#the only moment i will admit i might be spanish is when i watch football

[p0orbaby]

Stress Reliever

summary: important matches call for unorthodox methods

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, sex in a random room in a stadium? i have no clue, don’t judge

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this one, so kudos to whoever requested it !

word count: 2.7k

-

You’re in the stands, sipping a warm Coke that tastes like pennies, watching as eager fans filter into the stadium. It’s an hour until kickoff, and you’re trying not to panic because you have the seat of death. The one directly behind the pole. And not just any pole—oh no, you get the thick, structural support beam that’s been placed there by some sadist with a vendetta against sports fans. You can already feel the crick forming in your neck as you angle to see the pitch, bobbing and weaving like you’re on the world’s worst first date.

“Are you—?” A voice interrupts your internal monologue, startling you so much you nearly throw your Coke onto the unlucky person next to you. You look up, expecting to see a security guard, someone here to accuse you of something you definitely did do (sneak in a flask) but absolutely won’t admit to.

Instead, it’s a woman with a headset, wearing an expression of mild impatience—like she’s had to ask someone the same question three times. Which, judging by the size of this place, she probably has.

“Yeah?” you ask, because that’s the only word your brain can offer in the moment. Well, that and hotdog but you keep that one to yourself.

“Are you—” she checks her clipboard, which you find oddly official, like you’re about to be quizzed on the periodic table or something, “—the girlfriend?”

There’s a beat where you consider denying it because the word girlfriend still sounds weird in your ears. Like you’re not old enough for it or something. Like someone’s going to come along and snatch the title away from you because you got it out of a vending machine or a cereal box.

But then the woman’s staring at you, one eyebrow slightly arched, and you realise you haven’t answered, which is definitely making this more awkward.

“Uh…yes?”

“Great.” She doesn’t even wait for you to elaborate (which is good, because you definitely wouldn’t have). “Alexia needs you”

She says it like Alexia needs you is a normal sentence. Like you’re supposed to understand what that entails, as if you’ve been through this before.

“Oh.” You blink. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Another short answer. She’s probably fun at parties.

Your brain’s processing speed is at dial-up levels right now, but you eventually nod, clambering over knees and feet, mumbling apologies as you spill half your Coke in your lap. It’s warm, wet, and uncomfortable. The perfect metaphor for your life at this moment.

The woman with the headset leads you through a labyrinth of corridors, down staircases that don’t look like they’ve been used since the stadium was built, past signs that say things like “AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY” and “NO ENTRY,” which really do wonders for your anxiety. It’s as if you’re being led to the dungeons, or possibly to a secret basement where you’ll be quietly murdered before kickoff.

“Is everything…okay?” you ask, partly because you’re nervous, partly because you’re still in shock that Alexia asked for you. The Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona, Spanish football’s golden child. The one who should be doing pre-game rituals or eating her eighth banana by now, not…whatever this is.

“Yup,” says Headset Lady, who clearly graduated from the one-syllable academy of small talk.

You’re about to ask a follow-up question (something like are you a hostage negotiator on the side?) when she stops abruptly in front of a nondescript door that looks like it’s seen better days. There’s a small sign taped to it that reads “MEETING ROOM.” Creative.

“She’s in there,” Headset Lady says, handing you the clipboard like it’s a ticket to a secret club. You take it because refusing might lead to her finally using the taser you’re convinced she’s got hidden somewhere.

“Uh, thanks,” you say, because manners.

She gives you a curt nod, spins on her heels, and walks away without a backward glance, leaving you alone with the door, the clipboard, and a creeping sense of dread.

You’re about to knock when the door swings open and you’re pulled inside by a very strong hand. You barely manage to keep your balance, though your dignity is less fortunate.

“Jesus Christ, Alexia, a little warning?” you gasp, clutching your chest like someone’s ancient grandmother.

But Alexia isn’t listening. She’s pacing, her boots tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor, her expression a fusion of frustration and something you can’t quite place—like she’s trying to solve a really tough maths problem but someone keeps changing all the numbers.

“Babe?” you try again, this time a little softer, hoping to break through whatever spell she’s under.

She finally stops, turning to face you, and that’s when you notice it. The way her eyes are slightly glazed, her hands twitching at her sides. She looks like she’s about to combust from the inside out, like she’s been plugged into the world’s worst electrical socket.

You know that look. You’ve seen it before, but not like this. Not with this intensity, this…desperation.

“What’s going on?” you ask, though you think you already know. You’re just not sure you’re ready for the answer.

“I’m fucking freaking out,” she says, her voice low and tight, like it’s taking everything in her to hold it together. “I can’t—I can’t focus, I can’t think—I just—fuck!” She runs a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends like it’s their fault.

You step closer, cautious, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “Is there anything I can do?”

And that’s when she looks at you. Really looks at you. Her eyes narrow slightly, and you can practically see the lightbulb go off above her head. It’s not the comforting moment you were hoping for. It’s more like the moment in a horror movie when the killer realises the protagonist is hiding in the wardrobe.

“Actually…yeah.” Her voice drops an octave, and you swear the room temperature does too. “There is”

Oh no. You know where this is going. You’ve been here before. This isn’t the first time Alexia has decided that the best way to deal with her pre-game jitters is to channel them into something else. Something physical. Something that, once upon a time, you thought was a great idea.

You were wrong.

But it’s too late to back out now. You’re trapped, like a mouse caught in a particularly horny mousetrap.

“Here?” you squeak, glancing around the dimly lit meeting room, which is as unsexy as a room can get. The walls are beige, the carpet is a hideous shade of grey, and there’s a whiteboard in the corner with some sad-looking, lidless pens. It’s as if the universe decided to create the least erotic environment possible.

“Here,” she confirms, and you can’t help but notice the way her voice drips with something dark and dangerous. Something that makes your pulse quicken and your palms sweat.

“But what if—”

“No one’s coming in,” she interrupts, and there’s a note of finality in her voice that tells you this is happening whether you like it or not. “It’s locked”

“How did you even get a key?”

“Does it matter?”

It doesn’t, but you feel like you’re owed an explanation anyway. Because what if someone does come in? What if they see you—two responsible, adult women—going at it in a meeting room like hormonal teenagers? You can already see the headlines: “Football Star and Girlfriend Caught in Bizarre Pre-Game Ritual”

“Alexia, I—”

She’s on you before you can finish the sentence, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you against her. Her lips crash into yours, and suddenly the room isn’t so cold anymore. It’s like being hit by a freight train made of pure sexual frustration, and for a moment, all you can do is hang on for dear life.

But then the reality of the situation hits you. You’re about to have sex in a room that smells faintly of wet dog and failed business deals. This is not how you pictured today to go. You imagined something more…romantic. A win celebrated in a plush hotel room, or at the very least a place with a bed.

But Alexia doesn’t seem to care. She’s already pawing at your clothes with a speed that’s both impressive and alarming, like she’s done this a thousand times before. Which, now that you think about it, she probably has. Just…not here. Or so you hope.

“Wait, wait,” you pant, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Nope,” she says, but she doesn’t stop, and neither do you, because you’re weak and she’s hot, and who are you kidding? You’re definitely going to do this.

It’s not graceful. It’s not even sexy, really. It’s more like a frantic scramble to get clothes off while trying not to knock over a stack of chairs. You’re pretty sure you elbow her in the ribs at one point, and she steps on your foot twice, but neither of you cares because there’s a bigger issue at hand.

You think about saying something witty, something to break the tension, but then she’s on you again, and words are suddenly the last thing on your mind. All you can do is hold on and hope the table doesn’t collapse under the weight of your combined bad decisions.

She pushes you back onto the table, her hands firm on your shoulders, and suddenly the wood beneath you feels a lot harder than it looked a second ago. It’s all happening too fast, but not fast enough, and when her mouth finds yours again, it’s all teeth and urgency. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask permission because it knows it’ll get what it wants anyway.

Her hands are everywhere, pulling at your shirt, fumbling with the buttons like they’re some kind of cruel joke. You help her out, batting her hands away, only to struggle just as much. It’s like your fingers have forgotten how to work, each movement clumsy and desperate. When you finally manage to yank your shirt over your head, you feel a brief, victorious rush, like you’ve conquered a small but significant mountain.

She barely gives you time to breathe before she’s back on you, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck, her hands sliding up your sides. You gasp as her fingers slip under your bra, her thumbs brushing over your nipples with just enough pressure to make you arch against her.

“Fuck,” you whisper, because it’s the only word that makes sense right now.

She grins against your skin, clearly pleased with herself, and you know you’re in trouble. Alexia knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s doing it well. Too well, actually. The kind of well that makes you forget where you are, why you’re here, and who you are as a person.

Her hand trails down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, and you suck in a breath, half expecting her to stop, to clock on how ridiculous this all is. But she doesn’t. She just keeps going, popping the button on your jeans with a quick flick of her fingers, pulling the zipper down in one smooth motion. You lift your hips to help her slide them down, and suddenly the cold air hits your bare legs, making you shiver. But it’s not the temperature that’s getting to you—it’s the anticipation.

She’s back on you in an instant, her fingers finding their way inside your underwear, brushing against you in a way that makes your breath catch. Her touch is light at first, almost teasing, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. She’s not in the mood for games, and neither are you.

“Please,” you murmur, not entirely sure what you’re asking for, but knowing you need it.

She doesn’t make you wait. Her fingers slide inside you with a confidence that comes from knowing exactly what you like, how you like it, and how quickly she can drive you insane. And she’s doing it now, the slow, steady rhythm making you forget all about the uncomfortable table beneath you, the smell of stale coffee in the room, the fact that someone could walk in at any moment. None of it matters. All that matters is her, and the way she’s making you feel like you might come undone right there in that drab, fluorescent-lit room.

You cling to her like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, your hands digging into her back, your nails leaving marks that you know take back to the changing room with pride. The table creaks beneath you, protesting with every thrust of her hand, but you don’t care. You can barely think, let alone worry about the state of some cheap office furniture.

When she curls her fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. The last thing you need is for someone to hear you, but fuck, it’s hard. Especially when she starts moving faster, her thumb brushing over your clit with just the right amount of pressure to push you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re so close now, teetering on the brink, and she knows it. You can see it in the way she’s watching you, her eyes dark and intense, like she’s savoring every moment, every gasp and moan she pulls from your lips. It’s almost too much, the way she’s looking at you, like she’s claiming you, owning you in a way that goes beyond this moment, this room.

And then you’re falling, your body tensing as the wave crashes over you, pulling you under. You bite down on her shoulder, muffling the sound of your release, and she groans at the feeling of your teeth sinking into her skin. It’s raw and primal, and at this point in time, you don’t care about anything else but the way she’s making you feel.

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, working you through your orgasm until you’re trembling beneath her, your breath coming in ragged gasps. When she does finally pull her hand away, you feel the loss of her touch like a physical ache, but you’re too spent to do anything about it.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing and the distant roar of the crowd outside. The game is about to start, but for once, it’s the last thing on your mind.

When she finally pulls back, you expect her to say something, but she just looks at you, her expression softening in a way that makes your chest warm. There’s something unspoken in her eyes, something you’re not sure you’re ready to acknowledge, but it’s there all the same.

“Better?” you ask, your voice shaky, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

She smirks, that familiar, cocky grin returning as she reaches down to adjust her shorts. “Much”

You laugh, weak and breathless, but it’s genuine. Because despite the absurdity of it all—the meeting room, the table, the fact that you’re still half-naked in the most unromantic setting imaginable—it was exactly what you both needed.

You sit up, wincing as your muscles protest, and begin the awkward process of getting dressed again. Alexia helps, her hands lingering a little longer than necessary, and you swat at her playfully, even though you’re secretly glad she’s not ready to let go just yet.

“We can’t make this a thing,” you say, though you know it’s a lie the second it leaves your mouth.

“Sure we can,” Alexia replies, already pulling on her shorts like nothing happened. Like you didn’t just defile a piece of office furniture.

“You owe me,” you grumble, trying to smooth down your hair, which now looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.

“Add it to the list,” she says with a wink.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Because yeah, it was reckless and stupid and definitely not sanitary, but damn if it wasn’t one hell of a way to start a match.

“Good luck,” you say, and you mean it.

She gives you a look that says I don’t need luck, and you believe her. Because if she can handle you, she can handle anything.

As you walk out of the meeting room, legs still a little shaky, you can’t help but wonder if this will become a regular thing. You hope not.

Then again…maybe you don’t.

[lgbtuan]

hmmmmmmm we just won la copa?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

[pascalpanic]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Five

Summary: It’s girls night at the Murphys’, Connie declares, since you, Lorena, and Connie all have this Friday night off. After meeting Steve, reader also discovers that she’s standing right above Javier’s apartment. 

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language and innuendo, brief mentions of sexual stuff but like, it’s brief

A/N: Well, this chapter is super cute and I really love it! Hope you guys like it like I do! Thanks to @remmysbounty​ for being my proofreader and giving me ideas, specifically for this night! This chapter is so cute you guys I love it! (this is the last fluff you’re going to get in this series for a while so... enjoy it now) this fic also really encouraged to me with my anxiety over wearing a scrunchie in public (I know I’m super lame), so thanks to @remmysbounty, @lunasblipsandblurbs and @mandoalorian for being my encouraging team and telling me that scrunchies are definitely still cool!!

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The bottle of wine on your counter looks more and more enticing as it grows closer to 6:30. You, Connie, and Lorena all had the luck of having this Friday off, and Connie had decided that a celebration was in order, inviting the two of you to her apartment. You’re excited: it’s a night with two of your favorite people in all of Colombia, and you finally get to meet Steve, who you’ve heard plenty about from both Javier and Connie.

As the hour draws closer, you decide to head over a little early. You and Connie had compared addresses and found that the two of you lived fairly close to each other, and you set out on your walk. 

When you reach the building, you walk inside and knock on the door with the number Connie told you. The door opens and reveals a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes- you think he could be Connie’s brother, you almost chuckle to yourself. “Hey,” the man says, a light southern drawl evident in his tone. “Connie, one of ‘em’s here,” he calls out into the apartment before letting you come in. “I’m Steve, nice to meet ya,” he says with a smile.

You introduce yourself and he nods, noting that the name is familiar. Connie rushes out, excitedly smiling as she sees you. “Hey!” she practically squeals, rushing to hug you before taking the bottle of wine you hold and setting it on the counter. “Well, you’ve met Steve now,” she chuckles, nodding at him, and he nods back. “He’s just going to be hanging around tonight.”

“Might get a beer with Javier,” he tells her, and she shrugs.

“Might as well. Just stay out of our way,” she threatens, a sweet smile on her face opposing her tone, but she laughs quickly. It’s simply the way the two of them interact, you can tell, and it’s kind of cute. 

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom quick?” You ask, and Connie nods.

“Oh, of course. It’s just down there and to the left,” she tells you, and you follow her directions.

As you sit on the toilet, you can hear them talking. You ignore it until you hear Javier’s name mentioned again, catching your attention.

Connie’s voice is muffled but clearly giddy. “That’s the one, Javier’s girl,” she tells him, and you can hear Steve give a little chuckle.

“She’s cute.” “She’s not just cute, she’s gorgeous,” Connie laments. “Has Javi talked about her?” “Nope.”

“You’re probably just too thick to even notice if he did anyway.” “Hey! And no, he hasn’t mentioned anything about her. I already mock him enough for his tastes. He likes her though, that much is clear. And he hasn’t even slept with her yet- impressive for him. That must take some self control for Jav.”

That makes you warm a little on the inside. He’s into you. You feel like a teenager, and you cover your mouth with your hand as you give out a little giggle. 

There’s a knock at the door moments later, and you can hear Lorena’s voice ringing through the apartment. You finish up in the bathroom and grin at the sight you return to: Connie and Lorena, in casual clothing, holding glasses of wine with a third one at the counter for you. The three of you chatter for a little, slowing it down for Lorena. She’s not a fantastic English speaker, but she’s fluent enough, and Connie isn’t great at Spanish.

A few minutes later, Steve grabs a six-pack of beers from the fridge and heads towards the door. “Heading to Javi’s,” he tells Connie, kissing her head as he passes your little group.

He opens the door, and you find it strange that the beer is all that he’s carrying. “No coat?” You ask, tilting your head a little.

“We should get you in the DEA. We need observant people. Everyone around there walks with their heads up their asses,” he chuckles and opens the door. “No,” he says and looks at Connie, as if asking why you don’t know. She shrugs and he shrugs back. “Javi lives just downstairs, apartment beneath us. Holler if you need anything,” he tells Connie and closes the door behind him. 

“Javier lives downstairs?” you ask, eyes widening and heart fluttering at the idea that you’re in such close proximity to him. “Steve is DEA?” Lorena asks, big eyes widening like yours did. 

Connie is suddenly feeling bombarded, her pale face flushing with a little red. “Uh, yeah. To both. You really didn’t know that, Lori?”

“You said he was a janitor!”

“Lori, they don’t send people from the U.S. down to Colombia just to be a janitor,” you tell her with a gentle chuckle. Lorena is innocent and naive, you and Connie both know that, but you’d figured growing up in Colombia during Escobar’s reign of terror would’ve made her at least somewhat more knowledgeable. “I just believed what you told me,” she murmurs and sips her glass of wine.

-

Javier cracks a beer open and immediately takes a swig. “Connie’s never been one for girls nights, has she?” he asks Steve. He usually comes down here if there’s a fight between the two of them, or if Connie’s working the graveyard shift and he needs a drinking partner, but a girls night hasn’t been a reason yet.

Steve shakes his head and opens his beer too. “Nope, not really. She’s got two new best friends now, looks like. One of them is that American girl she works with,” he says and raises an eyebrow, raising his bottle to his lips to take a drink. He says your name, drawing it out and watching Javier’s expression.

Javi sighs, though the thought of you being in the room above him is exciting. “We’ve been over this, Stephen. You can’t mess with me the way you think you can.”

“Yes I can, Jav,” he chuckles and kicks back on Javier’s couch, turning on the television. Javier sits down next to him with a bowl of popcorn, sighing and shaking his head. As the football match plays out in front of them, Javier’s mind keeps drifting to the apartment above him. He wonders what you’re wearing: he’s only ever seen you, but he’s thought about how you’d look in a nice dress, in jeans, in nothing at all and splayed out in his bed- stop, Javier, he has to remind himself. Focus on the football game, and pray that Steve needs something from upstairs.

-

As Connie gets up to get another bottle of wine, she picks up a bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. “Damn. Steve was gonna give this to Javier tonight,” she says with a frown. It immediately forms a smile as she turns to you. “Why don’t you bring it down there for them?” She asks you, grinning ear to ear.

“Yes, I think they need it,” Lorena chimes in, nudging your shoulder with hers. 

You shake your head at her proposition, laughing. “Why don’t you bring it down there yourself?” you ask her as you finish your glass of wine, setting it down on the counter and giving her a pointed look.

Connie holds the whiskey out in front of you with a pout, blue eyes wide. “Come on! Don’t you want to see him?” She asks with a giggle, grinning ear to ear. “It’s easy. Tell them I’m making them- ooh, should I make cookies? Then we can get Javier to come up here and get them once they’re done and you can see him, Lori, he’s really cute.”

“I want in on the cookies!” You exclaim, mockingly offended.

“No cookies if you don’t go bring this to Javi,” Connie practically sings and wiggles the bottle in front of your face. “Come on. Just tell him I’ll call down there when they’re ready and he can come get him,” she asks.

You sigh and take the bottle from her. “What, are we 13? Do you want him to admit he has a crush on me?” You ask dryly, standing. “Maybe we can hold hands in the stairwell between classes,” you roll your eyes, though you’re smiling.

The two girls cheer after you as you walk out of the apartment, closing the door behind you and hearing Connie and Lorena giggling, even from the hallway. You walk down to the apartment directly below Steve and Connie’s, taking a deep breath before knocking twice.

The door opens to reveal Javier, wearing a casual button-up shirt and jeans. He looks a bit surprised to see you, but he smiles as he recognizes that it’s you. “Hey,” he chuckles, a hand on his belt loop, the other leaning in the doorway.

“Hi,” you says with a growing smile that matches his. 

“I, uh. I like the scrunchie,” he says, gesturing to the cloth that’s holding part of your hair out of your face.

“Thanks,” you say, laughing a little at his compliment. “I like the apartment,” you say, gesturing behind him.

“Thanks,” he says too, looking down at the whiskey in your hands. “Do you want to come in?” He offers, moving in the doorway so that it’s accessible to you.

“Oh, no,” you shake your head and hold out the bottle. “Connie said Steve forgot this, so she sent me down to give it to you. Oh, and she’s making cookies. She said you’ll have to come up and get them when they’re done.”

Steve gets up from the couch, noticing that you’re there. “Damn, that’s right,” he chuckles and takes the bottle from you. “Forgot about that. Thanks for bringing that down. Connie’s a great baker, and I guess she knows about Javier’s sweet tooth,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow at Javier, asking if it’s true. He makes a little dismissive face and shakes his head softly, making you giggle. “Well, I’m gonna head back up. Connie said she’ll call down here when the cookies are ready.” “Thanks for bringing that down,” Steve tells you with a nod, heading into Javier’s kitchen to grab glasses for the liquor.

“Of course. I’ll see you later,” you tell Javier with a smile, and he smiles back and gives you a nod. 

You turn away and walk back down the hallway. You don’t turn, but if you did, you’d catch Javier watching you with a dopey smile on his face. His eyes are trained on your ass, how good it looks in those tight jeans you’re wearing.

-

About an hour later, after munching on the leftover cookie dough and about two bottles of wine in, the timer dings on Connie’s oven. She hops up from her spot and heads to the oven, grabbing the treats. You and Lorena both sigh at how good the smell of the freshly-baked dessert is, and Connie comes back with wine bottle number three. “You two open that. I’m going to call down to Javi’s,” she tells you and wiggles her eyebrows, making you roll your eyes at her as you uncork the bottle and pour more for all three of you.

Lorena immediately takes a swig from her newly filled glass, getting up from her spot and stealing a cookie from the tray on the oven. She hums happily as she eats it, walking back to her spot. 

Connie chatters on the phone, her tone indicating that she’s clearly talking to Steve. “No, send Javi up,” she whispers, thinking you can’t hear it. You can.

Once she hangs up, she scoops some cookies onto the plates and you and Lorena chat mindlessly, both sipping at your wine glasses. Connie unlocks the front door before returning to the counter and sitting down with the two of you. You continue your conversation from before, taking a bite of a cookie and immediately feeling transported home. Your eyes close as you savor the taste, but they open a moment later as there’s a knock at the door. “It’s open,” Connie calls out, and Javier walks in.

You notice that his jeans are tight, very tight, and bite down on your lip at the image your mind conjures. You give a little wave and he chuckles. “So this is Lorena,” he says as he gestures to the girl sitting between the two of you. She nods, grinning at him, and he walks closer, offering her a hand to shake. “Wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you,” he tells her with a charming smile.

Lorena giggles a little at that, sipping her wine. “Likewise,” she tells him and gestures to you with her head. “Mainly from her.” You roll your eyes but smile as you see the pleased expression on Javier’s face. “Oh, Javi,” Connie says, popping up quick. “I wanted Steve to take pictures for us earlier but I forgot. Will you take them for us?” She asks hopefully, a hand on his arm. He nods and she grins. “Great! I’ll be right back.” She rushes out of the room to grab the camera.

“So how’s it going down there?” You ask him and sip your wine. 

“Typical. Steve and I are drinking in silence and watching soccer,” he chuckles, taking a cookie from the plate and biting into it. “Damn, she really is a good baker,” he sighs as he eats the rest of it.

Connie returns a few moments later with her Polaroid. “Okay, get up ladies,” she chuckles and hands Javier the camera. “Take three, so we can each have one.”

“Yes ma’am,” Javier chuckles as the three of you get arranged, tiny, 4’11” Lorena in the middle, you and Connie on either side. You all grin at the camera and Javier takes three successive pictures, with breaks in between for the photos to pop out of the bottom. 

As they develop, Connie coos over the pictures even though just your silhouettes are visible at this point. “Oh, you two should get a picture together!” She exclaims with wide eyes as she looks up at you and Javier. Once again, a silent question and answer passes between you: you ask him with a lifted eyebrow, Javier shrugs as if to say ‘why not’ and gives you a smile. 

“Sure,” you nod, and Javier hands Connie the camera. 

“Okay, I’ll take one for each of you. The first one will be yours, Javi,” she tells him as she positions the two of you then backs up to a distance to take the picture.

You and Javier each have an arm around the other’s waist, and Connie positioned your hand on his chest. As she brings the camera to her eye, you get an idea and grin. Javier’s already smiling for the picture, and you bring your lips to his cheek, pressing a kiss there for the picture. He gives a little chuckle, and you can feel the way it vibrates in his chest with the palm pressed to his heart. “Aw,” Connie laughs as she takes the picture from the slot, and Javier presses a kiss to your head while neither of the women are looking, making your heart melt.

“My turn,” he murmurs to you, and while Connie prepares the camera, he kisses your cheek, wrinkled from the wide smile on your face. Both of the girls coo as Connie takes the picture, and you laugh a little at the way they react. 

When both pictures are done, you lightly pat Javier’s chest and break from his arms. You grab the plate of cookies and his Polaroid picture from the table, handing them both to him. “Why thank you,” he chuckles and pulls you into a side hug.

“Are you just being nice to me because the girls are watching?” You ask him teasingly, your arm going around him as well.

“Tonight you’ve given me whiskey and cookies. Of course I’ll be nice to you when you do that,” he teases right back, and you laugh, your head falling into his shoulder.

“Don’t eat them all on the way down,” Connie threatens him. “I do like you more than Steve sometimes, but he’d put me on the first flight back to Miami if he didn’t get any of those cookies,” she says and nods to the plate.

“I’ll try not to,” he says, nodding obediently. Javier squeezes your side gently before breaking away from her. “Nice to meet you, Lorena,” he says again and gives a little wave before heading out of the apartment. 

You smile to yourself as you pick up your two photos: one with you and your best friends, one with you and Javier. It really has been a perfect night, you think with a sigh, and munch on another cookie. Little do any of you know how wrong things are about to go.

-

taglist:

@wonderlandgabby​ @diogodxlot

[bumbershots]

SUCK IT AND SEE

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my (very very late) part for the amazing Playlist fic challenge that @harrystylescherry put together. The song I chose is Suck it and see by the Arctic Monkeys. I had it ready back in April but I didn’t love it to be honest, but I do now, so hopefully you will too. In all honesty I loved it a little bit too much so this can be taken as the prologue for a new series, I will be posting the details for it next week :) enjoy!

Summary: Harry reflects on his decision to “Suck it and see” when it comes to his relationship with Selena. He decides that no matter how things turn out… good or bad it's worth the experience and gives him the opportunity to always be the person she needs him to be.

Word count: 2.3K

Trigger warning: mention of depression.

The Wellington is slowly filling up, Harry is done tuning his guitar, his eyes quickly scan the usual clientele. A sigh escapes his lips before he takes another sip of the pint he ordered. He needs to calm down.

It’s a quiet Tuesday night, so the usual elderly gentlemen and a few students occupy the place eating fish and chips and drinking as they argue about football, their families or their jobs. Harry sits by the small stage that is set across the bar, fiddling with the strings of his favourite instrument.

The door has opened at least seventy times, and every single one of them has the nineteen year old craning his neck to see if it’s Selena. But his stomach clenches after finding out, once more, that it’s not her.

“Mate it’s half past ten,” he hears Sarah’s voice from behind and he sighs again before nodding in acceptance and defeat.

“Let’s do it then.” Harry rises and stands close to his assigned microphone while the other two band members also join them in the small platform.

After a year of playing in the most shitty and not so shitty places all over London, the band was offered a chance at a small record company. Tonight was the last show they performed at this place, soon they would be chasing bigger venues and dreams.

With that in mind the bass player, Yuri, steps up to his own microphone to speak. “It’s time for some music.” His sweet voice claims the regulars attention, just as Sarah counts to four hitting her drumsticks together and Mitch plays the opening chord for the first song of the night.

Three years ago, when the band was just a thought drifting around Harry’s mind, he would daydream about this moment, the last show because they’ve finally made it. Their usual fans would gather near the stage for a better glimpse and sing along the familiar tunes. He would finally master a solo and when it was all over, his eyes would meet a pair of familiar ones watching from the bar, she would be equally smiley, a proud look on her face as she claps and cheers louder than anyone.

In the last two months, that mental image has permanently settled on his brain. Harry Styles wanted success for his band more than anything, but not more than seeing her at the end of it all. Which is why after the set comes to an end, he refuses to look up. He knows she’s not there.

Had she come in at some point during their performance, he would’ve noticed, even with all the ruckus done by the now considerable crowd in the pub. If Selena had set foot on the place, Harry would’ve known.

“Thank you for everything, you’ve been amazing tonight and every night before,” Yuri‘s words pull him back from the trance, but he keeps his gaze away from the bar, he settles for the back of the bass player’s head as he speaks for the last time. “This isn’t the last you hear from The Cherry Blossoms!”

There’s a lot of cheering and applause and Harry is suddenly mad about not finding it satisfying enough. He knows he will hate himself for it, but before walking off the stage, he looks over at the bar.

She’s not perched on a stool like the first time they played in here, sipping on some soda because of her lack of tolerance to alcohol. She’s not skipping over to hug him. Where is she? Harry wonders what could possibly be more important than this.

I will be there of course. I’m your biggest fan, after all. She so smugly declared on their last phone call, a week ago.

The urge to call her is too much, but Harry knows that if for some reason, she doesn’t pick up the phone. He will finally lose it. Instead he joins his band mates for a celebratory drink.

Listening to Yuri gush about Sarah’s drumming and complimenting Mitch on his skills as well, lifts Harry’s spirits a bit. If only for the next hour, he’s going to enjoy and bask into their triumph. And he’s so sure that there’s a perfect explanation for her absence, that he does end up having a good time. He ignores the heavy feeling in his chest, a reminder of the power that girl holds on him.

◇

A sleepy Selena Lara mumbles nonsense, slowly waking up and becoming aware of an annoying ringtone blasting through the small flat, it stops for a minute until it goes off again and now she definitely knows the mobile belongs to her.

“Hello,” she greets so earnestly, despite the sleepy rasp in her voice, that Harry can perfectly picture the slow process that is her waking up.

He hears some rustling on her end and it plays like a movie before his eyes. The way she sits up, rubs her eyes and keeps them closed for about five minutes. Harry always gets out of bed before her, and it’s always him watching —watching her come awake, little by little, slow but sure. Harry wishes to be a witness of it more often, everyday if possible. Even if sometimes Selena takes a really long shower, or if some days she only mumbles some words before snuggling herself onto the sofa and falling right back asleep. Harry doesn’t mind, never will.

But he ignores the warm feeling he gets just by thinking about her.

“Where were you last night?” he says instead.

“What?”

“Last night, when the band played its last gig at The Wellington. You didn’t attend.”

“You thought I was going to be there?” Selena flops back onto her side, taking the duvet with her until she’s cocooned once again. “Harry I love you, but you know I couldn’t possibly afford a flight back home.”

“Why?”

She sighs, this conversation was bound to take place between them at some point. “The program at Bunka is… intense, to say the least. I almost failed a class so there is not a chance for a scholarship, I need to find another job if I want to be able to pay for tuition.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” They both know why. If Harry had known that she wouldn’t be there, he would have refused to even set foot at the pub.

“I was embarrassed.” Selena admits with a light shrug she knows he can’t see. “I know I don’t have a valid reason to be, I have proper housing, food, and a job. But I just feel so frustrated at this school.” She mumbles something at the end that he can’t understand, but it sounds a lot like her doubting her own talent.

After eight years of friendship, Harry knows pretty much everything about Selena and vice versa. They trust each other, with all they have. Which is why he’s hurt after hearing about this just now.

“How long have you felt this way?” He asks, not sure if the answer is something he will like.

“About four months.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Harry considers the merits of lecturing Selena, but he would never kick her when she’s down. Also he’s aware that Selena knows she should trust him with things like that, they’ve never been too shy to share their feelings with each other. It’s what brought them into this situation anyway.

It started two years ago, the last summer Selena spent in England, right before she moved to Japan and studied fashion design. It started with them going to that party, separating as usual, agreeing on a reasonable hour to meet at the door and leave together. It started with Selena wearing a skirt that made Harry want to do all kinds of things for her. It started with Harry offering to leave earlier and placing his hand on the small of her back all the way back home. It started with Selena kissing him in the dark and instead of a beginning it felt a lot like crossing the finish line of a marathon.

It kept going even after that summer, because Harry insisted on calling her all sorts of pet names and giving her kisses on the cab ride to the airport. It kept going because Selena got a Skype account and sent Harry an invite. And it is surprising to anyone and no one really that it lasted two years already.

The only problem is that they hadn’t talked about it. The I love you Harry whispered after that first night together and the I knew it! Selena triumphantly acclaimed before bursting out one of her unattractive laughs. To this day remains the only talk they had, Harry doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Shit,” Selena mumbles after checking the time, “I have to get ready for work.” She wants to say something to appease him, anything. Harry is waiting for the words to come out of her pretty mouth.

Selena is good with words, knows a lot of them in English, Spanish, French and Japanese. She was popular for speaking up against unfairness at school, and was running a monthly column at an online magazine. But she doesn’t have any right now. Selena doesn’t want to tell him how much she hates the program, how stupid it makes her feel, how she longs for the day she can finally be done and never look back on it. Selena doesn’t complain. She doesn’t get frustrated. She doesn’t quit. Ever.

“But we’ll Skype tomorrow, alright?” It’s better than nothing so Harry takes it.

“Of course, have a good day baby.”

Selena ends the call and groans. She doesn’t want to overthink about her relationship Harry, it’s the only good thing she has right now. With a shake of her head and a proper stretch of her limbs, she gets out of bed.

But it occurs to her in the middle of a three hour lecture, that she might have been cruel with Harry. He asked if she would attend the gig and she said yes, as if there weren’t thousands of kilometres between them. She knows he will never talk about this, and that she was already forgiven by him. She thinks about the fees his mobile carrier is charging him with all those calls he makes every week. She feels bad about not being able to love him the way he needs to be loved.

Because when it all started she never thought of it lasting past that summer when they made promises hard to keep. But Harry, always kind and attentive Harry, didn’t let her slip away. He gave her space to recharge when she needed it and she always came back feeling guilty about it, because she always enjoys the time apart. He always sent a care package at the beginning of the month with her favourite sweets. He praised all of her designs, no matter how much she insisted they were not even that good. You know nothing about fashion he would say with a roll of his eyes and Selena would smile, forever fond of his antics, forever fond of him and him alone.

It occurred to Selena that she always sort of had a crush on Harry —a crush everyone knew about. But even that didn’t stop her from being cruel to Harry, even that wouldn’t force her to answer his Skype call the next day or the one after that. She remembers how Harry claimed to be the more infatuated one with whatever they were doing. One of their last nights together, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and breathed against the crook of her neck just how many times he’d dreamt about being with her like that.

Selena warned him, knowing that train of thought might lead to a conversation she didn’t want to have, not then. But he laughed and his hot breath against her skin made her dizzy. Sorry, but you’ve got such a pretty face I’m sure it’s going to break me a little. What else is there?

What else is there, Selena thinks now, as she closes her laptop after ignoring all of Harry’s Skype calls. She turns off her phone too, because she knows his MO well enough and that is his next resource. It’s the first time she does it and it feels cruel again. She wonders how much more of this will Harry endure, how long until he stops trying to reach her and finally realises that it’s not worth it. That she doesn’t want him to comfort her, that she is not going to talk about how tired of everything in her life she is. Selena can’t give up, not after everything her family is expecting her to achieve.

But she doesn’t know just how much Harry truly feels about her, how much he longs for her to know that the way she has of caring for him is enough and he will take it, will always take anything if it’s coming from her.

Harry knows that being apart is hard, so he always tries extra hard to communicate, be patient and endure. But having to sit alone at his flat, unable to do a single thing, a single damn thing for Selena, that is something he refuses to keep doing. Having to watch from half the world away, knowing he can’t do a single thing about it. That is enough to break Harry Styles. Without a second thought he opens his laptop once again, this time to search for the next flight to Japan.

He’s a fool, for spending so much money on a flight to see how his friend with benefits is doing. And suddenly he remembers all the times Selena’s been trying not to break his heart. But he can’t help wanting to be there for her, maybe after this, they will finally have that conversation. Nothing is certain as Harry packs a small luggage, nothing really is when it comes to her.

As he boards the aeroplane a day later though, the pressure on his chest disappears. Whatever happens now can’t be a bad thing, not when he’s seeing Selena anyway.

[dameronology]

even in the darkest hour {javier peña x reader}

summary: javier comes home late one night after a rough day at work - luckily, you’re there to catch him when he falls 

warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, death & swearing (this is javi, after all) 

also: my spanish is terrible. thanks to the english schooling system, my ability to speak it starts and ends with ‘i played football on the weekend with my brother.’ if there are any mistakes at all here, pls feel free to correct me! enjoy :D

- jazz

p.s this is my first javi fic so hopefully the characterisation is good but ?? who fucking knows honestly 

The heat was almost unbearable.

It clung to the air, hanging in the quiet of the Colombian night with an unwavering enthusiasm that made you regret spending so much on your useless air conditioning. Your sheets had been long thrown to the floor, crumpled at the bottom of your bed in a forgotten pile as you sprawled out on the mattress. Usually, sleeping in close such proximity to another person in this climate would have been hell but you couldn’t help but wish Javier was beside you. 

He had been working late all week - not by choice, but rather by necessity. He was integral part of the DEA but more importantly, he was an integral part of your ability to sleep at night. You hated that your sleep schedule had become so Peña-dependent but dammit, there was no coming back from the way he held you. 

It was quiet outside, which wasn’t unusual given that it was slowly approaching 2AM. Aside from the buzz of the crickets outside and the whirr of the occasional car passing by, there was a silence hanging over your bedroom. You could have recognised the sound of Javi’s Jeep pulling up from miles away; there was the crunch of footsteps up your front path and a moment later, the front door opened. 

Javi had a routine - a few, actually. If he’d had a good day, he usually would have kicked off his shoes and come straight through to your bedroom. You suspected, however, that that was not the case. The clattering of a glass against your kitchen counter, followed by what sounded like a bottle, rung through the air. Peña was a man of many talents and finding an excuse to drink at 2AM was definitely one of them.

‘Javi?’ You called. Slowly rolling out of bed, you pulled a strewn sheet around your torso and wondered out to the kitchen. The bright lights of the room burnt your bleary eyes for a moment, but your focus was on Javier’s tired face. ‘W’happened?’

He was tense - it was obvious in the way that he was stood, one arm pressing against the kitchen counter whilst his free hand clutched onto a drink. You immediately wanted to reach out to him, to wrap your arms around him and hope to whoever was above that he might open up to you. Javi had been better at doing that in recent months - isolating himself got old after a while, especially around you - but there were still times where he holed himself up. 

‘I’m fine.’ He murmured, taking a sip. ‘Go back to bed.’

‘Mierda.’ You muttered. Bullshit. ‘No fine person drinks at 2am.’

‘This one does-’

‘- Javier.’ You cut him off. ‘Don’t do this. Not now.’

‘Do what?’ 

‘Ice me out.’ You replied. ‘`I thought we were past that.’

Dropping his drink back to the counter with a force that almost made you jump, Javier turned to face you. He looked beyond shattered - you’d only heard minute details of what he experienced at work and just listening to his stories was enough to exhaust you. You couldn’t bring yourself to imagine what experiencing that shit firsthand was like.

‘We are.’ He murmured. ‘I’m sorry, cariño.’

‘Hey.’ You took a step closer to him and he naturally reached to take your hands in his. ‘Don’t say sorry. I’m here if you need me but I’d never force you-’

‘- we lost someone.’ Javier cut you off. His voice wobbled slightly when he did, emotional in a way that you’d never heard him before. ‘A kid - I mean, not a kid, but...a younger agent. Much younger than me.’

‘Javi.’ You murmured. ‘I’m sorry.’

Opening up was still new to him - having you was still new to him. He was used to solving his problems by drowning them in alcohol and silence or fucking them out of his system with a hooker. Finding a healthy form of catharsis was something he was still working on.

Javi pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso as though you were the one that needed support. In a way, it did make him feel better - when he was reminded of how terrible the world could be, his immediate instinct was to try and protect you from it. Even if he was the one who was hurting, his instincts made him think of you first. 

‘He was there one minute, making some shit joke with Murphy and then he was gone.’ He dropped his head into your shoulders, hands gently raking up and down your back. ‘He had a wife and a kid and...now he’s gone.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ You said. ‘Your job is difficult - dangerous.’

‘I know.’ He replied. ‘It just made me think about what would happen if that we were me. Or worst, if somebody wanted to hurt me and came for you-’

‘- don’t think like that.’ You cut him off. Gently taking Javier’s face in your hands, you tilted his head down and forced him to look at you, to make eye contact and just listen. ‘You can’t think like that, baby.’

‘It’s just...’ Javi peered down at you, brown eyes unwavering as they held your gaze. ‘Rough night, you know?’

You offered him a small smile. ‘I know - but those are all ifs and buts. The reality is that I’m here, alive and well and a little tired.’  

If there had been one pitfall that Javier had found in your relationship, it was the constant worry. He had a careless demeanour but inside, he was always thinking about you - it was usually in a good way but sometimes, he fell down a slippery slope that caused him to panic. After finally letting himself become attached to you, and after finally giving up his pride to admit that (contrary to popular belief) he was capable of love, he couldn’t lose you. He’d rain hell on anyone that even looked at you wrong. 

Javier glanced down at his drink, and then back to you. He slid the glass away, letting it carelessly collide with the wall. 

‘C’mon.’ He tangled his fingers with yours. ‘I’m fucking exhausted.’

A sentiment you certainly shared.

You were the first to collapse into your bed, tiredly watching as Javier threw his clothes onto the empty chair by your window. That was one thing about Peña that you were willing to complain about: his chairdrobe tendencies. The amount of times that you’d almost broken your neck by tripping over his strewn shoes was comical. 

Javi dropped onto the mattress beside you. You naturally moved closer towards him, letting him taking you in his arms and hold you to his chest. Again, it came more from his protective instincts - the same reason he slept closest to the door - but the feeling of holding you after a long day was the highest form of pain relief. 

‘Te quiero.’ He muttered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘I’ve always got you.’

‘I know.’ You sighed sleepily, voice muffled by his chest. ‘I love you too.’

tags: @highlycommendable​ @wolffescadet​ @catsnkooks​

[arthurjdrake]

For Keeps : Alain & Arthur

Summary: A phoenix and a hunter go into a bar. (aka Amelie and I somehow never posted a doc we wrote like 3 months ago don’t judge us) >_> Parties: Arthur and @carbrakes-and-stakes

Recent events had come to show that sometimes meeting new people (Leah especially) didn’t always go terribly, and the little he’d experienced of Alain so far from their online conversations gave Arthur a strangely positive vibe. He couldn’t say what it was, but shared interests were certainly a scene setter for an interesting afternoon over beer if nothing else. Though it transpired with recent revelations that his interest in Alain was further vested in gauging just what sort of person he was and just what Evelyn saw in him that made her interested in being with him. Call it protective curiosity. The Perfect Pint was a decent enough establishment and one he frequented if only for the full plate of good food and Guinness they had on tap. A sizeable establishment with light filtering through slightly grimy windows, it smelled like an ashtray but was relatively clean by most pubs standards. Not to mention the presence of several dart boards and snooker tables for patrons to use if they so pleased. Wooden stools lined up against the bar resembled careless soldiers. Two were occupied and Arthur was five minutes early. So he leaned on the darkwood bar, occasionally sipping a cool pint of Guinness while watching the highlights scrolling on the screen and wincing at a particularly nasty tackle.

Alain pushed the door to The Perfect Pint expecting to have a peaceful moment for once. No hunting, no arguing, not questioning everything. Just chatting with someone with common interests and seeing where that led. Not going to the Silver Bullet for once would also be a nice change. It must have been months since he last went to a normal bar. Being greeted by the sound of football matches and people playing pool was a nice change, and it reminded Alain of the few weeks he had spent in Europe a couple years ago. Now he did not care much for the smell of cigarettes, but if this was all he could complain about, then he would not complain at all. Recognizing some customers as he made his way to the counter, he nodded politely and took a seat with the man he figured would be Arthur. If not, then things would probably get awkward really quick. “Bonjour,” he greeted him, figuring that would be enough of a tell. The bartender approaching, he ordered himself a pint of Amber Ale and turned his attention back to Arthur. “I hope I’m not late.”

There weren’t too many people in town Arthur felt he could go down to the pub to simply have a drink with, he was woefully short on friends who weren’t so studiously academic that it was kind of funny to imagine them in a setting like this. Plus, it reminded him of home in an inexplicable way. From the smell to the darkwood features of the pub, like his local back in Twickenham. Occasionally he glanced at his wrist-watch checking and rechecking the time, the smooth carved wood of its casing a familiar comfort in its proximity. As a figure approached and sat down beside him he turned, body-language relaxed and comfortable, an amicable smile warming his features upon hearing the French. “Salut,” he greeted with a small dip of his head, taking a moment to just study Alain, taking in the years around his eyes and features, the stubborn lingering grease around his fingernails and a missing finger as well. Interesting. Arthur vaguely remembered him saying he was a mechanic in a past conversation. A bit rough around the edges but he could see the appeal though it was the personality he was more intrigued to learn more about. “Not at all,” he laughed quietly at the sentiment with a shake of his head “no, I’m just partial to being early.” He let Alain order before he leaned back a little, “so you own the garage in town right? How’s business been going for you lately?”

If Alain could feel like he was being scrutinized, he didn’t mention it to Arthur, and instead, pretended to look just about anywhere else. He had never been here, so this gave him a good enough excuse not to be attentive. “Is it really how pubs look in the UK?” The place looked like a postcard, and a whole lot like pubs that claimed to be authentic, and he couldn’t quite decide if it was really close to the actual thing or a caricature. Clearly, the mime places weren’t as authentic as they claimed to be, so maybe this was the case here as well. He rubbed at the corner of his eye with one finger and thanked the bartender as he came back with his drink. “Do you actually speak French or…” either way, there would be no hard feelings, but once again, he was curious, which was a good indicator : a bored Alain did not ask questions and hardly spoke. Taking a sip from his pint, he leaned back a little in the seat and nodded in reply to Arthur’s question. “Business is doing alright. I’ve had a few good months with the falling fish. Lots of shattered windshields, lots of intensive cleaning too,” scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged. With the big lobsters, a bunch of cars had been roughly damaged, and considering he had to spend some time off work, all those events had helped keeping the cash coming. “What about you. You’re a teacher, right?”

“It’s not a bad imitation of one considering they even have an old geezer eating roasted peanuts” Arthur admitted eyeing another patron at one of the tables in the corner. “Plus this is the only place I can actually catch games when they’re on, even if it is at like one AM… Granted it’s worth staying up if only for the Irish breakfast.” The question was met with a nod, “I speak a little to pass conversation. I’m kinda rusty and the amount of exceptions to all the tenses always catches me in one place or another…” He shrugged a shoulder taking a sip of his beer “personally, I think it’s important especially if you’re going to live somewhere for a while you know? Too many people just expect everyone else to cater to them just because they’re too lazy and entitled to learn another language.” That was a trait that bothered him about most people growing up in an anglophone environment, the lack of desire to even try and relate to people from other walks of life; forcing them to adapt from their culture. It was hardly fair in his mind. “Ha, yeah I can imagine there’s all sorts of interesting things that keep you busy. The newspaper mentioned something about screaming moose you know? I never thought I’d live anywhere that the wildlife would be much of an issue.” Or maybe he should’ve considered that before moving to White Crest. “Yeah! I teach up at the university, history and mythology department. Certainly no lack of folklore around these parts.”

“What?” Alain followed Arthur’s eyes and his shoulders shook with amusement at the sight of the old geezer eating roasted peanuts. “Alright, that is authentic for sure,” he had another sip of beer. Listening to the man talk, his brows furrowed. “You’re kidding? This is like music to my insomniac ears,” of course insomnia was a stretch, but Alain was not about to tell Arthur that he was a vampire hunter, and that as a result, he really didn’t need to sleep that much. Insomniac seemed a lot more simple. “Night entertainment and food, I’m sold,” he scoffed. Now was he surprised to hear that Arthur struggled with the french language? Not really. “Hey, if you ever need practice, you know where to find me,” he offered. It did not cost him much, and he liked chatting in his native language. Really a win win. “I agree. I mean, obviously if you’re only here for a week, there’s only so much you can do, but don’t expect everyone to speak your own language, that’s… logical,” he shrugged, refraining from rolling his eyes. “You just have to be … logical,” he repeated. Clearly things were easier for him when he visited France, but his time in Spain had been quite something, as he could only remember very few things in Spanish. “Screaming moose?” His eyebrows raised and he glanced to the side, clearly concerned. Could it be due to supernatural reasons? Possible. He’d have to ask Kaden about that one. “Clearly not. The area is quite … rich in folklore. I think we’re a good tie with Louisiana and Salem,” he agreed. “What is your favorite folklore story?”

“See?” Arthur chuckled eyes crinkling at the corners in his mirth at the token sight that seemed a staple in most pubs back home, there was always at least one. “No way! I kid about a lot of things but not that. Definitely not when it comes to a full Irish and watching rugby or football. For sure, next time there’s something on I’ll let you know, even if it does mean I have to sit and watch France play--” he lamented with a put-upon look though it was all in jest. Insomnia was interesting but hardly surprising in a town such as this; there could be any host of reasons behind it. “I might take you up on that, I find it hard not to be so formal in structuring the sentences...” Arthur tilted his glass a little “well, yeah sure but I still think if you’re going to visit another country it’s at least polite to try. It’s just always been a pet peeve, just people being so self-involved they don’t think about trying to make an effort for anyone else.” Alain seemed surprised and Arthur’s brows furrowed, “didn’t you see the newspaper? It was a while back but something about Sunday at sundown being when moose would scream? Seemed a bit weird… I didn’t know moose could scream… Just thought they trampled things.” But hey, wild life could surprise you especially in a town like this.

“Rich is an understatement,” he said with a shake of his head. “Issue is most of the stories around these parts were passed down by word of mouth… Not many actual documents to look at.” There was a spark that always seemed to light up his features whenever he got into a discussion about folklore, “oh, would totally have to be the Huldufólk - the hidden folk - Icelanders believe they’re hidden elves that live in the shadows between rocks, it’s said they love to dance and invade farms at Christmas to hold wild parties. That their origins come from the Garden of Eden, when God visited Adam and Eve, Eve was washing their children and hadn’t finished… Embarrassed, she hid the unwashed children and lied about their existence. To punish her God declared that the children she hid would be hidden from all of mankind and so the first Huldufólk came to be.” It was an interesting and unique narrative and one that had always intrigued him. “How about you? Do you take any interest in folklore?”

Pursing his lips, Alain remained silent as he turned to look at the other man, looking as offended as he looked amused by his comment on French teams. “Let’s not mention that England has not won a world cup in football since the 60s, despite being such a great nation of football, then, shall we?” clearing his throat, he took a sip of beer to hide his smile. Such an argument could go on for days, for sure, but it seemed like Arthur was not the kind to start pointless arguments. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I will admit to being less formal than I used to be,” it had been a while since he left the Babineaux household, and his speech level had grown simpler with time. “Of course. Portugal was awkward, I didn’t speak a damn word of portuguese and had to rely on one of those tiny vocabulary books,” he mimed the rough size of said book with his hands and raised his eyebrows in despair as he remembered how thankful he was that most people knew more English than he knew Portugese. “Yeah, some people do have a hard time not focusing on themselves,” scratching at the back of his neck, Alain looked thoughtful for a moment, staring into the gap. “They kind of sound like nazguls when they scream,” he finally commented, but it usually happened a bit later in the year. Alain had not exactly planned to discuss rut season, but if this was where the conversation was heading, why not?

“Like most stories. And it’s not like books or history is any better. It’s always written by those who survive, or those who won,” biased, but at least the version couldn’t change once printed on paper. You could tell how enthusiastic Arthur was about the subject, and it was refreshing. Leaning against his elbow, the hunter listened to the scholar talk about some ancient legend. The story sounded a bit too polished to be the truth, but he did not doubt that Iceland had a bunch of little folks living in the shadow. “It’s hard not to when you spend your whole life in this town. I’m afraid I don’t have stories to tell however,” clearly this was a lie, but Alain knew better than to start telling people he barely knew about his night time activities.

“True,” though Arthur raised a brow in mild challenge, “but what we do have are three six nations titles to the name in the last ten years. So I think that counts for something. You can take football, I’ll take rugby. Issue settled.” It was banterous and Arthur’s grin was cheeky in spite of himself. “You tend to get that way with time, formalities are nice but they can be so constricting to adhere to all the time.” He snorted a little at the comparison, “oh Gods don’t ruin Nazguls for me like that. No no that’s not allowed.” Lord of the Rings was sacred in this sphere and nothing, especially no moose screaming was allowed to ruin it.

“I mean that’s true of almost anything in life. It’s just nice to actually have some hard evidence to work from rather than just the word of mouth. At least that way you can start to deduce what influences there might’ve been on a source.” Perhaps the story was too polished, too easily wrapped up but it was a nice tale nonetheless. Not everything in the world had to be all doom and gloom. So what if there were elves that liked to play games and pull tricks. “Huh, really? Did you grow up here?”

“Heh, fine,” then coughing to jokingly hide what he was about to say, he added in a hurry, “Football’s better anyway.” Obviously coughing was not meant to really hide anything, and he found himself laughing. Shaking his head, he ran a hand in his hair and sighed heavily. “Formalities are fine by me, although I wouldn’t hope to see me ‘formal’,” he scratched at the corner of his mouth, shook his head and took a sip of beer again. Once again he found himself laughing at the man’s reaction. Alain really would have to stop insulting everything Arthur liked. “Nazguls ruined themselves on their own. Moose have the right to ruin them more,” it appeared they had yet another thing in common. Although he was never an hardcore fan, he still remembered the first time he read the Hobbit very fondly.

“Fair enough. I just feel like history is really biased and often misinterpreted too,” you just had to look at what people were taught at school. Maps placing their country in the middle of the world, wars lost barely mentioned… “I did grow up here. But no, no stories,” not any he wanted to tell. “I can however bore you to death about astronomy. Or myths related to constellations, although you probably already know them all.”

It wasn’t the worst, Arthur rather enjoyed a challenge and the fact Alain seemed willing to challenge ideas in a joking fashion was a good sign for the man’s own personality. “Noo!” he protested with a laugh waving his hand as if to try and stop the insults light-hearted as they were “that’s not allowed, only the waters of Bruinen are allowed to completely wreck the Nazguls or a hobbit with a frying pan. Sheesh these are the sorts of debates I used to get into with Evelyn. The real issues of life.” It wasn’t entirely true, this was one facet of many that he and Evelyn had discussed but Arthur was curious to see how Alain would react to hearing her name.

“It often is, but I think that’s part of the challenge of studying it. Knowing you have to work to try and uncover the obfuscated truth behind the fogs of what people want you to believe.” It was countless, the amount of times he’d tried to submit revisions based on contrary evidence, some had gone through while others… It was a tiring endeavor but one he’d continue to pursue regardless. “That would hardly bore me. I’ve been fascinated with astronomy since I was a child. There’s actually very little I find more interesting.”

“I don’t know,” Alain’s brows furrowed at the mention of hobbit held frying pans, and they furrowed some more at the mention of Evelyn. You could see the cogs turning and trying to figure out what this was about. Biting his lip, he shook his head. “You wouldn’t happen to be…” he tried to remember the words she used. “I think she might have mentioned that she had a favorite professor in town,” he scoffed, shaking his head. He supposed that it made sense that she would mention him to her mentor, as secretive as she could be, it was hard not to share some things.

If Alain had often had to do research, it was far from the academic kind, but that did not mean that he couldn’t dedicate entire days to gathering information on certain kinds of undead species. The hardest part was not knowing the species name and hoping to recognize characteristics in his readings. “That’s what I like with cars, they don’t usually tell lies, which makes my job a lot easier,” he doubted that cars would be something Arthur could be interested in, but he was not too surprised to hear that he liked astronomy too, but that did not mean he wouldn’t be excited about it. “Really?!” His tone of voice was unusually cheerful. “Then you have to join me for stargazing sometimes.”

It would be interesting to see what Alain came up with, and while he clearly processed the passing mention Arthur took a sip of his Guinness giving him time to think but out of the corner of his eye watching curiously. “Oh did she?” it was easy enough to feign mild surprise with just a dash of curiosity thrown in for good measure. He made a quietly amused sound, “yes, she does like to remind me of that as often as she can - along with the fact she was one of my brightest students… She’s hardly a forgettable person but if you know her I’m sure you’re aware of that fact.”

“Well, no lies if they’re built well. I once had a guy try to sell me a knockoff Bentley - full look of the thing but the insides were scavenged from hell. Luckily I didn’t agree to that deal.” While Arthur didn’t know much about cars, he knew which ones he liked and back in the day he’d raced the odd car here and there. So it was more a casual interest than a passionate hobby. The enlightened state that seemed to come over Alain’s features on the topic of Astrology - much in the same way his own lit up at the mention of mythology was interesting and Arthur could tell that whatever else, Alain was certainly someone he liked. “Stargazing? Sure, I’ve actually got a great telescope back at mine. Always try to do some Astrophotography when I’ve been out on fieldtrips… Nothing better than a long hike and taking some good photos. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Alright, so maybe it was not completely a coincidence that he and Arthur had ended up talking to each other, although Alain hoped that they really shared the same interests. “She does leave a strong impression, a good impression,” he clarified. Even knowing that she was not really human, he couldn’t seem to be able to change the way he felt about her, and he was terrified by it, even though he liked to tell himself that if she had fed on him this whole time, he would change his mind about the woman he had feelings for. “I’m grateful we met.”

“The lies here come from that guy, people lie, not cars. If you ever want to acquire one of these, please do tell. I like restoring properly older cars. “The Continental Bentley from the 1950s is a real beauty, but hard to find in good shape these days,” the man’s enthusiasm didn’t waver as the subject changed to astronomy. Quite the contrary. “See, that’s something I struggle with. I never seem to be able to take a proper picture. I tried, but I think I’m just really not good with that kind of technology,” he liked taking pictures, and Evelyn liked having her picture taken which was a great combination, but when it came to space, it was almost disastrous. “You really need to show me. I could use that.”

“That’s true,” Arthur agreed, seeming to take measure of the answer and find it satisfactory “she’s quite a remarkable young woman.” Evelyn had been right, and from what Arthur could tell, Alain was being genuine. “How did you meet? If you don’t mind me asking?” Evelyn had been rather cryptic of late regarding Alain and Arthur was rather curious to learn the story there. “She’s a good friend of mine so I find myself interested in the people she surrounds herself with.”

While Arthur was still taking note of Alain’s general disposition, he seemed to relax into the new conversation put at ease by what he could read from the other man’s reaction regarding Evelyn. “It’s funny you mention that, I’ve got the Bentley Continental V8 here at the minute but back home I have a 1949 Bentley VI Saloon and a 1962 Chevrolet Corvette. They’re some of the best drives I think I’ve ever had on the road.” An understanding nod was given, “ah yeah, often you just have to spend a while playing around with the exposure on the camera and make sure you use a tripod to keep it stable. It’s a bugger but once you get the hang of it it’s not too bad.” He grinned clearly excited by the proposed idea “but sure, next time there’s something astrological going on, send me a message and I’ll give you a crash course. Maybe you can give me a crash course in cars.”

Young woman. He had to wonder if this was meant to be an attack or not. As far as he was concerned, yes, she was young, and yes, he was older, and it was uncommon, but it was something he and Evelyn had discussed. In the end, it was Alain who felt the least comfortable about the difference, not her. “Oh, ahem,” he mused. “Well, I was trespassing on her property, which is a great first impression apparently. I wanted to find a good spot to stargaze, but didn't know it was a private beach,” he trailed off. Yeah, that had been embarrassing, and he had considered fleeing the place the moment Evelyn disappeared to get a cardigan.

Now he was glad he did not.

“Oh.” Well he really was not a fan of the newer ones, as he found them a bit too soft looking, but he kept that to himself. And so it surprised him that Arthur seemed to like some very different cars, but he would not question the man’s taste. To each their own. “See Evelyn, she owns too many cars,” he scoffed. An understatement, although it was not really a surprise. She liked owning things, especially pretty things, and Alain wondered sometimes if there was a reason for that need. “Sure, that sounds lovely. Let’s just hope that my crash course involves no crashing cars,” shaking his head, he took another sip of beer. “I just think that people, just, everyone should know more about what’s under the hood.”

It was less an attack, more a statement of fact and Arthur’s view of evelyn. She was an incredible young woman. There was no further intention to the words than that and if he did notice any discomfort it wasn’t remarked on. He’d learned one lesson lately and that was to let some things lie. So instead, he listened to Alain’s story, leaning a little more on the bar with his interest fixed because he was genuinely curious to learn the tale and get a better understanding of his friend’s mind in this. “And did she stay out?” Arthur assumed so but better to get clarification just to be on the safe side.

“But I do have the other two older ones, I might get them shipped over at some point… I just didn’t know how permanent my residence here was going to be and I didn’t want to ship them and find myself heading back overseas you know? Too much hassle.” Though he had to laugh at the statement of Evelyn and cars, “she has too much stuff period. Always has, but I can hardly blame her for that.” Arthur had his own reasonings about why that might be the case but it wasn’t something to discuss right now. Alain was nice enough but not someone he’d chat in depth to about his long-time friends. Not yet at least. “Yeah, I’d rather not go out in a ball of flames.” The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him. “You’re probably right, I guess it seems so foreign and alien to most people that even approaching the topic seems like a challenge. It’s kind of the same with history… or language. Some people nowadays are afraid of not being able to overcome the challenge I think.”

“She did,” he wrinkled his nose, “considering the reputation of Harris Island folks, I did consider for a moment that she was staying with me until the police arrived,” which was something that made him feel terrible, but could you really blame him. “I think she had nothing better to do,” Alain might have never been the luckiest person there was, but he always wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve her.

“I mean, that’s fair.” Alain rarely had to get cars imported, but he remembered having to import his own car from France, and how much of a hassle this had been. “I’d love to have a look at those, if you ever do get them shipped here,” he added, finishing his pint and searching for his wallet to pay the bartender. “Glad to know that she always has been this way,” he had a light laugh. Alain had given up on thinking of things he could offer her, hoping that memories could be things she would cherish more. “Let’s avoid that, yeah,” he shook his head. “People probably think it’s too complicated, too hard, too … I don’t know… That only some people are allowed to have this kind of knowledge,” the man had always been curious, and it was no surprise to learn that Arthur, an academic, felt the same way about learning new things.

“Understandable,” Arthur had met a few people that lived out that way and hadn’t been too impressed with them “Harris island folks can be pretty funny about strangers wandering onto their properties. Luckily she’s one of the better few out that way.”

“Sure, I’ll let you know if I ever make the decision to do that… Though considering how much glass damage it seems people complain about online I’m not sure if it’s something I’d really want to expose myself to… But I guess knowing a mechanic doesn’t hurt with that issue.” Setting his glass on the counter he pushed back a little. “Maybe, I guess some people just feel its unreachable for them in particular or they have no effort in pursuing the avenue to acquiring it.” Arthur waved his hand as he saw Alain reach for his wallet, fishing his card out the back of his phone case before good-naturedly adding “don’t worry about it, I’ll get them.”

“I suppose that’s what happens when you get a bit too out of touch with reality,” Alain was certain that his sister, or his parents, were the kind to react poorly to trespassers, and the reason he knew that was because he was himself not really fond of trespassers, and this, despite having spent the last two decades in the middle class.

“I don’t think soundproofing your garage is the answer to big noises, but hey, you now know a mechanic. I’m sure you’ll be alright,” the corners of his mouth tugged up, as he stood up from the stool. “Let me know if you ever feel like learning a thing or two, alright?” He frowned slightly at Arthur’s offer, but didn’t question it for too long and instead nodding, thankful. “Alright, thanks.”

With a huff of amusement Arthur grinned, “good thing people who are rational like us exist then.” With the delivery of a few notes across the bar and a tip for the waiter Arthur pushed to his feet and tucked his wallet away. “Well, nice to meet you Alain. And if you ever fancy watching ridiculously late night rugby matches just let me know.” With a wave of his hand he made his way towards the door and the walk back home in the early afternoon light.

[mysweetestcreature]

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 2: After You

(Banner by the wonderful @ noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Thursday, September 18, 2008

        “Wait, so you’re actually on the team?” Y/n gasps as they navigate through hallway traffic to their lockers. (They ended up being only a few down from one another, something that came as a relief to both since they’ll be the first to admit that they enjoy each other’s company.) “But you’re a freshman! The last time a freshman made the team was in like...like...1987!” She marches straight up to him and swats his arm without a second thought. “Harry! That was seven years before we were born! How are you so calm about this!”

       Harry’s lips form in a smirk as he works his combination into the lock. “So, I take it you’re impressed?”

       “Was it not obvious?” 

       She returns to her own locker, exchanging books between it and her bag while she continues to go on and on about her amazement in short mumbled breaths. When Coach Davis had posted this year’s team roster on the official bulletin board just by the main entrance, everyone had been shocked to see that a freshman had made the lineup. It’s not like she didn’t believe that Harry could do it, but she knows plenty of boys in their grade who had failed to make the high school team, and they were considered the best of the best in middle school! A boy named Jimmy who she’s known since the second grade hadn’t made the team, so he ended up transferring to Ashwood’s number one sports competitor, Pleasant Valley Academy out of spite. “And you’re starting? As quarterback?” 

       “Mhmm,” his response is short and sweet and irksomely chirp, even for her. He shuts his locker and leans against it on his side, one foot tucked under the other, both hands in his pockets as he watches her amusedly. He thinks it’s cute how her nose scrunches up the way it is now. “I mean, it’s a big part of why I’m going here.” Who would give up such an amazing opportunity to attend one of the best schools on the East coast, and for only a fraction of the cost? As it turns out, he’s liking it here a whole lot more than he’d ever imagine. 

       “I’m just amazed, is all. I’m really proud of you though,” her words decrease in volume at the end of her confession. She quickly looks up and shoots him a grin before reapplying some lip gloss in the magnetic mirror. 

       He hates that he can’t look away as the wand strokes over the suppleness of her bottom lip, leaving behind a subtle shine. From where he is, the scent of sweet candied strawberries reaches his nose and causes him to rub his own pair of lips together on impulse. A whole lot of ‘what ifs’ form at the forefront of his mind that would surely leave him embarrassed if he were to ever allow them to spill from his mouth. Although, he soon realizes how creepy it is that he’s still staring at her so intrusively, and so he shakes his head of any further thought. “Um...” he clears his throat. “So, you’ll be watching me from the bleachers then?” 

       “Or who knows, maybe from the sidelines.”

       This has his left brow cocking up in question. “Are you in marching band or something?” 

       “Oh yeah, I play a real mean recorder,” she snorts before closing her locker shut with a push of her hip, then twisting to face him. There’s something in the way her eyes glint as they bore into his, it’s almost unnerving. She takes a few steps forward, and now only a few scanty inches lie between the two. He swears his heart stops beating when she rises on the tips of her toes and leans in even closer. “You’re not the only one full of surprises.” 

       “What’s that supposed to mean?” Now it’s his turn to be left stunned.

       She backs away and starts in the direction of the library with a content smile on her face. “See you in Algebra, Harry.” 

***

       This morning she’d woken up from a reoccurring dream she’d been having over the last couple of weeks, and in it she was on this hilltop that was decorated with most beautiful array of flowers of endless varieties, and a wooden bench with metal railings that sat underneath the shade of a luscious cherry blossom. When she sat up in bed, the image was still so fresh in her mind. It’s like she’s been there before, as every detail had seemed so authentic, tangible even. It’s familiar in a way that no words would be able to describe. 

       “Are you okay?”

       “What?” She nearly jumps out of her skin. Looking up, she sees Maxxie’s worried appearance staring at her straight on. “Oh yeah, I’m just... Here, look at this. I’ve been dreaming about it like every night.” She slides her sketchbook across the table. 

       Maxxie examines it carefully, the pads of his fingers gently running over the drawn lines as his eyes follow their movements. “Have you ever been?”

       She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t think so.” She runs a hand through her hair a few times before letting out a defeated sigh. “I probably just saw it on TV or something.” 

       “If you say so,” Maxxie hums, surely unconvinced. He slides back the book and continues on his own sketch. They relax into a steady rhythm of work, and for so long the calming sounds of pencil against paper soothes the ears as they let their creative vision take control of the actions of their hands.  

       However, it’s only a matter of time before Maxxie speaks up once again. “Can I ask you something?” 

       “Of course,” she chirps, although she keeps her attention on shading in the top side of the tree where she imagines the sun would hit it. “What’s up?”

       The blonde boy’s tongue runs over the surface of his teeth as his eyes narrow in on her. “Well,” he starts, letting his pencil see-saw between his fingers. “I was just wondering...” 

       “Yeah?”

       “What do you think of Harry?”

       This successfully steals her attention away, and she slowly slides back to sit properly in her chair. The mention of his name makes her smile in a different way. “Harry? He’s...well he’s funny and sweet, and I think it’s adorable when...” she trails off when she realizes that she’s probably said too much already. “Wait, why do you ask?” 

       A knowing smirk takes over his once curious expression. “Like I said, I was just wondering.”

       “Oh, no. Don’t you do that, there’s definitely something,” Y/n says in protests. Maxxie sighs, pretending to feel aloofly about the conversation as he lazily leans to the side. “People are allowed to wonder things, you know.” 

       “But no one ever just wonders something unless there’s actually something to wonder about which means you’re obviously not just wondering!”

       “I... huh?” Maxxie’s face creases in such confusion, and he mouths the words over as though trying to make sense of it all. Y/n smiles triumphantly, returning all her energy into finishing her scene. 

***

       “¡Hasta mañana, clase!” Señora Gustavo says as she waves off her Spanish 1 Honors class. 

       Nearly everyone rushes out at once, their hearts set on toughing through their last class before they get to go home for the rest of the evening. Y/n isn’t in much of a rush though, since Dr. Davis has conference about microorganisms in the body somewhere in Denver, and Coach Allen was the only one available to cover her class (and everyone knows that he never takes attendance, instead he opts to playing Tetris on the computer until the dismissal bell rings). 

       “Do you think you’ll be ready for the test next week?” Y/n asks, holding her notebook and Spanish textbook close against her chest. Señora Gustavo scheduled a test on the preterit tense next Tuesday, where they’ll have to write a few paragraphs that show their understanding of how to use it. 

       “I don’t know, the irregular verbs are kind of a pain in the arse,” the dimples in his cheeks caving when he sighs. 

       “Do you maybe want to study together?” 

       “Like after school?” His footsteps cease abruptly in the middle of the hallway, and the person walking behind them grumbles at the unforeseen blockade in his path. “Shit. I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes, but is quick to focus back on her. It’s like his US Politics class doesn’t exist to him at that moment (thank goodness there isn’t any assessment scheduled for the day).

       Y/n suddenly feels hyper aware of where she stands, feeling incredibly small after making the suggestion so capriciously. “...Yeah,” she tries her best to make herself sound nonchalant. But why is this so hard for her? She and Maxxie study together all the time, and she’s never felt intimidated about inviting him over. Ever. With Harry, it’s like she’s always on edge, and it’s becoming more and more exasperating to say the least. She grows even more weary when he takes too long of a pause. “I mean, only if you want to... I just figured we could-”

       “Yes,” he blurts out, his vocal cords stretching greater lengths than would be considered normal, almost like he’d just been hit in the groin with a football. He clears the tickle in his throat and then wets his lips. “That’d be great. Yeah, cool.” A nervous laugh escapes him as his hand moves up and rubs the back of his neck out of sudden discomfort. His mouth opens, and for a second, he hopes something intelligible might come of it. Instead, it hinges closed, and he briskly strides in the direction of his next class, unintentionally leaving her without another word. When he realizes this, the soles of his feet squeak against the well-polished floors as he comes to another hasty stop. Sheepishly, he shuffles back, this time being extra mindful to calculate every next one of his step. “Sorry, that was weird. I don’t know why I... we’re going the same way.” He takes a deep breath to collect himself. “So, uh, tomorrow?” 

       “Tomorrow,” she affirms with a bashful grin. They continue down the hall in a comfortable silence.

*** Friday, September 19, 2008

       When Harry wakes up the next morning, it’s like he’s suddenly some sort of perfectionist, or something pretty damn close. He uses a little more gel in his hair to keep his quiff intact for the rest of the day, he irons his already smoothened polo shirt because he claims he can see some micro wrinkles on its left sleeve. Last night he’d watched over a dozen YouTube videos to see how to tie the perfect knot because sometimes he feels like his tie always looks a bit out of sorts. Finally, he polishes his school shoes over dozen time until he can basically see his reflection staring back at him. 

       “How do I look?” he asks, standing in front of the breakfast table where Anne and Gemma finish up their cups of coffee and scrambled eggs. Both women stare at him blankly, Gemma stopping mid-bite, while Anne keeps her mug suspended below her parted mouth. They look at him and then each other, then back at him as though he were a mad man, and it starts to bug him when minutes go by without a single peep from either. “Well?” 

       “I’m a little confused,” his sister is the first to answer. “Is this a trick question?” Harry groans, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands in mild aggravation. Sure, he wears the same thing practically every day (although, he does like to change up his second layer between his usual cardigan and a pull over, sometimes a sweater vest if he’s feeling up to it), but how can they not notice how crisp his shirt looks? 

       “I’m being serious here!”

       Anne,  is tad more thoughtful with her response. “I think you look very cute, love.” 

       “Cute?” He’s absolutely scandalized! “Cute” is not the end product he wants! He runs to the nearest mirror to view his reflection. Maybe it’s the gel, it probably makes him look like some snotty ten-year-old who loves dressing up whenever he leaves the house. 

       “Dashing! What I meant to say is that you look very dashing!” his mother calls to him, trying her best to correct her mistake. “But sweetheart,” she begins, standing up and putting her used dishes in the sink. “What is this for?”

       And then he asks himself the same thing: what was this all for? After all, they were just going to study for a stupid conjugation test. 

***        “What time’s your date?” 

       “It’s not a date. We’re just studying.”

       “My mistake. What time’s your study date?”

       “I literally just said that it’s not a date!”

       “Then why’re you so pressed?”

       “Because,” Y/n sighs, closing her book. She’s obviously not getting any reading done before homeroom with Maxxie bombarding her with all these trivial questions. She knew she should’ve just kept it to herself, especially after yesterday’s conversation. But she couldn’t help it! He had come over unannounced yesterday with milkshakes from Riley’s Fountain, and one sugar high later, she couldn’t stop herself from recounting every detail of her day. “I don’t know, Max.” 

       “Okay,” he concedes.

       She narrows her gaze at him. “That’s it?” He simply nods his head at her. “No follow-up?”

       “Nope,” he makes sure to put an extra pop on the ‘p’. He sits back in his seat, propping his legs up on the table and crossing his arms behind his head. 

***        After Spanish class, they had agreed to meet at their lockers at exactly 5 o’clock since Harry had football practice and Y/n said she had something to take care of as well. The day had gone just like any other, classes after classes with a few breaks in between and those valuable minutes where they’d talk about silly things on their way to shared subjects and when they’d stand in front of their lockers as they quickly traded books in place of others.

       As he walks out of the locker room, freshly showered –– and in his own clothes, thank god he’d decided to bring a more comfortable pair before leaving home –– and exchanging the ghastly mixture of sweat and sun for a more aromatic vanilla mango cocktail, he notices a vibration coming from underneath his feet. He follows the sound music as it increases in volume to the entrance of the gymnasium, where he then looks through the slim windows before opening the door just a wee bit. 

       He realizes that it’s a cheer practice that’s being held, and it’s also then that he can make sense of the words to the song, and a smile sneaks up to on him when an infamous pop track from the 90s plays over the speakers in the room as they run through their routine. 

       “Okay.” He hears someone shout over the fading outro. It’s the coach, he’ll assume, and she tucks a clipboard under her arm and claps her hands together. “That was good, that was good,” she says in a cheery tone that still manages to sound firm. “So, on that note, let’s call it a day.”

       The group disperses to different areas of the bleachers. He sees Zoey from homeroom, who struts to her bag with such purpose, her hands perched on her swaying hips. She’s followed by two of her friends, Amber and Bree, that always seem to follow her like lost puppies. Matt Riley from his Biology class is also on the team, he’d seen him, and another boy lift one of the girls on top of their shoulders. Harry resumes to scan the gym for anyone else he might know. What he doesn’t expect is to see her scrunchie. His lips pull apart. “Y/n?” he says her name under his breath, his eyes growing wide as she walks towards him (luckily, she hasn’t noticed him) to rummage through her bag. She pulls out a pink water bottle, giggling into the nozzle as one of her friends talks animatedly at her. 

       He backs away from the door, letting it click before he begins pacing on the spot. So, this is what she’d been hinting at yesterday when she said she would be closer than he thought. “A bloody cheerleader.” He runs both hands through his hair, his eyelids tightly pushed together as he lets his system absorb this new –– and vital –– information. “You’re fucked,” he tells himself, even laughing at his own self-pity. “You are so fucking fucked.” 

       “Text me how things go with Jared!” His ears perk up at her honey-like tonation that he’s surely grown to appreciate these last couple of weeks. Y/n has this tendency to go on and on about anything and everything (especially whenever he brings up her baking, she’ll go one for hours) but it’s oddly satisfying just to listen to her talk so vibrantly about life. HE starts to panic when her voice gets closer. “Oh, stop it! I’m sure it’ll go fine!” 

***

       “I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere,” Cici says jadedly as they push through the doors in to the deserted corridor. “He’s cute, and he thinks I’m cute, but that’s about it.” She reaches back and begins to fuss with her raven-black hair, running her fingers through each of stubborn knots. 

       Y/n bumps her hip with hers before linking their arms together and skipping down the rest of the way. “You’ve been talking nonstop for the last six weeks! That’s like a record for you! Just see how it goes, and if it’s really that bad, you can always do that thing in the movies where she sneaks out the bathroom window.” Cici rolls her eyes at the suggestion. “Oh, come on! You can’t say the idea doesn’t sound exciting,” Y/n giggles as she pokes her side. 

       “You and Maxxie watch way too many romcoms, seriously. It’s like I’m friends with freaking Julia Roberts.” She’s known Cici since they were in diapers as their parents had been friends in their youth. It was only right that their girls become best friends. In many ways, they’re opposites of each other, Cici being the rougher and tougher of the two, especially when it comes to people she doesn’t trust a hundred percent (many people in their grade are a tad bit afraid of her, but she prefers it that way), while Y/n tends to be more empathetic and softer around the edges (for the most part, that is) that makes her more approachable.

       “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/n sticks her tongue out. 

       “Speaking of Maxwell,” Cici begins, and her lips quick to the side suggestively, “he tells me you have a date with the new boy.” 

       Y/n scoffs, shaking her head. “And I told him repeatedly that it’s not a date.”

       “Do you want it to be?” 

       “To be what?”

       “A date, duh!” Cici all but screams. 

       “I’ve only known him for two weeks!” How many times does she have to explain that what her and Harry and going to do is strictly educational and as friends/classmates? Sure, he’s good looking and has eyes so mesmerizing that she finds herself getting lost in them and... oh shoot. And she’s sure by the way Cici gives her the same shrewd look that Maxxie had given her earlier, that she knows exactly what’s running through her head. “Shut up.” No one better tell Maxxie, or else he’ll never let her live it down!

       “Listen, all I’m saying is that if you like him, you better make a move before someone beats you to it,” Cici warns. “I heard that Zoey has a major thing for him.” 

       Y/n tries her best to hide a pout. She and Zoey used to be friends once upon a time, but as they excelled through school and life, Zoey started to get overly competitive with her. If Y/n showed up to school with new school shoes, Zoey would have a pair twice as expensive the next day. If Y/n got the highest test score in math, Zoey would try to beat her on the next two. It’s petty, Y/n will be the first to admit it, which is why she usually tries to ignore things like that now.  

       “I mean, she is really pretty.” 

       “Too bad she’s a total bitch. Besides, you’re way prettier, babe,” Cici winks. “Anyway, I have to go get ready for later.” And she starts towards the exit, walking backwards. “If I call you in the middle of dinner, it means I’ve just climbed out the bathroom window and you need to pick me up immediately.” 

       Y/n sniggers at her words. “I look forward to it.” 

       They officially part ways, and soon enough Y/n turns the corner and arrives at her locker to find Harry standing against it. The bottom of his shoe is flat up against the metal, and his hands are shoved in the pockets of his jeans. She cocks her head to the side when she takes note of his heaving chest. “Why are you so out of breath?”

***

       When Y/n and Harry arrive at her house, she leads him into the kitchen to offer him a snack. “I woke up really early this morning, so I made a bunch of treats!” she exclaims. Harry watches as she prepares everything on the table. Her house is just as he had expected, it’s ambiance warm and welcoming, the same vibe he always gets when he’s near her. It smells distinctly of warm sugar, and he guesses it’s because she’s constantly whipping up sweets and other goodies. 

       As she gets things ready, he wanders into the connecting living room. The first thing that catches his eye is the 1963 Hofner 500/1 “Violin” bass in the corner of the room. He’s more of a guitar kind of guy, but he’s always appreciated a catchy bass line. “Do you play?” he asks, looking back into the kitchen.

       “It’s my grandpa’s, actually. He was a huge McCartney fan, and so this was his little homage to him.” She walks over and slowing extends her hand and grazes her fingers along the neck. It’s then he sees the falter in her expression. “We had to put him in a home since he’s having some trouble remembering things now,” she confesses. “But when we bring this old guy along, it’s like he never left. It’s like he’s the same guy that used to hum Yesterday to put me to sleep.” 

       Harry is quiet as he absorbs it all in. He can’t imagine what it must be like, especially since he also has a close bond with his grandfather.  

       He frowns when he catches her wiping beneath her eye. “Hey,” he says softly, and he gently wraps his fingers around her wrist to bring her hand away from her face. 

       “I’m sorry,” she shakes her head and tries her best to laugh it off. “I always get a little weird when I talk about Pop-pop.” 

       “’s fine,” he assures her. “You’re allowed to feel.” About a year ago, his granddad had suffered a stroke. He’d been alone since his grandma had been out at the grocer’s. It was a good thing a neighbor had heard the ruckus of his fall and immediately brought him to the hospital. So, he knows what it’s like to worry oneself constantly. 

       The next thing he does shocks them both. He breathes in deeply before he lifts his hand close to her cheek, moving a loose piece of hair behind her ear. When she peers up, she’s nearly paralyzed as his beautiful green eyes stare deeply into hers. She bites hard on her bottom lip, her heart hammering beneath her chest. 

       “I-” but words are a loss to her in that moment. He searches her, looking for any sign to tell him to stop. There’s nothing. And for once, the quietness relieves him. Feeling a rush of confidence flow through his veins, he slowly lowers himself. The closer he gets, the more he can feel each puff of her breath tickle the small hairs on chin. 

       Her eyes flutter closed as she anticipates his lips. 

       “Y/n!” a little voice squeals, and it’s followed by a tiny pitter patter of feet. Both Harry and Y/n snap their heads at the sound, and she’s quick to push him away. A space to accommodate at least four people now falls between them.  

       “Hey, buddy!” She picks up Mason and spins him around in her arms. “How was school? Did you share those cookies with Madison?”

       “Yeah!” he says proudly, wrapping his arms around her neck. “I’m a good sharer!” Mason wriggles his legs, begging to be put down. When he notices Harry –– who is still quite flustered –– he cautiously backs into Y/n’s legs until he’s hidden behind her left one. “Who’re you?” the little boy challenges, lip protruding into a small pout as he clings to his sister’s leg tightly. (He usually doesn’t do well with strangers. Heck, last Christmas he cried when he saw Santa at the mall.)

       Harry bites his tongue, glancing at Y/n. She nods down at the little boy with an encouraging smile. If someone would’ve told him even an hour ago that he’d be –– somewhat –– terrified of such a tiny human, he would’ve sniggered and walked away. Yet here is, about to get on his knees for a six-year-old. And he ends up doing just that. He bends down to Mason’s height. “Hey there, little dude. I’m Harry.” 

       Mason eyes him skeptically,  slightly treading away from his sister’s protection. “Do you like cupcakes?” 

       “Cupcakes?” Harry playfully repeats, he pretends to be surprised by such a question. “I love cupcakes!”

       Mason giggles loudly and tackles Harry in a big hug. “I like you, Harry!” Mason tells him. He grabs his hand and leads him back into the kitchen. “Come on, Harry! Y/n made Neapolitan cupcakes! They’re my favoritest ever!” Her little brother sits Harry down in one of the chairs and grabs a cupcake from the dish. “We can go halfsies if you want!” he offers. 

       That leaves Y/n alone in front of the bass guitar. She glances out into the kitchen, where her little brother has managed to say everything what she could never muster up. What had happened, or almost happened –– that had been enough to send tingles to cover every inch of her frazzled skin still lingers on her, and she touches her cheek where his hand had once been. 

***

[kovacissues]

There’s No Way I’m Falling (Dejan fic) Chapter 5

A/N: From now on I will update much less frequent, but I hope you’ll still read.

My writing can be found HERE!

Warning: Alcohol and puking

Chapter 5: At least your hair grows fast.

When Dejan arrived at Salah’s house, his friend was already waiting for him out on the street. Getting out of the car, he sent the kids inside to play with Salah’s daughter before he sat down on a bench. “Stephen, dude… fucking Stephen” Dejan said, making a fist with his hand.

“I guess we have one friend less then, Dejo” replied his friend, trying to make him feel better. “But uhm, I came out to warn you that… I… uhm, I’m doing an interview with López…” he said, unsure on how to expect Dejan to respond. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw him just smile like a child in love.

Dejan suddenly looked amused “what did you tell her was the reason you had to go out?” he asked with a little laugh.

“I… and don’t hate me now, said that my best friend had personal issues but that she could just wait there” Mo admitted, taking a few steps back incase his best friend snapped at him.

“Fuck! She’s gonna think my ‘personal issue’ is her! I kinda slept with her last night and had breakfast with her today” Mo looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost. “Let’s just get this awkwardness over with” Dejan then said and walked in, Mo following right after.

When they got inside he looked at Mimi interviewing Magi, Salah’s wife. He couldn’t help but smile, but that smile was quickly washed away when his son decided to play football and shot the ball straight into Mimi’s face “Ow..” she said adding something under her breath

“Yeah… that child is the definition of hijo de puta” Magi said with a nervous laugh as she noticed Dejan watching. “I mean… his mom is basically a whore… I mean… I’m gonna shut up now” by now he was incredibly mad.

“well the kid should learn to behave… tell your husband I will continue this interview tomorrow at the training grounds” Mimi stated and he couldn’t believe how rude she was, the poor boy just kicked a ball in her face, like calm down. “You have a beautiful home, and your daughter is an absolute love” she added and Dejan didn’t much appreciate the emphasis on ‘your daughter’.

Magi moved her eyes from Dejan to Mimi “You do realize who’s kid that is right?”, well it helped a little bit on his mood when he saw Mimi shake her head a little. “turn around and greet the dad” Magi then replied to the nod and Mimi obliged, making her mouth drop.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know.. I was just… He kicked a ball in my face and ran off laughing” by now the poor girl looked so scared that he couldn’t do anything but shrug his shoulders. She had a point when it came to his son being a brat. After all he had learnt from the best, his dad.

“don’t worry beautiful, but seriously he’s three years old. That ball couldn’t have hit you that hard” He had never actually seen someone become as red as a tomato from blushing, before now. Calling her beautiful around people apparently did the trick and he was gonna remember that the rest of his life. “Don’t worry… they know everything about my crush already… well the kids don’t but yknow” he tried to reassure her but she didn’t seem any calmer.

“Mohamed, we will meet at the training grounds tomorrow and finish this… Lovren, you know downlow was to protect your kids so I’m not gonna stay here” After she said that she walked out and drove away from the house.

“Ouch… ‘Lovren’…” Mo teased, right after she had left the house. Dejan forced a laughter, mostly to hide that that exact moment had killed him on the inside. Mo must have realized that as he tried to comfort him “I’m not Sime so I can’t cheer you up with that Croatian song from the world cup. But I can cheer you up with the fact that when you sent her the message “we need to talk about Stephen” your name popped up as Dejo with like five hearteye emojis” why on earth did that make him feel better. “also, no I didn’t check her phone it was just laying right next to me and I peeked”

“I should take her out on a date” he said, and his friend nodded. Before he could start planning anything his son came over and looked down. “what’s wrong son?” he asked and got down on his level so he could get eye contact with him.

“The woman was beautiful… I just want attention… I no mean it” Josip explained and made his father smile a little.

“Well, next time you find a beautiful woman, what about you just tell her?” Dejan suggested and his son nodded carefully. “You know what? She is a journalist, so I have her number, should we send her a video of you apologizing?” he then asked to which his son looked very excited.

Dejan handed his phone to Mo and told him to film them. “Hola Noémie, my son has something he wants to tell you” he started before nodding towards Josip. “I sorry for kicking ball… in your face… it just. You beautiful and I want attention” Dejan laughed a little before looking into the camera “You got a spell on Croatian guys” he added before winking and nodding for Mo to stop filming.

When he got his phone back he sent the video to Mimi and wrote “No, he does not know anything about us… yes, my son has impeccable taste in women”.

He spent the rest of the day hanging out with Salah and his family, having to endure hundreds of jokes about himself and Sime and how Sime wouldn’t like Mimi. When he had asked why, Mo had just shrugged and said “competition” and broke out in a fit of laughter.

---

The next couple of weeks went well for Dejan and Mimi, they had taught each other the most important phrases in their native languages. For instance Dejan had learned words like “mi amada” and “mi todo”, along with a couple of words in Catalan, While Mimi had learnt “Budalo Jedna” and “jebi se”. They had even gone on dates, obviously far away from people, and Dejan was falling so hard in love with her.

The only problem he had was that his wife refused to sign the divorce papers, which meant no sex for Dejan. This meant that he was constantly in a bad mood and whenever he heard Spanish he got inexplicably horny. It was horrible for him knowing that she probably felt the same way and he was the reason she couldn’t feel better about it.

Since it was a Friday he looked very much forward to going to training as he knew Fridays were ‘Mimi interviewing Jürgen Klopp before making out with Dejan in the wardrobe day’. Well, at least that was what Dejan called them. He couldn’t wait to see his Spanish lover again, it was almost as if they didn’t spend all their time off messaging and facetiming.

When he got to the training grounds he noticed Stephen interviewing Kloppo and he got confused. “where are you?” he messaged Mimi and less than a minute later he got a picture as answer. She was on a plane. “Sorry I forgot to tell you, my bisa died so I am on my way to Barcelona to attend her funeral” how could she forget to tell him that her… bisa??... died? He felt so horrible but shook it off as to not show his buddies how he felt.

---

That night he couldn’t sleep, he hadn’t heard from Mimi at all since before training and he was so worried his stomach hurt. He decided that if he couldn’t sleep, he might as well check Instagram. That was all fun and games until he saw a picture posted by Ivan Rakitic. A picture of Ivan, some other guys he remembered as Barcelona players, and Mimi… dancing on a table, clearly drunk. The caption made his entire insides burn with jealousy “Had an amazing day with this crowd! Thank you Noémie for showing us all the best places today!”. He wanted to scream, but he ended up doing something way more stupid, calling Ivan.

“Hej brateeeeeee” Ivan answered his phone clearly drunk out of his mind. “Your girrrrlfffriend is so cool” he said trying to be quiet but ended up screaming.

“Yeah I know, so cool that I don’t even have to be a part of her life” He hated seeming clingy, but he had just had an inhumanly amount of Rakija in a very short time.

“are youuu jealoussssss?” Ivan teased, but he could hear a little worry in his voice.

“No I love the fact that she told me she left to go to a funeral but she ends up sloppy drunk with you” He was about to cry, he realized how fragile his heart was.

“She… she… she… just punched. A. guy. for grabbing her… b b butt. And she needed to get away from her family… I’ll give her the phone” Dejan panicked as Ivan said that, and the best reaction he could think of was hanging up and crying himself to sleep.

*Noémie’s POV*

When she landed in Liverpool after her week in Barcelona she panicked, watching all the messages and missed calls that showed up on her phone. How had she not gotten these before? She had gotten at least two hundred messages, and they were all from Dejan. She had to call him, but she was so scared of how mad he could be at her.

She read through all the messages and felt her heart drop at the last one “tell me when you need me again” she felt like the biggest asshole on earth so she decided to just text him instead “Hey, I’m at the airport, seems like my simcard didn’t work outside England… can you please pick me up?”. It felt like it took forever before he replied but after half an hour she got a message with a picture of where he was “I’m outside, hurry up”.

She got to his car and saw him standing there leaning on the car. “Look who decided to show up” She could hear that his voice was trembling, as if he had just cried. “just get in the car” this time he almost sounded aggressive, so she couldn’t do anything but entering the car.

“I’m sorry okay? I didn’t receive any of your messages… I didn’t notice because I knew you were busy with work and I was so busy with the funeral” She tried to explain herself again. This time he just nodded calmly. “You know… Volim te..?” She was so unsure about the pronunciation, but Ivan had tried his best to teach her at least that phrase.

“Not in the mood” Dejan flatly answered without even looking at her. Well, That hurt like a motherfucker. He was so cold towards her and while it felt horrible, she honestly understood him so very well. Just then she felt something she had gotten used to the last couple of days. She hurried to pick up her purse from the floor and take out one of those flight sickness bags and puked.

“are you okay?” now he looked worried, and put his hand on her thigh.

“Don’t worry… it’s not the first time this week” she had to play it off so he wouldn’t be too worried, but her attempt just made him take every shortcut he knew to get faster to her place. When they eventually got there he made sure she would be able to walk in without help before taking her bag and following her.

As fast as she got into her apartment she ran to the bathroom and puked some more, now Dejan followed her and held her hair for her. They sat like that for half an hour before he eventually carried her to bed so she could relax. Both were fully dressed, but Mimi felt like that was maybe for the best since she knew she was frustrated enough as it was.

Mimi ended up laying with her head on his chest getting an update on everything that had happened when she was away while Dejan gently played with her hair. He told her everything from how he had gotten to start a match, to drinking some bottles of rakija, to Anita trying to have him sign off the kids for her to sign the divorce papers. He also assured her that he would never sign them off, much to her big relief.

After a while she could feel her eyes closing and she used all her power to look up at Dejan. “At least your hair grows fast… Goodnight” she drifted off to sleep but could still hear him right before, saying “Volim te draga”.

[isthiscurrent]

falling in place

my first ever short story/fanfic so I’m sorry if it sucks, I did my best!! hope you enjoy!! 

falling in place (reddie) 

wc: 5.2K

The fall of 1984. October has brought on a series of chilly mornings and brisk winds which have called for sweaters and hot chocolate runs before classes start. The sky is always a crisp, bright blue without any clouds, apart from the usual rain that the state of Maine receives quite often. School is in session, and the losers club is just waking up for school at five thirty on a friday morning. Eddie Kaspbrak awakes from his sleep at the ever-so-annoying beep of his alarm clock, and hurries to prepare for the school day. He has laid out clothes, which include a Nirvana t-shirt paired with a slightly oversized red flannel and blue jeans. Eddie grabs his book bag from the kitchen table, kisses his mother on the cheek, and walks out of his house and begins his walk to school.

On the way there, he meets up with Bill Denbrough and Stanley Uris, other members of the losers club. Bill and Eddie have been good friends ever since their early childhood, and they eventually met Stan when they entered into the fourth grade. Bill is dressed in blue jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, while Stan is wearing a checkered collared shirt and a pair of khakis. Of course, his shirt is neatly tucked into his pants. They begin to talk - or more complain - about their lack of motivation when it comes to completing their college applications. The losers club are seniors in high school, and they are attempting to submit all of their applications before the deadline.

“I don’t understand why we have to write essays for all of the colleges we apply to! Can’t I just submit the questionnaire and be done with it?” Eddie complained loudly, despite his fatigue from it being a Friday morning.

“Oh come on, they aren’t even difficult! I just think that someone has a bad case of senioritis,” Stan told Eddie with a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“Give him a break. Everyone is struggling with them even a little bit. Even you, Stan.” Bill added. He wasn’t completely sure that this was true, but he was trying to make Eddie feel a little better.

Stan only looked away, telling Bill that he was right. Bill smiled to himself a little, knowing very well that Stan doesn’t like to be proven wrong.

Also maybe a little bit because Bill thought that Stan was cute when he did that.

The three boys continued on their walk, quietly discussing their plans for after school. They had all planned on meeting at Bill’s house before the football game. Mike is on the varsity team, so the entire group went to as many games as they could to support him. They were really excited for the game tonight, since it was the big homecoming game. They planned on riding in Richie’s car, which he had saved up all his money for. Even though they are all 17, Richie and Bill are the only ones who have acquired their license. They still don’t drive to school though. They like to walk with their friends in the mornings (they don’t like to ride their bikes to school, Eddie thinks that someone might steal them).

They start to hear loud footsteps, as if someone is running. They all turn and see Richie sprinting down the street with a bag of McDonald’s in his hand. He was panting, clearly out of breath from his fast pace.

Eddie stopped in his tracks, waited for Richie to catch up with them and said, “Why the hell are you running? School doesn’t start for thirty minutes.”

“I… went to… grab some… breakfast for us! I was… running so it wouldn’t… get cold,” Richie struggled to say as he was still out of breath. “I knew that you… probably already left for school… and I wanted to catch up with you guys.”

Bill, sounding appreciative at the lengths Richie went to in order to get breakfast for them, said, “That was really thoughtful of you, Rich, but where did you get the money for that? We all know that you’re broke.”

Richie only smiled, and then spoke. “I swiped some from my folks. They never notice when I’m in the house, so I figured they wouldn’t notice if I took some money.”

Stan was obviously disapproving of his actions. He sighed heavily before he spoke. “I’m not sure that’s how it works. I know my parents would know if I took some of their money.”

“That’s because your parents actually pay attention to you, Stan the man. My parents couldn’t give a shit about me if they tried.”

Everyone, while they knew this fact, developed a saddened look of sympathy for their friend. Richie opened up the bag of McDonald’s, and handed Eddie, Stan and Bill one bacon egg and cheese biscuit, a hashbrown, and a small fry. Richie then brought food out of the bag for himself. They all ate their food on the way to school, where they would meet up with Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom and Mike Hanlon. Mike used to be homeschooled, but when he began high school, he made the transfer to public school (after extensive begging from Bill and Bev).

The school yard was nearly full by the time the four boys arrived, and they met up with the other members of the loser’s club. They were nearly late, as usual, so Bill quickly told them the plan for this afternoon, and they all went their separate ways, except for Richie and Eddie, who had first period together. Richie, being playful (only not in his mind), swung an arm around Eddie’s shoulders as they entered the hallway. Eddie shrugged him off, with a slight annoyed look on his face.

“Would you stop that? You do that all the time! You know that I don’t like it…” Eddie told Richie, exasperated. Richie gave him the side eye, with a small smile on his face, that only Eddie could pick up on. Richie, even though they only had a minute to make it to class, suddenly pulled Eddie into the boys restroom. Richie checked to make sure that I was clear, and then pushed Eddie up against the wall and kissed him.

“I have been waiting all morning to do that. Everyone was always around, we never got a moment to ourselves…” Richie told Eddie in between kisses. Eddie only smiled widely at his secret boyfriend, and resumed the kiss.

“I have been waiting too. It’s hard to keep it from them when all I want to do is kiss you all the time,” Eddie said to Richie lovingly.

“I really think that we should tell them soon, Eds. It’s been 3 months. I’m actually surprised that we have kept it a secret for this long.”

“I know, me too. I want to tell them, but what if they don’t approve? I mean I’m sure that they would, and I have a feeling that Bev and Bill already know about us, but there is still that fear…” Eddie whispered quietly, scared.

“Oh please, they have been rooting for us from day one, and you know that too. Once we tell them, everything will be out in the open, and it will be good. Especially when I can hold your hand whenever I want, kiss you whenever I want, and do this whenever I want…” Richie began to lightly kiss Eddie’s neck, knowing all too well that made Eddie go crazy. Eddie took this time to imagine what it would be like to tell them, and how they would react. He suddenly pictured them shutting Richie and himself out, disapproving of their relationship. Eddie knew this was irrational, since he knew that they would all be thrilled that they were finally together, but the fear of being shut out still haunted them. Richie tries to tell this to Eddie everyday, but they still haven’t told the others.

No one knows but them.

“Maybe we should tell them tonight… it’s as good a time as any,” Richie suggested. “Nothing bad is going to happen Eds, I promise.”

Eddie only looked at him, skeptical, for a few moments. His face then broke into a nervous smile, and said, “Okay, we can tell them tonight.”

“Really, Eds? You’re sure? This is great! Everything is going to be fine.”

“No, I’m not sure, but the truth has to come out at some point.” Eddie admitted, and smiled again at his boyfriend.

Richie proceeds to kiss Eddie, and tell him, “I love you so much Eds… you know that, right?”

“Yes, I know,” Eddie said with a bright smile. “I love you too, you idiot. But come on, we have to get to class. People are going to get suspicious.”

“Eddie, we are already 5 minutes late. I think that everyone is suspicious by now.”

The two boys walked to class together, holding hands, and making sure that no one was in the hall to see them. They wanted to make sure that no rumors got spread around before they had the chance to tell the others.

Later that day

The last bell rang, dismissing them from school for the weekend. All of the losers met in the school yard, and then started their walk to Bill’s house. The game started at seven, so they figured they would hang out for a while, head over to the diner for something to eat, and then go to the game. They all loved seeing Mike play, even though none of them really knew much about football. Nevertheless, they always had fun at the games. When they got to Bill’s house, Richie led everyone to the basement, which is where they normally hung out. Mike reached for the TV remote, and turned on a rerun of “Cheers”. No one actually watched it, it was mainly there for background noise. A conversation arose, with no real purpose, just trying to pass the time.

Ben was currently talking about his art project, and he seemed really excited about it.

“I’m doing an up-close portrait of a girl smoking a cigarette. It isn’t focused on her face, but there is going to be some red hair flowing in from off the canvas.”

Mike rose an eyebrow at Ben, knowing that the real subject of his painting was Bev, and everyone knew it. Except for Bev. The entire group could sense that Ben was completely in love with her, but she couldn’t be more oblivious.

Richie spoke up and said, “Okay, well while you’re working on that, I have something to tell you all…”

Eddie heard this and immediately looked up at Richie, shaking his head subtly, but Richie could tell that it wasn’t the right time to tell them. Richie, covering his tracks, said, “I’m not failing Spanish any more! Senorita Gonzalez gave me a ninety-three on my speech, and she even said ‘Muy bien Richie! Veo estudiaste.’”

Bev, not having taken Spanish, asked Richie, “What does that mean?”

“Not a clue, but it must have been good!” Richie laughed, and he received an exaggerated eye roll from Stan. Richie looked over at Eddie, giving him an apologetic look. He wanted everything to be okay for Eddie. Richie didn’t think that Eddie knew the extent of the love that Richie had for him. Eddie was the first person that made him feel cared for, loved, alive. He would do anything to keep him happy. To keep him loving him.

Eddie gazed at Richie, slightly angry that he almost told their friends, but also thinking how much he loved him. Richie was the most perfect being that Eddie had ever seen. His ability to make Eddie laugh more than he ever has, and how he understands him. Richie never judged Eddie for his weird quirks, and for a reason unknown to Eddie, Richie loved him. Both of them wanted nothing more than to have the whole group know the truth about their relationship, but for some reason, Eddie was hesitant. Richie knew this, and tried to support him, but he struggled to hide their relationship when he felt so passionate about it, and he wanted it to be out in the open with their friends. He felt that it was ridiculous to hide it. Eddie knew this, but still… nothing.

“Well, we should probably get going, if we want to beat the crowd to the diner.” Stan stated, staring at his pristine fingernails, as if they needed to be filed again.

Bill agreed with him. “Yeah, we should probably go. I’m starving! The cafeteria food today was horrendous.”

“Isn’t it always?” Bev said with a chuckle to go along with it. With that, they turned off the TV and started to grab their coats. They all piled into Richie’s car, turned up the radio, and made their way to the diner.

When the gang arrived, they sat in their favorite booth. In the back, by the window. On one side sat Bill, Bev and Ben on the end. On the other, Richie, Eddie and Stan - Mike couldn’t go to the diner, he had to get to the school early to warm up before the game. Eddie and Richie liked sitting in booths. It gave them the opportunity to hold hands underneath the table without anyone noticing, or for Richie to put his hand on Eddie’s thigh. No one noticed, or so they thought. Bill had speculated with Bev that they might be a thing, but they never said anything. They didn’t want to call out their friends and basically force them to tell them before they were ready. Bill wanted them to do this in their own time.

They all began looking at their menus, and Eddie’s fingertips grazed Richie’s hand which rested on his leg under the table. Richie, not wanting to give anyone any ideas, continued to look at his menu but a small smile spread on his face. Under the table, he flipped his hand over, and laced his fingers with Eddie’s. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, just like it always did when his skin came into contact with Richie’s.

“I don’t know which I want more… The cheeseburger or the chili dog. What do you guys think?” Ben asked the group. Eddie and Richie both said “chili dog” in unison, prompting an odd look from Bev, but she then agreed with them. Ben ended up getting the chili dog. They all ordered, and chatted as they waited for their food. Bill talked about how excited he was for the football game. Everyone in the group thinks that Bill secretly wishes that he was more social in high school, and he loves going to the football games since nearly their whole grade goes. Bill has always been outgoing, even through the bullying he received as a child because of his stutter. He grew out of it when he started high school, and Bill has always wanted to get involved in more things, and meet new people. The majority of the group was the same way. Although, some were better than others when it came to actually getting involved. Mike tried out for the football team his freshman year, and ended up making varsity. He is playing in the game tonight, and he is really excited that his friends are going (even though they usually go anyway). Bev got involved in theater, and she is really good at it. She auditions for all of the plays and musicals, and always ends up getting lead roles. Eddie had always secretly wanted to join theater too, but he was afraid of the ridicule he was sure to receive. Little did he know, Richie would have been so excited for Eddie to join theater. He would have been so supportive, and happy that the boy that he had loved for so long had found something that he loved. Richie, on the other hand, was in charge of the school announcements. He would go on every morning and afternoon and tell the students important information about clubs, sports and whatnot, while throwing some jokes in the mix. Richie loved it, and everyone loved him because of it. It had made Richie quite popular, same with Mike and Bev. Bill liked to write short stories for the school paper, even though hardly anyone ever read it. The group reads them religiously, and always raves about how good they are. They all tell him he should be a writer one day. The rest of the group was more closed off. Ben spent a lot of time in the library, reading nonfiction stories and helping the librarians shelve books. He didn’t mind this, he actually quite enjoyed it. Stan had always had a fascination for birds, but they didn’t have a club for that at the school, so he just goes to the park on his own with his binoculars and bird book. He enjoys the quiet time with no distractions, just him and his birds.

Their food arrived, and they all dug in. Richie had always been a little bit of a messy eater, and when he was taking a bite of his cheeseburger, he got ketchup all over his mouth. He didn’t make an effort to wipe it off, he just kept inhaling the thing. Eddie saw this, and thought to himself, “Why do I love this loser?”

Richie stole a glance at Eddie from the corner of his eye, and saw Eddie staring at him.

“Yes, Eds?”

“You have ketchup all over your face. Here,” Eddie handed him his napkin. “It looks like you need this more than I do.”

Richie took the napkin, smiling. “You always take such good care of me.”

It was comments like these, even though they came across as joking, that had a second meaning, which was only meant for Eddie. Eddie did take good care of Richie, and he was so appreciative of it. He could picture them, older, still sitting in this diner, Eddie handing him a napkin.

God, Richie was so in love.

Bev, on some level, also understood that certain comments that Richie made to Eddie, and vice versa, meant something different. Something more meaningful. Bev had always been more intuitive when it came to stuff like that than the others. Bill came in a close second, but there were still some things that he didn’t catch. Bev looked over to Bill to see if he had picked up on the same thing that she did in the brief conversation between Richie and Eddie, but he didn’t, from what she could tell. He seemed to be too invested in seasoning his fries to be interested. Bev glanced back over to Richie, who had an odd look on his face. He kept sneaking looks at Eddie, and Eddie was doing the same to Richie.

There is definitely something more than a friendship going on there, Bev thought to herself. Ben then started talking about the history of football, and she let herself forget the thought of Richie and Eddie, and listen to Ben, no matter how boring the topic.

After they had all eaten dinner and split the bill six different ways, they all piled into Richie’s car again, and made their way to the Derry High School football field. They were a tad late, as usual, so they squeezed into the student section wherever they would fit. They sat down on the cold bleachers, and looked for Mike’s jersey number on the field. Their school, the Eagles, were up by a touchdown. They didn’t even have to ask who made the goal, they already knew it was Mike. He was the quarterback, and a really good one. In the current play, Mike was running with the ball into the endzone. Richie stood up on the bleacher and yelled, “GO MIKE! KICK THEIR ASS!” Eddie immediately hushed him, looking around anxiously to see if any administrators who were supervising the game had heard, yet no one did. In fact, even if they did, they probably wouldn’t care. Richie looked down at Eddie and laughed, Bev and Ben joining in. Bill was still watching Mike run down the field. He is about to get tackled, and Mike throws the ball to one of his teammates near the end zone. Then, the announcer says “Another touchdown for the Eagles”. The crowd cheers, and many of the students start to whoop. The group joins them, happy for their friend. Mike, from on the field, looks for his friends in the bleachers. He spots them easily, for Richie and Bev are now both standing on top of the bleacher, jumping up and down. Mike’s face lights up at the sight of his friends having fun at his game. He never told them before, but he really likes it when they come to the games. It shows they care.

“Man, I should have tried out for football. Look at all these people here to see Mike!” Richie said to the group.

“Rich, you’ve never played football a day in your life,” Eddie said in response. “How would you have made the team?”

“It doesn’t look that hard. All you have to do is throw that odd-shaped ball around.”

Stan just rolled his eyes at Richie.

The rest of the game finished out well. Mike made 2 more touchdowns, and the team ended up winning 36-18. They all piled out of the bleachers, and went to wait outside the locker room for Mike. The temperature had dropped a good 20 degrees, and they were all shivering. Stan kept complaining that he was cold, and Eddie was afraid that he was going to get hypothermia, to which Bill told him that it wasn’t exactly cold enough for that.

Richie thought this was the perfect time to tell the group about him and Eddie. He kept trying to signal to him, but he wasn’t picking up on them. Richie decided that Eddie had already told him that he wanted to tell them tonight, so he did.

“I’m in love with Eddie,” Richie blurted out, immediately catching Eddie’s attention.

Eddie looked horrified, and realized that there was no taking back what Richie had said. They all heard. Bev and Bill looked slightly shocked, but somewhat not, because they kind of already knew. Stan had a very confused look on his face, looking between Richie and Eddie. In fact, everyone was looking at Eddie, waiting for a response.

Eddie took a deep breath, and then said, “...and I love him too… I have for a long time…” Eddie was very unsure of his words. Not that he didn’t mean them, of course he did, but he felt like he was going to throw up because of how nervous he suddenly was. His voice was small and quiet, and shaking slightly.

Richie looked at his boyfriend, smiling, and then looked to the rest of the group. Bev also had a smile on her face, and Bill was smirking. Ben looked happy, but confused at the same time. Stan, for once, was grinning at Richie. That never happened.

“I think I knew. On some level at least. How long have you been together?” Bev asked the two boys.

“It’s been about 3 months,” Richie told her.

“Four in November,” Eddie added. Despite his nerves, he was glad that they were telling everyone. They had been keeping it a secret for so long, and it felt good to finally have it out in the open. It was hard for them to keep it a secret, and it was such a relief to not have to hide it anymore. They were free.

“Well, I’m glad you guys told us, but I’m sorry that you felt that you had to keep your relationship a secret. We would have been so happy, and we are now! What kept you from telling us?” Bill asked them.

Richie and Eddie shared a look, and Eddie realized that there was no point in lying, so they told them.

“We-I was afraid that you all wouldn’t accept it. I’ve been bullied and made fun of all my life, and I didn’t want that to carry over to you guys… So I made Richie keep it between us. Now, I realize that was stupid, and there was nothing to be afraid of. I’m sorry, especially to you, Rich. I was being paranoid, and we should have just told them in the first place,” Eddie confessed to the group. He couldn’t lie to himself, it felt amazing to finally get that all off of his chest. For so long, he had been afraid to be who he was. When he was growing up, he realized his feelings for Richie, and he thought something was wrong with him. But Richie told him that he was perfect the way he was. Richie saw him, understood him, better than anyone. If Eddie was bothered by something, Richie was the first to notice, and try to make it better. If Eddie was sad, Richie was the first to comfort him. Eddie wanted to keep this sacred relationship between them, for a couple reasons. One because he loved Richie, and didn’t want anything to wreck their relationship, but mostly because he was afraid of the ridicule both he and Richie would receive. Richie was strong enough to handle himself, but Eddie was still seen as the small weakling who has to get help from his stronger friends. When he was with Richie, he didn’t feel small, or at a disadvantage. He felt whole, like they were equals. Eddie wanted it to stay that way forever.

The sudden, abrasive hug that Eddie had received from Bev tore him from his thoughts, and back to the rest of the group. Bev had her arms wrapped around Eddie’s small frame, trying to show him that they would always accept Eddie, no matter what, Bev and the rest of the group didn’t care whether or not he was gay. They only wanted him to be happy, and if he found happiness with Richie, that was even better.

During this ordeal, Richie stood next to Eddie, taking it all in. He was overjoyed in this moment. Looking at the faces of his friends, whom he loved more than anything, seeing the looks of happiness and acceptance, he felt pure joy. He could not put into words how proud he was of his boyfriend. Eddie finally came clean to their friends, something he had been waiting for him to do for a long time. Eddie and Richie knew each other more than they knew themselves, so Richie knew what this confession meant for Eddie. His fear of not being accepted or loved by his friends took a toll on his life, and when they began to hide their relationship, a small light went out in Eddie, but one was also lit. When Eddie told Bill, Bev, Ben and Stan about their relationship and everyone showed him that nothing had changed in their feelings toward him, that light was relit.

The locker room door swung open, and Mike came out, holding his football gear in his hand.

“So, what did I miss?”

Six pairs of eyes landed on him, and they just started laughing.

Later that night

Richie and Eddie were laying on top of Eddie’s bed in his room. They were making sure to be extra quiet, since the time was currently 1:37 in the morning, and they didn’t want to accidentally wake his mom. She still didn’t know about their relationship, and they intended to keep it that way. They had laid awake talking for the past 3 hours, after they had left everyone for the night. They had all planned on staying the night in Bill’s basement, but they had wanted to spend some time alone. Considering the events that had taken place that night. The rest of the losers are still over at Bill’s house. Eddie’s head was currently on Richie’s chest, and while they were softly talking in the dark, they felt at peace. It was as if their friends knowing about their relationship was the missing piece to the puzzle. They felt complete.

Eddie was the first to speak after a couple minutes of silence: “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Eds. You can ask me anything,” Richie said to him in response.

Eddie looked at him apprehensively, and slowly began to speak. “Were you mad that I didn’t want to tell everyone right away? I understand if you were, I wouldn’t blame you. I know that you really wanted to tell them a long time ago.”

Richie looked at him, confused. He didn’t see how Eddie could ever think that he was mad at him in the slightest.

“Eddie, why would I have been mad at you? I knew how nervous you were, and I would never pressure you into something that you didn’t want to do. Eddie, I love you, and if waiting to tell our friends about our relationship was something that you felt more comfortable doing, I was more than happy to wait with you,” Richie said to him in a slight whisper with a small smile on his lips. Eddie instantly felt comforted. Richie had that kind of power over him.

Eddie stayed quiet for a little bit, not feeling the need to say anything. They both felt nothing but bliss. After a couple minutes, Eddie leaned up to kiss Richie. It started off soft, and gradually grew stronger. They hadn’t gone any further than kissing and the occasional touching, and they were both okay with that. Richie and Eddie were okay with where their relationship was at the moment, and they just wanted to stay there for a while. Of course, when the time came, they would want to take their relationship to the next level, but for now, they felt good. They were content.

For the rest of the night, they laid in each other’s arms, dreaming of their future together. Thinking of how much they loved one another. Knowing that they will be together forever.

“Rich, I know that I don’t say it as much as I should, but you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You always believe in me and accept me for who I am. I know that I am stubborn and difficult sometimes, but I always know that you will be there for me. I love you, more than words can say. Thank you, for being you,” Eddie said to him while making eye contact. Richie stared back, trying to find the right words to say, but he couldn’t come up with anything close to how he was feeling. He wanted to tell him that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Eddie, living happily ever after. He wants to wake up next to him everyday, and take care of him. He told him in the only way he knew that he could. He leaned down, and once again rested his lips against Eddie’s. This time, it was gentle, loving, and it spoke a thousand words. Eddie immediately knew what Richie was thinking, and kissed him back, showing him that he felt the same way. They fell asleep shortly after, and felt nothing but bliss.

[sportifynews]

1:45

Sky Sports News reporter Kaveh Solhekol says Gareth Bale’s return to Tottenham from Real Madrid is ‘very close’ to being completed

Sky Sports News reporter Kaveh Solhekol says Gareth Bale’s return to Tottenham from Real Madrid is ‘very close’ to being completed

Gareth Bale’s agent has told Sky Sports News the forward has never been closer to leaving Real Madrid since his then world-record transfer in 2013 and is waiting for the green light to fly to London in his private jet and seal the move to Tottenham.

Bale’s advisors are talking to Spurs about a potential loan move from Real and negotiations have reached the stage that lawyers were drawing up contracts on Wednesday night.

Gareth Bale back to Spurs Q&A

Leon Bailey still wants PL move, Spurs interested

Tottenham transfer rumours

Transfer Centre LIVE!

It is understood Bale would like to return to Spurs – where he spent six seasons between 2007 and 2013 – and if a deal can be agreed with the Spanish club and that while slow progress is being made, all parties are confident a transfer can be done.

“There’s a long way to go on some issues, but without doubt Gareth is closer to leaving Madrid than at any time in last seven years,” Bale’s agent, Jonathan Barnett, told Sky Sports News.

“The deal is complicated, but there’s reason to believe a deal is close and things could move very quickly if discussions continue to go well.”

Spurs head coach Jose Mourinho did not want to be drawn on the club’s pursuit of Bale when fielding questions ahead of Thursday’s Europa League qualifier against Bulgarian side Lokomotiv Plovdiv.

1:20

Tottenham boss Jose Mourinho refused to confirm the club are interested in signing Bale from Real Madrid

Tottenham boss Jose Mourinho refused to confirm the club are interested in signing Bale from Real Madrid

Asked if Bale was a player he admired, Mourinho said: “I tried to sign him for Real Madrid which was not possible to do during my time there. But the president followed my instinct and my knowledge and the season I left he brought Gareth to the club.

“There is no secret on [my admiration of the player], I think even Gareth knows that.”

However, it is understood that Mourinho, having received permission from Madrid to open discussions, has spoken to Bale, explaining how he would play a pivotal role in his system.

“Gareth has spoken to Jose and explained how Spurs have a special place in his heart,” added Barnett.

Bale remains in Madrid for now but is believed to be excited by the progress which has been made.

1:04

Tottenham defender Eric Dier admits it is ‘impossible’ for the Spurs squad to ignore speculation surrounding the return of Bale

Tottenham defender Eric Dier admits it is ‘impossible’ for the Spurs squad to ignore speculation surrounding the return of Bale

Agreement has been reached on many of the key financial issues – although there is still crucial work to be carried out on what is understood to be a complicated negotiation.

Having earned more than any other British footballer, the financial aspects of his deal, including his image rights, need to be agreed by a number of parties.

It is thought unlikely that Bale, who earns in excess of £600,000-a-week, will take a pay cut as part of any deal and that Tottenham are the only club presently in discussions with the 31-year old Wales international.

Real would prefer Bale to leave on a permanent deal.

United: No meaningful talks took place for Bale

3:10

Sky Sports News reporters Dharmesh Sheth and Kaveh Solhekol explain why Manchester United never began ‘credible negotiations’ to sign Bale from Real Madrid

Sky Sports News reporters Dharmesh Sheth and Kaveh Solhekol explain why Manchester United never began ‘credible negotiations’ to sign Bale from Real Madrid

Sky Sports News reporter Alan Myers on the view from Old Trafford:

“Once it became apparent that a return to the Premier League was a distinct probability for Gareth Bale, it was almost inevitable that Manchester United’s name would be linked with the Real Madrid star.

“Compounding the issue would of course be the impasse over United’s long-running pursuit of Jadon Sancho. But the reality is, while United undoubtedly will have raised an eyebrow to what was happening with Bale, there was no real credible negotiation or dialogue between the two parties.

“Privately, the hierarchy at United were prepared to listen to the details of any such proposed move back to England for Bale but that’s as far as it got within the corridors of Old Trafford

1:35

Former Tottenham director of football Damian Comolli has warned the club’s attempts to sign Bale could be derailed by egos, as opposed to financial issues

Former Tottenham director of football Damian Comolli has warned the club’s attempts to sign Bale could be derailed by egos, as opposed to financial issues

“There is a widely understood belief that the former Spurs man wants to return to the place where he made his name, but equally having the name of Manchester United connected would always have strengthened any bargaining hand in negotiations.

“United’s rebuilding process is accompanied by a strict wage structure and, although it would be a very exciting transfer, it would go against Ole Gunnar Solskjaer’s master plan

“Spurs are possibly in line to make a double swoop with Sergio Reguilon looking likely to join Bale in London, this was another deal which never went past the discussion stage at Old Trafford – one of the sticking points being a buy-back clause which United would not entertain.”

Insight: What needs to happen for the deal to go through?

Tottenham is ‘where Bale wants to be’, according to his agent Jonathan Barnett

Sky Sports News’ Paul Gilmour:

“There is a feeling that the most difficult aspect of the deal has already been sorted out which is the wages. Real Madrid are willing to subsidise part of that to make this deal happen.

“What we know as of Wednesday morning, Tottenham and Real Madrid remain in talks over the sensational return to north London and those talks centre around a loan deal. What we don’t know if there’s the possible option to buy.

“Bale has two years left on his contract, and that loan might just see out those two years. There certainly is a feeling among those close to the deal that this is more likely to happen than not as things stand. There’s a real optimism.

“The Bale to Tottenham story has come up in most windows over the past three years but the issues has always been about them not being able to afford his wages.

“If Tottenham are in a position where they only have to pay between £200,000 to £300,000-a-week, there is a feeling that this deal is one within their grasp.”

Analysis: Spurs taking a calculated risk for Bale

6:54

Bale can help lift Tottenham to a top-four Premier League finish if they sign him from Real, according to former Spurs boss Harry Redknapp

Bale can help lift Tottenham to a top-four Premier League finish if they sign him from Real, according to former Spurs boss Harry Redknapp

Sky Sports News reporter Kaveh Solhekol told The Transfer Show:

“There are three reasons why this is happening. The first is because Bale wants to play for Spurs again. Secondly, Real Madrid want to sell him, they need to sell him to get his wages off their books and the third reason is that Spurs want him back, Daniel Levy wants him back.

“There has been a big mood change as far as Bale and Real Madrid are concerned. Last summer, he came very close to a move to China that was blocked at the last minute but Real Madrid have made it very clear that they want him out this summer. Bale before ha stuck to his guns and said ‘I’ve got two years left on my contract, I’m not going anywhere’ but in the last couple of weeks, his position has changed, he wants to play football again and he will get that at Spurs.

“Spurs’ motto is ‘To Dare is To Do’, which means you have to believe in yourself and take a risk. Spurs are taking a risk signing Bale but it is a calculated risk, it makes sense to them because they are going to get him on loan, they will be paying a portion of his wages and over the whole season, it looks like he will cost them about £20m and in the current economic climate, it is a deal that makes sense for all parties.”

Analysis: ‘Now is the time for Bale to leave Madrid’

1:17

Bale joining Tottenham from Real would suit all parties, according to the Spanish club’s former president Ramon Calderon

Bale joining Tottenham from Real would suit all parties, according to the Spanish club’s former president Ramon Calderon

Former Real Madrid president Ramon Calderon told Sky Sports:

“If it’s Tottenham that he wants to go to, I’m sure he’ll go there. I don’t have a personal knowledge of his intentions or the terms of the deal, but apparently it looks to be Tottenham.

“Sometimes when the salary of the player wanting to leave Real Madrid is very high, we’ve shared part of that salary but I don’t know if that’s going to be the case now.

2:55

FREE TO WATCH: Highlights from Everton’s win over Tottenham

FREE TO WATCH: Highlights from Everton’s win over Tottenham

“He came here being the MVP from Tottenham, but now the point is to see if he can recover his time as a good player as it’s clear that Zinedine Zidane doesn’t count on him. It’s the time to end this situation and for me it’s the best moment to do that.

“I suppose it will be [a permanent deal]. He has two years left on his contract so if he leaves this season, I feel he would stay at the new club for the rest of his career. He has three or four more years at a good level, so if he goes to Tottenham maybe he will finish his career there.

“I don’t know if Dele Alli will be part of the deal, but I don’t think Tottenham would want to let him go as he’s a very good player. Any big team would want to have him in their side.”

Transfer Centre LIVE!

All the latest news, analysis and rumours from the window in one place.

The summer transfer window will run for 10 weeks from July 27 and close at 11pm on October 5.

A domestic-only window for trades between the Premier League and EFL then runs from October 5 and closes on Friday, October 16 at 5pm. Follow all the news and analysis on Sky Sports News and across Sky Sports‘ digital platforms, including with our dedicated Transfer Centre blog.

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The post Spurs in Bale talks over loan deal appeared first on Sportify News.

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For Atletico’s Trippier, a goalless Madrid draw ultimately had it all

Alexis Nunes and Julien Laurens break down Real Madrid’s 0-0 draw with derby rivals Atletico Madrid, including an underwhelming effort from Eden Hazard.

MADRID — By the end of this derbi, take my word for it, Kieran Trippier stood in the flash zone of the Wanda Metropolitano and gushed with enthusiasm for what he’d just been through.

The phrase “best derby I’ve ever played in” was the one he reached for. North London? Spurs vs. Arsenal? What are they?

I’m an optimist, a romantic, and therefore, sure, like everyone else I’d have loved Karim Benzema‘s wonderful, towering header to have sneaked into the corner of the net or Trippier’s searing cross in the first half to have met the toe of Koke’s boot as it was intended to and zipped past Thibaut Courtois.

We love goals, all of us. But I was inspired by this meeting of Madrid’s two biggest, noisiest inhabitants.

Trippier had loved the intensity, the tension, the different kinds of questions Spanish football asked him compared to the Premier League.

More, and typically for who’s steadfastly set himself to learn Spanish at double-quick time we shouldn’t be totally surprised, the Bury Beckham has pretty instantly understood the impact of this cross-capital feud.

The welcome for the Atleti bus as it nudged along Avenida Luis Aragones and reached the space-aged Wanda Metropolitano was rapturous. Of course.

Vibrant, loyal, defiant, things exploded (fireworks, don’t worry) and passionate about their team. As Scot, I know how inspirational it can be to perpetually feel like the underdog — that’s the Atleti experience when Madrid lord it over them.

But before he went out and dignified this 0-0 draw with daring, athleticism, intelligence and total, total focussed attention I guess some ghosts danced their way through Trippier’s psyche.

It was in exactly this spot that he said goodbye to Tottenham. The Metropolitano was not only the disappointment of his entire playing career, even ahead of losing a World Cup semifinal with England having put them 1-0 up against Croatia.

To reach Spurs’ first ever European Cup or Champions League final and lose without properly competing, without fully imposing their personality must have been truly heartbreaking.

Then, in the same part of the deep bowels of this magnificent arena, to admit, as Trippier did, that his season hadn’t been up to scratch and that he had to change something, struck me as the mark of a true man.

Honesty, self-assessment and painful admission on a night when most competitors, especially proud ones, must have wanted to go and either hide or drown sorrows until they couldn’t swim around the mind.

So, suddenly, he was back at the Metropolitano, not for a debut, but for the biggest test, Juventus included, of his adaptation to La Liga football.

Kieran Trippier and Atletico Madrid stymied Real Madrid’s attack featuring Eden Hazard.

Honestly, while he wasn’t the man of the match, I thought that Trippier was super.

Athleticism, yes. Diligence, yes. But also terrific application of football intelligence to the extent that he was able to test the rivals in front of him and to blunt Eden Hazard, on Madrid’s left, while the Belgian was full of vitality and impishness.

Trippier’s key moment came midway through the first half when, set free down the right, he made time stop and looked up in a kind of theatrical way as if to say: “Hey, LADS, I’m in a great position here …anyone want to take advantage?”

Captain Koke did, but it was typical of the two strikers, Diego Costa and Joao Felix, each of whom had a night when they certainly didn’t want to offend any visiting player (choirboys let’s say) that they weren’t in the vicinity.

So Koke bursts into the Madrid box, Trippier’s centre is what the Oxford English Dictionary would define as ‘The corridor of uncertainty’ and it’s fizzing along at laser-speed.

– Champions League group stage: All you need to know – When does the transfer window reopen?

Oblak’s save from Benzema might have been the goal-prevention moment of the raucous night, just ahead of his full-length dive to his left to push Toni Kroos’s wonderful right footed volley around the post.

But Courtois’ interception of that Trippier centre, a six foot four man not only at full stretch outwards into his six yard box, but with arm extended like Clark Kent, was simply magnificent.

World Cup third/fourth play-off and Courtois wins it, first Madrid derbi and Courtois tarnishes Trippier’s golden moment…

They’ll be back for more. I liked watching an English import look not only as if he was comfortable in his clothes, but utterly enjoying himself.

What added a little lustre to Trippier’s night was the fact that he really worked another Belgian in a way which spoiled the chances of this being an ultra-hazardous night for the Colchoneros.

Hazard was superb…

More News

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[ciiromessi]

A couple of months ago I was interviewing Thierry Henry and we got to talking about Lionel Messi. Like most of us, even this superlative French athlete is left gasping for breath when he watches his former teammate play and grasping for superlatives when he talks about him. But he shared a little anecdote.

Henry mentioned that part of Messi's magic is that even in training he'll provide performances, skill, sporting aggression and explosiveness like those which won Sunday's amazing Clasico. Effectively there was a Bruce Banner/Incredible Hulk moral from Henry's tale.

"Don't make him angry. You won't believe what he's like when he's angry," was the gist of it.

The ratio of training sessions to matches must be approximately five to one so if Messi has played just short of 600 times for his club, that's 3000 training sessions, give or take, as a senior player. Time enough to get bored, for things to get stale or time to tick over; time to tell yourself that so long as you're intense for about 75 percent of them, you're fine.

Not Messi. Not according to Henry.

He told me tales of when Messi might take a kick in a training match, or when whoever was refereeing the training match didn't give a foul, or gave a bad offside. Messi might lose his temper, and the way he'd take that out on those who'd imposed that perceived injustice was to run around like a mad thing, winning the ball back, dribbling past everyone and scoring. He'd do it again and again until he calmed down.

The media and general public don't get to see these things happen. But players do. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of times. Now, when the dust settles from Real Madrid's defeat, it's something that Marcelo could have done with realizing.

Football's a contact sport and when I say that the Brazil international, a wonderful player and notable good guy that he most certainly is, knew just what he was doing when his elbow connected with Messi's mouth, I'm just noting what my eyes tell me was indisputably true. These things go on; it doesn't make Marcelo a criminal and I suspect that the refereeing team simply missed it rather than outright ignored it.

What happened next, however, was the Bruce Banner moment. Messi came to life. Furious. Intent on making someone pay.

But first, I want you to take note of something if you haven't already. When his mouth was split open, when he was lying there dazed and bleeding, when he had to play with tissue stuffed around his mouth and nose to ensure that he wasn't bleeding so much that he had to leave the pitch, what kind of fuss did Messi make?

Did he lose his temper at the ref? The linesman? Did he go looking to stick his studs in Marcelo? No to all those questions.

When Sergio Ramos did his Bruce Lee impersonation on Messi, risking a serious ankle or knee injury to Barca's all-time genius, did Messi lose his temper at an opponent who's previously been sent off for precisely the same crime? Did he complain to the officials along the lines of "How many times?" "Are you blind?" or "Are you on their side?" -- precisely the kind of insults you hear from oodles of players in his situation and which then get the offended party banned.

No. He didn't. Not a bit of it. He just stored up his anger and then cut loose.

I've told it before but for those who don't know, my first interview with Messi was in late summer 2006. He'd just changed to Adidas as his kit sponsor, and they were delighted to have this promising kid. But when they did a product launch and put Messi on the roster of four or five footballers available for interview, they didn't treat him like a superstar. There was a little curtain over the interview booth and no queue. Nobody moving me along after five minutes. Looking back, it was a bit quaint.

I asked him about the fouls he was already taking. As a fiery Scot, I wasn't asking him about his glacier-like sense of calm. (To date, he's only ever been sent off once, and it was a total miscarriage of justice even then.) I was asking him, I admit, why he didn't go seeking personal justice with boot or fist? I really thought it was inevitable that he'd one day lose the plot completely and get some "equalizing" done.

Messi told me that if he was kicked in the first couple of minutes of a match, it could hurt like hell; he's actually human in that respect. But thereafter he said, "I'm so involved in the game, I hardly feel anything, and all I want to do is get the ball back and punish them that way."

So it was here on Sunday night, and the goal that followed the Marcelo elbow was pretty glorious. He'd been catalysed into a reaction of such ferocity and intensity that we saw one of the better goals of his long Clasico career, a fixture in which he's now the career top scorer.

Dani Carvajal is a fine footballer, arguably the best right-back anywhere right now. But the image of him taking a fresh air swipe at the ball as Messi dragged it past him with his weaker foot before finishing is one that'll live long in the memory.

Now this might be controversial but for my way of thinking about things, there's more that binds Sergio Ramos and Messi than most might initially acknowledge. Ramos is something of a magician too. He produces acts of defiance and last-minute glory of  a sheer, naked will to win that are from the same generic family as what Messi conjures up.

Each of them plays off their own personal comic book scripts. They don't see games as we see them; they see contests as incomplete until they've written the dramatic ending. The difference is that when Ramos has his Bruce Banner moment, it comes out of nowhere and usually with no reason. A gushing reservoir of blood to the head and then a similarly coloured card. I think it's 22 red cards now, maybe more.

All of the above from Messi and Ramos helped turn this game.

Yes, it's quite true that Madrid looked like they would use this game as a metaphor for the entire Zinedine Zidane reign. It wasn't the manager's fault that Ramos did what he did, nor was it Zidane's fault that Casemiro ran out of credit, playing right on the razor's edge of a red card for the second consecutive match.

James coming on after the red card looked odd, too. But when Madrid equalized, take a look at what has happened to get them there. Caution hasn't so much been thrown to the wind as it's been shredded up like confetti and thrown into the path of a hurricane.

Madrid, at this stage, are playing three at the back with Ramos off. A 3-3-3. But, hold on: of those three at the back, two are Marcelo and Carvajal. And as James produces his absolutely wonderful goal, a little gem of invention, determination and technique, Carvajal is playing right-wing and Marcelo, crossing, is the left winger. Madrid are playing one at the back. Nacho. It's a delight to see, and that shuffling of the pack when Zidane is able to bring on a talented "backup" player who changes the game -- be that Lucas, James, Alvaro Morata, Isco or Marco Asensio -- has been emblematic of his reign.

But when Sergi Roberto sets off on that purposeful, lung-busting, intelligent run that uses space so well, I wonder where Casemiro is. Well, he's on the bench because Zidane's taken him off for his own good. When Barcelona play the left wing overlap and the ball's cut back to Messi, would Ramos have been there to try and block it? Might he have been able to advance and help close off Roberto's run?

We won't ever know, but what we do know is that he and Marcelo used physical bullying to try and subdue Messi. Instead, they turned him from a mild-mannered genius to an indestructible superhero who stripped off his shirt and held it up, name clear as day, to the Santiago Bernabeu crowd in a gesture that will now became one of the great iconic moments in Spanish sport for a century and more.

So, take the lesson. Don't make Messi angry. You won't like him when he's angry. +

[justaboywithaonemanshow]

My first Ed Sheeran Concert / Argentina / May 2017

I know nobody reads my blog and I’ve got literally 5 followers and this is going to be a long post but I really need to write this down ❤️

So last Saturday was my first ever Ed Sheeran show (and first ever proper concert experience) and I’ve got to say...IT WAS THE BEST FUCKING DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE!!! I’ve lived a pretty decent amount of years and had experienced some beautiful, unique things through out my time on earth but OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO AMAZING, I just can’t get over it, it’s been a week and I’m still super excited about it (I’m also a pain in the ass for everyone who knows me because I just can’t shut up, I’ve literally been talking about it non stop since Saturday) 

I arrived to La Plata at 10:30 am, I live in a small town 620 miles away from it, on the northeast of the country so I had to take a really really REALLY long 13 hour bus ride to get there. I rushed to the hotel, quickly changed my clothes and went to the stadium. My cousin/god-daughter was already queuing with her older brother who was saving my spot. All this madness actually started because of her, in September she’s turning 15 and when the tour dates were released I knew this was the most perfect present for her (she loves Ed). Long story short, at first I wasn’t going with her, her brother was (he’s not keen on Ed), I had to work plus I’m doing a master’s degree that should be finished by the end of may so things were complicated, but then I though fuck it, you only live once! and decided to join her. By the end of march I surprised her with the tickets (which I kept secret for a whole month) and our Ed Sheeran journey began.

I got to the stadium at 11:30am, we had general admision ticket (the front section) so we had to queue to get good spots, when I arrived there were like two blocks of people queuing, some of them arrived on Tuesday and were camping outside for 3 days! We started chatting with some girls who were next to us and spend the whole afternoon together, we were like 6 girls and a dad, laughing and having fun, talking about Ed and stuff, it was so nice to get to know them ❤️ We even heard Ed doing the soundcheck and started screaming like maniacs (Argentinean people scream a lot hahaha)

By 4pm the queue started moving and we were slowly entering the stadium in groups, we ran like crazy (while screaming, obviously) even though the guards kept telling us NO RUNNING! When I entered the stadium I was so shocked by how huge it was and how close we were to the stage! I had no hopes of being close since I was arriving on the date of the show, I even brought my glasses because I thought it would be so hard to see him but, to my surprise, we ended up like 6 or 10 people away from the barricade, we were so so happy we send a voice message to our family screaming in joy. 

And then the wait and torture began, we were literally compressed, I coudn’t even move my arms and sometimes it was really hard to breathe, my cousin ended up a little bit further away from me because I went to get merch when we arrived but I kept an eye on here most of the time. The first oppening show (a local singer) was pretty good, a bit boring. Then it was Antonio Lulic’s turn, he was super charismatic and fun but I was so uncomfortable I just wanted to go, there was a point where I though “this is awful, I’m never getting general admision tickets again” How wrong I was.

It was a really cold day, 9º and it rained a few times, by the time Antonio was done and we were waiting for Ed it started pouring heavily, but we where so hot and pushed together that it was a relief. At 20:30 exactly the screens were lit, we where like 40,000 people inside the stadium, and boom there he was, in all his ginger glory, playing Castle on the Hill with his small guitar sporting a red hoax t-shirt over a flannel (I was hysterical about the flannel lol I just missed them so much) and those lovely tight jeans. And at that moment I knew, everything was worth seeing him, the wait, the cold, the rain, the pain, the pushing, the hair of the girl in front of me in mouth, he was there, a few meters a away from me. It was surreal, seeing him there, I’ve watched so many videos, and I was seeing him live so clearly, he was incredibly beautiful, he had the warmest smile I’ve ever seen, his hair bright orange and the red suited him perfectly, his eyes bright and excited. 

As usual, when he arrived people screamed to the top of their lungs and the Ed Sheeran party began, we were so so loud, and he was so so impressed. After Castle on the Hill he said “Hello, this is amazing” and told us he was looking forward to coming back to Argentina because he remembered how loud we were, and dared us to be even louder than the whole european tour (we were).

The rest of the night was pure magic, I was still uncomfortable but it was so worthy, I kept moving from different spots because people literally dragged me, sometimes I was closer to the stage, sometimes not so much. I sang, jumped, cried and scream through the almost 2 hour show. Apart from being amazingly talented as always and his voice just as sweet, beautiful and powerful, he was super happy to be there. That was the best part, seeing him enjoying the experience as much as we were. 

He kept moving closer to the edge of the stage and I was swooning every time he did, you can literally hear me in the videos sighing “ahhh”.

He sang Castle on the Hill, Eraser, The A Team, Don’t / New man, Dive (which he asked us to sing the loudest while it was raining heavily), Bloodstream (one of my favourite to hear live, because of the energy that performance has and the heavy guitar action), Galway Girl, Feeling Good / I See Fire, Barcelona (every time he sang the lyrics in spanish he smirked, he knew we would scream even louder, Perfect, Happier (where he asked us to turn the lights on, the view was beautiful), Thinking out loud, Photograph (I cried through the whole song, you can hear me sobbing while singing in my video) and then something amazing happened. In between songs we, the people in the general admission area, started screaming “Give me love, give me love” to which he answered “Try next time”. After Photograph, he grabbed his guitar, looked at us while we kept screaming “Give me love” and asked Trevor to bring any guitar that was on tune and HE STARING SINGING GIVE ME LOVE, we were hysterical, we asked, he did it, it lasted nearly 9 minutes, it was breath taking, he even set up a chorus in the crowd, dividing us in Higher Harmony, Lower Harmony and asking to sing non-stop, no matter what happened while he sang and directed us like an orchestra (you must have seen the video by now) It was magnificent. Then came Nancy Mullingan (he asked us to sing the nanananana instrumental part) and Sing (we jumped and screamed like psychos, it was super fun and energetic). He then run to change and came back with the Argentinean football t-shirt, I have to admit I was one of those people who thought it was silly when singers do that, and I didn’t understand the excitement of it, but when he came back I nearly peed in my pants hahahahaha it suited him so nicely, bringing out the blue in his eyes 🎵 Shape of you began, we where all dancing and jumping, and for closure, You need me I don’t need you, where he got all excited moving and running trough the stage like crazy while waving an argentinean flag. (overly excited Ed in YNMIDNY is my favourite Ed) And then he was gone.

I took a few pictures, almost all of them awful (I’m really bad plus my phone is crap) and videos where you can hear the crowd (and me) more than you can hear Ed hahahaha I tried to enjoy the show through my eyes rather than my phone, and I’m so glad I did.

Since december I’ve been strugling with a lot, went through something I thought I’d never had to deal with that got me really really down. The person I loved the most, that I thought would never hurt me, crushed me into pieces and the last 6 months were awful. I was depressed, didn’t leave the house, didn’t showered, lost weight, cut contact with all my friends and family but then the latin american tour was announced and I bought tickets for my god daughter. By the end of march I made the decision to go with her and from that exact moment things got better, I was finally looking forward to something, dreaming about the experience, smiling once again.  Ed’s music lifted me up in a way I tought it was not possible. The moment I saw him my heart was pounding so much. He was there, he was real. People tell me “If you didn’t go you’d have regreted it so much”. Now, being aware of what this type of experience is, what it makes you feel, I would never forgive myself if I decided to stay. I literally never imagined it would be THIS GOOD. 

20.05.17 is, by far, the best day of my life, I’ll never forget it. Thank you singer songwriter Edward Christopher Sheeran. You’re a magical human being.

*Sorry for my english but as you might have guessed is not my first language.

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #29: Concert Withdrawal Week 1 (3/12/17)

The American leg of the Emotional Roadshow might have wrapped up last week, but that’s ok. We persevere. Thanks, Mark.

This Week’s TØPics:

US Emo Show Wraps

New “Sleepers” Video

Community Spotlight: Old Concert Pics Hit to Hit You Right in the Feels

BLIND SPECULATION About How This Concert Cycle Will End

Major News and Announcements:

Our only major release this week was the second installment in Mark’s “Sleepers” series. This episode confirmed that each installment in the series will focus around an acoustic soundcheck version of a non-single off of Blurryface, in this case “Message Man” featuring a great key escalation in the last chorus. The video was about much more than that, of course: we had more footage of the indoor football game between the TØP and Bellion crews, some great #aesthetic shots of Tyler in the red suit in the snow, and, yes, Tyler and Josh “kissing”.

Oh, and they won a Kid’s Choice Award for Best “New” Artist. Which is great. Sadly, neither of the boys were in attendance to get slimed accept the blimp in person.

Performances, Interviews, and Other Shenanigans:

The Emotional Roadshow wrapped in Louisville with a show just like any other, without any big speech about Blurryface beyond the normal promises to come back with new music some time (minus the above-pictured underwear message that caused Tyler to bust up at the end). It remains to be seen if we’ll get anything more final when they finish their last headlining show in Perth next month (possible), for their last festival show in the summer (unlikely), or if Tyler and Josh might sneak a finale show into Columbus, where they haven’t played a full show since 2015. 

A bunch of from the last week of touring all made their way online over the last week. Let’s cover ‘em and get it dun.

Michelle Lewis, Somewhere (?)

No idea when/where this interview took place (other than that it was post-Grammys).

Apparently the idea for giraffes in a show came from something Tyler overheard Josh say in his sleep (fanfic, go).

When asked if there was anyone they saw at the Grammys they might want to do a collab with, Tyler said bluntly, “Musically, no,” before adding with his stupid smile “Socially, yes.”

Tyler says that its important that they continue to involve their families in their lives because, when this moment inevitably ends, it will be more special because they shared it with others.

Josh says that they are able to stay humble because they make fun of each other so much whenever they do something dumb. Tyler absolutely loses it, laughing “You’re saying it’s like it’s my goal to make you feel like dirt.” “Two dumb dirt boys.”

Alt 94.9, Birmingham

This interview’s questions are chosen by the reliable method of cootie catchers.

When asked what they were like in high school, Josh says that he “rebelled against authority but also was interested in people caring about me”. Tyler “rebelled against people and cared about authority”. That sounds about right.

They tell a Meet Cute story involving working in Best Buy and electric toasters that I think went right over the head of the interviewer.

When asked about the underwear they wore at the Grammys, Josh claims that they were his friends’ and it ended up in his bag in Europe (ok), while Tyler goes in-depth on the exact type of underwear he wore, which again goes right over the interviewers head, poor lady.

Some Station, Charleston

One of the interviewers is very interested in Tyler’s opinion on college. Tyler states that time dedication can only cover two things- he had to do music and earn money to live, so he couldn’t keep up with his grades. Tyler states that he knew he had to drop out when he had to read the syllabus for his Spanish class and knew he had zero chance of passing and still doing everything else. He also says that he’s grateful that they had jobs that allowed them to schedule around their music interests.

They talk about Paramore and Panic’s friendship and mentorship a bit, which is fun.

106.1 The Underground, New Orleans

Nothing much to say about this one, other than that they both agree that they have no advice they’d like to give to their younger stuff, because they just got crazy lucky with everything falling into place for them.

The Q 107.5, Memphis

The band has learned in their travels to always order breakfast food at late-night diners. Sound advice.

The interviewer has one really great question about what songs they’ve made that they wish had gotten more exposure on radio after so many listeners demanded they play “Car Radio”, and even encourages Tyler to be honest. Tyler says that he understands the standard radio “formula” that makes sense for the radio, but he also says that he really enjoys how the Clique has picked their own singles that are utterly necessary for their shows in the same way the radio stuff is. The radio host quotes Childish Gambino about how his singles are always the ones he gets annoyed by first, and Tyler and Josh just chuckle knowingly.

The MAX 102.3, Louisville

This one’s a game of This or That. For brevity’s sake, I’ll post the stuff they have in common and differ on in different categories.

Same: Eggs (scrambled), bread (white), soft drink (Coke), frozen dairy (ice cream), M&Ms (plain), pizza/sushi (pizza), footware (sneakers), thrill-seeking (skydiving), vacation (beach), social media (Twitter), holiday (Christmas), sport (football), time of day (night), fun sport (both bowling and putt putt), console (Nintendo).

Different: ‘Merica food (Josh: hamburger, Tyler: hamburger or hot dog, depends on the day), transportation (Tyler: car, Josh: “I feel like there’s stuff involved”), carnival or circus (Josh: circus, Tyler: carnival “for people watching), weather (Tyler: storms, Josh: sunshine, because of course), dog/cat (Josh: cat, Tyler: humans).

99.7 DJX, Louisville

As Tyler says at the end of the interview, the guys have been promised a lot of original questions before by dozens of interviewers, but these guys actually managed the feat of asking nothing but original questions. Maybe not the most “deep” questions, but definitely original.

Asked if they’re hunters or gatherers, Tyler definitely gathers.

If a penguin walked through the door wearing a sombrero, Josh guesses he’d be searching for his vacation identity far from home.

A movie of Tyler’s life would be an action film starring Josh Dun in his film debut.

The 22nd Pilot (har-har) is Tyler’s dad.

If Tyler was a new crayon, he would be “Brand New Ballpit”, a crayon made up of every color.

Josh plays Monopoly with friends, not enemies, because he doesn’t have enemies.

Tyler prefers pirates to ninjas. “It’s a deeply personal story, and I don’t want to get into it right now.”

Josh’s autobiography title: “Tyler Joseph”.

98.9 Radio Now, Louisville

The interview starts out great, with Tyler and Josh looking over the interviewer’s shoulder and seeing that her phone wallpaper is a picture of them. This amuses them both to no end, but it bodes well for the rest of the interview.

Unlike the Birmingham interviewer, this one is all too aware that she won’t get a straight answer about how they met, so she just seizes on the opportunity to hear a great story from TyJo about interdepartmental conflict at the General Mills plant between the Rice Krispies and Rice Krispie Treat manufacturers (which is strange, because I’m pretty sure they’re made by Kellogg’s... lol).

Josh admits that the Mario Kart stuff was put into the show for two reasons- to show Tyler’s dominance at his favorite game and to give them a break after the ball run (which “kinda sucks”).

Tyler acknowledges that he probably should be grateful to the guy who stole his car radio, but just can’t bring himself to- that cost money.

Tyler and Josh get underwear gifts for their next Grammy- Tyler gets Pikachu, while Josh gets “a cat riding a unicorn in space firing a laser”.

Community Spotlight:

This week’s spotlight goes to Dana Greene, who has more claim to the title of Tru Fan than most. Dana was a concert photographer in Columbus who took tons of photos of the band at local gigs during the Self-Titled and Regional at Best eras. She took the above photo, which dedicated fans might recognize as the interior of the Regional CD case, and has been posting HD scans of a bunch of old photos that are sure to hit ya right in the feels on her Twitter. She also posted this sick video that shows us why Tyler started using that wood piano case for his keyboard... I’ll just leave it at that.

BLIND SPECULATION OF THE WEEK:

I already brought up the question of how Twenty One Pilots will put a pin on the Blurryface Era. I’m still hopeful for a surprise small show in Columbus, but they didn’t do any such thing for Vessel- the last show in 2014 was in Mexico City without any big party or anything. What they did do to cap off the album cycle, you’ll remember, is release the “Ode to Sleep” music video; if we’re getting anything to put Blurryface to sleep for awhile, I think it will come in that format. 

There were roughly three weeks between the first two installments of “Sleepers”; if that pattern continues, we’ll get acoustic covers of “Hometown”, “Not Today”, and “Goner” between now and mid-May, right before the summer festival season. Because they still have at least three more shows to play after that point, I’m betting Mark will throw together one more treat for us before we start getting stuff from the next album- here’s hoping it doesn’t have the same release date as “Ode to Sleep” and we don’t have to wait until 2018 to see it.

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[motherfuckingbrad]

ok sorry but i cant stop thinking about how this needs a semi part 2

because after troy gets to greendale, he thinks he will finally be able to express himself and be free. until the first day of spanish 101, when he walks in to find annie edison sitting in the front row, purposely avoiding his eyes, and he feels the wind get knocked out of him as he starts to realize he will never escape who he used to be. and he turns to leave because this is too much and his chest is tight and he can barely breathe now, but as he turns he smacks straight into a tall, skinny guy with curious eyes who promptly introduces himself as “hi im abed, do you play football or are you trying to fulfill the jock role in this classroom already?”. and the interaction takes troy by such surprise (he’d forgotten all about the letterman jacket he was wearing until that moment) that he feels calm enough now to just sit down and stop making such a scene. and he feels bad enough after class about leaving the weird guy hanging earlier, so when abed invites him to a study group, troy agrees to go. the anxiety comes back, of course, when he sits down at the study group table and annie is sitting just a few chairs away, so obviously his jock persona comes back in full force and troy lets himself hide behind it once again. but as the interaction carries on he finds his real personality slipping out just a little, and when no one reacts negatively or kicks him out for it, he lets it slip a little more often. as they continue to meet over the next few weeks he works on this slowly, and when he watches abed be weird openly and without shame, it makes him realize that being himself, tge authentic troy, will definitely not be the strangest thing this group sees. and as he hangs out with abed more and more he also learns how to be better, how to be more confident in who he is and how to not feel as much pressure to be the over masculine asshole that he was, because thats how jeff is and jeff is clearly far more miserable in life than abed. and he finds that being himself not only makes him feel better, but makes annie like him more and abed feel more comfortable around him, until troy is finally able to be completely himself at this school and feel loved for it. and yes, maybe he no longer talks to anyone from high school and maybe he lives away from his parents because he still feels their disappointment every time he goes home, but it no longer matters because for the first time ever, he likes who he is. and he stops pushing down all of his feelings so much that when he realizes he might not be straight, he feels comfortable enough in himself and his friends to come out. and when he realizes he loves abed maybe a little more than a friend, he feels safe to admit his crush to annie, and then britta, and finally abed, who has been waiting for those words longer than he can even tell troy. and when he gets the opportunity to sail around the world with levar burton he takes it, because hes no longer scared of being himself, but realizes theres still things he’d like to learn. and he knows for the first time ever that when he gets back, he’ll still have friends (and a boyfriend) waiting for him, because they dont need him to be active in their lives to love and care for him. being troy is enough.

thinking about high school troy today.

thinking about the little boy who loved football because it brought him closer to his favorite uncle. thinking about how when he realized he was good at it, that it made him popular, he loved it even more. thinking about how that love changed as he got older though, and it became less about the game and more about the chore of winning. thinking about how troy felt the weight of winning all on his shoulders, how it slowly took over his life until all he could think about was how if he lost too many times, he would be worthless and everyone would abandon him. thinking about how by senior year troy didn’t even feel like himself anymore, because he knew no one liked him for him, no one even really knew the real him, they just liked him when he would win games and keep his mouth shut. thinking about how when his uncle died, football didn’t even seem to have a point anymore, it didn’t make him happy, and it hadnt for a long time. thinking about how the pressure built until he couldn’t take it, and troy knew he couldn’t do this for another four years in college, but he still couldn’t tell anyone how he really felt in fear that they would hate him for throwing everything away, his family and friends and school and everyone. thinking about how he chose to hurt himself badly enough to be hospitalized rather than ever tell anyone how he really felt. and thinking about how even after it was all over, and the pressure of football was alleviated, troy still couldn’t be himself because people were already disappointed about the football thing, he didn’t need to make it worse. thinking about how he probably woke up every day hating himself, hating who he’d let himself become, until one day, after throwing a paper ball at some nerd in a frozen yogurt place and hating the way it made his friends laugh, he had enough. thinking about how he finally made that decision to change, and how that flyer for greendale community college seemed to be screaming at him now, as a place where no one would know him, and he could finally be himself, could finally be free.

basically im just thinking about how greendale community college saved troy barnes’ life. :,)

[torentialtribute]

Kepa Arrizabalaga says he’s learned from row with Maurizio Sarri

When Kepa Arrizabalaga reflects on his first season at Chelsea and the biggest difference between London and his life in the Basque Country, he reaches for the gloom.

"I am used to the rain," says Kepa. "It rains a lot in Bilbao so that hasn't been so bad but the biggest thing was in the winter when it gets dark so quickly."

He has welcomed the change in the seasons. Spring has enabled him to get outdoors and enjoy the fresh air. As a boy he would spend hours in the hills of northern Spain 'walking with the birds' and he is not the sort to stay cooped up for long.

Chelsea goalkeeper Kepa Arrizabalaga has had an eventful debut season in English football

The passing of winter has also helped to distance him from the storm which erupted in the Carabao Cup final against Manchester City at Wembley.

Ten weeks have passed since he was refused to be driven, driving manager Maurizio Sarri into a touchline craze and leaving veteran back-up goalkeeper Willy Caballero fuming quietly.

Kepa, 24, was fined by Chelsea and dropped for one game and statements were issued but at last he is able to reflect and put it down to his lack of experience

"It was news around the world," says Kepa with a slight shake of his head and a sheepish smile.

"People were talking about it and talking badly. It is normal for people to talk. My father spoke to me after when we were at home but he didn't need to say a lot to me. By then I realized what I had done and there was not a lot left to say.

'It was a difficult week. It happened on Sunday, on Wednesday I didn't play against Tottenham and then I was back to play against Fulham.

'I accepted what the manager said and the club fine and I realized I wouldn't play the next game. I was right behind Willy and supported him and the team as much as I could.

'Of course, that was the only thing I could do. It was something I did in the heat of the moment.

'It was a difficult moment which I learned from and I am still learning from. Now it's time for me to look forward.

'I said I was sorry. Football goes on. We all make mistakes. ”

The game was goalless and heading towards penalties when the Chelsea goalkeeper twice called for treatment for what Sarri thought was cramp.

The manager decided to replace him and prepared Caballero, but Kepa made it clear he wasn't injured and didn't want to come off ahead of the shootout.

After all, he had the hero against Tottenham in the semi-finals when he was saved from Lucas Moura in the same situation.

Only later did he realize how it all looked to those watching the final.

"The only thing I wanted to say was that I was not injured and I was OK to carry on," said Kepa. "I wasn't thinking about penalties.

" I wasn't totally aware of everything that had happened.

"It wasn't until I looked back for the first time at the images that I realized. I saw it from a different perspective. Until that point, it was like I was in a bubble and not conscious of what was going on.

'I started to see it all when I arrived home for the first time and saw the video.

'That was the first time I realized what happened. I've learned a lesson and the next time it will be different. When I am asked to change, I will change. "

KEPA CHAOS: FINAL FIASCO WHICH LEFT SARRI SEETHING

Kepa left boss Sarri furious when he refused to be delivered in the Carabao Cup final. He was then four times as Chelsea lost on penalties to Manchester City. Caballero, who has a great penalty record, might just have saved them.

The world's most expensive goalkeeper was born and raised in the Basque fishing village of Ondarroa, midway between Bilbao and San Sebastian.

He joined the celebrated academy or Athletic Club in Bilbao at the age of nine and would travel to training with four friends, who made the 45 -minute journey together to the Basque city up to four times a week

"My village was a mix of Athletic supporters and Real Sociedad supporters," says Kepa. 'People either support one or the other. I chose from an early age to support Athletic and that's where I started to play as a kid.

'So I'd make the journey to Bilbao with friends by bus or taxis because my father was working and the club would put on some transport.

"That's how it was until I grew older and moved through the different age groups.

" I don't think I had a future as a fisherman. If I wasn't a player I would have been working in something to do with sport, like a physio. I'd started a university course, training for a qualification in sports and fitness. "

His parents travel to London to see almost every home game.

" They are on the road, traveled a lot, he says. "It has been a big change for them, too, to have their son over here."

But the Spanish stopper has put February's mistake behind him and is back as the clubs No 1

Kepa played the traditional Basque sport or pelota when he was young and spent much or his spare time walking with his father, catching goldfinches to keep as cage birds.

At Chelsea, found out Paulo Ferreira, the former Portuguese full back who is now on the coaching staff, enjoyed to do the same when he was a child.

"It was allowed in those days," says Kepa. 'People would often keep birds in their home, at least one or two birds. My dad liked keeping them.

'I would go with him into the mountains. I've always liked to be one with nature. Being outdoors, walking and being with the birds. It's a healthy interest and hobby. Because of football, it's not something I can do as often as I used to. "

By the age of 16 he was involved with the Athletic first team, learning from coaches such as Marcelo Bielsa. He was an unused substitute for two La Liga matches in 2012 before spending 18 months on loan in the second tier with Ponferradina and Real Valladolid.

It was Ernesto Valverde, now Barcelona manager, who gave him his debut for Athletic against Deportivo La Coruna in September 2016, at the age of 21. The following year came his Spain debut against Costa Rica.

Kepa was in Frankfurt preparing for the first leg of Chelsea's Europe League semi-final when he heard the shocking news that Iker Casillas suffered a heart attack while training with Porto.

Kepa pictured applauding Chelsea fans in Germany on Thursday after a 1-1 draw with Frankfurt

"I hope it was nothing more serious than a scare and a warning," he says. 'I send him huge good wishes from here for a swift and full recovery. We play football but we are human beings and your personal health is the most important thing.

'I was coming through the youth ranks just at the time when Iker was at his peak. He was one of the best around and it was such a huge shock.

'I never really had one idol because there were several, I would study all goalkeepers: Victor Valdes, Casillas and Pepe Reina, Petr Cech. I would take little things I liked different keepers and try to incorporate them into my game, irrespective of whether they were top keepers or from a lower standard. "

Manchester United's David de Gea warned him what to expect when he arrived in England last summer after Chelsea agreed to pay £ 71million and gave him a seven-year contract.

"I spoke with The Gea many times in the national team," says Kepa, breaking into English. He arrived without speaking a word of it and admits he is not the most conscientious of students, but he is picking it up the language and promises to work harder at the next year.

'He told me the first season in England for him was difficult in every aspect, that's always quite tough. Change always takes a bit of time and effort. Change is always difficult. The style of football in the league is different to the football played in Spain.

'That's what I've noticed the most. It's more physical, the referees let a lot more go and allow a lot more contact here. Before I came here I would have my routine workout in the gym and a plan I followed. "I didn't have to change it greatly."

David de Kepa ahead of Spain's game with Switzerland last year

Kepa flexes his biceps and breaks into a grin. He is pleasant company with not a trace of the arrogance which was implied by his refusal to leave the Wembley pitch, which is destined to become the enduring image of his first season at Chelsea.

There is still time, however , to leave another mark on the season. Sarri's team are at home against Watford on Sunday as they try to secure fourth place in the Premier League and return to the Champions League next season.

There would also be another cup final on the horizon if they can finish the job against Eintracht Frankfurt on Thursday after the 1-1 draw in Germany this week.

"That is our target," says Kepa. 'To finish in the top four, reach the Europa League final and win a trophy. We know it's not easy but that would be a good first season.

'It's been great. It's a change, everything's different, a new country, a new league, a new team but it's given me a step forward in my career and that's why I have committed to sign for Chelsea for so many years.

'I am really happy with how things have started. I am trying to adapt and that is something I must continue to do. "

Kepa is supporting the Chelsea Foundation and the Asian Star event at Stamford Bridge on May 18. The free event is designed to give a much-needed boost to Asian participation in football with places still available for boys and girls aged nine to 12. Go to chelseafc.com .

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