#low key how it was when i sat in the studio with my brother watching him mix

[extremelyblackandwhite]

a year in the life | rockstar! s.s.

pairing: rockstar!sebastian stan x writer!reader

main work: i wanna know what love is

season: autumn 🍁

a/n: in celebration of 4 major works of mine turning one this year (my babies, cannot believe it’s been a year) and based on the reboot of gilmore girls, i will be revisiting my works per season. we are starting with autumn and rockstar!seb. hope you enjoy xx

Y/N laid on the big chez lounge couch in the middle of her living room, surrounded by her children’s toys, with a large bowl of Doritos on her lap as the Real Housewives played on the background. For the very first time since forever, she was alone at home; Jess and Marion were at their respective schools while Sebastian was busy in the studio, doing some rearrangements to a new album. She loved the three of them more than anything but she knew that she would’ve never had the chance to eat Doritos without Sebastian complaining it was unhealthy for her or her children trying to take a bite. Lately, all she wants is to lay low, bask in her leave from work and watch some trashy TV. 

As her eyes were getting heavier and heavier with sleep when the front door opened, sending her back into alert mood. Luckily, it wasn’t no one trying to break in but her husband who still couldn’t open doors without making a big ruckus about it. 

     - I’m sorry, bunny. -  he stepped back as he recognised his wife’s sleepy face. - I thought you’d be in the bedroom. 

     - Can’t move. - she pointed at her bulging bump covered by one of his old jumpers which seemed to be the only thing that fully covered her at this particular stage. Sebastian chuckled, walking over to her to quickly kiss her, hand caressing her bump through the jumper. - Didn’t expect you to be home so early.

      - I can see. - he pointed at the bowl of Doritos on her lap. - You’re supposed to be the prudent one. 

    - I’m carrying your offspring. It makes me make bad decisions. - she teased, cuddling against him as he sat by her side, worn out slightly loose black leather jacket still on. - How are the boys?

    - Fighting about who gets to be godfather this time.

    - Did you tell them my brother is gonna be the godfather?

    - Now, where would the fun be in that, bunny? - he smirked, with that boyish like looks he still managed to remain after all these years. 

    - Stop it. - she leaned towards him to kiss him. 

    - How are you feeling today? - his hand mindlessly rubbed her bump, feeling the little moves of the baby whenever the baby moved. - Little one is a bit feisty today.

    - It’s been like this all of last night. I think I might be closer to labour than we think.

    - Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve driven the kids to school, honey love. 

    - You needed to sleep. - she groaned as she stretched her legs. - Besides, Marion is staying with your mum today so I wanted to spend some time with her before she went. 

    - No kids tonight? - he leaned over to kiss her collarbone. - How long has it been?

    - As long as I’ve been pregnant. - she pushed him away playfully. - Jess is not going. 

    - Why not? Jess loves my mum. Is he sick? Urgh, is the flu going around his class again? We need to put him into a better school, those kids at his school are always s...

    - Seb, stop. - she rolled her eyes, smiling at the same time at how he’d gone from let it be to constant rambling about his children’s wellbeing. - He just wants to be home tonight and he’s been a little sad lately. 

    - You’re sure he’s not sick? Because there’s this private school which tests kids for all those flu things.

    - He’s not sick. He’s just got ... a bit of a lovebug. He got like this when I was last pregnant with Marion. 

    - Well, at least he hasn’t decided that the baby is just not coming. - Sebastian referred to Marion. Their daughter had just decided there was no baby coming around, even after being offered her own bedroom with her own bathroom, just for herself. - I’ll go pick him up, make it a whole thing. Maybe even pass by Al’s ... get you that pasta you really like. 

    - You’re just trying to make me forget that you’re the reason we’re moving houses. 

   - Y/N, this house has always been too small.

   - That’s because you need a whole room for your guitars alone. 

She’d spend the best part of her initial married years trying to convince Sebastian to either get a storage unit to put all his guitars in or to just merge it with his office yet, he’d always come back with an excuse. ��Honey love, they need to be displayed”, “Bunny I would just get distracted if they were in my office” he would tell her with his rockstar like charm which she thought was strong enough to resist, yet how can she say no when he immediately shifts from boyish smile to having her pressed against the wall of that very same room, pounding into her as if he was an up and coming rockstar and her his favourite groupie. With the need for that bedroom, their once spacious apartment they bought when she was pregnant with Jess was becoming too small. Normally Y/N would be okay with it but being 8 months pregnant during the fall where it constantly rains in New York, moving seemed like the last thing she’d like to do and just thinking about it made her tired already. After all, she could barely walk to the kitchen without feeling tired or taking a short break in the middle of the path. She thought that after two pregnancies, the third one would be a walk in the park. Turns out it’s more like a run in the park, except the park is on fire and she’s barefoot. 

   - Honey love, asking me to get rid of my guitars is like asking you to get rid of your five copies of Emma.

   - They’re in different languages. - she argued back.

   - They’re different models, besides, we can finally have a guest bedroom. You always wanted a guest bedroom.

   - Sure then maybe my grandfather will come visit more often. How about that? - Sebastian chuckled at her answer. - I’m not joking. You get me pregnant, you get to be annoyed by my grandfather. 

   - You’re acting like this is my fault when you were the one who wore fishnets with a leather skirt. I’m only human. 

   - Fine, 10% my fault, 90% you fault. That’s my final offer.

   - You sure? 

   - Yes. You see, you are a sex maniac who cannot be controlled. 

   - That’s not what you wrote about me. - he smirked. - You said I had more soul than just a sex pot. 

   - Do not quote my own words at me.

   -  You bought my old guitar.

   - Urgh ... - she rolled her eyes. Sebastian grinned, happy he’d won the debate. - Just go make the other mums jealous please.

   - Look at you, using me for my sex appeal only.

   - No. I just really enjoy being the powerful mum. 

   - Yeah? What’s that like?

   - Constant questions about if we do weird sex blood rituals. Then mysterious answers, so they all fear you and don’t force you to attend PTA meetings on date nights. 

   - I gotta say, bunny ... we got this parenting thing covered. 

   - We do.

   - When I come back, you better not have a bowl of Doritos on your belly.

   - I’ll do whatever I want.

   - Sure, bunny, if you walk to the kitchen by yourself ...

   - Low move, Stan. Low.

   - You love me. - he chuckled, grabbing his keys from the trinket dish by the entry door. - See you soon, bunny.

   - Love you. - she scrunched her face in a little smile which he couldn’t help but smile back.

Sebastian liked to pick up Marion and Jess from school. His schedule normally meant Y/N, who had a more 9-5 job, was the one who’d do the drop offs and collections so he’d always meet them at home but whenever he could pick them up, he’d be the first one there. He just loved to see his two babies come out of school in their little uniforms which he incredibly hated when they first enrolled but now couldn’t help but find incredibly adorable. He also loved to see how both his children came out of school. Marion would be the one who’d take the longest, surrounded by all her friends and probably nursing a scrape or two on her knee as if kindergarten 2-3 year old was a big fighting ground while Jess would come out as quickly as he could. 

He parked slightly in front of his son’s school, coming out of the car and leaning against it. The parents’ eyes were immediately on him, maybe it was due to the star power or, most likely, it was because he was wearing a leather jacket, dark shades and his neck tattoo could be seen peaking out the collar of his jacket. His shoes crinkled the fallen leaves on the floor, avoiding those looks as he waited for his son. He knew who he was and he was not going to change it because he became a father, he is a good father, he knows that. The bell rang and a swarm of children came rushing out of the school, and they say birth rates are low. He took his sunglasses off, trying to pin point his son in the middle of all different aged children. 

   -  DAD! - he turned his head to the memorable voice, crutching down as he son rushed to him. Jess wrapped his arms around his father, little childish giggles as Sebastian pulled him off the floor.

   - Hey, buddy. How was school?

   - We did hand turkeys.

   - Hand turkeys? No way, that’s so cool. - he opened up the car’s passenger’s seat, sticking around to check if he fastened his seatbelt correctly before taking the driver’s seat. - It’s just gonna be us three today, bud. You, me and mummy. We getting Al’s and some ice cream. 

   - Why didn’t mummy come?

   - Mummy is very tired, buddy. The baby is kicking a lot, won’t let the baby sleep.

   - Oh ...  - Sebastian saw his son’s face grow sadder.

   - What do you want from Al’s, bud? You can get whatever you want.

   - Really?

   - Yeah.

The little restaurant had soon become a staple in their family life. Sebastian had. discovered by accident after accidentally burning dinner for Y/N’s. He wasn’t already too popular with Y/N’s family so he knew he had to fix it and there it was, the small little restaurant filled with delicious food. Now, it was just a Friday night tradition yet today was special, almost nostalgic to when Y/N, Sebastian and Jess had their first home. Back when Y/N and him were new parents and would trip on every toy in the apartment. God, those were the days. 

  - Dad? - Jess pulled at his sleeve while the two were waiting in the queue. 

  - Yeah, bud? - Sebastian picked him up, already understanding the signs of whenever he wanted to be held. 

  - I ... The baby’s not coming for a while, right? 

  - Why, Jessie? What did Marion say?

  - She didn’t say anything ... uhm, it’s gonna be three of us now. 

  - Yeah. We’re gonna get a new big place, we can even get a dog or a cat. You always wanted a cat, didn’t you? 

  - But, now I’m third.

  - What do you mean? - Sebastian furrowed his brows at the comment.

  - Well, when Marion was a baby you and mummy were always with her but she’s still a baby and now there’s a new baby, so I’m gonna be third. - Sebastian’s heart broke at that comment. Now it made sense. - And ... you’re not home a lot and mummy is gonna be busy with the baby.

  - Hey, you’re not third. - he rubbed his son’s back, kissing the side of his head, soothing him to the best of his ability. - You want me to be home more?

  - No, daddy ... you like doing music. 

  - Hm ... how about you come to the studio with me when you don’t have school?

  - Really? But you said I’m too little. 

  - Well, you’re gonna be a big brother again, I think it’s time.

  - Really?

  - Yeah. - he smiled him, his smile reflecting back at him. 

  - Faye. 

  - What?

  - We should name the baby Faye. 

  - Faye? You want your baby sister to be named Faye?

  - Yes.

  - Well ... Faye it is.

[astranva]

harry’s child being jealous about the new baby getting all the attention and he has to reassure her that he loves them both the same 😔💔

Title: Pinky Promise

Word Count: 2.7k

Category: Slight angst, Fluff dad!Harry

Warnings: A couple of F words.

I loved writing that omg my heart😪❤

You remember 4 years ago, in September of 2016 when you told Harry you were pregnant. Well, technically, you shouted it out.

Both of you being fans of Adele, you had decided to attend her show in Madison Square Garden.

Harry was already working on his debut album and knew he needed a break, especially when he was a nervous wreck.

You remember it all starting with your lack of appetite then suddenly feeling like eating everything and anything edible. You blamed it on hormones, until morning sickness happened. If there was one thing you absolutely loathed, it was nausea. You remember waking up to churn and throw up, your throat only hurting and your muscles aching due to the fact that your body had already digested the food you had eaten the night before and you hadn’t had anything to eat yet that morning, but your body still felt the need to make you run to stick your head inside the toilet bowl.

The first 3 days it happened, you were alone, with Harry being in the studio after leaving you notes that told you about his whereabouts and that he loved you and couldn’t wait to see you.

Not wanting to trouble his inspiration and progress, you only told him that you had an upset stomach every time he questioned why you looked sick.

You remember one day, after Harry was out with Jeff, that you called your best friend and had them bring you a pregnancy test, choosing to avoid any tabloid-talk.

Your heart was thumping, palms sweaty, nausea already kicking in as you waited after following the instructions.

And then it happened; a cry of surprise, eyes growing tearful as one hand was clasped on your mouth while the other held the test tightly – pregnant.

You knew that Harry loved a lot of people, a lot of things, a lot of abstract ideas, like love. You knew he loved kids, and he had often talked to you about them, telling you that he saw you and him starting a family.

It was why after you knew and had checked up at the obstetrician’s and knew that you were 3 weeks pregnant, you were giddy and excited to let Harry know but had decided to do it in a different setting.

Four days after your OB visit, you and Harry were in Madison Square Garden, singing along with Adele.

You were standing in front of Harry, back against his front, his arms wrapped around your waist, your hand holding on to his arms, his chin on your shoulder as you both swayed with Sweetest Devotion.

It was when you moved just a little to the side, still in his arms, to look at him, Harry looked down at you, singing to you.

“I'm heading straight for you. You will only be eternally, the one that I belong to.”

He gently nudged your forehead with his, pecking your lips. He pulled back slowly, smiling down at you.

And then you said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows shot up, leaning closer, “Can’t hear you!”

You grinned, turning in his arms to cup his cheeks softly, “I’m pregnant! 3 weeks pregnant!”

His world had stopped, eyes going wide as his mouth formed an O, “Y/N, are you joking?!” He had asked with a laugh of surprise, his lips stretching into a grin as he asked, “Baby, are you for real?”

You nodded as you laughed in glee, moving one hand from his cheek and to your stomach, “You’re going to be a daddy!”

And that was what it took for Harry to break down and cry, tipping his head back as he bit on his lip, nose red and veins showing on his forehead as he cried before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, crying into your shoulder.

Tears were flowing from your eyes as you held him, feeling him pull back to rest his forehead on yours, his hands moving to either sides of your neck, “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” He pulled you back in a hug, one hand moving to the back of your head while the other was on your back, bringing you closer to him.

The 9 months of pregnancy were smooth, as well as emotional. Especially since it was in the 2nd month that Harry went down on one knee, somewhen in the morning when you were both preparing breakfast. You turned around to grab the toast, only to see him on one knee, with a blue velvet box in his hand opened to show you the thin, golden ring with a small diamond in the middle that you knew Harry picked carefully with the thought of how you moved minimalist jewelry in his mind.

“I had a speech and – I don’t remember anything from it other than the fact that I have so many songs about you, and some more, and that I am head over heels in love with you. And that you’re carrying a soul inside you that is made from you and I. I just – fuck, Y/N, I can’t imagine a life you’re not in it and just – marry me?”

His eyes were already glossy, lips pink and dimple there for your eyes to see as he pursed his lips before taking a deep breath.

You had let out a cry, hands on where your heart rested, nodding as you cried, “Yes! Yes, oh my- God, yes, please!” And he didn’t get the chance to stand before you threw yourself at him on the floor, hugging him tightly against you.

You also remember the celebration being very low-key, with only close friends and family there at your house. Gemma, as your maid of honor, had taken charge of the decorations, making the backyard of yours and Harry’s shared house well-lit with all the globe bulbs adorning the trees and walls. The moment Harry saw you in your simple white wedding dress, was one that would forever be engraved in everybody who was present’s mind. He had squatted down, hands covering his face in disbelief before they covered his open mouth as he took you in; laughing bashfully as you, too, took him in.

He was in a white suit, pink embroidered flowers on the side of his pants that resembled the headpiece you wore.

Polaroids were taken, all pictures were taken on film, making everything about the night more magical and sentimental, especially with the 6-month bump you walked and danced around with.

The 9 months of your pregnancy were painful, but not too much for you to feel anything but love for how supportive and helpful Harry was, and admiration for your daughter – Eileen Mae Styles.

Since the moment Eileen came into the world, you knew that she had Harry wrapped around her tiny little finger.

Your daughter was attached to both of you, but you were proud of the character and personality she had at such a young age.

When Eileen turned 3, you and Harry took pride in how you could have a conversation with your daughter, even when it was about how pretty Harry’s butterfly tattoo would look if it was colored. Yes, she ended up coloring it, and Harry loved every moment of having his daughter lying on top of him, coloring his tattoo as he lounged on the sofa while she talked to him about how she likes strawberry chapstick.

It was one day when you felt the familiar feelings of nausea and change of appetite, the reminder of the late period only making one question come into your mind.

That time, you mentioned it to your husband as you ate lunch, who had chocked on his food.

Long story short, you were pregnant – again.

“Mummy,” Eileen called you as you, your husband and your daughter sat in your backyard, letting Isla [Eye-la] get her vitamin D.

Harry was reading a book beside you as you both sat on your swing, Eileen playing and running around with her toys, while you wrote in your journal.

“Yeah, bub?”

She ran towards you, putting both hands on your knees as she grinned up at you before looking down at your 8-month pregnant bump, “What’s in here?”

Harry chuckled, putting down his book to watch the conversation more carefully.

“Your baby brother is in here.” You smiled at her.

“But how? Can I sit there, too?”

You and Harry giggled at her question. “You once sat there, Isla. But then you came into the world, 3 years ago.”

Eileen frowned, looking up at you. “I want to go back again.”

You looked at Harry, silently asking him to help you.

He leaned forward, wrapping his hands under his daughter’s armpits before carrying her to make her sit on his lap. “But then your brother won’t have enough space.”

“I don’t care.” She whined, the frown still on her face.

“Your brother needs all the space so he can grow to meet you, and play with you, don’t you want that?” He asked her softly.

“He-he will take my toys.”

“You can share all the toys with him, bub. He’ll share his toys with you, too.” You cooed, almost scared that your daughter wouldn’t like her brother. Something neither you nor Harry had prepared for.

“But-but you and daddy will get more toys for him. I don’t want him.” She said with a whine, crossing her arms against her chest as she looked down, lips starting to quiver.

You and Harry shared a look, before moving back to your 3-year-old.

“Eileen,” Harry called her name gently, watching as she didn’t look up at him, “Honey, look at me, please.” Slowly, Eileen looked up at Harry, letting the both of you see her tearful eyes. “You know mummy and daddy love you and we always will, right?”

“We do love you so much, bub, and nothing will change that,” You assured her, putting one hand on her knee, “Your brother is also very excited to meet you. He loves you, too.”

“Weren’t you excited the other day to show him your room?” Harry asked, rubbing her back gently.

“Yeah.” She mumbled.

“You have a lot to show him and teach him. You can be his first best friend, isn’t that nice?”

As if she was absorbing what you said, Eileen nodded slowly.

“We love you, Isla. Forever.” Harry said, leaning to press a kiss against her temple.

Turning to look at her dad, Eileen uncrossed her arms to raise up her two pinkies, one reaching out to you, the other for Harry, “Promise?”

It felt as though your heart melted right there and then as you latched your pinky with hers, watching Harry do the same.

“Promise.”

But nobody told you about the hell you’d go through when your daughter was jealous of her new bother, Elio.

The moment Eileen entered the hospital room, holding hands with Gemma, and looking at you as you lied on the hospital bed with Elio right at your side, eyes open as he moved his limbs around, making baby noises, you knew that she wasn’t very welcoming.

Harry was sat on the other side of his son, hand playing with your hair as to comfort you after the pain you went through, and as a simple nonverbal way to thank you. His lips were fixed on the smile his face wore, heart soaring with happiness at the new family addition and the fact that both, his wife and son were healthy.

Eileen looked at her parents, too short to see her brother who was in the middle but hearing him. She was overwhelmed, knowing that she was going to meet her brother.

“Hey, honey!” Harry grinned at her, leaning down a little and opening his arms, hugging her tightly as she ran into them before he pressed a kiss against her cheek, carrying her to place her on his hip, watching as her eyes instantly moved to the newborn baby.

“Meet Elio, bub.” You said tiredly but with a smile on your face, watching your daughter and hoping she would take the new change lightly.

Well, you hoped.

But Eileen had broken into fits of crying, straight out wailing as she threw herself on Harry, leaning her head on his shoulder.

The close family and friends in the room all pouted and cooed, watching the scene.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked urgently, rubbing his daughter’s back.

“I don’t love him.” Eileen dragged as she cried, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck.

Your heart broke, the small smile falling as you looked at Harry in worry.

As if his sister’s cries triggered him, your smallest, Elio, began crying. You sat up, taking him gently in your arms and placing him against your chest, softly hushing him and supporting the back of his head as you looked at Harry, almost pleading him to do anything.

Understanding, Harry stood with Eileen latched onto him, holding her as he walked out of the room and walking down the hall, softly and gently bouncing his daughter to calm her.

“Come on, Isla, please calm down.” He cooed, adding a sigh at the situation he and his wife were in. “Why don’t you love Elio?”

Eileen sniffled, pulling back but keeping her head down, one hand moving to poke at Harry’s pearl necklace – which you and Eileen made him – as she replied, “Nobody will love me anymore.”

Harry sat down on a chair, still holding his daughter just the same. “What makes you say that?”

“Because-because-because he is little, and he needs more attention and I will have no more.”

Harry took a deep breath, letting her words sink it. While it was true that his youngest needed necessary and a lot of attention, he didn’t know how to explain to his oldest that that wasn’t how it goes.

“When you were just a little baby,” He began, looking down at her, “Mummy and Daddy were all over the place. You cried when we were asleep, threw up on us a lot,” Harry chuckled to himself, remembering these moments and taking notice of how it all felt like it was only the day before, “You wanted Mummy and Daddy with you all the time. And we never left you,” He concluded, “So what makes you think that will leave you now, Honey?”

Eileen didn’t reply.

“Your brother still can’t talk. He can’t say when he’s hurt like you do, he doesn’t even know how your favorite blueberry pancakes taste like. And we need to make sure that he does all that, exactly like you. But here’s the thing,” As though he was telling her a secret, Harry leaned to whisper in her ear, “Mummy and Daddy can’t do alone. We can’t do it without you.”

Eileen slowly looked up at Harry, face losing its frown.

“We promised, Isla. We promised to love you forever. Have we ever broken a promise?” He asked, watching her shake her head, “And we won’t. So what do you say? Can you, please, give your brother the chance he needs? He’s actually quite funny.” Harry smiled at her.

“Funnier than you?” She asked.

Harry laughed, “Way funnier! You just have to keep a close eye.”

Eileen giggled quietly.

“Mummy is really excited for you to meet Elio, you know? Was telling me all about the numbers you can teach him, all the photos we’re going to take of the both of you. What he’ll get you for Christmas.”

“Can he get me a book about stars? With pictures?” She asked excitedly.

Harry grinned, peppering her face with kisses and hearing her giggle, fully knowing that it was one of his most favorite sounds, “You tell him.”

Once he stopped, Eileen let out a sigh, her shoulder slumping. “Fine, Daddy. I will try.”

“Thank you.” He smiled gratefully, “How about we go back?”

The moment a knock sounded on the door before you saw your husband with your daughter in his arms, you didn’t know what to expect.

Looking shy and bashful, Eileen clung onto Harry as he returned to his spot after sharing a look with Anne, as if telling her that he would tell her later.

Elio was back in his spot as well, going back to his noises.

Eileen looked down at him once again, finally taking notice of how tiny his hands were and feeling curious. Reluctantly, she leaned down a little, intending to poke his hand softly.

But the moment she touched his hand, was the moment Elio wrapped his hand around her finger, making her grin. “He’s holding my finger!” She squealed as she giggled, “You’re right, Daddy. He is funny.”

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harrystyles: Conversations. 

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [2.3]

Masterlist

A/N: Still waiting for PR’s new content like a dog waiting for its dinner XD. Anyway, thanks again so much for your patience. I super appreciate everyone taking the time to read my stories. Likes are super great to have, but just a reminder that reblogs and comments are awesome, too! It’s always great to hear feedback from you guys, and if you enjoy my content, please share it so others can enjoy it too! REBLOG TO SAVE A FANFIC LIFE!

Warnings: none, but this chapter is gonna’ suck majorly with what sounds like a pretty dumb plot point. Promise it will be important later on, tho. 

Water splattered across the tile, its cool surface sending a chill up Remington’s spine as he stepped out of the shower. Instead of wrapping the towel around himself, he used it to wipe the cloud off the top half of the mirror, fully revealing his cyan-blonde sopping hair. Despite the bright hue, he looked exhausted beyond anything.

A four hour car trip with your siblings and friends sounds fun in retrospect, but when your older brother is confident in his directions as he’s getting lost, and your younger brother is snoring louder than a chainsaw, not to mention they all had to get up at five this morning to beat the traffic, Remington couldn’t hardly blame himself for appearing so disheveled. 

Despite his fatigue, the view that lay beyond the confines of the boys’ summer beach home was well worth it. It was hot, a typically sweltering August summer, but the breeze coming off the water made it tolerable. The waves fell gently over the sand, the calls of gulls echoed blissfully, and the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen was enticing beyond anything.

After drying himself off and slipping into his shorts, Remington ventured out into the living room -- now converted into a mini studio with instruments and sound equipment scattered across the floor. Their friend Chris was sat on a stool, a half-empty water bottle beside him and headphones hanging around his neck as he plucked out some experimental chords. Meanwhile, Emerson was still putting his drum set together in the corner.

Sebastian on the other hand was stood out on the terrace, filming the crystalline view to probably post or send to Larissa. Remington would probably do the same at some point -- if not just to make Eva just a little jealous for the fun of it. The clock on the wall read 10:40, she was likely working away at her desk like she always was, sipping a mug of tea or coffee while Pluto was sprawled out on the table for a nap. 

She was up with him at five, helping him fold and pack the rest of what was left. She had offered to put some coffee on for them, but Remington could see in her eyes how tired she was, not used to getting up so early. He told her not to worry, that he would pick one up on the road so she could go back to sleep. Eva smiled, trying to hide her sadness at his absence. Eva and Shy both watched from the stoop as the boys packed their things into the van Sebastian was driving, wishing them the best with a hug and kiss before watching them take off. 

Pouring himself a coffee, Remington went to go sit at the small table perched on the terrace, all the while smiling to himself. He would definitely bring Eva here at some point -- without his brothers to tag along, though. He could picture her sitting across from him, either with or without her notebook, with the soft breeze tousling her hair and her eyes matching the azure ocean. 

Remington glanced at his older brother, watching with intrigue as Sebastian took snap after snap. Just below the terrace were a small pack of seagulls scouring the grounds for food scraps. He simpered to himself.

“You remember that video of the seagull stealing a guy’s car keys?” he asked.

Sebastian didn’t turn to him, but he nodded, “Yeah,”

“Low key, I’m kinda’ hoping that a seagull dive bombs and snatches your phone,” Remington grinned. 

The older brother rolled his eyes and glanced down at the cyan-blue-boy, clearly unamused, “If that’s the case, then you can pay for a new phone,”

“Why me?”

“Because you reap what you fucking sow,” 

“You got no proof of purchase,” 

Approximately four hours away by car, Eva and Shy sat opposite to each other at the kitchen table, one working on her writing assignments, the other shopping around for textbooks for her upcoming semester. Pluto and Pepper were curled up together on the floor, snoring soundly in time the thrumming of the air conditioner on full blast. It was much warmer than usual, and Eva still wasn’t so acclimatized to Californian summers in August.

Shy glanced up from her computer, noting the way Eva shook subtly as she typed. Her leg was bouncing under the table, the heel of her sandal clapping against the tile to match the white noise.

“You doing okay?” she asked.

Eva looked up from her website, nodding simply, “Yeah,”

“You just seem to be a little anxious,” Shy pointed out.

It was then Eva noticed that her knee was bouncing. She stopped and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry. Guess I’m not used to the silence,” 

“It’s okay,” Shy smiled, “It becomes a nice change, after a while,”

Taking another sip of her water, Eva pushed her laptop away and pulled her hair back to tie, “I think I need to talk to my landlord about installing AC,” she sighed.

”You don’t have AC?” Shy asked, somewhat incredulous.

Eva shook her head, “Old building, cheap rent,” she replied.

“Dude’s clearly not with the times if he doesn’t have AC in California,” Shy said, “You miss Seattle summers?”

“Not as much as I thought I would,” Eva replied, “I mean -- the only way we ever cooled off was running through the sprinkler, or spending the day at Pike Place. But you know, you get older and the market gets more and more crowded,” 

“I can bet money the beach is probably packed right about now,” Shy said, glancing at her screen again, “Ooh, we got about fifteen before Larissa comes,” 

Eva slumped back in her chair, suddenly not looking forward to going out, “It’s too hot for manicures. Let’s go tomorrow,” she whined. 

Shy simpered, “Doesn’t really work that way, but you won’t regret it. Carla does the best nail art this side of LA. And it helps she’s friend with Larissa so we all get a discount,” 

“It’s really down to who you know,” Eva grinned. 

Shy then stood up, did a small stretch, and ventured into the kitchen, “I’m gonna’ grab a lemonade, you want one?”

“Oh, yes please!” Eva then pulled her own laptop back within reach, opening her tabs and scrolling through her open websites. Shy returned about a minute later, though as she put Eva’s glass down she couldn’t help but glance at the screen, and noticed that she wasn’t writing at all, but reading an article titled “10 Self-Publishing Tips & Tricks”.

“Whatcha’ looking at?” she asked. 

Eva smiled sheepishly, tilting her screen down, “It’s nothing important,”

Shy’s eyes went wide, pushing the screen up again to have another look, “Nothing important? Eva, you’re looking at a publishing website! That’s super important!”

“Well, I’m not hitting the best-sellers shelf next week, I’m just doing a little research,” she replied, tilting her screen again.

Shy pulled out the chair next to her to take a seat, opening the screen yet again. Eva gave up at this point, “Are you gonna’ publish your stuff?”

The short-haired brunette shrugged, “I have no clue. Remington’s brought it up a few times, and I bought Billy Collins’ Master Class. I don’t know, though. I’d be essentially opening my own business and it’s... a lot,” 

“Eva, you already post your stuff to social media, your branded platform. That is a business,” Shy said, “How much traction do you have?”

“About two-hundred-thousand,” 

“There’s your audience. Do enough marketing and you could sell two-hundred-thousand books,” 

Eva chuckled, “The book’s not even written yet, Shy,” 

“Okay, fine. But you’re a good enough writer that I think instead of going back and forth between should I or shouldn’t I, you should just do it,” she said, “No one ever regrets leaping off the ledge,”

Eva’s smile faltered as she thought about what Shy had just said, cocking her head, “Did you just say --”

“Yeah, I know what I said,” Shy nodded, her own excitement dwindling, “But you know what I meant,”

Even as she sat in the nail salon, situated between her friends and partaking in some conversation beneath their masks, Eva had the notion flittering at the forefront of her brain. From what she read, it was relatively easy to publish a poetry book:

1. Write a lot of poems ✓

2. Choose the theme of your book

3. Put the poems that fit your theme into your book

Okay, so there was a bit more legwork than just those three steps. However, Eva was holding back simply because she didn’t know what she wanted to release. She wasn’t sure if she could organize and compile her story in such a way, all of her public posts were so scattered that it would be near-impossible to piece her together. She would be vulnerable, even more than she was now having a spotlight on her. 

And then there was the notion of public perception. What would her fans think if she published? They’d probably love it, but would they shell out the money to buy? And what about the band’s fan base? There were plenty of people (mostly the s/o’s of famous people) being dragged for putting their own media out to the public. She was already being dragged just for being herself, and Eva wasn’t used to being as exposed as she was. 

“.. eva ... eva ... Eva?” Eva snapped out of her own thoughts, turning to Larissa in the next chair. Larissa giggled to herself, “Where’d you go, honey?”

“Sorry,” Eva blushed, despite her face being covered by the mask, “What were we talking about?”

“My birthday weekend,” Larissa replied matter-of-factly, “You’re still down to come to Cabo with us, right?”

“Sure,” Eva nodded quickly, “... Is that... is it safe to travel, though?”

“As long as we follow all the mandates, we’ll be just fine,” Shy said, “And I’m packing some Lysol spray for the rooms, just to be safe,”

“Oh, where did you find that?” Larissa asked, “We’ve been having a hell of a time trying to get Lysol anything,”

“Sorry, but it’s just a canister I had already,” Shy replied.

“Lysol’s one rung down from toilet paper on the global shortage list,” Eva said.

“Well, I was reading the other day that Costco’s not going to be doing any returns or exchanges for cleaning products,” Larissa said, ‘To combat all the hoarding,”

“Not to mention the under-the-table buyers and sellers,” Eva said, “I mean -- people are treating sanitizer like a human organ on the black market,” 

“Separating desperate consumers from their cash -- even in a global crisis,” Shy huffed, “But honestly, is there anything that this country celebrates more?”

Larissa shrugged in thought, “... Dumb action movies,”

As the day passed into the evening, the temperature came down somewhat considerably, though Eva continued to have the fan blasting in her apartment and her balcony screen drawn to let in the cool air. She sat at her desk, scrolling through another article that was to be sent off in the morning, she was just in the editing stage now. 

A couple tabs over, Eva’s eyes flitted to the article she still had open detailing poets deal with the open market. One tab over was another piece Eva was working on, a very rough draft of another soppy love poem. She swivelled around in her chair to spot her couch, seeing Pluto’s tail hang over the arm rest. It was the side of the couch where Remington would usually sit, and the spot where Pluto would plant himself in his lap for the night. 

She didn’t want to think about him too much because that would only open the floodgates for a distant yearning. Eva always threw herself in her work to avoid stifling emotions, but tonight she couldn’t bring herself to shut out Remington’s missed presence. After all, looking around her tiny apartment she could place him anywhere and everywhere. 

She hoped he was having fun, but she also wished that she didn’t have to be without him. It amused her how in a short span of six months she had become so attached to Remington. 

Eva simpered quietly, “Yeah, I miss him too, buddy,” she whispered to the cat. No doubt he was asleep, already.

As she went to stretch, there was a ruffling noise emanating from her door. More, it was from below the door frame. When Eva swivelled back around, she was surprised to see and envelope had been shoved under her door. Intrigued, she went to retrieve it, not bothering to sit again before she began to rip it open. It wasn’t marked with any addresses or names, but the front only read NEIGHBOUR in bright blue pen. It was a letter:

Dear Neighbour,

You’ve just moved into this complex six months ago and I was hoping it would be enough time to correct your behaviour, but you are apparently too inconsiderate to do so. Every day this week, your cat has trespassed onto my terrace and has proceeded to tear and claw at my hanging laundry, or defecate on the tile. When he’s not out he’s wailing up a storm and these walls are THIN. He seems to do this most when you and your rowdy super-spreader friends are out at the house across the street and you don’t come home until late, if at all. This behaviour is especially irritating to my bird who likes to sit at the window and stare into the street. Your cat is very disruptive to his routine. I hope you’re a bit more considerate of your neighbour and keep your cat indoors so my bird can have his time in the window. If this kind of behaviour persists, I WILL CALL THE POLICE!

Sincerely,

Candace,

“Oh my God,” Eva immediately bursted into giggles, too amused to even be mad. Perhaps the heatwave was getting to everyone just a little too much?

Nevertheless, so enthralled with the absurdity, Eva couldn’t resist snapping a picture and sending it off to her friends. And then came the opportunity to pen her response...

Approximately fifteen minutes had passed when Eva heard the FaceTime ringtone. Remington’s name flashed across the screen, just below it a picture of him she took back when they were dying his hair pink. He was sat on his chair and stared up at her with those big, round, puppy-dog eyes. 

Without a second thought she hit the answer button and his face appeared on screen. He was shrouded in darkness, the phone light the only thing illuminating the sharp edges and angles of his face. He began to laugh the moment he was live.

“Hi, baby..” he chuckled, “I don’t know what that note was... but I really want to meet your neighbours,” 

Eva simply rolled her eyes, her own smile stretching near full across her lips at the sight of Remington’s cyan hair under his toque. 

“I don’t,” she huffed, “I didn’t know you could call the police on cats, maybe she has an in with the sergeant?“

“Or she thinks we live in Florida. Because that sounds very Florida,” Remington grinned, “Now, I’m not knocking Florida, but I mean... the headlines that come up when you just google ‘Florida’,”

“Florida deserves to be its own nation,” Eva replied, “It’s rep at the G7 just shows up thirty minutes late in khakis and an alligator neck tie over a t-shirt,” 

Remington laughed to himself, taking the phone off the ledge it stood against and went to sit on his bed, “How was your day, babe?”

“Good. Stifling but good,” Eva replied, “How about you? What did you get up to?”

“Oh, you know. A little bit of music, a little bit of food, a little but of bullshit,” he grinned.

“You been writing?” she asked.

“ -- Not writing per say, more just goofing off with the instruments,” he replied, a little grin spread over his lips, “Even if I was, couldn’t show it to you just yet,”

“Aw,” Eva pouted, “But I show you all my stuff,”

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart. Or so you like to tell me,” he chided back.

Eva reclined back in her chair, crossing her arms like a child in a huff, “... fine. I’ll wait,” though she stuck out her bottom lip to make her point.

Remington wished he could kiss her. Only four hours away, so small on his screen yet he wanted nothing more than to reach in and pull her through -- or dive through on his end so he could at least be with her. He felt almost ridiculous, remembering their conversation from the night previous. C’mon dude, if you can’t last three days without her, what’re you gonna’ do when you go back on tour?

"How’s your work coming along?” he asked.

“Good,” Eva nodded, staring dully at her computer screen, “I kind of just added to my own workload with this masterpiece,” and she held up the neighbour’s letter, “But I’m keeping it all together,”

“I know you are,” he grinned, “Always so organized,” 

Eva quirked an eyebrow, “Maybe you could take a note or two,” she quipped, peaking into the screen at the mess of clothes that were scattered over the bed. Remington simpered.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” he said, glancing quickly at the clothes, “I really wish you were here, though,” 

Eva smiled, no annoyance or sadness in her face, “I am here. I’m just a bunch of pixels on screen, but I’m here,” she said. 

“Still not the same thing,” he whispered, “I’m can’t cuddle my phone,”

“... I mean -- you could if you wanted,” Eva smirked, “You could do some other things with your phone if you were really lonely,”

“Hey, you’re more than welcome to put on a show for me, darling,” he grinned.

Eva rolled her eyes, “Ooh, does my baggy t-shirt and frizzy hair turn you on, baby?” she giggled. 

“Baby, you could be in a potato sack and you’d get me hard,” he grinned with triumph. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, then,” Eva replied, “Maybe when you come home I’ll have a surprise in burlap for you,”

“Eva, don’t tease me like that!” Remington gasped, throwing his hand over his chest dramatically. Her melodic giggles filled the room, the auditory sensation bringing him ease.

They talked for a while longer, about everything and anything. Eva always admired that she could listen to Remington go on and go, and she appreciated that he always had ideas to contribute. He listened intently about the article she was writing, even though it was boring as hell he hung off of every word. She wished that she had him on her couch, two glasses of wine on the table and just their own conversation filling the void of silence. 

At some point, hearing his voice on the phone, the tabby cat leapt down from the couch and hopped onto the desk, balancing gracefully on the ledge to investigate the familiar tone of Remington.

“Uh -- Pluto!” Eva scolded, pulling him away from blocking the camera and sitting him in her lap.

“Hey! There’s my buddy!” Remington cried happily, “How ya’ doing, Pluto?”

“Oh, he’s missing his best friend,” Eva grinned, “We came home from the salon and I found him on your bed,”

“Aw, I miss him, too,” Remington said, rubbing at his heavy eyes. It didn’t hit him until a few minutes ago that they had been talking well past midnight, and fatigue hit him harder than an eighteen-wheeler.

Eva set Pluto back down on the floor, noticing that his energy was depleting rapidly. Concern graced her face.

“You want to go to sleep?” she asked him.

“No,” Remington quickly shook his head, “I’m good,”

“You sure?” she quipped, “You look really tired. I don’t mind if you want to sleep,” 

He was about to protest again, but a yawn hit him instead, “Okay, you may be right,” he admitted at the tail end, “I don’t want to hang up on you, though,”

Eva smiled sympathetically, “You got a charging chord near by?”

“Of course,”

“Then we can leave FaceTime on,” she said, “If -- if that doesn’t sound creepy,”

A sleepy smile overcame Remington, and he nodded slowly, “I’d like nothing more,” he put the phone down momentarily to grab the charging chord off the floor and plugged in his phone, standing it up against the lamp base. He then settled down into his bed, laying on his side as she continued to admire the blue light reflecting off of Eva’s face.

“You gonna’ stay up for a while?” he asked.

She nodded, “Need to finish some work. Get some sleep, though,” she smiled assuringly.

“Okay,” he sighed, settling into his sheets, “G’night beautiful. I love you,”

“I love you, too. G’night Remington,”

There was silence after that, the only sound Remington could hear was Eva’s faint typing. Eva would look over now and again, the room dark but Remington’s soft, sleeping face illuminated in a soft greyish-blue. She smiled to herself, his faint snoring reverberating through the speaker -- almost as though he was right here. This wasn’t a too terrible routine, having nights where they could talk and laugh despite being miles and miles apart. 

Though, Eva didn’t want to even begin to think about when he would have to go  on tour. A recurring but menacing problem, she had to wonder how their relationship with function -- or last, to be frank.

Despite being position right next to the phone, Remington’s own notebook was out of frame for Eva to see. On the open page, a small prose he had scribbled just before Sebastian had dinner ready. He wanted to show her so badly, but he also knew it needed some work before he would be confident enough to do such. 

Soon enough, dawn broke and Remington was once again hit by the aromatic smell of fresh coffee. He was also hit with a faint static of light snores. Shaking himself into consciousness, Remington rubbed his eyes to get a look at the phone screen, FaceTime still open and focused in on Eva -- asleep at her desk.

Her head was cushioned by her folded arms, her arms folded by loose-leaf papers and her computer screen had gone pitch black. She looked utterly adorable, and Remington couldn’t help but take a quick screenshot before waking her up.

“Eva,” he called, hopefully loud enough so she could hear him, “Sweetheart, wake up,” 

Eva woke with a start, staring frantically to realize she had fallen asleep at her desk -- again. She quickly brushed her hair off of her face, seeing Remington smiling at her through her phone. She smiled sheepishly.

“Good morning,”

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Concerned

Title: Concerned Summary: Your dad got scared when you collapsed in his arms. As a concerned father, he took you to the Emergency to be sure you were alright. Pairing: Andy Barber x Daughter Reader Prompts: #12 “It’s 4 in the morning, what do you want?” // #14 “You’re scaring me. Please, just calm down.” // Gif #7 > Concerned Andy Warnings: Sick reader, pneumonia (symptoms information are from Google), Fluff Word Count: 1142 This was written for the @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ ‘s 500 Followers Challenge. A/N: I’m not an expert on medicine, all the information used regardless of the illness was gathered from Google. This is my first time writing an Andy Barber fic. I haven’t had the chance to watch the show yet. So please, excuse me if this doesn’t match the character of the show.

^

You got back from school and found your house empty like always. Since your mom and brother’s accident, it’s been you and your dad, Andy.  This past month has been really stressful, between helping your dad to cope with everything he’s been through, school, finals, keeping your grades up, it was a lot to deal with. You started to feel bad,  your body was aching and you had a throat sore, but you never mentioned it. You couldn’t burden your dad with this, besides it wasn't that serious. You ended up with a cold, you ignored it and kept with your busy schedule; that according to it,  you must sit for at least two final exams by the end of the month, and still, you weren't able to finish your flashcards. Last night, you gave yourself a hot bath because your body was too exhausted and achy. You were finishing getting your stuff ready to work in bed, you just wanted to lay in there forever. Your dad knocked on the door once and opened it

-Sorry, sweetheart — he mumbled — dinner is ready -I’m not hungry, but thanks — you said -You have an exam, now? -Nah, I’ve got an assignment to finish, it’s due soon -Good. I’ll bring you dinner instead — your dad insisted

He got back with a tray with the food and left it at the end of the bed. You decided to finish the assignment first before eating dinner. Once everything was done and the dinner was eaten, you went back to bed to get some well-deserved sleep. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to rest enough because you had to rush to your bathroom to empty your stomach. The stress was taking all out of you. Once you were sure your stomach was empty, you stayed on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles were calming in a way the strong headache you had and brought some relief to your hot skin as well. You noticed that it was hard to breathe while laying on the floor, so you got up and went back to bed to try to get some sleep.

A coughing fit woke you up in the middle of the night, you tried to call your dad but it was really difficult. You weren’t able to breathe properly, your chest was tight and you were in pain every time you tried to take a deep breath. Your body was really hot, you were hot. The clothes you were wearing were stuck to your body, you were drenched in sweat. You needed a shower. You tried to get up but your legs gave out and you landed on your knees. You got scared when you heard the wheezing coming from your lungs. You needed your dad. With all the strength you had left, you stood up from the floor and went to your dad’s bedroom forgetting the shower you planned to take. You didn’t check what time it was, he was probably fast asleep; you knocked on his door a few times and waited. You were lightheaded, everything was spinning and still, you weren’t able to take a deep breath since you've thrown up early that night. You didn’t notice when your dad opened his door -Sweetheart, it’s 4 in the morning, what do you want? You collapsed right in front of him. The wheezing in your lungs was harder, it was so much easier to hear it, you couldn’t breathe, everything was blurry and you were burning up. -Honey, what is it? Talk to me — he told you moving the hair that was stuck in your forehead You couldn’t say anything, you were struggling to catch your breath. He noticed your lips were changing the color and we're getting purple -You’re scaring me. Please, just calm down — he told you scared Your dad noticed that you were burning up, he had to do something. He grabbed a fuzzy blanket, he put it around your shoulders. Grabbing his cellphone and the keys, he took you to the ER, your lips were turning blue by this point. The trip to the hospital was stressful for your dad, he didn’t know what was going on, the last time he checked on you, you were fine. -Why you didn’t say anything, hun? — he murmured to you

Fifteen minutes later, your dad was parking the car in the ER’s parking lot. They admitted you immediately, and half an hour later, you were resting in your room with your dad next to you. After too many tests and oxygen treatments, the doctor came and informed your dad that you had pneumonia. The doctor explained that they were going to administer you antibiotics and that you needed the oxygen mask for now. As well, the doctor stated that if your body had a good reaction to the antibiotics, you were going to be able to go back home in a few hours and make a full recovery, but right now there was a slight chance that you could get worse because your fever was still high.

The sun was entering through the window when you woke up, your dad was sitting next to you with his hand on top of yours. You didn’t remember much of what happened. You squeezed your dad’s hand to get his attention.

-Hey — your dad greeted you — how are you feeling? -I’m tired and I want to go back home — you admitted -I know, sweetheart, but we have to stay here for a little while — he told you and a tear fell down your cheek You hated being sick, it made you too emotional. Your dad sat on the bed next to you. -Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling ok? -I thought it was a cold, but I guess I was wrong — you said -Well, don’t worry sweetie, you’re going to be fine. Doctor said you’re going to make a full recovery. — he said and kissed your forehead -I’m sorry, dad — you said -There’s no need to apologize, sweety — he told you and hugged you

A few hours later, the doctor decided it was ok to send you back home because your fever got low and your oxygen levels were fine. Your dad stayed with you all the time in case your fever or another symptom showed up again. He made sure you were relaxed and rested as much as you can. He called your school notifying that you were going to be absent and he called to his studio as well saying that his little girl needed his dad. 

Sometimes you hated your dad because you almost didn’t see him, but he was with you when you needed the most. He made sure to be with his little girl.

Tag List (Let me know if you wat to be added)

@iguessweallcrazyithinktho | @void-hoechlin | @mrspeacem1nusone | @thevelvetseries | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem | @caplanbuckybarnes | @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho | @stargazingfangirl18 |

[bates--boy]

Adie was home, Adie was home, Adie was home! And the first place she picked to hang out at once she settled in was the studio. Tommy couldn’t understand the fanfare of it all -- the little decorations and catering, the formal casual attire, setting up a playlist of her favorite songs and setting out a box of her favorite movies and games -- but who was he to rain on his crew’s parade? And Adie did sound like a pretty cool kid, from the way Naseem talked about her and what Tommy could hear from the conversations when Naseem or Mike had their phones on speaker. He was happy to volunteer as the mocktail mixer at the makeshift bar on the folding table, refilling Pakiza’s plastic martini shot glass with a lemon lime soda and a green grape.

        For all this much ado about the teen’s return that was on the levels of a rave, the get-together ended up being more low-key. In-between cooing about how chunky Hasan’s gotten and how chubby and round his cheeks are, Adie told them about her pre-university immersion, earning credits and having roommates.

          “I even got to be a R.A. for a day!” Adie exclaimed as she tugged her necklace out of Hasan’s mouth and wiped it on her shirt.

          Mike narrowed his eyes. “What? How’d you get to do that? You’re just a kid.”

          Adie tucked the necklace into her shirt and gave Hasan an apple slice to gnaw on. “The actual R.A. was drunk or high or something, so she asked her friends to ‘train’ me and let me shadow them.” She shrugged it off, even as her brother, Ashira, and Mike exchanged glances while Adel and Tarsha snickered.

          “...Your R.A. was drunk?” Ashira asked, leaning forward in her seat. “Does Mama know?”

        “No, and she doesn’t need to know,” Adie said. 

       “Like hell, she doesn’t need to know!” Naseem said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “What was her name? Which hall were you staying in?”

        Adie scoffed. “Chill, y’all, okay? I’m obviously fine. ‘Sides, I might as well get used to seeing that if I’m gonna go to parties.”

        “Not while you’re studying, you ain’t!” 

        “Riiiiight, because for the whole three years I’m there, I can’t go to one party.”

      “Right!”

       Adie giggled. “Not one? At all?”

      Naseem raised his brow. “...Did I stutter?”

      “Nah, but you’re sounding a little goofy right now.” Adie shook her head and sighed. “Besides, that’s not even the worst part of it.”

       Mike lowered his drink. “It can get worse than a negligent adult in charge of children?”

      “Yeah.” Adie leaned back into the couch and played with a lock of Hasan’s coils, watching it bounce back. “Since she was drunk, we didn’t have enough adults to supervise the pre-uni party, so we had to cancel it. Which sucked because I had bought this really cute dress while there, and I even got Mr. Noah to promise me a dance!”

       Naseem sat his phone on his knee to rub his temples. “Oh, my god, I wish you’d stop being down for that expat...”

        Mike looked underneath his lashes at Ashira, who stared pointedly at first Naseem, then at Peter, who sat curled up in the egg chair and the notebook opened in his lap. He felt her eyes and looked up to meet them, smiling awkwardly at her as he wondered why she was staring at him. He was sure that Adie’s... ew, Anglophilia didn’t extend to expats who’ve done everything, right down to changing their accent, to detach themselves from the British crown.

      Ashira brushed a lock of hair back and turned back to Adie. “Naseem does have a point, sweetheart. You should really stop fixating on older men. And England. It’s becoming an unhealthy and weird obsession.”

      “Really,” Peter grumbled with a nod. “Trust me, Adie, whatever ideas you have about England is fake. It’s not a magical or whimsical land of fairytales and charming gentlemen who are looking to sweep you off your feet. It's just a tiny island that gets a lot of rain. Oh, and Boris Johnson and Piers Morgan. Eugh."

        Peter didn't catch the disappointed and embarrassed pout on Adie's face as he had his eyes focused on his notebook.

        "...I mean," Adie mumbled, her cheeks coloring, her years of cultural admiration shat on. "It's not just because he was from England. Mr. Noah said he was going to teach me to waltz."

        Peter snorted, scratching a word out on the page and writing a better one above it. "That all? Shit, then I could teach you any day."

        It was supposed to be a derisive jab; his attention divided, Peter thought it came out how he intended it to: dismissive and snarky, because a dance wasn't worth fawning over some dude or country -- a country that the form of dance hadn't even originated from! If Adie was looking to be swept around in a large ball gown, she could head to any class or event for that, because the waltz (so boring, so predictable and stiff and so much of a waste of his childhood summers) was not that special.

        Except...

        "...You mean it? You'll waltz with me?"

        Except Peter looked up from his notebook and had almost all eyes, even Pakiza but especially Adie, boring into him expectantly. Some surprised, but mostly amused.

        "Uh... I... I didn't say--"

        "Awww, c'mon man!" Naseem threw a hand up. "Don't dangle it in front of my sister like that! Dance with her!"

        "Nazz, you were just bitching about older Brits dancing with her."

        "Yeah, but I don't like Noah," Naseem said about a man that Ashira would have been quick to point out her husband had met only twice, if not for her giggling behind her hand. "I trust you. Dance with my sister, dude!"

        Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys I don't-- hey!"

        His crew started booing him and throwing raisins and bits of bread at him. Even Hasan, who wanted to join in on the fun, flung what was left of his apple piece in Peter's direction and was off by a foot and forty degrees.

        "Agh!" Peter ducked and covered his arms over his head as the booing morphed into chants of Dance with her! Dance with her! "Alright, okay! Okay!"

        He stumbled to his feet, brushing food off his body. "I'll dance with our guest of honor."

        And the studio filled with cheers and whistles and clapping, and Tommy saying within the applause, "Get out of your funky mood, my guy", which Peter chose to ignore as he went over to Adie. Adie handed the baby to Ashira, anticipation glowing all over her face despite her trying to keep a composed face.

        Okay, Peter will admit that he felt like an ass at that moment, standing above Adie as she radiated absolute glee, for trying to burst her Anglophilic bubble. Not that he was wrong about England or the waltz, but he wondered when he had become such a dream killer? And for something so benign? Curse Peter's heart for softening at Adie's chocolate, doe eyes and her smile cracking wider as the eagerness became too much. He saw Mike from the corner of his eye fiddling with his phone; moments later, music started to billow out from the speakers.

        Peter imagined that he looked far from the princely charming Brit in Adie's fantasy, being that he had a long ponytail, industrial ear piercings, and a depressingly black oversized hoodie over skinny jeans. Still, he cleared his throat, folded an arm behind his back, and held out his palm.

        "Miss Adizue," Peter said, slipping easily back into his natural accent. "Will you do me the honor of having this dance with me?"

        Adie slipped her hand into his and stifled a giggle. "I would love to."

        Holding her hand high, Peter led her to the open floor space of the studio. He placed her hand on his shoulder, placed his just above the small of her back, and swallowed whatever sense of long suffering down as he counted off the music. "Alright, Adie, the basic is following my lead, okay? I step forward with my left foot and you step back with your right, and..."

        Wow, she was a natural. She was a little stiff moving, misstepped a couple times (and stepped on Peter's toe, making him glad he went for a pair of old-ish boots) and Peter had to remind her not to look down at her feet, but she was picking it up quickly. He did feel bad that she didn't get to wear her cute dress and that he didn't dress up even more appropriately for this. Her laugh was dream-like and full of joy, growing past the shyness until she was unabashedly throwing her head back.

        The song ended, and Peter bowed to Adie's sweater curtsy.

        "Uncle Peter, I wanna princess dance next!"

        Adie stepped just in time for Pakiza to launch herself at Peter's legs, hugging one of them and looking up at him in that cute way she knew Peter couldn't resist. She even looked like a little princess in her pink plaid jumper and glittery party tiara. Curse these beautiful children.

        Peter waited until Pakiza unlatched herself from Peter's leg to bow and hold out his hand. "May I have this dance, Miss Pakiza?"

        Pakiza placed her hand into Peter's. "Yes, please!"

        Peter had his new dance partner stand on his feet, once again glad that he had went with the boots. Still, he instructed her on how to step and where, when to spin, when to pause, so that when the time came for her to dance on the floor, she'd be sort of ready. Although, he was sure she was going to forget it as soon as her parents tucked her in for bed. Four-year-olds are predictable like that.

        Pakiza skipped away to Mike to get him to dance with her. Why not? Tarsha and Adel were on the floor, too, and Tommy stepped and danced about with Hasan squealing in his arms. Because Peter was on a roll, he also skipped away, snickering at the surprise on Ashira's face as he landed in a bow in front of her with his hand out.

        Before he got to ask the question, Ashira held her palm out and shook her head. "I'm good."

        Peter, feeling a little embarrassed but not wholly put off, was about to turn back to Adie to see if she wanted another go, when behind him Naseem spoke up.

        "I'll have a dance with you."

        Peter turned and looked over his shoulder. Naseem was already rising from his chair, straightening his clothes and tilting his chin up. "... You're... Serious?"

        "Yeah!" Naseem snorted. "What, two men can't waltz?"

        "I mean, I think so. I just...." He shrugged, gesturing for words. "You know, never known any who had."

        "If that's true, then we'll be the first pair." Naseem quirked a brow, still waiting.

        "...R-right!" Peter turned to Naseem, barely noticing the sour tension on Ashira's face, and bowed with his hand out. "May I have this dance, Mr. Naseem?"

        "It'll be my pleasure," Naseem replied, taking Peter's hand, "Mr. Peter."

        The two moved around the table to get to the designated dance floor, getting into position. Peter looked into Naseem's eyes and said, "Alright, we'll count off. When I step forward, you--"

        "Actually, you know what?" Naseem cut in. "I want to lead."

        Peter wasn't opposed to the ideas, but he still had to swallow a gasp as Naseem's hand slid down from his shoulder to his hip, nowhere near the proper placement. Naseem's fingers hitched Peter's hoodie up, not enough to be noticeable by anyone except the man who had warm fingers pressing onto his bare skin. Peter should say something to correct this.

        "Alright, how do I lead?"

        "Ah... Right! Left! I mean--"" he broke one of the rules and let his eyes fall to their feet. "You step forward with your left foot, and guide me back..."

        Peter was too nervous teaching this way. How many dance teachers taught from the follower's position? Sure, there are probably hundreds of instances of waltz being taught like this, but did they have a leader breaking decorum while swinging them around to the music? Being held a little too close for proper stepping? A hand placed on the wrong place and accidentally inching higher and higher within their top? The other hand squeezing around theirs, the thumbs brushing against each other?

        "You're, wow, you're doing great," Peter said, because even if the dance felt off, he had to still be encouraging to his student."

        "Thanks, Peter," Naseem said. "You know, I think this is the first time I ever felt like Prince Charming."

        Peter couldn't help but smile dryly, glad for an opportunity for some teasing. "Oh, so you're Prince Charming now, huh? Why, because you're technically sweeping me off my feet?"

        Naseem shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe."

        Peter snorted. "Hmph, too I didn't get to wear my Cinderella cosplay. We could've had the whole experience! Pumpkin coach, mice turning into horses--"

        "Even a kiss at midnight, right?"

        Peter stared up, wide-eyed and silent, his steps going automatic as his mind seemed to have frozen. He was, once again, hypersensitive to Naseem's fingers that he realized hadn't move much throughout this number. He was too aware of their fingers locked in their raised hands. He lowered his gaze to Naseem's mouth, waiting for that too cool, too easy grin to widen, and for Naseem to erupt in laughter.

        "...They didn't actually kiss at midnight," Peter said in a voice too hoarse even in his own ears, his eyes flickering back up.

        And thank God, Naseem did throw his head back and howl with laughter. Peter followed along, first strained and uneasy, then matching Naseem's carefree sound.

        "Yeah," Peter chuckled, "That would be a little too much effort for cosplay."

        "Right?" Naseem said. Then, more quietly, so easily that Peter wasn't sure he had heard him correctly, he added, "Like we'd need all of that extra stuff."

        Peter wished he had asked Naseem what the hell did that mean, but his throat had dried before Naseem pulled away to try to convince Ashira to join in the fun.

[meliakim]

Help From Yoongi-hyung (Pt. 2)

Jimin asks his hyung for more help.

Jimin once again approached the door of Yoongi’s hotel room and knocked. He wasn’t as quick to answer the door this time, but when he did, Jimin noticed headphones around his hyung's neck. “You’re back? How did it go with Min?” Yoongi asked. Jimin shrugged and said, “I guess as good as it could’ve… Hey, what are you up to now?” Yoongi rubbed his eyes, as he had been staring at his computer screen. “I was working on some music,” he answered.

“Good,” Jimin said, gently pushing past his hyung and inviting himself into his room. “I need help writing my song for ‘Love Yourself: Her’ intro,” Jimin said as he sat down on the armchair sitting next to Yoongi’s desk chair. Yoongi chucked and sat back down in his desk chair. “You should be done with that song by now… I’ve already started working on my solo song that’s not even going to be released for another year!” Yoongi said. “I know, but I’ve been struggling with what to write the song about, but I’ve just figured it out,” Jimin replied.

“I want to write the song about Min… or… rather to Min… telling her how I feel about her,” Jimin said, shyly, still not quite used to admitting to someone out loud how he felt about Min. Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “So, a love confession?” he asked. Jimin shrugged and replied, “more or less… I know how passionate Min is about music, and if I could just come up with a song good enough… I think it would be the proper way to finally confess to her.” Yoongi found this to be extremely cute, but he tried to hide his smile.

“You’re the best at composing and writing lyrics, which is why I wanted to come to you for help. I want this to be perfect,” Jimin said sincerely, looking over at his hyung. “Well, if that’s the case, I need to make a better set-up,” he said, turning to his desk. He untangled some wires and unplugged a few things before heading to his suitcase and pulling out a MIDI keyboard, microphone, mini soundboard, and another headphone set. Jimin watched him in amazement as Yoongi gingerly plugged in all his equipment to his laptop.

“Do you have any ideas for lyrics yet?” Yoongi asked as he worked on his travel studio set-up. “I have a few in mind… like ‘the universe has moved for us, our happiness was meant to be,’ er… what else? I guess I should start writing it down,” Jimin said, drawing a blank. “It’s not too cheesy, is it?” he asked, afraid of what Yoongi would think of it. “I think it’s sweet… it makes me think of serendipity… like how everything somehow works together by chance,” Yoongi said as he typed something on his computer.

“How is this? ‘The universe has moved for us without missing a single thing, our happiness was meant to be ‘cause you love me.’l Yoongi quoted from the lyrics he was beginning to write down. “Ohhh, Yoongi-hyung you’re so good!!! Hmm… how would it sound with ‘and I love you’ at the end of that?” Jimin asked. “Well, we haven’t come up with the tune and rhythm yet, so anything is game,” he said, adding Jimin’s suggestion to the end of the line.

“Really, we should start with the tune and flow of the song before we get into more lyrics,” Yoongi suggested. He stared at his MIDI keyboard, then had an idea. “You know… this is the first intro to any of our albums that is done by a vocal line member. I think it would be cool if we emphasized your voice in this song… and maybe add some light beats in the background,” Yoongi suggested. Jimin nodded. “And by emphasizing my voice, hopefully my message to Min will be clear,” he agreed.

Yoongi put on his headset and began messing around on the piano setting of his keyboard, coming up with a melody that he thought would sound good when sung in Jimin’s voice. After a few minutes, he passed Jimin the other headset and played what he had come up with so far. “Yoongi-hyung! You’re so quick in coming up with a melody!” Jimin said, impressed. He listened to it repeatedly, until he got used to the tune, then he began humming to it. “Can you move the key down half a step?” Jimin asked. Yoongi pushed a few buttons on his laptop, changing the key to A♭.

Jimin hummed along to the track again and nodded with a satisfied smile. “That’s better,” he said. Yoongi made a few more notes and then re-recorded a part based on how Jimin sounded with it. “It would sound good if it went high and then back low here,” he explained the one part and the change he made. The pair continued to do this for hours, adjusting each note to fit Jimin’s style, him humming the tune all the while. They finally made it past the tune of the verses and came up with the chorus melody and refrain as well.

“Ooo, what about ‘Just let me love you’? and then there can be kind of an echo like ‘let me love let me love you’?” Jimin suggested when they decided to move back to the lyrics. Yoongi nodded and played the refrain track to test his lyrics out. After hearing Jimin sing to it, he smiled satisfactorily and wrote it down. The pair continued to think of lyrics, writing them down and tweaking them to fit the melody Yoongi wrote, until every part of the song had a lyric to go with it.

“Ok, let’s see how it all sounds back-to-back,” Yoongi said, putting on his headset and handing the mic over to Jimin. Jimin put on the other headset and took the mic from Yoongi, clearing his throat and then nodding to him as if to say, “I’m ready.” Yoongi played the piano melody track in the background, guiding Jimin to sing the tune that they had written. Still not quite used to the lyrics, Jimin messed up a few times, but then was finally able to record the vocal sample for the whole two-minute track.

Jimin took off his headset while Yoongi did some mixing, then he unplugged it and played it out loud for Jimin to hear, without the piano melody in the background. Jimin balled his hands up in fists and shook them like he did when he was excited, grabbing onto Yoongi’s shoulders and squeezing him. “Hyung!!! It sounds so good already!!!” Jimin said as Yoongi tried to wriggle himself out of the tight grip of affection. “We’ll obviously have to record the final in the real studio, but we have a good track to go off of,” Yoongi said.

“Since we have your voice now, I can delete the original piano melody,” Yoongi said, finding the file on his computer. “Wait!!” Jimin said, an idea suddenly popping into his head. “Can you actually re-record the piano, but a little nicer?” he asked. “You don’t think my piano playing was good enough??” Yoongi teased, shaking his head before saying, “no, I really don’t think the song will sound good if your voice is overpowered by the piano.”

“No, I mean, record it as a cover of the song… I think the melody you wrote is so nice, I had the idea of dancing to it, maybe even with Min,” Jimin explained. “Ahh, then she’d also get used to the sound of the song and form a connection with it beforehand,” Yoongi said, now understanding what Jimin wanted a piano version of it for. Jimin smiled and said, “exactly!!” before standing up from his seat and stretching, suddenly aware that there was a bright light trying to sneak into the room behind the curtains.

He walked over towards the window and pulled the curtain back further, only to see the view of the NYC cityscape, with the sun rising in the background. “What time is it?!” he asked, looking down at his phone and seeing it was 5:30 in the morning. “Did we really work all through the night?” he asked, bewildered that it was already morning. Yoongi was either ignoring him or was so engrossed in playing his MIDI keyboard that he didn’t answer Jimin’s questions. When he was done re-recording it, he mixed it with a small amount of percussion and synth in the background to make it sound professional, then he emailed it to Jimin before taking his headphones off.

“I emailed the cover to you,” Yoongi said. “Do you realize what time it is??” Jimin asked, still staring out the window at the sunrise. Yoongi shrugged and said, “I’m used to all-nighters,” before getting up and stretching. Jimin’s phone buzzed at the receiving of Yoongi’s email with the instrumental version of “Intro: Serendipity,” and he was reminded of how much his hyung helped him over the course of the night. While Yoongi was still stretching, Jimin quickly approached him and wrapped his arms around his chest. “Thank you so much for helping me,” was all Jimin was able to say.

Touch-me-not-Yoongi gently slapped Jimin’s arm until he let go of his grip and said, “I didn’t do this for you… I did it for Min!” He halfway lied, as he truly did it for the both of them, but he wasn’t willing to admit he had a soft side towards his younger member that had become like a brother to him. “Either way I am grateful to you, hyung,” Jimin said, bowing out of gratitude to him. Yoongi, starting to feel sentimental at the sight of Jimin in love, just shook his head.

“Yeah, whatever… Will you leave me alone now so I can get some sleep? You’ve stolen enough hours from my life already,” Yoongi complained, though Jimin just continued to smile brightly, beyond satisfied with the work they were able to accomplish together. “Fair enough, I’ll let you get some sleep! I should probably rest too,” Jimin said, starting to realize how tired he was. He headed towards the door and turned to Yoongi once more and bowed. “Thank you again, hyung,” Jimin said one final time before exiting, leaving Yoongi alone in his makeshift studio.

[halfway-happyyy]

An Invisible String

AN: This is something I’ve been working on for quite a while now, and it is a little different than my usual pieces. It will probably be about three or four installments. If you enjoy it (or even if you don’t) (I don’t do too many chaptered pieces... like, ever) please feel free to send feedback. Warnings include: mentions of suicidal tendencies, depression, anxiety, past mentions of domestic physical and mental abuse. Loosely inspired by the music video for ‘High Hopes’ by Kodaline.

Synopsis: Depressed, suicidal and recently single Alexander Skarsgård is at the end of his rope. But he is about to find out that no matter where you come from, what your pain looks like, or what your truth is... The universe will always fight for souls to be together.

part 2, part 3

“I mean… Maybe, somehow, something good will come of all this change.”

Those words had chimed through the confines of his brain like a clear bell, multiple times since he had last laid eyes on her. He sighed heavily and drew an arm back to cast his fishing line out into the great blue abyss before him. Though he had loved his wife with every fiber of his being, he had grown to detest her incessant need to find the positives in every single situation, towards the dissolution of their ten-year marriage.

“Oh, Alexander.” She caressed a warm palm against the curve of his stubbled cheek. “I just think it wasn’t in the cards for us, my love.”

A single day had not passed that he did not wish his relationship with her had ended differently. Past arguments, miniscule or gargantuan in scale often played on a loop in his mind like a scratched record. Was there anything within his power that he could have done to make her stay? He had concluded a while ago that that question would likely torment him for the rest of his life if he let it. And as the burnt orange sun sank low over the Baltic Sea, he took solace in the fact that he would not have to wonder long at all.

Three hundred and sixty-five days had elapsed since his wife had left him, and daily routines had been mostly kept the same. He still managed to get up every morning, still went for walks around the park. Every now and then he would strap on his hip-waders and fish for hours, and when he was finished, he would go home and shower and then head to the pub for the evening. He found early on that there was not enough alcohol in the world that he could consume to drown out the dreams of her. Frustratingly, days took longer to get through. And it was not that he minded the sudden aloneness… As the eldest brother of seven siblings he had come to enjoy solitude. Quiet mornings out on the water, even quieter evenings at home with a warm fire and a book. It was the fact that this loneliness had been thrust upon him like an extremely unwanted gift. He had no idea what to do with it. So, after careful consideration he made up his mind one morning over a cup of scalding, black coffee that just simply disappearing would probably be the easiest solution to his problems. She had clearly moved on, and it was only fitting that he try and do the same as well… just on a more permanent level. So, he allowed himself a week to set his affairs in order, left a letter for each of his siblings, and on a Friday morning in mid-May took the car to a field a few blocks away from his house. He fixed one end of the hose to the exhaust pipe with an old sock, and the other he fed back into the car from the front window. He could not begin to guess how long this whole ordeal would take, and he wondered briefly if it would be as insignificant as simply falling asleep. Just as he was about to turn the ignition over, he heard in the distance the sound of muffled yelling. He glanced towards the rearview mirror but could make out nothing of consequence, so he sat back a moment and listened. The yelling grew louder, and another glance to the rearview mirror offered something he could not quite make sense of. A woman was running full tilt towards his car, the edges of her white wedding dress clutched tightly in both fists. As she approached the car faster, he noticed a mob of angry men crest the hilltop behind her and she stopped at his door, her chest heaving under the duress of the journey she had just completed. Mascara cascaded down her face like raindrops down a windowsill and she cocked her head to the side in unabashed astonishment. “Alexander?” She inquired, breathlessly.

In a state of shock, he opened his door to get out and stocked around to the back of the car, yanking the hose and sock from the exhaust pipe. He then wandered to the passenger side and held the door open for her which she had obliged gratefully. He paid no more attention to the fast-approaching group of men as he tossed the hose and sock into the backseat and shoved the car into drive. An eerie silence befell the vehicle while his passenger tried to catch her breath. Alexander found the questions he wanted to ask her were suddenly boundless; What on earth could Thea McHugh be doing in this field, in a wedding dress of all things? Where was she going? And most importantly, what had happened to her? He scratched a hand uncomfortably along the strip of stubble beneath his chin, formulating how best to broach the first subject. “Thea… my god. What- where can I bring you?”

She took a steadying breath and turned to him, gaze downcast. “I have nowhere to go.”

He allowed himself a second to take his focus from the road to glance at her. “You don’t reside around here?”

She shook her head. “I lived with my fiancé.”

Alexander was not entirely sure when he had made the decision to bring her back to his home, but if he had to guess, it was probably around the time she had pulled the discarded sock over her fist and used it as a macabre hand puppet. Halfway through the drive he noticed the tip of his silver flask peeking out from beneath the leather interior of his side door and he offered her some of its contents, which she accepted graciously. Neither of them said much as he drove up the lane to the house in which he had bid goodbye not less than two hours earlier. He shifted the car into park and sat unmoving, sparing himself a few moments to try and figure out what the fuck he was going to do now. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” He asked after a while.

She shook her head wordlessly.

Alexander elicited a small sigh and glanced toward the stone structure a few yards away, hardly believing the words that had begun to take shape in his mind. “Listen… I’ve got plenty of space here, if you need a few days to get your feet back on solid ground.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head no, her pink lips parting in protest. “I couldn’t intrude on you like that… we’re strangers now.”

“Yeah, well… we weren’t always.” He shrugged slowly and took a steadying breath. “Look- there is a motel a few miles down the road that I would be happy to take you to… but I wouldn’t suggest it to my worst enemy. And by the sounds of it, you don’t have any close kin around anymore,” Again, he scratched a hand through the stubble on the underside of his chin. “And your business is entirely your own Thea, but if you need a place to stay, and if you’re not too weary of strangers,” He was not sure how much he liked the sound of that word. “Then I think I could be of some assistance to you.”

She offered up a small smile. “If it really wouldn’t be too much of an imposition- I would be very appreciative, thank you.”

Clambering out of the vehicle, he made his way over to her side of the door and opened it so that she could exit. She followed him up the narrow, cobbled path to the front door and stood a few feet behind him while he fumbled around in his pocket for the keys. He took a deep breath, fit the key into the lock and pushed the door open. He leant against the frame for support as she quietly stepped past him into the darkened entrance. “It's not much…” He found himself murmuring as he watched her take in her current surroundings.

She turned to him, eyes glimmering vibrantly in the waning dusk light. “It's more than enough. Thank you, Alexander.”

He cleared his throat and offered her a curt nod in response, pushing himself back from the wooden doorframe. “I'll be right back with some clothing… for you.” He fished around at the back of his wardrobe for a pair of tattered sweatpants, a t shirt and sweater. When he returned moments later, she had found herself a seat at the kitchen table, her gaze fixed out the garden window at something unseen. She smiled graciously and accepted the clothing with a quiet thank you. “The washroom is down the hall on the left.” He watched her disappear and turned to brace himself against the kitchen sink. Five minutes had elapsed before he heard the familiar creak of the opening bathroom door. He waited for any other indication that she was coming back but when he missed it, he followed the sound of the silence. He found her perched inside the threshold of another room in which he made a conscious habit of completely forgetting was there. He cleared his throat to make his presence known and she turned to him, eyes wide.

“May I go in?”

Alexander shifted uneasily on the spot. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and conceded. “Sure.”

He had accidentally picked up painting a year and half after he had gotten married. His studio had never really meant to be one for art, but rather a nursery for the baby girl who never quite made the journey into the world. He had returned home after a fishing weekend away with his brothers to find that his wife had done away with everything in the room except that she had left behind an easel, a tin of brushes, and numerous tubes of oil paint.

Thea wandered slowly around the room, absorbing the canvases adorning almost every square inch of space. He marveled at how bizarre it was to feel so naked in front of someone he never thought he would see again. He watched her trace a feather-light touch over an angry mass of scarlet paint on one of the last canvases he had ever worked on. She let her hand drop to her side and turned to him, eyebrow cocked in question. “When did you get into painting?”

He scratched absentmindedly at a spot on the back of his neck. “About twelve years ago, now.”

“These are gorgeous.”

Alexander chewed anxiously at the hollow of his cheek. “They used to help pass the time.” He allowed himself a moment to regard her in the dim evening light of the room. His clothing fit loose on her, and he tried in vain to ignore the questions creeping back into his mind. There still existed something entirely alluring about her; perhaps it was the way that she still seemed so much like the eighteen-year old girl he had fallen for so many years before- time had been kind to her. Or maybe it was the simple fact that she had known him long before his life cracked open and fell apart. Not caring much for where this train of thought was taking him, he cleared his throat and gestured to the kitchen. “I'm going to get something together for dinner.”

Eating together had been a quiet affair. He had found that the questions he had been burning to ask earlier felt inappropriate at this point, so he simply kept to himself. It also did not help that he was entirely unaccustomed to having another living, breathing person in the house with him. When she was finished eating, Thea excused herself from the table to rinse her dishes and gestured with her chin to his empty plate. “Are you finished?”

“All done,” Alexander confirmed and rose from his chair to join her at the sink. “You don’t need to do that…” He murmured as he watched her turn the tap to full hot and pump three gobs of green dish soap into the water beneath her.

Thea shrugged indifferently. “It’s the least I can do. Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

He glanced over at the fried cod in the cast-iron pan, and at the garden-picked green beans in the yellow flowered dish next to it on the stove. He had never been much of a cook, so he suspected that she had merely said that to be polite, but he accepted the compliment with another curt nod regardless. When the dishes were done, he cleared his throat and swayed from side to side, hands buried deep in his denim pockets. “I can give you a quick tour of the place if you’d like.” Thea smiled softly and nodded her head in agreeance. He stocked down the hardwood floored hallway, intending to show her to her room first. The door had been closed and he hesitated a second before opening it to reveal a quaint guest room. He flicked on the light and stood back as she wandered into the room, taking every inch of it in. The walls had been washed in a robin’s-egg blue, and a wicker chair stood in the corner of the room next to a white pain-chipped wardrobe. White floor-length linen curtains hung from the windowsill beneath a cream-coloured wire bedframe. “If there’s anything you need…” He offered awkwardly. “Extra blankets, or anything of the like… please let me know.”

Thea turned to him; her arms wrapped protectively around her frame and offered up a small smile. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He turned on his heel and left without saying anything, assuming she would follow which she did. “The bathroom is here, the handle on the toilet can be a bit dodgy so just watch out for that when you can.” He wracked his brain for any other useful information that he could offer up. “Uh and the bathtub…” He gestured with his chin to the white claw-foot tub beneath the cracked window. “The water tends to get extremely hot incredibly fast so you may need to run the cold water a little bit beforehand.” He nodded his head in finality, took one last look around the washroom and left her be.

Sleep had continued to evade him that night as it had almost every night for the past two years. The questions had been ceaseless; each time he had just nearly drifted off, another one swam into his mind’s eye and he found himself obsessing over it. What was he thinking bringing her into his house? Why had he even entertained the idea in the first place? What was it about her? He lay awake until the clock next to his bed read ‘3:47 A’, and the birdsong floating in on the half-open window helped to lull his body into a fitful slumber. He jolted awake a few hours later to the sound of a crash in the direction of the kitchen. A cold sweat had broken out over the expanse of his naked upper body, and he fought to keep his breathing slow and steady while he came to the realization that he was not alone anymore. He fumbled around in the dawn light for the beige cable-knit sweater next to his bed, which he threw over himself with a shiver. The scent of sizzling butter in a hot pan greeted him first, followed by freshly brewed coffee. It made his mouth water and it struck him that he could not remember the last time he had been genuinely hungry for food. He was not entirely sure what he would find when he rounded the corner to the kitchen, so when he saw Thea’s form bent over the stove he was taken aback. He stood staring longer than he cared to admit, while she scrambled what looked like eggs, a furrowed expression heavy on her face. She pulled back from the stove to glance around the area, searching for something unknown. “Are you looking for the salt?” He had startled her because she pulled back from the stove as if she had been burned, her eyes wide and alarmed. 

She shook her head slowly. “The pepper…” 

Alexander jutted his chin towards the hanging shelf above her head. It was adorned with bottles of olive oil, a dish of salt and sugar, and a pepper grinder. She smiled gratefully at him and reached for it. “I think I woke you up…” She murmured as she twisted the black grinder above the eggs cooking in the pan. “I’m sorry.”

Alexander shook his head wordlessly and pulled out the chair at the kitchen table. “I’m not uh… exactly used to having someone else around so there isn’t really much I don’t miss.”

“I took the liberty of cooking some breakfast. I couldn’t remember how you took your eggs, so I decided to play it safe and scramble them.” She turned to face him; her expression unreadable. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” He watched her fumble around for the cupboard with the plates and almost gave in when she elicited a triumphant ‘a-ha!’ And pulled two ceramic yellow plates from the cupboard in the far corner. “Mugs are in the cupboard next to it,” He offered easily. She threw him back a thumbs up in response.

“Do you still take your coffee black?” She asked.

Alexander scrubbed a palm down the side of his stubbled cheek. “Yes please.”

She joined him at the table a moment later, setting down his plate of steaming eggs, fresh buttered toast and a sliced apple. She poured him a cup of coffee which he thanked her for and watched her spoon two heaping spoonsful of sugar into her own mug. They were silent as they went to work on their breakfasts, both basking in the warm sunny glow from the open kitchen window. “How did you end up out here, if I may ask?” She asked once she had taken her last bite of egg.

Alexander swallowed back a mouthful of the deliciously warm liquid and shook his head. “I moved out here when I met my wife.”

The only indication that Thea had been surprised at this revelation was by the way her expressive gaze widened the slightest bit. She too stole herself a sip of coffee before she asked her next question. “And you live here… alone now?”

“I do.” He tipped the last of the liquid into his mouth and removed himself from the chair, taking her empty plate as he did so. “Thank you for the breakfast.”

“It was my pleasure.”

After the morning wash-up, Alexander excused himself to tend to some things that needed done around the house. They were menial tasks; a broken hinge to a door in the basement, a couple of the chairs in the kitchen were loose and falling apart and were in dire need of some good, old fashioned hammer and nails. They were simple undertakings that he had never intended to make good on- Because as far as he was concerned, and it was all written down in his will, his house would go to his brother Bill and their growing family. None of this would have been any of his problem if he had just followed through with his original plan yesterday. But as usual, and he was beginning to think that this was simply his lot in life, there was always something else just around the corner for him.

Dinner had been less of a quiet affair that evening. Alexander had come up earlier in the day to thaw a chicken he had found in the freezer that morning and had left it to roast in its own seasonings. Thea prepared roasted potatoes to go with it, and instead of making any semblance of a salad, (he very badly needed to grocery shop) he threw together a bowl of chopped cherry tomatoes, a few handfuls of garden-grown basil, fresh sliced red onions and balsamic vinegar. “You like cooking now?” Thea asked as she stood leant against the stove watching Alexander chop the cherry tomatoes.

Alexander offered up a gruff laugh in response. “Does anyone enjoy cooking, Thea?”

“Mhm, as a matter of fact lots of people do.”

He tossed the rest of the tomatoes into the glass bowl and reached for the onion. “I suppose you’re right… but I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite thing in the world.” He glanced over at her. “I think it’s one of those things that if you’re only doing it for yourself, it becomes more of a chore than a hobby.” Which was true for him at the very least. He had enjoyed cooking when he and his wife lived together but after she left, the passion for it had dissipated almost as suddenly as she had.

“Alexander, the chicken…” Thea’s voice, or rather the sound of his name from her mouth caught him off guard and shook him from his reverie. The timer on the oven had begun to elicit a high pitch whistling sound which he turned off and reached for a ripped dish towel on the counter below him. “Smells delicious,” She simpered as he pulled the scalding dish from the oven and set it on a hot plate at the set table.

“Yes well… hopefully it’s edible.”

Alexander had a hard time remembering a dinner in recent memory that was as satisfying as the one he had just consumed. He sat back in his chair; one arm slung around the top of the wooden frame. “What do you do for a living now, Thea?”

She swallowed the sip of wine she had just taken and set the glass against the wooden tabletop with a soft thud. “I owned a bakery and café downtown.” There was something familiar in the way her eyes twinkled in whatever light she happened to be in that made Alexander want to spend the next fifty years staring at her. He watched her trace a fingertip around the rim of her almost empty glass. “The business... went under two and half months before my wedding.” A silence had befallen them that was not necessarily uncomfortable. “How about you?” She asked after a while, meeting his gaze across the table.

Alexander shook his head. “I don’t work at the moment.” 

If she was surprised by this, she never let it show. “I’m sorry to hear that,” She offered softly. Alexander could hear the earnestness in her tone and believed her. “What did you do?”

He cleared his throat and deposited the rest of the white wine into his open mouth. “I owned an art gallery in town,” He glanced at the empty wine bottle and suddenly wished that there had been more. “I sold the business about a year and a half ago now. Just after my divorce was finalized.”

As the silence took shape around them, Alexander knew there existed something unspoken between the pair of them; some sort of invisible barrier which hindered either of them from asking what they so desperately wanted to know, which was: What on earth were you doing in that field yesterday afternoon?

[aion-rsa]

The Many Saints of Newark Is a Trashy Gangster B-Movie, There’s Nothing Wrong with That

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When I first walked out of The Many Saints of Newark, my initial reaction was to call it a B-movie. What I didn’t say at the time, however, was how much I love B-movies. While I saw the flaws in the film and couldn’t wholly endorse it to cinemagoers spoiled by the perfection of The Godfather, Goodfellas, and New Jack City, I can wholeheartedly recommend it to people like me. Those who appreciate the low-budget gangster movies sometimes because of their warts. A majority of fans of The Sopranos will have the same reaction: Meh, The Many Saints of Newark could have been better. So when’s it playing next? I plan to see it again, more than once, on the big screen.

In one of the film’s quieter moments, the Soprano family is gathered around a TV set, watching the classic Key Largo (1948). The specific scene on the screen begins when Humphrey Bogart’s cynical combat veteran Frank McCloud defuses a tense situation with the gangster Johnny Rocco. Played by Edward G. Robinson, Rocco is very loosely based on Charles “Lucky” Luciano, the godfather of organized crime, who had been deported and barred from American soil. He is suffering the same doubts Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) worries about in the pilot episode of The Sopranos: Are the best days of this “thing” over?

All gangsters want, as the black and white film explains, is more. Will they ever get enough? They never have. I don’t suppose they will. It is the same for gangster genre fans. We want more. And it doesn’t have to be great. “I don’t want it good. I want it Tuesday,” Jack Warner famously said about the gangster films his studio excelled in. Warner Bros. invented the gangster genre, and I felt a thrill when their name came first on the screen during The Many Saints of Newark. WB’s Key Largo is a prestige film. It’s got John Huston directing, he’d go on to make amazing mob movies, culminating with his magnificent Prizzi’s Honor. Key Largo boasts an A-list offering with top stars like Lauren Bacall, Claire Trevor, and Lionel Barrymore. And it’s a pairing of two legends who take their performances seriously, and believe in the art of acting: Bogart and Robinson.

But Bogart and Robinson made four B-movie gangster classics before they made the prestigious Key Largo: Bullets or Ballots, Kid Galahad, Brother Orchid, and The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse, which was so badly scripted that the two leads took to calling it “The Amazing Dr. Clitoris.” I’ve seen it eight times. Are there holes in the story? Of course. And they don’t get any better after the third viewing. What does get better is watching the performances of two professional actors in films they are on record as saying they did not like. Twice, as it turns out, because it was revived as a radio play a few years later, according to the book Bogart, by A.M. Sperber and Eric Lax.

Robinson played a psychiatrist, studying Bogart’s gangster, and the two characters bond while keeping a wary distance. This is very similar to the dynamic between Tony Soprano and Dr. Melfi (Lorraine Bracco) on The Sopranos. She even worried the mob boss was using their therapeutic sessions in the furtherance of crime, something Bogart’s character did in the B-movie gangster film, King of the Underworld, which is awful and I never miss. I love that movie, not in spite of Bogie’s misunderstanding of the meaning of “the moronic type,” but because of it. He doesn’t do that in other movies, even in the masterful B-movie gangster comedies, It All Came True and All Through the Night.

But Bogart also made Dead End (1937), a quality piece, which happens to be my favorite film, ever. Based on the play by Sidney Kingsley, it spends a lot of its time in the same way The Many Saints of Newark does: teaching the young generation how to be gangsters. This is seen even more blatantly in the film Angels With Dirty Faces (1938), which paired James Cagney with the Dead End Kids. But threads of this even reach the juvenile delinquent movie Blackboard Jungle, also not a big-budget film, but realistic enough to show the teenagers were actually moving swag for bigger names.

It happens in real life, the mob looks to street gangs for promising young movers. Future dons make their bones wearing colors. Gangster films capture this. From Nino Brown (Wesley Snipes) in Mario Van Peebles’ New Jack City to Spike Lee’s Clockers, original gangstas groom carbon copies. Dickie Moltisanti (Alessandro Nivola) sees potential in young Tony Soprano (Michael Gandolfini) during The Many Saints of Newark. Great potential.

When Tony and his young gang hijack the Mr. Softee truck and give out ice cream to kids for free, it feels like The Sopranos creator and The Many Saints of Newark co-screenwriter,  David Chase, was chasing the feel of the East Side Kids. Old Bowery Boys movies were aired weekly in the New York/New Jersey area when Tony was growing up, and all those movies were made by the icon of B-Movie studios, Monogram Pictures.

Monogram Pictures sat on Hollywood’s “poverty row,” and churned out pictures as fast as Detroit made cars. The Bowery Boys comedy troupe made almost a picture a month alone. But just like the Warner Brothers assembly line occasionally manufactured transcendent art, some of the cheapies are magnificently crafted. Sopranos fans should watch Angels in Disguise, one of the lesser-known gangster comedies, directed by Jean Yarbrough in 1949. It is, if not the first, one of the first mock-documentaries, and it is a good bet David Chase saw it, more than once. Leo Gorcey is even more of a master of the malaprop than Carmine Lupertazzi Jr. (Ray Abruzzo) on The Sopranos.

Monogram Pictures also caught the attention of French directors François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard, who structured films based on their model, according to the book The Films of Jean-Luc Godard by Wheeler W. Dixon. It is no wonder, the studio’s almost-no-budget 1947 quickie Dillinger turned RKO contract player Lawrence Tierney into an icon of film noir. The Fall Guy, from the same year, dared to coke up the star Leonard Penn, and we’re not talking soda pop.

Also in 1947, 20th Century Fox’s low budget Kiss of Death introduced the screen audiences to the sadistic Tommy Udo. The role earned Richard Widmark an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, and the admiration of “Crazy” Joe Gallo, whose insurrection against the Five Families of New York crime was the basis for Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather.

Low budget studio production paved the way for the independent film movement in America, which The Many Saints of Newark proudly emulates. Director Alan Taylor recently admitted to Den of Geek that he’s “drunk deep at the well of Scorsese,” and we can see Mean Streets all over the Sopranos prequel. Also in evidence is Barry Shear’s Across 110th Street (1972), which pitted the Italian mob against Black gangsters; John Cassavetes’s 1976 indie classic, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie; The Pope of Greenwich Village (1984), directed by Stuart Rosenberg; and Abel Ferraro’s King of New York (1990).

The Many Saints of Newark is also too closely related to Wim Wenders’ 1977 gangster film, The American Friend, which cut corners on plot points as much as it did on budget. Logic is replaced by street smarts, and continuity is a game of three card monte in B-movie gangster films. The Many Saints of Newark is not exempt. There is a scene where one mobster’s mistress is sleeping with the rival for his turf. Except for one rude stare, the audience doesn’t see it coming. But how it turns out, with the convenient surf and turf to cover the evidence, is telegraphed from a mile away.

Read more

Movies

Once Upon a Time in America Is Every Bit as Great a Gangster Movie as The Godfather

By Tony Sokol

Culture

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Real-Life and Pop Culture

By Tony Sokol

Arthur Penn’s genre-redefining Bonnie and Clyde came out in 1967, the same year as The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Roger Corman spared every expense for his B-movie mobsterpiece. There are scenes where it is visibly apparent that a fleet of vintage background cars are just the same few automobiles driven in circles around the set. I’ve seen both movies multiple times, and enjoy them equally each time.

Just because The Many Saints of Newark isn’t a perfect film does not make it less of a classic. It certainly doesn’t make it less appealing for repeated viewings. The film follows a grand tradition of gangster filmmaking: street legal over mainstream currency, it could have fallen off the back of a truck. I would love to see whatever scenes were cut to make it fit into a two-hour viewing, because the film felt rushed. But I will watch it again.

The Many Saints of Newark premieres in theaters and on HBO Max on Friday, Oct. 1.

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[flashbackharry]

Prompt #74

“you’re my sanity”

Recommended song:

“Our way to fall” by Yo La Tengo.

Trigger Warning: Addiction

You weren't entirely sure where the buzzing sound came from. You had thought someone was knocking on the door but it didn’t quite sound like it. You adjusted yourself on the mattress before sitting up and realizing it was your phone. You had recently got into the habit of turning your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ cause you were having trouble sleeping lately and your phone was certainly a big distraction. It was moments like these that having your phone on “Do Not Disturb’ was a bad idea.

You picked up your phone which was lying underneath your pillow, the glare from your screen causing you to squint. You saw you had 9 miscalls from Harry and 3 miscalls from Mitch. Your heart sped up and your mind went to the worst case scenario. It was a little past 2am and Harry had sent you a text right before you went to bed saying he was going to be staying a little late at the studio. You didn't mind, writing music was definitely a long tedious process and you couldn't really control what times he got inspired to write and record, so you understood it was a very arbitrary process. You decided to call Harry back first. It rang twice before going to voicemail. You tried again and the same thing happened. You swore under your breath while calling mitch.

“Heyyyyy” He said, sounding very drunk.

“Hey Mitch what's going on? Is everything alright?” You said, your voice hushed and worried. Your voice still raspy from sleep.

“Everythings great Y/n, just peachy actually.” Mitch was a very serious guy and didn’t talk much, he especially didn’t randomly call you so he most likely had to be under some sort of influence.

“Mitch, where is Harry?”

“Ohhhh, Harry, that's why I called you. His phone died but he's like totally freaking out right now, asking if you could pick him up.”

“What? Why? What happened Mitch?” You asked. Your anxiety growing fuller by the second.

“We might have tried some acid. Yeah he was like fine the first couple hours then he stopped talking and next thing you know he's like crying in the corner, now he's just sitting, kinda silent.” Mitch said, his words slurred and you couldn't hear most of what he was saying cause the background was so loud. Your heart sank once you heard he was experimenting with drugs. This was not like Harry and especially considering everything he knows about your past concerning drugs, a small part of you was angry and confused.

“I’m on my way Mitch.” and with that you hung up. Putting on a pair of sweats and one of Harry's hoodies.

You grabbed your phone and car keys and left your apartment. On the way there, your mind couldn't help but wonder towards all the awful things that could've happened. You lost your brother about 3 years ago, he struggled on and off with addiction. When you found out about his death, you and Harry were only friends. He drove you to the hospital, consoled you while you wept. Sat in his car with you for about an hour in silence while you hesitated going into your empty apartment.

You were only friends then but when Harry offered to sleep over you nodded your head before he even finished his sentence. You slept in the same bed and he held you until you fell asleep. Nothing sexaul, but it definitely was a transformative moment in your friendship. A moment that made you both realize you couldn't not be in each other's lives. You made him swear that night he would never get into drugs ever. He shifted in the sheets, turned the lamp on beside your bed and made you look up at him as he promised you he never would.

Fast forward to now, you were on your way to pick up your boyfriend who was having a bad trip at two am. Before you realized it you were crying, the street lights were turning into a blurry haze. The studio was relatively close to you and Harrys flat, so you got there in about 7 minutes, also because it was 2am so no one was on the roads. There weren't many people there, it probably just sounded like there was on the phone call with Mitch because of the loud music. Excluding Harry, it was just Mitch and Sarah there really. Everyone else must have left.

“Oh heyyy Y/n is here” Mitch called from the couch where he sat with Sarah.

You found Harry crouched down on the floor. He had a pair of headphones in and he looked...awful. His eyes were red and drooping. There was a thin line of sweat on his upper lip, his entire face was flushed. You crouched down in front of him and took his headphones off. He got startled before meeting your eyes and calming down.

“It's me honey.” You said, swinging his arm around your neck before trying to lift him gradually off the floor.

“Are we going home?” He asked you, his words low and slurred.

“Yeah, we're going home bub.” You whispered in his ear.

With Harry on your side you stumbled out the studio doors, bearing most of Harry's weight.

You opened the backseat of your car and buckled Harry in. You took his face in your hands once you were done buckling him in, his eyes looked exhausted.

“How do you feel?” You asked him.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his eyes watering up. Your heart hurt a little as he said that. You didn't quite know what to say. Obviously he knew the extent of his actions, he knew he hurt you tonight. But yet you still couldn't say anything. This was a conversation you had to have in the morning. You kissed him on the cheek and closed the car door, walking over to the driver's seat and driving home.

The whole ride home you kept stealing glances at him through the rear view mirror. Making sure he was still breathing. He seemed to be dozing off. You pulled into your driveway. Getting out of the driver's seat and walking over to Harry in the backseat.

You opened his door and unbuckled him, you heard soft snores escape him.

“Hey bub, we're home.” You whispered, shaking his shoulder a little bit to get him to open his eyes.

Once you made it inside you helped him strip his clothes off, putting a clean t-shirt on him and giving him a pair of sweats to sleep in. You went downstairs and filled a glass of water up, as well as grabbing two tabs of tylenol for the headache he was bound to get. When you made it back upstairs, Harry was already in bed, the covers up to his neck.

“Here, drink this.” You said sitting on the bed and handing him the glass of water and a one of the tabs of tylenol. He gently took it from you and downed the entire glass in about 3 seconds. Swallowing the tablet after.

You took the glass from him once he was done.

He held onto your hand for a little longer and that made you meet his gaze. He had sad eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad Harry, I’m just a little disappointed. Don’t worry about it right now though. Cmon, let's go to bed.” You said, pulling the sheets back and sliding in. You turned the lamp off and you felt Harry slide an arm around your waist. You fell asleep easily, your entire body aching. Your thoughts didn't stop, even when you were asleep. Your mind kept returning to all the possible outcomes of tonight, all the bad ones mostly. You knew getting a little high for creative inspo, especially when it concerns the making of music was not a new thing. All the great artists have done it. It was the stars who used even while not making music that stuck with you.

Sure it was just acid now, but it was also just a little weed and alcohol for your brother in the beginning as well and look where he ended up.You feared seeing “Harry Styles:Dead at 26” on the front page. Your heart clenched at the thought of it. Memories of your brother came flooding. You didn’t want the same circumstances happening to the love of your life as well. Tears soaked your pillow. Harry pulled you to his chest, catching you off guard. You took a deep breath, jolting awake and found you were crying even harder now.

“You promised...you promised..” You said, clenching fistfuls of his shirt in your hands.

“I know, I know I’m so sorry.” Harry cooed into your ear as he rubbed circles on your back.

***

Morning: Harry's Pov:

When Harry woke up the next morning, he felt two things. A pounding fucking headache. And a dull ache in his chest. He woke up to see the love of his life peacefully sleeping beside him. Memories of the previous night flooded his mind and he was reminded of how major he fucked up. He watched as she breathed in and out, soft snores escaping her. Her eyes were puffy and a little red from all the crying. It hurt him so much knowing how deeply he hurt her. He planted a kiss to her temple before slowly getting out of bed. He hopped in the shower, wanting so badly to turn back the hands of time. He knew last night she was thinking of her brother, of the promise she made him make 3 years ago.

Once he was out of the shower, he went back to change into some actual clothes and found she wasn't in bed. He went down stairs and found she was brewing a cup of coffee. There was some cut up fruit on the table and some yoghurt with granola. Even when she didn’t have to, when he completely expected her not to, she was still caring for him. His heart swelled, he was completely undeserving. He tried to sneak in without making any noise but as he walked in she was turning towards the door, catching his eye. They made eye contact briefly before she looked away. Ouch.

He didn’t want to say anything at first, wanted to give her time to think, but it took everything in him to not go over there and scoop her up in his arms and apologize 1000 times.

He sat down at the table, as did she. She sipped at her coffee while opening up her journal and began writing. He didn’t even try hiding the fact that he was staring at her from across the table. She was so full of love and light.

Fuck not saying anything.

Harry walked over to her, grabbing her hand, instructing her to stand up. She hesitated first before doing so. They stood in the middle of the kitchen, a few inches apart.

“What are you thinking about right now?” He said, reaching out to grab her hand.

“Honestly? I’m thinking about how my coffee needs a little more sugar.” She said, completely deadpan. Only when Harry chuckled did she give him a small smile. That smile disappeared before she spoke again, this time in a lower, cautious voice.

“I’m thinking you need to realize you aren't doing this alone anymore. That your life isn’t just centered around you, that I would be devastated if anything happened to you.That you are my sanity “

Harry cupped her face. Meeting her eyes.

“I know, I’m sorry I broke your promise. I’m not gonna make excuses for why I did what I did last night, I did it, and I can't change that. I just want you to forgive me.”

She lifted her chin, standing on her tippy toes for a minute to plant a small kiss to his cheek.

“I forgive you Harry.” She whispered. .

Harry wrapped his arms around her. He hurt the one he loves the most and he wouldn’t make that mistake again, a promise he made to himself.

“Might have to have a word with Mitch though.” She said smiling.

A laugh rumbled through Harry's chest.

[50scentsofsoap]

Cinema

It’s always a treat being able to go to the movies with your pal Jungkook

word count: 1.9k genre:  fluff

author’s note: A little idea about some platonic friendship, because you can truly love your friend without feeling any romantic attachments to them.

music: Apollo - The Lost Twenties

“That’s 35,450 won please,” the cashier said in her customer voice. Funny how people's voices change so drastically depending on who they're around. I can tell her real voice is a lower pitch than the one she just used. I tap my phone on the machine reader whilst the device scans my fingerprint. God bless contactless payment.

The cashier hands me a large bucket of popcorn, a cup holder with 2 sodas and a packet of kitkats. “Enjoy the movie!” Her voice was a bit too enthusiastic, either she's new or she hates her job. “Thanks,” I reply with half as much gusto. 

I sit on the sofa that's nearest the entrance to the cinema and check my phone. My lock screen shows nothing new, so I turn my data on to check for any online updates. Again, nothing new. I turn my data off and open up my messages, when I feel a chill creep in from the entrance. From my peripheral vision, I can see that this breeze was accompanied by the person I was expecting. Even with his low beanie and black face mask, his posture immediately reveals who he was. 

“I thought you'd stand me up again,” I note, my voice an octave lower than normal. I can see he's cocked his head towards my voice, his eyebrows raised as if he's surprised. His eyes were big and brown, but I could see the faint red veins and drooping eyelids.

“You look like crap, when was the last time you slept?”

“Um… yesterday?”

“Jungkook, you didn't have to come if you were tired. We can watch the Avengers film later when you're feeling up to it.”

“No, I want to watch it today. I won't have any time other than tonight, besides I'd promised to watch a film with you.”

He was right. Jungkook was always so busy, even finding a slot in his schedule to meet up for coffee near impossible. He's here now, and if he says he wants to watch the movie, we'll watch the movie.

“Fine, but if you fall asleep, you're paying me back for your ticket!” I get up and shove the food into his arms.

“So,” Jungkook begins as he stuffs some popcorn into his mouth, “what's the plot so far with this film?”

I'm putting in my reservation code at the online booking kiosk. “Well…” I explain the storyline as I open up my Android Pay app, “so they all hate each other but not really. Why did you ask about the story, haven't you seen Civil War?”

“No.”

My thumb is hovering over my phone's home button, millimeters away from authorizing the payment of 2 adult cinema tickets. I close the app and cancel my reservation. Jungkook is about to ask what I was doing.

“Change of plans,” I say with a strong voice, cutting him off completely, “when do I have to drop you off by?”

“Um… I told Jin Hyung I'd be home for dinner”

I glance at my phone's screen, 16:56. He ate dinner quite late, around 9 o'clock. A sneaky idea started to form in my mind.

“Tell Kim Seokjin-ssi that you're having dinner with me and I'll drop you off by 10pm.” I take the sodas and kitkats from him, and motioned him to follow me. I start walking briskly to my car, in an attempt to somehow warm up in this winter weather. I can hear soft thuds behind me, obviously he's wearing Timberlands. I reach for my keys when I'm close, when another thought strikes me.

“Jungkook-ssi when was the last time you drove a car?” I get my keys out and unlock the car.

“I haven't really driven a car since I got my license,” he looked so shy and adorable. “Jin-hyung let me drive the car to the studio a couple of times but that's only a 5 minute drive.”

“Well,” I start while putting the keys back into my pocket, “then you can definitely drive for 2 minutes using navigation right?”

“Yeah, but why?”

I walk to the passenger side and open the door with my free hand. “Jungkook-ssi you'll be driving to my apartment.” I slide inside and close the door next to me. I put the sodas in the cup holders next to me and open the kitkat packet. “Aren't you going to get in?” I ask with a stern voice. While I'm focused on my kitkat piece, I hear the driver side door open. I take the popcorn from Jungkook while he slides into the seat. The seat is too forward for him, so he moves it backwards and adjusts the rear view mirror to his height. The sat nav on my dash showed the approximate time it would take to get to mine, and calculated the most appropriate route to avoid the heavy parts of traffic. An easy 10 minutes route.

“Are you going to be ok driving?” I ask him. I did pretty much thrust the task of driving onto him out of nowhere. I was never this spontaneous, I always stuck to a plan.

“I'll be just fine.” He took off his mask and beanie, Lord I'd forgotten how good he looked. He presses the engine on button and the car roars into life. He starts slowly peeling away from the parked space and onto the main road.

Looking at him now, I still can’t believe it’s been all these years since we became friends. It’s so weird how we just ended up talking about G Dragon at a random cafe, only because my crappy headphones were bleeding out Niliria. Well, also because I was killing the rap on Missy’s part. Oh, how much we’ve both grown since that fateful event. He’s successful in his idol group and I’m the head at this small, private tech firm. He grew like bamboo while I got stuck at 163cm. Life was good, and I was grateful for every minute of time on this Earth.

“Ah, Y/N-ssi? Where do I park?”

I had gotten so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even realise when he’d driven to my apartment’s underground parking. The ride was so smooth… Jungkook-ssi can really drive well.

“Um… number 78, 3rd floor parking.” I watch him, curious. I pay attention to his hand movements as he turns the steering wheel. His hands. Damn. His fingernails were well trimmed and cuticles groomed. I’m pretty sure he’s been using Jin’s hand cream again. I see my number ahead and point it out to him. The car pulls up to the spot, and Jungkook parks it without a hitch. Hmm, he parks better than me. I take the sodas and popcorn in my hand and exit the car, the remaining pieces of the kitkat are tucked away in my pocket. I walk over to the driver side, where I see Jungkook-ssi come out. I hand him back the popcorn and lock the car.

“We have to take the elevator now to my apartment,” I explain to him. “Your beanie and mask are in my car, remember to take them with you when I drop you off!”

Jungkook just looks at the ground and smiles. “Yes, noona!”

I roll my eyes at his response and head to the elevators. Soft thuds behind me again, goddamn his Timberlands, he sounds like a puppy tapping the floor every time he follows me. “What do you want to eat?” I ask as we step inside.

“You pick.”

“Pizza?”

“I ate pizza for lunch.”

“Fried chicken?”

“I'm trying to avoid deep fried food.”

“Curry?”

“No…”

“Jesus you're so picky!” I exclaim as we exit the elevator, “Will you be ok eating roast lamb?”

“Yes that's fine.”

I walk towards my door and punch in my lock code. I let him enter first, then follow. 

“Wow, your apartment is quite big, and clean!” Jungkook said while looking towards my living room.

Damn, I should’ve cleaned up. My half eaten lunch is still on the breakfast counter, the laundry is drying on the radiator in the corner, and my laptop is still playing YouTube videos on autoplay. Shit. I was watching BTS crack videos before I left for the cinema. I put the sodas on my kitchen counter and sprint to the laptop. Fire had just started to play when I close my laptop lid.

“Wow, I thought you didn't listen to our songs!” 

“Well, I wanted to get myself up to date on your music.”

“Sure thing,” he took his shoes off and made his way to the couch. I walk over to him and airplay Civil War from my tablet.

I get my blanket from the closet and drape it over him, although he's still got his oversized coat on. I can hear him shuffling his coat open when I make my way to the fridge. I take out the marinated lamb leg and put it in the oven to roast, with a timer set for an hour later, that's when I have to put the potatoes on boil. 

As I walk back to the couch, I hear the faint crunching of popcorn. “Jungkook-ssi,” I start. Damn. Both his cheeks are stuffed with popcorn, and he's all wrapped up in my blanket, he looks like ET. Adorable child. “I'm just going to get changed into something more comfortable, if you need anything just knock.”

I swiftly make my way to my bedroom and get out of my winter wear. I slip into my soft pink oversized pyjamas and head back to the living room.

He's glaring at me as if there's a ghost behind me. Not to mention, he's red as a tomato. Jesus, what happened while I was gone for 5 minutes?

Did he break my tv? Did he spoil my lamb? Oh my god, did he open my laptop and look at my search history?

I'm worried so I just blurt out, “Jungkook-ssi did you do something?” He just shakes his head and tries to focus on the film again. I ask again, more stern this time, “Jeon Jungkook, if you have something to say… spit it out.”

“Well… uh,” his tone is shaky “you invited me to your place for dinner, and when you said you're gonna wear something more comfortable… I thought you were trying to seduce me. I know it's a crazy thought…” he rambles on further about how ridiculous he is to even think of that but I just let out a relieved sigh.

Is this boy attentive or just plain stupid? Either way, it was adorable how flustered he got. I joined him on the couch. “Jungkook-ssi you're not my type. Simple as that. Besides, it's way more fun with you being my friend, you're like a little brother to me,” with that I pat his head before snuggling up to the other side of the sofa, where there was more leg room.

“Oh yeah, by the way, are you older than me or not?” He asks.

“Hmmm... I'm not telling you that, but please keep calling me noona, it's quite cute.”

“Ok but it's awkward if you're younger than me.”

“Well then, would you rather I called you oppa?” I raise one eyebrow at him in a questioning manner. 

Silence. He focuses back on the movie again.

Truthfully, I'm younger than him but only by a few days. He hates being called oppa unnecessarily, so I just avoid it. It's quite weird actually, now that I think about it.

We're both invested in the movie right up to the heart wrenching climax. I put on ‘Saw’ straight away, because I'm in the mood for some horror, and I'm curious to see how much gore the boy can take. 

BRRRRRRR

Shit, the lamb!

[stella-monstrum]

Rob Zombie; "Why it's time to step outside the confinements of his own box."

For close to four decades,

 Rob Zombie has brought nonstop psychedelic grooves and a rockstar presence while gracing his own music and the silver screen with gut-churning, drug-tripping visuals. He not only commands quite the presence in films (whether his own successes or others’), but also makes appearances within many other horror soundtracks. There’s no denying that Zombie is a bloodied savant who has stayed incredibly consistent. 

[ᴿᵒᵇ ᶻᵒᵐᵇᶦᵉ. ⁽ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ: ᴳᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ ᴵᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ⁾]

(Written by Stella, edited by Jacob J.)

(Side note; tumblr’s photo formatting is a pain)

Let’s take a dive into his music before getting into his film library. From 1985-1997, White Zombie released six albums (between studio and compilations). La Sexorcisto: Devil Music Volume One didn’t break into the Billboard 200 chart until a year after its 1992 release. Shortly thereafter, it became the hot and groovy bong success of the band, going on to sell two million copies. Astro Creep 2000, their final and fourth studio release, was their first and only album to chart within the Top 10 of the Billboard 200 in 1995. Up to this day in 2020, “White Zombie” has been featured in 47 TV, film, and video game soundtracks, from Beavis & Butthead to Pen15 to Bride Of Chucky (which includes a personal favorite moment of mine), amongst many others.

After the disbandment and separation, Zombie continued on his solo journey. He has gone on to release six studio albums, with a seventh on the way in March 2021, titled The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy. A multitude of hits—eight to be exact—sat within the Top 10 of the Billboard 200 records. 

══════════════════

Zombie’s extensive film career is a “Super Beast” on its own. 

He has been very vocal about gaining inspiration from 1920s-1980s horror culture. In many interviews, he’s cited Stan Lee, Bella Lugosi, Alice Cooper, and Steven Speilberg as being responsible for molding the brain that we know today. 

Some of his influences include:

George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1978)

A Clockwork Orange (1971)

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) 

The Shining (1980)

Zombie’s upbringing in the carnival industry alongside his family is another key influence.

[[I’ll only be focusing on Zombie’s live-action films here.]]

══════════════════

In 2000, Rob made his directorial and (very memorable) screen debut with House Of 1000 Corpses. 

It took three years to be released because of quarrels with major production companies regarding the film’s majorly aggressive themes of torture, blood, violence, sex—not to mention his arrogance with MGM, fighting to get rights back from Universal. Eventually, Lionsgate bit the bullet, albeit with the major stipulation of having Rob edit it down much further so House could pass with a “tame” R rating. 

[[House of 1000 Corpses: Rainn Wilson as taxidermy merman (Source: Tumblr—and if you’re brave, you can view the scene here.)]]

══════════════════

In 2005 and 2019, the franchise’s next two installments—Devil’s Rejects and 3 From Hell—were released. The franchise is heavily influenced by the shocking, sickening, and unforgettable ’70s classic Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It follows a family of psychotic, sadistic, and bloodthirsty (if I’m being honest) necrophiliacs. They kidnap, kill, torture and brutalize anyone who gets in their way. At the end of Devil’s Rejects, they somehow manage to survive a police shootout, escape prison, and waltz on into Mexico (as seen in the franchise finale 3 from Hell).

Look, it’s all complicated.

Main Characters from the franchise:

Captain Spaulding—Sid Haig

Baby Firefly—Sheri Moon Zombie

Otis B. Driftwood—Bill Moseley 

Momma Firefly—Karen Black (recast as Leslie Easterbrook after Karen’s passing)

(Other notable appearances throughout: Chris Hardwick, Rainn Wilson, Danny Trejo, Dee Wallace, Ken Foree, and Diamond Dallas Page.)

⁽“ʰᵒᵘˢᵉˢ ᵗʳⁱˡᵒᵍʸ”, ᵈᵛᵈ ˢᵉᵗ﹔ ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹔ ᵗᵃʳᵍᵉᵗ.ᶜᵒᵐ⁾

══════════════════

The notorious/controversial Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978) remakes from 2007 and 2009.

(ᵃ ᵛⁱᵉʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ⁽ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹕ ᵃᵐᵃᶻᵒⁿ⁾)

Look, this is a remake that you either adore or hate with a burning passion. If you’re a horror fanatic, you know what’s up with the original.

I personally adore Zombie’s take. The fact alone that he gave us an entire background story as to why Michael became the psychotic slasher that we’ve come to know and love. Plus, with an increased suspense and gore factor? Worked incredibly well and did justice (in my opinion).

The film made me feel bad for Michael, with moments of child Myers in therapy, particularly his love for making masks to pass the time while he was locked up and the touching family moments between him and his mother Deborah (Sheri Moon).

ᵈᵉᵇᵒʳᵃʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐⁱᶜʰᵃᵉˡ ᵐᵉʸᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿ ʲᵃⁱˡ ᵗʰᵉʳᵃᵖʸ. ⁽ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿᶜᵃᵖ, ʰᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵉⁿ. ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹕ ᵍᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ⁾

[Michael’s cell in the 2007 Halloween remake. (Source: Google)]

Add in the supporting cast of Michael McDowell (Loomis), Brad Douriff (Sheriff Leigh), Scout Taylor-Compton (Laurie Strode), etc., and I honestly think that it came together very well as a remake.

The films rated relatively low, but they did gross higher than the budgets that they originally had to film on. Again, I’m not going to give much attention to the higher-ups of critical perception—it all comes down to personal taste.

══════════════════

“Lords of Salem” (2013) 

[[Promotional art for Lords of Salem. (Souce: Google Images)]]

A film that’s centered within Salem, Massachusetts, 

this film—you guessed it—tackles witches, occultism, possession, Satan, and all the usual topics. Heidi (Sherri Moon) is a radio DJ who gets sent a mysterious record that’s labeled as being from “The Lords.” From then on out, shit gets a little dicey and admittedly, very disjointed. You can’t fault the cast here, and I loved the visuals that they were going for. However, with set schedule conflicts and multiple rewrites, which led to essentially running out of time to film? As a whole, what looked great on paper just couldn’t be done justice.

My FAVORITE sequence within the film (SPOILERS): 

I can forgive the disjointedness solely because of how mind-boggling and brilliant the film’s history and proper visuals were. Also, we got to see Dee Wallace, Judy Geeson, and Patricia Quinn as creepy and badass witches who moonlight as Heidi’s landlords. Also Meg Foster who leads their coven? Can we talk about what a femme-fueled power cast that is?!

[[Left to right: Patricia Quinn as Megan, Dee Wallace as Sonny, and Judy Geeson as Lacy Doyle. (Screencap, Lords of Salem. Source: Google) ]]

[[Meg Foster as coven leader Margaret Morgan. (Screencap, Lords of Salem. Source; google)]]

Like I said prior, the film gets a little wild. If you’re...well, buzzed prior to watching, it may make a little more sense. 

══════════════════

“31” (2016)

[[Film poster for 31 (Source: Google)]]

[Synopsis from IMDB; “Five carnival workers are kidnapped and held hostage in an abandoned, hellish compound where they are forced to participate in a violent game, the goal of which is to survive twelve hours against a gang of sadistic clowns.”]

Here, we clearly see that Zombie is invoking his childhood growing up within carnivals. In a 2013 interview with LA Weekly, Zombie divulged more about it:

“When we were kids, my parents would [work at the carnivals], and me and my brother would get dragged along to these things all the time and have to work.”

He went further on to say;

 “Yeah, and it's not the nicest world. As a kid, you get exposed to the crazier underworld of the carnival. Me and my brother, when we were very little, we'd be inside the haunted house playing all day. So, already, what people are paying money to be scared [of], we're just playing in because it's fun. We saw the inner workings behind the machines.”

(”31″ trailer, source; Youtube)

Once again in this film, Zombie brings a powerhouse cast:

Jeff Daniel Phillips as Roscoe Pepper

Meg Foster as Venus Virgo

Malcom McDowell as Father Murder

Judy Geeson as Sister Dragon

Richard Brake as Doom Head

You can view the entire cast at IMDB here.

Set in 1976, Zombie stays true to his nods. Again, depending on taste, this is a huge hit or a wild miss with mindless homicidal violence, campiness, and climbs across the monkey bar of standards that we’re used to seeing from him.

══════════════════

So at this point, you’re probably wondering why I think that it’s time for Rob Zombie to step out of the confinements of his own box...

══════════════════

It’s no secret that Zombie sticks to only a small group of tropes: 

Slashers, families or groups of homicidals that lack remorse, the occult, etc. There’s no shame in sticking to what you know. Hell, Zombie has seemingly cracked the code over the past two decades that he’s been in the film industry that so many directors still don’t seem to get.

IMO, despite whatever you personally feel about the films mentioned above- I feel like we’re living a freaky groundhog day repeat within Zombie’s filmography. 

══════════════════

Now, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? Look, I’m not saying that Zombie has to change anything. However, I would love to see him tackle some other nuances that we’ve already seen from him in small doses.

- Children: We haven’t seen Zombie exactly take on what horror films depict kids as. Sure, he made a breakout and impeccable choice with young Michael Myers (Daeg Faerch) back in 2007. I personally would adore to see a reimagined (NOT remade) Children of the Corn on acid, one we all know Zombie can tackle and turn every existing view on its head.

- Witchcraft, The Occult, Satan, Voodoo:  Zombie genuinely had a phenomenal concept (on paper) for 2012’s Lords of Salem. It was unfortunate that they ran out of resources and ran into unfortunate circumstances on set while filming. 

The film wasn’t a total tank, though, given how inspiring and insane all the visuals were throughout the 1 hr, 41min film. I am absolutely positive that, given a full-force opportunity, Rob could rectify the mess that was out of his control. We completely saw that he provided visuals that left quite the impression, and he could take those taboo subjects by the goat horns.

- Animals (not the human form): It’s no secret that Rob and his wife Sherri are ethical vegetarians. It would be so tongue and cheek to see them take on such topics as animals getting their revenge, or even vegetarians torturing carnivores. This twist on the formula would make for an interesting viewing.

══════════════════

2.) In regard to time periods, 

Zombie stays within—and pays homage to—the 1970s and 1980s quite a bit. Obviously, those are the eras that Zombie personally loves the most when it comes to filmmaking. However, it would be very interesting to see him take on current day settings. 

Zombie has such a unique viewpoint. Given changing climates in politics, human decline/growth, the economy, etc., he would do work that could easily put Ryan Murphy to shame.

══════════════════

3.) He could also do with some different casting every now and then.

Let me preface this by saying that I adore every repeat casting choice that Zombie has made for his films. 

Of course chemistry is a huge thing, and sticking to his friends is a very smart choice. However, he also has the potential to make new stars, boosting the power of those that may be under the radar. He can support those new stars with cameos from classic actors that we haven’t seen in awhile. I can’t begin to even fictionally cast those who fit the bill, but I do believe that with the “Zombie Touch,” he can bring so much more fresh air to the usual casting.

══════════════════

There’s no doubting what Rob Zombie is clearly very good at. Despite mixed reviews from the horror world and critics, it’s time that his fans open their eyes to new possibilities. Of course, there are die-hards, but digging your feet in further doesn’t allow the growth of horror and its ever evolving themes.

[[ʳᵒᵇ ᶻᵒᵐᵇⁱᵉ, ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹔ ᵍᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ]]

This theory has been on my mind for a very long time—since 3 from Hell came out. I’m sure, in his usual fashion, we won’t be seeing any new films from Rob anytime soon (what with his new album set to release in March 2021, not to mention the toll that the pandemic has had on Hollywood.)

Still, it never hurts to challenge the set standards and ways.

[antagonisms]

a self-para, and parting gift, for my second-favourite korean 

trigger warnings for: allusions to domestic and child abuse

general warnings for: evan being a dick

i.

“This is her, right?”

Evan’s gaze flits to Connor’s phone screen. There’s a photo of a woman sitting cross legged on a piano stool, back turned against the keys.

“Yeah,” Evan tells him. “That’s my mom.”

“You look alike,” Connor says.

Evan laughs. “I know.” And it’s a nice thing, half the time, that he can look at the mirror and not see Rina’s husband instead. Lord knows he doesn’t want to be reminded of a pain that’s been buried. Still, there’s some pain seeing Rina’s face reflected, too — when the distance between past and present elongates, even the best memories turn bitter.

This is what they discovered about Rina Watanabe: She abandoned her ex-husband’s surname. She runs a semi-popular music store slash studio and still teaches basic piano to little kids. She abandoned the rolling mountains of Blackrock for the sepia-toned city of Cheyenne, Wyoming, which is apparently a real place that people live in and not just a state Eisenhower invented to add more stars to the flag. It’s also nine hours away from Montana by bus. 

This is what Evan discovered about Connor Park: He cares enough to take him there. 

He also knows Evan well enough to offer the window seat. Knows Evan well enough to inch away even if the seats are small and the bus is already pretty cramped. He knows Evan well enough not to say anything when Evan’s eyes, still lingering on his mother’s photo, turn downcast with the rest of his expression.

Of course, he reminds himself, Connor’s been through the same shit, so he has the decency not to pity him.  

The rest of the bus ride is quiet. Behind the window, Wyoming’s rolling fields blur into long yellow lines. The mountains get smaller and bluer with distance. Connor’s listening to music on his phone. His fists are balled into his lap, and his expression is tight in a way that makes Evan suspect that he’s less focused on whatever he’s listening and more focused on a question running through his mind, like he wants to ask Evan something but doesn’t know where to start.

Evan realizes he wants to ask Connor things too. Wants to keep his mind away from his absent mother and the hole she left — wants to ask about the similar-shaped hole Connor might have, what’s the system like, do you remember your mom, how long have you and your brother been fighting, do you remember being a kid?

Instead he taps at his ear, gestures for Connor to pull an earphone out. When Connor does, Evan asks, “What are you listening to?”

Connor hands over the other earphone. “Do you wanna hear it?”

Evan takes it. It’s a Frank Ocean song, likely from Evan’s lost years, because it’s not anything he’s heard before. Still, the mellowness is familiar enough that a wave of wistfulness settles on his chest. There’s nothing out the window but vast space, so Evan looks at Connor, and right on that beat Frank Ocean croons, it’s quite alright to hate me now. 

Maybe all Connor wants is for Evan to have the closure he and Noah never got. It’s too late to tell him that it’s not worth the effort — Evan’s not worth the effort — and what kind of person does this, anyway? What kind of person exhausts themselves to make sure another person doesn’t feel the pain that they’d felt? Evan furrows his brows. He imagines Connor, five years old, sat on a swing set waiting for a mother that wouldn’t come back. He imagines himself, twelve years old, staring at a window and waiting for a car that would never return.

The same story, different endings. Evan gets his heart broken and keeps the pieces to himself. Connor gets his heart broken and offers the pieces to other people. The comparison fucking stings. For a fleeting moment, he considers berating himself for being so goddamn selfish, but then he tells himself that, you know what, maybe it was neither of their fucking faults. There are versions of themselves that could have been kinder had they simply been afforded the privilege of being loved. A version of Evan where he isn’t too guarded. A version of Connor where he isn’t too insecure.

He imagines them then, as children, their hearts full and whole and unbroken. Evan’s much taller at six years old than Connor is at five, so when Connor sits at the swings his legs are still too short to kick himself up high enough. It’s the make-believe Evan that stands behind the swing, grabs it by the chains, and pulls. When he lets go, Connor soars.

Right on time, Frank Ocean sings, we’ll never be those kids again. 

ii. 

In the music store in Wyoming, there’s a small child. Her face looks like Evan’s. A near splitting image of his eight-year-old self. Evan watches her run up to the woman leaning by the cash register, gives her a kiss on the cheek and says, I’ll see you at home, Mom. 

Then his eyes find the woman at the counter. Evan knows that posture. Relaxed shoulders, elbows propped on a surface behind her, back leaning, entirely graceless and casual. She waves goodbye to her child as her mouth splits into a smile, a fondness Evan doesn’t realize is familiar until his heart sinks to his chest.

Mom.

Evan takes a breath. 

Connor faces him. Evan can feel the concern in his eyes even without looking. “You don’t have to do this now,” he says, and he’s right, because they’re both still exhausted from the bus ride. “There’s still time tomorrow.”

Evan shakes his head. “I’m good.”

Hands slide into his pockets. He doesn’t break his gaze from the woman, who has yet to notice him, too busy throwing her head back in laughter as she gets lost in her conversation with the man at the counter. She looks happy. Happier than she ever was at home. If any painful feeling arises from that, Evan keeps it buried.

He drags his feet toward her. His heart feels heavy. This is a bad idea, he thinks, but he doesn’t stop walking until Rina turns her head and stops at the sight of him.

Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens, then closed. She looks at him the same way most people in Blackrock do, at least after the lost years. Like the can’t tell if the man they’re looking at is anything more than a ghost.

Evan wills himself to smile at her. “Hey.”

She smiles back, startled and painfully forced. “Can I help you?”

“Mom.” His voice drifts with the softest sort of desperation. “It’s me.” 

She blinks. Her gaze won’t meet his. There’s shame evident in her eyes — which, if he were crueler, might make him feel better about all this, but now all it does is stab a knifelike pain through his chest. 

Her lips press into a thin line. If he remembers her correctly — and he probably doesn’t — it means she’s fumbling her mind for words. Her eyes finally meet his, and when her mouth opens, the words are slow to come out. 

“Do you,” she asks, “want to talk outside?”

Now, it’s Evan’s turns to pause. “Sure.”

Connor’s standing by one of the drum sets, one finger tracing the circumference of a cymbal. He stops when he catches Evan’s gaze. Evan mouths, I’ll be right back and waits for Connor’s nod before following Rina out the door.

Outside, Rina fishes a pack of Marlboros from her pocket. She leans against the wall and plucks a light out of the box. Head turning to him, she says, “Do you smoke?”

Evan purses his lip. “Kind of.”

She hands him the cigarette in her hand and picks out another for herself. It’s silent, mostly, when she takes out her lighter and sets the tail end aflame. Evan doesn’t ask her to light his. It seems that she, too, forgets to offer.

She takes a drag. A long one. Only when she huffs the smoke out does she face him again. “You’ve grown.”

“I mean,” Evan says. “It’s been a while.”

Rina sighs. Evan can’t tell where the frustration is directed: herself, or him. Her brows crease and form a worry line. “I’m sorry — I just. I thought you were—”

Evan cuts her off. “I’m here now. The girl in the store earlier. Is she your—”

“She’s my daughter.” Even if guilt drips through her voice, the words are a gut punch.

He’s been playing the same made up story in his head since he was twelve. Sometimes she comes up in his dreams. It starts without awkwardness. They speak about everything and nothing until the conversation’s strong enough to carry the heavy shit — the questions he couldn’t ask and the answers she failed to give. At twenty-seven, his mind rewrites the story. First, she’ll asks, where have you been, and whatever flippant excuse he might give for his disappearance won’t matter, because she’ll throw her arms around him and say that she missed him, say that she’s sorry she ever left him behind.

But she doesn’t ask him where he’s been. She asks, “Why did you come here?”

And here’s where he starts to regret asking for a light. Grief wells at his chest, pushing his heart to his throat. I had some questions I wanted to ask you, he should say, but his impatience gets the best of him, pushing the words out too soon. “Did you—” And he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t ask questions he doesn’t want to know the answers to. “When I disappeared, did you — did you look for me?”

Rina looks down.

She folds her arms. It makes her posture look more closed, like she’s putting space between them. “I tried. I tried very hard, for a year.” Rina wraps her arms tighter around herself. Her head hangs low. “I just — I had my obligations here, so I had to—”

“You gave up hope,” Evan says.

She tilts her head up slightly, to face him. There’s very little resentment in his eyes, but she still seems to shrink under his gaze. “But you’re alright now, aren’t you?”

It’s tempting to snort at that question. Six years, Evan things. Nobody had seen him for six years. “I’m getting by,” he says, voice flat. “Dad’s dead. You probably already knew, though.”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

The laugh he tears out of his throat is small and dark. “Come on. Don’t lie. We both wanted him gone.”

And maybe his expression’s gotten darker, because his mother’s shrinking deeper and deeper inside of herself. “It must have been hard, still.”

“It was harder when he was alive.” Evan steadies his voice. He knows he doesn’t need to say more than this. But the anger wrenches at his chest, and the bitterness leaks through his words. “You know, everything he did to you, he did to me.”

Her face is all heartbreak and shame. Not the strong-willed mother he once knew. Or maybe she was just louder in the house because she needed to be. He used to think neither of them gained anything from living in that shitty manor, but maybe, in the cruelest sense, it was a learning experience. Rina learned to fight back, and when she couldn’t, she learned to run. Evan learned to take a hit.

“I’m sorry.”

Evan scoffs. “I mean, it’s cool.” His voice is a calm and wretched sound. “Did you know bones get stronger after you break them? They have to adapt after the fracture. Become more resilient to stress. I think I feel invincible now. You can put me in Guinness records for world’s best pain tolerance.”

He imagines himself, on a swing set, waiting. Hang on. That’s not right. He imagines himself, at a piano, waiting. He imagines this small girl, at a piano, Rina holding her small hands, guiding her fingers along the keys. He imagines this girl, a bruise on her neck in the shape of a man’s hand. Wait. That isn’t right either.

He imagines himself, twelve years old, sitting shotgun at Rina’s car, watching Montana blur past them. Rina turns the radio up and tells him to sing with her, so he does; he sings and stares at the road ahead and smiles bright even if — or maybe because — he has no idea where they’re headed. He imagines a life where she saves him. He imagines a life where neither of them have to heal.

“I’d understand it,” she finally says. “If you hated me.”

Evan’s face falls. “I never hated you.” He drags a sigh out of his throat. “I just — I don’t know. I guess I just wished you loved me.”

iii.

He’s fine. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like he didn’t expect this. Did he get his hopes up a little? Maybe. But it’s not something he can’t survive. That’s what he’s good at, right? Surviving. He survived broken bones, a broken home, a broken life. He can survive a broken heart.

Connor shuts the door of the motel room and leans against the wall. Good. He knows when to keep his distance. But Connor opens his mouth, because of course he has to say something, and immediately, Evan thinks, this is going to get ugly.

“If you need me—”

Evan says, “I don’t need you.”

“—I’m here.”

This is going to get ugly. 

“Thanks,” Evan says. 

Connor looks so small like this. When Evan meets his eyes, Connor’s gaze flits away. Maybe that pisses him off. Things are fine, right? So Connor should be a better friend and act like things are fucking fine.

But maybe Evan wants Connor to open his mouth again, say something stupid, cross a line. Don’t take it personally. His anger’s just a ticking time bomb and it just so happens that Connor’s within the blast zone. 

“It was hard too. When me and Noah found out that our—”

Evan laughs. “How’s that hard? It’s not like you actually knew her.”

“Our mom,” Connor continues, and Evan can tell that it’s getting harder for him to stop himself from getting angry. “She had a new family, too. I’m just trying to say that I get it.”

Evan’s mouth splits into a wry smile. “Projecting. That’s always fun, isn’t it?”

“Evan,” Connor warns.

“Maybe that’s why you brought me here. Couldn’t fix your fucked family relationships, so maybe fixing mine’s enough of a compensation.” Evan puts a hand on his chest. “Your thoughtfulness knows no bounds. Thank you, Connor.”

Connor narrows his eyes. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze. “You asked me to take you here.” 

“I said thank you, didn’t I? I think it’s real nice of you to keep putting in so much effort as if it’s ever done anyone any good.” Evan’s mouth curls into a sneer. “Persistence. I like that in a man.”

Connor frowns. “I’m gonna take a smoke outside. Don’t talk to me until you’re done throwing a tantrum.”

“Oh, nice.” A wry laugh leaves Evan’s lips. “Connor Park’s walking away from someone. Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

That gets Connor to flinch. 

His eyes meet Evan’s. “Look, I get that you’re hurting, but don’t you dare take it out on me.” A sigh leaves his throat, frustrated. “All I fucking wanted was to do something nice for you.”

“I’m not,” Evan strains to say, “hurting.”

“Like I said.” Connor’s gaze doesn’t break from his. “I get it. I’ve been there.”

“You really think we’re the same, huh?” Evan folds his arms. Under Connor’s stare, his body feels very close to shattering. Still, he keeps his voice tight. “You don’t know me. You don’t know half of what I’ve been through.”

“Can you stop acting like you’re the only person who’s gone through shit?” Connor snaps, with a fire that almost gets Evan to smile. “Look, fine. I don’t know what happened to you. But I know—”

“What do you know?”

“—that you like to lash out when you’re upset.”

“Go on,” Evan says, sharp and venomous. “I’d like to know more.”

There’s a glint of cautiousness in Connor’s eyes. For a fleeting second, Evan expects silence, suspects that Connor is afraid of saying the wrong thing, as he always is. Connor opens his mouth anyway. “You’re pushing me away so you can prove that I don’t really understand you. Because you don’t want to be helped. Because you want to hurt yourself. Or Because—”

Connor pauses. His eyes meet the ground. Evan’s voice goes tight. “Because what, Connor?”

A breath escapes him. Connor finally tears his gaze away. “You don’t want people taking care of you. Because then they’ll have the power to hurt you.”

Jesus. Connor Park is so fucking smart. 

“Or maybe I just don’t want you taking care of me,” Evan snaps. “I’m starting to think that maybe you like that I’m damaged.”

“Why the fuck would I like that?”

Evan started this fight; he’s not about to lose it, not even when his legs feel weak and his heart wants to leap out of his throat. “Why else?” he asks, but it’s not really a question. “Can’t solve your own problems? Why not throw yourself into someone else’s. You think that if you save me you can save yourself from having a nonexistent sense of fucking self-esteem. But guess what? I’m not you fucking project, Connor. So stop trying to fix me because I’m not fucking broken.”

Connor’s face falls. He looks more hurt than angry. “I don’t,” he says, “think you’re broken.”

Evan knees collapse from underneath him. 

His hands ball into fists at his lap. His eyes fall shut when he lowers his head, body keeling forward, mouth falling open as his heart dredges from his throat a scream that comes out soundless. His lip quivers. Small, unwanted dew drops form at the corners of his eyes and spill into the floor.

There are versions of themselves that could have been kinder to one another had their lives been kinder to them. “We deserved better,” he says, because it’s a lot easier to say than I’m sorry. It’s true, anyway. His mind runs through the same sentence, again and again and again — we deserved better. We deserved better. We deserved better. 

Or maybe he’s very close to proving that he’s capable of being crueler than his past. It’s just Connor that deserves better. Deserves more than an absent mother the set of transient homes she’d doomed him to, deserves better than a friend who gives him a verbal beating for — what? Doing exactly what Evan asked?

Guilt, useless and cloying, floods at Evan’s chest, punishing him for wanting comfort. Evan’s never been good at asking for help. Connor’s never been good at giving it, or perhaps that’s because he gives too much — and Evan would like to ask, now, but what right does he have? An apology is owed and he’s too much of a coward to give it. 

Connor still kneels down in front of him. 

Evan holds his head up. Looks at Connor, watches as reluctance and concern flickers in the other’s eyes. Cautious as always. Evan loved and hated that about him. He moves closer, wraps his arms around Evan, pulls him close to his chest. Against his own self-scrutiny, Evan buries his face into the crook of Connor’s neck.

Evan’s shoulders drop down. His breathing remains shaky and jagged, but it slows as Connor’s arms fold around him. His grip tightens, but it doesn’t hurt. That’s funny. 

“If you let me take care of you,” Connor says, “I promise — I am not going to hurt you.”

Evan’s voice goes very quiet. “Don’t let go, then,” 

“Okay,” Connor tells him. “Okay.”

iv.

The bus ride back to Blackrock is mostly quiet. It’s a night ride though, so Evan’s exhausted, and not even Frank Ocean’s crooning can keep him awake. He drifts off, eyes fluttering drowsily when he turns to Connor, mouth falling open, as if to say something. To ask for something. No sound comes out, but still, Connor lifts a hand and guides Evan’s head down his shoulder. Something warm fills Evan’s chest. He’s not sure what to call the feeling, but it’s quite a special thing, when someone knows exactly what you need, and you don’t even have to ask. Evan’s head stays on Connor’s shoulder for the whole drive home.

[soupiiiie]

Boring-tine Quarantine

request: @dangergays WHAT ABOUT AN AWSTEN KNIGHT ONE WHERE HIM AND THE OTHER PERSON ARE STUCK IN QUARANTINE TOGETHER AND THEY DO CUTE CHILDISH SHIT LIKE BUILDING PILLOW FORTS AND HAVING NERF GUN FIGHTS

a.n funny story.. I accidentally read the request but not the fort or nerf gun part. I wrote about it and randomly added those things cause I kept thinking about them. I just read the whole request and I think im psychic now. Anywho... enjoyc :))

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 1,355

It had been three weeks. Three weeks of being stuck in your shared apartment with your best friend Awsten. He had been in his little studio a lot more and you had been watching Disney movies to pass the time. It was official, you were bored. So, doing the only thing you could think of, you pushed yourself off of the couch and went to Awsten’s studio. “Hey, bubba are you busy right now?” You asked slowly opening the door.

“No bub, why what’s up?” He asked, calling you the nickname he gave you when you all met. 

“Um… I’m just kinda bored right now and wanted to know if you wanted to do something..?” You replied regretting not thinking of an idea.

Awsten got up and walked into the kitchen with you trailing behind, “Like what, jellybean? We can’t really go anywhere right now.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I know Aws, I was thinking we could do something here like… play a game or build a fort!” you said enthusiastically. He chuckled and grabbed two glasses and filled them with orange juice.

“Here,” he said handing you the glass, “I like the fort idea, and maybe afterward, we can get out the nerf guns and have a battle.” He said with a glint in his eyes, telling you he wanted to kick your ass.

You thought for a moment before sticking out your hand and replying, “Deal, now let’s grab every single blanket we own and make the best fucking fort the world has ever seen.”  Awsten chuckled and went to his room while you went to yours and grabbed every blanket his mom and your mom gave you guys when you moved. 

After making a pile of pillows and blankets, you got to work hanging blankets from the couch to the tv and even adding Christmas lights to make it cute. “I think we did a pretty damn good job bub,” Awsten exclaimed, excited to get in a cozy up with a movie or video games. 

“Of course it is, you do have the best fort builder ever living with you,” you said as you playfully nudged his shoulder.

You and Awsten had known each other for about five years and hit it off pretty quickly. Though Awsten was attractive, and you make sure to tell him whenever his self-esteem is low, you never tried the dating, it would just be weird. Awsten sat down with you one day and told you that he only ever thought of you as a sister and you agreed honestly. You only ever saw him as a big brother to you, and that’s how he acted. 

After plugging in and turning on the Christmas light, you guys settled into your little cave. “Shit I forgot the snack. Be right back,” Awsten said before crawling out and getting a bag of snacks from the kitchen, “here, I got chips, crackers, cookies, soda, and orange juice.” You laughed as he handed you the bag before settling down beside you and covering up with the blanket you had over your lap.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, looking at Awsten for a decision. He cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment.

“Um… how about Big Hero 6…?” He asked looking to you for approval. You nodded and opened up Disney+, found the movie, and put it on snuggling closer to Awsten since you were cold.

Sometime during the second movie, you had fallen asleep cuddled up to Awsten. He didn’t want to move because you hadn’t slept well the past couple of days, so he decided to fall asleep as well. Around 7 pm, Otto and Geoff decided to come over and surprise Awsten since they haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks. Geoff luckily had a key because you and Awsten weren’t opening the door anytime soon. So after knocking for five minutes and no answer, he unlocked the door and opened it to find a giant blanket fort and Christmas lights everywhere. Wondering where you and Awsten were, he stepped inside and looked under the fort. There you were, cuddled into Awsten’s side as he had his arms wrapped protectively around you. Both of you sleeping soundly as a random movie was now playing on the tv.

Geoff poked Awsten’s shoulder and he stirred slightly. Looking around, he quickly noticed Geoff and Otto standing at the entrance of the fort. With a finger to his lips, he slowly moved to pick you up and take you to your bed. After setting you down and closing your door, he walked into the living room and turned to Geoff and Otto, “What are y’all doing here and how did you get in?” Awsten asked with a look of confusion while grabbing the OJ glasses and putting them in the sink. 

“We came over to see you cause it been three weeks and we got in with the spare key you gave me when you guys moved in. How’s y/n doing?” Geoff asked while sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Oh yeah forgot about those keys, and she’s doing good. She got bored so we built a fort and were gonna have a nerf battle after, but she fell asleep.” Awsten said before grabbing two more glasses and pouring water for the guys.

You stirred a bit in your bed, confused as to how you got there. After stretching, you got up and walked to the kitchen to find Otto, Geoff, and Awsten talking about whatever. “Hey, guys.” You said while giving Otto and Geoff side hugs.

“Hey, there kiddo good to see you,” Geoff said while kissing your head. 

“Yeah, we missed you,” Otto said while kissing your forehead. You walked around the bar and got a soda from the fridge.

“So what did y’all want?” you asked, taking a sip from your soda.

“They haven’t seen us in three weeks and wanted to make sure we were still alive,” Awsten said while taking a sip from your soda. You gave him a glare and rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Yeah, cool fort you built there,” Otto said looking back at the tent of blankets in the living room. You smiled and gave thanks to him while looking back at Geoff and Awsten to see what they were talking about.

After about 20 minutes of conversation and jokes, Geoff spoke up to you guys, “Well I’ve got to get back to say goodnight to Rory. I’ll see you guys sometime.” he gets up and gives Awsten a hug and gives you a hug and kiss on the forehead. “Love you guys,” Geoff said before leaving.

“Well, he’s my ride so I guess I'll see you guys later.” Otto chimed before giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek and Awsten a hug as well. You and Awsten chorused goodbye as Otto left as well.

You turned to look at the fort still how you left it. “Well, do you wanna go in the fort or go to bed?” you asked the green-haired guy beside you. 

“We can always fall asleep in the fort.”

“True, c’mon” you exclaimed before grabbing his hand and pulling him into the fort with you. “Let’s watch Emperors New Groove.” You said as Awsten rolled his eyes.

“We watched that last week bub.” He said with a groan. 

“Whatever Aws.” you rolled your eyes as you put on the movie anyways. Covering yourself and Awsten with the blanket, you cuddled into his side as he, once again, wraps a protective arm around you. You couldn’t be happier at this terrible time. At least you were with your best friend in the whole world. You looked up at Awsten and smiled, “You’re the best big brother Aws. I love you.” You leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he looked down at you.

“I love you too,” He said before kissing your forehead, “and don’t tell Gracie but, you’re the best little sister.” You smiled as you looked back to the movie, soon falling asleep once more.

[megalony]

Let me love you- Part 2

This is the second part of my new slow-burn Roger Taylor series which I hope you will all enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @rogahs-drowse

Summary: (Y/n), Brian’s younger sister, finds herself falling for Roger but he has a thing going on with someone he used to date. There is something off about his relationship with his ex and (Y/n) realises it is affecting Roger.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

Turning her head to the side, (Y/n) found herself smiling as Freddie's delicate fingers danced along the keys of the pain along with her own. Their hands brushing as they both reached for keys next to one another.

Freddie was easily the better piano player but he was also very modest when he was playing, even going as far as to say that he was only an amateur pianist when it was clear he was much more than that. (Y/n) knew a few chords and songs but she liked when Freddie played with her, it was calming and he could teach her the new songs he had come up with. Since she knew how to play it was easy for her to pick up the chords and play along with him.

(Y/n) found it nice to have a friend she could play piano with or just talk to and be close with like this without there having to be anything romantic between them.

(Y/n) bit down on her lip to stop from giggling and messing up the tune when she heard the familiar clicking of a camera signalling her big brother was deciding to snap some memories. Brian had a thing for capturing the moment, it was very confusing to find him anywhere without his trusted camera hanging loosely around his neck or clasped between his fingers.

When the song came to a slow finish, (Y/n) leaned her head on Freddie's shoulder, taking a few moments to bask in the silence they were comforted with. The band were at the studio they normally recorded at and were trying to put together the songs that they had come up with and see what worked and what didn't. Since they weren't properly recording as of yet, Brian had said when she had spare time (Y/n) could come down to the studio and join them.

"Do you want a drink?" She asked quietly, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him as he smiled.

"I'm fine, thank you."

With a nod of her head, (Y/n) pushed herself to her feet, patting his shoulder before she left the recording room the pair of them had been sitting in for the past half hour. Leaving the room, she smiled at her brother and nodded her head in acknowledgement at John before passing the pair of them. There was a drink and food table set up in the back room which was mainly just tea and coffee with a few biscuits and snacks.

Grabbing a cup, she poured herself a small cup of coffee before her eyes set on Roger. He was sitting with a cup of what she already guessed was tea, his head leaning back against the red leather of the sofa he was sitting on.

Deciding to take a chance, (Y/n) slowly approached the drummer who seemed like he was sitting in a world of his own, not even noticing her presence until she was standing right beside him.

Since her talk with Freddie, (Y/n) had thought about and debated getting closer to Roger. Her heart told her it was the right thing to do and her brain said go for it but there was something that always held her back. Something that made her keep a small space between her and the drummer, that stopped her from sitting next to him after shows or trying to strike up a conversation.

Jo.

She was like Roger's sidekick, she was always helping him and knowing what he wanted to drink or eat, knowing when he needed his insulin and helping him have the injection. She knew what kinds of foods he should eat or avoid to keep his blood sugar at the right levels. He drove her home when she had too much to drink and he was level headed. Roger always asked her for advice and laughed at her jokes.

(Y/n) always decided that not getting too close to Roger was the right thing to do because she knew that if she got closer, her crush on him would develop into something more. And if Roger didn't end up feeling the same (Y/n) would have set herself up for failure and would give herself unnecessary pain. Staying away seemed to be the best choice for everyone.

And yet, here she was. An opportunity to sit with Roger and get to know him better, to get to talk to him without people being around or listening in or making her back away.

This seemed just too good to miss.

"Mind if I sit?" (Y/n)'s voice was calm but quiet, indicating if he said no she would simply walk away like she was anticipating that would be his answer. Roger seemed to snap out of whatever daze he had been sitting in because he smiled upon seeing her standing next to him. Instead of him motioning to the seat in front of him in the small booth like she thought he would, Roger nodded and shuffled over to make room for her to sit next to him.

"Of course not."

When (Y/n) sat down next to him, she felt her heart jumping in her chest when he rested his arm over the back of the booth behind her neck, almost resting on her shoulders. It made her think of the movies where the guy would slowly creep his hand onto the girl's shoulder and tug her closer into his side and although she knew Roger wasn't going to do that, the thought still made her giddy.

"I saw you and Fred playing the piano... it sounded lovely." He commented, turning his head so he was looking at her.

Roger was prone to seeing and hearing his friend play the piano, Freddie played on a lot of their songs and during performances from time to time. The drummer thought it was amazing, Freddie could play so quickly it was like the tyres on a car, not being able to see them move as fast as they were but the sound the keys made was beautiful.

It was nice to hear Freddie playing a slow song after being so prone to listening to his fast-paced but amazing melodies and to hear them both doing a duet was a lovely change.

"Thanks, it was Freddie's song, he just taught me the chords." (Y/n) shrugged but Roger simply smiled, he knew she was good at playing the piano and regardless of whether she created the song, she still played it beautifully.

"Fred taught you some piano, I know Brian taught you guitar... why don't you let me teach you the drums? They're the most important instrument." Reaching out, he grabbed his cup of tea and took a swig as he looked at (Y/n), something in his eyes telling her he wasn't joking around.

"I'm sure they are... if you get a chance I'd love to learn." (Y/n) wasn't going to get herself hyped up and excited about him teaching her the drums if the band suddenly had to knuckle down and finish the album leaving no time for him to teach her. But leaving the offer open meant if there was a scrap of time and he remembered, he would most certainly teach her. She knew she couldn't get her hopes up about this as well as not getting her hopes up about her chances with him.

(Y/n) couldn't help but lean the tiniest bit closer to Roger as they started to chat about anything and everything. Both of them knew sooner or later they would have to get back to the others so Roger could get back to working on the album but for now, it was just them and any topic they could come up with.

A flutter appeared in (Y/n)'s chest like birds wings flapping against her ribs when Roger moved his arm from leaning on the sofa to rest it on her shoulders instead. Tightening his arm around her when a joke passed her lips and caused his chest to rumble from laughing. She had never felt so relaxed around him before. Normally when (Y/n) was with Roger she felt anxious about herself, desperate not to make a fool of herself or screw up whatever she was doing. But sitting here with him like this, she didn't feel worried, she was simply having fun.

"Do you have to get back?" (Y/n) couldn't keep the slight disappointment out of her voice when she noticed Roger glancing to the watch strapped to his right wrist that was resting on her shoulder. His eyes darted from the watch to look at her, his eyes softening as he shook his head.

"They can suffer without me for five more minutes... I think I just need my insulin." Roger didn't want to leave just yet but he could tell it was about time he took his insulin before he either got too low sugar levels or they got a bit too high.

(Y/n) pressed her lips together when he slowly retracted his arm from around her shoulders and moved so he was sitting up straight. She thought for a moment they were going to have to get up to go and get his insulin but he simply reached into the bag sitting on his other side and pulled out a small black case. Her eyes watched with intrigue as he opened it up to reveal a very small bottle with a clear liquid in and two needles.

"Do you mind? I'm not so good at doing it myself." Roger had done biology in university, he knew how to properly administer a needle and he knew which vein he should inject it into. But self-medicating with a needle wasn't something he was good at. He got the shakes last time he tried to give himself his insulin and it was always weird when doing it himself since he was causing himself the slight pain that came with the needle.

He watched (Y/n)'s eyes widen and thought for a moment that he had gone a bit too far but he felt relieved when she slowly took the needle from him.

"Fill it up to there." He commented lightly, watching as she did as asked with slow but steady hands. "Just push it a little so there's no air and then I'll show you where to inject it."

(Y/n) pressed her lips together as she lightly tapped the syringe before pushing the end until a small amount of the insulin was released. Any air bubbles she knew would cause injury to Roger and air in the veins could be fatal. She tried to keep her hand steady as Roger rolled up his sleeve before holding his arm out to her. Nodding when she held his underarm to keep the limb straight and steady before he pointed to where the needle wanted to go.

"Do you two need any help?"

(Y/n) locked her eyes with Roger's when he gently held onto her wrist, brushing his thumb over the skin to calm her down when Jo's voice clearly surprised and shocked her. He turned to look at Jo who was standing opposite them, the usual calming smile on her lips as she rose a brow. She was normally the one who helped Roger with his insulin.

Lowering her head, (Y/n) went to retract her hand from Roger's hold, knowing Jo was the better person to do this because she had done it for Roger so many times before and therefore she would have a steadier hand and know what to do. But Roger was having none of that, he simply tugged her wrist closer as he turned his attention back to her.

"I think (Y/n)'s got this, right little lady?" His eyes were willing for her to do this but (Y/n) didn't know why.

Why was Roger insisting she help him when Jo was the more experienced in doing this and she was always the person he went to for help?

But whatever the reason was, he wanted her to help and (Y/n) didn't think she had the power to pull away from him now. She slowly nodded her head which caused Roger to let go of her wrist, pointing back to where he needed the needle to go. (Y/n) held her breath as she pushed the needle into his skin until he nodded that it was in far enough. Her eyes followed the liquid as it disappeared in the blink of an eye before she slowly retracted the needle from his skin.

Without thinking, (Y/n) brushed her thumb over the pinprick mark left in the crease of Roger's right elbow. Smearing away the small trace of blood that appeared.

"All done. Thank you, little lady."

"I-it's nothing... I'll go back to the boys, see you there." (Y/n) dismissed herself, but not before Roger had a chance to gently take her wrist again and press a gentle kiss to the back of her hand in thanks for helping him out.

(Y/n) quickly left the booth before the drummer had a chance to see the faint blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. Her heart soared in her chest as she turned right into the small corridor that led up to the recording room. But (Y/n) couldn't seem to help herself, she had to stop and have a small peak around the wall to glance back at the pair. She didn't know why she did it but she felt compelled to take a lasting look at Roger.

Jo was sat right where she had been sitting moments previously, already sweeping in and helping out. Placing a circular plaster over the small pinprick in his arm as a rather charming laugh escaped her lips at something the drummer said.

It felt like the very same needle had just punctured through (Y/n)'s heart when she watched Roger lean his forehead against Jo's temple, a goofy but still sweet smile on his lips as he seemed to be chiding her or making fun of her in some playful way.

It was as if (Y/n) had never been there at all.

[symphonic--chaos]

Someday Stars

Chapter 1/? Malec (Shadowhunters AU) Summary: Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane are both YouTube musicians who dream of making it big some day. When Simon Lewis and his band, Rock Solid Panda, go on tour and ask them to open for him, they both realize this could be their window to something greater.

Also here on AO3

Alec rushed around his apartment, creating a tornado's path with every step as his hands grabbed clothes as fast as they could. He knew he should have folded them after getting home from the laundromat last night. The email from Simon Lewis's management team still sat open on his laptop, which had been thrown unceremoniously to the end of his bed, the words still sitting on the screen: We will be back in New York City tonight and we would love to invite you to join our tour.If you will join us, you will be opening after Magnus Bane, and followed by Simon and the band. We will provide the bus, Simon does have room on his own. Please bring any merchandise you would like to sell. [Text from Izzy] OMG OMG OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS??????? YES, DO IT DO IT DO IT [Text from Izzy] while you're at it, get me some free tickets [Text from Mom] Oh, I'm so proud of you Alec! The book store and myself will be fine. Isabelle can help me. Go! I'm sure you'll make more money on the tour than here, anyway. We need to empty out your web store and send you with merch! [Text from Izzy] waIT I JUST SAW MAGNUS BANE IS THERE???!!!! TICKETS, BROTHER, YOU THREE ARE MY DREAM TOUR. [Text from Mom] Isabelle is screaming, I can hear her from downstairs. With each vibration Alec felt his anxiety grow, his hands shaking as he shoved the last thing he needed into the second suitcase. His eyes scanned over each text as he struggled to hold his phone, the smile growing on his face with each text they read. They lingered on the name Magnus Bane as he read Izzy's texts, he knew the name but he wasn't sure if he'd actually sat and listened to him. Both of them were musicians on YouTube aspiring to be as big as Simon had gotten, though according to Izzy, Magnus had just a slightly bigger following than Alec now because of the tour. Taking in a deep breath, Alec tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying to focus himself on relaxing- he still had six hours until the tour reached New York City from their first shows in Boston and Hartford the previous nights.

"Alexa, start YouTube."

Alec said to the TV, releasing the button on the firestick as he moved into the kitchen. The cardboard of the pizza box he'd retrieved from within the fridge gave a dull thud as it was tossed onto the counter and a slice of cheese was taken out. "Magnus Bane," he said around a full mouth once he'd selected the search option, leaning against the counter as he watched the TV begin pulling up the search results. A few clicks had him on the fellow singers profile, his eyes scanning over the short bio on the About page. **NOW TOURING WITH ROCK SOLID PANDA** Singer/Pianist/Loverboy Web Shop Insta Twitter

Moving onto the main tab, Alec scrolled through, some of the highlighted ones being of Magnus sitting in a room decked out like a studio, or being in an actual studio. One or two was of him and a girl with a bright smile and dark eyes, her lips painted deep red and eyes with as much eyeliner as Magnus had. Alec noticed there was a trend of hearts on each video title with her in it, no doubt this was someone he liked or was dating and it came as no surprise, Alec thought as he took another bite of the pizza, Magnus was pretty attractive.

Scrolling to the top once more and finally selecting videos, he was surprised to see a video had been uploaded the day before, the preview screenshot much different than the bright, usually gold and purple themed photoshopped pictures he did in most of the videos Alec had scrolled past. This time is was Magnus illuminated on a stage by a single light from above, his head bowed as a grand piano sat at the mercy of his fingers. The picture was only titled HALLELUJAH, rather than the more descriptive titles on other videos.

Alec selected the video and moved to the couch to flop down with the pizza box. The camera shook a little, it was clear someone was holding it rather than it being on a tripod and self-shot. Alec wondered if it was someone from Simon's team or if Magnus had crew of his own- something Alec realized he didn't have any of which might create problems down the line. One of his dogs came over to the couch, a whine in her throat and vibrating against his knee as she rested her chin on him, looking longingly at the pizza in his hand as the piano started, soft and slow. Alec took a final bite before offering half of the crust to the dog, saving the other half for her brother.

Alec choked as he heard the voice come from his TV.

His whipped back to the screen as Magnus sang the first verse, his voice soft but firm like the notes being played on the piano. Despite the camera staying focused on Magnus and the piano as a whole, only moving as the person slowly circled the two, Alec couldn't stop staring at the look on Magnus's face. It didn't take a genius to know something was bothering him, that bright smile and lit up eyes from the video previews replaced by something dark, sad. His voice wasn't forced, but there was something in it that Alec knew all too well, he was singing this to someone- this upload was deliberate, a public liberation.

The camera came around to Magnus's side as he reached the second verse and once again his face was changing, sadness turning to anger and Alec could see the tears in Magnus's eyes. Alec's hand shifted on the remote, the volume on the screen going up as he leaned forward, not even noticing the other dog coming and slowly stealing the other crust half from his hand. “She tied you to her kitchen chair,” Alec could hear Magnus's voice getting louder, angrier, hearing the echo of both his singing and the piano echoing through the empty hall unveiled behind him as the person filming moved.

"And she broke your throne and she cut your hair," Magnus was hitting the keys harder. "And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah." Magnus's voice finally wavered, cracking as the pain seeped out in a moment of weakness, his fingers slammed down the final notes of the second verse before stilling. Alec's breath caught in his throat as he watched the singer take in a deep breath, the sound in the echoing silence monumental as the person filming paused, whether on purpose or a sudden feeling of remorse. "Hallelujah, hallelujah," It took a little under thirty seconds, but Magnus was playing again and this time, he was a broken man nearly whispering his lament. This was for the girl with the heart in her title. Alec finally found his breath as his lungs screamed for air, his heart pounding in his chest and, much to his surprise, his eyes stung with tears for the man on the screen. He didn't even know Magnus yet and already his heart was breaking with him as if he'd been through whatever relationship issues Magnus was having as well. Alec knew he put a lot of emotion in his music, thoughts and dreams into his lyrics, but here was someone who managed to bring him to a level he'd never reached before when listening to a performance. Whether it was the anger resurfacing or a sudden strength that Magnus had forgotten was in him, Alec came back to the moment when he heard Magnus singing the final verse of the song, his voice rising strong, normally low notes changed to high in such a beautiful time and contrast with the notes played on the piano, made his own and suddenly Alec could tell why Izzy was such a fan of the man on the screen. The final 'Hallelujah's' resonated through the hall, the camera recording him picking up each echo of the lyrics until the last note played and the echos faded away. Alec swallowed harshly, his tongue darting out over dry lips only to find everything was dry from his mouth being agape. Alec would be touring with the one who just poured his heart and soul out to not only the piano but his virtual audience. Magnus was a performer to a level that Alec wasn't sure he was ready to follow with his mellow tunes. Magnus was... amazing and Alec knew he needed to meet him. -- Simon waved Alec along behind him, his big goofy smile bright in the near darkness as the sun set behind the tall buildings in the horizon. Lights were just starting to come on and Alec had already been given a tour of Simon's bus, his bunk, and was alerted that all staff needs would be handled by Simon's staff due to the late notice in having him join the tour. It was a relief to say the least, since Alec wasn't used to any sort of tours, he was used to the safety of his recording room behind a microphone and camera with his guitar on his lap. "Come on, this is Magnus's bus. I'll introduce you to him." Simon said, not bothering to knock on the door and instead putting in the code on the door and letting himself in. It took only seconds after the door opened and they stepped up onto the stairs that a woman's harsh voice filled the bus. "You can't just tell me to leave! We've been together for years! YEARS, Magnus!" "Well maybe you should have thought of those years before you fucked two guys on the staff, Camille!" Magnus's voice snapped back, no hint of control there like he'd had in the video that was uploaded. Simon looked back at Alec, behind him on the stairs, like a deer caught in headlights. Neither wanted to move, neither wanted to say anything about them being there, purely out of fear of the repercussions. Alec shrugged and glanced behind him to see how they could back out slowly and quietly, only then noticing what looked like Magnus's staff out on the sidewalk behind them, seemingly waiting for the fight. Great of them to warn he and Simon. "It was a mistake! I had too much to drink, you know how things get!" Camille retorted, her voice going from harsh to pleading, Alec almost able to hear the tears in her voice. Cheap shot, he thought. It was Magnus's silence that had Alec peeking up slowly over the partition between the bus and the stairs, not daring to go up any higher like Simon was. Simon was actually impressed the two hadn't noticed them yet. Magnus looked done, his eyes tired and his lips void of the bright smile he had in every video; instead turned down in a deep frown. He looked thoughtfully at Camille and Alec almost wanted to tell him not to cave to guilt tactics, but this wasn't his place. He didn't know either of them, he didn't know the situation other than her cheating- he bit back the comment. "Camille, you need to leave. It's done. We're done." "Magnus, we--" "We went through this once before, two years ago, remember? You drank too much, you got loose with the wrong guy. I forgave you and said I would never do it again and now here we are, Camille. Back to this same old shit and I'm tired. I want to make something of my life and having to worry about keeping you close so you don't just fuck someone with a bottle of gin? That's not part of my life. Please get out." Magnus said finally and Alec watched him stare Camille in the eye, holding strong to his words. It was something Alec wasn't sure he could bring himself to do in a situation like this, but he felt an almost pride in Magnus for it. "No. No, Magnus, we can talk this o--" Camille started, though Simon clearing his throat caught her attention and she looked over at him, her pleading look turning into a sneer. "We're having a conversation here!" "One that it sounds like Magnus is done with. Look, this is between you two, but we have a show coming up tomorrow and I wanted to introduce Magnus to Alec..." Simon trailed off as he motioned behind him to Alec, who had ducked back down as if he wasn't there. Well, the jig was up. Alec straightened up, giving the two further in the bus a sheepish smile and a hesitant wave. "Uh, hey. I'm Alec Li--" "Lightwood." Magnus finished, sounding miserable still but Alec gave him a break on the smile he tried to force on his face. "I've seen and subscribe to you, you do great work." Alec felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't heard of Magnus before, especially considering Magnus had at least a thousand more followers than he himself did. A hand rose to run through shaggy black hair in desperate need of a haircut, something he should of had done instead of spending hours watching Magnus's videos. Then again, he was sure Magnus probably followed a bunch of YouTube musicians, especially with a collab folder as large as he'd found under the video collections and the amount of 'Musician spotlight' shoutout videos that were also there. "It's nice to meet you, and ..." Alec looked to Camille, every bit of his willpower used to not make a face of displeasure. First impressions were important and the first of her was certainly something. "This is Camille, my ex-girlfriend. She was just leaving." The bag held towards Camille punctuated Magnus's words as he nodded towards the door. It didn't need to be said twice, Simon moved quickly out of the way and into the drivers seat area as Alec backed out of the bus to make room for her. It seemed like both men were eager to be rid of her, which Alec could only find himself mimicking to ease the moment. Camille looked between Magnus and Simon before she ripped the bag out of Magnus's hands, her eyes narrowing at him. "You'll regret this some day, Magnus. You don't know what you're losing." She spat out, her heels clicking harshly down the aisle of the bus and the stairs to follow. "You okay...?" Simon asked as he looked over to Magnus, moving further into the bus to pat his shoulder comfortingly. Alec was behind him though giving the two a bit of space, not wanting to intrude on the two friends that seemed to be having a moment. "I'm fine, thank you for stepping in. I didn't want to snap, I just..." Magnus sighed before glancing over Simon's shoulder and straightening his slumped back. "Mr. Lightwood, I'm glad you could join the tour. When Simon's manager mentioned wanting to reach out to you, I backed Simon and told her I highly recommended it. They were worried it was too last minute, but who gets a chance like this, right?" Alec found himself smiling at Magnus's smile, no matter how defeated it looked on the other man. "Yes, thank you, and thank you, Simon, for talking to her about me. Really, this is... I couldn't have even imagined I'd be here right now, much less going on a tour across the country performing for people, with other people." "Surreal, isn't it? This one is bigger than my last one, that was kind of just a small venue type thing where it was little crowds, but once we saw forums saying people were sad we were sold out, and when my manager saw people outside lined up around the block trying to get in still, they knew we had to go a little bigger this time. Really it was the last albums success, plus all the promotions and videos we threw up on YouTube that made it work for us. That last bit was at some persuasion of Magnus during one of the collabs we did of a Queen cover. Also we--" "Simon, you're rambling." Magnus chimed in, his fingers massaging his temple. Alec noticed the paint was slightly chipped, but he was sure there was more pressing things that Magnus had to worry about than that. "Oh! Oh, I am, yeah, sorry." Simon laughed and looked at the men he was basically sandwiched between. "Sooooo Alec, you should come see the venue and you can talk to my manager. Do you have a manager? They could talk about pay and stuff like that?" Simon's attention turned solely to Alec, who seemed nervous suddenly. "I... no. I mean, my mom handles a lot of my stuff like little shows around town and my sister handles my merch store but... I'm my own manager." "Nothing wrong with that, I'm my own currently as well. It's not so hard, I can show you the ropes." Magnus offered as he moved to the nearby fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and offering it out towards the two. Simon took it, Alec taking the next offered, and Magnus opened the third to take a long sip. "What order will we be doing this?" "I think you should go first to get the crowd riled up, then Alec, then me." Simon answered, his fingers fiddling with the cap of the water bottle. "Actually, I was thinking, if it's okay, if I go first and Magnus goes before you?" Alec said nervously, clearing his throat. He then looked to Magnus as he lifted a hand in defense, which had the other smirking. "Not that I want to displace you other anything, I just... you know, my stuff is kind of slower and I stand there and play my guitar. Magnus... is everywhere. I saw someone call him the next Freddie Mercury and I mean, I've been watching videos and--" "You've been watching me, Alexander?" Magnus mused, watching the faint trace of pink tint Alec's cheeks at both the comment and the name. "N-NO, I mean, yes, but-- look, what I mean is I think Magnus can get them more riled up and ready for you better than I can. He's got the energy like you, he's got an entire band to perform with, it's just me and--" "Are you torturing the new talent?" A woman's voice floated from the staircase, all three turning to look at the redhead watching them with amusement. "Ah! That's my manager. Alec, this is Jocelyn. Jocelyn, Alec. Her daughter, Clary, does the art for our flyers and shirts." Simon introduced, slipping past Alec to go over and greet the woman. "Should we show him the venue? Go over setlists?" "I think that would be the wisest decision, we don't have much time." Jocelyn nodded, smiling to Alec and Magnus before turning and moving back off the bus. "Alec, do you have a manager?" She asked as Alec came off the bus as well, followed by Magnus. "No, not yet. Just me. Magnus said he could help, though?" Jocelyn glanced past Alec to Magnus as he spoke, nodding in agreement. "I can help you out as well, we'll make you a natural. I've been teaching Simon along the way with the promise that he doesn't replace me." She winked to them and turned to lead them to the venue, the guard at the door opening it for them once he saw the badge around her neck. -- "This is..." Alec stood on the stage, looking over the rows of seating both on the floor and on the balcony above them. "Intimidating?" Simon asked. "Beautiful?" Magnus said at the same time, the two looking at each other with grins before they looked over at Alec. "Yeah," Alec answered with a breathless laugh, since both statements were pretty spot on. He'd played in coffee shops and small bookstores, but this was 10x's bigger than anything he'd been in before. It was surreal, almost so much so that he couldn't believe it was real. He was grateful for the opportunity and even more so of the moment that the two were giving him to soak it all in. Alec was sure they'd both had their own their first time, which Magnus had stated on their way in was the show they did in Boston. It apparently took him almost an hour to recover from it, and he only fully accepted it when they stepped into the Hartford venue. "You ready, big guy?" Jocelyn asked as she touched Alec's shoulder lightly, bringing him out of that moment and making him realize that Simon and Magnus had left his side and were now messing around with some of the equipment waiting for the show the next night. "Y-Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to get lost there." Alec could feel his face heating up, but Jocelyn looked plenty understanding and smiled at him, exuding the air of motherlike patience. "Hey, everyone goes there. Simon looked like a kid in a candy store his first big stage. Took me fifteen minutes to get him to stop running around with his arms up like some musical Rocky." She laughed and led him back to the others, putting a folder down on the table. "Alright guys, I think Alec was right in saying he should go first. No offense, Alec." "None taken." "Magnus you not only have energy, you're just infectious and now that ... she's gone, I think you're just free, kid. That Magnus you bottled up to keep an eye on her, let him go. Be the you we all saw on your channel, the one that we fell in love with when you came to the studio to do Killer Queen with them." Magnus's arms were crossed, his face neutral, but her pep talk seemed to bring a little bit of that light back and he couldn't stop the crook of his lips from forming a little smile. "You want me to..." "Break free." Jocelyn said with a playful wink, the two having found a bond over a shared love of Queen. "Are you guys flirting? This looks like flirting. I'm totally cool with it but like--" Simon's voice carried all the humor that Alec had expected from everything he'd seen on the RSP channel- he'd always seemed like the goofiest of the group. A shove from Magnus had Simon laughing and lifting his hands in a mock surrender. Jocelyn rolled her eyes though her smile was bright and she opened the folder, pulling out different papers and handing them to the men they belonged to respectively. "Alec, Clary and I went through your channel and we picked the videos with the most views, both covers and your originals, the same way we did with Magnus. What your homework is tonight is to go through this list and let me know if there's anything you want to add or remove. Remember that you have a 45 minute slot- so make sure the songs fit. It's okay if you go five minutes over, but we generally try to keep that to any crowd attention and loving you want to do after you perform. Magnus, you do the same, though I'm sure you want to keep your set, and Simon- anything you want to switch up?" Alec was completely baffled at the situation, he had always just assumed that artists picked out their own list of their most current music and then just random songs from different albums, but it made sense that they would go with the most popular since after all, that was what sold tickets. Simon was busy scribbling out one song and replacing it with another and Magnus---- Magnus was watching him. Alec froze, unable to tear his eyes away from the stare they'd become locked into, and it wasn't until Magnus gave a smile, a genuine one this time, that Alec was able to look away, instead focusing on the paperwork on the table. "This list is pretty good, I think I might replace two, but not too much more than that." Alec stuttered as he felt himself grow hot once more. What in the hell was going on with him? "Great, make sure you have it to me by 10 A.M tomorrow. The sound guys will need to go over everything with you and get pre-testing done, so we'll want to take care of that after to make soundcheck move smoothly tonight. Also, you're free to stay in your own place while we're in the city as long as you promise you'll be back on time, assuming you live in the city?" Jocelyn was excited herself to be near her own bed and it was very evident in her tone of voice. Looking around the table, Simon and especially Magnus looked just as relieved to be back home, even though they'd only been gone for less than a week. Alec could only imagine what it would be like in a couple weeks when they'd only be a month into the six month tour. "Yeah, I live about twenty minutes from here so I think that's great. My dogs will appreciate it." "Dogs? You have dogs? You should bring them!" Simon chirped, perking up at the mental image of having dogs with them all as stress relief. "Simon, no. There isn't enough room on the bus and we just started the tour. It's going to get crazy. Let's revisit that in a month, okay?" Jocelyn's words were only relenting at the end when Simon's smile dropped and she even noticed Magnus looked bummed. Alec smiled at the trio in front of him, feeling like they all were Jocelyn's new adopted kids. Admittedly it would be a little nice having a mom on the road, especially since this would be the first time Alec would be far from his own. There was no doubt he was a mama's boy, and there was nothing he would do to deny it if ever called out on it. As Jocelyn and Simon spoke about the setlist change once more, Alec's eyes caught Magnus's at the same time as Magnus had started looking at Alec, the two staring at each other subtly for a moment before Magnus was spoken to by Simon. This would definitely be an interesting start to a new beginning for Alec.

[the-beastslayers-queen]

A Dangerous Game: Chapter 1

So this is my new story I’ve been working on. Tagging: @queenofthearchitect @biforbecky2belts @writtingrose @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk and if anyone else wishes to be tagged for this beauty, hit my inbox.

“Cat,” I heard my brother call me from downstairs at the entryway to my studio loft apartment, “We’re going to be late if ye don’t hurry yer arse up!”

“You can’t rush perfection, Finn,” I shouted back, “Besides, this is my party and I can be late if I want to be, damn it.”

I smirked as I heard him groan at knowing I was right. I made sure I had everything I needed. Lipstick? Check. Hair ties? Check. Phone? Check. Ipad? Check. Side piece? Of course check.

See the thing with my life is that I am the second-in-command of my brother’s gang, Bálor Club. Brother’s real name is Fergal Devitt and I’m Catriona Devitt. But we go by Finn and Cat (And only a select few call me Catie) Bálor. We do it to keep our illicit activities from getting back to our parents. Now a key thing to note is that Finn and I aren’t blood related. I was adopted when I was just a baby, but I don’t have an Irish accent anymore since I was sent to the US for middle school through college because my birth mother’s brother, my uncle, had asked if he could be involved in my life and help get a really good education. So I went to an elite, all-girls boarding school and then went to the Michigan State University for a major in criminal psychology and a minor accounting. It was while I was at school I also dabbled in computers and coding, becoming a hacker and a computer builder as a hobby and to make some extra cash on the side. I’m like a genius.

So when I returned home to Bray, Finn had told me he was the leader of a gang and that he was heading to Orlando to get things started there, I followed him whole-heartedly. I was going to watch his back and help keep his books for him. Plus with my major I knew how to out think the cops.

Since I was put in charge of the money for our gang, I kept my iPad with me at all times. I had the program on there that I designed myself that can hack into any bank account I needed to and I could syphon funds or if I needed to make someone disappear, I could do so with a few keystrokes and I leave no digital evidence behind in the systems I crack. I designed my program to delete itself entirely from any server it gets placed into.

But with any gang, there tends to be competition. Bálor Club has two main competitors. The biggest threat to us is Clan McIntyre. They’re led by Drew McIntyre, his second-in-command Baron Corbin, and his sergeant-at-arms Dolph Ziggler. But another threat that can’t be ignored is The Authority. They were very well established when we first arrived in Orlando, but were willing to help us get started since they were at odds with the Straight-Edge Society and the Corre at the time and we helped them run those two out of town. The Authority even split the assets left behind by the two gangs as a token of peace between us.

But we’re now on shaky ground due to my soon-to-be announced engagement tonight at my party. Clan McIntyre and The Authority do not see eye-to-eye with each other and for us to be aligning with them through my marriage to McIntyre himself, it makes it very fragile with the dealings between us and The Authority. So Finn is going to be having some key members of The Authority at the party to work on a way to keep the peace between all of us. More than likely Finn is going to try to offer himself up to one of The Authority’s daughters, Bayley, in order to satisfy all parties.

All I knew is that this was too much politics for a hacker to keep track of so I left that with Finn. I just handled the money and the digital traces of our organization, maybe running a couple of the legit businesses if I was bored enough. But for the most part I left the politicking to Finn since he was so good at it. He was the one that arranged my marriage and he was going to put his silver tongue to the test tonight.

Once I was satisfied with my appearance and having all the contents in my purse accounted for, I descended down the stairs from my bedroom to my brother as he stood in the doorway waiting for me. I embraced my brother, enjoying his softer side he only showed to me when we were alone or around our parents, and led the way out of my apartment to head to our most popular business and the venue for my party, The Bullet Club.

When we arrived to Bullet Club, the party was in full swing. I saw my two closest friends and my personal bodyguards when I have to conduct Club business, Gallows and Anderson waiting for us at the club entrance. I ran up to the two men and embraced them both.

“How are my good brothers tonight,” I asked them, “Any good marks for me to con out of a couple drinks?”

“And what would your new fiancé have to say about that, Catie,” Anderson asked with a smile, “I’ll keep an eye out, like a good wingman, and find you an easy sucker to buy you all the drinks you could want.”

“Anderson,” Finn scolded him, “I would like to keep her from getting completely wasted in front of McIntyre tonight. So please, for the sake of our good friendship, don’t get her any marks tonight.”

“Kill joy,” I grumbled as I crossed my arms across my chest with a huff.

“You’ll thank me later for this, Catie,” Finn kissed my cheek, “I’m going to go find McIntyre and have him come see you in our office above the DJ booth. Then I’m going to conduct business with Hunter in the VIP section. Behave, Cat, there’s a lot riding on your first impression with Drew and his clan.”

“Alright I’ll play nice,” I threw my hands up in surrender, “But only for you, deartháir mór.”

I walked off with Gallows and Anderson in tow, making my way up to the office above the club. As I cut through the crowd, I ended up getting bumped into by a man with long dark hair and a small patch of it bleached blond. I locked eyes with him and lost my train of thought in his dark dreamy eyes. I mean he was quite a bit taller than me, maybe 6’1”, and he was fairly lean. He was just so damn attractive.

“Sorry,” he apologized as he recovered his balance, “I didn’t see you behind me. I’m Seth.”

“Catriona,” I replied as I held my hand out to him, “You can call me Cat, Seth.”

Seth smiled softly towards me and shook my hand. Once his hand touched mine I felt something like a spark of electricity. Now I was intrigued by him. But like Finn said, I had business to attend to first.

“Can I buy you a drink, Cat,” he asked as he looked to my guards.

“I actually have some business to attend to,” I replied, “But when I finish, I might have to take you up on your offer.”

I left Seth on the dance floor and continued on my way up to the office. Once I arrived, I took off my coat and hung it up on the coat rack by the door before I sauntered over to the big desk that sat in front of the large window that looked out over the dancefloor, and plopped down in the giant chair before I spun it around to look out over the dancefloor. I spotted Seth dancing with four girls and two other guys. I wished I was down on that dancefloor with him, but I had to put what I want aside for the sake of my brother and our club and get prepared to meet my fiancé tonight.

I heard the door open and turned around in the chair to find Finn walking in with a giant of a man with dark hair pulled back from his face and a thick, closely trimmed beard. He was smartly dressed, wearing a nicely tailored suit that did not end up hiding his impressive physique. I was enjoying the sight of this attractive man in front of me.

“Drew, this is my sister and right hand woman,” Finn introduced me as I kicked my feet up onto the desk, “This is Catriona Bálor.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet ya, lass,” Drew bowed his head to me, “Your brother hear has told me a lot about ye. But if you grew up together, where’s yer Irish accent.”

“I lost it,” I replied, “Since I spent my teenage years here in the States in a small town in the mid-west. It comes out only when I force it or if I’m speaking Gaelic. Otherwise, I blend in like I grew up here all along.”

“Anyway,” Finn stepped to stand between me and Drew, “Now that you’ve met, do you want to go arrange the wedding or going through a courtship first before we seal the deal.”

“I would like to enjoy an engagement with your sister,” Drew replied, “We can have a long engagement to let her get to know me and get familiar with my operation. I do not wish to make her marry me as a stranger and be forced to remain with me. Even if she wishes not to marry me, I’m sure we can still remain allies out of respect. If I see reason to break the whole alliance off, I will inform you first before I take you to war, Bálor.”

“Does that work for you, deirfiúr beag,” Finn asked me.

“Yeah that will work,” I agreed, “Am I free to go? I’d like to go get drinks and dance for a while.”

“Of course,” Drew answered before Finn could, “I will go out tomorrow to find the perfect ring for you, but for tonight I want to talk business with your brother.”

I booked it out of the office and ran into Gallows and Anderson. I knew they would end up following me down to the dancefloor, drawing attention to me. I wanted to go down to find Seth again and take him up on that drink. I didn’t like how cocky Drew came off with me, sure he was attractive as hell, but I did not want to marry him. He came off like a guy that would be controlling and dominate in the relationship. What I wanted was a man that could be in charge, but knew when to let off and let me be in charge. Drew did not seem like that kind of man.

“I’m going to the dancefloor,” I shared glances between Gallows and Anderson.

“And you want us to stay guard Finn over following you,” Gallows finished my sentence for me.

“Consider it done,” Anderson added, “We know you want to keep your low profile to go see that Seth guy. Just be careful. If you pursue him, you’ll be playing with fire.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I reassured him, “I did this when I was dating Pete.”

“Yeah and how did that end up working out for you,” Gallows perked his eyebrows at me.

“So Pete and I ended up splitting,” I replied, “And he got a tongue lashing from Finn for even trying to date me. I promise I’ll be careful. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Devlin pub to meet with Jordan to go over the books.”

I took my leave and made my way to the DJ booth to make a few requests and passed the DJ a $100 dollar bill tip so I got my requests first before I made my way to the dancefloor. As my first song came on, I swayed my hips to the beat of the track, letting the music take control of every fiber of my body and getting lost in the crowd for a moment.

As I danced, I felt a pair of hands grab my hips. I looked up over my shoulder to find Seth there. I smirked at the fact that he ended up finding me instead of me finding him in the crowd.

“Is your business done,” he asked as he pressed his body into my back, “Because if you’re still interested in that drink, I’m still willing to pay up.”

“A drink sounds great,” I replied, “Lead the way to the bar, handsome.”

Seth took my hand and guided me between the bodies dancing around us. Once we got to the bar, it was much easier to talk and hear each other. I love being at the club, since I loved to dance. But on the other hand, I do like intimacy and bars, like our dive bar in the rougher part of Orlando, The Coup De Grace. It was the one business I enjoyed running for my brother since the regulars were nice and the people we have working there were the best.

“Now that we can really talk,” Seth started once he had our drinks ordered with the bartender, “I have to ask, what kind of ‘business’ did you have to attend to?”

“Well the party here at the club is in my honor,” I replied, “I’m supposed to be getting engaged.”

“Oh shit,” he recoiled from me a little, “Maybe buying you a drink isn’t the best idea.”

“Hey,” I grabbed hold of his hand, “The fiancé hasn’t put a ring on my finger yet. I only just met him tonight. Let me have tonight with you and if things go south with him and this whole arranged marriage, I need a booty call.”

“Oh so I’m a booty call,” he smirked, “Sweetheart, you won’t be able to keep me as just a booty call.”

“Someone’s cocky,” I smirked as the bartender handed us our drinks.

“Confidence is more the term I prefer,” he replied with a smug smirk on his face, “Maybe after a couple drinks I could take you to my apartment and really have fun.”

“Yeah keep dreaming pretty boy,” I replied with a sarcastic laugh, “I’m letting you buy me drinks for now. If you’re lucky and I like after a couple rounds, we’ll see about going back to your place.”

“Yo Rollins,” Seth and I both perked at the sound of a man coming over to the bar. This guys was huge compared to Seth. His black hair was pulled back in a neat bun and his goatee was crisp and cleanly shaved. He wore just a simple t-shirt and jeans, the shirt exposed this intricate Samoan tattoo on his right arm, which meant this guy was Samoan. He was followed by a guy with somewhat shaggy strawberry blond hair that hung his face and he was clean shaven and wore a white t-shirt, a leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and a pair of black boots.

“Hey brother,” the blond greeted Seth, “Dad is meeting with Bálor right now to look into making arrangements between him and Bayley. He told us to get you so we can join the meeting. Oh who’s this lovely lady?”

“This is Cat,” Seth replied, “Looks like I have business to attend to. I’ll handle the tab for this round. I’ll have to get another round with you some other time.”

Before Seth left he got out a pen and wrote on a napkin and handed it to me. As he left I looked down at the napkin to find his name and phone number written on it. I smiled and looked up to watch him disappear into the crowd.