulder if he had only lowered his head, his breath could have stopped your heart if only it had been upon your mouth.

You were stilled in the moment, and he stared back at you in your stillness, powerful in the silence suspended between you which bound your will to his.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” he asked, quietly.

Slowly, you stood, giving him a hand up. “Come on.”

⭒

It was a bit of a walk to the Arc de Triomf, but it did not much matter to you, because every alley and alcove was an adventure in itself, made for straying souls who wandered through the Barcelona night, not because they were lost, but because they were seeking that which would inspire them. You were amongst those restless adventurers, and from what you could tell of Brian, inadvertently, so was he.

Seemingly endless with life, each corner of the city was crowded, friends and newfound acquaintances sharing stories and drinks beneath the shelter of trees, breathing the ocean air as it washed in over the land. Laughter and music drifted from cafes and bars, and the Barcelonians appeared to have a fondness for warm light, decorating fences and walls with hundreds of strung up lights, candles, lanterns, so that the whole city glittered as brilliantly as its people. The night was not warm, but it still felt that way, with the previously sun-soaked boulevards radiating their daytime heat and Brian hovering close beside you.

The dark was beginning to fully set in for the night, and you smiled at Brian. He mirrored the expression, albeit with a furrow of his brow, because he did not yet know where it was you were taking him.

Still, he didn’t ask where it was you were going, because he knew you would not tell him anyway.

You led him along the scenic route of the city, partially to distract him, partially because it was his last night in Barcelona and if he was anything like you— and he was— then he would want to see as much of the city as was humanly possible. He would want to cradle in his mind the memory of the night, crispness of the night air, the energy of the people, and perhaps the thought of you at his side.

Years and years later, these moments would still glitter in your own memory, like mirages frozen in time and stained glass, like the windows in the churches in this city where you’d dared to live so boldly. But you did not know that now. It all passed you by, as things do, before one can remember to notice them and tuck them away for later, for when happiness feels far away. But then again, there would be no beauty in knowing which memories would resurface at odd moments in one’s life, to inspire, to build a dream upon, to draw an unexpected smile. Chaos— now that held beauty.

The beach came into view, the cool breeze blowing in from the water. Barcelona’s lights twinkled about the edges of the crashing waves, the hills of sand.

A lone busker, aged in face but bright in soul, armed with only a battered acoustic guitar and his lilting voice occupied a place on the path by the beach, and Brian touched your elbow as you went by. Though you did not understand the words, the tune he sang was mournful. It made you think of flowers floating abandoned through water in remembrance of the lost.

“I know this song,” Brian said, and then said nothing more. Instead, he took your hand and spun you once around, as though the two of you were dancing. Then he continued walking, as though nothing had happened.

There was a sadness in his face, equal in sorrow to the song of the busker, and he did not look at you.

You studied his face silently, wondering what he was thinking. But it was nigh impossible to discern anything at all; he had suddenly become completely closed off, utterly unreadable. You yearned to take his hand again, if only it would make him smile.

At one point, you passed a fountain and could not resist stopping by the trickling water, gazing at the mounds of coins sacrificed in the hopes of fulfilling some hopeless wish.

He halted with you. “What is it?”

You leaned against the fountain, skimming your fingers across the surface of the water and staring as gold, silver, and copper glitters in the depths. Some of the coins looked older, roughened by age and the exchange of hands, oxidised in greens and blues, while others appeared almost newly minted. Shiny and unworn, those new coins would never see anything but the fountain, and perhaps their opulence would thus be forever preserved. Maybe some people preferred their treasures preserved, but you loved the little nicks, the little imperfections, that came with time. Character, as Brian had said. Those new coins had no character.

“Who do you think they were, all those people?”

Brian leaned against the fountain as well, then perched on the rim when his height proved to be too much to avoid falling in. “Who?”

“The wishers.”

“Well, there must have been many,” he said, sweeping a hand over the water.

A strange melancholy had taken you over, and when you looked at him, his eyes were soft and wide; he was not simply humouring you. This ancient place— with its gothic architecture and hidden streets and squares— it stirred something within him too.

“Do you think they stopped,” you went on, “like us, because they came across the fountain, or do you think they came to this place on purpose?”

His expression was pensive, peacefulness tempered by sparks that lit up his eyes in wondrous thought. Oh, how you loved that look about him. It made you feel alive.

“Both,” he said. “Some made their way here, and others found their way here, perhaps walking a path they did not intend to follow but did so without knowing.”

You sat down beside him. “Do you believe in fate?”

“No,” he murmured. Then, “I don’t know.”

“What about wishing with coins in a fountain?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “No harm could come of it. Unless of course you’re throwing away your last coin.”

“But you wouldn’t be throwing it away,” you said. “You’d be spending it, on a wish.”

“Best hope your wish is worth it then,” he responded, not unkindly, but with a playful undertone.

You blinked at him in confusion, but he dropped his hand to his pocket and pulled out the sixpence. He held it up and it sparkled in the light of the flickering street lamps.

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Is your wish worth my sixpence?” he asked, turning the coin between his fingers.

Not just any sixpence. His guitar pick.

“How long have you had that sixpence for, Brian?” you said softly.

His smile faltered, in a strangely open show of sentimentality. “Since the beginning,” he said.

“Meaning…”

“Meaning nine years.” His eyes left the coin and found your eyes instead. “So. Is it worth it?”

You shook your head slowly. “Nine years, Brian.”

He leaned toward you, holding the coin between you. His eyes were warmer than the light which bathed the street. He whispered, “What are you wishing for, my love?”

You shook your head again. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“But it’s worth it, then?”

You nodded.

“For you, amor.”

He kissed the sixpence and tossed it into the fountain, and you wished that one day you might see him again.

⭒

Time, it seemed, was of no consequence in Barcelona, and washed away as easily as rain. The walk disappeared between the folds of time, and when you next rounded the corner of a road, the Arc came into view.

Brian laughed, “Ah, so we’re going sight-seeing?”

“No,” you shook your head, “not quite.”

He frowned.

You smiled. “Come on, starchaser.”

You slipped your hand into his, and slowly but with decision, he folded his fingers through yours. You felt the flutter of his pulse against your wrist.

The Arc came into better view, but squinting up at the sky, you could see that you still were not quite close enough.

A few more steps, and then you were there.

You pulled Brian’s hand so that he came to stand right before the Arc.

“Look up,” you told him, and he raised his eyes to the sky.

Beneath the Arc, the moon rose in glistening whites and yellows, illuminating the sky in a halo of light and giving the archway the impression of housing a crystal ball.

“I saw it last night, when I was on my way back to my hotel,” you said. “I know you still can’t see the stars, but—”

“I love it.”

You turned your gaze on Brian’s face and found that he was staring at the moon, his expression caught between wonder and wistfulness.

Then he looked at you.

The wonder and wistfulness remained.

“I love that you thought of me when you saw it,” he said softly.

For a moment, you thought that he might kiss you, staring at you so unabashedly, his eyes flickering between yours, as though he intended to draw you to him and finally replace your intake of breath with his lips. But he didn’t. He took your hand again.

“I’m not usually this forward,” he murmured, running his thumb over the back of your hand, and your heartbeat quickened.

“You call this forward?” you laughed, but the sound caught in your throat as you stared at his fingers curled around your own.

“I’ve only known you a day,” he replied.

It was true, you realised. You’d only just met him, really. But with his soft-spoken manner and intelligent conversation, a day had multiplied for an age, and you’d spent a hundred years waiting for him to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I know,” you said.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He shook his head slowly, clasping both of your hands. “Why is it that it’s so easy for me to say all this to you now?”

His skin was warm, his fingers calloused, and his touch was so gentle that it weakened you where you stood.

“Sometimes,” you said, “we’re more honest with strangers than with those closest to us.”

“Why?”

You frowned. “I don’t know— anonymity? A lack of feeling responsible for whatever impact our words may have upon the listener?” He turned your hand over absently as you spoke, tracing circles over your skin. “Or simplicity?” you continued, fighting the urge to shudder. “For the simple fact that they do not know us and will not judge us on the basis of how they believe we should act, in accordance with how they know us? It’s difficult to understand, and nonetheless, it seems to happen.”

His eyes flickered. “I care.”

“What?”

“I care how my words will impact you,” he reiterated. “Would you not, in my place?”

“I would,” you responded quietly. He’d somehow moved closer without you noticing, and when his hip brushed against yours, a tingle rushed down your sides.

“So that cannot be it.”

“Simplicity, then.”

“Yes,” he hummed, “I think that makes more sense.”

“Only, the longer you speak with somebody, the less simple it becomes.” You were referring to the two of you, and he knew it. “And the less of strangers you become.”

“Maybe,” he went on in a low voice, “that is how all relationships should be built.”

“How?” you dared to ask.

“Without judgement, from the beginning.” Here he paused, and where before you’d been occupied with the caress of his fingers across your skin, you met his eyes. “So when I tell you now that you are beautiful, I mean not only that you are beautiful, but that you are an artist, talented and soulful too, and it shows, in all that you are.”

After everything, he still cared enough to make you understand that he wasn’t trying to belittle you by noticing your beauty, but rather that he earnestly thought you beautiful as well as everything he’d said yesterday, and couldn’t bear for you not to know.

It made your heart ache.

“Brian—”

He tilted his head ever so slowly, and when his hand came to rest on your cheek, he kissed your lips. Delicately, tentatively, until you pressed up against him and pulled him closer, kissed him harder, like a storm drawing him into the abyss, and from the storm you became the abyss as you drowned in his touch.

When your hands drifted to his hair and your fingers wound in his curls, he drew back from you.

“You mustn’t do that,” he whispered, and a shiver skittered down your spine behind his trailing fingers.

“Why not?” you hummed, and he brushed his lips over the corner of your mouth.

“Because you’ll drive me absolutely mad.”

You smiled languidly. “All the more reason to do it, then.”

His kiss was less hesitant this time.

⭒

By the end of the night, you thought he must have kissed you in every place in the city— beneath stone arches and under overhanging flowerpots, by fountains and along the waterline of the beach, by monuments and to the audience of marble-eyed statues, never once shy in his affections, as he had previously been.

With each breath he lingered longer, and you became more desperate to keep his mouth on yours, to have his hands roam your skin, to run your fingers through his hair and to hear him hum with pleasure at your touch.

And then the rain started.

Out of nowhere, it came rushing down from the sky in a heavy torrent, like sand spilling through an hourglass on borrowed time, and Brian pulled you under the awning of a closed shop.

You laughed as he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips now speckled with rainwater that tasted like the open sky and the flower fields one might have found beneath.

He brushed his nose against yours, stroked a gentle finger down your face.

“It’s late,” he whispered, and his breathlessness made your heart stutter.

He was so beautiful. And here he was kissing you.

“Then take me home,” you said.

He opened his eyes, drawing back slightly. “Are you sure, my love?”

“Yes,” you breathed, because you couldn’t remember when you’d last wanted something as much as you wanted this. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” you added, should he have thought less of you.

But he smiled. “Nor do I.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I know,” he said. “But it is still today.”

You ran with Brian through the rain, huddled under his jacket with clasped hands.

At the door to his hotel room, he fiddled with the rain-coated key until it finally latched in the lock and you stumbled inside, already pushing the jacket from his shoulders as he closed the door.

He kissed you hungrily now, to quell the thought of how little time there was left in which to do such things, to satisfy the burn of desperation that surely scalded him as much as you.

It made you reckless, the thought of him leaving, but you were determined that your recklessness should not be synonymous with regret, and so you slowed your movements to appreciate the softness of his mouth, the elegance of his being. Brian fell into step with you, and when he eased the blouse from your shoulders, his fingertips trailed lightly across your skin.

The cotton finally fell from your frame and he gazed at you with parted lips, a look of utter adoration in his eyes. His hands came to rest on either side of your face, and he leaned into you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You were on your toes to kiss him and he was bending down to meet you, but then he caught your lower lip between his teeth and you whimpered. “Bri—”

He breathed your name, easing you back a couple of steps until your legs touched the bedsheet, where he gathered you into his arms and laid you gently atop the covers.

You pulled him down to you, relishing the little groan that escaped him when you parted your lips and pushed your fingers into his hair. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, his lips grazing beneath your ear, leaving tender kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, until his breath whispered against your legs and his lips the inside of your thighs.

The world fell away from around you, because there was nothing more to it when Brian was yours in the moments that followed, pretty and gentle, achingly slow in his movements.

⭒

In the afterglow, the city lights danced across the walls of the unlit room as Brian’s long fingers skimmed up and down your arm.

You were nestled close to him, your nose buried in the crook of his neck as you breathed in his lovely smell of soap and sea air and flowers, and he pressed the occasional kiss to your shoulder, as though to remind you that he was still there and had not changed his mind in how he thought of you.

Somewhere, a clock struck an early hour, and you flinched.

He was leaving today.

You wondered faintly if you would ever see him again, ever kiss those fluttering lashes and gesturing hands, with which he belonged more in Italy than in England. Or better yet, in Barcelona, with you.

So you kissed him everywhere now, and he kissed you back, and you hoped that the memory of your lips would serve you better than that of your mind, because you forget things all too easily these days; they slipped away from you in black and white fragments like piano keys, all feeling fading away into nonsensical noise and hazy pictures. It terrified you.

Brian hummed quietly when you shivered, wrapping his arms around you in wordless solidarity.

“It was always going to be short-lived,” you murmured, as though it would make it any simpler for you to let him go if you spoke aloud the logic which eluded your melancholy heart.

Brian said nothing, and you sighed.

“An English musician and ballerina signed with the American Ballet Theatre. You have your city, and I have mine.”

He ran a strand of your hair through his fingers, tucking it behind your ear. You watched him move, marvelling at his prettiness for the thousandth time, and at the thought of him choosing to lie here with you— you, of all people— adoration rushed through you. You longed to kiss him again.

But his hazel eyes found yours, and he kissed you first— softly, fleetingly, his touch dying away all too soon.

“Let us have Barcelona, then,” he said. “Our city.”

His words warmed you where fear had turned you cold.

Beneath the guise of sleep, an overwhelming sadness washed over you and pulled you under.

You pressed closer to Brian, and his hold on you tightened.

⭒

Barcelona, 21st of February, 1979

He held her hand as tightly as he dared all the way to the theatre.

The theatre was where he would leave her.

It wasn’t meant to go this way. These things weren’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to find happiness and then be forced to let go of it. You were supposed to find happiness and then by god, you were supposed to hold so tightly to it that even light could not have escaped your grasp, to be a black hole for the desire to be loved.

Brian knew that it was unrealistic, and given the way life had treated him, he should not have believed in this, this naïve idea that things would right themselves when he needed it the most.

But he was a dreamer. He couldn’t help it.

The light was slipping through his fingers.

And she moved like light.

With every step, the theatre and the dismal fate that awaited beyond it loomed closer.

Brian’s chest clenched painfully.

He began to walk more slowly, and he felt her lessen her pace beside him, felt her eyes fall upon his face as he swallowed.

They came to a stop by the doors, and he turned to her. He did not let go of her hand.

She stared up at him with doe-eyes, tears beginning to rise in their depths.

Wordlessly, he put his arms around her, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, but he preferred to gaze at her for just a moment longer.

“Write to me,” she murmured. “But don’t call me when you land.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have to get used to the thought of living without you, and I can’t do that if I still remember the sound of your voice.”

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, and she turned her face to press a kiss to his fingers. “Prefiero un minuto contigo a una eternidad sin ti,” he whispered.

“Brian,” she laughed softly, sadly. “I still don’t speak Spanish.”

He didn’t laugh, because he was trembling as it was and did not need anything more to wrack his frame with shudders. It was cruel, how little time they’d had.

Exhaling slowly, he repeated,

“I would rather spend a minute with you than spend an eternity without you.”

She choked on a sob, and her arms wrapped around his middle as she laid her head against his chest.

“I’ll wait for you,” she whispered.

He took her face in his hands and pressed a final, bittersweet caress to her mouth.

Then he coaxed her gently from his arms, to find that saltwater streaks had stained her face.

“Oh, love,” he murmured. He touched his lips briefly to her tears, wishing for all the world that he would not have given her reason to cry in the first place. But as much as it hurt to leave her now, he would not have wished her memory away.

His hands slipped from her face to her shoulders until they found her hands again.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

But she shook her head. “Hasta mañana.”

She had remembered. Dimly, he was aware of the tears that pooled in his own eyes.

He had only just found her, but after today, he would never see her again. Until tomorrow, she had said. And yet, they did not have tomorrow. But he could pretend. Perhaps if he left, imagining in his head that he would see her again tomorrow, then perhaps he could keep it all from tearing him apart. At least, that was what he told himself. But he was a fool, as those in love can be.

“Until tomorrow, my love.”

He couldn’t look at her as he let her fingers fall abandoned to her sides, as he took the first of many steps in the direction away from her, the way he did not want to go.

The ephemerality of existence had briefly been eclipsed by the lightness she had brought him. But he was not a black hole, and nor was she. The gold would not stay.

She had told him that she would wait for him, but who was to say when they would meet again? It might be months, it might be years. It might be a decade. It might be more.

He couldn’t ask her to wait.

He caught a glimpse of her as he rounded the corner, watched her wrap her arms around her shoulders and duck her head as she went inside. A wave of déjà vu washed over him and steeped his heart in sour melancholy. He was right back where he had started. Far away.

The world would spin as the years passed, and as it turned they would be thrown farther apart, disillusioned by the terrible realisation that what they had always believed to be naïve was exactly so. Nothing would come as a surprise, because nothing changed and nothing was new, no matter how much they might have wished for it to be.

She would forever dance in his memories, but she would not wait.

And he would lay no blame.

Who waits forever anyway?

⭒

a/n: my sincere apologies to everyone who speaks/understands spanish. i’ve been learning spanish for four years now, so i hope that experience was enough to make my grammar acceptable, haha

#this is the angst i was talking about two weeks ago oops #tina's writing #brian may x reader #fic

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sanstropfremir · 4 years ago

Text

it’s the episode 8 review!!! how many episodes is this show supposed to even be?

the stages from the episode feel like such a grab bag.... i still don’t understand why they didn’t put all the skill stages together, and then did the normal two episodes of the third round. i guess it makes sense that they didn’t want to have six stages in one episode and then three in the other two, but eh.

feeling kinda average on these as a whole, there’s a lot of good elements going on here but probably because of my own preferences (i don’t listen to ballads or blackpink) none of them really hit all the buttons. hopefully this will be a shorter review because i'm only going to do a quick rundown of the vocal stages; i dont really have that much to say about them because they are (intentionally) not very stage picture focused. i'll do the normal stage breakdowns for the other two though, even though i won’t rank them because we still need to see the other four!

vocal stages

sf9 + tbz + ikon

not much to say here other than wow, that’s RED. glad to see some more specific use of spotlighting and i always love when they light things on fire. i do wish they had fill lit with a brighter amber so we could actually get a bit more detail on their faces, especially because there’s six of them. i appreciated the simple blocking and only using one of the ‘stages,’ this stage didn’t need to be anything complicated and it wasn’t. i don’t love spinning camera shots because they make me a bit ill, and i'll forgive the constant cutting because it's a vocal stage and there isn’t any other real movement that we should be paying attention to. not my favourite of the two, i found it visually a bit too repetitive and complex at the same time. always love a crushed velvet suit though, so bonus points for that.

atz + skz + btob

i was braced for the worst and i dont know what kind of miracle happened but it was listenable! like i said, not a ballad fan but i could listen to eunkwang all day. i love a good plinth for a ballad stage, they’re one of my favourite devices in kpop design and i especially love it with a good groundlevel fog. glad they kept it black and white for the first half of the stage, it was in line with the blooming flower projections, and it made a very clear colour arc. they kept the visuals clean and simple with very little blocking at all, a very smart choice for this stage. not sure why they decided it would be the chanel time stage, which i disapprove of because i don’t like chanel, but i do love eunkwang’s shirt with the cameo buttons and the massive turnback cuffs, very 17th and also 19th century. i know they never do it because they dont read on stage normally but yes absolutely more thin chain pendant chokers on men, thank you! i also liked that there was emphasis on a more traditional lighting scheme, there weren't any crazy concert effects, just some good directional beam spotlights and the rear stacks in the climax.

third round stages

ikon

costume

the first look for them is definitely my fabourite of theirs so far. there’s enough variation in the jackets that the base layer of tshirt and jeans don’t look too repetitive. and i do love a good statement jacket. my favourite is probably donghyuk’s because i'm a sucker for fringe always.

i don’t like the backup dancers costumes, but given the way i’ve reacted to every other all black outfit for this entire show i don’t think anyone was surprised about that. these ones particularly irk me because they’re very matte; there's pretty much no texture or pattern differentials to define the shape of the limb, which makes them disappear when theyre all grouped together (mostly on the women). i think they probably were intending to make a statement/emphasis on the hands because of the sleeve cutoff point, but there were so many arm movements that were just totally missed because the costumes were just black voids. most egregious parts are here, with the female dancers up center. i can barely tell what the movements are unless i’m paying specific attention to them because there's so many black shapes. maybe it was the point for it to be an indiscernable writhing mass, but it wasn’t my vibe.

don’t love this styling on lisa. i hate peeptoe shoes in general but peeptoe boots are the worst offenders. they make you look like you have duck feet, no matter who you are. especially with a flat cutout like that. a universally unflattering shoe, and i would know, i worked in a shoe store for two years. this whole look is just pg-13 rihanna cfda awards 2014 and really nobody should try to run up against rihanna.

also i have to mention this because it’s actually really bothering me, but lisa’s backup dancers are serving very allgemeine ss looks and i do not like it. generally when we see ‘military’ uniforms in kpop theyre usually modelled off older styles (pre wwii) of western uniforms that usually aren’t in circulation, and they’re usually non-matching and embellished in ways that are deliberately not military. i know logically that it's a budget constraint+they’re backup dancers+current trend thing but the clean lines with only button detailing and the all black and that specific harness shape? it hit my brain the wrong way. i mean, technically those uniforms are designer because hugo boss did them, but the uh..... girlboss move didn’t land for me.

this is my PERSONAL OPINION please for the love of all that is holy do not come yelling at me about this. it’s all under a cut, you chose to read the post.

set

very glad to see some busy kitschy sets! this is a massive build, since there’s essentially three full sets here: the temple, the jungle, and the first tiny room. and all of them are very heavily decorated.

the starting room is just five walls on casters (wheels), that have been set into place with the cameraman and ikon inside at the start, and then once they exit the walls can be easily struck and rolled off set. simple, smart, and convenient!

i missed it the first couple times around but glitching out the projections in the temple for a split second was a neat little trick.

the silver and polygonal nature of the tiger/panther/cat(?) head is a bit disconnected from the gold and the aesthetic of the rest of the stage for me. the difference between the original room set and the jungle tracks, but the cat head isnt able to make the same leap for me. i'm also not a fan of mixing metals so maybe that’s why.

the tiger/panther/cat(?) head is a fun physical transitional device; i'm a big fan of tunnels and small transitory spaces like that and if they’re well dressed like this one they do so much for establishing place and mood.

i'm very sure i’ve seen this style of polygonal animal head with laser eyes before....i cannot for the life of me remember where or for what. i know wang yibo did a panther stage for sdc3 that had a human formation panther with green laser eyes, i wonder if i'm just crossing wires.

OH nevermind it’s because it looks like the witcher medallion. wires were definitely crossed.

lighting

using purple/teal lighting for the jungle was a smart choice because purple is the direct compliment to the gold and also is much more flattering on humans than green. green is one of the colours that humans can see the most variations in, so when something is green when it's not supposed to be (like human skin), we register that very quickly and associate it with unease and sickness. you know how old fluorescent lights have that greenish tinge that kinda makes you feel ill? it's your cone cells and your brain recognizing that you’re looking at things that are not supposed to be green.

very clean colour arc, i love to see it.

sound

it’s.....fine? i don’t listen to blackpink and have no opinions on their music other than it's not my type. i dont really know what the thematic connection to the visuals is, which is not strictly necessary in a lot of cases, but i don’t particularly care for the conflation of ‘savage’ and a (presumably) precolonial religion that’s assembled from stereotypes of real colonized cultures. you can come at me about how ‘it's not that deep’ all you want but i am here specifically doing an in depth analysis, and i gotta point it out. i'm not here to pass judgement on you if you didn’t realize or don’t care or whatever, i'm just saying that it's important to consume content with a critical eye. what you do with that information is your own personal choice, but you should be aware of it at least.

staging

they took a big risk eating popcorn right before singing, and we definitely got some residual mouth noises of them trying to clean out their teeth. eating on stage is difficult in general because you have to make sure it's not going to dry out the performers mouths, because they dont have access to water and it takes WAY longer to chew and swallow something than you would expect. there’s a LOT of testing that goes into making stage food and guaranteed it’s not made out of what it looks like or what its supposed to be; i worked on a production of amadeus were we did literal weeks of testing amalgams of different desserts to make sure that salieri could actually eat the ones onstage without totally drying him out, because fun fact about that show, salieri doesnt leave stage like, at all, so there was no way to get him water. poor bloke.

i thought the blocking of this was really smart. the long take from the ‘normal’ room and transition into the jungle was super slick, even if that weird circle the camera did while pointed up at the ceiling was unnecessary and pointless.

bobby’s ‘acting’ was extremely funny and that’s the only way people are allowed to act surprised now. edvard munsch scream style only.

the pacing is a bit off and this time it wasn’t mnet’s editing that fucked it up. as fun as it is to have a feature, clearly she wasn’t allowed within proximity of the rest of them for covid or other yg related reasons, but it made for some extremely long transitions, especially the one out of her verse. it kills the momentum of the stage in that beat, even though they manage to pick it up after.

this is a very simple little narrative arc that’s easy to follow and doesn’t require any extra explaining. which is exactly the kind of arc that groups should be doing at this stage in the game. this is a good formic step up for ikon!

i thought the turning off of the monitor at the end was fun and a good callback to them watching the videos at the beginning of the stage. a nice clean way to make it circular.

skz

costume

FINALLY something different on the skz boys! these were mostly fun eboy looks for them, and i like it on the basis that it's not the same as the last set of costumes.

bang chan out there with his thigh OUT and a (fake) bridge piercing? LOVE to see it. great work.

(copy-paste every thing i’ve said about backup dancers wearing all black)

the backup dancers that were dressed as bystanders/extras were great! they should have kept that with all of them because it would have given a little more shape to the choreography and establishing what function the backup dancers were supposed to have.

set

that is meant to be a giant rice cooker on stage, right? i think so because it's a god’s menu mashup? if that's not a rice cooker i have NO idea what its supposed to be

there’s only two large setpieces here, which was a smart way to go. i LOVE the subway car doubling as the truck, even if the truck itself makes no narrative sense. what a fun way to double the use of a single big piece. you’ll be able to see the way it moves in the full cam but it splits down the centre and there entrance doors at the back with attached stairs that bang chan and the dancers use to climb up.

lighting

not a whole lot happening here. i like the cool white leds in the subway car and the contrast with the more warm tones of the outside, which is good atmospheric establishment, but i can't discern a visible arc.

not a fan of these projections; they’re in line with what we’ve seen from skz so far, which is: extremely literal. i dont think they’re that distracting, but they’re not to my personal taste. they really should have kept the comic panel theme that they did for changbin’s first verse, because that was inventive and fun to watch! and a great atmospheric indicator! i would love to see a bit more experimental projection use but it's hard when they don’t have a lot of time to build these stages and the lighting team is definitely working remotely.

sound

i love that they made the choice to do some actual talking, it’s a good gimmick and it works for the deadpool/comic book/fourth wall break theme, but australian accents take me the fuck out i am so sorry i cannot listen to either felix or bang chan speak english without laughing uncontrollably.

i don’t like this arrangement but i'm not surprised about that, given my predilections. i'm also tired of skz shouting STRAY KIDS in every performance they do. i know on music shows it's probably more relevant and yea producers tags are a thing but we’ve been watching this show for nearly two months at this point. we know who you are, you can stop yelling. be more creative with it!

staging

my biggest issue with this stage is that it doesn’t have a payoff. there is an arc here: they’re stealing the truck, but why are they stealing the truck? who are they stealing it from? who are they fighting against? it's kind of important in a stage where the theme is stealing and fighting someone that you tell us who that is. in both of ateez’s previous stages were they were both stealing (rhythm ta) and fighting (wonderland), they made sure to show us who the villain was. there needs to be tension for a big blowup climax to actually pay off. whether it be against a a balloon arm kraken or a fascist government. this stage could have reached that next step if they’d just done a little bit more exposition.

there were a lot of fun choreo moments here, and this is probably my favourite choreo of theirs so far. i thought the whole first bit in the subway car was excellent and a very fun play on those viral videos that we used to see roll around every so often of dancers doing routines in subway cars.

did it need the guns? not in the slightest. more on this point later. i could talk more about weapons and weight here, but i’ve done that several times already.

like with the tbz game of thrones stages, theyre relying a little too much on the audience's preconceptions of the source material in order to carry the theme. the guns are there because deadpool likes guns, but they don’t actually use the guns for anything? the most we get of the stealing segment is felix and the safe, which admittedly is a great bit with him leaping over and under the ‘laser’ lines (theyre likely led strips). because comic books are by nature procedural and deeply tied to narrative, it's unsatisfying when there’s no tension and no payoff.

HOW did we manage to get two stages that are blackpink covers with remote/tv static gimmick and durags? i know the slot machine of kpop tropes is not very big but surely the probability of hitting triple sevens on this one was pretty low. i’m pretty meh on both of these stages overall. skz was unsatisfying but i loved the choreo in the subway bit so that bumped it up a little ahead of ikon’s in my personal preferences, but i'm reserving my actual rankings for next week. assuming we get the other four stages next week and they dont do something stupid and only show two. which they very well might. i’ve stopped trying to understand why mnet does things the way that they do.

as always the ask box is open, drop your comments/questions/personal opinions, i love to hear ‘em! but don’t be rude just because some of this is touchier subject material.

#kingdom #ateez #btob #ikon #sf9 #the boyz #stray kids #military uniforms are a weird one and i always find it a bit....(squiggly face emoji) when they get used in kpop stages #everybody is one of the exceptions because its used as a direct critique #but this is a very personal opinion as someone who has done a lot of historical research on military uniforms in particular #so im hyperaware of that kind of thing #be cool about this one people please and thank you!#im so glad this came in under 3k #kingdom review #kpop analysis #text #ive had to write a lot of deeply critical art practice analysis in the last week and i would like to sleep

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pearlsephoni · 4 years ago

Text

Barre None

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Pairing: Zutara (Zuko/Katara)

Characters: Katara, Zuko, Suki, Piandao (v. briefly)

Summary: Katara hated the idea of being a cliche. The last thing she wanted to do was fall for her co-star. But with a partner like Zuko, perhaps she was doomed from the start.

A/N: Written for Day 3 of Zutara Fanwork Appreciation Week: Fanart. Inspired by @ourgraciousqueen‘s beautiful Ballet Zutara sketches and @unidentifiedspoon‘s stunning Katara and Zuko dancebending animations. I also borrowed heavily from the Royal Oprah House’s production of Romeo and Juliet, specifically the choreography of the Balcony Pas de Deux, which pops up a bunch in this lol don’t cancel me More Author’s Notes can be seen on AO3!

@zkfanworkweek

Katara wasn’t afraid of being in a starring role. She was nervous, yes, but she was mostly thrilled. She had spent her three years of college with the student ballet troupe, and she’d expected to have to wait until her senior year to get a solo, much less a lead role. Funnily enough, the senior who would have had the lead, Suki, was the lead choreographer, and has actually been the one to suggest Katara for the role.

She wasn’t even nervous for the pas de deux, even though it would be her first time being a part of one.

No, there were only two things that scared her about this year’s show: the show was Romeo and Juliet, and the Romeo to her Juliet would be...Zuko.

To be fair to the first-year grad student, he seemed just as startled by the news as she felt. Katara got to the first rehearsal early, just in time to overhear a conversation between her co-star and their director. “Uh...are you sure you want me as Romeo?”

“If we weren’t sure,” Director Piandao said with a wry smile, “we wouldn’t have cast you.”

“I...right. I mean, thank you, I’m...I’m honored.”

Katara couldn’t be sure if the raspiness in his voice was from nerves or Zuko just...being Zuko. Awkward, quiet, intimidating Zuko.

This would be fine. Just fine.

———————— ———————— ————————

She wasn’t fine.

Zuko was a brilliant dancer. Piandao wouldn’t have cast him as Romeo if he wasn’t. And while he was reserved and awkward in daily life, all that seemed to fall away when he performed. When his back straightened, the omnipresent weight on his shoulders disappeared, and his eyes brightened into stars. Offstage, his smiles were rare, but onstage, they came easily. Happiness, pleading, grief, anger, it all looked unnervingly natural and real on him, as though all the emotions he held back burst forth through his characters.

Katara had known all this. She had seen him perform. But she hadn’t ever seen him perform at her. She’d prided herself on her own performance and dance and acting abilities, but when she performed with Zuko, she found herself reacting naturally to him and the achingly real love and longing that lit up his gold eyes. Her heart seemed to skip a beat every time the choreography and direction called for them to gaze into each other’s eyes.

And then the dancing...she’d heard how easy a pas de deux could be with the right partner, but that still didn’t prepare her for how natural it would feel. Any worries she had about being able to trust in Zuko to catch her and lift her and support her were gone by the end of the first rehearsal. Even Piandao looked surprised at how quickly they were able to learn together. They were able to put the first several counts of the Balcony Pas de Deux to music by the end of their first rehearsal with just the two of them. The lifts were complicated, but Zuko seemed to know just the right place to hold her, and Katara knew just how to drape herself over him, just how much to leap to him and make the lifts easier for him.

The last counts that they had learned that day ended with Zuko kneeling, hands holding onto Katara’s waist as she rose into an arabesque. When the music turned off, Katara stepped down from en pointe, but she stepped further into Zuko’s hands, inadvertently bringing their faces closer to each other. Her breath caught in her throat, and she saw Zuko’s eyes widen, a rosy hue rising to his cheeks.

The sound of a throat clearing jerked their attention back to Piandao, who watched them with a mix of amusement and...something else. “Well, and here you were both so worried. It’s been a while since I’ve directed a pair of dancers who work together so well.”

Katara looked back at Zuko to share a smile, but that just reminded them of their close proximity. “Oh!” she gasped, stepping back and out of his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...sorry.”

“It’s...it’s ok.” He was still kneeling, and he didn’t get to his feet until after he stared at her for an extra moment, as though trying to puzzle something out about her. “Director Piandao’s right...I, um...I really enjoy dancing with you.”

“...Me, too.” His compliment settled warm like an ember in her chest, at odds with the feeling of sparkling giddiness she could feel bubbling through her. Oh no...that can’t be good.

———————— ———————— ————————

Weeks of rehearsal passed. The show was quickly coming together, the set builders and stage crew had begun pulling together plans for the set and lighting and sound design, and everything was chugging along right on schedule.

But Katara felt wretched. The weeks of rehearsal meant weeks of dancing with Zuko, and spending time with Zuko, and getting to know Zuko. One day, after a weekend afternoon rehearsal, he mentioned his uncle owning a bubble tea shop, a fact that piqued Katara’s curiosity. He invited her along, and that was how she ended up getting to know Zuko’s Uncle Iroh, tea connoisseur and loving father figure. After that, they somehow fell into a routine of working on homework at the tea shop before or after rehearsal, and lingering for a bit longer to just...chat, after their work was done.

The more Katara got to know Zuko, the more she learned what a kind, hardworking, and earnest man he was...and the more she began to like him. Really like him. To the point where she wished she could dance Juliet’s choreography without being Juliet, just let her growing affections for her dance partner shine through.

Matters got worse when Suki let them know it was time to choreograph the kissing. It wasn’t much, just one in a couple of scenes. A small part of Katara almost wished there were more kisses, if only so that she stood a chance to maybe get used to kissing Zuko (and maybe, just a little bit, so she could have an extra excuse to kiss him).

The sprinkling of choreographed kisses meant she had plenty of time to anticipate each one, her heart leaping into her throat the moment Zuko began taking Romeo’s steps towards her. The first time they kissed, she nearly forgot the rest of the choreography, only remembering to move because of the guiding hands at her waist.

Suki and Piandao blessedly didn’t notice the cause of her distraction, but they were both too sharp to not realize something was going on.

“Is everything ok?”

Katara jumped from where she was crouched by her bag. “Suki! Hi! I’m doing alright, why?”

“It’s just...you seem like you’ve been having a hard time with some of the choreography, and you were doing so well...I wasn’t sure if there was something you wanted to change, or if there was something else I could do to help?”

“Oh, Suki, I’m so sorry.” Guilt tasted sour in Katara’s mouth - here she was, an underclassman given the chance to star in such an iconic role, and she was messing it all up because of a guy. “I’m ok, I just...I just need to get more practice, I think?”

“Do you want us to reserve the studio for you and Zuko sometime this week?”

“That’d be great, thank you! Oh! But Suki?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell Zuko. I’m the one messing up, I’ll be the one to figure this out.”

“...Sure, Katara.”

It was her own fault, really, for thinking it would be that easy.

She didn’t even have it in her to be surprised when she ran into Zuko at the studio. “...Did Suki snitch on me?”

Zuko’s eyes were lined with concern, but he couldn’t help letting out a small cough of laughter at Katara’s dull words. “Don’t get upset with her. She mentioned she would be reserving a studio for you, but I was the one who asked for the time and day.” When Katara didn’t show any sign of being swayed by his explanation, he tried again. “We don’t have to practice together for the whole time, I can stay out of your way and get some solo practice in, but...y’know, if you wanted to go over the pas de deux altogether...I could be there for you.”

Either her crush was making her soft or those gold eyes were more than effective in their entreaty, but either way, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. Zuko stayed true to his word - he stayed out of her way, quietly warming up by himself before stretching on the floor by the mirror, keeping himself limber for whenever Katara asked him to join.

It didn’t take very long. There was only so much she could do by herself to work on a pas de deux. At some point, she just felt ridiculous, holding onto an invisible hand or compensating for the lack of support with a half-heart arabesque and pirouette, when her perfectly-willing partner was right there. He brightened up visibly when she sheepishly beckoned him, and wasted no time in getting to her side. “From the top, then?”

Katara felt herself re-entering the performance sweet spot she always loved, where she could let herself get carried by the music and choreography while still feeling grounded and remembering to actually act and perform. And for the first time in a while, she felt good in Zuko’s hands, her nerves at least temporarily leaving her to enjoy and trust in her partner.

But nerves are a funny thing. For most of the pas de deux, Katara didn’t let herself get distracted by Zuko’s proximity, nor the intimacy of the way their fingers tangled together and his cheek pressed against her body and his lips brushed against her knuckles. Then, the moment he began taking those final steps towards her, all of her anxiety flooded back to her.

He’s not going to kiss me. Piandao and Suki aren’t here and he has no reason to kiss me without an audience-

Her internal reality check was interrupted by the very external feeling of Zuko’s lips against hers. She gasped against him, but when he began to move away, misunderstanding her gasp, she pressed forward, the rest of the choreography forgotten. She stayed en pointe, but only because it made it easier for her to drape her arms around his shoulders and press in close. His hands, which were supposed to hold onto her waist to support her, began to move up her back as he stepped forward, until he was supporting her with his body.

This was not the stage kiss that Katara had gotten used to. He wasn’t forceful at all - his lips were careful and gentle - but they were also achingly tender, as though he were truly cherishing every touch of his lips to hers. They parted, but he never made a move to deepen the kiss, until Katara boldly swiped her tongue along his lower lip. It was his turn to gasp in surprise, but he was more than happy to keep up with her pace.

When they separated, it was only because Katara’s legs couldn’t hold her up anymore, forcing her feet to flatten to the ground again. “Shoot,” she muttered, earning a soft laugh from Zuko. She couldn’t help looking up at him with a shy smile, not expecting his smile to fade into a guilty grimace. “Zuko-?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I shouldn’t have-“

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I kissed you...like...like that.”

“Zuko...I kissed you back. If I didn’t like it, I would’ve let you know.”

That made him smile again, though his grin was wry. “...That’s true.”

Katara felt like she was glowing with giddy bliss, but that faded when the complications of their positions caught up with her. “What...what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“The show is still a month away. I like you, Zuko...I like you a lot, honestly”-the surprised glee on his face nearly made her stop speaking, but she muscled through-“but I don’t want to risk...complicating...things.” She didn’t want to become the underclassman who was incapable of performing a romance without it becoming a real-life romance, and she certainly didn’t want to risk causing any drama with a backstage romance.

Zuko’s face fell, but before she could try to clarify what she meant, he was nodding. “I understand...but I don’t want us to stop spending time together. I really, really like you, Katara. So much that I’d rather keep spending time with you as a friend than make things complicated for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. The fact that you feel the same way about me is more than I’d ever hoped for. Knowing that will make any waiting easy.”

Somehow, his reassurance and respect for her wishes suddenly made Katara want to push the boundaries a little more. “You don’t want to try and date in secret?”

She wasn’t expecting his snort of response. “Director Piandao would sniff us out in no time. I’m pretty sure he already suspects something.”

Well...he wasn’t wrong.

———————— ———————— ————————

The month leading up to the show was the smoothest the ballet troupe had ever experienced. Somehow, the stars aligned and allowed all the sets to be built, all the lighting and sound effects to be set, and all the costumes to be adjusted to the performers with nary a technical difficulty in sight. As for the performers themselves, the choreography was smoothed into a perfect shine. The ensembles were synchronised, the lifts and leaps looked effortless, and everyone gushed over the chemistry between Katara and Zuko.

And Katara was miserable. She had thought that getting all their feelings in the open would make the rest of the rehearsal process easier. But now that she’d gotten a taste of Zuko’s true kisses, his shy smiles and the way he brushed her curls behind her ear, she couldn’t seem to feel satisfied with their onstage romance. The sweet kisses that had made her blood sing in her veins now left her longing for something more, and his lovestruck visage as Romeo didn’t make her heart skip the way his blushes and embarrassed grimaces as Zuko did.

Not that anyone else noticed a difference. Zuko was as brilliant as ever, and Katara could only hope she was pushing herself enough to be a worthy partner to him. Judging by Piandao and Suki’s pleased smiles, and the words of encouragement from their castmates, it felt fair to guess that she was doing a pretty good job.

And so the final month passed in a blur of rehearsals and “dates” to the Jasmine Dragon and her feelings for Zuko growing and growing until she thought she might burst with how much she cared for him.

The weekend of performances that she was so excited for at the beginning of the semester had somehow become a part of that blissful, miserable blur, the final obstacle she had to clear. Among the cheering audiences, the glowing reviews from her loved ones, and busy rush of the performances, one moment in particular stood out to Katara: finding a single, snow white lily tucked into the side of her bag after their first performance. She had immediately tucked it into her braid, and was rewarded by a furiously blushing Zuko as the cast and crew left the building for their opening night dinner.

Everyone was exhausted, but proud, when the weekend of performances was finally over. At their cast party, Suki passed a message from Piandao: there would be an informal class the following week to review how the performances went, and what they’d like to keep and fix in the process for their next show. There would be some simple warmups at the start and cool-downs at the end, for the sake of routine, but otherwise the optional meeting would be for the sake of review.

Katara already knew she'd go. And when she caught Zuko’s eye and saw his smile, she knew he’d be there as well. After all, they had their own important conversation to have.

When the day of the meeting came, she managed to get there a bit early, and was relieved to see Zuko already there, tugging his slippers on.

“Hey, Zuko?”

“Yeah?”

Oh, she hated this. Hated this feeling of being on uneven ground, the nerves and weird shyness and uncertainty bubbling through her. He likes you, you know he likes you.

And yet. When those golden eyes landed on hers, and those lips curved into a genuine smile at the sight of her, she felt delirious with the disbelief of her own luck. Surely this was a fluke. Surely this handsome, talented, respected (though a bit awkward) guy had made a mistake in liking her.

She shoved those thoughts away, and let a shy smile curve her lips. “I, um...I was wondering if you’d like to...if you’d like to dance with me?”

“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised, even a little shy. “I thought you’d be tired of dancing with me by now.”

“Oh...are you tired of dancing with me?”

“No!” His answer was immediate, making Katara blink in surprise. Zuko flushed, but he still shook his head resolutely. “No, I could never get tired of dancing with you. I just thought...with the show being over and all…”

“With the show being over, I thought it’d be nice if we could just...dance as ourselves. No characters or story or anything, just...us.”

Zuko’s blush deepened, and his smile widened. “I’d love to.”

They stayed behind after their class. Theirs was the last class of the day, and they didn’t need to warm up before their “date” could properly begin. Katara did her best to ignore the knowing smiles of Piandao and their classmates when she lingered behind and took her time packing away her things. Piandao even made a point to leave the door unlocked behind him, something he’d never done before. By the time it was just the two of them in the studio, Zuko’s cheeks were red again, and Katara couldn’t hold back a giggle at the sight.

“So...do you have anything in mind?” she asked him, her laugh still decorating her words.

“Yeah, actually...you might hate me for this, but...I was wondering if you’d want to do the Balcony pas de deux?”

“You have me in a studio all to yourself, and you want to do the same thing we’ve been doing for months already?” Katara teased, letting herself drift closer to him while grinning at how flustered she was making him.

“It’s not- I mean- I just thought-” He caught the grin on her lips and frowned slightly when he realized she was teasing him, though his eyes glittered with amusement. When he spoke again, his words came a lot steadier. “It’s like what you said. I wanted to dance it with you one last time...not as Romeo and Juliet, but just...ourselves.”

That made Katara go quiet. It was her turn to watch Zuko approach her, warmth traveling up her arm when he carefully took her hand and began tracing his thumb along her skin. She ducked her head to look at their hands, hoping she could hide the flush that had spread across her cheeks, before she quietly admitted, “I...I think, at some point, I was already dancing with you as...as myself.”

“Oh…then...then show me.”

Katara met his eyes again, and another wave of warmth washed over her at the small, understanding grin on his face. “Okay.”

The music of the pas de deux felt like home, the familiar notes carrying her to her starting position like it was an instinct. Zuko’s smile as he joined her from the speakers told her he felt the same. But this time, his hands on her felt different somehow. They were still secure, but she felt a flex to them, as though Zuko wanted to press her closer than they already were.

Small changes like that abounded throughout the number. Katara felt like she was floating through it, her practiced limbs carrying her through the choreography, but every so often, there was something just a little different - she didn’t run as far from Zuko, she let herself press against him, let herself hold his hands a moment longer. And he let himself do the same, pressing a kiss to her sternum when the choreography called for him to let his cheek rest against her chest, letting his lips ghost against her cheek when they came face-to-face, his fingers lingering on her body when it’s time for her to leave his hold.

But most changed of all were his eyes. Where before, he had conveyed all the gleeful wonder of a boy falling instantly in love, he now looked like he couldn’t believe his impossible luck, like he couldn’t believe he was here, holding her, dancing with her.

He...he was looking at her with adoration. Open, raw adoration that she’d never before seen directed at her. If she’d thought it was surreal to have his performance skill directed at her, his emotions now were making her breathless.

When it came time for the kiss, Katara didn’t bother pressing up to be en pointe. Zuko took his choreographed steps towards her, but when his hands came to her waist again, she didn’t give him the chance to lift her onto her toes. Her arms were already around his neck, tugging him down to her, his surprised grunt smothered between their colliding lips. He thankfully, blessedly, wasn’t as shy about kissing her this time, his lips quickly parting on hers, inviting her to taste and feel and memorize every part of his kiss. Her hands set out to do the same to his body, his leotard making it easy for her to map his muscles and relish the way she could feel them jump under her fingertips.

But it was a poor substitute for feeling his skin, and she didn’t realize she had started plucking at his leotard until he pulled away with a breathless laugh. “Maybe you should take me to dinner before you go that far?”

Katara’s eyes widened, mortification coloring her cheeks a deep red. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-”

Zuko cut her off with a sweet kiss, immediately melting her panic away. “It’s ok, I wanted to do the same. But...would you? Like to go to dinner with me, sometime?”

“As a date? An actual, more-than-friends date?”

“Of course! I mean, only if...If that’s what you want.”

She swore he was the only person who could get kissed within an inch of his life and still be so sweet and concerned about crossing boundaries. “Zuko, what I want is an excuse to keep seeing you and kissing you as much as possible. I like you so much, it’s almost embarrassing. Of course I’ll go to dinner with you.”

Zuko’s smile was so sunny, so bright, so warm, that Katara was ready to promise him the world just to see that smile again. Thankfully, he was far more interested in getting more kisses than anything else, and she was more than happy to oblige.

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captainsolare · 4 years ago

Text

Concert

Fluffvember Day 7: Concert - Leopold Vermillion (f! reader)

Summary: You're a classical violinist and tonight is your big debut at the Castle Town concert hall. Your long-time friend Leopold is in the audience, and he begins to see you in a whole new light after watching you achieve your biggest dream

Word Count: 1,825

A/N: I’m probably a little biased because I am a classical violinist, but this was by far my favorite one to write so far this month! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The Max Bruch Violin Concerto no. 1 partly inspired this so if you would like to, listen to the first movement.

masterlist

-----

You stood in the atrium of the concert hall, patrons, mostly upper crust and royalty, milling about and drinking before the event began. "Ugh Y/N, I don't know how you can stand going to these events. Everything is so stuffy, even the clothing." Your friend Leopold complained, pulling the collar of his dress shirt away from his neck. You rolled your eyes, at him lightly punching him in the arm, "Going to these events, is kind of my job you know. Plus, orchestra music isn't stuffy, you're just lame and have no taste."

Leo was about to object but before he could do so a bell was rung and you had to dash off. "Sorry! That's my cue to go change, I'll see you after the concert okay?" You said apologetically, planting a chaste goodbye kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the crowd. The kiss was meant as a friendly gesture, nothing more, the two of you had grown up quite close after all, but nonetheless Leo was left standing there dumbstruck, hand lightly touching the place your lips had been a moment before.

He gathered himself and entered the concert hall, heading for the Vermillion family box; he was a little nervous he had to admit, he was the sole Vermillion sibling here tonight and so a lot of eyes were on him. Fuegoleon was away on an important business matter and who knows where Mereoleona was, she usually couldn't be bothered to come to events like this, they were far too constricting for her wild nature.

Even though Leo found these events stuffy, like most of his royal duties, he came tonight without much complaint because tonight would be the first time he would get to see you perform a concerto with an orchestra as large as this one. You had picked up the violin at an early age, and had been traveling the country playing at concert halls all over, but tonight would be your big debut on the Castle Town stage and Leo was excited. Not because he particularly enjoyed orchestral music like this, but because it was something you enjoyed. Growing up, he had always admired the way your eyes sparkled as you talked about your dreams of someday playing on this stage, and here you were achieving the dream you had worked so hard for.

The first piece was a long drawn out number that had him nearly falling asleep, Mimosa, his cousin, had to elbow him several times to keep him from snoring. He supposed he should have felt a bit sheepish, but you weren't onstage so he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. During intermission Mimosa turned to him excitedly, "Y/N is on next, isn't that so exciting?" He nodded, "Yeah! This is her big dream!"

Intermission seemed to be over in a flash, the lights dimming and he waited with bated breath as the spotlight lit up the space you'd walk through shortly. When you appeared Leo felt his breath hitch, you were in a stunning turquoise dress, sparkling in the light that illuminated the stage. "Wow." Mimosa whispered, awestruck. He could only nod in agreement, the dress suited you perfectly, the perfect battle armor to conquer the stage tonight.

When you'd told him about this concert a few weeks ago, it had taken everything in him not to launch himself across the table and wrap you up in a bear hug. Well, almost everything, despite him trying not to, he did it anyway, leaving you both grinning ear to ear and laughing with excitement.

The audience clapped and you shook hands with the conductor and the concertmaster then took up your post near the front of the stage. Leo remembered you mentioning that you were nervous about playing from memory, so he silently cheered you on, hoping you could hear him in your heart.

As the timpani began playing, your eyes searched the audience, your hands were sweaty and your heart was pounding, you couldn't see the audience very well because of the spotlights but you knew there was a familiar head of red hair out in the crowd and that gave you comfort. The flutes and woodwinds came in next and you prepared to come in with your cadenza.

From the second your first note reached his ears, to the second your last chord echoed through the hall Leo simply found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Your notes were spellbinding, taking his breath away and telling a story with just sound, it was a language unlike any he had heard before. He had always admired you, your strength of character, your sense of humor, your honesty, brutal at times but that's definitely when he needed to hear it the most; but tonight, something tugged at his heartstrings and was rooting in his brain, and suddenly he saw you in a whole new light.

When the concerto ended you were a panting mess, any trace of nervousness had evaporated as you reached the end, a beaming smile appeared on your face as you bowed, the roar of applause filling your ears. From somewhere in the crowd you heard a distinct whistle and you had to contain your laughter, that was definitely Leo. I guess he liked it then? That's fantastic! You probably wouldn't admit this to anyone, but when you got up on this stage tonight you didn't care about all the opinions of the various noble folk and royalty that had attended, if you were being honest the most important, and perhaps the only opinion that mattered to you was Leopold's.

You made your way to the atrium because you had to accept your congratulations from the audience members in person, it was simply good practice. Several people congratulated you, others noted that you played well even though you were not royalty, you took each comment with grace and a smile, praying that you'd be able to go home soon and celebrate as you wished to; perhaps with a long soak in the bath to ease your aching muscles.

Leo and Mimosa appeared in the atrium, eyes scanning the room for a sign of you; Mimosa couldn't help but be amused by the way you both perked up as you caught sight of one another. Ahh, young love. She mused, then giggled to herself, who am I kidding? I'm young too.

Leo made a beeline for you as soon as your current conversation ended and grabbed your hands with excitement. "Oh Y/N, that was so amazing, I could just kiss you right now!" He said, practically buzzing with energy. You deadpanned and he was about to pull away, but rather than pulling away as well you said, "Kiss me then." It was almost a challenge, and Leo backed down from it, suddenly hyper-aware of all the people watching you; he lost his nerve and decided to change the subject.

"Do you--- do you need someone to come with you? To help carry your things?" He asked, nervous about even this small interaction for some reason. Mentally he kicked himself, usually, conversation was so easy with you, but now he was just a bumbling mess. Your face fell into a smile, "That would be lovely Leo." You led the way to the green room and greeted the other performers, thanking them for a job well done. As you packed your things, Leo couldn't help but notice the slight frown that twisted your features. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. When you nodded he dropped the subject, opting instead to carry your things as he had promised.

The atrium was empty when you emerged from the green room, and you found yourself in awkward silence with Leo. Secretly, you were disappointed that he hadn't taken you up on your challenge earlier and you didn't know how to feel about it. Do I really have feelings for him? Leo's thoughts seemed to be on the same track as yours as you exited the building into the night air.

"Did you mean it?" "Mean what?" You asked, turning to face him; in an attempt to not misconstrue things you weren't going to answer unless he asked you exactly what was on his mind. A blush graced Leo's features and his heart was pounding in his head, "Did you actually want me to kiss you back there?"

You tilted your head, trying to sort through your emotions so you could give him a straight answer. "I think so. I'm not really sure, I just, I said that without thinking and I'm not sure of what exactly I'm feeling right now." Leo gulped, trying to gather up the courage for his next question, "Do you… do you still want me to?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded, eyes not leaving your friend for a second as he carefully set your things on the ground next to him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and awkwardly grabbed your arms as he leaned in, the kiss was short and sweet, but it left you with an unsatisfied feeling and solidified in your mind that you did, in fact, want to kiss him. In fact, you wanted to kiss his stupid face again and again.

Leo looked away awkwardly, wanting to kiss you again but not sure how to ask. Luckily he didn't have to, as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him in closer to you. "Do you want me to?" You asked breathlessly, you were so close you could feel each other's breaths on your lips. When he nodded you didn't hesitate, slamming your lips into his.

Mimosa appeared from out of the concert hall, a mixture of wanting to roll her eyes and cheer seeping into her expression. "Took you guys long enough." She said, hands on her hips and looking away; she was happy for you both but the last thing she wanted to watch was your makeout session.

The two of you jumped and pulled apart quickly at her sudden interjection. "What do you mean, took us long enough?" You asked, a little sheepish at the implication that she had known your feelings long before you had. "Don't worry about it. Want to go get some ice cream or something to go celebrate your big night?" You and Leo exchanged a glance, "Absolutely!" Mimosa led the way to the nearby ice cream shop, you and Leo trailing a little ways behind.

"Was tonight exactly how you dreamed it would be?" He asked as you walked hand in hand. You shook your head and smiled at him, glancing at your intertwined hands, "Nope, it was even better."

"Hurry up or I'll eat without you!" Mimosa yelled, interrupting your moment for a second time that night. You both chuckled and sped up to meet her at the door, filled with the feeling of a new chapter beginning.

#Fluffvember 2020 #f!reader #leopold vermillion fluff #leopold x reader #aurora borealis #planet fluffvember

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theotherackerman · 3 years ago

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

NOTES:

Monday January 18th

song eren sings: hey stephen-taylor swift

chapter twenty: slipped away into a moment in time

Annie did not like doctors to begin with.

They asked too many questions looking for answers she did not have.

Were her parents alive?

Were her parents dead?

She didn’t have the slightest clue.

This doctor decided to go on and on about how Annie needed to know these answers so she could see if the baby was going to need certain genetic testing.

After twenty minutes of arguing with the doctor how she didn’t know and that there was no way for her to find those answers, Annie left.

She wasn’t doing this.

They wouldn’t unseal files just because Annie was pregnant.

Armin trailed after her.

“We’ll find another doctor,” Armin assured her.

“It will just be more of the same questions,” Annie sighed.

“Maybe we find one that’s more understanding,” he reassured her as they walked to the car.

“If you say so,” she replied.

Annie didn’t have much hope.

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

The first lot was mostly empty of both people and cars.

After the salesman tried to argue with Ymir about what type of engine a car had while Ymir was staring at it, they moved onto the second car lot on the list.

The second lot was much better. It had a better selection of cars and there was a woman salesperson.

Ymir drooled over a black Chevy Camaro that was used. It was manual so it was out of the question for Mikasa.

But for Ymir, she knew how to drive a manual.

Both Levi and Mikasa took note of how Ymir was staring at it.

Mikasa ended up staring at a red Dodge Charger.

“You’re going to get so many tickets. Cops favor red,” Levi sighed.

“That would require her to drive over the speed limit,” Ymir scoffed.

“She’s got a point there,” Eren nodded.

“I can hear you,” Mikasa told them.

“It’s your color. What do you think?” Eren asked her.

“You want to take it for a drive?” the saleswoman asked them .

“Go ahead,” Levi sighed.

Once Mikasa, Eren, and Ymir were in the car and driving it around the block with the saleswoman. Levi went to find another one.

“I want to take the black Camaro out,” he informed the people at the desk.

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

Ymir didn’t like this.

She didn’t like how Mikasa was signing a check for Ymir’s car.

“You don’t...you shouldn’t…” Ymir protested.

It took one death glare from Mikasa followed by the words, “shut up.”

The check was signed. The Camaro was Ymir’s.

And suddenly Ymir realized she would never be able to repay this kindness.

“What about Historia? She doesn’t have a car either,” Ymir protested.

“She doesn’t seem like she misses her car that much. If she does, I'll just buy her one too," Mikasa shrugged

"You can't spend all your money on us," Ymir grumbled.

"Learn to take a gift with grace, Ymir," Levi said before he rolled his eyes.

She had not been expecting this at all. She certainly didn't understand it when she was pulling into the driveway.

The Camaro drove like a dream. She had thought she would have forgotten how to drive a manual as it had been so long. But it all came back to her like it was second nature. She could remember learning how to drive it with Jean and Reiner. Jean's mother had got him a Porsche which was, of course, manual. Reiner's truck had been the same. After nagging Historia who Reiner had been dating at the time, Reiner agreed to teach Ymir. It had been a strange moment for Ymir. Because she had been jealous of Reiner's relationships with Historia.

Mikasa pulled into the driveway not long after Ymir with Eren sitting into the front passenger seat.

The ride here had been fairly quiet. She worried about what was going through his mind.

“Do you remember that song you sang for me in high school? Before we got together?” He asked her.

“Which one?” Mikasa asked as she put the car into park.

“It goes something like {lyrics redacted due to copyright},” Eren sang before he undid his seatbelt.

“Nope. No idea what you’re talking about. I’ll see you inside,” Mikasa tried to get out of the car quickly but Eren grabbed her arm.

“Oh come on, you know it. Because half through you shut your notebook, said it was terrible, and changed the subject.”

Mikasa sighed, “what made you think of this?”

“I don’t know. It just kind of popped into my head.” He let go of her arm.

“I was fifteen. I was embarrassed and thought you would know it was about you. That’s why I stopped. Is that the song you added too?”

“Nope. Not that one. Do you still have that notebook?”

She nodded. “It’s in one of the drawers of my desk.”

“Maybe we could play it together,” he said before he looked down.

“It’s embarrassing…” she replied before she opened the door.

“Then I’ll play you one of my old songs written about you. It’s probably more embarrassing than yours. I promise.”

Eren told her before she got out of the car.

Mikasa sighed.

They were supposed to be baring everything. There was supposed to be no secrets between them. She got out of the car, locking it behind her.

“How embarrassing?” she asked him.

“You have no idea,” he told her with a smirk.

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

Hoover Construction and Architecture was who Levi had hired to work in the basement. Bertolt and his father had arrived at the house along with Marco around noon. Turns out that Marco was interning as architect there. They had looked at the basement and future nursery before giving Levi a fair estimate. They were to begin work on the basement on Thursday.

Annie showed up with Armin in tow after lunch.

“You’ll be okay?” he asked Annie as he picked up his backpack.

They had stopped by a pregnancy clinic after their failure with the doctor. Armin had spotted it. The people inside had been extremely nice and understanding. They had helped Annie and Armin find a doctor who would also be just as understanding. Annie had had her first ultrasound. She was eight weeks along.

She had had a breakdown in the car, crying. Annie’s worry had been that maybe there was some secret in her past that had made her parents give her up. An underlying health condition was her worry that she would pass down to her child. She wondered if her parents were alive or dead.

But Armin had reassured her. He had stopped and got her favorite fast food...which she surprisingly had kept down.

“I’ll be fine,” Annie reassured him.

“Don’t worry, Arlert, she’s got the best care anyone could ask for right here,” Ymir grinned as she flung her arm around Annie’s shoulders.

“Oh. I know. Wouldn’t leave her with anyone but family,” Armin smiled.

“Have a safe drive back,” Mikasa told him before pulling on Ymir’s sleeve.

“Thanks, Mikasa,” Armin nodded.

“Yeah, don’t die on us Arlert. You’re the father of my future best friend,” Ymir said before following Mikasa into the kitchen.

“Are you going to be here this weekend?” Armin asked Eren.

“Dunno yet,” he shrugged.

“Well, Annie is letting me borrow her car. You’re what….a half hour from my university? I can swing by if you want….” Armin trailed off.

“I’ll see. We just added Pieck to the band so rehearsal and stuff.”

Armin nodded.

Eren hugged him which Armin happily returned back. Eren nodded before going into the kitchen.

“You’re sure you want me to take the car?” Armin asked her.

Annie nodded.

“I’m a phone call away,” he reassured her.

She nodded again.

He kissed her.

A kiss that was far too short for either of them.

“Drive safe,” she told him.

He nodded again before leaving out the front door.

Moments later, Mikasa appeared with Ymir and Eren in tow.

"Let's see the ultrasound!" Ymir exclaimed.

Levi came in and brought Annie a cup of tea that he place on the coffee table.

Annie couldn’t help but smile.

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

Pieck Finger has been Zeke Yeager’s best friend for far too long of a time. They loved each other. They had amazing chemistry with one another onstage when they had previously played together. This issue was that chemistry was all an act.

Pieck’s mother wanted that chemistry to be more than an act. Oh, how Mrs. Finger wished for Pieck to marry Zeke. She thought that Pieck and Zeke were the perfect match.

There was a problem with all this.

Neither of them had any romantic feelings for one another.

The two had lived next door to one another when they were children. Pieck always bothered Zeke, he would be reading and she’d make him read to her. He had a very hard time saying no to her, even back then.

They had kissed once, when Pieck had been twenty one and Zeke had twenty six.

“Can I kiss you?” she had asked him.

Zeke had dropped the cigarette he had been smoking.

“What the fuck, Pieck?”

“It’s just...well...I was starting to wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

“Are you on drugs? Are you drunk? Maybe you should come to my psych class and get your head examined,” he said before he patted her on the head.

“My mom is always saying how we make a good match so I thought we could see if anything there.”

“Didn’t your mom think you should marry Porco at one point too?”

“Yes, well, I did kiss him too. It felt weird.”

“Did you kiss Marcel too?”

“Hmm...no, I prefer blondes. Besides, you’re thinking about what it would be like to kiss me right now too.”

“Well yeah! Now that you brought it up,” Zeke said as he began to turn red.

“So can I kiss you?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s the worst that can happen?” Zeke said before he leaned down

Pieck kissed him.

While the kiss itself was nice, there was absolutely no emotion behind it on either side.

It didn’t last very long.

“Huh, well...” Pieck said, after a moment of silence.

“Nothing?” Zeke asked.

Pieck nodded, “nothing.”

“Are we going to make this weird now?” he asked her.

“No, I won’t. I don’t know about you.”

“Why would I make it weird?”

“You make everything weird.”

After that, their friendship did indeed stay intact. Neither of them made anything weird about it.

Pieck and Zeke both used the fact that they had kissed to run off Yelena when the woman had not got the hint that her relationship with Zeke was over last year.

Pieck had come over to go over some of the more popular songs that the band played.

Onstage and at rehearsal, Pieck could flirt with Zeke and both of them knew it was an act.

Besides, he deserved it.

He would get bored at the office when he had no patients and come bother Pieck at her photography studio. She felt no guilt about her little act since Zeke knew it was also an act.

In a break between songs, they had sat their instruments to the side.

“So, how many times has he texted you?” He teased her.

“Not answering that,” Pieck replied as she sat down on the couch.

“You know...he is friends with Eren…”

Pieck rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”

“Because he’s five years younger than me and it should have never happened.”

“Which time?” Zeke teased her before he sat down next to her on the couch.

“And you wonder why I don’t talk about these things with you,” she elbowed him.

“Ow! Look, you clearly like him which is why you always text him back. I do not see what the big deal is. There’s five years between us too, you know. You are still my best friend.”

“Too bad you’re not mine,” Pieck said as she stood up.

“You wound me, Pieck!” He clutched his chest in pain.

“Good, you deserve it,” Pieck said as she walked over to her bass, she turned her amp up. She picked it up and played a few notes.

“It’s the Galliard brothers, isn’t it? They are your best friends while I’m left all alone in the cold! Because they live with you and I do not!” He shouted over the music.

So they went back to Zeke teaching Pieck the songs. Afterwards, they had dinner at Zeke’s with Zeke ordering takeout. Pieck was sipping on wine.

“Alright, Spill the details,” Zeke said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

Pieck sighed, “where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning is always good,” Zeke smirked.

“Ugh. Fine…”

And Pieck launched into her story.

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

Zeke had a gig tonight and Pieck should have been there.

She wanted to be there.

But no.

Her mother insisted on her coming to this charity event. It was the same cancer that her father had recovered from so she understood the sentiment.

Porco was drunk off his ass, trying to chat up some random blonde. Pieck scoffed at him. He had a type as much as she did.

Reiner was waiting tables. His mother had done the catering here.

Pieck was absolutely bored out of her mind.

So she found Reiner alone.

"Lighter, cigarette, please," she smiled at him.

Reiner sighed before handing them over.

Pieck disappeared out onto the balcony.

The cold air hit her as she lit her cigarette. So she stood there smoking and swirling cheap champagne in its glass.

Then the door opened.

She turned to see a rather good looking man. He stared at her for a moment before he moved to the other side of her. He looked at her and then back down to the ground.

"Are you lost?" She asked him after a moment.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you?"

She took another drag as she cocked her head to the side. "Do you dye your hair?"

"What? No. Do you?"

She laughed.

"Why does everyone ask me that?"

"Because it's two toned."

“It’s just because my roots are darker than the rest of my hair! It’s always grown like that!”

Pieck was amused by his protests. “So what girl rejected you?” She asked, poking the bear once more.

“What?”

“I’m guessing you don’t smoke. You seem too straight edged for that. You’re clearly not drunk. So that leaves only a few possibilities. Plus judging from your overall body language and how easily you are to anger, you must have been rejected,” Pieck replied as she took another drag from her cigarette.

“I..I…” he shuttered.

“Point made. See you around,” she replied as she put her cigarette out in the ashtray before heading back inside.

It was several weeks before it was another charity event.

Pieck wasn’t even sure what this cause was, she hadn’t been paying attention as her mother had rambled on.

Zeke was here tonight but only for a few hours. Pieck clung to him as it kept her mother far away. Her father had told her mother many times so just let Pieck and Zeke be. However, her mother lived in a fantasy where Zeke and Pieck would one day get married.

“Take me with you,” she pleaded as Zeke got his coat from the coat check.

“I cannot help but think if I take you with me, your mother will be given false hope. I am only leaving because Eren has physical therapy early in the morning. Besides, were you not just saying moments ago how you wanted to hook up with someone? You cannot do that if you are sitting on my couch eating mint chocolate ice cream and crying over old movies while getting drunk on wine.”

“You know what? I changed my mind. Leave,” she said as she pushed Zeke towards the exit.

He laughed at her as he pulled his coat on. “Alright, bye Pieck. I will see you for lunch tomorrow,” he replied before he kissed her on the cheek.

Pieck kicked him directly in his ass as he walked out the door. “I’m not your child!”

“Then stop acting like it!” he shouted back.

What a strange relationship they had.

This charity gala was more boring than the last one.

She found herself sitting on the steps, awaiting valet to bring her her car. She saw the blonde stranger she had run into on the balcony at the prior party, walking up to valet and digging through the keys.

“You being valet...no wonder you got rejected,” she teased him.

“I’m not valet. I’m just not waiting for my car,” he replied.

“Let me guess, you drive some economically safe car. It probably plugs in and everything.”

“I really don’t like you. I shouldn’t be surprised. Any girlfriend of Zeke Jaeger’s is someone I’m going to steer clear of.”

“I’m not dating Zeke Jaeger.”

“Okay, I believe you,” he said as he finally grasped the keys he had been looking for.

“So what if I was? Are you jealous?”

The stranger laughed, “dream on. What could I possibly be jealous of?”

“He’s very good looking and doesn’t get rejected nearly as much as you do. By the way, the lipstick stain on your cheek is not your color.”

The valet drove up and Pieck got into her car.

The third time they met, Pieck had been the only one of her friends at the charity event.

Her mother and father weren’t even here. So here Pieck was, representing the whole Finger family on her own.

She had made sure to talk to all the important people as she made her rounds around the room. Until finally, she stepped out on the balcony with the cigarettes she had swiped from Zeke earlier in the day.

To her surprise, the balcony was already occupied. She watched as the blonde stranger made out with a blonde girl. Pieck lit up her cigarette. She wondered why she kept running into him.

“Don’t stop on my account. Nice to see you not get rejected for once,” she replied as she pushed passed them and to the other end of the wrap around balcony, far out of the view of the two lovers.

There was this tinge of jealousy that ate at Pieck. She equaled it to the fact she hadn’t had any sexual or romantic exploits in a while.

So she stood there and smoked.

But what she hadn’t been expecting was for her blonde stranger to come storming over there.

“Why do you have to do that?” he asked her as he swiped the cigarette from her hand.

She stared back at him in disbelief. “Do what?”

“Ruin my night. Every time,” he replied before he took a drag.

Pieck waited for the inevitable cough that came with most people trying to smoke when they hadn’t. It never came. Maybe she had judged him wrong.

“Already done with the blonde?” she asked.

“Turns out she��s not really my type.”

“So what is your type?”

“Do you care?”

“Not really but I’m bored.”

Jean sighed, “Someone who challenges me and I prefer dark hair.”

Pieck didn’t miss the fact that there seemed to be a bit of red darkening his cheeks.

“I prefer blondes,” she replied as she rested her arms on the balcony.

“That’s interesting,” he muttered.

Pieck felt a smile cross her face as she turned and looked at him. “I’m Pieck, by the way.”

“Jean,” he replied.

And they just stood there in the silence of the night.

Pieck would have been lying if she said that at the next charity event she hadn’t been looking for Jean.

Maybe she had put a little extra effort into her look for the night and maybe she had watched as the groups of people come and go.

And she would be lying if she said that when they did find one another, her heart didn’t speed up a little.

“You want to get out of here?” he asked in a low quiet voice.

She had nodded and the two of them ran past valet and into the parking garage. She had sent Porco a text telling him she had left and not to wait for her. He had replied with a winky face.

There was nothing economically smart about Jean’s car. It was expensive, fast, and a manual. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to drive this thing around in the summer with the convertible top down. Why was she thinking that? This was a one time thing.

And they were good until they hit the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, Pieck wasn’t sure who had made the move first. She just knew he was so ridiculously tall and his hands were tangled in her hair. How his lips made her feel she was high and couldn’t get enough of this.

Then the elevator dinged, telling them that they had arrived on their desired floor. They broke apart but Jean took Pieck’s hand, leading her towards his apartment.

“My roommate is gone for tonight,” he informed her as he unlocked the door. Once the door was locked behind them, the scene from the elevator repeated.

Pieck told herself the next day that it had been a one time thing.

It wasn’t repeating.

But with another charity event came another chance meeting,

So it repeated.

Then they exchanged numbers.

They started talking, almost like friends.

It was nothing more than sex, she reminded herself and him.

“Now I see why you never bring a guy back here. Your insides were clearly getting moved all around last night,” Porco had smirked at breakfast.

Pieck poured a box of cereal on his head. “You were supposed to be gone.”

“I forgot my charger. Also, you’re buying me more cereal.”

But Porco was right. Pieck had never brought someone back to the apartment.

The more Pieck and Jean talked, the more they realized the things they had in common. He was an artist, like her. Though it was not something he was pursuing, the talent was still there.

“You have paint on your face,” she told him as he sat next to her in the photography studio on the floor.

He wiped her face, only smearing the paint instead of cleaning it off. “Did I get it?” he asked.

“No, you made it worse,” she laughed at him.

He grabbed her face and rubbed his face against her face.

“Your beard is scratchy!” she shouted.

“Thought you liked my beard,” he smirked as he let go. “Especially when it’s against….”

She didn’t let him finish that sentence.

Her lips were on his, silencing him for once. She leaned back pulling him with her as her back hit the floor, never once losing contact as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

There was a clearing of a throat.

Pieck and Jean quickly separated as Zeke was seen leaning in the doorway, smirking.

And that's how it all began.

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

“So what you are saying is you met someone who can hold his own against you but you will not actually be in a relationship with him?” Zeke asked.

“He doesn’t want one either!” Pieck defended herself.

Zeke sighed, “you know this is not going to end well. For either of you.”

“It will be fine. We both know it’s nothing but sex.”

“Pieck, I know that look in your eyes. I have seen it before.”

“With who? I’ve never done relationships,” Pieck said before she took another drink of her wine. “Besides, you said that was fine as long as everyone involved understood it.”

“The problem is...I do not think you understand it.”

Pieck glared at him. “It’s nothing but sex.”

“And when this blows up in your face, I will be here to tell you I told you so.”

“And this is why I didn’t tell you all about this.”

“You did not have to. I walked in on it.”

"Where is Eren by the way?" Pieck asked as she swirled her wine around in her glass.

"At Levi's. Mikasa's father's birthday is Wednesday. He asked if he could stay until after that. I could not deny that request. He has finally stop being fucking stupid. Though now you are. So maybe it is contagious.."

"Hey!"

"I hope Niccolo does not catch it. That will be another mess…."

"I'm going to have another glass of wine and take over your bed if you do not stop."

"I have a whole third story to this house and you have to always kick me out of my bed."

"That I do. Besides, no one goes up there.".

Zeke sighed.

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

When Historia and Sasha returned from work, they both loved the new cars that sat in the driveway.

“Oh! You can finally drive me everywhere!” Historia exclaimed with a smile as she held on Ymir’s arm.

“You’re not mad?” Ymir asked her.

“Why would I be mad? I miss my car, yes but I took the limo everywhere I could. I hate having to always drive.”

Ymir sighed, “you’re spoiled.”

“And that’s why you love me! Now take me for a drive in this thing!”

So Ymir, Sasha, and Historia went out in Ymir’s new car.

That left Eren and Mikasa alone with Levi, Annie, and the dogs at the house.

Mikasa watched as Eren flipped through her old lyrics journal.

"There's a lot of good lyrics in here," he smiled at her.

"Thanks," she replied before looking down.

Eren reading those lyrics were like him reading into her soul. She'd never let him have the whole lyric journal to look through. Some songs were half started and never finished.

An unfinished song….

"Watch the flash drive with me," she said.

Eren's eyes met hers. He swallowed. He opened his mouth before quickly shutting it.

"What….what if you hate me afterwards?"

The question caught Mikasa so off guard. She didn't know how to even begin to respond to that.

"Or worse, what if you hate what I did to the song?"

"I won't," she reassured him before reaching across the bed. She took one of his hands off of the old lyric journal that he was holding and held it.

He squeezed her hand.

He was terrified.

Mikasa had seen Eren afraid before but not like this. Not to the point where he looked like he wanted to run.

"You said I should listen to it. I know you said when you weren't around but you're reading my lyrics. My feelings for you all the way back then. Shouldn't I be able to see how you thought of me?" She asked.

Eren nodded. "You're right."

"And it's probably better to do it right now while it's only us, Levi, Annie, and the dogs here."

Eren nodded again.

"So I'll go ask Levi for it."

Mikasa left.

Eren's nerves are slowly taking him over. It's not like there is anything bad in the song. He wasn't even sure why he sent it. He didn't even know that she was here.

He had ordered the delivery person to make sure to only let Mikasa sign for the package. If she didn't, Eren wanted it back in his possession.

And he hadn't expected her to be there at all.

But she had been.

The song had been a last ditch effort by Eren.

For what?

He wasn't sure.

He heard footsteps retreating down the hall.

A few moments later, Mikasa returned with both the flash drive and letter in hand.

"Give me that," he said as he held his hand. Mikasa handed him the letter.

"Dear Mikasa,

I hope this find you well. The last year has been absolute hell. My drinking finally caught up with me like you always said it would. They took a large portion of my liver. I found out that I'm actually bipolar too. Who knew? I don't even know what this is. I broke your heart a year ago.

I broke everything.

Including myself.

With hope of avoiding hurting you like my dad did my mom, I lost everything.

This isn't a plea for you to come back. It's not even a plea to forgive.

I guess I just want you to understand.

I hope you find someone who treats you right and deserves you. I wish you nothing but happiness. You really do deserve it.

The flash drive in the box included is a song you played for me long ago. I used my band and the video recording I had of you to make it. I made it in garage band so it's nothing fancy.

Love always,

Eren ," Eren read out loud before he held the letter out to Mikasa.

Mikasa pulled her laptop off the desk and onto the bed. She opened the box to see a black flash drive inside. She pulled it out of the box and inserted into the usb port on the side.

The window popped up on the screen.

She clicked on the file.

It was a video.

“I thought you said you used garage band to make it,” she said as she looked over at him.

“Yeah, to make the audio. The video is just at the beginning,” he said before he looked down.

“Okay,” she replied before pressing play.

The video began.

#mmtylif #my writing

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