#she can do whatever she wants but just contemplate a world where Taylor Swift did a rock album

[headlights-and-sleepless-nights]

Patiently waiting (potentially for the rest of my life) for a Taylor Swift rock album is anybody on the same wavelength

[the-bau-quinjet]

How could you do this babe?

In Breakable Heaven chapter one! Here we go!

Summary: Reader’s ready to celebrate her anniversary with her boyfriend, but things don’t go as planned. 

Warnings: Cheating, swearing, drunk people

Word Count: ~2100

“…leave a message at the beep.”

You couldn’t help but be disappointed that he didn’t answer, but didn’t mind leaving a message. “Hey babe, I was able to close the bookstore early! I should be to yours in the next few minutes if you want to celebrate early. I know you like to have ample time to get ready, so I guess I just wanted to warn you. Anyway, I love you. See you soon.” You left the voicemail as you walked to your car. Tonight you are celebrating your three-year anniversary. You even changed into your brand new lingerie to surprise him, wearing a long coat to hide it in public. It felt a little bit wrong not wearing real clothes, but you were determined to make this the best anniversary celebration yet.

 The drive to his apartment was relatively uneventful. A light rain started about halfway through the five-minute drive. As you pull up to his apartment building, you notice the lights on in his room. “Good, he’s home” you think to yourself as you open the door, shuffling inside from the muggy DC weather. As you approach the apartment door, you can hear the soft music of the playlist you made last month featuring all of Taylor Swifts most romantic love songs. Your heart flutters as you think of the kind gesture. Of course, he would be thoughtful enough to put on music as you arrived at his apartment. Unlocking the door and untying your coat at the same time proved to more difficult than anticipated, but you managed to nudge the door open whispering “happy anniversary baby” in the sultriest tone you could.

 As you took in the rest of the apartment, your heart burst. There were roses everywhere. Candles lit a path to the bedroom. Maybe he did know how to be a romantic. Dropping your things on the counter and sliding your coat off the rest of the way, you tip toed into the bedroom to surprise him since he clearly did not get your message. The next sixty seconds felt as though time stopped. Or, more accurately, you froze and everything else in the world took on an impossible speed.

As you pushed open the bedroom door, three things caught your attention. First, you felt a surprising amount of resistant as you pushed the door over a bundle of clothes you didn’t recognize. Second, you heard the bed bouncing against the wall. Third, you saw streaks of auburn hair running through you’re boyfriend’s hands as he mercilessly pounded into a woman you didn’t recognize.

 Apparently, your entrance was too quiet for either of them to be interrupted. All you could manage was to slowly retreat into the living room, closing the door, but knocking into a side table.  You could hear them as they stopped moving, running to the door to investigate the noise. All you wanted was to get out of there though. Throwing your coat back over your lingerie, you grabbed your purse and keys, slamming the door shut. You didn’t even turn around when you heard him opening the door and calling your name. Whatever he had to say was not worth your time anymore.

 You couldn’t get the image of the two of them in bed together out of your head. You were feeling absolutely everything at once. You felt betrayed. You felt sad. A small part of you was actually glad you had a reason to end it. It had never felt like the kind of relationship that would move on. But still, you thought you were happy with him.

 But mostly, you were pissed. Rightfully so, but you had no idea where to go or what to do. Your blind adrenaline carried you to the car, and you wound up at a bar. You don’t even remember starting the car, much less driving, but you knew you needed something to drink. You ran inside, ordering tequila shots to drown the sadness, and sat at the bar. As you sat at the bar, contemplating your existence, a man walked up to sit next to you. You had your fair share of practice with this scenario. You had mastered the right mix “fuck off” and “sorry, I’m taken” to get men like this guy to back off with just a single look. But right now, all you could manage was a halfhearted grin that very clearly said “you do not want to deal with my emotional baggage right now.” It was all in the crazed look in your eyes, you were sure of it.

 Nobody else came up to you while you were there. You couldn’t help but think over the past three years with him for signs that he was unfaithful. You couldn’t come up with any, the cheating bastard. He must have been pretty good at hiding the secret phone calls and date nights. But then again, you had your own secrets. Not that they would have made him feel like you do right now.

 After sitting long enough to consume four shots of tequila, two vodka sodas, and one dark and stormy, reality set in. All you wanted was to curl up in a ball and scream. Or cry. You were obviously not returning to his apartment, but you couldn’t go back to your own either. There was too much there that reminded you of him. The idea of walking in there to see his sweatshirt on your couch made you feel sick. You were teetering on the edge of a full breakdown when the idea struck you. Penelope.

 Penelope Garcia is your best friend. You met her at a Doctor Who convention the same day you met he who must not be named. She was there with Kevin, but they broke up a while ago. The realization that you could go to Penny’s couldn’t have come at a better time. Ha. Penny. You only call her that when you’re drunk. She’ll know what to do. You opened your phone, barely able to call up the Lyft to take you to her apartment. It’s honestly shocking you didn’t fall asleep on the seven minute drive there. Whatever, all you needed now was to get inside and forget about him.

 After entering the building, you tried the elevator. Of course it was broken. It took you about thirty six minutes to hobble your way up two flights of stairs to Penny’s floor. With each step, you considered texting her to come get you, but you knew the second you saw her you would break down. You absolutely did not want to start sobbing on these stairs. Too many people could see you. Finally arriving to her door, you were exhausted. Mentally and physically drained. Knock knock knock “Penny?” Knock knock knock “Penny?” Knock knock knock “Penny?” you imitated the Big Bang Theory, knowing the small joke would make you smile, even if just for a second. When the door finally opened, you vaulted in for a hug, not even opening your eyes.

 As you squeezed Penny, you finally broke out into a fit of sobs. Whisper yelling, you told her as much of the story as you could remember. “Penny, thank god. I left wo-ork early to surprise Dr-Dr-Drew for our anniversary – hiccup – but he was having s-s-se-sex with someone else…” you let out a strangled sob, not noticing how stiff Penny felt in your embrace. You buried your head into her as you continued “So I got very drunk and came here. Was he cheating on me this whole time?” You asked as your tears turned back to rage. “I even went out and bought this stupid, uncomfortable underwear to surprise him” you shout as your coat had begun to fall open again. After what felt like an hour of crying, but in reality amounted to no more than 60 seconds, you finally noticed something was odd. Two things lead you to a simple conclusion that was somehow difficult to comprehend in your drunk state.

 First, Penny felt taller. Second, she was wearing converse. Upon noticing these two facts, your hands traveled up the body you were hugging until you found shoulders. Turning your head up, your eyes followed the path your hands had just taken. This series of events lead to the obvious fact that whomever you were hugging was absolutely not Penelope Garcia. Penelope was in fact not even in the foyer, but rather a very attractive, tall man with slightly curly brown hair and eyes like honey was staring back at you. And you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

 --

Reid’s POV

 Spencer hadn’t actually had anything to drink since arriving at Garcia’s. No, he just drank prior to that point. Normally, he didn’t drink at all when his team got together, but this was just worth celebrating. Another serial killer was behind bars for life because of the work the team did today. Hell, even Hotch and Rossi stayed for a few hours before they left. As part of the “young crowd” on the team, he had stayed at the bar longer than the two older men before the group of you retreated to Garcia’s. Hers was the closest apartment, and everyone else wanted to keep the party going. Spencer couldn’t help but join them, not wanting to return to his empty apartment after the long day they all spent testifying.

 Finishing his second glass of water, he began to get up to get more and maybe some for the group when everyone heard the knocking. The group laughed as three consecutive “Penny’s” came from the door. “Reid, can you get that since you’re already up?” Garcia asked, motioning toward the door. “It must be Y/N. She always calls me Penny when she’s drunk.” He obliged. He obviously remembered Garcia mentioning Y/N before, but he had never met her. He swung the door open, expecting a drunk friend of Garcia’s. He was not prepared, however, for said drunk friend to throw herself at him, grasp him in an alarmingly tight hug, and start sobbing. He could barely make out what you were saying through the sobs hearing “surprise Drew”, “anniversary”, “sex”, and “drunk” before you practically screamed “I even went out and bought this stupid, uncomfortable underwear to surprise him.”

 It was clear you meant to be pouring her heart out to Garcia, but you hadn’t yet realized who answered the door. For the first time in his life, Dr. Spencer Reid couldn’t think of words to say as you ran your hands up his body to his shoulders. You were clearly taking in the information required to come to the conclusion that he is not in fact Penelope Garcia. As your eyes met his, all he could do was stare. He made every effort to keep his eyes level with yours, but one glace was all it took to be ingrained in his memory forever. He wouldn’t have looked, but the movement of your coat caught his eye as it revealed the exact type of surprise you had planned for whoever Drew was.

 The two of you were frozen, unsure of how to proceed. You looked just like he did- a deer in the headlights. Neither of you could move. Neither of you could speak. You could both hear Garcia’s voice as she stumbled down the hallway, but it sounded distant. It wasn’t until the mystery woman broke eye contact that he backed away. Trying desperately to control the blush he were sure had made its way to his cheeks.

 --

 Y/N’s POV

 The moment was broken as you felt Penny turn you towards her. The flush on your cheeks only grew as you kept your eyes on the tall man as he retreated into the living room, not having said a word. “Y/N… Y/N? Y/N!” Penny had to yell slightly to get your attention. “What happened? What are you doing here? I thought you were celebrating tonight?” She asked rapid fire. You could tell she was also a little bit drunk.

 You told her everything. The words practically falling out of you as you started crying again. “Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Here, let’s get you inside.” Penny started to guide you into the living room, but you froze “Wait! Can I borrow some clothes before I go in there? I don’t need to flash anyone else right now.” You whispered. Penny laughed, “Of course! Who did you fla- ohhh. Reid.” She said, trying to hold back the giggles.

 “Yes. If that is the very tall man with the perfect eyes and the completely tuggable hair.” You responded, not quite filtering your thoughts, as you were still very drunk.

 “I’ll be back in a jiffy!” Penny replied, not knowing how else to respond to the fact that you are very clearly attracted to the young doctor, but also going through shit right now. She would just file away this information for later.

taglist:

@mac99martin​ 

[jett-dawson]

BELLA ARC

The Rule

the rule states that any student who takes pictures of student work at rainbow high well experience an immediate expulsion. why does this only apply to bella? why not violet or karma, or anyone else who has pulled out their phones to take photos of things on campus? sounds like double standards to me.

the rule is dumb. especially since the students LIVE and WOR at rainbow high 24/7. they have a right to their work. the rule is dumb and is definitely a form of symbolism. i have seen this theory go around the fandom before & i have even addressed this theory before. i will address it again. stay tuned in the next slides for more on that.

The Timeline

we all knew bella was gonna get kicked out. whether or not we wanted it to happen, it was heavily implied in episode one that someone in the runway group was going to get kicked out. bella was the odd one out. she’s not in the wave one lineup, she’s not a part of the actual rainbow, and she was (more or less) a surprise to us when first seeing teasers for episode one. after that, the series of events through the first episodes had absolutely nothing to do with bella’s expulsion. there was no lead up! it was very sudden and the rule was very new to us. never was this rule stated before.

while i hate that it was written like this, i think i may know a meaning. this is a kids show. we are consuming children’s media. there is absolutely nothing wrong with that & anyone of any age is free and welcome to enjoy kids cartoons. what we have to understand is that this media isn’t exactly targeted towards us. i’m sure MGA, the company, is aware of us older fans. they use social media for that matter. that is where you find older fans. so that is where they get direct feedback from us. anyway... this show is obviously targeted towards a younger audience. if they were to extend the plot line, younger kids may not catch onto a lot of stuff that us older fans would. that’s not necessarily bad, but it doesn’t seem to be what the writers want. they write with simplicity, while still keeping in mind of laying out specific things in the show for specific reasons. so this sequence of events was written for younger kids to understand. bella was written & planned to be kicked out from the very beginning. kids may not have known this. so they introduced a rule that was unheard of so they have a reason to kick out bella. do i agree with this method? no. absolutely not. do i think they could’ve done better in finding a way to kick bella out? yes. absolutely. but younger kids will look at this and see that Bella broke a rule. Bella got kicked out. simple as that.

Symbolism

there have been theories that have gone around the fandom on the symbolism behind bella’s arc. her character, removal, and replacement all seem to line up with a real life sequence of events. allow me to explain.

bella is definitely a reference to barbie. her shirt is a direct take on a barbie shirt we have seen before. her character/personality is almost a lot like barbie if you think of it. if you’re into dolls and you’re into the community, you will know that Barbie/Mattel is MGA’s main rival. they have been going at it for years. constantly trying to dominate each other. MGA has made it very clear that they do not like Mattel. the creator of rainbow high himself stated that he “respects” barbie but believes it is time for her to leave the shelves and retire. it’s time for something new, something fresh, something modern.

think of it in the rainbow high timeline. bella(barbie/mattel) is living in this world of rainbow high(mga). the creator of bratz created the bratz concept while technically working for mattel. it just so happened that he was on leave. he took the idea over to mga and they went with it. mattel got mad, claiming the work as their own.

the rule of rainbow high can be related to this. whatever work is made at rainbow high stays at rainbow high. if any third party gets involved then you are due to immediate expulsion. this just so happened to bella.

bella/barbie was working on something she wanted to take to an outside source. rainbow high said no. this is our work. bella/barbie took it outside anyway resulting in an expulsion. bella is pink. pink is not part of the initial lineup. she reached the end of her rainbow.

amaya comes in. amaya resembling all things rainbow high. amaya the main character. she is the embodiment of rainbow. her character revolves around everhthing this company has preached for rainbow high. she is new. she is fresh. she is modern. she replaced bella. (no, i do not blame amaya for any of this. amaya is a whole other story)

barbie is flopping. barbie is not doing well. mga wants to take barbie down. mga is dominating the toy isle. they have created many successful lines and will probably continue to do so for awhile. bella is barbie. amaya is mga. amaya took over. mga took over.

Bella Herself

now i do not blame bella one bit for going and doing what she did. yes, she broke a rule. whether or not the rule is stupid, she did it. and she got what she asked for.

but you have to keep in mind who she is. bella is a young girl, age 14/15. at that age... i, too, would’ve done just about anything to work with my idol. someone i admired so much has practically thrown out an opportunity that i’m positive i could win. i would most definitely go for it. and bella did. but the problem was taking a picture. bella is known to be impulsive. we can see this in several different episodes where she wanted to complete the tasks given to her and to help her friends complete theirs. even though jade did her very best to persuade bella not to do it, bella chose to. she consciously chose to. now what i think a lot of people haven’t realized is that bella literally pulled nearly 2 all nighters contemplating on what to do. the first night she stayed up thinking about the internship and making the set. the other night she spent running around the school with jade and taking the photo of the art. this poor girl must’ve been tired. she was conflicted. do you risk your dream school and everything that comes along with it for a summer internship? or do you wait for another opportunity that could possibly never come again? if bella were older and more matured, i’m sure she wouldn’t have done it. but she is young. and she has learned from this experience.

unfortunately... she was expelled on the spot without any warning. we still haven’t gotten any closure on who saw her sneak the picture. that’s very suspicious but then again... it’s probably just poor writing. but with what we can assume, they probably involved bella’s space & privacy to get that information. anyway. bella had no bad behaviour whatsoever prior to this situation. rainbow high is a hard school. they are very tough on their students. they gave bella no chances. she didn’t even have much time to process it, pack her things and properly say goodbye to her friends. it all happened so fast. she said it herself... “i cant believe this is happening” yeah me either

as for the teachers... yes. they are doing their jobs. i have seen this point being made several times and i agree! technically they are! but RH is lowkey a messed up school system. they pressure their students day in and day out to be the very best and do the very best. i get why, but it’s to the point these students are sleep deprived. staying up all night to do assignments and have escape rooms. having to start class five minutes after completing night assignments. so much to the point that jade’s response to the question “what will u so if u pass the runway project?” in Violet’s AMA was “SLEEP!” this school is messed up. working like a big company and claiming these poor students hard work as their own is mean. and these teachers support it by working at this school. they may be doing their job, but they’re allowing this poor situation by being a part of it. this can be related to REAL life in places like media and the music industry. i have little knowledge on it, but you can compare it to the situation with Taylor Swift and how she technically doesn’t own a bunch of the music that she made. i believe it has to do with legal matters, and if i remember correctly something she got involved with when she was only young. yeah. theres that thing again. getting involved when you are only young. same with bella. there’s a direct correlation and that’s where i believe that type of symbolism could potentially come in to play.

this opportunity that was given to bella was life changing. and it was a SUMMER internship. SUMMER. if RH operates anything like schools IRL, they’d have to give their students a summer break. why was it so major to them when bella could still work for.. i mean attend to rainbow high all year then take the summer of for the internship. something that rainbow high could’ve looked good for having!

again, if RH operates anything like an IRL school, schools often pay attention to their students and outside opportunities. opportunities that boost the students status. the better the students, the better the school. with this high-end, once in a lifetime opportunity, bella could’ve gotten it and not only done better for herself but better for rainbow high itself.

bella knows what she did. and i know she realizes the consequences, especially now. but this poor girl has suffered through so much. all for this drama to her exploited on a very popular & very exclusive drama channel.. the vi life. but no way in heck was any of that fair.

Amaya Raine

i don’t wanna dwell too much on this one since i haven’t really seen much drama about it lately and i’ve already said enough before. but amaya is definitely not to blame. she had absolutely nothing to do with bella’s expulsion as far as we know. i remember there being fan theories that she would be the one who had found a way to tattle on bella, securing her own spot at rainbow high. as far as we know, this is not true.

amaya had been wait listed for her dream school. it’s lucky but kind of underwhelming. so the moment she got the call that she finally had a spot in RH, she was beyond excited, not knowing what was ahead of her. oh, yeah, btw, not gonna ignore the fact that they secure a spot for amaya THE SAME NIGHT bella took a photo of the artwork, not knowing she was gonna be caught and then expelled. in her mind, she was positive she wasn’t caught and wasn’t gonna get in trouble. it’s the fact the staff was very prepared for this all under 24hrs.

anyway. amaya was already hella nervous. she seems to be an anxious person and was definitely wanting to make the best first impression. heck, she even made her own outfit so she could stand out! but unfortunately to her surprise, she was greeted with a bunch of frowns and a few dirty looks. she was forced into this situation with absolutely no warning and had to put up with everyone disliking her at first (except our favourite ray of sunshine, our mutual blue bby & our drama chasing diva)

so it’s unfair for amaya to be blamed for all of this when she didn’t even know. yeah, i am sad that jade was viewing her so wrongly. but i cannot blame jade. jade is sorta stubborn and obviously struggles with major change. she lost the one she was closest to and suddenly was forced to adjust to this new girl who took bella’s place. if i were as cold of a person as jade, i’d have that exact same reaction. she didn’t wanna believe bella was gone. she didn’t want to experience this change. she didn’t bully amaya, thank goodness. she just paid little to no mind to her. of course she threw her a couple angry looks and was very brief with her whenever she spoke. but eventually they made up. no one was bullied, no one is mad.

FINAL COMMENT THEN I AM DONE

yea ok if you bully me or anyone else for simply digging into RH lore then you can leave. or i’ll just block of that’s easier for you. some of u only watch at surface level and that is okay! if that’s what you enjoy, k. cool. you do you.

some of us dont watch at surface level and that is also very very okay. some of us want to get as much as possible out of rainbow high, given the circumstances. so we dig into it more than others might. some of us try to find the symbolism or pick up on tiny details that had gone by unnoticed. some of us go as far as redesigning the characters and reimagining their personalities and life at rainbow high. creating fun headcanons and making cool associations. just don’t bully people who do that. don’t get mad at us and tell us “getting too deep into this is worthless” “you’re not gonna get a job in life if you sit and defend a character all day”

news flash, it is some people’s literal jobs to read pieces of art and media and analyze it. english majors literally do this exact thing. heck, it may be more complex than this. but anyway. stop telling people that. can we normalize enjoying this without being insulted for it??? if you don’t wanna enjoy the episodes then okay. cool. you do that. i’ll go analyze my favourite characters and enjoy as much of the show as i can because i find enjoyment in this <33

[shadowturtlesstuff]

You are in love

cressworth modern au, based on you are in love-taylor swift for thomas’s birthday

i have dress from audrey rose’s perspective written but not fully edited yet so i’m still working on that as well as the asks but they should be done soon. enjoy!

I wake early, sliding out of bed so I do not disturb Thomas or our cat. I quickly put on one of Thomas's jumpers and made my way into the kitchen. He had mentioned a few months back that his birthday usually went uncelebrated by his family, and since I had met him a month after his birthday last year and that he'd made my own incredibly special, I have been planning to return the sentiment all month. 

I pour myself a coffee as Sir Isaac jumps onto the counter, purring at me for food. Dacina and Illeana will be arriving back in London soon, my own family should be waking up soon and preparing for tonight. A few of our friends will come too, as will our cat. I’m sure if I didn't bring Sir Isaac with us Thomas would make us go back home to pick up ‘our son’. Which means I have a few hours with Thomas all to myself before we spoil him rotten at the party. 

“Audrey Rose?” I hear Thomas call from our bedroom, tiredness lacing his words. We’d stayed up late watching films together, then Thomas had read to me, one of his romance novels, then we'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. I was blissfully content to stay there all day if I didn't have to ensure everything would be set up right for his party. 

Thomas still struggled opening up to people other than me, and he struggled to believe he was a good person worthy of any love. Some days were better, but I found him with a strange look on his face sometimes whilst he looked at me. It was normally when I was doing such a mundane task, or something ridiculous, but I'd always catch him with such a vulnerable face it made my heart melt. And made me kiss him to try and convince him how much I loved him.

“In here!” I shout back, pouring myself coffee and then dealing with Sir Isaac. I heard Thomas move, slowly making his way to the kitchen. I check the time on my phone, and the message from Dacina saying they are at the airport. He hasn't seen his sister in a few years, she's been travelling the world as a private investigator with her girlfriend, and I know how much he misses her. 

I turn to find Thomas on the stool, his messy hair and tired face making him appear so much younger than he is and also utterly adorable. His messy hair is my favourite look. I reach to press a kiss to his temple. Thomas isn't a morning person, he prefers keeping me locked in his arms until we have to get up so we aren't late for work. “Why are we up so early?” he complains, taking my hand in his. He narrows his eyes at me slightly. “You planned something didn't you?” he sighs at my smirk. I'm surprised he didn't figure out anything sooner.

“Of course I did. But before we do anything, what would you like for breakfast?”

“Wadsworth, do we need to be awake now or is it whatever you've planned occurring later tonight?”

“Tonight but-”

He stands and wraps his arms around my waist, burying his head in the crook of my neck. He whines for emphasis and I can't help laughing at his dramatic nature. We stand for a minute, him holding me and me stealing his warmth until he pulls back and attempts to drag me back to bed. 

“Do you not want your gifts?” This makes him stop slightly and face me. 

“You got me something?”

“Many things. Some for now, some for the event later.” 

His curiosity gets the better of him and he sits back down.  Sir Issac jumps onto his lap, purring. I have two gifts planned for now, and two for the party. Panic flows through me at the thought he won't like them, but it is too late to change them. I slid the box to him that was hidden in one of our kitchen counters. He smiles warmly at me, I can tell by the sad look in his eye he is wondering why I'm going through all the effort as he messes with the ribbon. 

“Open it then Thomas.” Slowly he pulls the ribbon. He refuses to meet my eyes, and he hesitates in opening it. “I love you Thomas. More than I can comprehend. When I look at you, or think about you, my fears ebb away, the ghosts that haunt me leave.”

He opens the lid, looks at the gifts. I got him a notebook and a sketchbook as well as a novel. I'd contemplated what would mean the most to Thomas, what he loved and what he needed. We both work for my uncle as morticians, so a notebook is always useful but I want him to use it for himself. And the sketchbook was something that screamed something Thomas would adore. It was black with little roses hidden on the cover. He ran his finger over them. I'd always loved watching Thomas draw, he was incredibly talented but he rarely drew anything for himself. 

The novel was his favourite book. I'd managed to get a special edition of it, and I’d written inside the cover pages. Whilst I preferred reading autonomy books or science books, Thomas preferred romance novels. We've formed this new habit of him reading them to me before bed, or him talking to me about the book over breakfast. He'd tried to get me to read this book on my own for ages, so I finally gave in. I cried when I finished it. I understood why Thomas loved it. He saw himself in the main character, this perceived monster without feeling, when all along he was seeking acceptance. So I knew that this would mean alot to him. To us. 

The silence clung to the air, but despite my heart racing fast I could feel Thomas's love radiating off him as he picked up the book. Opening it I held my breath as I watched him read what I wrote. As I watched a tear slide down his cheek. His eyes found mine once he finished and he smiled at me. “You are my best friend Wadswoth. I hope you never forget that fact.” His voice is no more than a whisper as he sets the book down, walks around the island and envelopes in a tight hug. As he held me I understood why people went crazy when in love. The feeling of having someone you loved loving you just as fiercely was intoxicating. It meant more than anything else. So I held him tightly even as sir Issac tried to break us up because we weren't giving him attention. 

Eventually Thomas let go of me to rub Sir Isaac's head. “You aren't going to make me cry like that tonight are you?” He half teases whilst beginning to make his own coffee. I take his place stroking our cat as I tell him he needn't worry about my other gifts. Most of them were sweet treats and a few other books.

“Very well.” was all he replied with. Silence washes over us as we go about our daily routine. We steal kisses as we make breakfast, working around each other perfectly in our small kitchen. The rest of the day passes much the same. I do some research on our latest case as well as keep in contact with those attending the party and setting it up. Thomas is somewhere else in the flat, most likely reading. 

When we have an hour before the party I pack away my things and find Thomas in the living room, his sketchbook in his lap. I peek over his shoulder and find that he has drawn me. Drawn me buried in my work, my hair in a messy bun and spilling over my face. His hoodie drowned me and my hand rested on my cup of coffee as I read something. Despite the chaos of my work I look peaceful. I gasp slightly at the details and he looks over his shoulder at me. 

“Wadsworth. I didn't know what to start with so I drew my favourite thing.” He smiles at me and gestures for me to come sit next to him. He turns a page and shows me smaller drawings, some of me, some of us both. They are all perfectly drawn. I take his hand in mine and place a small kiss before taking the book of him to look closely at them. 

There is one of me in a long pink summer dress, one we had taken the day we rescued Sir Issac. We’d been walking through the park, discussing our case when we heard him. He'd been lying with an injured leg, no collar or any way to find the owner. So we took him to the vet and later kept him. Then there was another one of me reading something, one of me cooking, reaching into the cupboards to find something with a bright smile on my face. There is one of us both lying in bed, me sticking my tongue out at the camera and him laughing at me. I didn't know when he took half these photos but I'd never felt happier as I looked up at him, his eyes hesitant at my reaction. I felt a tear run down my cheek and I looked back down at the drawings.

I hear Thomas tell me to look up and when I don't I feel his hand gently on my chin and lift me. I'm all too aware of how close we are, our shoulders brush against each other and all I feel is such love for this wonderful man. “I picked some of my favourite days, and some of the times that looked real. I love watching you do some tedious task, because you make it enjoyable somehow.”

“Which is your favorite?” my voice is barely above a whisper.

“This,” he says pointing to the one of us in bed. “You were drunk that night-”

“I was not!” 

“You were,” he laughs at the memory, “I tucked you into bed but you made me hold you, then decided we needed to do something. So I took some photos of us, you with the most absurd faces, but there's one where I'm looking at you and you can see something in me clicked. I'd realised I loved you so much that night and that I'd do anything to prove it to you.” 

He wiped the tear, caressing my cheek as he planted a kiss on my lips. 

“Will you teach me?” I ask because I'm utterly terrible at drawing, at most creative things. 

“Of course. I'm guessing you came to tell me we have to get ready?”

“Yeah.”

We dress, order a taxi and make our way to the party. Were greeted by my uncle who hands Thomas a set of scalpels, then my father who shakes his hand and laughs with him. It is still so bizarre at how friendly they were. My cousin wraps me in a tight hug and slowly the party develops. Dacian and Illeana get here slightly late but make up for it by telling us tales of our adventure. I leave Thomas to catch up with his sister and find Liza at the buffet, Sir Isaac poking her leg to try and get her to give him food. I roll my eyes at him. Thomas is a terrible role model. 

“Sorry about our little beast, he is so much like Thomas the pest.” I pick up our cat and stroke him behind the ears and he purrs loudly. Liza laughs at me. “How are you?” I ask. It's been months since we saw each other. Last I heard she was part of a magic group of sorts and her mother hated it. But she was happy so at some point I would bring Thomas to see one of her shows. 

“I'm good, me and Harry are, well. He's an ass but that's a story for another time. Will you and the birthday boy be dancing tonight? I'm sure Thomas would love being the center of attention like that.” He would, very much so. There were a few couples dancing, I looked towards the floor and found that Illeana and Dacina were there so I tried to find Thomas. He hasn't moved from our table but had his sketchbook out, staring intensely at it. 

“We might. And you must tell me about what has happened with Harry. Perhaps sometime this week we can go for tea?” 

Sir Isaac jumps from my arms, seemingly bored so Liza takes that opportunity to wrap me in another hug. 

“Yes, I love that.” She tells me before walking off to find aunt Amelia. So I pile a bunch of sweets onto my plate and make my way back to Thomas. 

“You are meant to socialise at parties Thomas.” I say as a way of greeting. I set the plate before him and he smiles brightly at all the sugary treats. 

“Right, yes, sorry I'll finish this later.” I go to steal a peek at what he's drawing but he closes it too fast and tells me it's a surprise. “Dance with me Wadsworth.” he stands holding his arm out. We make our way onto the dance floor and I spot Liza beaming at me, getting her phone out to record us probably. Her hopelessly romantic heart means she likes to capture moments between Thomas and I. Something she has in common with Thomas apparently. 

We start dancing slowly, his arms around my waist, making small circles as we spin. “Will you tell me what you were drawing or do I have to wait?”

“You obviously. You look devastatingly beautiful tonight. Your dress is perfect. I had to.” He says such matters of factly that it makes me laugh. I would very much like to draw Thomas, to be able to be half as talented as him. The dress I'm wearing is a midnight blue, matching his own suit. It rested over my shoulders, falling into a tight waist and flowing at the knees so when Thomas spun me it wrapped around me. 

“Happy birthday Thomas.” His smile in return is better than anything I've seen before, it is so genuine and full of love that I stop dancing for just a second so I can always remember it. The music turns to silence for me as we continue to spin, all I can think about it Thomas. I steal a kiss and we remain dancing in silence, words not needed to convey our feelings.

@city-of-fae @fangirling-again @padfoot-sirius-black @fandomtakeover@purplecreatorhorsewagon @throneoftsc @the-hoofflepooff @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @boredbookwormgirl @loveyatopluto @lovecakeandmore

[mxndoscyarika]

Folklore series: cardigan (Marcus Pike x fem!reader)

Author’s note: Whaaat? Two pieces of writing posted on two consecutive days? Yep, that’s what happens when I have Feelings 😭 I know you guys loved the Marcus fic, so I thought I’d slip a little bit of our favorite FBI agent into this series 👀 Keep in mind that most of these stories will be separate entities; they’re not in the same universe! I hope you guys like itttt ❤️

Summary: You and Marcus fit together like puzzle pieces; taken apart, jumbled up in life, but ultimately reunited.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

< previous song | next song >

Warning(s): prom, breakups, mention of Lisbon

Song: cardigan by Taylor Swift (Folklore)

---A friend to all is a friend to none

Chase two girls, lose the one

When you are young they assume you know nothing---

“Y/N? Can I ask you something?”

You looked up from your book at your best friend, Marcus. “Yeah, what do you need?”

He sat down, wringing his hands. Smiling bashfully, he said quietly, “It, uh, has to do with prom.”

At that, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. Looking away, you responded, “What about it?”

“There’s this girl I’ve been meaning to ask to go with me…” Your heart raced in your chest. Although you never made a big deal out of your high school’s prom, deep down you wanted to go. Or at least to be asked. To be thought of for such an important milestone in the American lifestyle.

Marcus was your best friend—and a guy, no less—so part of you wished that he’d pick you. That he’d bring you flowers and a poster asking you to be his date to the prom. To a night full of dancing and dressing up and simply having fun.

It was safe to say that you thought of him as more than just a friend. There was just something about you and him that fit together so well, like your favorite cardigan that you’d worn over and over until you couldn’t wear it in public anymore.

“I was thinking of asking Ashley to be my date,” he started, a blush on his cheeks. You wished it was for you. “Do you think I have a chance? How should I ask her?”

Trying to hide your disappointment, you forced yourself to smile for him. Of course it wouldn’t be you. Why would it, when he could have any girl he wanted? He was thoughtful, smart, exceedingly polite, and just….everything. Your childhood summers, weekends filled with games of hide-and-seek. “You should do whatever you think is best, Marcus. She’s a lucky girl, to have you asking her out.”

“But how, exactly?” he asked. Your knees touched as he turned towards you. “I want to make her feel special, even if she says no.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. Frankly, you barely knew her. She wasn’t in any of your classes, only Marcus’s. Which also meant everything you knew was told to you by him. “It depends on what she likes. Some girls want flowers and a poster, others might want to be serenaded or surprised at home.”

“Well, what about you?” he wondered, nudging you with his elbow. “How would Y/N L/N like to be asked to prom?”

Your heart clenched at his soft voice. If only he knew. “Honestly? It wouldn’t matter if it was someone I wanted to go with.” Realizing you might’ve just invited him to ask more questions about your prom journey, you added, “But flowers would be nice. Especially if they were my favorite. But I guess only you would know what they are.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Well, I’m sure someone will get you flowers. Anyone would be lucky to be your date.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you muttered, playing with a stray thread on your shirt.

If anyone would be lucky to take you to prom, why wasn’t Marcus asking you to be his date?

It was summer when your heart was broken.

“I just don’t understand.”

Marcus held you close and laid back against the pillows, his hands slipping under your sweatshirt to rub your back. The warmth of his embrace and the soft murmur of his voice was enough to soothe your sobs into hiccups. Squeezing your eyes shut, you hugged him tighter and buried your face against his neck.

“That guy is an idiot,” he said, his hand resting against your lower back. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. And you know what? He doesn’t deserve to know.”

You’d thought everything was going well. He’d been so nice, so accepting. Your parents loved him, though you knew they preferred your best friend.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” you contemplated, your hands gripping the back of his shirt. The cotton fabric was soft beneath your fingertips. “We’re going off to college in a few months anyways. It would’ve ended sooner or later.”

“Not necessarily,” Marcus murmured. “Relationships can survive through a distance if the two people love each other enough to put in the work.” His eyes lit up as he thought of something. “Can you sit up for a second? I think I know something that will help you feel better.”

Wordlessly, you pushed yourself into a sitting position. You watched as your best friend in the entire world slid off your bed and slid your closet door open. If he were anyone else, you’d tell them to stop. But this was your Marcus, your best friend. You’d let him do anything.

“Where is it?” he muttered to himself as he sorted through your hanging clothes. Just as he turned to ask you, he spotted the worn fabric in a pile under your bed, the edge sticking out just enough to be noticed. “Ah, there it is.”

Plucking the old cardigan from its spot on the floor, he said, “This should do the trick.”

You couldn’t help giving him a little smile as he draped it around your shoulders before sliding back onto the bed and pulling you into his arms. For a moment, as you laid your head on his chest, you let yourself imagine an alternate reality where you and he were together.

“Thank you.”

---

“Sorry,” you muttered as you squeezed past the lady and her shopping cart that was in the middle of the aisle. Ignoring the annoyed look she gave you, you walked out towards the checkout lines.

You heard a breathy, familiar laugh, making you stop as you placed your groceries on the conveyor belt. It had been years since you heard that laugh. But as you looked around you, there was no sign of him.

Eventually, you and Marcus had split up to go to college, promising to stay in touch. Despite your best efforts, school, relationships, and work took over every aspect of your lives, leaving little room to catch up. Sure, you saw each other’s posts on Facebook, but it wasn’t the same.

Not that it should’ve mattered. People can change and fall out of friendships, you tried to convince yourself. You certainly didn’t stay in touch with some of your friends from college, why should you expect Marcus to make you an exception?

Last you heard, he’d been dating a coworker: Teresa Lisbon. Unable to stop yourself, you’d searched up her profile on Facebook, scrolling through her posts.

They seemed happy. And you were happy for him.

At least one of you was getting a happy ending.

Throughout college and the time after graduating, you’d tried to squash your feelings for him with other relationships. But no matter how nice the person was, they never made you feel as warm and safe as Marcus did. They didn’t understand your quirky habits and didn’t know how to care for you when the weight of existence crushed you. They didn’t know you had a favorite piece of clothing that you kept perpetually stowed away in a box with your high school graduation gown and cap.

They weren’t Marcus.

Part of you wished you had told him about your feelings before he’d left, just so you could have some peace of mind. Nothing would’ve changed; you still would’ve parted ways and gone down your separate paths, but you wondered if anything could have changed. Would he have told you he felt the same? That he cherished those weekends just as much as you did?

As you pulled up to your parent’s house, you noticed an unfamiliar car parked on the driveway. You frowned. Your parents hadn’t told you they were inviting people over.

There was a man standing at the front door talking to your parents, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine. He was dressed in a suit and had his hands in his pockets, head dipped slightly.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re back already?” your mom asked, smiling. She held out her hands for the bags as you slipped past the man.

Passing them to her, you replied, “Traffic wasn’t too bad and I remembered where everything was. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here.”

“Y/N?”

You froze, still facing towards the inside of the house. It couldn’t be him. He was working for the government and had a fiancee. Why would he come home without her? Without Lisbon?

A part of you wanted to cry as you turned to look at Marcus. Your parents took that as their signal to leave, letting you and Marcus navigate the situation on your own. As a team.

“Marcus,” you greeted, smiling softly. Crossing your arms, you asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, chuckling softly. His eyes still twinkled when he laughed, though now the corners crinkled adorably. Although years had passed, and now he bore a scruffy beard, he still looked as handsome as ever. Softly, he said, “It’s been a long time.”

Nodding, you replied, “Yeah, it has been.” You gestured towards him. “I mean, look at you. You’re wearing a suit and tie, you grew a beard, are engaged...A lot of things have changed.”

The smile on his face faded when you mentioned his engagement. “Actually, I’m not engaged anymore.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh...I didn’t know-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured, shaking his head. Though by the way his voice dropped and his eyes glistened, you knew he was still hurting. “It just...wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. As if you were moving on instinct, you stepped towards him and pulled him into a hug. A wave of emotions crashed over you as his scent of sandalwood and musk enveloped you. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, as if you’d never left each other. “Do you want to come in?”

“Would you mind?” he asked, his voice like velvet.

Slipping your hands into his, you tugged him into the house. “You’re always welcome, Marcus.”

---And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone’s bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite---

Tagging:

Permanent taglist: @cinewhore @randomness501 @pedropascalisadilf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @catfishingmorales @halfwaythereroyal @fioccodineveautunnale @talesfromtheguild @tortles @ladamari68 @theokatcov @snivellusim @starryluce @inked-poet @this-cat-is-dea @shewritesandplants @chews-erotically @thefandomimagines @emesispo​ @mindless--ramblings

Folklore series taglist: @cryptkeepersoul​...and @agentpike​, because I feel like it would be illegal to NOT tag the biggest Marcus stan of all 😂

Let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist!

[beca-mitchell]

i've never been a natural (all i do is try) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe, Aubrey, and what it means to be loved over their years together at Barden. References to side-Bechloe.

This is for @snowbritt who donated in support of @ppfandomdrive. ❤️  Your prompt was "chaubrey + smangst".

Fic title from "mirrorball" by Taylor Swift, which somehow encapsulates what I feel about Aubrey's character through PP1 and PP2 and some of PP3. Stream folklore.

Word count: 4,442

Rated M/E for some smut.

Read below or read on AO3.

* * * * *

to be forgiven 

Aubrey knows what love is. Or at least—conceptually, she knows what it means in all the usual ways: being cared for, having somebody be there emotionally and physically, maybe even a serenade here and there.

Aubrey doesn’t even necessarily have high expectations, just expectations. Simple, mundane expectations because it’s what she’s been told all her life. It’s what has been instilled in her: standards, rigidity, obedience, and expectations.

And she has to live up to every one of those things or face the consequences.

She senses Chloe before she hears her adjusting into the seat next to her.

“I messed up the solo, I deserve whatever’s coming,” Aubrey says, primly adjusting her uniform collar.

“Aubrey, you didn’t mess up,” Chloe says gently. 

Gentle. That’s something that Chloe has about her. It makes Aubrey envious, really, but she has no time for that. Any of that. The feelings, the envy, the gentleness.

Gentleness never got anybody anywhere.

That being said, meeting Chloe on the first day of Bellas rehearsals had been both the worst and best experience of Aubrey’s freshman year.

Scratch that. Perhaps it’s this. Or what had transpired not too long ago. A few short moments ago.

“I...I missed my cue for my solo—the solo I had to beg for. Posens don’t beg.”

Chloe shrugs. “I didn’t notice if you messed up.”

“Alice definitely noticed.”

“So?”

Aubrey doesn’t dare twist so she can face Chloe fully. The auditorium has since emptied and they are the only two, sitting right in the middle of the orchestra seating. She doesn’t want to see whatever sympathy flashes across Chloe’s face. It’s not like they’re friends, not really.

“I noticed,” Aubrey finally says quietly. A Posen would notice.

“I thought you sounded really good,” Chloe informs her. “Your voice is pretty.”

Aubrey glances up at Chloe, somewhat intimidated by the startling clear blue eyes gazing back at her without an ounce of sympathy. Simply understanding and a kindness that Aubrey has seen so rarely in her life.

“Thank you,” she manages. “But...the competition. Our performance…” She isn’t sure where she’s going with this, only that she failed and it is odd that Chloe isn’t even acknowledging that.

“I thought we sounded great. It was your first solo, Aubrey! You did amazing.”

The nauseating feeling lessens ever so slightly. “You did?”

“And so what if you think you messed up? You were so brave for taking that solo.”

There is no hint of deceit in Chloe’s eyes. Aubrey isn’t sure Chloe could be deceitful even if she tried.

“Thank you,” she whispers, allowing Chloe to reach out and hold her hand.

It is nice, knowing that she can still be a success in somebody’s eyes. It is nice, knowing that the sensation of Chloe holding her hand isn’t conditioned on her successes of failures.

Just the two of them, sitting in an empty auditorium and nowhere else to be.

 * * * * *

 to be cherished

When Aubrey breaks up with Howie near the end of her sophomore at Barden, she finds herself storming up to Chloe’s apartment—Chloe who hadn’t been lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to secure a spot in the Bella’s House—and breaking down in ways that would have made her parents recoil.

“That’s it,” Chloe announces after only five minutes of moping. Or at least, Aubrey’s version of moping: voraciously stuffing Chloe’s homemade cookies into her mouth. “We’re going out tonight.”

“Why?” Aubrey asks shortly. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

“You need to get over him,” Chloe responds, tugging the plate of cookies away from Aubrey’s grasp. “I know just the cure.”

“I don’t need to get over him. I already have.”

“I’m sure you have.” Chloe sighs from where she is wrapping the cookies in saran wrap. “He was a total dick to you anyway and you guys were going to break up. I’m shocked you guys didn’t break up weeks ago.”

Aubrey takes a moment to really assess her emotions on the matter. She finds that she is mostly shaken up that it wasn’t something she had anticipated. Not in the near future at least. She just kind of figured they’d kind of taper off and simply...exist in each other’s life. She hadn’t expected him to throw a wrench in her plans quite like that.

“Right,” she says slowly. “I suppose that’s where we were going anyway. I just...I’m not a fan of change, Chloe.”

Chloe reaches out to pull her hands up so they are standing in front of each other. “I know,” Chloe acknowledges quietly. “But you didn’t like him. And he treated you like crap. You deserve to be treated better.”

 * * * * *

 That’s how it starts without Aubrey even realizing what is happening until she is sitting across from Chloe at a nice restaurant, two weeks in a row.

This is, for all intents and purposes, Chloe treating her like a total queen.

On a date.

These are dates.

Aubrey can’t even bring herself to ask for fear of embarrassing herself in front of Chloe, even though she knows Chloe would never laugh at her or ridicule her. She has spilled so much to Chloe over the past couple of years. There is something incredibly deep and fulfilling about their friendship.

I could love you, Aubrey thinks.

At that moment, Chloe glances up at her, smiling at her through a mouthful of pasta. Her smile is playful and light, but her eyes are bright, shining with an emotion Aubrey can’t identify. Aubrey hates the notion of blurry lines—hates the idea that this could be something.

I could love you too, Chloe seems to say back. If you’d let me.

Chloe has always waited for Aubrey to make her moves—waited for Aubrey to open up. It would be, Aubrey thinks, fairly easy to let this transition into something more. But Chloe represents something so much deeper; something incredibly important to Aubrey that she doesn’t have the stomach to burrow into her own mind in order to figure out what.

“Are you going to eat your dinner?” Chloe asks, breaking Aubrey out of her solitude.

“Yeah. It’s...I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Oh. You know.”

Chloe hums, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she wraps her lips around her fork once more. “This is nice, y’know? You and me. Without the other Bellas.”

Aubrey doesn’t have the heart to tell Chloe that it is simply because they are so wildly disliked by the rest of the senior Bellas, being the only two juniors in the group. She doesn’t like it when Chloe is disheartened.

“You and me,” Aubrey echoes.

Chloe hums, something non-committal, but Aubrey doesn’t miss the way Chloe’s eyes cut to her very briefly before she gazes away again.

It is nice, saying that aloud, but Aubrey is afraid to say more because she doesn't understand the breadth of her own emotions. She can't even categorize what she's feeling, how could she possibility explain anything to Chloe?

 * * * * *

 Later, as Aubrey lies awake at night, she decides that she somewhat likes this state of in-between with Chloe. It doesn’t feel as daunting as she would have thought. Instead, it feels comfortable, knowing that Chloe and her seem to be on the same page, despite all the things left unspoken.

(She is wrong.)

 * * * * *

 to be desired

They aren’t dating. They probably never will. But this—this making out on and off—this is a new development.

It had started at a party a few weeks ago, under the shadow of drunkenness, tumbling into Chloe’s bed, arms around each other. A tangle of limbs. A mess, for all intents and purposes, but it hadn’t sent Aubrey running. Quite the opposite in fact.

And now...

“I’m—” Aubrey swallows the lump in her throat (categorically it feels like desire and panic all at once) as Chloe’s lips trail down her neck. “I’ve never done this with a girl before,” she whispers, clamping her mouth shut almost immediately after. It feels like admitting something is wrong with her—feels like admitting some kind of failure because after all, life is nothing but a binary of success and failure.

It is then that Chloe stops and ceases her ministrations to draw back and look at her with her brow furrowed. “I know,” she murmurs, sliding her hand down Aubrey’s jaw. “We talked about it,” Chloe continues, casually bringing up a conversation that been both freeing and mortifying for Aubrey. She had never known somebody like Chloe before—had never known a friend who would be so open and willing to share anecdotes about her own life without a care in the world.

Aubrey inhales shakily, willing her body to resist the temptation of Chloe’s lips against her skin, as pleasurable as ever. “No, wait—” Chloe draws back, sitting back on Aubrey’s thighs patiently at Aubrey’s protest. Somehow she manages to still look equal parts innocent and filthy with her eyes blown wide—innocently so in some respects—and with her hair in a complete disarray from Aubrey’s eager hands. Aubrey clenches her hands into her bedspread and sits up slightly to level herself with Chloe more. “I’ve just...also never really…” She clears her throat. “You know. Gotten...there.”

Chloe’s jaw slackens for a moment and she tilts her head, contemplating Aubrey’s words. “What do you mean you’ve never gotten there?”

“Chloe,” Aubrey complains.

“Okay, maybe I do know, but—” Chloe leans forward with a soft giggle. Her hair tickles Aubrey’s skin ever so gently. “Never? Not even by yourself?”

Aubrey’s face feels ridiculously hot. “I’ve...tried. A few times. Maybe a couple times I—” Words stick in her chest, unwilling to spill forward. A swell of insecurity and unspoken desires course through her.

I don’t know myself.

My own body.

I don’t know how to love myself like that.

Chloe’s eyes soften. “Aubrey,” she murmurs quietly, like she knows. Because of course, she knows. It is just so very Chloe of her—a marker of who Chloe Beale is as a person since she crashed through Aubrey’s life like a tornado over the past two years or so. Chloe has somehow known things before Aubrey has even had a chance to compartmentalize them and sift through every point at her painstakingly slow place; Chloe has somehow always been the antithesis.

Aubrey doesn’t dare say anything, too caught up in her own thoughts again, but Chloe lifts a hand to curl through her hair. If they weren’t in the position they currently find themselves, sprawled on Aubrey’s too-large bed and across Aubrey’s too-plain sheets, Aubrey could close her eyes and imagine Chloe carding her fingers through her hair on a regular movie night on the couch.

It scares her how normal this feels.

“Not even with Howie?” Chloe asks, still quiet. Still moving her fingers through Aubrey’s hair. Still sitting astride Aubrey’s thighs. Aubrey shakes her head. “Good thing you broke up with him,” Chloe comments with a smile.

That breaks some of the tension that Aubrey had felt building in her chest. She both hates and loves how comfortable she can be with Chloe—how Chloe makes things feel easy and light, like Aubrey can exist without trying so hard. Like this is how it can be. How it ought to be.

“Yeah, good thing,” Aubrey murmurs, closing her eyes when Chloe’s lips meet hers again.

“We’ll get you there,” Chloe murmurs, kissing determinedly down Aubrey’s neck and between her breasts with a destination seemingly in mind.

Aubrey believes her.

Eventually Chloe seems to settle between Aubrey’s legs—how had she gotten there?—and Aubrey feels, abstractly as she dissociates from her own body, kiss-swollen lips begin to trail over the soaked material of Aubrey’s underwear.

“Chloe,” she rasps out. “Okay—you...you don’t—” Aubrey cuts herself off with a choked gasp when Chloe kisses the fabric of the soaked material of her underwear. You don’t have to do that, is what Aubrey had wanted to say, but in a rare moment of internal conflict with her word choice, she clamps her mouth shut as Chloe’s kisses increase in their pressure and intensity, even going as far as to gently sucking at Aubrey’s clit through her underwear.

Now, all Aubrey wants to say is Never stop.

She can barely manage more than a strangled, moaning gasp—a foreign sound—when Chloe draws her head away.

“Why?” It comes out as a demand.

Chloe’s smile is positively sinful, a far cry from the usual pleasantness or playfulness found on her face. Aubrey feels dizzy from the heat coursing through her body. “Do you want me to stop?” Chloe asks. “We can stop,” Chloe promises, though she licks her lips with devastating effect. Aubrey wonders if Chloe’s lips will glisten as they do now if she were to...well. The thought remains half-complete in her mind.

“I guess…” Aubrey clears her throat going for some authority. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh,” Chloe drawls. “So you want me to continue?” Chloe asks, adopting a tone entirely too innocent and too willing for the situation. Aubrey clenches around nothing, entirely too wet and swollen, at the tone and Chloe’s subtle nudge at her penchant for control.

“Yes,” Aubrey murmurs.

“Okay,” Chloe hums. “I want to taste you…if that's okay with you.”

Aubrey tries to run through a list of reasons why she wouldn’t want that—tries to itemize reasons why she should tell Chloe to stop, but she can’t. She finds that she wants this so much; she wants Chloe to make her feel good and she wants to just feel good, period.

She is no longer thinking about Howie, any of her other exes, or even her own inability to make herself feel good.

Allowing herself this one pleasure will make her feel good.

The simplicity causes her to sag into her bed, gasping out a breath when, at the same time, Chloe pulls her underwear down her legs eagerly.

“Okay,” Aubrey murmurs, mostly to herself. “Okay.”

Chloe shifts forward, the movement guiding her snugly between Aubrey’s legs. Beneath Aubrey’s thighs, she feels the press of Chloe’s shoulders, shifting forward ever so slightly. But no—that isn’t what she’s supposed to be focusing on, not when Chloe and her damn tongue are as eager as the rest of her. Despite the eagerness in Chloe’s movements, there is something gentle and exploratory about it all. It feels pleasant and warm and her stomach clenches pleasurably—a far cry from the usual nauseating feeling she gets with startling regularity.

This is it, she thinks, eyes slipping shut as Chloe’s mouth moves against her, wet and soft and so, so warm. This is what it’s meant to be like—what it must mean to be wanted.

A beat.

Aubrey’s heart sinks.

She doesn’t feel anything—doesn’t feel the white-hot pleasure or the sharp sensation of desire or lust like she’s always read about in her own research. Chloe’s tongue and lips between her legs and—and—

“Oh fuck—!” She claps a hand over her mouth as Chloe’s tongues curls and slides, this time pushing upward just right. A jolt of pleasure hooks into her, somewhere in her belly, and tugs. Aubrey cries out again, this time from behind her hand, hips lurching upwards. Chloe pins her hips down with sure, deft hands. The strength of Chloe’s hold on her only makes her wetter even though she had thought that impossible.

Oh.

This is what it feels like to be wanted.

Between her legs, Chloe grins. Aubrey can fucking feel it.

We’ll get you there, is what Chloe had said.

Aubrey believes her.

Chloe has, after all, never given Aubrey any reason to not believe her.

 * * * * *

 Touching Chloe in return is an experience on its own. It is incredible and satisfying and all the words that Aubrey has yet to learn. An enviable vocabulary and she has nothing on the tip of her tongue to describe what it means to be so breathless after having Chloe come apart at her hands.

Chloe’s soft voice, ever soothing, guiding her as she learns Chloe’s body inside and out.

“Right there,” Chloe murmurs, like she is telling Aubrey the time. Her hand, wrapped around Aubrey’s wrist, guides Aubrey’s hand against slick, wet folds and an insistent, stiff clit. It makes Aubrey inhale sharply, knowing that she is touching Chloe so intimately—another woman!—and yet, she feels like she can’t imagine herself doing anything else.

“Here,” Aubrey echoes, rubbing the pads of her fingers gently against Chloe’s stimulated center. A soft moan escapes her when she dips her fingers inside Chloe ever so slightly, feeling Chloe tense beneath her immediately, like she is trying to pull Aubrey in deeper. The thought makes her hot and wet all over again and she shifts, biting her lip as she hovers over a shockingly quiet and docile Chloe Beale.

Chloe says nothing. She nods, pulling Aubrey in for a searing kiss that makes Aubrey feel like she has been doing this for years.

 * * * * *

 to be loved

The summer before senior year is a lot.

Aubrey watches Chloe sip leisurely at her margarita, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. She finds that she hates when Chloe hides her eyes like this when she can’t see the swirl of emotions behind Chloe’s eyes.

“Are you ready for our senior year?” Chloe asks suddenly, putting her drink down.

“I am.”

For a long moment, Chloe doesn’t respond. It is enough of a pause for Aubrey to turn and face Chloe completely because it is so unlike Chloe to not have a response.

“Chloe?”

“I’m...yeah. It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about the Bellas.”

Aubrey is sure that Chloe knows that she hadn’t been thinking about anything else except the Bellas since the end of their last competition. And Puke Gate. She represses a shudder. “Right,” she says slowly. “About what?”

“Just that it’s our last year together,” Chloe replies simply. “I’m thinking about missing you. And just...not being together all the time.”

Aubrey is sure that Chloe isn’t necessarily referring to their loosely-defined Friends With Benefits arrangement (though, Aubrey thinks, it wouldn’t be so loosely-defined if she had just drafted up that contract she had in mind), but it’s the first thing that comes to mind regardless. As with most things having to do with Chloe and sex, a full-body flush immediately rushes through her and she does everything in her power to school her face into one of neutrality as to not alert Chloe to her thoughts.

Still, Aubrey feels affection and tenderness from the woman in front of her. Over their time together at Barden, she has come to know Chloe so intimately and so thoroughly that she can hardly imagine being apart from her as well.

“I get it,” she manages to say. A litany of words—more words, always, somehow—threaten to spill from her lips, but she represses it, afraid of what it would mean to finally, fully wear her heart on her sleeve. “But that just means we have to give it our all, doesn’t it?”

At that, Chloe smiles. “Right. We’re going to be aca-awesome.”

Chloe’s consistent attempts to combine “aca” into their terminology had been something that had made Aubrey laugh at first, not taking it seriously. And Chloe had continued to say it, with the intent of making Aubrey laugh. But now, it is something of an inside-joke between them, neither serious nor a joke. Just something for them, as co-captains. Co-leaders.

Partners.

“Aca-awesome,” Aubrey echoes. “We are, aren’t we?”

The way Chloe gazes at her then, like she thinks Aubrey can do anything in the world...that alone nearly makes Aubrey’s emotional padlock completely fall off her heart, but she grabs at the shackles in a moment of desperation.

The issue between her and Chloe is that neither of them is willing to push each other to that extreme limit—at least not in terms of matters of the heart. Chloe is too gentle with her. Aubrey is too reserved.

Too afraid.

Even though Chloe makes her feel more than she’s ever allowed herself to feel in the past two decades of her life.

 * * * * *

 It is just so much more efficient to put actions to work when words fail. That is something that Aubrey has learned from Chloe herself. Even as she pulls Chloe into her arms, both of them vying for dominance over the other as they stumble through the darkness of Aubrey’s bedroom.

Nights like these always start and end the same way. She and Chloe have gotten efficient, for lack of a better word, at their arrangement.

Except tonight, something feels slightly different. Not quite off, but not quite what Aubrey’s used to, at least with them. Even with all her incessant planning and thinking, she hadn’t foreseen this.

Tonight, it’s different.

Tonight, it’s short, and intense. It leaves them both incredibly sated, both embarrassingly wet and ready for each other as soon as they tumble on the bed, naked. Even with Chloe’s fingers pressed inside her, Aubrey scrambles for more—so much more—grappling with the heaviness of her own emotions. On the cusp of everything, Aubrey tumbles and the experience, breathlessly crying out Chloe’s name, leaves Aubrey stunned into somewhat of a shocked silence. Belatedly, she feels Chloe shuddering against her as she comes around Aubrey’s fingers as well, a soft cry escaping her lips. The jerk of Chloe’s hips against Aubrey’s hand almost sends them both tumbling from her bed, from where they had been lying too close to the edge.

Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, Aubrey thinks that they had been loud. And even more belatedly, was that a soreness in her throat? She needs to remember to get tea and honey for herself and Chloe as soon as possible.

Together, they lie, pressed against each other. Aubrey enjoys the sensation of Chloe’s fingers drumming a slow, uneven rhythm against her shoulder, a reminder that they remain connected even by music.

Chloe sighs, somewhat happily. Somewhat morosely. “Aca-amazing,” she whispers, breath hot against Aubrey’s neck.

The brief silence that follows is enough of a space for both their walls to come crashing down. Aubrey bursts into laughter first—true and real giggles leaving her lips—followed quickly by Chloe. Despite the breathlessness in her chest, Aubrey feels calm.

“Aubrey?”

Never mind that. Chloe sounds entirely too nervous for this to be anything good, but Aubrey knows she is powerless to resist whatever Chloe wants to ask of her.

“Yes?”

Aubrey steels herself for whatever question Chloe might throw at her; Aubrey steels herself for whatever the question might hold for their future together. She settles somewhere between being ready and terrified, not too unlike how she feels whenever she performs.

For so long she hadn’t known whose court the ball was in. Now, she might get the chance—now she might—

“It’s…nothing.”

With that, Chloe rolls over and falls asleep rather quickly, leaving Aubrey to stare at the dark ceiling, wondering if the ball had been in her court all along and she had simply failed to do anything about it.

 * * * * *

 (But what would that conversation have even gone like? Aubrey imagines a thousand possibilities, each ending the same way.

“What do you want this to mean?” Chloe would have asked. Or some variation.

No matter the variable, no matter the input, Aubrey can only compute the same answer: “You,” is what she longs to say. Longed to say. Longed to have said.

The worst part is that she knows that she never would have said it even if Chloe had been asking the same question for the better part of three years together...in every sense of the word.

She tastes the word on her lips, saying it aloud to herself when she lies alone in her bedroom. You.

An entire world of possibilities.)

 * * * * *

 Beca Mitchell.

She’s...she’s something, Aubrey can admit that much.

So much possibility rolled into one person.

Aubrey wonders which parts of Beca appeal to Chloe the most.

Aubrey wonders if Beca’s smugness has anything to do with the fact that Chloe looks at her and sees an entire world that she hadn’t known existed before Beca strolled lazily into their lives. It is so easy to identify because it’s all Aubrey can see when she looks at the crumbling pieces of her and Chloe’s world in her own hands.

 * * * * *

 to have loved and lost 

Aubrey is not an eavesdropper. In fact, she has learned over time that she would really rather not hear some of the things she’s heard. Some classified, some just...the Bellas at their best and worst.

This probably falls somewhere between the two.

Aubrey pauses. She shifts the spare blankets to her other hand as she catches the tail end of soft murmurs from the lounge area for Lodge guests.

“—wish you told me.”

She recognizes Chloe’s voice immediately and draws closer on instinct. She already knows who Chloe is with even if she hasn’t fully heard another voice. Her assumption is confirmed when she hears a long drawn-out sigh that can only belong to one Beca Mitchell, somehow managing to imbue a sigh with the very slightest hint of sarcasm.

Aubrey closes her eyes. She knows she’s being unfair to Beca. It’s not that she doesn’t like Beca. She likes her very much, in fact. She respects her a lot.

“I wanted to tell you,” Beca finally says. “You know I want to tell you.”

“Anything in particular?” Aubrey’s chest seizes at the flirty, playful tone to Chloe’s voice. She should go. She should.

“Um.” Beca exhales. “Everything.” Her voice has a strange tone to it. Soft and uneven. Low. Quiet. “You know...about the internship,” she adds hastily. “But also…”

“Beca,” Chloe responds. “Of course.”

“I just get so…”

“I know, Bec.”

“There is um, something else.”

Aubrey suddenly feels like she is intruding on something intimate, but she cannot bear to draw away. She tells herself that it is because she’s looking out for Chloe, even after all these years. Even after years of drifting apart.

She just wants to be right.

“What is it?” Chloe asks. Aubrey closes her eyes. She hates the tenderness in Chloe’s tone—the sheer gentleness that afflicts Chloe’s voice whenever she talks to Beca. Whenever she so much as talks about Beca.

“It’s you,” Beca says, so quietly that Aubrey has to strain to hear it. "It has always been you."

Aubrey does not hear Chloe's response.

fin.

[cabinofimagines]

It’s Delicate (Jason Grace xFem!Reader)

A/N: *Walks in with an iced coffee and sunglasses on* So you guys won’t believe the YEAR that I had, but I’m ending it on a good note and with Christmas specials, so the bad vibes can SUCK IT (also Jason and reader are like 20y/o in the story and for reasons they live in New York)

Words: 1,620

Warnings: Angst. But not really. Look, idk what I did but i TRIED- (this is not proofread so beware the mistakes.

Request: Can you pls do a Jason Grace x Reader? Where Jason says something during an argument that'll hurt the reader and they don't make up then Reader almost dies in an attack and he's going to think that it was probably the last thing he said to reader before reader dies but reader lives in the end. Really angsty, please? Lmaoi hope u understand what i just sent u // How about a songfic with Taylor Swifts delicate with Jason x reader?

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe?

Jason gets the call from Chiron five minutes after he gets home from the busy streets of the city.

Y/N was attacked while going on a quest on her own. Badly. He’s not sure she’ll make it.

He hangs up and sits on the couch, the shock of the news force him to stay still for a moment, trying to process what his old mentor just said.

Y/N was attacked.

She won’t make it.

And all he can think about is how the last thing he said to her was “Sometimes I wonder why are we still together.”

He fucked up, Y/N stormed out of their bedroom and left the apartment without a word, He’d assumed she was staying at camp since it was the second place she thought of as her home besides their place. He hadn’t visited her all those days cause he thought it was better if he kept his distance for a while, they would make up before Christmas anyway.

Phone lights up my nightstand in the black Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you

Jason spends the next hour calling Piper and Leo, the panic slipping through his voice while he tells them he has to go to camp but he doesn’t want to be alone cause Y/N is dying and he can’t do it, he can’t say goodbye like this. His friends tell him that they’ll be there in a couple of hours and that he just has to be strong in the meantime and go over at camp, that he can’t lose hope yet, cause Y/N might still survive.

He picks up a pair of dark jeans and his shoes, he changes quickly and grabs the keys of his car, passing by the mirror on the entrance. He stops to look at his reflection. It surprises him how utterly devastated he looks after a few hours of contemplating the possibility of losing his girlfriend. 

This scares him, he doesn’t want to know how will he look after a month without Y/N.

He stops a taxi and tells them indications of where they need to drive. The driver gives him a weird look but says nothing, obeying after Jason shows him the few dollars he has with him. 

While he’s inside the car with nothing else but his own thoughts, he can’t help but think of her, of how stupid he was when they fought.

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet?

“Jason for the last time, can you please just clean the table when you’re not working on your project?” Y/N asks, pushing away some blueprints and accidentally dropping some on the floor.

“Hey, can you at least be careful with those?” Jason retorts, standing up from the couch and leaving his laptop abandoned on the coffee table, “if I lose one the gods that are left with no altars will hunt me down”

“Well, is not my fault that you’re so messy,” She groans, sitting in front of her plate and staring at him, “I don’t like that you spend so much time doing those, you’ve been on this project since we were seventeen, Jason. You have to finish it.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” He grumbles, harshly taking the blueprints from the table and walking away towards their room, “I work all the time so i can finish and you stop bickering about it.”

“Bickering?” Y/N asks offended, “excuse me? I’m just worried about you!”

“Really? Cause it sounds more like you’re tired of me” He replies from the bedroom.

Y/N stands up and goes to the room, she sees Jason there, carefully putting the blueprints inside a drawer.

“I’m not tired of you, don’t be stupid,” She crosses her arms, “I’m just sick of seeing these all over the house, why don’t you keep them in one place?”

“Cause they’re too many.”

“Well take some to camp, I know they’ll be safe back there.”

“I can’t, I need to have them with me in case I have to make changes.”

“Changes?” She huffs, “Jason, they don’t need changes, they need to be done.”

“I know that!” He groans, finally turning around and frowning, “it’s easy for you to say it, you’re not doing anything, you just go to school and come back here to eat and sleep, oh, how busy is your life.”

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N retorts, “you don’t know all the assignments I have to do to keep my good grades. And I wasn’t judging your productivity, by the way, but you’re just stressed and in a bad mood, so whatever, I’m not gonna fight with you.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna fight? You were the one who started,” He scowls, “you come home and you complain, we do nothing but fight and argue about the altars. Gods, sometimes I even wonder why are we still together.”

Long night, with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share 'Cause I like you

He arrives at camp at midnight, the snow outside the limits of camp cuts short where Thalia’s tree is, a clear sign of magic. He walks fast towards the big house, luckily for him, no harpies try to eat him and he gets to the door safely. He pushes it open.

“Chiron?” He asks out loud, “Mr. D?”

He walks towards the stairs and goes to the second floor, immediately he sees the light coming from one of the rooms on his right and get closer, opening the door without knocking.

Inside there’s a young demigod that he doesn’t know and Chiron in his wheelchair.

“You can go to sleep, Mylo,” Says the centaur, looking over at the young boy.

The demigod looks over at Jason in mild admiration. The younger groups do that a lot, knowing all about the prophecy of the seven, and how he and his friends saved the world. Jason gives him a polite smile and walks in, holding his breath.

Y/N is asleep, but her skin looks drained from any color and her lips look chapped. When he gets closer, Chiron starts to explain the situation.

“Y/N was in a mission to get rid of a group of Cyclops, one of their arrows went through her abdomen and another went through her shoulder blade. She got to escape and call for help but when we found her she was unconscious... Mylo did all he could to take care of her, he’s Apollo’s.”

Jason sat miserably on the chair where Mylo was moments ago, he carefully reached to touch her hair, with erratic movements he put a strand behind her ear and then held her hand tightly like it was the only thing keeping her tied to the mortal world.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Chiron left the room and closed the door behind him. 

Jason felt helpless, it all looked so definitive like everyone already had accepted Y/N’s death. He couldn’t, as long as her breathing was steady, he would have hope and he was determined to wait forever.

He needed her to stay.

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me?

Two days had gone by and Y/N showed no sign of waking up, Leo and Piper made sure to leave food so Jason would eat, sometimes even staying in the room with him and trying to cheer him up, but Jason never really paid attention to what they were saying, his eyes were on her all the time, waiting, hoping to see her move, or even talk in her sleep, anything that could let him know she was still alive.

Was she dreaming? If so, about what... was her mortal life or her demigod life? 

Did she dream about him? Maybe forgave him, or maybe she would once she woke up to him sitting next to her bed, always waiting for her. All he knew was that he was ready to say anything just to get her back, he would stop working, he would drop anything just to be able to see her smile one more time.

Yeah, I want you

It was Christmas Eve when the Gods heard his prayers.

His eyes opened slowly, the dim light passing through the window warmed the room, barely, since he still felt cold on the tip of his fingers. A distant whimper stirred him up, and it became stronger as he straightened up on his chair, staring at the girl without fully comprehending, his mind too fuzzy.

Then, Y/n opened her eyes, she frowned and tried to cover her face from the sun, but her hand was intertwined with Jason’s. When she felt it, her stare fixed on him.

“Jason?” She asked in a hoarse voice, “what..?”

“You’re awake,” He whispered.

Before she could add another word, Jason started rambling.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. What I said was stupid, and you were right, I was stressed and moody, and you were just worried... then you left...”

“Jason, I... I died?”

“No,” He shook his head, voice trembling, “no, you’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

“I...” Y/N stares at the bruises on her arms and the bandages around the torso, “I was reckless, going on my own. I’m sorry, I should’ve never...”

“You did what a demigod it’s supposed to do. You’re a hero. And I love you for that,” Jason lifted her hand carefully and kissed her knuckles, “I’ll always will. What I said, about not knowing why are we still together. It was a delicate subject but, I know now.”

Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) 'Cause I like you

“What is it, then?” His girlfriend asked quietly.

“It’s cause we want it that way,” He smiles, “because we’re meant to be. And I still like you so much...”

“I can’t argue against that,” She replied, with weariness, a faint smirk on her face.

“Yeah,” He grinned, cleaning the tears that were starting to fall, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Grace.”

Jason could now say, he got his own Christmas miracle.

[everythingoesnk]

Once in Rockfield Farm (1/5)

summary; you own Rockfield Farm and your bf Mary Austin asks you if you can help her friends with an enormous favour that will lead to a much bigger unprecedented change into your life. Thanks to a cute guy specifically.

word count; 6 126

disclaimers, PLEASE read them; don’t forget this is fiction. i’m using queen‘s 70s era as a base for the story but it won’t be historically accurate. the song mentioned towards the end of the chapter is from Taylor Swift, i don’t claim those lyrics as mine. sorry in advance if u find a f*cked up grammar mistake or whatever. feedback would mean everything, it’s the first time i’m posting something i’ve written it feels like i’m giving birth looool

warnings; minor violence at some point and mention of abuse

********

Mary didn’t stop until she convinced you to give green light to her proposal.

She called it like that, but it seemed more like an order. Both of you knew she wouldn’t let it pass until you agreed to.

Taken aback, you refused at first.

The idea of four strangers living in your house, coexisting with you in the only safe space you knew, wasn’t appealing whatsoever.

Even though all they needed was a studio to record, they’d have to stay until the album was finished. They could afford to rent a proper one, but Mary made it quite clear that getting out of town was crucial to avoid possible distractions.

You’d been fired from your job because the restaurant bankrupted, so the money they were going to pay for rent was welcomed.

Your grandfather passed Rockfield Farm on to you when he died.

It was a lovely place full of good memories, mainly concerning hours on end together in the studio he built in the attic throughout the years. The relationship you had with him had always been special, but ever since your nana passed away at the age of 70, your bond became stronger.

He also wasn’t there anymore, and you tried not to think too much about it, just were glad that you met someone like him. He was the main reason you loved making music so much.

Sadly, as you grew up, although your talent for writing songs and producing music was undeniable, you realized you needed to be realistic and pursue a more down-to-earth career.

Medicine was another thing you were slightly attracted to, it wasn’t your passion but it would have to do.

The music business was too complex and difficult to get in, and wasting your time wasn’t on your plans. It’s not like you were a prodigy or a diamond in the rough, anyway. That was your honest opinion.

But now and then you’d succumb and compose. It was an effective way to forget about the rest of the world and vent whenever something would make you sad, grumpy, anxious, angry… Rarely did you write about happy feelings.

What’s the fun in claiming how fulfilled you are with your life? Which you weren’t, but still.

Ballads and songs that’d leave you with your heart aching on the floor were your daily bread.

Mary was the only one allowed to hear your little creations. She’d try to get you to show them to the world, to step out of the comfort zone and perform them in public, to rush out of those same four walls.

You were quick to brush her comments off every time, content with her and your dog being the only ones to get to listen to your babies.

“How long they’re going to take?” you asked using a fake uninterested tone, pretending not to care whether they needed weeks, months or a year.

The truth was that you wished for the album to be done quite fast.

“Who knows,” Mary said. “When the album’s finished I’m the first to know, but in the meantime Freddie won’t give me any clues”

You nodded, unsatisfied with the answer.

“Thanks for agreeing to this. I owe you big” her eyes found yours and yours softened.

“If anything it’s them who do, don’t you think?”

Mary grinned and offered to cook something for tonight’s dinner.

She left you alone with your molecular pathology notes resting on your lap.

It was your last year in University, thank the Lord. One last effort and you would be a doctor.

After memorizing various concepts you found yourself staring at the horizon wondering how was Freddie Mercury like.

Obviously because of Mary you sort of formed this idea of him, but hadn’t had a face to face yet. About the other Queen members… yeah, Mary mentioned them sometimes, vaguely: she described John as a nice fella to have around, Brian as the only one with common sense, and last but not least, when it came to Roger’s personality, she told you hesitantly to judge him yourself.

You thanked her when she handed you the pen you forgot inside.

Mary gave you an encouraging smile, placing her hand on your shoulder and squeezing it.

As soon as she turned around to go back inside, you called her name, squinting your eyes to try and get a better sight of the vehicle that kept getting closer to your property.

“What?”

When she spotted the van she sighed happily.

“Finally”

Mary ran to wait for them in the parking area. She was over the moon, clapping and waving effusively to welcome them.

“Are you coming or not?” Mary shouted, gesturing you to go and stand next to her.

You took your time to get up from sitting upon the grass and do just that.

Not a single second since they pulled over went by and Mary was already imprisoning Freddie in her arms.

You chuckled, completely sure he would be dead in a matter of seconds if she wouldn’t loose her grip.

He lovingly wrapped her in his and stroked her hair.

All of a sudden, running from the backyard where he usually played in the mud (this time was no different), your dog appeared on scene. You asked him to remain quiet and by your side, which to your dismay he did not obey.

He went and greeted Queen, who pushed him away with no bad intentions, they just didn’t want to get dirt on their trousers.

John, nevertheless, got on his knees and began patting him. It did not take long for him to regret it when Sherlock seemed to be captivated by his face, licking it non-stop.

You cleared your throat. It would be nice of Mary to introduce you, being the one who organized this whole of a mess in the first place.

Apparently she read your mind. The next thing she did was link arms with you.

“This is (Y/N)” she spoke. “Freddie, come here”

“You have no idea how happy I am to finally meet you”

Freddie gave you two sweet kisses, one on each cheek.

“Same here” you nodded and mirrored his smile when you saw it reached his eyes.

In a heartbeat you were fascinated by him.

There was this intriguing strong aura he projected that made you feel like you were in the presence of someone from the royalty, someone important.

Freddie examined you from head to toe and fell in love immediately with your outfit, a pastel blue dress with tiny sunflowers printed all over it. He did spot your exposed feet and smiled pleasedly at your choice of painting your toenails with the colours of the rainbow.

“Boys, don’t be rude and come say hi” he gestured his bandmates, who were taking a rapid glimpse of their new temporary home, and stepped aside.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Brian”

“Nice to meet you too” you kindly responded, shaking his hand.

“Thank you very much for allowing us to record our album here. If we win a Grammy expect you to be the first one we address in the speech” he joked, face beaming with a heavenly smile.

Damn, you were so soft for him already. And you wanted to touch his curls.

“You’re welcome, Brian”

“Yes, we’re endlessly grateful” another gentle voice joined the conversation.

John stood now in front of you.

“Hi, I’m John Deacon”

“I know” you laughed, tilting your head to the side. “I hope your stay here is… productive”

“I hope so too” he smiled big, and it made your heart melt. He was so cute.

Roger was next.

He was wearing a black leather jacket that fit him like a glove. One silver bracelet hugging his right wrist, matching the necklace around the neck. What caught your attention the most was the glittery rosy shoes, though. He had long blond messy hair (like the others, except the colour part), and prominent sideburns.

They looked ridiculous, you thought, although every second you spent contemplating his face the less they bothered you.

He was gorgeous, what the hell?

You got somehow a little nervous.

“Productive it shall be. I’m Roger” he spoke, referring your words from before. He took your hand and held it to his lips. “We’ve come to the right place, guys. With such a pretty face like hers we’ll never run out of inspiration” he snorted when he heard John face-palming himself.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Sure Roger didn’t mean that at all, it was just his constant flirty mood Mary warned you about taking over him, you reasoned.

“Don’t get it started, Rog. We don’t want her to kick us out the very first day” Brian scolded him like a father would his children.

Roger laughed, his silly expression never fading away, and soon he was again observing you.

“I was joking, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he said, taking some of the heat out.

“It didn’t,” you said back, confident.

You followed the others when they headed to the house carrying their respective suitcases with Mary as the leader.

Roger was fast to grab his and catch up with you.

“You live alone?”

“I have Sherlock”

He was still in ecstasy, trying to get everyone’s attention.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it” you shrugged. “It’s not as tragic as it sounds. I enjoy my own company”

“Oh. Anyway. This is a farm, right? You do all the, huh… you know, farm work on your own?” he looked around, scanning a bit the surroundings. He pointed with his chin at one big rooster. “The guardian of the house, eh?”

You let out a vague chuckle that made Roger proud, already eager to make you like him.

The reason was obvious: you were so eyecatching he almost tripped when he missed one of Sherlock’s toys on one of the porch steps, too engrossed in how the sun made the freckles in your face stand out.

“My grandfather baptized this piece of land as Rockfield Farm, but it hasn’t been a proper farm for years. Now it’s just… my house”

“You know,” he began, digging deep around his mind to come up with something so the conversation wouldn’t end, “years ago I had this summer job in a much more immense place than this. I had to watch over 200 sheep every day”

“Was it as entertaining as it sounds?”

“Clearly not”

Roger extended his hand to stop the door from closing after John came in. He motioned you to go first and winked, but you didn’t notice the last part, which slightly bothered him.

“(Y/N), this place is precious!” you heard Freddie praise.

Mary interrupted you before you could thank him.

“Then you sure are going to love the studio even more! C’mon”

//

“How did your grandfather manage to get this studio together? It’s pretty impressive” Brian enthusiastically asked, taking a small sip of tea.

The six of you were now chilling in the living room. It was the perfect time for them to rest since the road trip had been long.

Moments before they finished unpacking and settling down, Mary and you gossiped in the kitchen. She remarked how attentive Roger acted towards you, and asked if you were into him.

“Are you stupid?” you couldn’t believe her. “We’ve known each other for what, ten minutes?”

“I was just wondering whether there was desire at first sight or something”

“Desire at first sight?” you repeated slowly, taking in every word.

“It was a softer way to ask if you’d give him a ride or not” she laughed watching you gesture her to lower it down. “I’m just asking because I can tell he would”

Before answering Brian, you looked over at Roger.

He’d taken off his jacket and was rolling up the sleeves of the white tee he wore underneath.

Your lips parted, finding that mundane action quite amusing and sexy on him.

You looked away, guilt taking over you for having stared too keenly. There was nothing wrong about it, and you couldn’t explain why you felt agitated. Maybe you were self-conscious about whether the others noticed.

Forcing yourself to remember Brian’s words and with a sense of pride, you smirked behind your cup, gazing at the wooden floor.

Your grandfather poured his soul into this studio, which he also referred to as a sanctuary. It made you happy to hear Brian acknowledging its value.

There were several electric and acoustic guitars, a generous collection of microphones your grandmother enjoyed saving, two trumpets, a synthesizer -to which Freddie and Roger scoffed loudly at-, a drumkit, one saxophone, and a bass.

Not to mention the tape machine that still worked perfectly plus the recording booth.

Mary told you that John Reid, who was looking after Queen at the moment, managed to convince the label to provide them with a significant amount of money. You assumed they’d brought enough tapes to record on, therefore yours would remain intact.

“He bought half of the instruments”

“The other half?” John inquired.

“He stole them” you answered, not much of a fan about it.

“Whew!” Roger whistled.

You took a short sip of the tea and turned slightly towards the window, presencing a flash of light.

“A piano?”

Freddie dropped the question with no high hopes.

“Pardon?” you turned your head and looked at him over your shoulder with your body still facing towards the window.

The head movement was so fast that a clip you wore to hold a fraction of hair in place loosened a bit, letting the lock to fell down your face.

Roger stared at you in awe.

The light illuminating the room had a warm cosy tone, which surely helped to make your skin look softer and smooth. He wasn’t aware of the heart eyes he was giving you, but Brian, John and Mary were.

When you batted your lashes, he looked away and saw Brian try and fail to hide a smile when they locked eyes. He’d been caught.

“Do you have a piano?” Freddie questioned again, eyebrows raised a little.

A tiny playful smile made its way to your lips.

“Of course I have a piano” you cockily answered.

When you saw Fred’s satisfied grin appear you instantly knew he liked you as much as you liked him. It wasn’t in the attic; you’d show it to him later.

To be honest, the piano was your favourite instrument to play. So delicate, so powerful and majestic.

“Excuse me for a second” you got up from your seat, everyone confused by your sudden urge to leave, but not alarmed.

That light from before wasn’t a bolt of lightning, you came to realize, it was a car that parked outside.

A little voice popped in your head guessing it could be him, but it couldn’t… right? There were approximately two hours from Cardiff to get there.

It sure was someone lost, or maybe they were stopping by to beg to use your bathroom because they couldn’t hold it in anymore. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“How about we start dinner? I’m starving” Mary added.

Their voices kept getting lower and lower as you crossed the corridor, oblivious to Roger’s eyes following your every move.

You stepped outside and closed the heavy door behind you, but not completely.

The silhouette of the last person you’d want to see in the entire world was leaning against a red car, one you did know very well because you lost your virginity in the backseat. He was humming to a tune you didn’t recognize, head facing downwards.

Picking at the fabric of the sweater you put on to forbid the cool air of the night from touching your skin, you opened your mouth.

“Leonardo!” you whisper shouted.

He definitely heard you, although he turned a deaf ear.

“Leo, what the fuck!”

“You’re a stupid whore”

Shit. He’s drunk? You prayed he wouldn’t make a scene, not now, with Mary and the guys around. The shame to have them complicit of whatever could possibly happen would be unbearable.

“You’re miserable” he went on with his speech, voice thick, which made it difficult for you to understand him.

You called it quits three months ago. Apparently he wasn’t any close to getting over the fact you ended it.

“Leave”

After what felt forever, he abruptly raised his head.

“What?” the expression on his face revealed he wasn’t happy.

What his eyes showed freaked the hell out of you: they revealed an intense desire, either with words or physically, to hurt you. He wasn’t sober, and you were aware that he had struggled with alcoholism when he was a teenager. It was fair to say Leonardo never put a finger on you in that way before, but alcohol was the push he needed to do it and his body was full of it now.

A lump formed in your throat.

“Get out of here”

“I just want to talk” lifting his hands up in an attempt to seem harmless, losing balance doing so, he took a few steps forward trying his best to sound convincing so you wouldn’t move and listen to him.

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say”

“How do you think I felt? Huh? When I saw you making out with that moron? You’re so selfish. A fucking slut, (Y/N). You disgust me”

That was the final straw. You promised you wouldn’t give in and start an argument, but he fucking did have to bring that up. He had the nerve to blame you for moving on and having some fun with a guy a few days ago at a party.

“Are you serious right now, Leo? How dare you?! We’re not together!” funny enough, this time it was you walking up to him not giving a damn anymore about the consequences.

When you raised your fist to punch him, even in his state, he managed to catch your wrist on time.

“How wrong you’ve done me” he hissed, tightening the grip. That’d leave marks for sure.

He pushed you against the car, causing your back to crack roughly. The situation was so tense not even the tears were brave to roll down your face, your vision blurry and unclear.

“Please, Leo!”

Mary’s voice never felt so good in your ears.

You totally forgot about them, that you could’ve screamed for help instead of dealing with Leo on your own, too absorbed in rage to be able to think things through.

“Do something, help her!” she pleaded the boys.

Four arms were fast to catch him and throw him to the ground.

Everything was happening so fast, almost as fast as your crazy heartbeats.

Brian came to you and held you by the shoulders, checking you out entirely, looking for bruises. He was asking repeatedly if you were alright, if that man dared to touch you. You could hear him, but it felt like he were miles away from you, his words echoing in the back of your mind.

Mary grabbed your arm and the two guided you, treating you like you had some kind of disability.

Before letting them drag you inside, you quickly turned your head to see what was going on, and saw a fuming Roger threatening Leo to disappear and never come back.

Freddie and John remained behind him in case he’d lose his temper. They looked at each other in astonishment; it was the first time they saw Roger like that.

“(Y/N)” Mary called you, once in the common room. “Fancy a glass of water?”

“I’ll be right back with it,” Brian said, his long legs taking him to the kitchen.

“Sit down, babe”

“I don’t want to. I’m fine”

She could perfectly see the tension in your shoulders.

“You’re not. But it’s fine, it’ll be fine” she sympathized, caressing your hair.

At this point you were lost for words. You were confused, angry, stunned.

“Here, take it. It’ll do you good, (Y/N). Is there anything else you n—” Brian began, offering you freshwater to maybe comfort you and make the knot you felt in your throat go away.

“For fuck’s sake!” you felt choleric. Maybe you were about to pass out.

Freddie, John and Roger came in and stopped dead in their tracks when they heard you complain.

Brian blinked a few times.

You were desperate for some time alone to process the last couple of minutes, but that wasn’t any excuse for you to take it out on Brian when all he wanted was for you to get better.

“I’m sorry” you lamented, ashamed at your behaviour, and took the glass not looking at anyone in the eye. That’s when you saw you were indeed shaking a little bit.

He smiled comprehensively, not giving too much attention to your outburst.

“Who the fuck was that?” Freddie wondered.

John elbowed him and mouthed “not now”.

“I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry you had to witness that” you sighed, choking back the agony.

“Don’t apologize. That piece of shit shouldn’t have treated you like that. He looked mad” Freddie condemned.

Another heavy sigh escaped your mouth when you saw everyone staring intently at you, hating the feeling of their unasked pity.

Roger hadn’t said a word. His muscles were tense, mind way too far from the scene recalling something from the past.

//

It’d been several weeks since Queen came to stay.

To your surprise you had no complaints. They helped you without hesitation with the housework and kept their rooms tidy. More or less. The only thing you could protest about was that after the sessions it seemed like the studio had been the target of a fateful hurricane.

However, they were too cute to stay mad at for more than ten seconds.

Coming out of your shell was easy because of them. It didn’t take you long to feel comfortable enough to show your true self instead of hiding in your room like you did the first three days.

Reading a book easily kept your mind busy, except now; it was unbearably hot outdoors and indoors. Without taking your eyes off the page, you held the Coca-Cola can against your neck seeking a refreshing sensation.

“Mind if I join?”

You lowered the sunglasses until they were fitted a little bit below the bridge of your nose. The sun was hiding behind a cloud now, making it easier to adjust your vision and get it focused on whoever that was.

A shirtless Roger stood before you, with a towel around his neck that he rushed to spread on the hammock next to yours.

His skin glowing due to the sweat made him look rather tempting.

Your brain lent a helping hand forcing you to smile and nod because you wouldn’t, couldn’t do that yourself.

A small grin tugged at his lips when he noticed your eyes on him longer than usual.

“You’re always studying, angel” he pointed out, lying down and crossing his arms above his head.

You let out a loud sigh you’d been holding in, cheeks red at the pet name he chose. Anytime he’d call you something sweet rather than by your name, it was always how you tended to react.

There was no denying that you’d sort of developed a small crush on him.

Nobody could blame you, though; the same thing would happen to any human being with feelings.

He always treated you as one of them, making sure you didn’t feel left out. His sense of humour was similar to yours, and you appreciated it when he included you in their plans even if he knew you were occupied with Uni and probably wouldn’t be able to join.

Also, he was hot as fuck. You swore you’d never seen a man so beautiful in your life so far.

“I have to if I want to pass my exams”

“Sure, but you’re always studying” he emphasized. “It cannot be healthy”

It couldn’t, but everything was so difficult and you were so lost at some points you thought the world as you knew it could end if you took the smallest break.

“(Y/N)”

“Tell me”

“Seeing you stressed out stresses me” he sat straight, took the book from you and shoved it away. “Fuck this. I suggest you have some fun before the pressure ages you”

“And what do you recommend, ay?” you questioned, crossing your arms across your chest.

“We could play Frisbee”

“Frisbee? Really?”

“Why not? I’m sure you’re not that bad” he teased, getting to his feet.

You faked a laugh and stood up.

“Don’t underestimate my skills”

He used his hand to mimic a mouth talking nonsense, and approached the pool since the frisbee was floating in the water. But he stopped when he felt he stepped on something, proceeding to lift his foot to see what it was.

Roger knelt down and picked a piece of paper up, which said in messy handwriting together with scribbles here and there: You tell me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me.

His brows cocked in surprise and your eyes widened. You grabbed it out of his hand and held it close to your heart reflexively, as if protecting it. It must have flown out from within the pages of the book when he first threw it away.

Roger watched you curiously, crouched down still, as you breathed slow and deep avoiding eye contact. You could feel your face getting hotter.

He got up with an unnoticeable smile.

“That’s yours? It’s decent”

You waited for something to get out of your mouth, but this time your brain didn’t find a way to help you out, speechless at the fact that he liked it.

“Do you have more? I’d love to hear” he continued, glancing at you.

“Oh, n-no” you forced a laughter. “I don’t”

“I’m glad you’re not as bad as a lyricist as you are as a liar”

You gave him a dirty look and the corners of his eyes crinkled at that. He puppy-eyed you.

“Please?”

“No, Roger”

“We don’t protest when you’re in our recording sessions, you could return the favour”

“Excuse me? You’re in my goddamn house. Watch your tone”

He giggled, fascinated by how cute you turned out to be when poked at.

“What do I have to do for you to say yes?”

“Nothing. It’s not happening”

“(Y/N)!” he pleaded. “I want to hear you sing”

You shook your head.

“And I want to own all the dogs on the planet. Guess we’re both stuck”

Roger groaned in defeat and turned around to get his hands on the frisbee.

For some odd reason, it made your heart dance in your chest knowing he was willing to sit down with you and listen.

A sense of enthusiasm and confidence moved you and shockingly enough you found yourself considering the idea.

Roger gave you a quick head nod.

“Ready?”

You didn’t know what the hell you were doing but you whispered a small “okay”. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Take a few steps back first, you’re too close”

You pulled a face at him but quickly shook your head.

“I said I’ll do it”

Roger wasn’t getting it.

“Do w—“ he stopped mid-sentence, his sapphire eyes widening in understanding this wasn’t about playing Frisbee anymore. “Yes!” he took you in his arms and spun you around.

Since he was shirtless you could feel how well built he was. Although he wasn’t the most athletic man out there, apparently drumming on and on was enough to keep him fit.

“Rog, Rog! Enough! I’m feeling dizzy”

You were wearing a mini skirt that had a tiny slit on one of the sides. Seeing it rolled itself up a little you adjusted its length, avoiding any extra space to anyone’s imagination. Too late for Roger though.

When satisfied with how your skirt fitted, you looked up and saw a subtle wink roaming his lips.

“I’m ready when you are” he announced, bending over to grab his shirt and put it on.

At first your legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Roger followed you closely.

He saw you toy with your hair, questioning yourself why you agreed to do this when you weren’t a hundred per cent sure about it. He placed his hands on your shoulders and slowly massaged the back of your neck with his thumbs, relieving some of the pressure.

Every single hair of your body stood on ends.

“Don’t be nervous, love. We can drop it whenever you want” he conceded, tossing an arm around your shoulders.

Opening the door to the studio you felt sick, already regretting your decision.

Roger took a sit on the couch, watching you like you were about to do a mind-blowing performance that’d change the meaning of his life forever.

Feeling like a rat in a laboratory with the doctors waiting to see if the experiment was successful or not, you shifted weight from one foot to the other, discomfort intensifying.

The piercing electric blue of his eyes triggered something in you when they met yours. You didn’t know how but it seemed like he was speaking to you through them, encouraging and imploring you to open up to him.

“Take it easy, (Y/N). It’s not a big deal”

“It is for me”

You sank down on one of the chairs next to the control room, poorly trying to hide how intimidated you were.

“You’re singing, then? Or reading the lyrics out loud?”

“Singing” you muttered. God knows if you went downstairs to pick up your notebook you wouldn’t come back.

A very cheeky expression overtook his face.

“Okay, go ahead” he gestured, rubbing his chin.

You clenched your jaw and snapped your eyes shut. It was easier to do it if you weren’t looking. You’d just imagine it was your grandfather in the room with you instead.

“Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it I’d like to be my old self again But I’m still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone”

Roger’s fingers fidgeted at the sight of you tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, silently wishing it was him doing it.

He saw how your angelic features relaxed along to every word you sang. When it comes to your voice... He had to remind himself he didn’t die nor was leaving a dream, because it felt like he were in the very gates of heaven.

His breathing quickened, well aware he was witnessing something intimate.

Leaning closer, elbows resting on his knees, he allowed your voice to transport him to the place and time you were describing.

“But you keep my old scarf From that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can’t get rid of it

'Cause you remember it all too well”

You swallowed before opening your eyes and speaking.

“There’s more but that’s the part I’m most proud of”

Roger’d fallen silent, his brain on fire.

He seemed to be absent, daydreaming probably.

Your heartbeat could make you go deaf any second, partly because you allowed him to have a peek at your heart partly because you were dying to know if he was any positive about it.

“You sounded like an angel” he stated in the softest voice, working on coming back to his senses.

There was nothing you could do apart from blushing and awkwardly shaking your head, yet on the inside you were saturated with a strong feeling that filled you completely: his opinion was relevant to you and the reaction he had was more than enough.

“You’re exaggerating. Thank you though, for your words. You’re very kind” you said, entwining ankles.

“Is it…” Roger was afraid this would ruin the mood. He decided to give it a shot and solve any doubt. More importantly, he wanted to make sure you were alright.

You weren’t stupid and knew where he was going.

“About Leonardo? Yes. Next question” you explained bitterly cutting him off, and pressed your lips together making an effort to not roll your eyes and appear rude.

He did ruin the mood.

Roger felt bad now.

“I’m sorry. Forget it”

“It’s fine” the flat tone you used before switched to a more delicate one.

It was overwhelming that he cared. He didn’t have to but he cared.

“I experienced something similar. I know how fucked up domestic abuse is” Roger confessed, bowing his head.

Wait, what? He what?

“Rog…” you got up and carefully sat next to him.

It shocked you how quick the atmosphere changed.

“It’s nothing, dear, it was a long time ago. She was… she was crazy” he laughed drily and cleared his throat. “You know what I mean”

“I do not. What you saw when Leonardo showed up was a one-time thing. He was drunk and barely himself, but I’m so terribly sorry you had to go through that”

“Ah, good for you then” he tapped you on the knee with a small smile on his face.

It broke your heart. How could anyone be so goddamn evil? You just couldn’t understand why they were people like that out there, willing to harm others deliberately.

Your mind drifted to Leonardo, did he become one of them?

Glancing at Roger, you hesitantly got closer to rest your cheek against his shoulder, letting him know mutely you were there in case he needed to vent more often. You intended to cuddle for just a few seconds before it turned out weird. That was until he wrapped an arm around you to keep you in position.

“Thank you” he whispered.

It sent shivers down your spine hearing for the first time his voice discreetly cracking up. You weren’t entirely sure about what he was thanking you for, though.

Roger didn’t quite understand why such information slipped out his mouth. Maybe he thought it was appropriate to share it since he contemplated you went through the same thing after what he saw. He just wanted to make sure you knew you could count on him as well.

The boys knew about the matter, obviously, but there was this thing about you he hadn’t figured out just yet that pushed him to speak to you about it.

That’s what his mind was saying, his heart on the other hand defended the idea that he felt comfortable with you and that since he presenced the incident with Leonardo he remembered his experience. Hence the fit of anger he had.

The thought alone of that scumbag hurting you made his head collapse. He was very sensitive about the subject.

“Better?” you wondered out loud after a while of snuggling, yet you didn’t move, finding the proximity significantly pleasant.

“Yeah, uh, sorry” he cleared his throat and released you.

“It’s more than okay”

He nodded, not really looking at you yet.

You tried to think of something that could distract him from those undeserved and heartrending memories.

There was no point of comparison to what Roger had struggled with, but every time you argued with Leo during the year your relationship lasted, you were grateful that your friends organized sporadic plans to help you forget about the fights.

You had to do that for Roger. You had to entertain him. To keep his mind occupied.

“Freddie explained to me drums are much more complicated than what they seem”

Roger glanced over the drumkit.

He was suspicious at first about the topic change, and looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“It can be very ambitious if you don’t do try for real, instead of goofing around. There’s too much going on. People believe it’s just hitting the drums and you’re good. Wankers”

It was unmissable how his face lit up, talking about his passion.

Crossing an ankle over your knee, you bent forward to get a better sight of his much more eased features.

“I’m sure it requires a lot of hard work, the coordination on hands and feet and all that stuff. Singing along as well must be tiring”

Roger’s eyes bored into yours, as if studying and reflecting upon your words. A corner of his mouth lifted.

“Yeah,” he replied amused, “physically it can be tough”

He knew what you were doing.

Just when he was about to ask you if you wanted him to teach you some basics, John came flying through the door.

“For God’s sake, there you are. Roger, I need you. Freddie and Brian are arguing again. Help me out spreading some peace before Freddie slaps him”

****

end of part one, lemme know what you think ! ♡

[loveisblindfanfiction]

Chapter Twenty-Two

I wasn’t quite sure what motivated me to dress the way I did for the SAG awards.

Part of it was because I wanted to shake up my look a little bit. I was always stylish at the events I went to, but if I was being honest, I was a little conservative in my style and it didn’t make sense to be dressing like that when I was famously known for wearing lingerie.

Modes were notoriously known for showing a little bit of skin on the red carpet. So it made sense that I would wear something a little sexier than normal.

But a small part. A part so tiny that I would not admit to anyone wanted to feel wanted. Not just by anyone, I wanted to be wanted by Kit.

If my last encounter with him was anything to go by, I knew I still had feelings for him. I also knew that he had not moved on from me just like I had not moved on from him. Yet every time I saw him, he seemed to be so controlled. He was not affected by my presence like I was affected by his.

So I wanted to test that control. I wanted to look irresistible because I wanted to get a reaction out of him.

I rationalized it with myself that I was simply following Selena’s advice in that I was looking good and showing him how happy I was as a way to stick it to him the way she stuck it to Justin every time she saw him. But I wasn’t feeling that vindictive it was more a test.

If I could look sexy and desirable and he had no reaction to me, it would mean he was truly over me and then I would have no choice but to move on from him. If he wasn’t… well I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

I wore a black Alexander McQueen Embellished Jersey gown with a plunging neckline and a pair of Stella McCartney Black Silk Satin sandals with my Eddie Parker ‘High Maintenance’ clutch.

I looked amazing. Even Paul, who was my date for the night and unquestionably gay commented on how sexy I looked.

Such sentiments were echoed on the red carpet when I stood posing for photos I also received several cat calls and wolf whistles. Not that I didn’t normally receive them but this time they were all a little more insistent. A little louder and a lot more frequent.

During the SAG awards, drink after drink was sent over to me from my admirers of the night. I couldn’t say who won awards that night only that by the time James and myself rolled up to the after party, I was well and truly drunk.

James was also a little worse for wear, though not as bad as me.

We’d barely been inside for five minutes before James dragged me out onto the dance floor because a song by one of his favourite bands was playing; Fifth Harmony’s ‘Worth It’.

‘Uh huh you see me in the spot like, "Ooh I love your style"…’

“You got to clap that’s what they do in the video.” He instructed as we danced.

‘Uh huh show me what you got, 'Cause I don't wanna waste my time…’

“How am I supposed to know that?” I asked as he proceeded to grab my hands and make me clap.

‘Uh huh see me in the spot like, "Ooh I love your style"…’

“Oh right cause your blind.” Giggled James.

I giggled in response, I was blind! It was funny.

‘Uh huh show me what you got, now come and make it worth my while…’

“Now you gotta put your hand over your head and swing it side to side.” He instructed as he grabbed my hand and pulled it above my head.

‘Give it to me, I'm worth it. Baby I'm worth it. Uh huh I'm worth it…’

“This dance is very repetitive.” I observed as we continued to dance.

‘Gimme gimme I'm worth it. Give it to me, I'm worth it…’

“Shut up its Fifth Harmony and they slay.” He replied.

‘Baby I'm worth it. Uh huh I'm worth it…’

I giggled as we continued dancing and James grabbed my hands and swinging them from side to side, “A lot of people are looking at us.” He commented.

“Like who?”

‘Gimme gimme I'm worth it…’

“Kit. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.” He said as the song finished.

“Kit!” I said suddenly delighted, “take me over to him.”

Kit was so uptight and boring sometimes, he’d never dance with me. So I suddenly had the over whelming urge to make him.

“Mr. Harington!” I proclaimed as James steered me over to him by holding me by the shoulders from behind.

“Miss Trinket.” He greeted, “What can I do for you?”

“You!” I said, pointing an accusatory finger at me, “Are going to come dance with me!”

“Am I just?” he asked sounding amused.

“Yes! You are!” I said as I flipped my finger into an outstretched hand as Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake It Off’ began to play, “May I have this dance?” I asked in my best British accented voice.

‘I stay up too late, got nothing in my brain…’

Laughing Kit placed his hand in mine and lead me out onto the dance floor.

‘That's what people say hmm, that's what people say hmm…’

“Wait for me!” called James as he grabbed my other hand and followed us.

‘I go on too many dates, but I can't make 'em stay…’

I could tell we were on the dance floor and I raised both my hands to twirl my respective dance partners.

‘At least that's what people say hmm, that's what people say hmm…’

For a moment I danced with the two of them, swaying from side to side before James hand slipped from mine.

‘But I keep cruising, can't stop, won't stop moving…’

Kit pulled me to him, I could tell it was him by the feel of his chest and the way he smelled as he laced our fingers together and wrapped his hand around my waist.

‘It's like I got this music in my body and it's gonna be alright…’

He rocked us from side to side for a moment, dipping our joined hands then pulling them upright and I smiled.

‘'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play…’

Tightening his grip around my waist I felt the floor disappear from under me as Kit lifted me slightly off the ground and spun me around. I laughed gleefully as he placed me back on the ground.

‘And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate…’

Pulling our joined hands above my head, I spun around, still laughing.

‘Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake…’

Then Kit grabbed me and pulled me to him before he dipped me down, his hand supporting my back.

‘I shake it off, I shake it off…’

I laughed as he pulled me back up and began to move our joined hands up and down again in a rocking motion.

‘Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break…’

For someone normally so shy, Kit was really committed to dancing with me. That was so nice. He was so nice. This was such a great song. Was James having as much fun as I was?

‘And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake…’

“Where’s James?” I asked, was he ok?

“I think he went outside.” Replied Kit.

‘Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake…’

“Take me to him?” I asked.

Taking my hand Kit lead me off the dance floor to a door, which I heard swing open and the cool air hit me and I realized we were outside.  

‘I shake it off, I shake it off…’

“James?” I asked as I heard the sounds of cars in the distance. Judging by the wind and the elevator ride we had taken to get to the after party, I guessed we were outside on the balcony.

“Here.” Groaned a voice.

I walked in the direction on his voice, stretching my hands out until they encountered the cool railing of the balcony. I slid my hands along it until I found James’s hunched form, leaning over the railing.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” He groaned.

“Over the side of the balcony?” I giggled, “Well do me a favour, aim away from the dress and go for distance.” I laughed.

I heard Kit chuckle behind me. I’d completely forgotten he was here!

“Hey Kit can you get them to bring our car around, I think we’re done for the night.” I explained.

“Sure.” He said.

I stood with James, rubbing his back soothingly as he groaned and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was just so funny! What exactly that was I couldn’t tell but whatever it was, it was funny.

                                                         …

The following morning, I felt like absolute crap.

My head felt as if someone was smashing it with a hammer with every beat of my heart and my stomach was churning. Even my feet, which normally coped well with high heels were aching because of how carelessly I had been walking.

I was hung over. Well and truly hung over and I planned to spend the entire day on the couch chugging coffee and water. I didn’t dare risk food with how sick I was feeling. I just wanted to lay on the couch in my pyjamas all day and wait for the painkillers I had taken to kick in. James was in a similar state and had a similar plan.

“Hey you two, I just found something interesting online.” Proclaimed Paul in what sounded like a far too cheerful voice.

James and myself both groaned in response. He could have found a video that showed proof of life on Mars and I couldn’t have cared less at that point, my head was so sore!

“MTV has done a piece on you and Kit Harington, Gerty.” He said.

I raised my head mildly interested.

Paul cleared his throat before he began to read, “Last night was the SAG Awards and while we are happy for the winners, they are not who are making headlines this morning. Last night model Gertrude Trinket slayed on the carpet in a stylish black number, which earned her an almost unanimously voted best dressed award, it was what occurred at the after party that has everyone talking.”

I winced as I began to contemplate what embarrassing things I had done at the after party that they would be talking about…

“Thanks to the beautiful world of snapchat, MTV captured footage of Miss Trinket busting a couple of moves on the dance floor with none other than Game of Thrones Actor Kit Harington. The two looked as if they were having a blast on the dancefloor together and sources reveal that it was Gerty who asked Kit to dance.” Read Paul.

I had danced with Kit last night? I had vague memories of dancing on the dancefloor but I couldn’t remember who I was with. I thought it had just been James. Why had I danced with Kit? That was unlike me. Things between the two of us were… strange. We definitely weren’t up to the friendly stage where we could dance with each other yet. Why had I done that?

I knew why; I had been drunk.  

“But this isn’t the first time these two have encountered each other. MTV has a slide show of what we hope will become the epic love story of Kerty. Or Git. We haven’t decided yet.” He read.

“Oh no. There’s a slide show?” I groaned.  

“First picture shows Gerty strutting herself at the Victoria Secret Fashion show and you can see in both times Miss Trinket walked the cat walk, Kit kept a very close eye on her.” He read.

“Hmm, that’s true.” Said James thinking for the first time, “I saw the footage. He doesn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.”

I kept my eyes closed. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with that knowledge. Or how it made me feel.

“Next there is a picture of the two at the Brit Awards. Gerty was originally seated to another Game of Thrones alumni Emilia Clarke when Kit came to speak to Gerty at her table, the two look quite happy to be talking to each other in the picture.” Said Paul.

I kept my eyes closed and tried desperately not to think. It hurt my head and my feelings were all… fuzzy.

“Next is a picture of Sarah Hyland at the Golden Globes. But if you look in the background you can see Kit and Gerty talking to each other at the bar. Gerty’s seeing eye dog (who broke the internet when he made his red carpet debut) is with her. And those famous dark locks could belong no other than Jon Snow.” Read Paul.

Was I feeling so fuzzy because I was confused about my feelings for Kit or because I was hungover?

“Then we have the SAG awards footage. Last night Miss Trinket had many admirers for obvious reasons and apparently she shot down more than one hopeful bachelor hoping to spend some time with the sought after Supermodel. Kit Harington was obviously then envy of every guy in the room when he got to dance with her.” He read, “Is this the start of a beautiful relationship? We hope so.”

“Huh.” Said James and Paul finished reading.  

“Now Miss Trinket, what do you have to say about that?” asked Paul, sounding smug.

“My head hurts and I feel sick.” I stated before I slumped back down on the couch.

“Well, you have been seeing Kit and awful lot these days.” Commented James.

“Technically I don’t see anyone.” I said lazily.

James shoved me in response.

“Going to the same event is not the same as seeing each other. I’m not actively seeking him out to spend time with him.” I explained. That was too many words. Words were hurting my head.

“Are you going to see him again?” asked Paul curiously.

“No.” I said snuggling down onto the couch, “I’ve got fashion month coming up. So I’m not planning to go to any other events where he might be.” I explained, this conversation was annoying me for some reason, “And I’m done talking about this.” I announced.

I wasn’t annoyed at them. I was annoyed at myself.

Memories from last night had come flooding back and I remembered dancing with Kit. I remember how light hearted and uncomplicated things had been between us while I was drunk. But mostly I remembered how much fun I had with him.

I didn’t realize how much I had missed him and the good times we had together I had been so focused on the how and why our relationship ended. But now that I was reminded of how much fun the two of us had together, I found myself missing him terribly.

But I wasn’t going to give in to such feelings. It was just because I was hung over and feeling sorry for myself. Nothing more.

Fashion month was starting in a week and I would be far too busy working to think let alone miss him. I wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon either. Which, I reasoned, was a good thing; it would leave no time to brood on the strange feelings I had towards Kit that I was still struggling to identify.

                                                    …

At the start of February, I was reunited with Astrid and Karlie for the first Fashion month of 2017. I was so happy to be with the two of them again after having been so busy since the Victoria Secret Fashion show.

The first week started in New York and nothing much of interest happened, we all worked too hard and looked absolutely beautiful despite our exhaustion. Though towards the end of the week, on Valentine’s Day, something of interest did happen.

Lots of the girls received flowers from their boyfriends.

Along with Astrid I was one of the only single girls modelling in fashion week so I didn’t expect to get anything. That was until a someone approached me, smelling strongly of something floral, “Gertrude Trinket?” asked a voice.

I didn’t open my eyes as my make-up artist continued to pain my face, “Right here!” I called raising my hand.

“These are for you.” He proclaimed.

I heard the rustling of paper as something was placed down on the table in front of me.

“Oh Gerty, someone got you flowers.” Said Astrid next to me.

“What kind of flowers?” I frowned.

“Red and white flowers.” Said Astrid, “You know what they mean?”

“Flowers mean things?”

“Yeah. White roses mean ‘I’m worthy of you’ and red roses mean ‘love’.” She told me.

I’m worthy of you and romance? By that logic, the message was clear, though I wondered if there was an actual card amongst the flowers.

“Hey Stephanie, can you check if there is a card with the flowers?” I asked my make-up artist.

“Yep.” She chirped, as she took her brush away from my face, “There’s no message, it just says ‘from Mr. Christopher Catesby’.” She said.

I blinked in shock at the name. Christopher Catesby. That had been the name Kit told me when we first met. Which, technically wasn’t a lie, I found out later that it was his legal name and that Kit Harington was his stage name.

“Whose Christopher Catesby?” asked Astrid, “Do you know him?”

“I thought I did.” I said, feeling a little dazed.

Kit had sent me flowers. I wasn’t sure what to do with that information. But like the first time, I felt flattered. I’d only ever received flowers two times in my life and they had both been from Kit, out of the blue with no prompting from me, to show that he cared. That he was thinking about me…

“What do you mean you used to? Did something happen?” she asked sounding curious.

“It’s complicated.” I told her.

“Doesn’t sound complicated. The guy sent you flowers on valentine’s day.” Commented Stephanie as she went back to painting my face.

She had a point. The action itself was not complicated. Our past was though.

Thinking about my situation with Kit was already giving me a headache. The flowers clearly had a romantic intention and I was flattered and a little shocked, he still had romantic intentions towards me after all this time? How did that make me feel? How did I feel about him?  

That was the million-dollar question; how did I feel about Kit?

Now that I had forgiven him the previous hostility and tension I had harboured towards him was gone. So did that once again mean that he was a viable dating option? I wasn’t sure. I may have forgiven him, but I could not forget our history.

I could not forget how great it had been before it turned bad.

My headache was intensifying as I thought about him. So I simply pushed it to the back of my mind and began to mentally prepare myself for the upcoming fashion show, my photoshoot tomorrow, my interviews tomorrow night, the ad campaigns the day after that…

                                                          …

On the seventeenth of February Astrid, Karlie, myself and a bunch of other fashion related people headed to London for fashion week there.

Astrid and myself were lucky enough to be invited to travel in the Chanel Jet by Karl Lagerfield. We were able to get a few precious hours sleep before we were thrust into make-up chairs once more and made ready for a fashion show.

Midway through the week, I really hadn’t had time to think about Kit or my situation with him. I was so tired. Astrid and myself had begun speaking to each other in the form of grunts with different pitches, too tired to speak.

But that night, we were required to dress up and attempt to resemble human life as there was a VIP after party that we had to mingle at. I was wearing a light pink cornelli bralet crop top with a Balmain Lace-up leather mini skirt. All tied together with a pair of metallic Giuseppe Zanotti heels.

The fact that I was so tired meant that I wasn’t really paying attention to who I was talking to. I thought it might have been some photographer who wanted to do a shoot with me, Sarah was doing most of the talking when the man we were talking to suddenly sad something that broke through my wall of tiredness, “Ah Kit, there you are.”

I froze, my entire body tensing as I realized he was near me. I gripped Koko’s lead tightly. The excited feeling that passed through me at knowing he was near took me completely by surprise. I expected to feel the familiar anger and hate that I had been holding onto for the past couple of months, but it never came.  

“Hi Wesley.” Replied Kit.

“You know Gerty it was actually Kit here who suggested you for the photoshoot.” Said Wesley conversationally.

What photoshoot? What? Kit had suggested me for a job?

“Did he just?” I asked curiously.

“Yeah. Said he wouldn’t do the shoot without you.” Said Wesley happily.

I narrowed my eyes, Kit had wanted me to do a photoshoot with him? Why?

“Well I think it’s a brilliant opportunity.” Said Sarah, “Calvin Klein is a great brand. We’ve had a partnership with them for a long time.”

Calvin Klein? That was underwear. I’d just been signed up by Sarah to do an underwear shoot with Kit.

That son of a bitch.

I was blind, so I’d never know for sure, but I was willing to be quite a bit of money to state that Kit was grinning smugly.

I would have to do a photoshoot together in our underwear.

Having walked the Victoria Secret catwalk, I was not shy or nervous about being in my underwear around people. I was however nervous about being in my underwear around Kit. Given our history.

The last time we were in our underwear together, we were having sex. My stomach clenched at the thought and my heart jumped up into my throat. If my mind had made the connection, I knew his would and I wasn’t sure how I felt about being in such close proximity to him again whilst near naked.  

“Do you two mind if I borrow Gerty for a moment? A friend of mine wants to meet her.” Said Kit smoothly.

“By all means.” Said Sarah happily.

I felt a familiar hand grab my own and lead me through the crowd. I surprised even myself by going with him willingly.

The flowers were one thing, but now he had demanded we do a photoshoot together? What was he playing at? I had forgiven him sure; but did he think that meant that he was in with a chance for us to be together once more?

The fact that I didn’t dismiss that very thought out rightly really answered the question.

“Is there really a friend who wants to see me or did you just want to get me alone?” I asked, I wasn’t sure what to expect at this point.

“Yes there is.” He assured me.

We walked in silence, Kit holding one of my hands, Koko’s lead in the other. My mind was in turmoil and I wasn’t sure how to feel, let alone what to say or do. I was painfully reminded of the last time we had been together, I was drunk and had been dancing with him.

All my inhibitions had been gone. The past didn’t matter; it was just about enjoying each other’s company.

Then I was reminded that our dancing together had not been the last point of contact between us. As if he was reading my mind, Kit spoke, “Did you get my flowers?”

“Yes, I did.” I said carefully, “They were very nice. Thankyou.”

What was it about receiving flowers of him that just made me feel so… special. It was such a thoughtful gesture, made doubly so by the fact that he had sent them to me on valentine’s day. A day where single women were made to feel doubly inconsequential.  

A part of me knew I wasn’t supposed to like it. That I wasn’t supposed to feel as flattered as I did, given who they were from. But I could help it, when I had forgiven him, all those malicious feelings had melted away and he was no longer a liar. He went back to simply being Kit.

Kit who had sent me flowers.  

“Gerty, this is my friend Richard.” Announced Kit.

“Richard Madden, the guy from Game of Thrones?” I asked curiously.

“That would be me.” Said a Scottish accented voice.

I felt Kit pull my hand forward and place it into the waiting hand of another man, who shook it, “Gerty, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” He told me.

“All bad I’m sure.” I smiled.

“Oh yes, he told me you were absolutely beautiful. Which was a terrible understatement, your gorgeous.” He told me.

“Smooth.” I commented with a smile.

“Alright Richard, stop flirting and ask your question.” Said Kit pointedly.

“Oh no, I’m enjoying the flirting.” I told Kit with a smile, “Tell me, are your eyes as blue as they say?” I asked thinking to the many times James had bemoaned his ‘romance novel stare’.

“Bluer.” He told me.

I laughed. I was enjoying the flirting not because I had any interest in Richard Madden but because I could feel Kit radiating tension from my side out of obvious jealousy.

“Alright enough you two.” Said Kit seeming irritated.  

“And how can I help you Mr. Madden?” I asked curiously.

“Do you know the model for the Maybelline mascara add?” he asked be curiously.

I blinked in shock, “What an odd question.”

“Well you see, like myself, the girl in it has the most beautiful eyes and that’s the problem.” He explained.

“It is?”

“Yes. Because I’ve only seen her eyes. I’m dying to know what the rest of her looks like and Kit here thinks you might know who the model might be and can make an introduction.” He explained.

“Awfully presumptuous of Mr. Harington.” I commented.

“It’s an excuse. He just wanted to talk to you.” Said Richard pointedly.

“Thanks Rich.” Said Kit dryly.

I smiled in amusement, “Well it just so happens I do know the model for the 2017 Maybelline campaign.” I answered.

“Great. Do you think you could introduce me to her?” asked Richard.

“Certainly. Last I checked, she was over at the bar.” I replied, “Kit if you could take me over to Astrid Burgess, I’ll make the introductions.”

Kit threaded his arm through mine and led me through the crowd.

“Gerty darling.” Greeted Astrid’s voice, “I see you’ve got company.” She said, sounding surprised when she saw who was on my arm.

“Astrid, this is Kit. The guy I was telling you about.” I said pleasantly.

I felt Kit tense beside me.

“Kit,” said Astrid sounding absolutely delighted, “I’ve heard nothing but terrible things about you.” She said happily, “To what do I owe this displeasure?”

I heard Kit sigh deeply next to me. I was enjoying his uncomfortableness just a little too much and I couldn’t help the grin that had spread across my face, “A friend of Kit wants to meet you.” I said in way of explanation.

It was then I felt Richard step forward from behind me.

“Astrid, this is Richard. Richard this is Astrid.” I said making the introduction.

“Nice to meet you. I hope your nicer than the friends you keep.” Said Astrid, though I could hear the interest in her voice as she beheld Richard.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Said Richard, I could hear the smile in his voice.  

“Now tell me Astrid, are his eyes as really as blue as they say?” I asked with a smile.

I could hear the mutual interest in Astrid and Richard’s voice and I wanted to play matchmaker.

“Bluer.” She said after a moment.

“Told you.” Said Richard smugly.

The two then dissolved into conversation. Patting Koko’s head absently, I turned my attention to Kit, knowing the two of them would not be paying any attention to us as they were so focused on each other.

“Awfully nice of you to help your friend out.” I commented lightly, “Almost as nice as you recommending me for a job.”

“Well I don’t know many models and you were the first one that came to mind.” He said lightly.

He wasn’t fooling me. He’d wanted me specifically to model with him and I was beginning to understand why, “I know what you’re doing.”

“What?”

“Your forcing me to spend time with you.” I accused.

“Am I?” he asked innocently, “Why on earth would I do that?”

I narrowed my eyes, he was up to something. I wasn’t sure what but I knew he was planning something.

“You said you’d forgiven me. I thought we could take a step towards being friends again.” He said simply, “Friends work together all the time.”

I thought through the implication of his words before I spoke, realizing something about our previous relationship as I did, “Were we ever just friends?” I asked curiously.

“For a little time we were. Before we got together.” He explained.

“Are you hoping for history to repeat itself?” I guessed.

“I’m just wanting to work with a friend. Nothing more.” He said innocently.

I didn’t believe him. The flowers and him showing up to this event were one thing. But him demanding we work together? That was another.

I couldn’t be sure and I was hesitant to make such an intuitive leap but I thought, maybe, he was trying to win me back.

As if sensing the tone of my thoughts he added, “You look beautiful by the way.”

Oh yes. He was definitely trying to win me back.

That knowledge did strange things to me.

I thought it would strengthen my resolve, make me refuse to fall victim to his charms but instead, I felt his perseverance and whit slowly chipping away at my icy exterior.

It was dangerous for me to be around him. The more time I spent in his company, the more I was reminded of my old feelings for him. I began to fear my feelings that despite my insistence that I was over him, demanded to be heard.

I also feared that history would indeed repeat itself.

[almondbiscotti]

WFH Day 4: 9 April 2020

6.somethingam? – Housemates gives me a peck before he leaves for distancing ambassador work. I vaguely remember saying something to him and he says something back.

7.00am – Woken up by alarm. This time, I turn the damn thing off instead of snoozing.

8.27am – Jolted awake dear Lord I’m going to be late for work!! Wake up strangely tired. Remembered I was having a ridiculous dream where I was trying to decide on an outfit for a wedding of a sec school acquittance and nothing fit me and Sabrina (hello I know you read this) was trying to help me but seriously how to help a situation like this. Is this my body telling me I need to lose weight cos GOD DAMN IT.

8.28am – Boss checks in in the dept group chat reminding us we have a VC later at 10.

8.29am – I check in and acknowledge her text

8.30am – The bed is so comfy homg. Scroll scroll scroll through social media. Find Instagram post of girlfriend (think it’s fiancé liao) of an ex-boyfriend. Awww they’re sweet together. I’m happy for them. Really, I am. Random thought that people who over share their relationship on social media usually aren’t in great relationships flash across my mind. Realise who the heck cares, it’s all inconsequential to me.

9.03am – Finally get out of bed. Do the usual biz in the toilet. Should I make coffee or tea today? I’m enjoying the slowness at the start of the day before I go crazy at work because my to-do list is growing quite exponentially. I deserve this!

9.19am – I should probably put a bra on. The problem with VCing the same group of people most of the time is that you have to change your clothes. :/ I can’t wear the same cardigan every time or they’d think I’m weird. Would they think I’m weird? This is a damn first world problem I know. I know I know I know you come back and judge me when you have no first world problems.

9.21am – Contemplate showering. I usually shower in the morning before I leave for work but now with WFH, there isn’t really a point so I don’t. Usually shower in the afternoon though, cos it gets so damn hot. Of course, I also shower in the evening before bed. WHY AM I TALKING ABOUT SHOWER HABITS!?

9.22am – I shall make coffee. Oh and water the plants!

9.36am – Open all the windows in the house cos air flow is important.

9.40am – Hey Google, play Spotify.

9.41am - Homg Treacherous by Taylor Swift is really my jam. The song brings back a gazillion memories for me. Also, I miss the Housemate. ☹

9.43am – Wonder if I could get away with no wearing a bra since VC doesn’t show my chest anyway.

9.44am – Decide it’s not worth the risk and put on the damn bra. And a cardigan.

9.55am – WHY IS MY STOMACH BEING WEIRD GOD DAMN ITI HAVE A VC AT 10AM

9.59am – Fastest bowel movement of my life.

10.00am – Boss asks to delay VC to 10.10. God damn it.

10.10am – VC.

10.44am – VC ends. GOT MORE WORK HOW IS WFH BUSIER THAN WORK FROM OFFICE DEAR GOD

11.10am – Send out email to staff with stuff I owed them. Feels good flexing some of the muscles from my ACTA training. 😊

11.11am – Feels damn shiok to tick one thing of my ridiculously long to-do list n

11.13am – OKAY WORK WORK WORK WORK.

11.44am- WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING MAHJONG AT THIS TIME. I THOUGHT NO MORE SOCIAL GATHERING I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL CALL THE POLICE

12.41pm – I should make lunch.

12.42pm – Realise that housemate and I are running a little low on toilet paper. We actually legit have to go buy toilet paper. 

12.50pm – Make lunch! Lunch shall just be ramen noodles cos I’m really lazy.

1.00pm – OMNOMNOM Noodles are great. I added some veggies, egg and sliced cheese and it was really good.

1.01pm – Watch an English YouTuber as I eat. She lives in the countryside in England and she has a massive field as part of her property and I AM SO JEALOUS.

1.16pm – Done with lunch! I’ll wash the dishes later. NOMNOM PEAR! 😊

1.20pm – Okay fine I’ll wash the dishes now.

1.32pm – WORK WORK WORK. Seriously I think I’m more productive with WFH than in Office.

2.21pm – Video call with the tablemates! Ahhh so good to see these 2 girls 😊

2.22pm – HOUSEMATE IS HOME! I also rush to close all the windows and blinds in the toilets cos Housemate wants to shower.

2.30pm – After an extremely quick catch up with the girls, it is clear we’re all quite busy so we basically just camera on to occasionally look at each other but mostly we’re just doing out own work. It’s still nice. 😊

3.11pm – Call with the girls end because I wanna go collect mask from the gahment.

3.15pm – Walk to the collection point near my place to collect 2 masks, one each for housemate and me.

3.18pm – WHY ARE THERE SO MANY KIDS OUT PLAYING WHATEVER HAPPENED TO STAY AT HOME?!

3.19pm – I walk extra fast and try not to breathe lest any of these brats are contagious. Also, loud children disgust me.

3.23pm – Masks collected! I got the black ones! Really quick and easy.

3.30 pm – Pop by NTUC on the way back to grab shampoo and toilet paper. THEY RESTOCKED OYSTER SAUCE! Grab a bottle of that. And some fish pancake ice cream for my mother. and Magnum for Housemate. (And me. I love almond magnum)

3.31pm - DAFUG WHY IS THERE SO MUCH TOILET PAPER IN NTUC?! Also, I can’t find a single set of plastic tissue paper packets. You know, not the boxed kind, the plastic pack kinds. Actually, there aren’t many tissue boxes available. Are people hoarding those now? 

3.32pm - STILL NO BLOODY ONIONS AVAILABLE AT NTUC. WHY ARE PEOPLE HOARDING ONIONS?  

3.36pm – JESUS HOW DID I SPEND NEARLY 60 BUCKS AT NTUC!

3.37pm – Realise the shampoo and conditioner I use is very expensive. :/

3.45pm – HOME! Unpack everything. My freezer is really full.

3.52pm – SHOWER! Dear God I’m sticky and gross.

4.07pm – Play a game of Cookie Run on my phone. I love Cookie Run.

4.15pm – I should prep for my 4.30pm VC. Put on a bra, change my top. Fiddle with my hair. Argh my hair is an animal.

4.23pm – Sent the email I needed half a day to prepare for out. Phew.

4.30pm – VC!

5.30pm – VC ends. Happy to have made a good match between a MA and a dept. 😊

5.40pm – A flurry of emails! Go go go!

6.10pm – Okay done with the emails! Phew. My shoulders really ache.

6.11pm – Pluck some vegetables from the garden for my Mom. I’m seeing her to pass her some groceries today.

6.36pm – Reach Mom’s place, pass her the goods. She complains I’m late (I was supposed to be there at 6.30pm) She made fried rice for me! And cut some melon too! YAYYYYYYYY HAPPY TIMES

6.52pm – HOME! Fry eggs and opened a can of sardines to go with the fried rice. I add onions, sliced chili and a bit of mirin to the sardines. Makes it extra good. Normally I’ll add some lime juice too but I have no lime. I’d grow a lime tree but for some reason the limes I’ve bought were all seedless. O.o

7.02pm – SHOWER! Ahhh I have a webinar I signed up for that started at 7!

7.11pm – NOMNOM and watch NUS Webinar on Covid-19. Housemate eavesdrops and decides it’s interesting and watches with me.

7.30pm – It’s really quite interesting! We cast it on the TV so it’s bigger and easier to see the slide details.

8.something pm – Webinar ends! I’m gonna tune in for next week’s session. I’M LEARNING SO MUCH!

9.01pm - See email that my CMB sent. Argh, bad news. :( Email also reminds me I haven’t reported my twice daily mandated temperature readings yet. 

9.20pm - JESUS MY COMPANY’S VPN IS SO FRUSTRATINGLY SLOW I JUST WANT TO TELL YOU MY TEMPERATUTRE

9.32pm - FINALLY! I’m in. 

9.33pm - ALL DONE! :) 

And there ends WFH Day 4! 😊

[voodoochili]

A Special, EXTRA BIG Edition of Reviewing the Hits (2016/2017)

It’s that time again! It’s time to review every song that topped the Billboard Hot 100 in 2016. Wait, you’re saying “that time again” passed sometime in December, or at the very least January, when people still gave a shit about reviewing the year that was? Fair enough. In my defense, I like to let the dust settle a bit on these hits before I review them to try to get a big picture on the previous year’s pop trends. Either that, or I am unforgivably lazy. Probably a combination of the two. My apologies to my three or so loyal readers who look forward to this column every year!

As a special treat, and so people might actually want to read this in May 2017, I’m not only gonna review all of last year’s number ones, but review all of the current year′s number ones up to this point as well. Relevance! 

Just gonna do a quick rundown of 2016 (and I guess 2017), because it already feels like a billion years ago, but the most important trend on the charts in 2016 was the appropriation of Caribbean styles of music, particularly dancehall, into mainstream pop music. Hooray! Another fun, vibrant style of music for the pop charts to chew up and spit out until Ed Sheeran thinks it’s ok to use it.

The parallel story was the resurgence of Hip-Hop, the biggest beneficiary of new Billboard methodology that rewards stream counts as much as radio play. There are still many issues about Billboard methodology and the weighting and averaging of certain metrics over others, but the inclusion of streaming seems to me to be a positive development. Despite the surge in popularity of Hip-Hop in recent years, Top 40 radio is as segregated as it ever has been. Radio programmers are completely stuck in their ways, and less willing than they once were to shift genre or format boundaries to accommodate a rising hit song. The influence of streaming forces programmers hands, but they often don’t succumb to the popularity of the latest Hip-Hop or dance track until well after many genre fans are sick of it. Still, radio programmers still have control over what they play, and this can create a weird incongruity between the top song on the Billboard charts and the top song on the airplay chart--”Panda” and “Black Beatles” topped the charts, but you weren’t exactly hearing those tracks at shopping malls.

I guess what I’m getting at is this: Billboard is the culture now! Songs that would peaked in the outer reaches of the top 40 five years ago routinely reach the top ten--”Broccoli,” “2 Phones,””Don’t Mind,” “XO Tour Llif3″etc. Sometimes when I look at the charts these days, it feels like Billboard charts 80 of the most popular songs in America and leaves it to Complex and The FADER to pick the rest.

Edited to add: Can’t believe I forgot to mention this the first time around, but we are currently amidst a record run of men topping the Billboard chart. It’s been nearly a year since Sia topped the charts with “Cheap Thrills” and since The Chainsmokers’ and Halsey’s “Closer” came off the number one spot, there haven’t even been any female featured artists. I honestly have no idea what to make of this, and I have to think that it’s a blip. Hopefully, this will change soon and it won’t take another Taylor Swift or Adele to wrest the Billboard charts away from the grubby hands of Drake and Ed Sheeran and the rest of their male friends.

Anyway, onto the hits.

2016 - Pirates of the Caribbean

“Hello” – Adele; 11/14/15-1/16/16 (10 weeks)

Wrote about this song in last year’s recap! Here’s what I said (I still agree with most of it, though I probably would dock a point off the final score):

“Adele is the biggest star in music.  It’s taken as a given nowadays, but let’s take a moment to contemplate how strange this is.  Taylor Swift, Rihanna and Beyoncé have bigger Internet cults of personality and maybe more “cultural relevance,” but Adele is the only true four-quadrant star in today’s music business.  Adele is treated like a unicorn by the music press—“so she sold 3 million albums, but Adele is the exception.” Well, yeah, she’s the exception now, but she didn’t magically fall from the sky on a pile of platinum albums.  She developed.  She stopped being that Amy Winehouse-imitator that many pegged her as when she first came to America in 2009, and developed her own take on that retro-style, foregoing the brassy horns of ‘60s soul in favor of the revealing songwriting and acoustic bombast of ‘70s singer/songwriters like Carole King.  People these days seem to forget that Tapestry sold more albums than Off The Wall.  Adele’s unique combination of affable and engaging personality, polished songcraft and unmistakable voice got her to the top of the music world, but she’s no unicorn.  There can and probably will be another Adele, but only if they can belt out choruses as memorable as “Hello.”

Now for “Hello”: It’s alright.  The chorus is great and ridiculously fun to sing along to and the song and the production perfectly build until the chorus explodes.  Still, is this a song or just a chorus?  The verse lyrics do not add much to the chorus and they don’t provide a coherent emotional arc and too often it seems like Adele and her backing band are biding time until the chorus comes again.  Still, what a chorus!”

7/10

Justin Bieber - “Sorry”; 1/23-2/6 (3 Weeks)

A deceptively simple pop song with three chords, a dancehall beat, lots of cool sounds courtesy of Skrillex, and a maddeningly catchy chorus, “Sorry” feels like it should be better than it is. After a quatrain of massive hits in ‘15 and ‘16, Bieber enjoyed something of a critical rehabilitation, especially since most of pop radio seems engineered to recreate the hitmaking magic of “Sorry.” If you haven’t heard yet, Justin is an adult now, who likes to sing about “mature” subjects without any emotional maturity. I’ll give props to the man for trendspotting, but I’m not quite sold on his transformation. The superficially earnest and skin-deep faux-introspective lyrics are a bigger problem in his follow up hit, but the main thing that sidelines “Sorry” is Justin’ vocal, which is overly breathy, melodramatic, and often irritating. Still, it’s hard to deny the chorus melody and the production by Skrillex and Blood strikes an impressive balance between bubblegum pop and the harder-edged sounds for which Skrillex is famous. I don’t need to hear this song ever again, but it doesn’t make me mad.

5/10

Justin Bieber - “Love Yourself”; 2/13, 2/27 (2 Weeks)

“Love Yourself,” co-written by Ed Sheeran and produced with admirable restraint by Benny Blanco, recently won “Best Lyrics” in the 2017 IHeartRadio awards. Leaving aside award-winning couplets like “You think you broke my heart, oh girl for goodness sake/You think I'm crying on my own, well I ain't” and the censored title insult, “Love Yourself” is a cripplingly, hopelessly petulant song. It’s “methinks the lady doth protest too much” in musical form. To his credit, the Biebs does a decent job selling the performance--whatever sweetness there is comes from his voice not the composition. The stripped down arrangement, with amateurish, whispy electric guitar and a trumpet teleported in from a happier song, shines a spotlight on the nasty and vindictive words. I’m thinking that whomever Justin is singing about isn’t missing him too much.

2/10

Zayn - “Pillowtalk”; 2/20 (1 Week)

For a minute there it felt like 2016 would be dominated by former teen stars who are now all-too-proud to boast “Hey, I’m having sex now!” through their music. "Pillowtalk” is an oversung, oversexed, overproduced slog--clocking in at 3:25 that feels like an eternity. It aims for “Climax,” by Usher, but it barely reaches “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons. The song is called “Pillowtalk,” Zayn, so please stop shouting at me!

2/10

Rihanna - “Work” ft. Drake; 3/5-4/30 (9 Weeks)

A refreshingly minimalist, slinky slice of music box dancehall from the best damn pop star working. Nobody stood out on the radio in 2016 like Rihanna. The songs that tried to imitate “Work”--oh and there were plenty--failed to capture the confident spontaneity, effortless melodicism, and sheer force of personality exhibited by RiRi on the track. Most importantly, and the thing that makes “Work” such a radio standout, the producers know to stay out of Rihanna’s way, barely embellishing the original “Sail Away” riddim and letting the diva do her thing. “Work” sails towards a 10, but then Drake shows up to talk his favorite subject: what the object of his affection “used to” do. Ease up, man.

8/10

Desiigner - “Panda”; 5/7-5/14 (2 Weeks)

A bombastic trap anthem from an excitable Brooklyn teenager on the mic and a former Mancunian cell phone salesman behind the boards, “Panda” is one of the more unlikely number ones in a while. Desiigner bought the beat that eventually became “Panda” from producer Menace for the low low price of $200, after discovering the beat on YouTube. The track quickly caught fire, reaching the ear of Kanye West, who slapped his own version onto The Life of Pablo. Strangely enough, “Panda” caught more heat than any of Kanye’s solo tracks, climbing up the charts to become first solo rap hit to reach the top of the Hot 100 since 2011 (Wiz Khalifa, “Black & Yellow).

All that stuff is super cool and all, but besides the origin story, I'm fairly conflicted about this song. There are some truly unique aspects to the track that help me understand why it caught on so quickly. In an era where artists are encouraged to throw a hook at you right off the bat, it takes some balls for Desiigner to let the beat build--holding back for the first 40 or so seconds of the track, letting the natural contours of the instrumental and his wild ad-libs do the work. Did I say natural contours of the instrumental? Yeah, the beat is great. At first blush, it seems a bit rudimentary, but so few radio rap tracks actually have any dynamics--they’re all full steam ahead all the time. It’s refreshing and kinda weird to hear the LOUDquietLOUD formula that’s been done to death in alt-rock in a trap song.

But overall, despite the more interesting aspects, the whole of “Panda” is just garden-variety trap, but without the hook that makes trap music interesting--a unique personality. Desiigner can’t help if his rhythmic baritone sounds similar in timbre to Future, but he uses the EXACT SAME FLOW as Future as well. In fact, I bet there are STILL people out there who think that “Panda” is a Future song and the fact that it topped the charts before any real Future song feels a little bit like Pat Boone’s “Tutti Frutti” outselling Little Richard’s.

6/10

Drake - “One Dance” ft. Wizkid & Kyla: 5/14, 6/4-7/30 (10 weeks)

Leave it Drake to litter a scorching sample and piano loop with his atonal ramblings, magically transforming a potential banger into a Pavlovian stimulus to change the station. Do me a favor and listen to the original instead.

3/10

Justin Timberlake - “Can’t Stop The Feeling”: 5/21 (1 Week)

Like Pharrell’s “Happy,” JT’s “Can’t Stop The Feeling” is a feel-good cash grab from the soundtrack to a kids’ movie. Also like “Happy,” it’s a song that sounds a lot more like a jingle from a Coca-Cola commercial than a pop song that has any business near the radio. JT is a more engaging performer than Pharrell, so this has some sterile charm (and I dig the finger snaps), but mostly, this song is the sound of a once-great pop star grasping for a niche in today’s crowded marketplace now that the other Justin captured his sex appeal and Bruno Mars eclipsed him as the most beloved translator of ‘80s R&B slickness.

4/10

Sia - “Cheap Thrills” ft. Sean Paul: 8/6-8/27 (4 Weeks)

The second catchiest dancehall-influenced track to top the charts in 2016! (Due respect to “Work,” get lost “One Dance”). With the sound of pop music ever drifting toward the Caribbean, it was inevitable that one of pop music’s biggest dancehall crossover stars would rear his head for a comeback. And voila! Here is Sean-a Paul bringing back his bi-di-bam-bam to the pop charts, livening up an otherwise blah track. Sia, as usual, delivers a solid melody and a strong vocal, but the backing track is punchless with no memorable instrumental hooks and a barely noticeable rhythm section.

5/10

The Chainsmokers - “Closer” ft. Halsey: 9/3-11/19 (12 weeks)

When future social scientists study the popular music of America in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, they will find that a single turning point plunged the quality of the artform into an irreversible decline: the moment that one dude from the Chainsmokers psyched himself up in the mirror and convinced himself he could sing.

2/10

Rae Sremmurd - “Black Beatles” ft. Gucci Mane: 11/26-12/31; 1/14/17 (7 Weeks)

I’M A FUCKIN’ BLACK BEATLE CREAM SEATS IN THE REGAL ROCKIN’ JOHN LENNON LENSES LIKE TO SEE ‘EM SPREAD EAGLE...

ahem. excuse me.

It’s hard for me to retain my critical faculties when listening to this song, but I’ll try my hardest to succinctly describe why I think "Black Beatles” is one of the greatest rap songs of the past decade or so. 

First, Mike WiLL’s beat--with those strange, Eastern-style modal ascending fourths, the Glass-like arpeggiated synth riff that hangs in the air, the brilliant use of negative space in the bottom that transforms any room into a haze-filled cavern, those hi-hats that sound like a million monkeys crafting a masterpiece on a million typewriters...I can go on and on.

Second, I would like to congratulate Swae Lee and company for creating a five minute long song where nearly every moment is a hook. Seriously, there are at least seven or eight lines in Swae’s verse that could be the key line in a massive single (”New day, new money to be made,” “Like clockwork, I blow it all” “She think she love me, I think she trollin’”).

Third, while this might feel like a participation trophy for Gucci Mane and Slim Jxmmi, it’s not. Slim’s absurd lyrics and crazy high energy provide the perfect anchor lap, and Gucci’s verse provides some twisty wordplay as the cream filling the Rae Sremmurd oreo.

Are Rae Sremmurd the next Beatles? Probably not. Are they the trap N’Sync? Warmer. Either way, here’s to many more number one hits and trashed hotel rooms for these crazy kids, who hopefully never grow up.

9/10

2017 - THE YEAR THAT IS NOW

The Weeknd - “Starboy” ft. Daft Punk: 1/7 (1 Week)

In which Abel Tesfaye chops off his famous ‘do and magically transforms into Tears For Fears. Three-and-a-half minutes of build-up that never quite resolves into a climax. I’m not sure what Abel was going for with that chorus--”starboy” is a silly phrase that the song demands you take very seriously. I’m sorry--to me a “starboy” calls to mind the “Star Child” from the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey or a superhero’s sidekick. Maybe he’s trying evoke David Bowie (”staaaarmaaan”), but this is a lot more Starship than Stardust.

5/10

Migos - “Bad and Boujee” ft. Lil Uzi Vert: 1/21, 2/4-2/11 (3 Weeks)

A sinister, cavernous, evil trap banger like this topping the Billboard charts?--momma we made it. This year, people finally realized that putting three uniquely talented, rappin’-ass-rappin’ emcees who finish each others sentences and help each other out with absurd ad-libs on every track was a very good idea. Failing that, just grab Quavo and let him sang. As great as Quavo is on everything, and he comes through here with a brilliant secondary hook (”yeah..dat way”), the real star of “Bad and Boujee” is Offset, who peppers Metro Boomin’s track with rhythmic witticisms and provides the year’s most memeable chorus. As for Lil Uzi Vert (eyeaaah)...well... it would have been nice to hear Takeoff on this track, but no matter, he shines on the follow-up hit, and our nation’s new national anthem, “T-Shirt.”

Is Migos better than The Beatles? No. Is “Bad and Boujee” better than “Black Beatles”? Almost.

9/10.

Ed Sheeran - “Shape of You”: 1/28, 2/18-4/29 (12 Weeks)

RIP Dancehall (1985-2017) -- Killed by a charmless, rhythmically challenged chia pet and the tinniest, rinky-dinkiest production to ever top the charts.

1/10

Kendrick Lamar - “HUMBLE.”: 5/6 (1 Week)

Considering all that Kendrick Lamar has done in the past five years, it’s kind of remarkable that people were concerned that Kendrick Lamar might have to sand off his rougher edges to achieve mainstream acceptance. Well, here he is in 2017, the biggest pure rap star in the world, and he gets his first number one, not with an attempted crossover but with a lyrical exercise, with a spare, pounding, piano beat by Mike WiLL Made It. Kendrick’s long-awaited successor to “Backseat Freestyle,” “HUMBLE.” is a bracing listen with the rapper delivering memorable line after memorable line in lockstep with the beat. “HUMBLE.” doesn’t quite have the emotional range or level of detail as some of the better songs on DAMN., but then again, I can’t think of a number one hit since the heyday of B.I.G. that has this level of pure, athletic rapping.

8/10

Bruno Mars - “That’s What I Like”: 5/13 (1 Week)

I’ve been doing this post every year for over a decade, and in that time, Bruno Mars has had SEVEN number one hits. So I’ve had plenty of chances to write about Bruno and I’ve made my opinion on him very clear: dude is a skilled craftsman and talented performer who’s never had an original idea in his oft-fedora’d head. In the past, I’ve levied that as a criticism, but now...I kinda like the dude. All it took for me to change my opinion was for Bruno to stop aping people like Billy Joel and start aping people like Zapp and Roger, or the Gap Band, or Teddy Pendergrass. “That’s What I Like” echoes the adult-oriented R&B of the ‘80s, but it doesn’t feel like as much of a retread as Bruno’s other big hits—borrowing stylistic elements but not in an obvious way. It’s a well-constructed song, written in 2/2 time with jazzy chords, endearingly dumb lyrics (“wake up with no jammies” “Julio cook that scampi”), and a big fat ‘80s-style analog synth on the bridge. What’s not to like?

8/10

DJ Khaled – “I’m The One” ft. Justin Bieber, Quavo, Chance The Rapper, and Lil Wayne: 5/20 (1 Week)

Ever the master of A-List posse cuts, DJ Khaled built upon his recent Snapchat celebrity and earned his first number one hit with this beach bbq-ready slice of summer. This is possibly the most impressive combination of talent that Khaled has ever assembled on a song...so why is this so boring? I like most of the individual parts in the song, though I could really do without Bieber’s Caribbean patois at the end, but they come together to form this overlong mish mash. The main culprit, unfortunately, is the instrumental from Nic Nac, who I normally like a lot, which uses and abuses the ‘50s doo wop chord progression without dressing it up with sounds to make it more novel or interesting. I’m happy for Chance and Khaled for earning a #1, and I won’t change the station when it comes on, but “I’m The One” is overstuffed, brimming with wasted potential.

5/10

Luis Fonsi – “Despacito” (Remix) ft. Daddy Yankee & Justin Bieber: 5/27-6/10 (3 Weeks [so far])

The first Spanish-language track to top the Billboard charts since the “Macarena” propelled Bill Clinton to victory over Bob Dole in 1996, “Despacito” is an infectious, if rote, slice of Latin Pop, anchored by Puerto Rican cuatro and an expressive vocal from Luis Fonsi (who I’d embarrassingly never heard of before hearing this song). As the American monoculture fragments into dozens of competing scenes and genres vying for attention, the Billboard reign of “Despacito” demonstrates the positive effects of putting the charts in the hands of streamers instead of radio programmers.

Then again, those dastardly programmers had to sully this with a Justin Bieber intro. I understand that adding Justin Bieber to “Despacito” was the only way to convince English-speaking radio to play it, but its melody is plenty strong enough to stand on its own. The original version benefits from the counterweight between Fonsi’s verse and Daddy Yankee’s rap, which the Bieber intro throws out of whack. Add the fact that Bieber seems to lack respect for the original artists and it looks like a transparent cash grab from a guy who probably doesn’t need the cash. Still, 30 seconds at the beginning of the song can’t take away from the remarkable achievement from the two artists, nor the the Cuatro wizardry of Luis Fonsi.

6/10

BEST #1 of 2016: “Black Beatles”

WORST #1 of 2016: Lots of competition, but let’s go with “Pillowtalk,” narrowly edging “Closer”

BEST/WORST of 2017 coming at the end of the year--this is shaping up to become one of the best ever years for number 1 hits (no thanks to you, Ed).