#I found this one lovely reference photo of a couple slow dancing and it fit perfect to be pre war stucky I hope you like it :')

[seokiloquy]

Cross the Pacific - Sugawara & Oikawa

AU: Regular (Breakup + New boo)

Requested

Tags: GN!Reader, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol, time skip spoilers, and a lot of implied happenings 

Word Count: 6k+

The gym was loud, constantly being filled with the screams of boys running around the meshed fabric as they sent balls flying in every direction. Maybe a crude description despite your knowledge of the sport, but you thought it was fitting as you watched from the sidelines next to the silver setter with a bruised knuckle. 

The volleyball player winced, as you slowly moved the joint. You looked up to his panting figure, watching as he took back a large gulp of iced water with his head tilted back. A small bead of sweat trickled down the length of his neck, racing down to meet the collar of his white shirt, now turned a translucent grey in some spots from absorbing sweat off of his neck and face. You handed him a small towel, warmth dancing along your cheeks like pin needles, eager to hide the view from your sight.

With nimble fingers, you wrapped the swollen digit gently with medical tape, attaching it to the one next to it. “Koushi,” you sighed. “You’re meant to set the ball, not jab your finger into it.”

“I know, I know. I just messed up,” he laughed, giving his taped fingers a little wiggle as he removed them from your grip. “Have you heard anything from the universities yet?”

You shook your head, kissing your teeth to make a small tsk escape you as you packed up your small medkit. “Nothing. Those places don’t deserve me anyway, I’ve got bigger things coming my way. I just know it.” Despite your bravado, you could feel the small shake in your chest.

Koushi sent you a big grin, giving you a silent boost of confidence, before standing up. “You finished with the Med-club, right? I hope I didn’t pull you out too early.”

“We finished up early today, so don’t worry.” With a big swing of your bag, you got to your feet. “I’m gonna head home, okay?”

“(L/N)!” You heard Hinata call from the other end of the gym. “Come join us and play for a bit! Your boyfriend can teach you some more!” He bargained, desperately hoping you could stay longer in case a ball found his nose to be an attractive place to slam into. Though, he would never say that out loud, too prideful and easily picked on for that.

“No can do, Hinata,” you laughed, making him pout and let his shoulders fall with the weight of his arms. You turned to look at Koushi again, enjoying the practice of looking into the dark olive-green colour of his eyes.

“Do you want me to walk you? It’s getting kind of late,” he asked following your footsteps to the metal doors, ignoring the yells of his younger teammates calling for him to return.

You zipped up your large coat, preparing for the cold outside that would surely try to bite at any uncovered skin. Rising onto your toes, you pecked the small mole that delicately sat next to his eye. “I’ll be fine, Koushi,” You replied, stepping out onto the concrete stairs. “Love you.”

“Love you too, get home safe.”

Your breath wavered as you opened the email that waited in your inbox.

It was early in the morning, maybe around 6 am, the rest of your family was still asleep and you were quivering in your desk chair trying to build up the courage of opening the blasted email that waited in your inbox. Your mouth felt grimy, still sour from just waking up. You grimaced, wincing at the sunlight that decided to peek out from behind the clouds and pierce your eyes.

Weaving your fingers together, you brought the bridge of your nose, right between the brow, to rest against them. You took in a deep breath, feeling your heart trying to rip it’s way out through your sternum. This moment could be the beginning or end of your career. 

As you moved the cursor to sit above the email, you spared a glance at the delicately hung photo on the wall behind your monitor. The tape had held on strong for the last couple of years. Koushi told you that ‘it wouldn’t last’ when you first stuck it up. The clear tape hasn’t given up yet. Your mom thinks it’s a good omen. You just think she spends too much time looking at horoscopes on Facebook. Either way, you thought it was a good sign.

Huffing out a shaky breath, you looked back at the hidden message and clicked it open. 

The first line, then the next, then you skipped over the rest, not needing to see much more than that.

You pushed out of your chair, nearly falling to the floor of your bedroom because of your shaking knees. The fluid in your head seemed to splash up against the side of your skull and your stomach clenched in on itself, suddenly in need of food. The floor seemed much more welcoming now than a moment ago.

Softly, you dropped to your knees and let your body flatten against the cool hardwood floor. You breathed deeply, letting the cold air calm your nerves and slow down the rushing blood in your veins. You smiled, pushing your nose into the plush carpet at the foot of your bed.

“I did it. I fucking did it.”

In the hours it took for your parents to wake up, you were at your computer. The steps you had to follow were simple enough. Contact your guidance counsellor, fill in a few documents, and finally, say yes. Your hands shook the entire time.

You were in the kitchen, chugging back a large glass of water when you told your mom. She nearly broke your glass in the process of yanking you into a bone-crushing hug that made you choke.

“(Y/N). Argentina, are you kidding? You better not be lying to me or else I’m gonna cry.”

“You’re already crying. Now please, I can’t breathe here.”

She reluctantly drops her hands, turning toward the refrigerator to pull out a small tupperware container filled with leftovers you didn’t know you had. “So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Well, I have a few months before I leave. But I’m gonna search for an apartment, see if there are any part-time jobs I can apply for to get some extra money, apply for a Visa. I’ll even do some language courses before I go. I—”

“(Y/N),” she interjected, taking a seat at the kitchen counter. “What about Koushi?”

You paused, letting the cold air run over your shoulders as the sudden realization of the situation made itself known at the front of your mind. “Oh, right. Well, I only plan to be there for a year, then I can come back and do university here right? Koushi will get it, he’ll understand.”

He did not understand.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You said you were going to go to Miyagi U.”

Maybe your timing was wrong. It probably would have been better to tell him after his volleyball practice when he was tired. You bounced on your toes excitedly, letting out a tiny whine as you waited for him to slow the sound of his rattling to a stop.

“I said I would apply, and I did. But unlike you, Mr. Smarty Pants, I haven’t heard from them, but I have heard from that apprenticeship in San Juan. And I want to go.”

It was cold out, the late-February wind decided today would be perfect for freezing winds. You shivered in your coat, desperately wanting to join the rest of his team inside the warm gym. You kicked your feet in the dusty snow of the ground.

Koushi shut his eyes tightly, making his nose scrunch as he bit his lip. Twitching fingers moved against his arms before finding home in his elbows. He sighed. “But what’s wrong with staying here?”

You jumped. “Nothing, Koushi. You know there’s nothing wrong here, you must know that. It’s not like I’ll be gone forever. Just a year to get some experience, and then I’ll be back before you know it.” Your voice seemed to shake, and you desperately hoped it was from the cold.

He exhaled slowly, head down and eyes staring between the metal doors of the boy’s gym. His voice was dulled, flattened, so tired. He didn’t meet your gaze, letting you stare at his silver hair for a couple of unbearable seconds.

“Koushi, aren’t you happy for me?”

“I am happy for you, (Y/N),” he said, continuing to stare through the doors. “I just— I’ll talk to you later.”

You watched silently as he walked up the concrete steps of the gym. The burning in your chest grew as he began to push the door further open, not sparing a glance over his shoulder.

“I love you, Koushi.”

There was no response as the doors shut behind him.

“Daichi,” you panted out from the gym doorway. “Is he gone?”

The following weeks until the end of the school year left radio silence between you and Koushi. You never found him in the hallways, or his classrooms before lunch, he even seemed to leave volleyball practice before club times were over. If hurt less than you thought it would, but the ‘later’ he referred to that day seemed to never come.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he replied, dropping his gaze to the wood floor.

The sad stares of the boy’s volleyball team dug into your skin like dull knives. Your feet suddenly seemed a lot more interesting of a sight.

You sighed, “Don’t apologize. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

That walk home felt worse than the last.

You wanted nothing more to slump into your bed, ignoring the final assignments that you still had neglected to hand in. Before you on the computer’s monitor was one of these assignments, slowly printing out as you dug your forehead into the hardwood of your desk. With closed eyes, you listened to the whirring of the machine as the loose pieces of paper slowly poured out of the machine. Something fell onto the table. A small, stiff object that seemed to flutter before hitting the hard table.

Lifting your head you looked up to your wall. Right there. You held your breath as you looked at the lonely piece of tape that stuck to the wall. Quickly rising to your feet, your eye darted to the surface of your desk below the offending tack on the wall. Facedown, in a pile of wires that trailed to your computer, was the photograph. You delicately picked up the polaroid, inspecting the bent corner. 

Sighing, you ran to your closet, pulling out an old brown box from the top shelf and throwing it onto your bed.

The next couple of hours were filled with frustrated groans and rustling of clothes as they were torn off their racks and into the dusty box. Various photos and decorations were torn off your walls and added to the sad pile with one last sigh. You ripped the necklace that sat at the collar bone of your neck, wrapping it around the small polaroid and setting it on top of the boxed pile.

You could feel your throat clamp closed as you tried to breathe in slowly. The sleeves of your sweater felt ruff against your puffy eyes. You choked.

“(Y/N), is something wrong?” Your mom peaked in through the crack in the doors opening, brows pinching together.

A cold breath escaped your tired lungs as you turned to face her. “Ya, everything’s fine. Hey, could you maybe help me book my flight?”

The corners of her lips were still pulled downwards, concern evident, but she tried her best to give you a happy smile. It just couldn’t reach her eyes. “Of course.”

Cloaked in black, you watched your graduating class pour out of the school doors in waves, each one happily carrying their protected diplomas in the palm of their hands. You gave them smiles as they walked by. From the driver's seat, your mom watched you through an open window, occasionally looking back to read the diploma in her hands.

“Are you sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?” She asked, poking her head out.

You gripped the sides of the box tighter. “I may not want to, but I haven’t been given a choice in the matter.”

She let out a sad sigh, “There’s always a choice.”

“Not this time. Sugawara hasn’t given me the luxury.”

For him to walk out of the school doors with a bright smile of his face was a punch to the face, breaking your nose. The trio of boys laughed happily as they swung their diploma filled hands in the air. Your knees shook as you waited for them to come closer to the exit. 

You don’t know who saw you first, but within a matter of seconds, your mother pulled the car up the road and you were face to face with the silver-haired boy. 

Swallowing the frog in your throat, you pushed the heavy old box into his chest, smudging a bit of dust onto his black uniform.

“What’s all this?” he asked, raising a brow teasingly.

You tried not to scoff, “It’s not a present if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Propping it onto his knee, Sugawara flipped up the lid of the box, peering inside. His brow changed, pushing to meet in the center of his face. Dropping the lid, he continued to hold the fuddled expression as he looked at you. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“More like finalizing what you started,” you pushed out quietly.

“(Y/N), please, you can’t just—”

“Just what?” you asked, pushing yourself to speak louder as you met his eyes. “Just cut you off after not seeing you for weeks? I didn’t even know if your injury healed!” you stopped, breathing slowly as you tried your best to calm the vibrating nerves in your body. “I don’t know what you were expecting, but if it wasn’t this, you’re an imbecile.”

He tipped the box open again, taking hold of something from the top. “I didn’t think—”

“Obviously,” you huffed hastily. “Look, I’ve got to go. I have somewhere to be.” You stepped back slowly, suddenly finding the view of your mom’s car much more interesting.

The space between you felt larger than it has been in weeks despite being only an arm's reach away. You breathed in deeply. You spun on your heel, turning to the old car, only to be stopped by the dusty box pressing into your stomach as Sugawara rushed to block off your path.

“Where are you going? We still need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing more to say. Now please, I need to go.” You tried to walk around, but he quickly sidestepped in your way.

“Where?”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I have a plane to catch.”

He pushed forward, head falling over the box as he tried to get closer. “A plane? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“How was I supposed to, huh?” you screeched. “I saw no hide nor hair from you for weeks, and you expect me to tell you I’m leaving when you’re the one that was purposefully avoiding me?!” 

You could feel the stares of your school mates as they slowly walked past like traffic around a car accident. The anger that was bubbling in your stomach was overflowing so much that you thought you were going to puke. Despite everything in your body telling you not to, you continued. 

“You just ghosted me, even worse, you cut me off. Not once did you try to reach out, or talk to me, you never told me your qualms or worries. I would’ve listened.” The tears that poured down your face only stung the wound more. “But, you didn’t tell me anything. So I’m leaving. You have no say in that anymore, not now.”

“(Y/N), I—”

“Bye, Sugawara.”

This time, as you bent your body around his to continue down the sidewalk, he didn’t stop you.

Once in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, you pushed your head back into the plush seat and closed your eyes, letting all the air in your lungs slowly roll off your tongue. The blood in your head throbbed loudly, making your ears hurt. You pushed back the seat, lying as flat as you could with the suitcases that were propped behind it. A sniffle escaped.

Foot pressing on the gas, your mom gave you a pitiful look from the corner of her eye, before shooting her gaze back to the road as she has been for the past number of stifling minutes. Reaching over, she knocked your arm off of your eyes. “I know, I know. But you can sleep on the plane,” she paused for a moment, “How are you feeling?”

You swallowed harshly, “Like a demon decided to make home in my brain and eats its way to my heart.” Turning your head you gave your mom a sad grin, “I’m naming it Baloo.”

She laughed.

Economy seating, though often cramped, wasn’t so bad if you weren’t in front of a crying kid, or next to someone who’s body odour overpowered the strength altitude had on your senses. Luckily, you got neither of them. Instead next to you sat a boy who didn’t pack his headset in his carryon. 

You desperately wanted to sleep off all the sourness and pain in your eyes, but the gentle sound coming out of his computer kept you awake. Through narrowed eyes, you shifted your head to watch his frozen profile stare into the bright screen in front of him and the video that played quietly among the silent passengers.

His sweater was a dull, soft yellow, colour faded after years of being worn casually. His fingers held the ends of the sleeves, covering the palms of his hands. He didn’t blink, eyes shot frozen in a wide position, letting in as much light as possible

“I hate to interrupt, but don’t you think you should sleep at some point?” you whispered near his shoulder.

His warm brown eyes turned to meet your suspicious gaze with a shocked expression pulling at the edges, his lips pursed together. “If I sleep now, I’ll be sleeping throughout the day in Argentina. Did I wake you? I can turn it down if you’d like.”

You shook your head, arching off the plush chair to let your elbow push into the armrest between you, accidentally bumping shoulders along the way. “It’s alright,” you said, rubbing the long since dried tears from your eyes, “couldn’t sleep anyway. Is that the San Juan team?” You asked, nodding your head in the direction of the video playing on his laptop.

“Oh, ya. It is,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “Do you know anything about volleyball?” he asked, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead. 

You nodded keeping your eyes trained on the setters that stood in the center of the plays. “I know more than I’d like to admit.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excitement pouring through his words. “Well, I’m trying out for their team, so I want to see how they play a bit more before the tryout.” He turned to face you. “You look surprised.”

“Huh, oh,” you laughed, trying not to bite your lip. “It’s just an unlikely coincidence.”

He gave you a teasing smirk, pushing his elbow to rest behind yours on the plastic armrest. “How so?”

You gulped, tempted to lean away from his curious posture. The words escaped you in a hesitant but excited nature, “I just so happen to have an apprenticeship with their medical team.”

A large smile broke out onto his cheeks, nearly letting his words fall out in a tumbling yell. “Really? Then we’ll be seeing each other a lot more then. That’s awesome.”

“If you get on the team.”

He scoffed, “Oh, I’ll get on. Just watch me.”

“Then you’ll be getting injured a lot, I presume.”

The 24-hour plane ride continued smoothly. Filled with small, excited conversations in between and slightly awkward awakens on the other’s shoulder after short naps. All while suspended in the air over a large body of water. 

Talks about your schools and friends ran smoothly until he brought up the discoloured skin around your eyes. But, despite your apprehension, he safely maneuvered around the topic, not letting your conversation slip into an uneasy, awkward, silence. The food was tasteless, but filling, giving you both a laugh and another conversation starter, which he listened to intently, watching you ramble over how the altitude changes your ability to smell and taste. And you reciprocated when the topic of family came up and he took the opportunity to gush over his young nephew. It was nice. Very nice.

“Do you have an apartment set up near the sports centre?” he asked with a loud yawn, as you stood next to each other in the crowd, waiting for your luggage to slowly slide onto the conveyor belt. He brushed his gently swooping hair back.

You blinked slowly, desperately trying to not rub your tired eye sockets as you pulled one of your suitcases off the moving machine before it ran away. “I, ugh, was sort of in a rush to get out of Miyagi. I sort of overlooked finding a place to live,” you let out a sad, self-deprecating chortle. “I fucked up, I’m a fuck up. Fuck. I’ll just live on a park bench.”

Your new friend let out a sharp and heavy laugh, relying on his blue suitcase to carry his weight.

“You can stop laughing, I’m being serious.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I already have an apartment waiting to accommodate my tired ass. You can stay with me. We can live more frugally. You only plan on being here for a year right?”

You sighed, giving in and using the back of your wrist to rub your eyes. “That was the plan. But,” you paused, looking at the contact information on our suitcase for a moment. “I’m not sure if I have much to go back to now.”

You could feel the combination of heartache and exhaustion weighing down on our shoulder after hours not being able to cope with your new relationship status. A yawn tore its way out of you.

“Well,” He began. “Maybe, you’ll find something to stay for. Now come on,” He said, offering you a cluttered elbow to hook your bag covered arm into, “We’ve got an apartment to fill.”

Sugawara sat in the center of his small on-campus residence flipping through the various textbooks that stacked on top of each other across his small desk. His head pounded at the temples as he searched for a key sticky note he had left somewhere in the many pages. The old box laid untouched at the end of his dorm bed next to Sawamura, who for once, seemed uncaring of his friend’s personal space.

“What are you gonna do with all this stuff anyway?” he asked, lifting one of Sugawara’s worn out sweaters from the pile.

“Well, half of it was originally mine, so I guess I need to keep it. But can you not go through that stuff, I can’t stand to look at it,” the leaner, stressed man snapped over his shoulder at his friend who worked on folding the wrinkled clothes that he pulled from the offending box.

Sawamura sighed, “Dude. I hate to say it, but it’s been months. You’re going to have to face it eventually, and the best way to start is to go through this box.” With a satisfied huff, he dropped it onto the floor.

“Daichi,” Sugawara drawled, spinning in his chair, swinging an arm over the back, to look at the cardboard on the floor. “(Y/N)’s going to be stuck here with me forever, I can’t change that. How am I supposed to just toss it away? I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Sawamura dragged his fingernails over his scalp, looking up at his long time friend from his haunched position. He wanted to look away as soon as the words came out of his mouth, not bearing the sight of his torn friend’s expression. “Koushi,” he said. “You already have.”

“Oikawa, one of these days you’re going to get a knee replacement I swear.”

The setter rested along the length of the black faux-leather couch that was pushed against the wall of your living room, leg propped up on a large pillow as he scrolled through the various cable networks that played Spanish soap operas more often than the news. He let out a childish whine, followed by a laugh.

“It won’t ever come to that, (Y/N). After all,” he sent you a flirtatious smile. “You’re my personal doctor.”

You scoffed, dropping a fresh ice pack onto his knee, making him yelp at the sudden temperature change. “I’m not your personal anything dumbass.”

“Are you sure about that?” he dropped the remote onto the short table next to him, finally settling on a show that had English subtitles running along the bottom of the large screen attached to the wall.

“You’re right. I’m your babysitter,” you teased, hopping away from the couch toward the kitchen.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to follow you toward the marble counters.

“No Moving, Oikawa!”

Huffing, he crossed his arms and fell back onto the couch, pouting up to the tv. You watched his childish tantrum fizzle out as you filled up two glasses with water. It was hot out. The both of you were in loose shorts and t-shirts, desperate to get as much heat off your bodies as possible. Oikawa waited for you to come back with the cold peace offering before speaking again.

“When are you gonna call me ‘Tooru’? I want to hear you say it before you leave Argentina and go back to Japan. Can’t you grant me that wish?” he pleaded, nursing his cold glass in the palms of his hands, before setting it on the table next to yours.

You settled into the open space his feet left at the end of the plush couch, trying not to shift his injured leg too much. He responded to your silence by kicking his other leg over your lap, making you look at him, unamused. He prodded for an answer.

A sigh escaped you involuntarily as you stared off into the white wall of your shared apartment. “What if,” you pondered, breathing in slowly with a quiet voice. “What if I don’t leave? What would you want then?”

Months turned nearly a year of living together and working in close quarters had somehow turned the most wretched day of your life into a jumble of colours you could never begin to describe. Months of thinking about your next steps, reflecting over past mistakes, and dreaming of the possibilities of what could lay open, uncovered in the white wall of this apartment. You didn’t know what you were going to do come the date of your planned return to Japan, but you did know what you wanted here.

You slowly turned your dazed eyes over to the injured setter that sat next to you, the earnest emotion in his eyes rolled into you, not letting you look away or blink.

His hand came to wrap around your arm as he shifted as close as he could without bending his knee. The hand then slowly trailed down to hold yours. He never broke eye contact for even a second. Your free hand came to grip the hem of his shirt tightly, knuckles brushing over the taut skin above his hip bone.

“If you decided to stay, would you let me be a little selfish?” His voice was barely over a whisper, breath smoothly mingling with your own. So gentle that it would have been difficult to hear over the tv if you were even an inch farther away. 

“Tooru—”

“What?!” the younger man screamed, grabbing the attention of the other diners that were eating in the small bar/restaurant. Making them all glare at his copperhead for interrupting their meals.

“Four years and you’re as loud as ever. Would you calm down for once? Yes, okay? I am, we are,” Oikawa huffed, waving the younger man down as he desperately tried the more than spiteful looks that were sent their way.

“I haven’t seen (L/N) in forever. I didn’t think I’d see them again.”

The two men sat in a small seaside restaurant with a view of the beach right outside the large open windows, both tired from a day of playing in the sand with a couple of competitive strangers. The city was still alive hours after the sun had set. People were out at parties, drinking wine in fancy restaurants, or dancing to music that blared over the loudspeakers in the more populated streets.

Hinata slowly lowered himself back into the wooden chair, hopping slightly to get it tucked underneath the table again. With raised brows and pinched lips, the carrot top shifted his elbows onto either side of his near-empty plate, watching with wrapped attention as Oikawa took a bite from the large steak that sat on the porcelain platter.

“Well, since you're in Brazil, why don’t you join? We can probably even sneak in a game at the beach afterwards,” he said with a hand over his mouth as he chewed away at the juicy slab of meat. “We just can’t let (Y/N) know.”

“Are you sure you want me there?” Hinata asked as he set his glass of water down. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“It’s gonna be a small event and reception, so there won’t be a lot of people, and you’ll meet my teammates. Besides,” Oikawa gave the eager volleyball player a gentle smile. “I think it would be nice for both of us to have another old friend around.”

“Everyone’s gonna be speaking Spanish and English though,” Hinata slumped into his chair, grimace pulling at the edge of his lips. “I can understand some English, sure, but who would I talk to? The two of you will be busy the whole time.”

Oikawa spun the last bit of water in his glass slowly. “Don’t worry about that, our families are flying in and so is Iwaizumi. So there will be more than a few Japanese speakers there.”

Hinata sat straighter in his seat, shoulder pushing up to his ears as a large smile pulled at tanned cheeks. “Ooh? Really!” his voice rose, grabbing the attention of the irked customers around them. He lowered his voice, immediately noticing the glares sent his way. “I’d love to play a game with him too.” He paused briefly. “But Oikawa.”

“Hmmm, What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a suit.”

The screams of the hundreds of people in the stadium poured over everyone’s heads into the lower floor where the game would take place. It was wild. People from around the globe sat in the rows of plastic chairs, yelling over each other as they tried to make their words heard. From the main halls, Sugawara stood with his long time friends, sipping away at a customary plastic cup of beer, listening to the roars of opposing fans scream their chants at each other.

“This is so crazy, isn’t it? People we knew and played with, are going to be on the big stage for the whole world to see,” Sawamura let out in a large breath of air. “We played with some insane kids.”

Sugawara laughed, dropping his cup toward his waist. “We sure did.”

“I can’t imagine being on that court. The thought alone gives me shivers,” Asahi chipped in with a shudder.

The three slowly began to make their way through the large crowds towards their designated seats near Japan’s cheer squad. Daichi shifted his shoulders as he walked past an unwavering group that wouldn’t move. “We’re all going to the meetup later, right?”

The meetup. Sugawara was excited to see his old teammates and rivals again, though he was certain that the night would more than likely be filled with incoherent shouting matches over a hefty dinner made of mostly protein. He was right of course. About the large meals and loud yelling with a side of alcohol.

But he didn’t expect to see you waltz in, arm in arm with the infamous Oikawa Tooru, with an Argentine officials uniform pulled fittingly onto your arms.

He spent the whole night trying to get your attention to turn his way, but you seemed to be enraptured with the conversation you held with his previous underclassmen. Hinata especially seemed to be excited to talk to you. 

So he settled with watching from afar. Letting the sight of the warmly lit environment make your skin let off a healthy glow. Those hours away from you, out of reach but in his sights, made that old wound reopen in his chest. Letting his spine curl into the wooden backrest of the chair he occupied.

“(L/N),” he said, finally able to pull you away from the brunet’s side and brush off Sawamura’s pestering. “How— how have you been? I haven’t seen you since…” his voice tapered off, suddenly realizing the situation that the little bit of liquid courage has put him into.

You gave him a large smile, maybe a bit guilty, but large nonetheless. “Ya. It sure has been. That’s my fault though, I ended up staying in Argentina. Not my original plan, but it just sort of happened.” Your voice raised at the end, almost as if you sounded embarrassed. The glass of water in your hand was quickly held up to your mouth.

“Well, it’s nice to have you back. Maybe we can—”

“Eh, look who it is. Karasuno’s designated pretty setter.” Oikawa, the man that had been glued to your side all night, rarely ever lifting the arm that once again was attached to the length of your shoulders. “How have you been, Mr. Refreshing?”

“I’ve been good. I started working at an elementary school.”

“Really?” you piped. A smile pulled your features as if you had just seen the more endearing thing. “That’s amazing, Sugawara, you’ve always liked kids.”

“Ya, I’m—”

“Oikawas!” The younger, redheaded man was at it again, yelling over the bustling crowd that filled the restaurant as he tried to run over.

Sugawara sighed, shaking his head at Hinata’s antics to grab the other player’s attention. He was about to yell at him to settle down before it occurred to him, successfully being the third person to cut himself off within the five-minute conversation. His brow furrowed and cheeks flushed, turning his head to look at the muscular arm that draped across your shoulders. He gulped.

“Oikawas?” he emphasized, successfully pulling your attention back to his confused gaze.

Biting your lip, you gave him a nervous smile.

In a single moment, the sound of the people around him washed away into a throbbing silence. His smile dropped and his eyes began to widen. The sight of the two people before him began to wash away all other distractions like tunnel vision. Whether it was the alcohol in his system, or his social battery running low, it didn’t matter. The image was unmistakable and the recognition in his eyes told you that. 

Delicately wrapped around the fourth finger of your hand, on the hands of the two people before him, were perfectly polished gold bands.

I’ll be honest. This was like 2 sentences off from including smut…. I don’t write smut sooooo, Sorry buds - Bacon

Posted: 27/08/2020

#haikyuu x reader #sugawara koushi #oikawa tooru #sugawara x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu aus #x reader #reader insert #oneshots #haikyuu oneshot #oneshot #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga #the fact that i was on the verge of writing smut astounds me #like who do i think i am #I HAD TO CUT MYSELF OFF IF YOU DIDN'T NOTICE

[takemedancingmaine]

Home

The sun was still warm as it sank lower and lower toward the horizon, and the festivities were only just beginning. The candles were lit, the string lights glowing softly as twilight snuck upon us, and there was music already playing when we stepped through the doorway to the barn. 

Mehar and Andy were beside me, my sister’s eyes light with wonder as she took in the scene before her. Her maroon dress matched Andy’s pocket square, tie, and socks, as she'd pointed out to me four times already today. Andy took it in stride though, went along with it all and even seemed to be enjoying himself.

The ceremony had been filled with humor and love; Liam had done the officiating. Harry had cried, but then again, every single one of us expected him to. It was considerably warm for October, and the outside wedding had gone off without a hitch.

It was a miracle the Cubs weren’t playing tonight, otherwise, we would have had to have set up a TV somewhere so we could all watch while we danced. We got lucky; they were playing the next night. 

“Are you going to be boring and dance by yourself?” Mehar asked.

I rolled my eyes. She wasn't being subtle at all. It was not as if subtlety was a strong suit of Mehar’s to begin with, but it appeared as if she abandoned it entirely today. Many times in the span of a few hours my sister had commented on the fact that Niall looked rather handsome today in his navy suit and royal blue dress shirt. It did bring out his eyes, and she was right that he was handsome, but for five months now Niall and I have operated as simply friends and it's worked out really well. We were both really happy with our current normal.

“Drop it,” I chuckled at the face she made. “Let's get drinks and find Louis and the others.”

Andy’s cheeks turned pink at the mention of Louis. “Oh, you mean the man that isn't me that my girlfriend is casually in love with?” Andy hadn't met Louis yet, not officially even though they'd seen each earlier today, but he did know about her old crush and would join me in my teasing whenever he could.

I laughed and Mehar smacked me lightly on the arm. “I am not in love with Louis,” she told us both.

“Thou doth protest too much,” I continued through my giggles. Andy worked hard on not laughing, but a few chuckles left him when Mehar attempted to glare at us. Andy and I had gotten close over the last few months. He'd called me while he was preparing for my sister’s birthday, asking if we had any traditions, what kind of sweets she liked, and what he thought I considered the best plan of action. He even FaceTimed me when she opened the gift I'd sent him to give to her during the scavenger hunt he had set up. Since then, he'd send me the occasional meme or photo of my sister cooking or hiking or even kayaking. He was a good guy, and I could see how despite being completely different people he and Mehar fit together.

“Are we getting drunk tonight or what?” Cleo asked as we strolled up to her where she was at the bar with Liam. “Our lovely couple has decided to bestow upon us the gift of an open bar. Well, Ana’s parents have. It counts.”

“Have you dipped your toes in already?” Mehar asked, gauging my friends with a knowing smile on her face.

“Liam here brought his flask.” Cleo patted Liam’s chest and we could hear her rings clink against the metal flask in his sport coat pocket through the material.

“We may have had a few sips already,” Liam informed us.

“When? You were beside you the whole ceremony,” I gasped at Cleo. “And you were literally standing in everyone's focus!” I pointed at Liam, my eyes wide.

“Before,” Liam’s face was slightly flushed, “and after while everyone was walking over here.”

“You idiot. You were drunk when you were officiating our friend's wedding?”

“Buzzed at most.” Liam seemed unaffected and shrugged with a wide smile. Cleo giggled beside him.

I smirked and shook my head before I caught the bartender's attention, ordering for myself Mehar and Andy. I handed back the whiskey sour to Andy and the Prosecco to Mehar before I got my craft beer and took a sip.

“Is four drink Ruby going to come out to play tonight?” Louis came up behind us, Niall beside him, both men smiling wide.

“She might.” I shrugged. “My friends got married today and my boss gave me a three day weekend so who knows what might happen.”

Louis smiled and pulled me into a hug. “What a generous boss you have,” he said before kissing my head and disentangling from me to order a drink for himself. I caught Andy’s eye as he took in Louis and then raised his eyebrows at my sister, a smirk pulling on his lips.

“I, for one, am stoked about the possibility of meeting four drink Ruby,” Liam said, pulling my attention.

“Let’s just go find some seats,” I said. “They'll probably be coming in soon to do their first dance and I don't want Cleo stealing their thunder.”

“Why me?”

“Out of the seven of us, you'd have the best shot at being a crowd pleaser.”

“Fair assessment.” She smiled wide.

“Couldn't help but notice you're drinking a beer,” Niall said to me as Louis turned and handed him a dark beer of his own and we started our way over to find a table for ourselves.

“Do you remember that one pizza place we went to that had a wall of specialty taps?” I asked. That was back when we were together; it had been just the two of us. It wasn't awkward to bring up anymore. It had seemed like it might be at first, whenever one of us brought up things we'd done or places we used to go, but it wasn't.

“Where you had that dark chocolate orange stout?” Of course he remembered. I wouldn't shut up about it for months.

“The very same.”

“They got that for you?”

“Well, Harry and Ana are wine drinkers, so they did that selection themselves and then let Liam choose the beer and he refused to incorporate any boring beer, so there's this, your Guinness, a mixed berry sour, an IPA for himself, and something lighter from Belgium.”

“Remind me to thank Liam,” Niall said, taking a generous sip of Guinness before he took a seat beside me as we found an empty table for the group. Mehar sat on my other side, trying to be casual about observing Andy and Louis having a conversation while they took their seats as well. The two of them seemed to be getting along well so far.

“I will whenever we get him back.” I shook my head at the fact that someone had stopped Liam on his way over to tell them how much they loved the ceremony and how well he had done with it. 

“He's loving this attention,” Cleo said as she plopped down one seat away from Niall, saving a space for Liam.

“He probably thinks this whole day is about him,” Niall agreed.

“Look at him,” Cleo pointed, “working the crowd and attempting to look humble about it. He's a natural born super star. He knows exactly what he's doing.”

I laughed. 

“His head is going to be massive by the time this night is over. He might just float away from all that hot air. Someone should go get some twine or ribbons so we can tie him down.”

That got Niall laughing too, that contagious laugh of his with his head falling back and the sound echoing in the rafters of the barn around us. We could tease our friends better than the best of them, and Liam knew we meant it endearingly. Or at least he would know if he could hear us.

“All I’m saying,” Louis leaned over and whispered to me not so quietly while we watched Mehar and Andy dance goofily together, “is that he seems like a good kid. He seems to bring a lot out in her.”

“I have a feeling she brings a lot out in him as well,” I conspired right back. “He looks at her like she hung the moon.”

“It’s what she deserves.”

“It is.”

We sat there in silence for another minute or so and when a slow song came on I looked over at Louis and grabbed his wrist. “C’mon. We’re dancing.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded seriously and let me drag him out to the dance floor where we found ourselves wedged between Liam and Cleo and my sister and Andy. Harry and Ana were wrapped up in each other on the other side of the dance floor, her head on Harry’s chest as they swayed back and forth together.

It had been a long, almost exhausting night of dancing at this point. After the speeches and the food and the many, many drinks our feet began to hurt, our legs began to grow tired, and we’d all just settled into the winding down of the night. For my own part, my shoes were off and I was barefoot standing on Louis’ feet as he took point and moved us slowly back and forth. 

“Hard to believe it’s been a year since Niall’s been back in my life,” Louis said now. “I cannot believe it’s been over a year since Harry proposed, or since your incident, since you got Moggy... “ Louis sighed and I pulled my head back just far enough to meet his eyes. 

“Are you getting all sappy on me, Tomlinson?” I smirked as he glared down at me, but there was no malice in his eyes. “Weddings make you sappy. Good to know for future reference.”

He snorted. “I have three sisters,” he grumbled. “Of course weddings make me sappy. Do you think I’m not in my head right now thinking about the day when I have to give each of them away in turn? Just the thought itself is going to make me vomit.” 

“Okay.” I nodded. “Well, could you give me fair warning before that happens so that I can step back and get safely out of the splash zone?” 

I felt him laughing rather than heard it and then felt him shaking his head. “You’re a piece of work, Rubes.” The amusement was clear in his tone.

“I’m your piece of work,” I told him. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“Hey mate. D’you mind if I cut in?” 

Louis looked down at me rather than at Niall and I gave him a subtle nod before he looked up and smiled. “Of course,” he said. “I was just about to go get the sparklers ready anyway. I think it’s about time we send those two off.”

“Thanks, Louis.” Louis stepped back from me and before heading off he leaned down to kiss my head.

“I love you, Rubes,” Louis whispered in my ear and then he stepped away and turned toward where I knew he had stashed the farewell supplies earlier in the day. Why the lot of us had decided that Louis would be the one in charge of the lighters and the sparklers I will never know, but it was something we had all unanimously agreed upon.

“You look sleepy,” was all I could think to say as Niall stepped up and wrapped his arms around me, waiting patiently while I stepped onto his feet and wrapped my own arms around him.

“I would say so do you,” he smiled down at me, “but my dad raised me better than that, and I don’t have a death wish.”

“Good call, Horan.” I reached up and ruffled his hair a bit–not that it wasn’t already messed up from dancing all evening. I took a deep breath and the familiar smell of him comforted me as we swayed back and forth slowly.

It was odd, being this close to him again. We’d hugged countless times and he’d given me many piggyback rides since we’d agreed to be friends again. We’d even squished up against each other while ride-sharing and there was the time we got stuck on a particularly crowded, slow train for an hour and a half together. 

This though felt different. 

This was reminiscent of what we used to have, almost a year ago. Felt like one of the many times we’d danced around his kitchen after cooking dinner together or like when he took me out to the beach late one night and we danced barefoot on the sand despite the frigid temperatures. It felt like ‘us’ back when there was an ‘us.’

It felt like I was dancing with a ghost. 

“Does this feel weird to you, too?” He asked suddenly. He laughed it off, but I could sense his nerves. I knew him well enough. 

“I was just thinking that,” I agreed. We kept moving though, neither of us pulling back from the other. I settled into him, my head against his chest, his heartbeat thrumming in my ear as his hand drew circles on my back.

“Mehar thinks you looked very handsome today,” I said finally. “She said that your shirt brought out your eyes. I think it was all some ploy to make Andy jealous, but that’s just me.” 

“Mmm,” he hummed. “That was the plan. I know my assets, Singh. I have to work with what little I’ve got. Blue eyes are one of my few traits I can flaunt.” I snorted. “You look stunning,” he added.

This time I stayed silent, biting my lip, forcing back whatever was about to come out, a bit unsure of what that just might be.

“Sorry,” he said after a moment. “If that was weird we can just pretend I never–”

“S’okay,” I cut him off. “Just caught me off guard is all.”

“You’ve always caught me off guard,” he said now. “Ever since the moment I met you, you’ve always kept me on my toes. Whether it was getting more tattoos or spouting rap lyrics out of nowhere or that you dropped everything at a moment’s notice and flew across the country to go hiking with your sister over the summer. I’ve never known what to expect when it comes to you.”

Suddenly I wasn’t dancing with a ghost anymore. 

“Niall, I…” I trailed off, biting my lip as the words jumbled incoherently in my head.

“Are you happy?” he asked, his voice quiet again.

I took a deep breath. I knew the words now. 

“I’m always happy when I’m with you,” I told him truthfully.

“I don’t mean because of me,” he said, but I heard his breathing hitch. “Are you happy? Are you whole?”

“If you’re asking whether or not I need you, or anyone in my life in that capacity to make me happy,” I took a deep breath, “the answer is no. I’m very happy with my life and where I am within it. I feel complete and strong and I love myself. I’m not ashamed and I’m not hiding from my own mind.”

He stayed silent. Just as he always could, he sensed there was more to be said and was waiting patiently for me to say it as the song drifted out and the lights started coming up around us. 

“The thing is though, Niall,” I stepped back from him, my bare feet giving him a little added height as I looked up at him, “I never needed you. I didn’t use you to complete myself. Even when I was lost and broken, I didn’t need you. It was never about that.”

He took a breath and held it. 

“I wanted you,” I said slowly, making sure he heard me. “I still want you.”

I watched as he released his breath in a huff and his eyes searched my face, made sure what I was saying was absolutely true before he reached forward and laced his fingers through mine. A small smirk was pulling on his lips.

I squeezed his hand.

“God,” he sighed. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Me too.” I smiled up at him. 

There were a thousand ways that life can lead us, and sometimes the universe puts people in our way just to teach us lessons or help us grow. Sometimes people are constant, like Mehar and Louis and Cleo, like Liam and Ana and Harry. Sometimes those people are fleeting. Sometimes those shooting stars across our sky are so pretty to look at that they’re painful when they’re gone and sometimes they’re so blinding that their absence leaves us shrouded in darkness, even though we’re glad they’re gone. 

 There are those people still that are just in our orbit, coming back around every once in a while, and bringing light and warmth that we know will always be close by. Occasionally, the universe needs to test us though. It puts people in our path that knows we need to decide on our own if they’re going to be fleeting or constant. I had to go through what I did in order to fully appreciate who I was and who the people in my life were. I had to struggle and pick up the pieces and battle myself, fight against my own mind.

I was sure though, looking up at Niall now that he wasn’t just in orbit in my universe. He wasn’t a shooting star that burned too bright and left my sky darker after he left. Nor was he a painful memory as he burned my retinas for looking too intensely at him. Niall was one of my constants, of that I was sure. We had been tested, but what relationship wasn't tested? 

So when I smiled up at him and his blue eyes lit up as he smiled back down at me, I knew that his place in my universe was balancing itself out, that there was room for him all along and that I could have my own happiness and I could have him. Niall had helped me grow and that connection we shared wasn’t severed because we weren’t together anymore. Like the tide, when I’d left it had pulled me back in and I was settling in beside him. 

With my world settling it only made sense that I fell back into place beside Niall. Someone to share my completed world with. Someone to share in his world as well.

#you know how authors do a dedication at the beginning of the book? #mines at the end #here it is: #for donna #and thank you #fic: only ticket home #fic: oth #oth25 #1dff #niall horan fanfic

[madamhatter]

bigcasinc inquired:  🚼- For Sophie and Jade! send me 🚼 and a ship I’ll use a doll-maker to design what I think a child between our two muses would look like | accepting | @bigcasinc​

made using this picrew: loose carrot maker refer to ‘appearance’ for specifics (and what this maker couldn’t include).

NAME: Emery (A/N.: Or Moira! i’m unsure atm but i like emery a lot)  Leech Hatter AGE: 4~6 GENDER: Female (she/her) APPEARANCE:

Eyes mutated to a gold-brown hazel. No heterochromia like her father. 

Height is 3′2″/96 cm. Reaches to her mom’s waist.

Serrated teeth with a big smile.

Teal hair with silver highlights in it. Hair length at her neck and always picked up/styled. Usually in pigtails with bows or a ponytail with a bow. 

Thick brows and wide eyes like mother. Eye shape and mouth shape like father.

Can look unintentionally terrifying and does not understand she can be scary. She knows her smile can cause reactions (from her mom’s cooing and a barrage of kisses on her rounds cheeks to making people ‘jump’ (if she does a narrow smile like Jade’s or Floyd’s might scare the shit out of adults and children)). Bro, if someone asks her to flash her teeth, she's more than ENTHUSIASTIC to go ‘Okay!!’ and show them off.  

Usually seen worn rompers, pinafore dress w/ an undershirt, or repurposed shirts (from her mom’s childhood closet) and shorts. Always a solid purple, orange, or red top with a patterned shirt underneath it. Always in comfortable footwear for climbing and running or sandals.

PERSONALITY:

Largely a talkative child, with the support of her mother and her sisters as they are receptive and converse whenever something is on Emery’s mind. By ‘talkative,’ she is one who is in constant thought and with high curiosity. It doesn’t mean she outright talks to strangers who pass by her or may even make eye contact with her. 

Blunt without recognizing negative connotations or thoughts. She will speak what is on her mind, which aren’t properly thought through in terms of socialization (not that she cares for that at her age). It follows the same vein as a certain eel, except without the patronizing tone.  IE: “Do not run. You’re slow.” / "I’m fast to catch everyone. That’s easy.” 

Is to an extent clingy to her mother and aunts. She is known to hold onto her mom’s legs or hide underneath her mother’s long skirts whenever she’s talking. Very upfront in greeting those who she knows are close and tries to be polite. (Mostly, this is her trying to mimic how Sophie speaks but it’s WAAAY too dense for Emery sometimes). Though, she likes attention. She hasn’t put two-and-two together, but she knows her mom ‘follows’ her whenever she runs. So, Emery is more committed to running around with her human mother chasing after her and telling her to wait. 

As the last point denotes, she’s pretty perceptive to the people around her and reading them. She’s quick to know that x will get her y. Though, she doesn’t have complex thoughts down at her age yet. She will ask a sleuth of questions which may not have answers for -- but she is one to impose and seek. It’s her way of ‘reading’ the room.

Ecstatic to learn and being hands-on in things. Always behind with her mom to help her out in the kitchen or the hat shop (mainly, taking ribbons) and always tries to peek at the table and countertop. Additionally, she is one that would go out to try to help others -- if not, tell them that her mom can fix anything and lead them to her (explained in personal headcanons).

Emery still gets outright overwhelmed and restless at her age, when it comes to roadblocks and rejection -- especially by peers. She has a big threshold (if not tolerance) for what she takes and usually reciprocates a smile, before going completely quiet. This is where she’ll go into hiding or finds her high energy leaving her fitful and bothered.

SPECIAL TALENTS:

SHIFTER - As half-person and half-merperson, and given her parents’ magical prowl, Emery has the gift of being able to shift between these forms. Being raised on the land, she has defaulted to her two-legs. However, she will be able to morph into her mer-form, which is remarkably similar to her father’s (smaller, with numerous silver spots, and frills). She needs to train herself, but at her age, it will come fairly easily. She needs to be thoroughly dried and taken to a side by the water to help her shift back to her human form (which her mom takes well care of). Emery, however, is not aware of this ability or her heritage. 

HIDE-AND-SEEK CHAMPION - Known to hide in almost any place that she can find, Emery is known by the local children to be practically undetectable when it comes to her hiding spots and when she changes spots. This power is two-fold. She is an exceptional, if not terrifying, seeker. She can’t put her finger on it, but she finds them easily (through smell) and slowly walks over to the other children, patting them, which sends them in a jolt, if not, screaming from terror. However, this talent also comes into play when she feels restless and uncertain, as she’ll go and hide somewhere cramped and dark for comfort. Her mother is able to find her all the time, when at home. There was a point that newborn Emery would only calm down if Sophie made it dark enough and made the right arrangements (use a small carrier, partially covering the crib with a blanket, etc). It is near impossible to draw her out unless it is her mother, sisters, and family friends (or her few close friends).

DURABILITY AND ENHANCED STRENGTH AND SENSES - Comes from merperson heritage. The primary example is her baby teeth that are notably sharp (and will get sharper once her baby teeth fall out) and can draw blood without much effort. Though, she is very careful about this. Another example would be her reaction to pain -- like how she may run into a door or glass with a terribly loud thud and she’d step back, blink, laugh, and continue running after a friend. She isn’t invincible and she can get hurt, but she is definitely more resilient from human children. Can she break bones? Yes! She isn’t yet at that point, however, as she is literally a kid.

INCLUDED: Love for music and rhythm, collect-and-gathering trinkets.

WHO THEY LIKE BETTER:

Given circumstances (refer to #1 personal headcanon), Emery prefers her mom. Though, if she wants to budge her mom or wants something her way, she’ll easily wiggle to bug her aunt Martha, Sophie’s youngest sister, to (try) and get it. Genuinely, there are times where Emery will prefer her aunts over her mom, if not because the three of them group together and indirectly bully Sophie into doing something for their niece.

WHO THEY TAKE AFTER MORE:

Physically, it is undeniable that she takes after Jade more. Blame the dominant genes on his end, but the gold tinge in her eyes, teal hairs, and sharp teeth are the biggest indications of this. I would also extend the thought that she takes on more Jade than one may realize -- if only because her own interactions aren’t as maliciously calculating as her father’s. There are core traits that blend in with Sophie’s, where the edge is there with an unhealthy amount of energy that needs to be burnt off. 

PERSONAL HEADCANONS:

Emery is the unexpected product of Jade and Sophie’s relationship when it was coming to a close. Their relationship ended as soon as they departed from NCR, unsure really what to make of another (as in, be it if they could be long-term partners or they needed to seek out others). They were intimate, friendly, perhaps confidants. But, without a proper title, it was better to depart from their teenage dreams before it spiraled out of control. The discovery was never disclosed. Sophie realized what was going on and refused to reach out. To interfere with what they agreed with - that chapter was over, he went else and so did she. Did she regret agreeing to part ways? Yes, but who’d be that selfish to drag him back? For all she knew, he found better somewhere in the wide world -- maybe even a mate too, which would make this situation extremely problematic.  In this situation, Emery is raised by her single mother and is unaware of her father and likewise, her father is completely unaware of her.

Emery’s concept of destruction and fixing all revolves around her mother. She has a long history of destroying the toys that Sophie has made for her (one of the closest ones being a large purple patchwork bear). But, any time something the stuffing is coming out or the bear is losing an eye, she happily walks over to her mother and Sophie fixes it. She doesn’t quite get there is a point of no-return for certain damages, but she is more than content that with this logic, her mom can fix anything. Hence why she’ll instruct people who ask her questions she doesn’t know (or if they’re upset) to “speak to mama!”

Lots of moray eel behaviors that she performs. A couple of them were mentioned before. But, I have more. One of them happens to be how she interacts with blankets and trying to fall asleep, She ends up rolling around it, wiggling a little helplessly, before laughing and rolling around with it on the mattress. She also does it because she’s a little too excited to go to bed with her mom (both have shared the same mattress)!

Lettie and Martha’s MagiCam accounts, as Sophie either doesn’t have one (or recently made one post-NCR which is private), have some photos and videos of their lovely niece! She happens to pop into photos per accident, only because she’s wondering why her aunts are attempting ten poses and she thinks they’re trying to dance. A fun game that Martha plays with her follows is ‘spot the emmy’ (’emmy’ is her nickname from the hatter trio / sophie specifically calls emery ‘eri’ (pronounced like ending of emery) or tulip/tuli) where a large background photo is available and people have to guess where emery is hiding (in plain sight)! It’s quite popular! There’s also videos of Sophie and Emery interacting, which shows some parts of their personal life. For example, one would be where Sophie squats down tp Emery’s level and ‘blep’ her tongue/stick out her tongue, which Emery does in turn. The ‘bleping’ is something Emery already does.

#( by brackish waters they’d dance on the edge ; unsure of where the next step will end | jade && sophie ) #( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks ) #bigcasinc #[ i originally was going to fill this out as if j.ade made profile(s) for the kids he made up for his fanfic ] #[ but then my mind went ':)' and then I did this ] #[ also yes everyone is getting a profile write-up ] #[ the storyline might be sad af .. but i will die for emery bc i might've spent too much time making her a real character mkgdfg ] #long post tw #long post

[marvel-medigeek-fics]

Candid

This is my entry/fic/thing/whatever for @ruckystarnes’ summer of AUs challenge! I hope you enjoy and remember to check out some of the other submissions! 

Summary: Two rival studios. Two impossibly competitive photographers. Two days of a candid war. A high possibility of a candid romance. *wink wink*

Warnings: none! (except some puns)  

Pairing: T’Challa & Reader 

Word Count: 1963 

——

Friday. 8:07. Shutterfly Photography.

It was bound to be a slow day. Fridays are the slowest days, even without the lazy busy summer feel of the weekend of the 4th of July. You had a gig lined up for the Citywide Block Party that weekend, a celebration you looked forward to every year. Especially the food from the ice cream shop and the barbeque place downtown. Mmmmm.

The door opened just then, interrupting your salivating about the food. You recognized the person occupying your doorway. T’Challa from King’s Photos.

“Howdy,” he said, tipping his imaginary hat. 

“What are you doing here, T’Challa?” you replied skipping the formalities for your rival. 

“Such hostility!” he said in mock outrage, “I was checking to see how we were going to do the block party.” 

“There’s no we in this,”

“Check your email,” he replied simply. You looked for a glimpse of snark, but all you got was a shrug. So you sighed and checked your email. 

Once you had skimmed it, you looked up and narrowed your eyes at your rival. He narrowed his back. 

“So…we’re doing this together,” you said finally. 

“I’m afraid so. We all know what happens when we’re together.” He was no doubt referring to the fact that the last time you two had done anything together, you’d seriously bruised each other. With baseballs. On accident. 

“Let’s just wing it.” You knew this phrase would irk T’Challa, which is why you said it, hoping to annoy him enough to make him quit the gig. But you also knew it was futile because T’Challa is not a quitter. 

“Yes, let’s. Just wing it.” He replied, fighting to keep the scowl off of his face. 

“Just messing with you, how about we just make our way around the park, photographing as we walk?”

“Much better than winging it. Adding to that, why don’t we try and take candid photos. The 4th of July is a pretty casual holiday.”

“Surprisingly, I really like that idea.” 

—-

Friday. 13:38. Jackson Event Center Parks. 

Armed with your trusty Nikon and it’s case filled with extra batteries, you made your way to the far end of the park. It was a perfect summer day, breezy and just barely hot enough to melt your popsicle. You snapped a few pictures of the people milling around and a few more of the band that was set up to play in about 20 minutes. 

After walking around yourself for those 20 minutes, buying an ICEE from the stand, capturing the worker serving a little girl her ICEE, you finally found T’Challa. 

“What is that?” he pointed at the cup in your hand. 

“A strawberry ICEE.” you replied, taking a sip of the slushy drink. 

He still looked confused, so you elaborated, “It’s a slushie. Come on, you should get one.” 

You dragged him to the stand, stopping every few feet to snap another candid photo of people doing people things. A couple kissing at the end of a country song. A little boy presenting his mom with a fistful of dandelions. A braid train of three girls and a very talented boy. You were so busy with admiring the little moments you had captured that you didn’t notice T’Challa come up behind you, ICEE in hand. 

“What flavor did you get?” you said, trying to distract him from looking at your photos. 

“Orange,” he said, smugly looking over your shoulder. But you looked smugger. 

In one fell swoop, you turned around, smeared the uncovered ICEE into his face and snapped a picture. But T’Challa was nothing if not graceful, and he simply wiped off the orange mess off of his face. And onto your bare arm. 

He grinned, aiming his viewfinder and you and snapping, capturing your look of indignation and your hands blocking the camera in reflex. 

“Payback,” he said grinning. 

“Haha. This is a war now, Udaku.” 

“Game on, Y/L/N.” 

—-

Friday. 17:06. Jackson Event Center Parks Grandstand. 

You had taken a lot of pictures over the course of the day, most of them not simple candids, but of the actual band you’d been hired to photograph. The band was the Decade Hoppers, a new band that you’d never heard of before. They were really getting into their music, so they were prime real estate for unposed, casual pictures. Their music was pretty good and without realizing, you’d begun bopping and grooving to the beat. T’Challa took advantage of the loss of stiff uptightness and snapped a bunch of pictures of your moves. 

“Nice moves, Y/N,” He said, coming up to you, snapping a few pictures of his own of the band. 

“Not my best moves, I’m a better slow dancer,” you replied. 

“Oh, I bet, just like the slow dance in 8th grade where you smashed my toes so bad I couldn’t walk for two months.” 

“I’ve gotten better,” you sniped back. 

“Oh, I bet, so you’ll only break two of my toes this time?”

“Only one, if you buy me a milkshake first.” 

“How about zero if I buy you dinner?” 

“It’s a deal, T’Challa. There’s a dance tomorrow under the stars and the fireworks.” 

“Sounds sparkly.”

“You love glitter.” 

“Yeah, I’ll even wear a glitter tuxedo,” he said, walking toward another angle of the stage. 

“You’d better!” you called after him, shaking your head at how quickly that had gone from insulting to taking you out to dinner.

—

Saturday. 9:43. Jackson Event Center Parks. 

The second day of the 4th of July Block Party was always really slow in the morning, most people sleeping in or lazily eating pancakes from the cafes and coffee shops in town. You got a coffee from one of the food trucks serving breakfast. Very appreciated for everyone working at the celebration. 

The coffee was warm, the air was still and there were no sounds except for the occasional banter of the food truck workers and the gleeful screams of the neighborhood kids. It was perfect and with the mere thought of that dance tonight with T’Challa, your heart was making little kicks of joy. 

After finishing your coffee, you snapped a few pictures of the food truck workers sneaking kisses, a few of a volleyball game going on across the street and another few of the sun shining over the buildings. T’Challa appeared after you had snapped a terrible picture of the styrofoam coffee cup sitting empty on the table. 

“Having fun?” he asked, trying to hold back his laughter. 

“I am, actually,” you replied. 

“Want to go have more fun and go to Grace’s?” he replied, subtly begging you to go with him to a place he hated to go in alone. Especially because his ex ran the front counter. He was justifiably scared of her. 

“I would be happy to,” you said, standing up and taking his outstretched hand. In a second he would snap a picture. 

“Still a war going on, you know,” he smirked. 

“Oh, I know.” 

—

Saturday. 10:25. Grace’s Coffee. 

The bell rang as you came into the tiny coffee shop. You had vaguely registered T’Challa taking more candid pictures on the 10-minute walk over her, but you didn’t say anything. It was kind of cute. 

You walked up to the counter, confidently and casually holding T’Challa’s hand just to tick Grace off. “Your usual?” you asked him, knowing full well you had no idea what that was. 

“No, I’ll have french toast and a venti coffee,” he replied, a sudden boost of confidence coming over him as he relayed his order to Grace. “And she’ll have hashbrowns with another venti coffee.” 

“$10.94, sir, it’ll be right out,” Grace said, looking like someone gave her buttermilk in her cereal. 

When you had safely gotten out of Grace’s earshot and were sitting at one of those old fashioned diner tables, you whispered, “How did you know my order?” 

He shrugged, “Lucky guess?” 

You narrowed your eyes but seized the chance to take a picture of his sheepish grin and shrug. And then swiftly took another as the plates of your food slid into their places. 

“Really getting out there in the cultures this week, T’Challa. Yesterday ICEEs, today french toast, what’ll it be tomorrow?” you remarked, trying to get a rise out of him. 

“I’m more traveled than the president, woman, watch your mouth!” he said, waving a fork around your face. 

—

Saturday. 20:13. Jackson Event Center Parks. 

The night was beginning to wind down for the kids, but for the adults, it was just getting started. The snow cone stand was replaced with an alcohol truck and the music was relaxing back into sounds of the 70s, a stark change from the rapid pulse of the 90s. 

The sun wasn’t even close to going down, but the dance floor was getting fired up. T’Challa had come up behind you and whisked you off to one of the still left food trucks. Barbeque. 

“MMmmmmmm.” your mouth watered at the smell. 

“Ready for my part of the deal?” T’Challa quipped. 

“I’ll try not to stomp on your toes on the dance floor. I make no promises for getting barbeque, though,” you replied.

You ordered your usual, short ribs with extra sauce, very salty fries and an extra helping of mac and cheese. When you got back to the table T’Challa had told you to meet him at, he was waiting with an Oreo milkshake. “I thought dinner was the only part of your deal?” you questioned, digging into your food. 

“This is part of dinner.”

“Then I promise to not step on your toes for the entire night.”

“That’ll be a hard one for you, Y/N, but good luck,” 

—

Saturday. 22:19. Jackson Event Center Parks. 

“I’ll take my dance now, Y/N,” T’Challa said, just as the very beginnings of the firework show had erupted across the sky. 

You set your camera down next to his and made your way over to him. The sky was dark, but the fireworks gave off the perfect amount of light. Your hands fit perfectly together and from T’Challa’s smile, you could tell this was a positive revelation. 

The song changed from The Cupid Shuffle to a slow song with very soulful guitar chords and you made your way across the dance floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t wear my glitter tux,” he said, swaying along to the music. 

“You look great in what you’re wearing. I’m not even mad about the lack of glitter tux,” you replied, swaying back, making a conscious effort not to step on his toes. 

The fireworks kept going off in the background, but all you could hear was his breathing, calm, poised and peaceful. And your brain telling you to kiss your rival. You wouldn’t, no matter how cute he was and how sweet he had been today. 

“You look great too, Y/N,” he replied, his voice sending your brain back into kiss him, kiss him, kiss him rapid fire. “Happy 4th of July,” 

 And then he kissed you. Oh, holy macaroni. It felt so nice, you almost gave him a kiss back as soon as he pulled away. “Been waiting for this since the last time we danced and you broke my toes.”

“There’ll be none of that tonight. Just dancing in jeans and kissing under the fireworks,” you replied, smiling contentedly. 

—

 In the background of your first kiss together, the fireworks were still going off and the night was still young. Neither of you noticed the crowd behind you, cheering to the end of the fireworks. You both stood there, looking peaceful, beautiful and best of all, happy. 

It looked perfect, from the memories and from the photos someone took on your Nikons, still sitting side by side.

#rae's au summer #rssummerofaus #fanfiction #au #tchalla x reader #mmgfics

[heilewelt]

Music, Coffee, Weed - An Interview with Van William

A tiny little while ago Van William played as support with his friends from First Aid Kid in Berlin. While the women entered the stage, his tour manager picked me up to bring me backstage for a little chat about his first solo album “Countries”. Van William offered me a beer but I don’t drink alcohol and declined with thank to which he replied, laughing, that he’d prefer a joint to a beer. But more about this in the interview. 

Van William released “Countries” earlier this year after going through a rough time: the first really painful heartbreak, his dad retired and sold his fishing company - to work there and continue to do it when his dad retires was some sort back up plan for Van William and it crumbled into pieces as well. But now he could also continue to work as a barista in a coffee shop if everything fails...but so far I think, music will work for him. “Countries” is a very good album.

On this record you wrote the songs and then collected some of your friends to play on your record. Was it different for you this time with this record because it is your solo record?

It’s weird because my previous bands, Port O’Brain and WATERS, started as solo projects. When Port O’Brain started it was just me and then we added band members over time, same with Waters. In some ways it was actually pretty similar. It’s just my name on it instead of a band name. When we recorded it I didn’t even know if we would call it a band name or my name or anything. In that way it was pretty similar. But it was the first time that I ever spend a good amount of time, 10 days, living where we recorded. We just lived north of San Francisco in a house and worked late, made dinner for each other, drank vine and smoked pot and just had a communal living for 10 days in nature. And going for hikes and walks. It felt like a weird vacation therapy thing and we also made a record.

Music is therapeutic – as much for the listener as for the writer. I mean you had your life changed quite upside down in a way, loosing your girlfriend, loosing your back-up plan. For me your album sounds quite happy when you don’t listen to the lyrics too much. I mean melody-wise it’s pretty danceable but the lyrics are not so happy.

It’s a pretty sad record honestly. I was in a pretty tough place when I wrote it. But I also wanted it to reflect all the different parts of a relationship, not just the end, the terrible part but also the beginning where it feels like you’re on drugs. You know what I mean? Being in love feels like being totally insane. That is the song “Before I found you”. It’s about being in love.

That’s the crazy video which you’ve just released. I read that music videos are very important for you as being a part of the album. Why?

For me it’s a huge part of the way your project is presented to the world. For a musicians there are a ton of ways to visually express yourself. Although I’m not a visual artist tho’ but when you have this opportunity it’s really special and cool. I always spend a lot of time thinking about the videos, the concepts - how I want them to be and how I don’t want them to look. For “Before I Found You” was really important to me. Because the song is about being in love and this kind of insane thing, I wanted it look like the David Lynch movie “Wild At Heart”. I always remember this couple when I was in love. Their love is so pure, even though they’re both from totally fucked up situations. That disappears when they are with each other. At least for most of it. I knew I wanted to work with Sylvia Grav. She was the director who also did all of the artwork for the record and the Alaska video. I’m still very happy how it all turned out.

How much influence do you have in how the video should look like?

I had the idea for the “Wild At Heart” reference but then the watched the movie together and we had some other ideas and talked about it for hours – we live together. I trust her so much visually that I’d come up with a general idea and trust her from that point on. Then it’s all her, down to what type of car and location and actress. That is all her. I’m just there if she asks for my opinion. If there is ever anything we disagree on, I always just trust her.

That’s good.

[laughs] I’m a musician and not a video director. She is. It’s important for me to be involved in it and be a part of the vision. It’s important to know when to hand that power.

In your music video you’re always acting yourself. Why?

I always enjoyed that part. It would feel weird if I wasn’t in the music video for one of my songs. If I had a dancing video, I’d take dancing lessons and learn to dance. It’s just like a press photo. It’s part of the deal and I like performing. In Highschool I was in Drama. It’s fun. Also, I think it’s a way – if you hear ‘Revolution’ on the radio or something you don’t know what my vibe is. I mean not that it is super accurate but it’s at least a window into the vibe of the song.

On the album half of the songs were written by yourself and the other half were co-written. What do you prefer?

I prefer co-writing. I think collaboration is one of the most enjoyable parts of this career. Not with everyone tho. I have had co-writing sessions with people which were terrible. I have certain people I write with, who are able to get stuff out of me and I get stuff out of them that we wouldn’t be able to do on our own.

Is it important to have this personal connection?

I think so. Chris who I wrote “Revolution” and “Cosmic Sign” with is my best friend. Mike who I wrote “Before I found You” and “You’ll Be On My Mind” is my songwriting hero. Marta, my ex, and I worked on a couple of the songs together. It’s important. I had sessions where I met someone and immediately started to write songs together and it’s usually weird.

For this album you had a ‘no synths’ rule. Why do you need to limit yourself on something?

Mainly it was because my band Waters had so much synths on every song. I think it’s important to have some limitations when you’re making a record. My records tend to be all over the place – slow songs, fast songs, trumpets, strings, this, that – there is all this stuff and I want to create a world for the record. When making “Countires” I felt there wasn’t really room for synths…as leads anyway. But for the next record, which I started writing, there will definitely be synths. I love synths. I used synths in my whole career but for this one I wanted it to be a little more acoustic.

I think especially for songs about break ups and such it feels more organic when it is more acoustic. It makes it even more ‘being there’, not so hidden. One of the first questions I wrote down when I prepared the interview was – because I read in an interview that your passion is coffee and you worked in a coffee shop – what is better for your songwriting: coffee or weed (since you’re not so much a beer drinker)?

Definitely weed. Not always and not that much of it. When I’m too stoned I just write the worst things ever. If I have a little weed and maybe even combined with a little coffee, it can clear me up a little bit. I feel like I’m the type of person who has a lot of anxieties and things blocking my creative process. I can fight through that. I don’t need weed. I’ve written plenty without weed, most. If I’m a little stoned it’s just a way for me to make it easier to connect with that creative side. Especially at night. It’s legal in California now so it’s easy to get exactly the type you want. Weed is important to me. I could have not a drop of alcohol for the rest of my life and be fine. Coffee also is huge. I wouldn’t be able to talk to you unless I had coffee. I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed unless I know there is a way to get coffee.

I haven’t known you or your music before yesterday evening and just from you music and the photos I saw I would have never imagined you on a commercial fisher boat. In my head it doesn’t really fit together.

I’m not the typical Alaska fisherman. I’d just go to Alaska for four month every year since I was born. In these four month life slows down because it’s always light outside and there is just nothing going on. Before I started working on my dad’s boat we were just hanging out in Kodiak City which is just 5000 people and there is nothing to do. These four month would feel like six month. When I was growing up I didn’t know where my home was. It was always either Alaska or California. I liked  being in Alaska more.

Because you’ve been there in the summer?

I don’t know. I was never very social, I never really liked hanging out with friends. I’d much rather just hang out by myself. So, when I was in California you have to hang out with people all the time. And then I go to Alaska and I don’t know anyone. I could just hide. I love California and there are a lot of hiking opportunities as well but you always got to hang out with all these people who I love. They’re amazing but I also like to get away from it.

Do you seek for something else where you can go now that the fisher boat is sold so you still have your four month break in a way?

For now I’ve been touring so much. I worked this last summer for half a summer. I haven’t done a full summer in a while because I’ve been touring. I’m kind of used to the idea of not doing it this much anymore.

It was your back-up plan…

It wasn’t even really a back-up plan. It was always like I would have been equally happy doing that.

I think I have asked all my good questions, the rest is just bullshit. So, maybe I ask one last question: What makes coffee good coffee?

I think there are many things. Every step of the way. One thing you can’t get around is the combination of the quality of the coffee bean and the roast. Until 10 years ago everyone was roasting coffee way too hard. It gets black and oily like at Starbucks. It’s basically just a way to mass produce coffee because if you roast something that hard it all taste the same level of shit. It’s burned, cat urin kind of smell. It’s disgusting. If someone has never has coffee in their life you have them taste a Starbucks cup of coffee, they would spit it out. We’re conditions to swallow it. Coffee is a berry. Berries can be sweet, they can be sour, they can be acidic and they have all these beautiful things. You have to be very precise and very careful but it’s possible that it is all these things: rich and complex and sweet and not bitter at all. It’s a very exciting thing that is happening at the moment. I see it more and more. Even this tour. Last time I was in Europe it was really hard to find a good cup of coffee in every city but now it’s easy. In Brussels there were three or four incredible coffee shops right where the venue was. Same in the States. Thank god. That was the most important question you had!

[laughs] Thank you for taking the time!

And for once I’m sharing some US tourdates as I’ll be at the Americana Fest in Nashville:

8/5 - Lollapalooza - Chicago, IL 9/7 - A&F Challenge - New Albany, OH 9/10 - Aisle 5 - Atlanta, GA 9/11 - Americana Fest - Nashville, TN 9/13 - DC9 - Washington, DC 9/14 - Baby's All Right - Brooklyn, NY 9/15 - Boot & Saddle - Philadelphia, PA 9/16 - Cafe 939 - Boston, MA 9/18 - Drake Hotel - Toronto, ON 9/20 - PJ Lager House - Detroit, MI 9/21 - Nickel Plate Amphitheater - Fishers, IN^ 9/22 - Space - Evanston, IL 9/28 - Lost Lake Lounge - Denver, CO 10/1 - Sunset Tavern - Seattle, WA 10/2 - Doug Fir Lounge - Portland, OR 10/4 - Swedish American Hall - San Francisco, CA 10/11 - Bootleg Theater - Los Angeles, CA ^ - with Manchester Orchestra

and even more news: a new video for “The Middle” from “Countries” which gives you little inside on how tourlife with Van William is like:

Thank you for reading,

Dörte

(c) Photo: Dörte Heilewelt

#van william #countries #pop #music #interview #songwriting #the middle #on tour #before I found you #coffee #weed

[jemacfarlandgo]

Exactly 1 year ago today, on August 18, 2019 Leisa and Beau were supposed to say “I Do” at their dream venue, Castle Hill Inn. Instead, this bride to be spent her intended wedding day in the hospital recovering from brain surgery. When their second date got moved out due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this positive couple didn’t get the change get them down. Instead, they saw the opportunity to lean into love and appreciate every moment they get to spend together. Thank you dearly to Leisa and Beau for sharing their story with us!

“I’ve never been the type to believe in fairytales. Even as a high schooler, I never fully understood drooling over boys or the idea of soulmates. It felt so silly, so much like a waste of time to constantly wonder if he liked me, to imagine myself in a white dress walking down the aisle to a prince charming.

Perhaps, naively, I was far more obsessed with my aspirations. Don’t get me wrong, I was familiar with love, my parents a beautiful, real model of what I dreamed of, the hard work and deep reward of this favored topic of philosophers, poets, writers, and scientists. From their example, I felt like I knew love.

But it wasn’t until I met Beau that I finally understood love. Suddenly, I found myself daydreaming about a home with overgrown hydrangeas and a fireplace mantle dressed in photo frames showcasing those classic “happily ever after” moments of our wedding day. I wondered if I’d wear a veil? Would my dress be simple or intricately embroidered with lace? A silhouette fit or an A line?

With Beau, there were always questions I never had to ask. I never wondered if he would propose, if this was real. Because I knew, it just…was. The way he looked at me, the way he cared for me and made me stronger, happier, better, each and every day. The way he was patient when I was stubborn and a voice of reason when I was illogical. And the way it made me feel to be with him, to be accepted and cherished and chosen, always, as me. With him, I was home.

The night he hid my engagement ring in a pizza box and asked me to be his wife was nothing and everything like a fairytale, all at once. In fact, it was absolutely opposite of what I had imagined, yet everything I wanted, slow dancing with him to Alexa playing Frank Sinatra in my comfiest pajamas — an Ohio State sweatshirt shriveling at the collar from being worn far past its obvious expiration date — and a bare face, clean after my nightly scrubbing of all the day’s makeup residue. I was unpolished, unmanicured, and completely over the moon with child-like excitement to start calling my parents and sister, text our entire families to make the announcement. I remember reaching for my phone and him gently grabbing my hand, insisting on one more dance to internalize, relish the moment. He said, “Once we start calling, it’s everyone’s moment. So let’s just wait, one more song, maybe a glass of champagne? Let’s just be together to keep this moment ours.”

Wedding planning quickly ensued. We chose August 18th at Castle Hill Inn in Newport, RI — the first place Beau and I had ever taken our own romantic getaway. As if from nowhere, my mom began pulling out magazine clippings that she seemed to have saved in her own closet for years and emailing me every picture she found on Pinterest that might possibly align with what I envisioned for bouquets and table settings. My future mother-in-law suggested Kleinfelds and I booked an appointment. I must have tried on 30+ dresses in total before going back to the first. When I opened up the fitting room door, my mom was an adorable mess, tears streaming down her face. Beau’s mom cried, too. But when my sister started crying, I knew I had found the one.

On July 26th, Beau left for his bachelor party in Costa Rica. I had an early appointment with an eye doctor before work, and although I wanted to cancel, I had made a new commitment to myself to stay attune to my health. My mom had recently been diagnosed with cancer and it instantly became clear how I needed to stay up-to-date, to be whole, to be strong, to be there for her. So I kissed Beau goodbye and told him to return in one piece, making him promise that he would come home on Monday exactly as I had left him — no cuts, scrapes, viruses or broken bones. He told me that August 18th was going to be the best day of his life.

What I expected to be an easy appointment turned quickly into an inconceivable nightmare. From the doctor’s office, I was directed to go to the hospital immediately for an emergency CT scan. From there, I was strapped and transported in an ambulance to another hospital for an MRI, my heart shrinking in fear. I just wanted Beau.

The next morning, two people in white lab coats walked into my hospital room and my heart collapsed into the depths of my stomach. Within moments, I was officially diagnosed with a Meningioma brain tumor. We talked for what seemed like forever, me firing questions as swiftly as my mouth could eject the words, all the while my fingers swiping the unending tears flooding my cheeks. After probably the seventh time of receiving the same answers to the same questions, I gathered the courage to finally ask — What about my wedding in two weeks? The neurosurgeon, composed yet soft, promised me he would be as careful as possible and only shave the necessary sections of my skull, but if I didn’t have the neurosurgery immediately to remove the tumor from my brain, I would likely be showing up to my wedding blind.

The instant we hung up the phone, Beau booked the first flight home and my dad immediately jumped into his car and drove 13 hours from Ohio to New York. My sister was taking her bar exam to become a lawyer and my mom was awaiting her own surgery. I was in the hospital for the entire month of August recovering from the drastic procedure (as well as an additional 25 seizures) and spent the whole month of September rehabilitating with therapy, as well as overall healing. I am now blind in my left eye and a small section of the tumor remains in my brain (a certain percentage of the tumor could not be removed, as its elimination would risk additional damage/harm to my nerve and blood vessels), meaning that I will likely spend a great deal of my future monitoring the tumor with the help of my neurosurgeon, neurologist, optical neurologist, and endocrinologist.

To be forced into postponing our wedding and spending our “big day” in the hospital, trying desperately to reignite my short-term memory and regain my strength is not something that I would wish upon any couple. It was heartbreaking. And yet, I felt blessed to be on the road to recovery, reinvigorated with a new gratitude for life, for family, and for love.

As I started to make significant progress and show positive signs of returning to the person I once knew myself to be, Beau and I began to again become excited for our new wedding date: May 10, 2020.

A little over a month ago, our second attempt at a wedding was abruptly halted, this time due to a global pandemic — the profoundly unthinkable place we, as a world, find ourselves to collectively confront. This time, the cancellation was attributed to a reason that was bigger than us — much bigger. An unsettling circumstance of heavy-hearted uncertainty. Subjecting our loved ones and jeopardizing the safety of our families, our vendors, the venue, the world, was so trivial in the grand scheme of things, and associating our special day with that surmount sense of fear was just not an option.

However, I must admit, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t devastated, remembering all that we had been through to finally reach the cusp of our vows. I spent May 10th imagining what Beau and I would have looked like, standing before our entire family in front of the gorgeous Castle Hill arbor, clocking the beginning of the ceremony, the start of cocktail hour, and anticipating the toasts that would have been shared at our reception. I repeatedly imagined the smile I had fantasized, over and over, overcome his face while I walked down the aisle, to him.

Regardless, I still felt thankful. We were healthy and safe and in love. That night, Beau sat with me on our bed and asked me if it would be okay if he started referring to me as his “wife” as opposed to his “bride,” because that better resembled who I was in his heart. How could I not be filled with gratitude?

Of course, Beau and I wanted a wedding and will still be in absolute adoration for the celebration if it comes (prepare for a wild party), but truthfully, at the end of the day, the depth of our love, tested through so many unpredictable, perturbed times, IS the fairytale. My prince is a punk rocker and has stood, anchored by my side through the toughest, scariest, most severely unforeseen moments of my life, again and again, making me feel always like his center, his universe. Sure, I may never get the exact celebratory moment I once dreamed of, but I can state, without a single breath of hesitation, that I am with the man I always dreamed of.

If I’ve learned anything in the past five years, it’s that love — an inexplicable, yet tangible, tender force that when strong enough, truly cannot be smothered. A wedding, in so many ways, feels like a fairytale. But Beau has taught me, unknowingly, purely by example, that real magic lives in our everyday life, in the beauty staring directly at us at all times, often in the crevices of routine normalcy, in plain sight; in the small, conjunctive moments that weave each of these minutes into sequence that, when noticed, make us feel complete. Simple moments like snuggling on the couch or hearing his laugh that make the ordinary extraordinary.

And that, this, us, right here and now, is the realest fairytale I could have ever imagined.

To all of our family and friends, thank you for your patience, understanding, and profound support throughout these challenging times. We love you all so, so much.

To all of the brides who currently feel hurt, sad, even betrayed that their special day was stolen, please know that the celebration will come, but the gift, your personal fairytale, is still right beside you.”

  Leisa and Beau’s engagement photos got postponed due to COVID but the couple did an impromptu photo session in their backyard with a phone on a tripod and the perfect barefoot backyard slow dancing. In case you needed a reminder today, every moment we get to spend with the ones we love is precious. Embrace the moments you get and take every opportunity to show love.

When a brain tumor and a pandemic stood in the way of "I Do" this couple choose to lean into love despite the challenges Exactly 1 year ago today, on August 18, 2019 Leisa and Beau were supposed to say "I Do" at their dream venue, …