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scuttling · 3 years

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Those Who Wait

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 4,985 Tags: 18+, Loss of virginity, Insecure reader, Fingering, Protected sex Summary: When you let it slip to the team that you've never had sex, they make it their mission to help you find someone who will make your dreams a reality. *Requested by anons!

Link to A03 or read below! “I don’t know how many times I have to reiterate this, but I am not a virgin,” Spencer says, palms up, and it’s clear this is something he’s reminded the team of on more than one occasion. You’re on the jet on the way home from a case, all of you gathered around chattering mindlessly to decompress, with the exception of Hotch, who is in his usual seat, working on his computer.

“And I never said I was talking about you,” you reply, with a tone just shy of smartass. You regret bringing it up already, because this will open the door to a topic you did not want to discuss with the team, ever, but you can’t put the cat back in the bag.

“Hold on. Are you…?” Emily grins a little, but her face drops into a frown when she notices the change in your demeanor, the tension in your shoulders. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, at all.”

“You’re a virgin? Really? You’re almost thirty,” Morgan says, leaning forward to look at you, and you nod, shrug. “Is it a religious thing? Saving yourself for marriage?” You scoot back in your seat, blow out a breath, use the casual posture to try to mask your discomfort.

“Nope, it’s not a religious thing. I’m just waiting for someone who’s worth it.”

“If you’re waiting for the perfect person,” JJ says, folding forward, hands clasped in front of her, “you’re going to be waiting forever.”

You sigh, because this is exactly the reason you didn’t want to bring this up.

“I’m not waiting for the perfect person. For a long time, I didn’t have time to date, and I was—you know, satisfied, without it, so it wasn’t an issue.” Your cheeks heat a little when you say it, and you rub a hand over the back of your neck. “But lately I’ve kind of shifted toward wanting to have sex, to find someone to make the connection with. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I do have standards.”

“Don’t put pressure on yourself to do it. You’ve waited this long, why rush into things?” Emily says with a soft smile, and you reciprocate, grateful.

“I actually think it might be better if she just goes for it,” Morgan disagrees. Why aren’t you surprised? “Get it in, get it on, and get it over with. Then you won’t feel like it’s hanging over your head.”

“I’m trying. It’s not that I’m not trying. I’m going on dates; they’re all just really, really bad dates—like, the worst I’ve ever been on.”

“How many dates?” JJ asks with an arched brow, and you grimace.

“In the last month? Twelve.” Morgan laughs out loud, and you kind of want to punch him.

“Twelve first dates in the last month and you can’t get laid? Where are you finding these guys?”

“This stupid dating app Garcia convinced me to sign up for. They all seem fine on their profiles—”

“Oh, no, you can’t go by their profiles. Complete bullshit,” Emily says, and you throw your hands up in frustration.

“How else am I supposed to know what they’re like? They’re strangers.”

“Your first time shouldn’t be with a stranger.” You’re a little surprised when it’s Spencer who chimes in; everyone turns to look at him. “You’re a lot like me, and I know that I was nervous and insecure, and waiting for the right person made it a really great experience for me. I think you should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful.”

“She’s going to be waiting ‘til she’s eighty,” Morgan says with a grin, but he pats you on the back. “And if you do, I guess that’s okay. Not every guy can be a catch like yours truly.”

“Oh, spare us,” JJ says with a laugh, and you move on to other topics for the rest of the flight.

When you go to grab your luggage before heading back to the office, it’s just you and Hotch left on the jet; he’s been quiet for most of the trip, but when he steps up next to you, he says your name, low, to get your attention.

“I just wanted you to know, you deserve to be treated well… your first time. You should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful, like Reid said.” You just look at him for a moment, not sure what to say.

Part of you knows what you want to say. You want to say, is it worth it? You want to say, how will I know? You want to say, would you make it meaningful?

What you say is, “Thanks, Hotch.” He nods, hands you your bag, then takes his, closes the luggage compartment; he gestures for you to go ahead of him, and the two of you exit the plane.

You all go back to the office. Everyone hangs around for a few minutes, but Hotch goes up to his office, turns on the lights, sits down at his desk, and takes off his jacket. He’s in for a long night, then. You’re just getting ready to leave when Garcia strolls over, bag in hand.

“Hey, girl. How was that date the other night? Haven’t gotten to talk to you about anything other than murder the last few days.” She notices that your eyes are on Hotch’s office, looks up at him and back down at you. “Is everything okay, hon?” The concern in her voice snaps you out of it, and you look to her, smile.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. The date was not, though. I’ll walk out with you.” You grab your things, throw your jacket over your arm, and take one last look up at Hotch’s office before making your way to the parking garage. You go on seven more dates over the course of three weeks that are a complete waste of time and effort. Who knew having what you consider relatively basic standards would make losing your virginity so goddamn difficult? You know you’re not a knockout like JJ or Emily, and sometimes your nerves get the best of you, but you’ve been pretty charming, funny, all dolled up and putting out clear, but not desperate, DTF vibes.

The longer your quest drags on, the more embarrassing it gets. It actually becomes a part of the morning meeting: as soon as you enter the briefing room each day, Morgan raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head. He’s keeping a tally. You want to die a little bit.

Finally, you’re sitting at home one evening when you get the call from JJ that you’ll be heading to Miami for a case first thing the next morning. You thank her for letting you know, but before she hangs up, she says, “Bring a dress, something sexy. If we have an extra night, we’re going to a club and getting you laid.”

You stammer, a little embarrassed at the directness, but you pack a short, light, red dress, something appropriate for a humid Miami night, on the off chance you’ll actually get to go out.

The case is solved in a day and a half, and you are going to stay the night again, so JJ and Emily make it their mission to get you ready for a night out, and Morgan and Spencer make it their mission to scope out your potential partners and check for red flags before you even get close to them.

It’s sweet, kind of wholesome, when you ignore the fact they’re trying to get you fucked.

You have a drink at the outdoor bar, try to loosen up a little; the place is swarming with gorgeous, supermodel looking women with very little clothing on, breasts and ass everywhere you turn, and you feel inadequate, self-conscious in your little red dress. You freaking hate Miami.

You get glances from Morgan and Spencer, nudges of encouragement from Emily and JJ—even Hotch is around somewhere, part of the red flag detail, which you hadn’t expected—and you’re so close to giving up when a song comes on that you know and absolutely love.

Sex is outside your realm of knowledge, but dancing you can do, and you wrap your hand around Emily’s wrist and tell her you want to. JJ takes your drinks, sets them on the table, and the three of you head out to the dance floor.

It’s clear they didn’t expect much of your dancing, because they looked surprised as hell that you know how to work your body to the music, putting your arms on JJ’s shoulders and moving against her. She looks up, grins at Emily over your head, and cocks her eyebrow, impressed.

“Not that innocent after all,” she says, and you toss your head lightly, laugh.

“Said I was a virgin, not that I was innocent.” The three of you dance together, and you’re approached by several guys who try to get behind you, in between you, closer anyway they can. JJ and Emily are selective with who they entertain and who they give the brush off, and you’re grateful, because despite the outcome, you’re having a good time, and you never would have done this alone.

Eventually, a man comes over, wants to dance with you specifically; the girls exchange looks, give you a nudge, and you put your arms around his neck, let him rest his hands on your hips.

He’s pretty hot, you have to admit, a little under six feet tall, with dark hair and eyes and a nice smile, and dancing against him feels good. If it’s any indication of what if would be like to have sex with him, you’d let him take you home in a heartbeat. Of course, it’s been pre-planned that you’ll go back to your room upstairs if you hook up, so your people are nearby in case anything goes wrong; it’s maybe a little weird, the thought of your coworkers being cheerleaders while you lose your virginity, but what about this isn’t weird? At this point, you’re just going with the flow.

This guy is nice enough, doesn’t go straight for your ass like other guys you danced with, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing; you pull back, get his attention so you can tell him thanks for the dance, but you’re going to go back to your friends.

You don’t get a chance to say that, because you’re guided away from him by two strong hands on your waist. You turn, ready to tell someone off for getting handsy with you, but it’s Hotch, so the defensive posture you’d slipped into softens.

“Oh, hey. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” you ask loudly; his expression is serious, his brows pulled down in a frown. He shakes his head, leans in closer.

“I can’t let you go through with that—with him,” Hotch says in your ear, still hard to hear over the thrum of the music, and you put your hand on his shoulder, lean up so you can speak into his.

“What? Why not?” you ask, breathless from dancing and the heat. “JJ and Emily thought he seemed alright.” You didn’t actually want to go through with it, but that’s not important at the moment, not when Hotch is clearly trying to get some kind of point across.

“It’s not that, I just—you deserve better.” You frown, not sure you heard him right, and one of the hands on your waist moves lower; he presses you closer. “I don’t know if you would consider it, but I could do it. I could be the one.”

“The one?” you breathe. You need to hear him say it to confirm it’s not all in your head, that you aren’t taking anything out of context.

“The one you sleep with. The one to show you how good it can be. The one who will treat you well.”

You take a step back, have to see his face; is this pity, kindness, genuine interest? Because for the last few weeks, after every bad date, you’ve come back to the thought of Hotch kissing you, touching you, taking you apart. You know his hands are capable, you know he is kind and gentle, and it’s only the thought of him that keeps you from leaving with the first guy to show you attention. You’re so frustrated, never more desperate to feel than you have been since he told you you deserved something good.

He swallows when you look up at him, and your heart races.

“If you want to, I want to. No pressure if you don’t,” he assures you. What he’s saying is so unexpected, but so perfect, and you nod, wet your lips, lean back up on your toes to put your mouth to his ear.

“I want to. I trust you.” Feeling bold, you brush a hand over the back of his head, press your lips to the side of his neck. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” He sounds as tense as you feel, holds you tightly, like he needs to make sure this is really happening. You cling to him just as tightly, nod your head against his throat, and he squeezes your waist, ushers you across the crowded patio and inside the cool air of the hotel. You both sigh, because it’s quieter, more comfortable, and your gaze lingers over his body until he pulls you in for a gentle kiss.

You’ve done your fair share of kissing, and Hotch is so good at it, his hands on your face, his lips softer than you would have imagined, but firm in the way they press against yours. When the kiss breaks, you bring your hands to his wrists, breathing heavily, and then lean in to follow up with a kiss of your own.

He smiles softly, and you smile back, then slip your hand into his and let him lead you to the elevator. You’re not sure if it’s the night of dancing, the heat, the thrill of not only having sex after waiting so long, but having sex with Hotch, or what, but you feel changed; you’re a grown adult, you know that losing your virginity doesn’t mean much, doesn’t change who you are fundamentally, but the thought of experiencing it gives you a stomach full of butterflies in the best way possible.

“Would you like to go to my room, or yours?” he asks when you board the elevator, and he presses the button for the third floor. You plan to say it doesn’t really matter to you, but a thought crosses your mind.

“We can go to mine. I have condoms.” You’re not shy about using protection, know it’s just plain stupid not to, when you've been essentially searching for a new partner whose sexual and medical history you know little to nothing about, but telling Hotch makes your face heat a little. “I bought a variety pack—you know, when I started going on the dates.”

“Good. That’s good,” he says, nodding, and then he bends to kiss you, brushes his fingers over your jaw. “How are you feeling? Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Good,” you clarify. You feel so much better than okay you barely know how to say it, but there is one thing you didn’t think to ask before. “Hey, are you… are you attracted to me?” You look him over curiously, and the elevator dings; you step forward to get off, walk down the hall, but Hotch puts his hand out to stop the door, which stops you.

“I’m attracted to you. You’re gorgeous, and ever since you mentioned on the jet that this was something you were looking forward to… I can’t deny I’ve thought about being the one you share it with. Are you attracted to me?” You wet your lips, ready to reply with an emphatic yes, but he must take it for hesitation. “I understand why you want to do this, but if you aren’t attracted to me—it’s important that you want this with me, not just that you want this. I don’t want us to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

His words make you lose a little of the nervousness you were still holding onto, and you decide to show, not tell, how you feel about him; you wrap your fingers in his shirt and guide him down for a kiss that is hotter than before, still soft and slow, but wet and deep, too. After a moment, the elevator dings—likely due to the door remaining open for so long—and you break apart, breathless, and exit the elevator to head down the hall to your room.

Your interaction isn’t exactly awkward at first, but a little stilted: you both take off your shoes, and you grab waters from the mini fridge, hand him one and take a long sip of the other. It’s almost as if you are delaying the inevitable, but it’s not because this isn’t something you want to do; if pressed, you’d say the idea of having this time with Hotch is actually something you want to savor, not rush into too quickly. You aren’t delaying, but prolonging, and eventually you have to snap yourself out of it and just enjoy what you have while you have it.

You cross the room, walk over to him, and put your hands on his stomach, look up at him with clear eyes. His fingers ghost over your bare arms, and for a moment you just share breath, a lingering stare, until you stretch up to meet him in the middle for a deep kiss.

Hotch moves his hands to your hair, tips your head up, and you wind your arms around his back, pulling him closer and stepping forward until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He is warm, broad, solid beneath your hands, and you push them up the back of his shirt, skim them over his skin.

“Can I take this off?” you breathe when you separate, and he nods, helps you work it over his head and drops it to the floor.

Your hands rest on his stomach again, glide up his chest, and when you kiss this time, he turns you so your back faces the bed, eases you onto it. He lays between your legs, kisses until you’re both panting with need, and when you lean your head back to catch your breath he moves his mouth to your neck, trails it slowly up, then down, softly bites at the base of your throat. You hum softly, clutch his shoulders, bring your knees up around his waist.

“God, I want you.” He pulls back, looks down at you, his chest heaving, and you nod, brush fingers through his hair. “I want you, Hotch. Please touch me.”

He begins with the slow drag of big, careful hands down the outsides of your thighs, over your hips, pushing your dress up around your waist. You can’t stop looking at his face, serious and handsome, even though the rest of him is perfect too; you like that he looks affected by this, like it means something to him as well, like you’re not alone in feeling a bit overwhelmed. He moves his hands to the soft insides of your thighs, squeezes them, then leans up on his knees so he can pull your panties off, sets them on the bed beside him.

“I’m just going to rub. Tell me if it’s too much, not enough.” He curls over you for a kiss and slides his fingers along your pussy, three of them, long and thick. You close your eyes immediately, because the first touch is so good, his fingertips gliding through your slick and spreading it over your lips and clit; you are both breathing heavily, mouths hovering over each other, and you clutch at his biceps while he rubs where you are soft and aching.

It’s not that it’s not enough—you could get off this way, easily, you’re halfway there already—but you want more, imagine yourself clamping down around his fingers, digging your nails into him when you come.

“Can you…” You trail off, bite your lip, and he smooths a palm over your cheek, your hair.

“Ask me. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to give it to you.” A soft, needy noise leaves your throat, and he presses his lips to yours, slips the pads of two fingers over your clit, rubs circles against it. “Is it this? Is this what you want?” You wet your lips, think no but yes, move a hand to his face.

“Can you put your fingers inside me? I want to feel you inside.” Your voice trembles over it, not used to being so direct, not used to asking for what you want, and his answering kiss is deep, wet; he pulls back to look at your face as he presses one finger inside, and you feel your expression shift, from desperate to intensely pleasured, your mouth open, eyes wide. “Hotch, oh.” He pulls it out slowly, nearly all the way, and pushes it back in, rubs your cheek, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Good is an understatement, and you clench around him, slide your hands down his forearms, nod. “Good. It’s okay if you’re just quiet, but if you’re nervous about how you’ll sound, don’t be. I’d like to hear how you’re feeling.” Another reason to feel so good about this—because you are self-conscious of the way you’ll sound, and you should have known he would pick up on it, try to ease your insecurities. You wet your lips, nod, and he moves the finger slowly in and out, adds another when you ask him to.

“Mmm. Mmm.” You bring a hand to your covered breast, squeeze it, and he moves to push your dress up further, to bare it, maybe, but you tense, then instantly feel silly.

“What is it?” he asks gently, running his hand over your stomach instead, and your muscles relax, you sigh.

“Just a little self-conscious… about my breasts—especially after everything I saw downstairs,” you say, huffing a laugh, and he chuckles, nods.

“Miami is a bit much. But you’re so beautiful, sweetheart, just as you are, and it’s clear they bring you pleasure. If you’ll let me, I’d like to take your dress off all the way, touch them… kiss them.” The prospect sounds so tempting—your nipples are sensitive beneath your own hands, but under his? His mouth?

Your breathing picks up again, and you nod, rest your arms over your head so he can pull it up and off. You swallow, trembling and bare beneath him, and he steps off of the bed to push the rest of his clothes off, too; you know you feel vulnerable, so maybe he sensed it, wanted to make you more comfortable? Either way, he is gorgeous, and you’re so grateful to be doing this with him.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks, bending over the edge of the bed to kiss you with a hand on your cheek. You direct him to your bag, and he opens the box, takes out the one he needs, walks back to you; you lean up on your elbows to watch him intently as he tears the package open, rolls it onto his cock. When he climbs on top of you again, when he pushes your knees gently apart and makes himself at home between them, you shudder; you can feel his dick for the first time, hard against your thigh, and he leans in to kiss your throat, your shoulders, and eventually, your breasts.

His mouth covers one, his hand covers the other, and you gasp when his lips close around your nipple, suck softly. “Hotch, oh my god.” You lift your hips, looking for contact, and he removes the hand from your breast, uses it to line his cock up so it can slide over your pussy as you rock against him, wet, perfect pressure, as he pulls your breast more roughly into his mouth, nibbles it.

You arch your back, pushing your chest closer to him, and he moans, slowly glides his hands over your throat, into your hair. He shifts the angle of his hips, and he slips out from between you, making you sigh at the loss. Now that you’ve felt him, it’s maddening to be without, and you wet your lips, touch his face.

“I’m ready.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks, your chin, rubs his nose softly against yours, and you meet for a deep, slow, wet kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Please.” You move your hands to his waist, guide him closer, and he pushes slowly inside, lets you get used to the stretch it brings. It just feels good, not really a new sensation, since you’ve put toys inside before, but he is so much thicker, more satisfying to feel along your sensitive channel, his body warm on top of yours.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs, lips grazing yours, and you curl your hand around the back of his neck, just kiss him, enjoy the fullness and the slide of his tongue.

“So good. You can move,” you say, and your voice sounds strained, but it’s with arousal, not discomfort. You hitch your knees up higher, put your hands on his arms, pull him in so he’ll know that. “Want to feel you, Hotch.” You share breath for a few moments, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward, repeats it a few times, slow and steady, looking into your eyes.

You moan, carefully roll your hips in time with his, and he pumps inside a little deeper, a little quicker. You grip his arms, move your hands to his face, unsure what part of him you want to touch, anchor yourself against. He leans down for a kiss and you press your fingers to his cheeks, kiss him more passionately, less timidly than you’ve been so far. He groans against your mouth, and you pant as your bodies work together; it’s almost instinctual, the need to take him deeper, to meet, thighs hard against each other.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sliding his hands over your sides, hips, and you nod, gasp when he shifts up, gets his mouth on your breast again, kisses it wetly while his cock glides inside. That’s enough to have you moaning, loudly, head back, your hands on his body now, to feel his muscles flex while he thrusts inside you.

“Hotch, oh. Feels so good, I—” He bites down, lightly, just the edge of his teeth, and your legs snap tight against his body, shaking while you come around him. “Oh, oh. Mmm.” Your muscles contract so hard he grunts, your pussy all but trapping him there, and he grinds against you, grips your thighs.

“So perfect. You feel so good coming for me, so tight.” You ride out the pleasure, rolling your hips against his, and when you’re a little looser he thrusts again, slides an arm behind yours, his hand carefully around the back of your neck, kisses you until he comes, groaning, in your ear.

You look up at him as he gathers himself, wets his lips, and you curl around him for a hug; he holds you tightly, rubs gentle palms over your body, murmurs that you’re incredible and he hopes you know that was special. It's the connection you were looking for, intimacy, and you are so incredibly happy you found it, even if you did find it in the unlikeliest of places.

You lay together for a few minutes before he pulls out, ties off the condom, takes it into the bathroom, and then you go in to pee. You look yourself over in the mirror—again, fully aware that losing your virginity changes almost nothing—but you can’t help feeling like a missing piece has locked into place.

If makes you wonder if the missing piece maybe wasn’t sex, but Hotch.

When you head back into the other room, you expect him to be dressed, or at least getting dressed, but he’s laying back on the bed, covers turned down, body still bare—what you can see of him is bare, anyway, because crisp white sheets cling to his waist, make him look only that much more delicious as he waits for you.

You suddenly ache with desire again, touch your chest at the rush of emotion, of sensation, and then you climb on the bed, slip into his lap, kiss him again. This time it’s different, because your lips and tongue are all saying what you can’t, and it’s intimate, passionate, vulnerable, intense.

Except, maybe you can say it, because he kisses back just as furiously, and it translates into something as strong as what you’re feeling, his hands on your face and lower back holding you close.

“I want you,” he whispers, looking into your eyes, and you’re panting hard, desperate for more. “Not just tonight—I want every night to feel like tonight. I know you weren’t planning for anything more than this, but if you like, maybe I could take you to dinner when we get back. We could see if there’s something more?” He looks nervous, like the offer won’t be well received, but you just nod, smile, lean close for a gentler brush of lips.

“I’d really like that. I don’t want to only feel like this tonight.”

You kiss a little more, softer, sweeter things, eventually moving from his lap to curl against his side; the two of you cuddle, talk—it’s not awkward in the slightest, just feels right, and you drift to sleep warm and content in his arms.

Maybe Miami’s not so bad after all.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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marbleheavy · 3 years

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here are some of my Nico headcanons that nobody asked for!!

He collects things. Not just Mythomagic stuff like he did as a kid, but cool shells, and rocks, and weird glass figurines that everyone else thinks are terrifying, and books. He’s got them in jars or lined up on shelves and he just has so many things (Because for so long he had so few things that actually belonged to him that didn’t have to serve a very clear purpose, so now he just wants to keep whatever he’d like)

He reads SO much as an adult. A lot of it is nonfiction because he’s trying to catch up on what happened in the world while he was pulled out of it, but a lot of fiction too (not really fantasy though, that’s too close to home) and a lot of poetry. He can recite poems from memory and will just randomly quote them sometimes and it should be pretentious but it isn’t and his friends think it’s amazing (cue dramatically saying "till love and fame to nothingness do sink" anytime he's told he has to wait) (Also, he will rant about why Ted Hughes sucks at any point in time)

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again!! He is a Dungeon Master! He’s got a binder for all the notes for his current campaign and a notebook for ideas and special highlighters and pens that he only uses for D&D. Also, dice are definitely one of the things he collects and he keeps them in those clear, plastic bead containers with dividers and they’re sorted by number of faces and also ~vibes~ (for example, do a backflip D20 and life or death D20)

leather jacket Nico di Angelo? seen, respected, and appreciated. CARDIGAN Nico di Angelo? underrated! He has a couple oversized cardigans with buttons and big pockets that he adores. The first one he ever had he definitely stole from Will but now, whenever he comes across another similar one, he buys it. The pockets are filled with rocks and worn, mass-market paperbacks and pens. (Basically, I’m leaning hard into English Major Nico with his annotated books and glasses and cardigans) (Also, cardigan Nico and flannel Will but sometimes they swap)

He definitely cuts his own hair in the bathroom and he's gotten very good at it. He's had a range of haircuts, from long hair to a mullet to the shaved sides and fluffy top, but he always ends up back with a shaggy mop that Hazel likes to put little braids in (or sometimes pull the very back of it into two little pigtails) and with bangs that always end up in his eyes.

Sorry to reiterate the same point that's been made forever, but his wardrobe is pretty dark-toned. Obviously black, but he does like a good jewel tone, perhaps a maroon or an emerald. Anything really bright was either a gift or belongs to Will someone else. Also, gendered clothing means nothing to him. He wears what he wants to wear and he thinks it's cool as hell when he's wearing a skirt while sparring and it flares out dramatically as he twirls.

He's kind of picked up modern slang but he also uses a lot of slang from pretty much every decade he missed. It's also a 50/50 chance he's using it incorrectly. (examples include: 1) Leo says something that is definitely supposed to be funny and Nico stares at him, utterly emotionless, and says "Gag me with a spoon" in an alarmingly monotone voice, and 2) Anytime he says something snarky to Jason or Percy he starts it with "hey bestie..." and honestly, they're both just touched Nico called them "bestie" at all)

He adores Studio Ghibli movies and can be found humming the Ponyo theme song anytime he goes swimming (Will standing on the shore, looking around for Nico and he eventually spots him in the water. He wades out to Nico, all sunglasses that shouldn't look so cool and golden hair and chest, and just greets him with "Hey there, Neeks, how's my fishie in the sea?" and Nico can't decide if he wants to drown himself or kiss Will on his stupid mouth)

Speaking of movies, shortly after the Giant War, all of his friends (the Seven, Reyna, Will, probably Lou Ellen and Cecil, too) showed up at his cabin with blankets and snacks. They each brought their favorite movie or movies they think he needs to see to catch him up on the modern age. At first, he acts disgruntled that they're all there but he very quickly settles into the blanket fort Annabeth constructs and is quietly very grateful and excited that they cared enough to do this for him. They're all holed up in his cabin for a full day until they've finished every movie. (Percy brought Finding Nemo, Annabeth brought Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Piper brought Scott Pilgrim vs The World, Jason brought Captain America: The First Avenger (and Nico definitely says "that's gay" when Steve and Bucky say there "Until the end of the line" shit and everybody absolutely loses their minds), Hazel also is behind on movies but she brought either a very scary movie or Moana, Frank brought A New Hope (though he considered Brother Bear), Will brought Spirited Away, Cecil brought Back to the Future, and Lou Ellen brought The Princess Bride)

He can play the piano! He gets a piano for the Hades cabin and on nights where he can't sleep and the nightmares are really bad, he plays piano.

He will cry if he hears I Will by Mitski or Wasteland, Baby by Hozier, for different reasons but also kind of not (he wants to be loved)

Also, Nico and Dionysus being buddies! Nico jokingly says he'll host a bacchanal if Dionysus excuses him from certain camp activities and that's how Nico and friends end up wearing togas around a campfire, all very hesitantly holding cups of wine they aren't actually going to drink. It is definitely not a bacchanal, it's just a bad toga party (barely) but Dionysus accepts it and decides Nico is a Good One.

(Yes I did very badly make this stupid meme that somebody has definitely made a variation of before)

This is definitely not a complete list of headcanons but it's what I've got so far!

#nico di angelo #nico di angelo headcanon #pjo #will solace #solangelo #headcanons #heroes of olympus

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yakultberry · 3 years

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✪ summary: it's no surprise that doyoung spoils you on your birthday, but somehow, he still takes your breath away. ✪ pairing: law student!doyoung x reader ✪ genre(s): fluff, college au ✪ word count: 1.5k words

✪ a/n: another birthday fic i wrote, this time for my queen @secndlife !! love you, karol 💖 or should i say horanghae ADJFLAJSDLJF anyway, this is just a little snippet of a college au that we sometimes indulge ourselves with hehehe enjoy!

“You have something on your lips, baby.”

You look across the small cafe table at your boyfriend, a small smile spreading on your icing-covered lips. “Well, maybe you should help me clean it up. It’s my birthday after all.”

Doyoung, used to your antics, just rolls his eyes as he grabs a napkin and reaches over to wipe at your mouth. “Ah, so you’re doing this on purpose,” he says with a raised eyebrow, his tone stern. But you don’t miss the subtle way his lips curl up at the corners or the way his eyes instantly soften when they meet yours.

“Maybe,” you hum playfully. Not quite satisfied with his reaction, you press on. “I thought you might have kissed it off, though. It’s more romantic, you know.”

He lets out a huff, scrunching his nose at you. “Oh, so now you’re teasing me!” Even after dating for over a year, Doyoung still can’t help feeling flustered whenever you bat your lashes at him (though he definitely exaggerates his reactions just to see you giggle like you are now). Again, he fails to hide the small smile on his own face. “Just eat the rest of your cake, we have to go soon!”

“Fine, I guess the kisses can wait until later,” you say through your laughter, only to double down when Doyoung lets out another exasperated sound. To everyone else, Doyoung is a put-together, intelligent pre-law student, expertly juggling his studies, vice president duties at the fraternity, and his personal life (that’s you). Those who know Doyoung less, might call him uptight, maybe even overbearing-- it is a common misconception of pre-law majors after all.

To you though, you know that underneath his cool, type A exterior, there is a soft, nurturing side to your boyfriend. As hard as he tried to keep up his facade, the boy never really stood a chance against you; and now, all his love simply flows out through each of his actions, constantly enveloping you in a warmth you’ve never felt before. Still, you can’t help but poke fun at him at times, loving the blush that would creep on his cheeks whenever he tried too hard to hide his affection for you.

“Should I let them know that we’re on our way back now?” you ask as Doyoung finishes up paying the bill.

“Wait no, don’t!”

Just as you pick up your phone, Doyoung places a hand over yours, his eyes wide. Your own narrow at him slowly. “...Why not?” When your dear boyfriend tries to only respond with a smile that more resembles a grimace, it is suddenly your turn to be stern. “Baby.”

“Well, I might have told Johnny and Lily that this was going to be a surprise party. Yuta and Daisy, too.”

You blink. “Doyoung, you do know that to throw a surprise party, the person has to be, you know, surprised. Also, you know I hate surprises!”

“Well yes, that’s why I told you that we’re having a party,” Doyoung explains. He takes your hand in his as you exit the cafe, simply walking up the street to get to your apartment. “I just thought it would be funny to tell Johnny and Lily that they had to go to the apartment early to decorate it before you arrive or something.”

“Oh my god.” The both of you meet eyes with mutual shit-eating grins. For the past summer, the two of you had been persistently trying to set up your two friends to confess their (very obvious) feelings for each other. As the months go on, one of your forms of entertainment has been creating situations where they could be alone. “How long have they been there for?”

“Maybe two hours?”

“Nooo, that’s probably the longest yet!” you cackle heartily, squeezing his hand in yours out of habit. “Oh god, this is why I love you.”

“I know, I know, I’m a genius,” Doyoung sing-songs, chuckling beside you.

“Wait, but if we walk in and find them making out on the couch, I will lowkey fight you,” you deadpan, only half joking. As much as you wanted the two to finally get together, you did not want to see them sucking face in your home. Where you live.

“You promise?”

“Shut up!” Your laughter echoes against the tall buildings lining the street.

The late afternoon sun streams between the gaps of the skyscrapers and washes the apples of your smiling cheeks in a warm summer glow. Although the fall semester has yet to begin, there are many young people bustling about, and your shoulder brushes against Doyoung’s as you leisurely stroll up the sidewalk. It’s moments like these that make him stop and remember how lucky he is to have someone as radiant as you.

He lifts your clasped hands to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you too, by the way.”

“Hmm, you better.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your apartment, the both of you excitedly talking about your plans for the evening up until you get on the elevator.

“I texted them we’re on the way up, but Yuta said they’re not ready,” Doyoung laughs.

“It’s fine, I already know anyway!” you say, impatient to start the night’s festivities already. According to Doyoung, he had even bought a table at one of the swankiest clubs in the city, and you did not plan on walking in even slightly sober.

“No but,” Doyoung whispers as you approach the door of your apartment. “You still have to act surprised when we go in, okay? They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“Ugh, fine!”

You can faintly hear frantic whispers and a small commotion behind your apartment door when you reach it, even making out a ‘Johnny, you can’t fit there!’ before everything seems to go still. Doyoung opens the door for you after a moment, and there is a short moment of silence before the lights flash on and streamers are popped.

“SURPRISE!” your friends cheer in unison. You place a hand over your chest in your best attempt to look shocked, though a genuine smile does spread on your face when you see them all there to celebrate with you

“Haha, say hi to the camera!” Johnny, a tall guy with a knack for photography, yells, capturing the exact moment you walk in.

Before you can say anything, your best friends, Lily and Daisy, pull you further into the apartment, which is elaborately decorated with balloons and streamers. There is even a shiny inflated ‘26’ hung on the wall. You can’t help but look at your friends with a pout. “You guys did all of this?”

“Of course we did, bestie!” Lily beams at you, clinging onto your arm. “But thank god you’re here, I was alone with Johnny for so long because Yuta and Daisy got here late.” You laugh at the dirty look she shoots over at Daisy, who simply shrugs.

“We were picking up the drinks and got a little distracted when we were on the way over!”

“Oh right, distracted--”

“Anyway, we brought tequila!” Daisy chirps, flashing the unopened bottle to you. You grin back. Your friends really know you. “Let’s get this party started!”

The pre-game starts off strong with everyone taking shots at your insistence. About three shots later, everyone is in a good mood to start getting ready to leave for the club (except Lily, who seems to already be there from the way she is dancing). Johnny attempts to copy her moves, causing Yuta and Daisy to fall over each other as they laugh loudly. You’re about to join the impromptu dance floor when you feel a hand slip into yours.

You barely have time to smile at Doyoung before he twirls you around, leaving you giggling and breathless. Then, without a word, he guides you out onto the balcony, where he pulls you into his arms. There is something sobering about the soft night air, which isn’t quite the vibe you’re going for. Your laugh cuts through the stillness of the atmosphere. “Doyoung, what are you--”

The way he is looking at you with so much affection makes your heart do a somersault in your chest. “Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers in that delicate, melodic voice of his. Suddenly, he pulls away so that you see that he is holding a large, flat case. He hands it to you, eyes sparkling excitedly. Your eyes, on the other hand, suddenly prick with several tears.

“Wh-what is this?”

“A surprise. Open it!”

With shaky hands, you open the case to reveal a beautiful, gold necklace with a simple diamond-encrusted pendant. You gasp. “Doyoung, you--” your voice gets caught in your throat. “You got this for me? It’s gorgeous, but you really sh-shouldn’t have. I--”

“Yes, I should have,” he laughs, seeing how emotional you’ve gotten. Doyoung pulls you into his embrace and presses a soft kiss to your temple before looking down to meet your eyes. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you whisper hoarsely, leaning up to peck him on the lips. You let out a sniffle. “You spoil me.”

“Of course I do, you’re my baby,” he says matter-of-factly. You giggle through your tears and hug him tighter.

And as beautiful as the necklace is, you can’t help but feel that being loved by Kim Doyoung is the best surprise present that life has given you.

#nct #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung fluff #doyoung fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

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The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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agustdef · 3 years

Text

That Couple

Pairing: Yugyeom x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: Mildly suggestive behavior.

Rating: PG-13

My Lovely Beta: @hobeemin

A/N: This is going to turn into a oneshot series. So... look out for that. LOL

“If you make me run through this again, we’re going to have a problem,” YN said right as Ariana Grande’s Positions began to play through the speakers.

The dancers behind her all nodded, but it was in the way they began dancing to the song that told her that they truly heard her. Every move was what it should have been with everyone’s own flair. They all moved where they should when they should and didn’t lose energy at any point as they performed. At a certain point, she stopped focusing on them and focused on herself as she danced with them.

Watching yourself through a mirror was a weird out of body experience, but over the years YN had gotten used to it and managed not to focus too much on her face as she watched. The mask that she wore also helped her out a great deal with the temptation that arose sometimes. Plus, she wanted to see if she herself was on par with what she expected from the others.

All that focus made the song pass quickly and then brought on the collapse of everyone, except her, onto the floor.

“And to think if you’d just done that six run throughs ago you’d already be off living your lives,” YN joked.

That earned some groans and curses from the girls, but they knew she was right. She’d only wanted about two hours to run through their performance for an upcoming concert and they’d done well until they got to Positions which was why she’d had them go over it more times than anything else.

They probably hated her a little, but she wanted to ensure they were prepared. A K-Pop group’s first concert was one to remember for everyone and could change how people saw them if they gave great performances or phoned it in. And having worked with many groups that ended up disbanding or not reaching the heights they could always made YN work harder to ensure the next group or artist did as well as they could.

And she thought that the girls she was working with were capable of greatness. Even as they crawled across the floor to grab their towels and water bottles.

YN smiled. “We’re done for the day, but I want y’all to do another run through before the day is over and twice tomorrow. Don’t repeat things, just go through the whole setlist to ensure that you have it. I know a lot of this is new choreography, so it takes a bit to sink in. But you’re doing really well.”

That seemed to give them a bit more energy and after a few more minutes of pulling it together, they packed up their things and left with promises to do as they were told. And with them and their managers gone it left YN on her own in the studio.

She didn’t mind it much and was happy to get some time to herself before she had other things to do. Especially since it had been so long since she’d had a moment to dance because she wanted to be silly for over a month. Work was a lot and she either created for someone else, taught, or danced in the background for something. By no means did she see that as a bad thing, because three years prior twenty-six-year-old Lisa struggled to keep consistent work, but it was all so tiring. By the end of most days, she ended up in bed or wanting to do anything but dance.

So, with her little window of time, she decided that was the time. YN redid the ponytail because she’d sweated and her hair got bigger, downed some water, and reapplied lotion to her elbows. The things were a darker brown than the rest of her from how often she hit them or did a move that had her pressing them into the floor. It was annoying, but not the end of the world.

Once ready she put her playlist on shuffle, turned the volume up, and got to it.

The first few songs were slower, which meant she had to adapt from all the more intense moves she’d done earlier. She was intentional and fluid with her moves, finding herself wrapped up in the music and truly just vibing. So, into it and watching herself that she ended up ripping off her mask and throwing it to the side, not even bothered by the sudden view of her full face.

However, despite the way those songs made her feel it wasn’t enough. YN needed more. She needed something that hit hard or something that allowed her to be a bit freer with what she was doing, so she stopped dancing and switched playlists to something that lacked the slower tempo songs. And the first song out of the gate rewarded her.

Ciara’s Goodies played and she danced the routine she’d learned as a kid for competitions. It was the first one she’d been allowed to choreograph herself and it had gotten her a high mark. Plus, it was just fun to fall back into something she knew so very well and thought was funny as hell.

From there it was more upbeat songs that she’d performed in the past or didn’t have a routine at all. It was just her moving however she wanted and she lived for it.

About five songs into her second playlist the door to the room opened and she almost stopped until she noticed that it was just Monster Woo and his crew of dancers plus a few friends. She simply nodded at him and continued what she was doing. None of them interrupted her, in fact, they shouted greetings and cheered her on as she went.

Until Megan Thee Stallion’s Circles came on and then as if they’d practiced for that moment two of them - friends of hers - joined in to perform the dance they’d worked on the week the song had been dropped. It wasn’t something they taught or performed ever, just something that they did for fun.

YN was so into it and having so much fun that she didn’t notice more people enter the room, let alone who was amongst those people.

And she continued to not notice as the song ended because as each new one came on there was a different set of people joining her to dance along to them. Until Bruno Mar and Anderson .Paak’s Leave The Door Open came on and then they left her there. She hadn’t met with any of them to dance to it and though they seemed to move off to the side to do something they had they left her front and center.

The song had been her love for two weeks and though her first dance moves alongside it had been a slow dance with her boyfriend, they both came up with something for it together later so that’s what she went with but solo.

Sensual and smooth was what the song was, so she matched that and found an easy groove in it. She was so into it that she barely looked into the mirror and almost missed the approach of someone behind her. However, she saw a hat fly and her gaze met theirs in the mirror.

He saw her the moment she noticed him and smiled, something she returned despite her still dancing along. Not that he left her alone for long, just as the last line of the pre-chorus hit his arms were wrapped around her waist and he helped her spin to face him.

Though YN felt a flutter in her stomach as she looked up at him and wanted to stay there for a while longer she didn’t. They moved into the next moves with ease and danced what they’d come up with in perfect harmony. Albeit while probably being a little too intimate with the moves.

Not that anyone complained.

“Get it Yugyeom!”

“Yes, YN! Yes.”

And other encouragements were yelled out as they danced and even after they finished.

YN was used to them being like that when she did anything remotely sexy, especially when Monster Woo was in the area. The man enjoyed trying to make her blush and had succeeded a few times, though only usually when Yugyeom was present and dancing with her.

And that time was no different. The final position was similar to the move that Yugyeom had joined her with, but their faces were much closer. And since she could feel his breath on her face and could see the way he smiled at her she couldn’t help the way her cheeks burned. Though that kind of went out of the window once Yugyeom leaned down and kissed her lips. YN returned it with enthusiasm and only pulled away when she grew tired of the gagging noises.

After they were apart they moved to the side to let the others continue dancing to whatever played. Yugyeom laced their fingers together and didn’t let go even when they’d found a place to stand.

“I thought you would have been gone before we got here,” he said.

She shook her head. “No. Something got moved and so I don’t have anything until later and it’s just me recording the moves for another group plus a few errands.”

For a moment Yugyeom pouted, which was beyond cute, but it confused YN.

“What’s wrong?”

“You left me alone in bed this morning. Didn’t even give me a kiss goodbye.”

The pouting intensified after that and YN laughed, throwing her head back a little. She’d been in a rush to get to work and he’d gotten to bed late so she’d let him sleep in. But she was being wrongly accused.

“Just because you weren’t awake for the kiss, does not mean the kiss didn’t happen. I gave your cute little lips multiple kisses before I left. You just didn’t wake up for any of them.”

That made him flustered, the pout vanishing as he fought down a smile and looked anywhere but at her. YN loved doing that to him, though she knew he would get his revenge on her later.

“That -” Yugyeom started only to be interrupted.

“So, you do have a thing for older women,” Jay Park said.

Just from hearing his voice, YN rolled her eyes, but then when she turned to face the little intruder she couldn’t help but do it again.

“It’s literally a two-year difference,” YN said.

Jay waved her off and focused on Yugyeom who’d gotten a little shyer about things when he was being confronted head on. It didn’t help that it was Jay and Loco who were staring him down.

“You could have just told us it was little YN, man. We know her. She’s cool people,” Loco said as he reached out to lightly poke YN’s cheek right where her dimple rested. A habit he’d gotten after he stopped gushing about how deep it was.

“I told you I was going to tell you at the end of the week. It’s not like I was keeping it a secret. We were just going to tell people outside of those who know at our own pace.”

“GOT7 knows? JYPE staff?” Jay asked.

Yugyeom nodded and that made Jay frown, but he didn’t say anything and before anyone could break the weird silence Blackpink’s Pretty Savage came on, and just like that YN was gone to dance again.

That left Yugyeom watching on again and YN threw him a wink every so often since they’d changed the choreography up quite a bit and that left for more sensual moves.

#kwritersworldnet #noonasinnetwork #yugyeom x reader #kim yugyeom x reader #yugyeom fluff #yugyeom fanfic #yugyeom au #yugyeom x black reader #yugyeom x poc reader #kim yugyeom x black reader #kim yugyeom x poc reader #kim yugyeom fanfic #kim yugyeom au #got7 fanfic #got7 fan fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Note

I love your writing! Can you please write a piece where y/n has been a friend of him for years (all one d years too) and she is famous as well (kinda maggie rogers vibe) they write songs together etc. After the heartbreak from Camille she is always there for him and they realise that they have always been in love with each other, a bit of angst ofc 😂 Thank you very much!! 😍😍

A/N: Thanks so much for the request and the kind messages when I was sick, @irelilien. I loved writing this. I know it’s probably not EXACTLY what you were thinking, but I hope you like it!! <3 <3 <3

Warning: ANGSTY ANGST ANGST!!!

Word Count: 3,961

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Started Off As Friends

“Will you relax, Harry?” you laugh, scooting to the edge of the office chair where you sat, reaching over and grabbing Harry’s hands away from his face to reveal his scrunched up eyebrows and dramatic frown, something he always did when he was frustrated. You took hold of his forearms as he pouted and tugged on your arms, making the wheels of your chair roll closer to him, your knees touching and his forehead falling towards your stomach.

Honestly, he could be such a baby sometimes. But as your hand instinctively plopped onto his head, running your fingers through his curls and massaging his scalp, you couldn’t help but smile. For years it had been like this; you and Harry were inseparable since the day you met. Back then he was still in One Direction and you just helped them write songs. You were one of the youngest songwriters on the team and they were impressed by it. Eventually, you began to release some of your own work, and when Harry went solo he often called on you to help with some of his songs, most of which always ended up on an album or being released.

You were there when his fame kicked off. He was there for you when you lost a family member. The two of you hardly even had so much of a fight, more like little bickers here and there. You were there through all of the One Direction drama including when you and Niall had a brief but scandalous (and absolutely not true) rumor spread that you were secretly dating and eloped, something Harry would cry laugh over whenever it was brought up. After all, if there would be any rumors of secret relationships between you and a member of One Direction, it would be with Harry. You were the closest out of all of them. You two had been through a lot in your friendship. More than most. And that included heartbreak.

You’d met practically every girlfriend he’d ever had. You knew details of his relationships that you really didn’t need to know about. And you’d been the subject of many jealous fights. But he’d always have your back. Until Camille.

Everything started great. You thought things had been going so well between them and Camille seemed to really like you. Oftentimes you’d get together just the two of you and have a girl’s night. But everything changed the night of one of your concerts. You were playing in London and the couple came to support. Throughout the night they had a lot to drink and each time you looked down things seemed to get increasingly more tense between the pair. Towards the end, it looked like a full-blown argument had ensued and they both stormed out of the arena. You assumed they were just going to talk it out and would meet you backstage afterward. You assumed Harry would fill you in on all the details later. But hours had passed and everyone had already backed up to leave. It wasn’t like Harry to just leave without saying anything. You called and texted but got no response. Not until the next day.

‘So sorry for leaving like that. We’ll talk later. -H’

But you never did. He practically ghosted you, only getting brief, cryptic texts or calls at random points in the day. The emotional circle-jerk you went through was next-level. Confusion, anger, sadness, indifference, and back to confusion. It was a never-ending cycle. You had later come to find that he only talked to you when Camille wasn’t around. And if she found out you were in communication, another argument would ensue and you’d hear about it whenever Harry called to complain. That’s all it was; a few calls and texts to whine about his relationship until the texts and calls stopped altogether. You hadn’t even seen his face for nearly seven months. For the longest time, you wanted to cry. You felt betrayed.

And finally, a month ago, after seven months of waiting, you had decided you were going to let him go and stop waiting around for him. But, when your phone rang at 11 PM that same night, your toughness crumbled to the ground. You had half a mind to yell and let it all out, or to just hang up, but you couldn’t. Not to him. Not when his heart was breaking. Instead, you invited him over. You must have drunk two whole bottles of wine by yourself, listening as Harry cried about his breakup and catching you up on all the issues they had. And you helped him through it.

For weeks he stayed with you so he didn’t have to be alone. You’d distract him with movies and games, stay up all hours of the night listening and reassuring him. You’d cry with him, laugh with him, and eventually, you’d help him channel his feelings into music. The two of you had written more songs than you can count about Camille and he finally had a sense of what he wanted his new album to sound like, picking a selection of songs on a demo and bringing it over to get your thoughts.

Listening to it brought on its own type of heartache for you. You remembered writing some of those lyrics with him. You remembered how broken you felt having to act like nothing was wrong and you were just happy to have him back. But the truth was, you were still hurt. You never did find out why he left so suddenly in the first place and coming back to you after all that time felt more like a slap in the face than anything. He knew you’d welcome him back with open arms He knew he could take advantage of your friendship because he knew how much he meant to you. Or, at least, he had an idea.

By the end of the demo, Harry looked so unsure that you were almost certain he’d start to freak out and second-guess himself. He rolled his head on your lap so that his cheek was against your thigh and groaned, “It feels like it’s missing something. Maybe I should have added ‘She’s Flames’.”

You shook your head as he sat up, “No. It’s perfect.”

“But what if-”

“No,” you cut him off, looking deeply into his eyes, “I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single word, not a single piano key, not a single song, not even a single song order. Harry, it’s perfect.”

He relaxed his shoulders, letting his lips twitch upwards into a smile, and when he finally spoke, he took her hands in his again and said, “What would I do without you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, slipping your hands back and spinning in your chair to face your computer again, clicking away at the screen and layering instrumentals on your own music you were working on before he came over. Having a little makeshift studio in your flat helped when you couldn’t get in any time at a proper studio.

“Probably sulk at your own house instead of mine,” you mumbled, trying your best to sound like you’re joking.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he whined, switching seats to a roller chair next to you.

You ignored him and continued to work while he talked beside you about possible release dates for his album, cover art, and which songs he wanted to have as his singles. You listened, adding your input where needed, as he carried on, grabbing your phone off the desk beside you and entering in your passcode. You didn’t mind, it was something the two of you always did. There was never any malice or reason behind it, it was just out of sheer boredom. You’d often scroll through each other’s social media dashboard or pictures. You had nothing to hide. Or, so you thought.

You became so hyperfocused on what you were doing that you almost didn’t hear it. It blended in with what you were working on so much that the sound of your voice singing from the speaker of the Harry held in his hands almost went unnoticed. But by the time you realized what he was listening to and snapped your attention to him, the damage was already done.

The knife of insight tore its way in me

A brash collision without sympathy

And maybe when the sun goes down I’ll come round, I’ll come out

Maybe we could take some time,

Unwind, figure out

When the knife of insight tore its way in me

Hit me up if you’re feeling down

Give a little, oh we’ll figure this out

Keep me up, keep my mind around

After dark, after light

Let it go if you want get loud

Make a little fuss, oh its all allowed

Beautiful how it all pours out

After dark, after light

Oh the knife of insight brought me to my knees

Broke me down and taught me how to see

And I know and I know and I know

That maybe we should take some time

Get this out, make this right

Maybe when the sun goes down I’ll come round, tell you all about

When the knife of insight brought me to my knees …..

You were at a loss for words, caught off-guard by him finding that voice note of a song you had recorded late one night three months ago. You could hear the wooshing of cars passing by in the background, remembering you recorded it on a drive to meet up with friends for dinner and didn’t want to forget the wave of creativity. Funny thing was, you completely forgot all about it.

You searched his face, hoping he didn’t understand what you were singing about But Harry wasn’t stupid. He’s worked with you long enough now to know your writing style. And with one look at the time stamp of the recording, he could tell this was written in the thick of when he had stopped seeing you.

“What’s this?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

He knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an explanation, though. For weeks you had thought about what to say or how to confront him for what he did. But confrontation was never your strong suit and all the rehearsed speech had suddenly vanished from your memory.

Quickly, you grabbed your phone out of his hand and shut the music off, “Just something I was working on. Forgot it was still on there.”

He watched as your body tensed, hastily shoving your phone in your pocket. He could see right through your nonchalant attitude and he pressed again, “Is it about me?”

“Harry,” you breathed, forcing a laugh. But your refusal to look him in the eyes was your tell.

“It is, isn’t it?” His question sounded more like an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“How you felt,” he turned your chair so that you were forced to face him and you looked nervously up at him through your eyelashes, his expression sincere, “Obviously you were hurt about whatever I did.”

Your mouth fell and he seemed to realize almost instantly that he had a poor choice of words. But, before either of you could say anything, Harry’s phone began to ring on the coffee table, catching both of your attention. And by a cruel coincidence, you saw that it was Camille calling him. His eyes widened and hastily silenced his phone, but the damage was done. You let out an incredulous laugh and stood up.

“It’s getting late. I think it’s time for you to leave,” you said firmly, avoiding his gaze.

You heard him stutter. He wasn’t used to you being stern with him. “What? Why? No, please, let’s talk about this.”

“Talk?” You laughed angrily, “You want to talk? Now? That’s rich coming from you! Alright, Harry, let’s talk, then,” your words were like ice and your heart pounded, finally getting the courage to look at him as you let it all out, “Ten years you’ve been one of my best friends. I’ve done so much for you. I’ve put up with a lot being your friend. All the backlash and drama and spite from your horrible girlfriends. But you always had my back Until her,” you motioned towards his phone.

His eyes fluttered, listening to you get angry. It was a side of you that rarely showed. And when your voice began to crack, he gulped.

You continued, “I was always nice to her. Always. Until one random day, she decided to hate me for no reason. And what did you do? Nothing! You ran after her like a lost puppy and avoided me for almost a year!”

“I didn’t avoid you!” Harry shot back, defensively.

“You didn’t avoid me?” you laughed in a hiss. “Harry, you dodged all of my calls and texts! I never saw you! And when we did talk, the Queen herself couldn’t know about it or you’d have another fight!”

“Don’t call her that. That’s not fair,” he pleaded.

“You want to talk about fair? The way you treated me wasn’t fair! All I was to you in those seven months was someone to complain to, but only if I was kept a secret!”

“That’s not true. Besides, it’s not like you ever complained at the time! You should have said something!”

“I shouldn’t have had to! You’ve always had my back and ended things with other girlfriends for a lot less!”

“I can’t keep ending relationships just because you don’t like them!”

“I never asked you to!” your voices were getting louder now, almost certain that if someone was passing by your open window, they’d be able to hear every word. “Never once did I ask you to break up with anyone or even hint at disliking them. You always did that on your own!”

“Because you’re my friend!” he shot back, his eyebrows furrowing and the crinkles by his eyes more prominent. Your back and forth was quicker now. Both of you speaking even faster.

“Then why did it change with her? Friends don’t treat friends as a last resort!”

“How did I treat you like a last resort? Because of a few missed calls and canceled plans? I was busy!”

“For seven months? No, you weren’t, Harry! You were a coward!”

“And you were jealous!”

“So what?” you snapped back. You could see the shock in Harry’s eyes, but you kept going, “So what if I was? It never made me treat you like dog shit on the bottom of my shoe! You ignore me for weeks at a time and when I finally get a response it’s because you’re crying about another fight you had with her and how neither of you trusts each other. Did I complain once? No. I listened. I never turned my back on you because that’s what a good friend does.”

“That’s what a good friend does? So now I’m not a food friend?” Harry scoffed, “I can’t read fucking minds, Y/N! How am I supposed to know you’re upset if you don’t tell me?”

“How am I supposed to tell you if you never answer my calls?!”

“I came back!” Harry yelled, “I’ve seen you almost every day for a month! You’ve had plenty of time!”

“Did I?” you sneered, “Harry, you were heartbroken about your breakup! What would you suppose I do? Tack on some more reasons for you to feel sorry for yourself? Cry about how you were mean and broke my heart? You didn’t need me getting after you! I recorded an idea for a song on my phone, and now you’re mad because I expressed my feelings in a song that you were never meant to hear?”

“You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, Y/N!”

“You think you could have handled the added guilt?” you should back, bordering the edge of condescension, “I helped you write two albums worth of breakup songs about her, Harry! I sat here for hours a day every single day for weeks helping you write lyric after lyric explaining your love for a woman that hated me!” you were on the verge of tears now. “And here I am, the idiot helping you through it, only to find out you’re still talking to her!”

“I’m not talking to her! I called to ask if I could put something in a song!” Harry shot back, “And she didn’t hate you!”

“How can you not see it?” you breathed, wiping a tear from your cheek, “I have to watch a man I care so much about going through shitty relationship after shitty relationship. And I’m here, like always, waiting for you to wake up and see that you deserve better! You can’t even admit what you did because you’re too busy defending a girl that broke your heart!”

“I’m not defending her, Y/N! I’m sorry that I hurt you, but it’s not her fault! She didn’t hate you, she was just jealous and untrusting and she had every reason to feel that way!”

Heat rose to your face and your voice got more fierce, “I always treated her with respect! And I never gave her a reason to feel that way!”

“You didn’t, but I did!”

“What does that even mean?! Why would she hate me for something I didn’t even do? That doesn’t even make any sense, Harry! You avoided me for months and you’d argue if she found out you were talking to me, and you’re saying that it had nothing to do with me?”

“No. I mean, yes. Kind of,” he started to get flustered and began talking faster, “It was my decision, not hers. And I’m not defending her. I wanted to talk to you, Y/N, but I couldn’t!”

You were getting angrier. It felt like you were going around in circles with Harry and you were frustrated that he wouldn’t give a direct answer. “Why? You keep beating around the bush instead of just giving me a reason! What possible reason could you have for dropping a friend of ten years out of nowhere? I didn’t do anything! So, why?”

“Because I accidentally told her that I’m in love with you!” he blurted out.

His voice was loud and perturbed. But as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he might have just made a huge mistake. Harry never meant to tell you. He was perfectly happy with keeping this a secret for as long as it took to get over you.

You froze, sitting backward and raising your eyebrows, mouth ajar, “You what?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he spoke quickly, trying to justify himself, “We were drunk at your concert and, I don’t know, it just kind of came out and we started arguing. I didn’t even realize what I had said until the next morning when she was still angry.”

The memories of the night of your concert came flooding back. Images of their slowly fading happy faces turned to anger and fighting started to make sense. But what he was saying didn’t. He was in love with you? Surely he didn’t mean that. He showed no inclination of romantic feelings towards you. There had to be a misunderstanding. What he meant to say was ‘he loved you like a sister’.

When you didn’t speak, he continued to try and explain himself, hurriedly speaking again; something you hardly ever saw from him. Usually he was calm and cool, even when faced with uncomfortable situations.

“I tried to tell her I didn’t mean it and I had no clue why I said that, but she didn’t believe me. She kept saying ,‘I see the way you look at her’ and ‘Everyone knows it. I’m not stupid!’. So I just kept telling her she was crazy and started talking to you less and less to prove her wrong. But she never trusted me after that. And whenever she found out I was talking to you, it gave her more reason.”

“I-” you tried to speak, but he just kept talking, more unsettled now, “I kept trying to tell myself it was nothing. But when we broke up, the first person I thought of was you. I knew you were probably angry with me, but you helped me anyway. You were there for me like you always are. And I knew that Camille was right. It was always you. And honestly, I hated you for it.”

You recoiled, surprised as he started to get more agitated. He continued, “You were there since the start of it and you made me set this impossibly high standard for my relationships! That’s why they all failed miserably! That’s why they all hated you! Because they knew they couldn’t live up to you!”

“You’re blaming me for this?” you argued back, “I didn’t make you compare anyone to me! I didn’t even know because you were too chicken shit to say anything to me!”

“I couldn’t say anything to you! You were my best friend! I didn’t want to lose you! Those few months we didn’t talk were hell! I thought about you every day! Besides, what difference would it have made if I did tell you? You can’t honestly tell me you felt the same!”

“Stop assuming you know how I feel!”

“Well, am I wrong?!” he shot back, seething.

“Yes! You’re wrong!”

There was silence, the two of you just staring at each other, faces filled with frustration. His eyes flickered across your face, looking for some kind of sign as both of your chests rose and fell. His tongue grazed his lips, wetting them from all the yelling. And like the flash of light, both of you lunged forward at each other.

The mess of hands wildly roaming each other’s bodies and tangling in each other’s hair was dizzying. Hungrily, your tongues circled as if you were starved and the only salvation left was his breath entwined with yours. You both stood, only to be pushed backward on your desk, your keyboard slipping out from under you and crashing to the floor. You could feel your back press against your monitor as you eagerly fidgeted with the buttons on Harry’s shirt and before you could undo the last one, he had already managed to undo yours, pulling it down your arms and tossing it somewhere to the side.

Harry became impatient, finally pulling away from your lips and tanking open his shirt, making the last button pop off and roll underneath the desk. You for your first good look at each other; panting, out of breath. Half-naked, you could see every tattoo on his chest that you had always longed to kiss under the dim light of your flat and the veins in his arms bulged as he gripped onto the desk underneath your thighs. His eyes looked fierce and almost rabid as he looked you up and down. There was a moment of pause and thought. Slowly the two of you cracked a smile. And the smile turned into light laughter.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Harry whispered, pressing his forehead against yours and weaving his fingers through your hair just behind your ears as the warmth of his palms lay flat against your cheek.

You smiled, closing your eyes and placing your hands over top of his, breathing in his scent as you softly spoke, “Probably just as long as I’ve waited for you to do it.” And you gently pressed your lips to his once more.

------------------------------------

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans

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inhale-fandoms-exhale-asdfghjkl · 4 years

Text

Highlights of the 10umentary for me:

Brian’s special boy song

Everyone hugging. Most precious thing in the world! (I also wish I could hug everyone in Starkid)

Brian’s commentary about hugging. Actually Brian’s commentary in general is amazing.

Joey, Darren and Dylan hugging “combine your bodies to become one”

Nick trying to pretend like he’s not stressed is me always.

Brian talking to the guy in the next car who thinks he’s talking about Star Wars. “People in LA are so nice”

“Here’s Diane. Diiiiannne. She doesn’t care” a queen.

“Well I’m not finding a DAMN thing at forever 21” 😂

“Yeeah baby” - Nick is so precious I cannot.

Nick and Jon dancing at 9:42-9:45

Darren is such a sweetheart

Classic Darren missing his line 😂

“I haven’t seen a lot of people in a long time” Same Joe. Same.

Omg Britney on FaceTime 🥰

Bonnie gushing about seeing everyone again. Ahhh 🥰

Everyone jamming to “make the most of it”

Omg Carlos I forgot about he was here for this. How dare I? Ahhh 🥰

Carlos: “I decided to come incognito. You know I didn’t want anyone to recognise me on the street so um you know I tried not to advertise myself or what I do”

Also Carlos: drinks from a The Flash water bottle as he says this.

The chaoticness of Carlos and Britney trying to sing together on time on FaceTime

“Is this unusual for Starkid” “no this is how we do all our shows”. At least they’re aware on how chaotic they are.

Darren is literally seems like one of the most confident people ever so hearing him talk about how he’s intimidated by AJ and Clark is crazy to me but I love it. Again, he’s such a sweetheart.

DARREN AND DYLAN HAVE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR 20 YEARS? HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS? I live for this friendship.

Jaime crushing them vocals 😍 not that she ever doesn’t bc she’s a literal queen!

“That’s what happens when you lock a bunch of people in a rehearsal room and sing about bugs and... Batman”

Everyone gushing about Jim Povolo. As they should.

Just a random side point but Brian’s editing skills really don’t get enough credit. All of his bts videos have done consist of him picking one thing to just continuously play throughout the whole video which is probably just from his love of repeating any bit for as long as possible until he exhausts it. Like Nick going “I don’t have time for that”. My favourite instance of this is the AVSR bts with joe saying “it’s a funny scene” and the sunglasses over Corey. Anyway, excuse my rambling. I love Brian, okay.

Nick’s dancing montage is cinematic perfection. 24:30-25:20

Richard, lily and Jim forgetting to come in for going back to Hogwarts 😂

“We just have to make sure we know what we’re doing”. Has Starkid ever known what the hell they’re doing?

Tyler fucking up his line 😂🥰

“They’re doing Voldemort is going down? Nobody likes that song” 😂

“Did you guys hear it’s the 10 year reunion” “yeah Liam”

Joe having no fucking clue what his lines are and people just assuming he’s doing a bit is just classic Joe Walker.

“This feels like an awful fever dream. A nightmare” - Also known as the year 2020.

“For those that know me, I think I and other people make fun of me for being verbose but I’m very particular... especially when dealing with Starkid. I want it to be concise and genuine.... I haven’t been in a Starkid show in a long time so it’s nice to be able to be back” I stan a man whose aware of how extra he can be. Also have I mentioned he’s a sweetheart?

“Darren’s speech was too verbose. It has been cut down for time” Brian cutting like half the speech is so savage and I love it.

Everyone jamming out to tgwdlm is a mood

“Honestly, the Brant Chant is one of the most humiliating things that will and continues to happen in my life and the fact I already had to experience it once in this run is uh-” “I MISSED THE BRANT CHANT!?!” “It already happened” “FUCK”

“It’s consistently traumatising and a highlight for everyone else except me” poor Brant! 😂

“I think everyone just loves Brant and it happens naturally”. Same.

I saw Joe Walker Interlude come up on the screen and my first thought was “I don’t know what’s about to happen but I just know it’s gonna be great”

“Horrified audience members”

Darren recording and high-fiving everyone 🥰

“I remember very distinct first impressions of people and it’s mainly by what they eat” y’know, I might start doing this.

“Joey Richter showed up with a subway pizza and I was like you don’t do that”

Lauren Lopez pulled out over her purse just a sweet potato that was pre-cooked with no toppings. Just a shriveled pre-cooked potato” - she honestly sounds so traumatised from this 😂

Nick’s bee sting story 😂

Everyone else: admiring the fan art. Brian: “What the fuck?Where’s Superman/Junior/Flopsy?”

“YOU CANT PUT LUPIN IN IT!?” I’m sorry Brian, we all know that you’re characters are iconic.

“WHAT THE FUCK!? Oh I wasn’t in this one”

I don’t know why I laughed so hard at Darren in the background of Joey talking about his drink but it’s hilarious.

Joe having a five minute warm up song that no one else is allowed to participate in is just peak Joe.

“I cried last night but I won’t do it again” - aww I love you Nick 🥰

Meredith really is just a ball of sunshine isn’t she? I love her. I feel like I don’t talk about her enough.

“It’s been ten years and we finally learnt how to put on a show”

“What’s weird about how it’s been is how not weird it’s been. If that makes any sense” no it doesn’t Nick but we love you anyway.

This video is really just an AJ and Clark appreciation video and I am here for it.

The SKH version of to have a home is my fav version of it so I’m crying a little.

BONNNIIEEE!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

“Who knows, if America survives and the world is still habitable in the year 2029, maybe we’ll see you for the 20th” this made me laugh and cry

Liam’s got a phone call is such a bop honestly.

Also I love all the new starkids having no fucking clue about this song but just vibing with it anyway.

I literally love Starkid with my entire heart and I am so thankful for them releasing this bts finally because I needed it big time.

#starkid #starkid homecoming #10umentary #sk10 #avpm #avps #avpsy #mamd #starship #twisted #ani #trail to oregon #tgwdlm #black friday #firebringer #hmb

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

Tracing Time

Disclaimer that I am not a therapist nor bipolar but I have had a therapist so I’m hoping it’s not too awful of a depiction. Also want to add a minor content warning for the ending scene for homophobia, nothing explicit or even verbal, just a woman with an icky vibe.

Wednesday, 16:04

Song: Haux - Youth

Sander tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the fan in the corner. It drones in slow circles, doing little more than disturbing the air right in front of it. It still makes the air in the room chilly enough that Sander is glad he’s wearing a sweater, though.

Between it and the window is an ‘abstract’ painting of the brain. Abstract in that the supposed organ is actually scattered in pieces throughout the canvas, all in various states of destruction. One has trees growing out of it, for example. Another is on fire; it’s Sander’s favourite.

He’d stared at it with an absurd sort of fascination in his first session, almost two years ago now, and his therapist, Agathe, had simply smiled at him and asked if he liked art. It was a sneaky way in, but he supposed that was the point. These meetings have gotten fewer and farther apart over that time, now that he can supposedly manage himself to a high enough standard on his own. Well, not quite enough, he supposes, or he probably wouldn’t be here at all. He can practically hear Agathe’s rebuke that they are just ‘casual check-ins’, and Sander is free to go whenever he pleases.

At every one of those reminders, Sander debates doing exactly that—getting up and going. Instead, he usually ends up slumping sullenly for a few minutes before Agathe prods her way back in.

They haven’t been mandatory in a long time, these sessions, but now there’s just something...reassuring. There are still times he doesn’t bother making an appointment, but knowing he can, and knowing that someone with the right knowledge doesn’t see any reason to worry about him, leaves a pretty damn good sense of relief.

And he did have a bit of a blip, at the start of the year. A few days in which he had to be prodded and coerced into just taking a drink of water, and had spent the majority of in his room. It had overlapped the holidays, so he’d let Robbe come and cocoon himself with him for a good chunk of the time.

It hadn’t made him better. But it made him...safe, or something similar, and that was the most he could hope for.

It was the coming-out-of-nowhere aspect that had shaken him a bit. He’d felt better, just keeping up his sessions then, being sure that he was at least doing alright with his medication. It’s working okay, the sitting and talking, so he shows up and just lets Agathe keep making sure.

The door cracks open now and she slips back in, dropping into the couch across from Sander and shooting him her usual calm, too-happy smile through light lipstick. It brings out her dimples. She’s not yet marred by wrinkles, but there’s something soft and aging about her face, anyway. Maybe it’s the graying roots. “Sorry about that, I forget this thing way too often.” She holds up the clipboard she’d carried in with an exasperated sigh, murmuring under her breath as she flicks through it and gets settled.

It’s all painfully familiar. It makes Sander smile.

He does like her. He’s never bothered denying that.

“So, how are we today?” It’s the same way she always starts, though it’s usually accompanied by—ah, there we go—clasped hands and another smile.

“Good,” Sander says. It’s automatic, but he also means it. Today is fine. It’s good.

She raises her brow when he doesn’t offer anything else. “Alright, good. Belated birthday wishes are in order, I believe?”

“Yeah, thank you. Just yesterday.”

She nods, and Sander does not think about how that was dumb when she obviously already knows. But she just settles back and crosses her legs. “Did you do anything to celebrate?”

Sander’s lips finally stretch in a smile of his own. He thinks it’s probably a little dopey, a little lovestruck, and she probably knows exactly what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. “I had breakfast with my parents because Robbe took me out for dinner. Then he had a surprise party planned at our friends’ flat.”

“A party on a school night?” Agathe’s brows raise, and she shakes her head with a small laugh. “How do they deal with that today?”

“No clue,” Sander breathes out a huff of his own, trying not to feel overly amused by how Gilles had been in the class they shared with Sander earlier in the day. For once, they hadn’t said a word, just sat with their head down for the entire lecture, wincing every now and then when Sander laughed. He hadn’t even heard from any of the others, but Robbe had looked dead on his feet this morning, as well. He’d sent Sander a slightly sunnier selfie about half an hour ago, though, so he’s probably fine. “Not very well, I imagine.”

She tilts her head. “You seem well enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t drinking,” Sander shrugs.

At this, her serene little smile returns and her nod seems approving, and even though Sander hadn’t been looking for it, he grudgingly admits that it feels good. ��I know that can be a difficult choice, and I’d rarely be able to make it myself,” she laughs again. “It’s great that you feel strong and comfortable enough in that group to do your own thing.”

Sander can’t help a little snort. “Are you kidding? It was one of them that had me drinking mocktails.”

“Really?” Agathe grins.

“Yeah, but then he got kinda drunk, and the last couple he made me were just disgusting because he thought these awful mixtures would be a really good idea.”

She laughs gently. “Well, it seems like it’s not the worst. ‘He’ isn’t Robbe?”

Sander shakes his head. “No, but one of his friends.”

“And what about Robbe, then? How is he?”

“Good.” A soft smile steals over his face. “The best, as always.”

“Treating you well.”

Sander’s smile widens, and he raises his brows without saying anything.

Agathe points at him. “Not what I meant, and not what I need to know.”

“I thought we can talk about whatever I want in here,” Sander says innocently.

“Alright, then,” she acquiesces. “Tell me all about it.”

Sander blanches. He thinks about it, opens his mouth, and then thinks about it some more. Closes his mouth again.

Her smile is downright devious. “That’s what I thought.”

He huffs. “It’s very healthy, just so you know.”

“I am sure.”

“Explorative. Always consenting, of course. Frequent.”

“All very normal and well for teenage boys,” she nods, and it would be completely serious if Sander couldn’t see her eyes twinkling. She pauses. “Although, I can’t call you that anymore. How does it feel to be twenty?”

Sander narrows his eyes. “Nice change of subject.”

“Oh, if you had more to say, please continue. Just a thought that occurred to me, I don’t mean to steer you, you know that.”

He does know that, and it makes him pause, because. How does it feel to be twenty? He realises he hasn’t thought about it. He realises that’s probably a good thing—that he didn’t get stuck on his birthday this year, that it was something he just enjoyed. Maybe it was simply going to sleep next to Robbe that helped, but no anxiety had taken over at the end of the day.

Even after his conversation with Jens. It’s not the most prominent part of the day of Sander’s mind even now. Instead he finds himself tucking his hand into his pocket and grasping Robbe’s key, running his thumb over the already familiar ridges.

He hadn’t even been worrying about his major fuck-up with his assignment. He’s still not.

He’s not really giving himself the chance.

Should he be?

“It feels the same as being nineteen,” he says finally. “I didn’t become a different human in a day, sadly.”

He can see her latching on. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“‘Sadly’?”

“It’s just...a joke.”

“Okay. But why do you think it’s funny?”

It annoys him, because she’s not judgmental. She’s neither amused nor disappointed. Just curious, earnest, all focused and attentive as she gazes calmly, patiently at Sander. Even his attempt at throwing her off, making her awkward, hadn’t shaken her. She remains unfazed, as always. It’s annoying.

“I don’t,” he admits, “I guess. I don’t know what I’d consider it.”

Agathe nods, softening in her understanding, and it makes something twist in his chest. “Are you not happy with the human you are, Sander?”

He gives her a bland look. When she keeps waiting, he shrugs, gesturing at the room.

“I know,” she says gently, “that of course, you feel you would be happier without your illness. But who you are now—what you study, what you’re passionate about, who you surround yourself with, how you live your life day to day. Do you wish all of that was different?”

Sander doesn’t have to think about it quite as much. “No. But I—“

He cuts himself off, hesitating. She raises her brows and nods, prompting him onwards but not pushing. If he really wants to wait her out, she’ll move on.

“I just wish that it was easier,” he says.

She tilts her head. “Easier how?”

“I messed up. At college. I completely missed an assignment because I mixed up the dates with another one.”

She winces in sympathy. “And what happened in that case? Does that mean that assignment is marked as a fail?”

“No,” Sander admits. “He gave me the time I thought I’d have to do it. Marked it down as an extension. It’s due on Friday now.”

“And is it going alright?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t struggling with it too much?”

“No.”

“Then it seems like a fairly simple mistake. Easy to make and also, thankfully, easy to fix for you. It’s not unusual. But do you see it as an effect or consequence of your illness? Is that why it bothers you?”

Sander is quiet.

She sets her clipboard aside and leans forward, clasping her hands again as she considers him. “You have to remember, Sander, that all humans are not without fault. That regardless of who we are or what we may have to deal with, we will inevitably make mistakes. Not every slip up is a reflection of you, or a sign of failure, of failing health. You’ve actually been doing very well for a long time, now. But this belief, or this worry, that it is taking a hold of you again can sometimes help it take on that direction. Do you know what I mean?”

He takes a moment to absorb the words before nodding, knowing that if he answers too quickly she won’t believe he’s listening. But he does know. He understands. He hates that she’s probably right.

“So in a situation like this,” she continues, “do you not think, that it is more beneficial for you to focus on correcting your mistake and the fact that you have that ability? Not only mentally, but overall. That your professor is so understanding must mean he thinks well of you.”

He shouldn’t ask. He does anyway, quietly. “You don’t think it’s just pity, or something?”

“No,” she huffs. “No, I do not. Did he give you the impression that that was why he was doing it?”

Sander rolls his shoulders, adjusting his position. “No.”

Her smile returns. “I think,” she says slowly, “that this all shows just how well you’re doing. That you can acknowledge your doubts are likely just that—doubts—and that you take responsibility when you mess up and try to rectify it. Do you not think those are all good things? Things just as healthy as your sex life?”

It shocks a laugh out of him, and he sees her eyes crinkle. “Maybe,” he allows. “But it really is very healthy. I don’t know if anything else should be forced to live up to the standard.”

She represses a smile. “I remember there was a time when you would never have even spoken about this in such a kind way.”

She’s right. It still freaks him out, sometimes, the hypersexuality that can be induced by his mania, and it even made him hold back from Robbe after his episode, at the beginning. The last thing he wanted was to freak Robbe out, or disgust him, or make him uncomfortable. Then Robbe had seemed downtrodden for about a week before hesitantly asking Sander if he’d done something wrong or if Sander wasn’t actually attracted to him, and Sander had corrected his doubts and behaviour fairly quickly, because how dare the most beautiful boy in the universe think that?

“How do you feel you’re doing, Sander?” Agathe asks. “Because although I can observe, only you can feel what you feel. If you are genuinely worried, we can talk about it.”

“No,” Sander admits, after a moment. “I think everything is okay, actually.” Which is the best it can ever be, really.

Now her smile is genuinely happy. “I think so, too. And I think, even if it comes about that it’s not, you have a better support than ever. Do you agree?”

That one’s easy. “Yes.”

“It’s important to remember,” she adds, “maybe more than anything else, that if a lapse or an episode or whatever does occur, it’s not the end of the world. It’s also not a reflection of you, or a failure. Bad days, bad weeks, that’s all a part of life, and something we know you’re more than capable of dealing with and getting past. I’ve watched you do it many times before now and it’s an admirable, wonderful thing.”

Sander doesn’t actually know what to say to that. He just swallows, and feels oddly emotional, and offers her a slight nod.

The rest of the session passes in a lighter atmosphere. She lets him ramble about his assignment to alleviate what stress he does feel over it, and they spend the leftover minutes discussing his party.

Sander considers talking to her about the other thing on his mind, but ultimately decides against it. She’s already taught him how to work through that, and he really doesn’t think it will help to be putting it back into open air. Instead he leaves with a fairly upbeat farewell, and heads in the opposite direction from home.

Robbe had texted him about where he was meeting with Yasmina for a study session, and it takes Sander less than ten minutes of walking to get to the small cafe from his appointment. He sees the two of them as soon as he enters, but neither of them notice him, so he moves to the counter to buy himself a coffee before making his way over.

He’s a couple of feet away when Yasmina catches sight of him and offers her bright smile, and then Robbe is looking over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Sander greets them both, grinning as he cups Robbe’s cheek and leans down to kiss the crown of his head. “I can see we’re very busy.”

Robbe has his hand wrapped around Sander’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away. He turns his head and presses a sweet kiss to Sander’s palm, nuzzling lightly against it. Sander lets his fingers slip over and tug gently on the boy’s earring before Robbe tangles their hands together and offers Sander his crinkly smile. “Hi.”

“Not anymore, I guess,” Yasmina says dryly, but she’s still grinning when Sander glances back at her.

He raises his hands; well, his free one. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hadn’t, really, he’d just wanted to be here when they were done to take Robbe home. He always likes being in the other boy’s company after a therapy session. Despite them not being quite so heavy at the moment, it’s always draining. Robbe is always able to replenish him with soft touches and soothing kisses, providing Sander with a silent, comforting company.

“Don’t be silly,” Robbe rebukes, predictably, swinging Sander’s hand idly now. “How are you?”

Sander squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m surprised you look so healthy, though.”

Robbe groans and buries his face against Sander’s arm. “Don’t. I’m suffering in silence.” He tilts his head ‘subtly’ at Yasmina.

Yasmina raises her brows at him, somehow managing to look wholly unimpressed and teasing all at once. “At least you can stave it off with sugar and coffee.”

Robbe has the sense to look sheepish, ducking his head in a nod. “You’re right, sorry, sorry.” He lets out a sigh. “You’re on too high of a level for me, Yasmina.”

“Queen shit,” Sander agrees, just to earn one of the girl’s unimpressed glances for himself. “Should I run now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just sit down and drink your coffee. And keep your hands to yourself, if you can manage it? I still need my study partner, thank you.”

Sander grins and obeys, swinging a seat from the next table around to join them, dropping into it happily. He doesn’t place it as close to Robbe’s as he’d like, but Robbe leans into him for a moment anyway before refocusing his attention on his friend.

For the first while, Sander is content to listen and sip his coffee, feeling tiredness begin to creep into his bones. He lets his head loll against his own shoulder, trailing his eyes over Robbe’s profile and drifting into a sort of daydream. He can see the boy’s lips moving, but he has no idea what either of them are saying. They only let out the occasional comment, trading questions and answers and sighs and mutters. Robbe’s eyes are still red and a little puffy, a sign of his lingering exhaustion. He rubs at them absently as he looks down at his book and lets out another sigh, and leaves an eyelash on his cheek.

Sander reaches out and gently swipes it away with his thumb, an entirely mindless action that has Robbe looking at him in surprise before breaking out into a smile. He catches Sander’s hand before Sander can withdraw it completely, laying it on the table next to him. Instead of holding it, Robbe runs his hand along Sander’s sleeve, rubbing the soft seam between his fingers as he continues his work.

For some reason, it makes Sander blush. He’s sure his smile is unbearably happy, and he flicks a glance at Yasmina just to make sure she doesn’t know, only to catch her eye. She’s already smiling at him, and she purses her lips and raises her brows, teasing. Sander pulls a face at her, and she simply shakes her head as her smile widens.

“Can you work on your assignment while you’re waiting for us?” Robbe questions suddenly, drawing Sander’s attention back with a tilt of his head.

Sander glances at his bag, which he’s carried with him all day since he had to go straight to his session from a class. He considers for a moment but ultimately shakes his head. With yesterday being an exception, he usually prefers working at night—and when it’s not cutting into time he could otherwise spend admiring Robbe. “I’ll work on it when I go home,” he promises. Then, because he can’t help himself, “You’re too distracting.”

Robbe’s grin is small, and exasperated, but he yearns towards Sander, leaning across the table. Sander meets him and presses a quick kiss to his lips, then his nose, his cheek, before resolutely sitting back and waving at the textbooks and notes strewn in front of them. Robbe’s grin turns into a pout for half a second before he squeezes Sander’s wrist and focuses again.

Sander sinks back with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of Robbe’s fingers brushing against his wrist and skimming his hand, but he doesn’t feel quite as settled. There’s a prickle skittering over his neck, and he looks to his side and finds a woman staring at him.

Her nose is screwed, and there’s a vague curl to her lip. The disgust in her expression only heightens as Sander meets her eye and she flicks her gaze down to where Robbe’s hand rests over his. Sander can only stare back, dumbfounded.

When she looks at his face again, he raises his brows, as utterly bored as he can manage, and it only takes a moment for her to look away and get out of her seat across the cafe.

Sander tenses as she gets closer, hand enclosing around Robbe’s entirely, but she merely offers him another look before leaving. He deflates, squeezing Robbe’s fingers. It’s only when Robbe squeezes back that he panics again and quickly looks at the boy. But Robbe is in the middle of asking Yasmina a question, neither of them having noticed a thing.

“I meant to wish you a happy birthday,” Yasmina says, breaking him out of the moment. His mind has fogged over, and it takes him a moment to process the words. By then, she’s already moving on. “How was the party, anyway?”

Robbe and Sander share a look, and Yasmina waits. “Jens hardly said a word to me the whole day,” Robbe tells Sander, but he seems more amused than upset, so Sander allows himself to laugh.

“You didn’t tell him we didn’t actually do anything?”

“I did!” Robbe raises his hands. “He didn’t believe me.”

“What, what did you do to Jens?” Yasmina asks, confused. Then, after a second, “You know what, no, I probably don’t want to know.”

She cringes, and Robbe apologises profusely as Sander bursts into laughter, the weird incident from moments ago already forgotten.

Totally forgotten.

~^~

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#wtfock #sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time #had to have yasmina in here at some stage!

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xiaomomowrites · 3 years

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Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: “Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?”

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Or; Zhongli struggles to define what exactly “home” means to him.

Find it on Ao3!

This part takes place between act V and Zhongli, Come Down. I know I posted this series totally out of order, please forgive me for my lack of organization :,D

A/N: First of all, I finally have a beta reader!! She’s helped me through the process of writing this and I’m incredibly thankful for her support. I accidentally made her cry with this fic though, even if it wasn’t necessarily sad?? Regardless I appreciate her feedback haha.

Oh my, I feel like I’ve been writing these two being really soft for too long. After this, I really need to face the music and write these two fighting. The time has come. They won’t be in the honeymoon phase forever!! I’m gonna vibe check all of you.

Also, do yourself a favor and listen to the songs Home by Michael Buble and Sparks by Coldplay after or during you read this. You’re welcome.

Lastly, you can find me on Twitter @/xiaoscribbles where I’m extremely active and talk too much about Genshin. I love making friends there!

Enjoy <3 -u.n.

Zhongli never had a place to call home.

Or rather, he never bothered to find one of his own and commit to it.

He was always too mobile, too nomadic. He had places to be, people and adepti to see, contracts to see through. Zhongli never found himself settling into one place for too long. Sure, when he was Rex Lapis, he had nested many times. He was a beast whose presence was too large to be confined into one space, so he would glide to the highest mountain in Liyue with ample space for a dragon like him, and settle. Zhongli remembered how he would make it as comfortable as possible for himself using all kinds of things he would pick up on his travels. A deep purr of satisfaction would rumble through him as his scaled belly would make contact with the coolness of the earth, and Rex Lapis would allow himself to relax against the stone, body sinking as if he were weightless. Although, no matter how he shifted, tossed and turned when he tried to rest, something was always missing.

Even the familiar feeling of the Liyuan ground was not enough to fill the void in his chest.

It was satisfying, sure, but never completing.

Hence, his lack of understanding of the human desire to settle down in one home for the rest of their short, yet meaningful lives.

Were they not itching to get up and go somewhere else? See the world? Appreciate the land beneath their feet in all its entirety? Zhongli failed to comprehend. Even an ancient being like him fell short in understanding the idea of a “home”.

Well, what consisted of a home, anyway? Four walls and a roof over their heads? A kitchen filled with food? A soft bed with layers and layers of sheets? What was the meaning of all that, when the true beauty of the world was beyond those four walls, high into the sky, and deep beneath the sea? What kind of pleasure could possibly come out of being domesticated?

Nevertheless, Zhongli did make an old promise to try to understand humans as they were. So sure, Zhongli supposed he could appreciate the art of architecture. He saw how hard people worked to build these beautiful houses with intricate designs to maximize safety for the residents excited to inhabit them. It was endearing, Zhongli thought, how enthusiastic humans got about a house. The idea of settling down with their loved ones would give them so much serotonin, so much drive. It was inspiring to him. Zhongli had always hoped that one day, he could feel the same way about someone.

So why couldn’t bring himself to understand the joy in this “home” everyone spoke of? What was he missing? Was he missing the duvet? The one thousand thread count sheets? Was he missing the fine China he saw peddlers selling on roads far from town? Because he had tried his best, living in his mortal form, to find the simple pleasure in decorating his home.

But no matter what he did, no matter how many throw pillows he placed on the couch, he simply could not deny the gaping hole in his chest when he went to bed at night. He had reached a point where even cooking for one every night upset him so, and he would go to bed disgruntled and hollow. The vast margins left on the king sized bed in the middle of the night kept Zhongli awake. Though he did not even need sleep, he had tried his best to form what the humans called a “proper sleeping schedule”. Apparently, according to Hu Tao, sleeping at four in the morning and waking at seven for work was “not suitable”.

But in truth, what was he supposed to do? Pray tell, what could he possibly do to absolve the issue of the chasm growing in his chest with each passing night?

“Xiansheng!” A jovial voice snaps him out of his reverie.

Zhongli looks up from his mundane paperwork to see a familiar head of red hair bounding toward him languidly. Oh, what a sight for sore eyes.

“Childe,” he greets, “did you pester Miss Hu Tao into letting you back here again?”

“Pester?” Childe brings a hand to his chest to mock his hurt, “I hardly have to bother her to come back here. A simple ‘you look fantastic today’ is always my ticket in.”

Zhongli scoffs fondly. “How can I help you, Childe?” He sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, amber eyes following the Harbinger curiously.

“Well your break is in ten minutes, so I figured I’d come grab you for lunch at Wanmin?” Childe plants two hands flat on the cherry red oak desk and leans forward into Zhongli’s space. There’s his signature teasing smile spreading slyly across his face, the one he knows Zhongli won’t be able to resist.

Zhongli hums in approval. “Sure, let me just wrap up this last form and I should be ready to go shortly.”

Childe drops down to his elbows in response and rests his face between his palms. “You sure? We could just go now, you know. I got Hu Tao consulting Ying’er about the new fragrance for the next hour or so.”

Zhongli leans forward and meets him in the middle. “I must be responsible, Childe. If my lunch break is at noon, then I will not leave my post until then.”

Childe pouts, jutting his bottom lip out cutely in an attempt to convince him otherwise. Zhongli, immovable as ever, simply leans forward and captures his lips between his own. The Harbinger makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and presses closer, positively humming when the ex-Archon reciprocates. But the older man is quick to get back to work, pulling away as quick as he came, but not before he nips at Childe’s bottom lip. The ginger whines petulantly at the loss of contact.

“Have a seat, Ajax.” Zhongli speaks, a hair’s width away from kissing him again. Childe grumbles, but agrees regardless. He seats himself in one of the plush armchairs located in the corner of the office and makes himself comfortable for the next ten minutes.

Zhongli readjusts himself in his seat and picks his pen back up, glancing back down at the form he had already completed. He blinked owlishly at it. He must have finished signing it while Childe was talking without realizing what he had done. Regardless, he moves onto the next document to peruse silently. Mid sentence, he scoffs playfully, shaking his head at the thought of the ginger distracting him so. Is he even surprised at this point? Not even a little bit. The ginger has an incomprehensible hold on his heart, one that he doesn’t really want to shake off.

“Something funny, Xiansheng?” Childe teases from his seat. He’s reclined in his chair, relaxed, head lolling against the cushioned headrest. His eyes are closed and his shoulders are drooping into the leather. He’s relaxed, for once, and the thought of Ajax allowing himself to let his guard down in his presence makes Zhongli’s heart thump happily in his chest.

“Not particularly,” Zhongli pushes himself up with a groan. Goodness, his joints are getting tired. He pads over to where Childe is seated and forcefully makes room for himself on a chair that is clearly made for one person. Childe lets out a surprised yelp at the sudden intrusion but scoots over to make room, anyway. Zhongli makes himself comfortable by angling his body to where it’s being cradled by the junction between the armrest and the back, and opens his arms as a silent invitation.

Childe takes it happily and launches forward to burrow into Zhongli’s chest. He rests a gloved hand over his heart and snuggles closer, inhaling the deep scent of silk flowers and leather. Zhongli’s arms come around to strap him against his chest, gloved hands petting his sides as he presses a kiss to red hair. The contact immediately vanquishes the discourse in his mind. He squeezes him tight for good measure, forcing a grunt out of his Tartaglia.

“Xiansheng,” he calls.

“Hm?”

“You’re working too hard again.”

“Am I?” He questions absentmindedly. “And here I thought I was pulling my weight just fine.”

Childe snorts. “Pulling your weight? You know I make enough for the both of us. You could retire and stay at home, relaxing and reading books, or whatever it is you do at home.”

Ah, there it is again.

Home.

For the second time that day, Zhongli is struck with confusion.

“What is home to you, Childe?” He asks, voice soft and far away. Childe frowns against his chest in confusion.

“Home?” He parrots.

“Yes, home. What is ‘home’ to you, Tartaglia?”

“Hmm,” the Harbinger hums, tapping a gloved finger against the ex-Archon’s chest idly as he speaks. “I suppose home is Snezhnaya. Home is what I grew up in. The unbearable cold and the old cottage house. Ice fishing with my siblings, massaging my mother’s back. Those things are all home to me.”

Zhongli ponders. Of course that is what home means. Familiarity, yes? So, technically, his home was Liyue. The hustle and bustle of trade by the harbor, the loud sizzling woks at the food stands, the loud marketers on the street that work hard day and night, the enthusiastic story tellers spewing exaggerated lies— that was all home to him.

So why, then, was Zhongli still dissatisfied with this conclusion? Home should obviously be Liyue. He created this land with his own two hands. Gave people the very drive that keeps them alive today; he gave the idea of mora and fair trade and economic prosperity. He’s watched countless faces pass him every day, every year, every century. He’s seen new faces, young faces, old faces, familiar faces, too, the ones he had seen on older souls. Reincarnated souls. Zhongli knew those souls. He’s had dinner with many of them on multiple occasions.

And it was no secret that Zhongli was well known in his hometown. Every business owner was familiar with his eloquent way of speaking and ambitious ways of buying. With the arrival of Childe, every business owner all but doubled their enthusiasm now that Mister Zhongli finally had a means to pay. People knew Zhongli, they adored him. They admired his amber eyes and long, beautiful hair, the ends of it looking like it had been dipped in melted mora. When he walked, people’s eyes followed. They would stare longingly at his beautifully crafted coat, his single earring, the fine leather gloves that cover his deft hands, and they would admire the way he walked with purpose, and with fire. A confidence so set in stone, it was almost difficult for one to even approach Mister Zhongli. For so long, he was considered Liyue’s most handsome bachelor, until of course Tartaglia came along and swept him off of his feet, capturing his attention in a way no one else could ever imagine imitating.

Yet, despite all the attention his people lavished upon him, there was always a nagging feeling of isolation nipping at him in the back of his mind. Despite creating the very ground beneath their feet, he simply felt like he did not fit in. Only when he was with Tartaglia did he truly feel like he belonged anywhere. It was rather inexplicable. There was something about the way Tartagali’s presence wrapped around him with a level of tenderness he had never experienced. It covered him like a gentle embrace, welcomed him without judgement, and loved him without expecting anything in return. The thought of Ajax himself made Zhongli’s heart swell

Speaking of which, the said man was now pressed tightly against his chest tracing lazy patterns into the fabric of his coat. Their long legs were tangled where they were dangling off the seat, with Tartaglia’s foot rubbing affectionately against the older man’s ankle.

Oh, how far they have come.

“But,” Tartaglia suddenly interjects, jolting Zhongli out of his thoughts. “If my family were to come here to Liyue to stay, then I suppose Liyue would be home, too.”

Zhongli hums. “Naturally. I’m sure they would find the variety of houses here in Liyue nice and peaceful, perfect for a new home.”

At that, Childe lets out a light laugh. “Honestly? They could live in a cardboard box in Inazuma, and I would still call that home.”

Zhongli frowns. Well now he’s even more confused than when he started. Since when was a cardboard box a suitable home for a human? It completely lacked all the appliances the houses here in Liyue had. Why would Childe settle for that? He of all people was aware of the love he holds for his family, there simply was no way he would call that a suitable home for his family.

“I don’t understand,” he says instead, “a cardboard box, Tartaglia? You do not strike me as the type to settle for such an...unbecoming home. Especially for your family.”

“No, no, Xiansheng,” the Harbinger chuckles, sitting up slightly so he can look Zhongli in the eye. “I was just exaggerating. And, home isn’t always supposed to be a house, you know. Those two things can be mutually exclusive. Maybe not all the time, but, definitely most of the time.”

Well this was certainly new. Now he truly did not understand what it meant to have a home.

“Apparently I do not know.”

Childe sits upright to look down at the ex-Archon.

“Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

Childe is aware he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Once he starts talking about his siblings, he simply cannot stop. “It wouldn’t matter where I was if I couldn’t hear my siblings from the other room. If I didn’t wake up to Tonia’s loud blow dryer every morning, or if I didn’t hear Anthon trying to talk to her over the blowing, then it isn’t home. If I can’t hear Teucer’s footsteps coming toward me asking about a new Mr. Cyclops toy, it isn’t home. Not to me. But like I said, it’s different for everyone.”

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Childe pushes himself up and off the chair, stretching and yawning obnoxiously. “Great,” he replies once his jaw finishes unhinging itself from that yawn, “let’s eat, I’m starving.”

—

To put it simply, Zhongli rethinks his definition of home all night. After he gets home from his dinner date (Tartaglia tugged on his sleeves until he agreed to leave his shift early in favor of a new restaurant that had popped up recently), he closes the door behind him to take in the composition of his home. Tartaglia had been the one to pick out most of the furniture, so although it lacked many of the traditional Liyuan decor Zhongli would have furnished the place with himself, it had a nice touch of Tartaglia everywhere he went.

His couch, for example, was a deep mahogany leather that stayed cool to the touch despite the hottest of summers. Zhongli’s dresser was nice and tall, a deep chestnut brown cut from the forests of Snezhnaya to match his bed frame. His bed was elevated by an incredibly grandiose four post frame that hung a beautiful golden translucent curtain all around the bed, draping the perimeter and creating an ethereal atmosphere for when he sleeps at night.

(“It’s kinda sexy, don’t you think?” Childe had asked one day, while he was pondering which bed frame to buy for his boyfriend. Not that he needed to, considering Zhongli finally has a stable salary, he just wanted to.

“Ajax,” Zhongli had said disapprovingly, “what about it is sexy to you?

“I don’t knowww,” the Harbinger hums, “maybe it looks like I would feel like I’m on cloud nine when we’re, you know…”

“You can say sex, Ajax, I believe in you.”

“Oh stop that!” Childe whacks him playfully with the catalogue, “I’m being a good boyfriend and getting you a beautiful bed frame cut from the finest oak tree and sheets woven with high quality silk! You could be nicer to me, you know.” He’s pouting, and he knows it. Zhongli’s eyes soften.

Zhongli shakes his head, laughing. “You know you don’t need to do that, you know.”

“I want to,” Ajax persists, “this is your first actual living space as a mortal! I want it to be perfect. I refuse to have my boyfriend, who is a literal god, sleeping on a bed with no bed frame. Unacceptable.”

Zhongli smiles and watches him as he continues to ramble about all the different bed frames he could buy. Oh, his love for this boy knows no end.)

The hints of Ajax everywhere he goes is how he keeps himself sane each night. His possessive urge to be around him every second of every day (courtesy of being a dragon deity his entire six thousand year life span) is soothed with the smell of him on his sheets and the extra toothbrush by the sink. One of Tartaglia’s scarves is folded neatly on the arm of his couch, and during those nights where he truly feels Ajax’s absence, he’ll hold the red fabric close and breathe the scent in deeply. The smell alone is enough to rock him to sleep on some nights, but on others, it simply is not enough. On those nights, he finds himself reading book after book about Snezhnaya culture until he passes out from exhaustion.

One would think that it would be better for them to just live together. Given that they spent every second outside of work with each other, even going so far as walking the long route home just to avoid saying goodbye, a person would look at the way they held each other close in public and think that they’ve been married for quite some time already.

But alas, they had agreed to take their relationship slow in the beginning. The both of them had much to adjust to, given that one of them was a notoriously fierce Harbinger, and the other was an ex-Archon adjusting to the world without his gnosis. They both had complex schedules that they were much too familiar and comfortable with to just up and leave for another person. There was a certain period of time that they had agreed to spend apart, well, as “apart” as they could be, before they decided to do anything drastic, like move in together.

There was too much to consider, anyway, Zhongli reflects as he gets ready for bed. Would their living habits even align? Would Tartaglia even be a good roommate? Would he take out the trash responsibly? As much as he loves the ginger with his entire heart, he doesn’t think he could do it for long if Tartaglia was the type to walk around with shoes on. Such an act should be considered illegal, anyway.

Waiting was the right thing to do.

Right?

The nights Tartaglia spent with him were the nights he could sleep a full, uninterrupted eight hours. They were the nights that Zhongli felt himself truly relax into the sheets and sink into a blissful sleep, knowing his beloved was being held impossibly close. And if nighttime was therapeutic for him, mornings felt ethereal. The mornings where he rose with the sun to be met with the sight of Tartaglia next to him were the mornings he felt like he could fly again, and soar through the open Liyue skies in his rawest form forever, so long as Tartaglia was with him.

In fact, more often than not, Zhongli thought about the way it would feel to have Childe by his side as he explored the skies again. He would think about the way he would have to strap him down, nice and close so he doesn’t fall off his back, and then take off high into the sky. Not too high, lest he accidentally give his boyfriend a heart attack, but high enough to hear those delightful shrieks Childe will let out when he’s excited. He thinks about the way Childe could grasp onto his mane for security, hands threading through golden locks, legs tightening around his torso to avoid falling. Oh, he thinks about this a lot.

But, waiting was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted was for Childe to feel uncomfortable with the pace that their relationship was going and make him uneasy. Besides, just because he was a possessive dragon at heart, it didn’t mean Ajax was willing to cater to his needy tendencies. So, he promised himself that he would create a reasonable distance between them for the time being.

Why then, did he hate this distance with every fiber of his being?

Why is the distance so unbearable, especially at night?

Why is he so unsettled with the very few miles between them? It’s not like Zhongli is in Liyue and Childe is in Snezhnaya. Tartaglia is literally only at the inn.

Yet he craves nothing more but to be close to him at all times. Zhongli’s skin itches with the desperate desire to feel him by his side when he goes to bed, when he wakes up, and all the moments in between. Does that make him clingy? Maybe. But old habits die hard.

Zhongli huffs and looks down at his flattened pillow with disdain. No amount of fluffing will restore it to a state that is suitable for his likes. Even the elegantly woven silk night robe wrapped around his body offers little to no comfort.

He glances at the clock.

It’s only half past midnight. If all went well with Tartaglia’s shift, he should be home now, fresh out of the shower.

Without thinking twice, Zhongli throws together an overnight bag and rushes out the door.

—

“Coming, I’m coming,” Childe calls to the incessant knocks at his door. The knuckles continue to rap against the barrier, though, and Childe’s fingers itch to summon a water blade in the case that things go south. Considering that there is rarely anyone that would dare to disturb him at this time of night, Childe would say his precautionary measures are reasonable. He had summoned an angry water god, after all. It was only a matter of time before the angry mobs got to him.

The knocks sound again, and Childe angrily ruffles his hair against the towel. If they could just wait one second, he could answer the door with dry hair, but no. Peace was not an option, apparently, and neither was a perfectly fluffed head of hair.

He stomps toward the door and swings it open, ready to scold whoever had—

“Xiansheng!” He startles when he sees Zhongli standing in the doorway, donning a simple black t-shirt tucked into high waisted pants that were loose and slightly flared at the bottom, and his feet were covered by simple strappy sandals. Childe vaguely remembers purchasing those pants for him when he had mentioned wanting more loose and liberating clothes. The ex-Archon looks good like this. He looks… impossibly soft. Vulnerable, almost. There’s a distant look in his amber eyes that has Childe mildly concerned, though. Childe tries to ignore the sudden urge to protect him to his last dying breath.

“What are you doing here?” He sidesteps and reaches out to drag his boyfriend in. “I thought we had already discussed you sleeping so late! I know you’re an adeptus, you don’t require sleep, blah blah blah, but still, you—“

“I missed you,” Zhongli stated so matter of factly. “I wanted to see you. So I came here.”

Childe gawks at him and closes the door slowly. So he had just walked all the way here?! At this hour?! Goodness, the audacity—

“Xiansheng,” he whines instead, dragging the older man into an embrace. He wraps his arms around his neck and presses his cheek into his hair. “You can’t just say those things. It’s impossible for me to love you more.”

Zhongli holds him with desperation, welcoming the hug so enthusiastically that Childe knows there’s something to be said.

“Can I stay the night?” The adeptus asks once they pull apart.

Childe looks at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t even need to ask! Go, make yourself comfortable. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner?”

Zhongli drops his bag by his side of the bed and takes a seat, still watching Childe with careful eyes.

“I’ve eaten,” he answers carefully. “I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable at… home… so I came here.”

Childe frowns, and joins him on the bed. He flips the covers open and clambers in, resting back against the headboard. “Not comfortable? Is something wrong with your place?”

“Maybe,” Zhongli tries, “I really don’t know. Frankly I’ve been conflicted about… many things… recently, and I feel as if I have reached an impasse. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Zhongli,” Tartaglia says, suddenly serious, “how come this is the first time I’m hearing of this?” His voice drops an octave, the worry seeping into his tone.

Zhongli reclines and rests against the headrest, too. “I did not know how to express my troubles to you, mainly because I’m having trouble defining it myself.”

Well, that’s fair enough. Tartaglia can’t find it in himself to be mad at that reasoning.

“Well,” Tartaglia begins, reaching for Zhongli’s hand and hugging his arm to his chest. He scoots closer and uses Zhongli’s shoulder as a pillow. “Why don’t you just start rambling and maybe it’ll come to you.”

“I think I have a vague idea, actually,” Zhongli adjusts himself to make himself more comfortable for Ajax. The both of them find themselves staring up at the ceiling as they converse. “Remember when I asked you what ‘home’ means to you?”

“Of course,” Tartaglia answers. Oh, he has an idea of where this is going.

“Well, I’m unsure of what it means to me.”

Bingo.

“What it means to you?” The Harbinger asks, craning his neck to look up at him. Zhongli hums, affirmative.

“Yes, I’ve been struggling to define the term for myself. I’ve been observing others much more closely and how they define their own home, but I’m afraid it has made me more confused.”

Tartaglia juts out his bottom lip in contemplation. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli takes a deep breath, a long explanation at the tip of his tongue. Tartaglia braces himself, as he usually does.

“Today you told me home was your family. Miss Xiangling told me home was her father, and the smell of their kitchen. Young Xingqiu told me his home was within whatever book he was reading, even describing it as his safe space. And Miss Ningguang, most peculiar of all, had told me home was when she was out at sea, but only when Captain Beidou was by her side. Mind you, I had fully expected it to be the Jade palace, considering the built it from the ground up.” Zhongli rambles, “and I just found it strange how so many humans find different definitions for the word home. Such a simple word, too, so imagine my surprise when I discover it’s true complexity.”

“I’ve encountered many things in my life, Ajax. I have met so many people in this lifetime and watched them grow, watched them die, and even watched some be reincarnated. But I think…” he trails off, and the warmth in his eyes glimmer as he reaches an epiphany. “I think I am struggling to define the term because I have never been presented with the idea of stability. Things are always changing. The world around me continues to warp and I have noticed, in my time so far, that humans find the need for stability and reassurance because of the nature of their short lives. That is where I am lacking.”

—

Try as he might, Tartaglia takes slight offense to his statement.

Lacking stability? The thought was bitter on his tongue.

Was… was Childe not enough?

No, no, he forcefully derailed that train of thought, he came here tonight because you’re the only thing he can rely on in his life right now. Show him that.

“Well,” Childe starts carefully, and thanks the stars that his voice is steady. “What about me?”

Zhongli makes a confused noise. “What about you?”

“Do you consider me as a stable thing in your life?” Childe prods, digging his cheek deeper into his shoulder.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Zhongli snorts.

Childe unironically feels an ache in his chest. He stills against Zhongli. Ouch.

Luckily, Zhongli is at least able to pick up on his sudden discomfort, and he’s quick to follow up his statement.

“You misunderstand, Ajax, you being wildly chaotic is a beautiful thing in and of itself.” Zhongli gently pries Childe off his arm to look at him directly. As expected, Childe is upset. He’s got the same glassy eyes he always dons when he’s upset, but doesn’t want to admit it, and his bottom lip is red and obviously bitten in an attempt to keep himself from feeling unreasonably angry.

“Oh,” Zhongli coos at the sight, “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine,” Childe blinks hard, “I’m just being dumb.”

“You’re not being dumb,” Zhongli is quick to negate his self-deprecative tendencies, “I must have come off very harsh just now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Childe thumps a fist against his chest, “it’s fine, really.”

“As I was saying,” the Archon continues, “nothing about my life so far has been stable, Ajax. Things are constantly changing. Time continuously flows, and it simply does not wait for any man. Unfortunately, I have seen many people come and go. And unfortunately, one day you will become one of them--”

“Zhongli stop,” Childe interrupts him. He’s angry, now. His brows are furrowed and there’s an evident frown on his face. There’s a slight scowl across his lips where there used to be a precious smile just moments ago. “What the hell?” He asks angrily.

“Ajax,” Zhongli scolds softly, “it would be in your best interests if you let me finish.”

“Well, not if you’re just gonna talk about death,” Childe retorts. He’s aware that he sounds childish, but such a topic is not to be taken to lightly. Especially when it revolves around him, and what he would be leaving behind. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

“Whether or not you’re stable, whether or not you’ll be here forever, you are the most important thing to me, probably ever.” He speaks with a certainty that makes Childe shiver. “You are the first person in a very long time that has made me want to try to grasp at the fleeting seconds I have with you, Ajax. You drive me crazy. And I love you for it, because never in my six thousand years have I had as much fun as when I am with you.”

Dammit, Childe is crying now. Zhongli has such a way with words, how could he not? Dating him is just one, huge, glorified emotional rollercoaster. Zhongli brushes a stray, reluctant tear away with the pad of his ungloved hand.

“Frankly, stability is overrated,” the ex-Archon smiles at the soft giggle that escapes his beloved’s lips. “I have found, albeit slowly, that I would rather have someone loud and rambunctious than someone slow and settled. That is my role, if anything. There simply cannot be two of us, can there?”

A soft “no” is huffed as laughter from Childe. What a boring relationship that would be, truly.

“But if it is stability you seek, Ajax, let me be that for you. Let me be here, solid as stone and steadfast. Let me be the pillar of strength you need to turn to in times of trouble. Okay?” He brushes a knuckle gently across his skin.

Childe makes a sound that sounds a little broken and a little delirious. “When did this become about me, Xiansheng?”

“To me, it’s always been about you,” Zhongli smiles fondly. Childe feels as if he’s been shot in the heart.

Childe gives him a shaky smile and nods. He can’t seem to control his heart at the moment, so instead, he says, “You’re my home, Zhongli.”

The gears seemed to finally click somewhere in Zhongli’s chest. The hollow feeling inside suddenly swelled with a sense of nostalgia, bringing with it a feeling of peace and serenity. Zhongli’s eyes widen, and the ex-Archon looks down at Childe with a sudden air of solid certainty. Childe almost shrinks at the intensity of his gaze.

“Of course,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Of course it’s you.”

“What?”

“How could I be so blind?” Zhongli cups his face with both hands, and Childe reciprocates by placing both palms on his wrists. Confused, but following along. Cor lapis eyes stare straight into his soul, unforgiving as it digs deeper and deeper into what makes him whole.

“Xiansheng?” Ajax asks, dazed by the intensity of Zhongli’s stare. God, his eyes are so golden.

“It’s you, Ajax,” for once, his voice cracks and he loses composure, “you… are home. You are home. To me, that is my definition of home. I only ever feel-- I only ever feel like I belong when I am with you. It was so obvious, and I--”

“Zhongli,” Ajax gently pries off the hands cupped around his face. His heart can’t handle this right now. It’s too much. He’s too in love, he needs to do something or he’ll explode. He stares directly into those beautiful, mesmerizing golden eyes. Ajax cradles Zhongli’s hands in his own, petting over his knuckles, when he asks, “Marry me?”

His eyes widen comically, as if they weren’t already the size of saucepans with his first epiphany.

“Oh.”

So that’s what he was missing.

“I know we said we would take it slow, and I know I’m young, or whatever” Childe begins to ramble, “but fuck going slow, Xiansheng, it’s been months and all I want to do is go to sleep with you next to me. I know what I want and it seems like you do, too, but if I misread that then--”

Zhongli hushes him with an incessant press of his lips against Childe’s. It is a loving kiss, yes, but it is filled with a desperation that only the both of them understand. It is a kiss that is so different from the others; one full of certainty and ambition, a kiss full of overwhelming commitment. The longing behind the contact is an answer in and of itself, but he pulls away to speak regardless.

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against Childe’s, “yes.”

That night, Zhongli finally comes to the conclusion that home does not have to mean four walls and a roof. It doesn’t pertain to any kind of fancy kitchen appliances, or four post bed frames. Zhongli quickly learns that it doesn’t have to be about a place, and all the stories it tells. It’s not even Liyue, the very land he built himself. It has nothing to do with any of that. In fact, the sheer ridiculousness of Zhongli’s inner conflict has him rolling.

Instead, it has everything to do with the red head beneath him. It has to do with the way he calls his name in the middle of the night, claws his hands down his back and juts his hips forward, desperately seeking friction. Home has everything to do with swollen lips, red from being kissed, cheeks hot pink from the heat slowly filling the room, and strong thighs clenching and unclenching around his waist. Home has to do with his precious Snezhnayan soulmate.

Simply, home is Ajax.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #tartali #zhongchi #chili #tartaglia x zhongli #childe x zhongli #character study #zhongli struggles a lot...#childe #tartaglia #zhongli #rex lapis #help i want what they have

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bbdaydreams · 3 years

Text

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Two: How Do You Feel?

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

—————

The moment you were allowed to leave the auditorium you made your way back to your dorm. A couple people would stop to congratulate you on your win, some being complete strangers. They were nice and thoughtful but right now you weren’t in the right mindset to interact with others. You held your trophy close to your chest so it wouldn’t get damaged but also draw minimal attention mumbling a quick “thank you” from time to time.

“Y/n!” Tendou called your name when you were made it to the building that your dorm was located. You turned to face him and waited for him to catch up. When he made it to you his first instinct was to wipe your tears. “C’mon, no more tears,” he said softly before opening the door to let you in first.

When you made it to your dorm Tendou made his way to his spot on the edge of your bed while you set the guitar case down and put the award somewhere on your desk. Walking to your bed you immediately threw your covers up before getting under them and cocooning yourself with them.

Tendou met you about halfway through your first years when you interrupted their practice to drop something off for Semi. He didn’t know his friend had such a pretty friend. When you asked for Semi he immediately started his teasing which left you blushing, a look that Tendou found entertaining.

When you started getting closer with Semi, you also became more aquatinted with his friends as he did with yours. At first, you definitely thought Tendou was quite the oddball but you were quick to accept him as he was, it’s just Tendou things.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” the redhead spoke.

“I don’t get it. I thought we were closer than this. I don’t know what I’m more hurt by, the fact that he didn’t ask me to be his date or the fact that I had no idea he was even seeing someone.”

“I didn’t even know. Hell, even Wakatoshi was surprised when it wasn’t you he was asking!”

“God next week is gonna be so embarrassing,” you said now burying your face into your pillow.

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“We have our stupid dance next week! And we have that dumb dinner we all agreed to go to before we went to the stupid dance! Everyone is gonna have a date but me! Reon is going with his girlfriend, Ushijima has his date, Semi has miss mysterious, you have your date-“

“I don’t have anyone,” Tendou quickly cut you off.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you turned to look at him. “Why don’t you have a date?”

He shrugged his shoulders before responding, “I don’t know. I was gonna go by myself. I don’t mind being the odd man out.”

“I’ll be your date.”

Tendou turned and looked at you as if you were crazy. He leaned forward and squinted his eyes before leaning back. “Are you sick or something? Weren’t you crying over Semi and now you’re moving on that quick? I know I’m great but still that’s a little too quick for me doll face.”

You laughed as he spoke. “I am heart broken, but you still deserve to go to our last dance with a date. I don’t mind, I’ll go with you, what are friends for?” Once you realized what you said you where quick to apologize. “I mean, you don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to. I know you can ask someone else and they’ll say yeah, it was kinda selfish of me to just offer myself like that especially with all this going on.”

“I’ll take you up on your offer.”

The next morning you decided to text Izumi about her offer. It was the weekend so classes weren’t a huge focus, especially since the year was about to end.

“Girls! She texted!” Izumi exclaimed, raising her phone in the air with excitement.

“No way,” the girl with the attitude responded.

“That’s a good sign!” the soft spoken girl added. “What did she say?”

“She asked if we could talk more about the band.”

“Invite her over, Izumi!”

“Already did. She should be here soon.”

Walking towards the arts building you kept glancing at your phone every few steps. Why hasn’t he texted you? Does he not care about how hurt you were? Semi kept clouding your mind. You guys text regularly and you assumed he would’ve texted by now asking you if you were okay or even just saying a morning. Maybe you should text him first, you thought but that idea went out the window when you made it your destination. You put your phone away and opened the door to focus on finding the room that Izumi told you they’d be in.

When you found the room you knocked on the door waited for someone to answer. You heard voices on the other side for a bit until the door opened to reveal the bathroom girls.

“Welcome!” Izumi greeted, letting you into the room before closing the door behind you. “Thanks for coming, this is the practice room we managed to snag.”

“Hi,” you greeted her before looking at the other girls and saying hello to them as well.

“We didn’t properly introduce ourselves yesterday, now did we?” the main girl spoke. “I’m Yui.” She put her hand out for you two to shake.

“I’m Haruka,” the timid one spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You took a second to look around the room. It was a pretty much empty room with some supplies and desks but it was all pushed to one side of the room while the open space they created housed their instruments. “How’d you get this room? Eita usually has to go off campus to practice with his mates.”

“I’m close with the music teacher, so she pulled some strings and managed to do this for us,” Yui answered.

“Is Semi your ex?” Haruka asked innocently which made the girls eyes go wide.

“Haru, you can’t just-“

“It’s okay. And no he’s not my ex, we’re just friends. When you guys found me I was just overwhelmed,” you told them. They looked at each other as if using telepathy to communicate with each other. They must’ve unanimously decided not to press you further with their own curiosity and changed the subject.

“So, what kind of music do you listen to?”

“I listen to a little bit of everything but mainly pop punk I guess. It’s hard to label it. What about you guys?”

“I get that and we’re pretty much the same. Haruka is mostly into metal, but she still vibes with all the other stuff,” Izumi answered.

At this you had to laugh a bit. The most innocent and quiet looking one of the group, enjoyed heavy music. “Haruka, no way,” you told her while looking at her.

She leveled her eyes with yours before giving you a closed eye smile and speaking, “I love the lyrics and head banging. It’s fun.”

“I have to agree. What sound are you guys aiming for with the band?” You asked.

“Honestly anything. I don’t think we really have a sound yet, we kinda just play and mess around until we find something we like or we’ll give a topic and try to match something up with that makes sense. You mind listening for a second?” Yui asked making her way towards the bass.

“I’d love to” you responded before taking a seat on one of the empty desks. Izumi made picked up the electric guitar and Haruka sat on the stool behind the drums which was another surprise for you. Don’t judge a book by its cover, you reminded yourself.

Haruka gave the count down with her drum sticks before leading them into the song. Yui joined in and then Izumi followed after. Watching them was entertaining, Haruka’s hair was going all over the place you had to question how she was able to see. Yui seemed to enjoy swaying side to side while occasionally head banging while Izumi seemed a little stiff but was definitely enjoying themself. They seemed to be in sync with each other it made you worry that if you were to join if you would mess up their flow. When they finished they looked up to you.

“So what do you think?” Yui asked.

“I’d like to join, I just don’t wanna mess you guys up. You guys seem pretty in tune with each other are you sure you want me to join?”

The girls immediately started laughing making you question if you said something wrong.

“You’re funny, y/n,” Haruka giggled.

“We’ve been together for a year now and have been practicing almost daily which is why we’re at the level we are,” Izumi stated.

“Listen, yeah we’re alright but we need that missing piece which is you. And we’re picky. We’ve been looking for six months for a lead so when we saw your performance we knew we had to have you. We want you,” Yui added on.

You slipped off the desk and smiled at them before presenting a notebook you brought along with you. “Then I guess I’m in. This is my lyric book, basically what I have to offer besides my voice.”

Yui took the book and flipped through it while Izumi and Haruka looked over the writing as well. Yui and Izumi looked very concentrated while Haruka’s expression showed amazement.

“You’re good!”

“Dude, you’re definitely in. I can’t wait to perform these live in front of others!”

“Damn girly, you really are full of surprises.”

Blushing at their compliments you accepted your journal back. “Thank you, I’ve been writing since my first year.”

“Can I ask why there were some ripped pages?” Izumi asked.

“Oh, those were some songs I wrote for Eita’s band. I felt like they were more his style so I gave them to him.”

You guys continued chatting until it was around lunch time. They wished you goodbye and reminded you to come back tomorrow to start joining them for practice. You left the practice room with a smile on your face, excited for what the future held in store for your new band.

The week went by fast, you basically spent it writing more lyrics since all your school work was already done.

The school dance was tonight and so was the dinner that you were joining. You got out of the shower and threw on some sweats before making your way back to your dorm so that other girls could go take a shower to get ready.

“Hey, Y/n,” Yui greeted when she was stepping out of her dorm with a towel. “You getting ready?”

“Yeah, you’re going to the dance too right?” You told her, taking a step closer to the wall so others could walk by.

“Yep. I assume I’ll see you there. You’re going to that dinner thing with your friends first right?”

You nodded your head up and down. “Mhmm. I’ll probably part ways with them at the dance and try to find you and the others.”

“Sounds good. Remember, if anything happens, you have us to rely on. I know we barely know each other yet but we’re here for you,” she told you honestly. Yui may come off strong, but she really is a reliable human being. “I’m gonna try to find a shower head, see ya.”

When you made it back into your dorm you noticed a package in front of your door. Picking up and making your way inside you inspected it to make sure it was for you before opening it. The label read your name followed by the sender, Rarity Records. Your breath hitched.

You heard rumors that agencies were going to attend the talent show, but you weren’t sure you believed it. You carefully sliced the top of the package using a pair of scissors to unveil the contents. In the package you discovered a letter along with some snacks, stickers, and merch from artists that belonged to the label.

Dear L/n F/n,

We would like to congratulate you on your win last week! Your performance was beautiful and we believe you have a lot of talent. We’d like to invite you to join our label to help make you shine and prosper. Please contact us at this number. We await your call.

Sincerely,

Rarity Records

A label wants to sign you! Your wildest dream is on the verge of coming true! You had to tell someone!

“Oh my god, I have to text Eita,” you spoke aloud. Unplugging your phone from the charging cord and unlocking it, you quickly tapped on the conversation and typed out your message. You were about to hit send until you remembered the situation you were in.

Semi still hasn’t contacted you and it made you question if that concluded the end of your friendship. You’re well aware that you directly told him not to speak to you but at the end of the day it’s not like you yelled at him and made it into a huge argument. You missed your best friend. You know you should text him, he probably doesn’t even realize what’s wrong but you were hurting too much internally to reach out to him, even if it was exciting news that you know he’d congratulate you on.

You deleted the message and connected your phone back to it’s cord and made your way to your blow dryer. Once you finished drying your hair you went back to your phone to turn on some music to listen to while you get ready.

You sang along to the song and all the songs after that as you were getting ready. The last step was to put on the dress that you had. It was a stunning red dress with some gems and lace here and there but the glam wasn’t overwhelming.

“Knock, knock. Can I come in?” Tendou asked from behind your door.

“It’s locked and I’m getting dressed! give me a second!” you answered. You had the dress on, just couldn’t zip it up completely. Giving up on your attempts you made your way towards the door to let your friend in. “Hey,” you greeted when you opened the door.

Tendou’s back was leaning against your door before so when you opened it he stumbled back a bit but was quick to catch his balance. He pivoted and looked up from his phone only to be welcomed by your beauty. His eyes went wide before opening his mouth to speak. “I- you look, wow.”

You gave a small chuckle before attempting to greet him again. “Hi, Tendou.”

“Hi..” he answered, still mesmerized. “Sorry, you look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. I was nervous about the bright red but it turned out really nice. Oh, do you mind zipping it up and clasping it for me?” You asked as you twirled around to expose your back to him. He raised his hands to do as you asked, careful not to get the zipper caught. When he was done you turned your body once again and closed your door to leave with him. “Let’s go, I’m starving,” you laughed as you grabbed his wrist to pull him towards the parking lot, failing to notice the bush on his face.

Tendou and you arrived a little late to the dinner due to the fact that you were having too much fun chatting in the car that he missed the turn three times, but eventually you arrived to your destination.

“You’re late, Tendou,” Ushijima said when you both arrived to the table.

“Only fifteen minutes. Here you go, Y/n,” Tendou spoke as he pulled out your chair for you.

“Oh, thank you,” you blushed as he helped you settle into the group. The lineup went as Ushijima’s date, Ushijima, Tendou, and you next to him. On the other side was Semi’s date, Semi, Reon, and then Reon’s girlfriend, the girlfriend being across from you.

Throughout the dinner you had a smile on your face. It was definitely awkward at first since it was the first time you were seeing Semi in the past week. You decided to communicate as little as you needed with him, not to make a point, but to be polite. You didn’t need to somehow ruin anyone’s night in any way. You were all together to have fun and enjoy the little time you all had left together in high school.

While you were enjoying yourself and chatting with the other’s, Semi found himself glancing at you every once in a while. He was right to believe you and Tendou had something going on, Tendou wouldn’t stop bringing you up to him during practice. Tendou always had something positive to say about you and now here he was, at dinner with you as his date.

Good for him, Semi thought to himself. Tendou finally made a move on you and got what he wanted. He was happy for his friends, but he felt uneasy. Why hadn’t you ever expressed your thoughts of his friend to him? You always called him your best friend but you never spoke about Tendou to him, only saying he was a nice guy if asked.

It made him question why you were so upset with him when you asked about his girlfriend. It’s not like you told him about Tendou which is why he didn’t see the need to tell you about his girl. He’d been wanting to talk to you about it but knowing how hot headed you both can be he opted to waiting for you to confront him first. He thought giving you time would be the best option.

“Semi, you should eat more before we go,” his date told him, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Oh, you’re right,” he responded before picking up his utensils to continue eating.

Taking one last glance at your form, he had to admit it was the prettiest he’s ever seen you. Your hair was done differently, your dress looked fitting, and the red really made you look hot. Your smile screamed that you were having a good time, a sight he missed seeing.

“The party has arrived!” Tendou spoke when your group entered the main doors of the gymnasium. You laughed at his silliness until Ushijima spoke.

“We should take pictures.”

“Good idea, buddy,” Tendou agreed. You all made your way over to some props and took turns taking pictures. Some were just the guys, the others just the girls, then group, followed by individual. Luck was favoriting you, you didn’t have to take pictures for Semi because him and Reon partnered up. You and Tendou did multiple poses, Tendou claiming you guys needed one from all angles, as Ushijima took pictures.

As you were getting your pictures taken, Semi was taking pictures for Reon. His eyes kept darting between both parties, lingering more on you than the couple directly in front of him. Semi was lucky his girlfriend didn’t notice but his friend sure did. Reon could tell how bad Semi wanted to talk to you and he couldn’t understand why he didn’t. Semi was never one to keep his thoughts to himself unless if it had potential to hurt someone else.

Reon excused himself from his girlfriend and explained what he was doing to which she responded with a nod. “Can we talk?” Reon asked Semi once they decided they were done taking pictures.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Reon’s girlfriend told Semi’s date before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the dance floor.

“What did you wanna talk about?” a confused Semi asked Reon.

“What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have your girlfriend right next to you and you’re paying more attention to your best friend. That’s not okay dude. You’re lucky they haven’t noticed.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t given Y/n any attention. We haven’t talked since last week,” Semi countered to which Reon sighed.

“Listen, you may not be aware you’re doing this, but since they joined us at dinner, you haven’t stopped looking at them. Why are your eyes wandering so much when you have a girlfriend right there?”

“I noticed too,” Ushijima spoke up.

“Have I been glancing at them that much?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you need to talk it out,” Reon stated. The three boys turned to find you in the sea of people.

“There,” Ushijima spoke while pointing at the red hair that stuck out. “Go.”

With a gentle push from his friends, Semi walked into the crowd, careful not to step on anyone’s feet while saying excuse me to make his way towards you.

“How are you feeling?” Tendou asked you. Both of you were currently swaying back and forth, his hands on your waist as you held his biceps.

“I’m good. Tonight’s been a lot of fun so far,” you smiled at him.

He returned the gesture before removing a hand from your waist to the back of your head to bring you closer to him before putting it back down. “That’s good, but how do you feel?” he asked again, making you realize what he was really asking.

“Hmm.” Taking a deep breath to think you responded. “I still feel hurt, but I can’t find myself to be mad at him. I don’t even care about that girl, I don’t know her and don’t plan to be her friend. I just have to accept that if he wanted me, he would’ve asked me. It’s a tough pill to swallow but it’s the truth. I wish I didn’t hold onto the little hope I had and just opened my eyes to see he clearly wasn’t interested. We were just best friends, erm- friends- we’re just friends.”

Tendou changed his hand placement again. The hand that previously touched your head was back as his other hand rubbed circles between your shoulder blades. You didn’t feel like crying, you already did all of that last week. You had no more tears left in you and you just wanted to move on from the situation.

You and Tendou didn’t speak for a while, just swayed and listened to the song that was playing. “Can I tell you something? Tendou broke the silence.

“Yeah. What is it?” you asked.

“This is probably a bad time to tell you all of this. Semi is a fool, and I’m not saying that just because of his fashion sense. I don’t understand why he didn’t make a move on you because I am about to.”

His last line made you move your head so you were now making eye contact with him. “What?”

“I see your value. You are a treasure. Silly rocker Semi has overlooked what a catch you are. I never interfered because I knew of your feelings for him. I understand I’d just be a second option for you, a rebound if you will, but I’m willing to take any opportunity to get to know you better. I like you, Y/n. Can we get to know each other better?”

You were shocked. You knew Tendou as the friendly sightly crazy middle blocker on the volleyball team. You knew him as a class clown. You knew him as Semi’s friend. You never would’ve expected this moment to ever happen.

Tendou leaned a little closer to you which made you think fast. At the end of the day, you had nothing to lose, you already lost the guy you really loved. Leaning in as well, your lips connected. Unfortunately, it was at that moment Semi reached you both. It was at that moment Semi finally realized how he felt about you, but he didn’t feel like taking away the happiness from his friends for his own selfish feelings.

“Whoa dude, what happened?” Reon asked his teammate when he came back with a scowl on his face.

“I feel like a fucking idiot.”

—————

a/n: damn, this was supposed to be a Semi fic but here I am feeding the Tendou stans. Oopsies. ALSO I DID NOT THINK IT WOULD BE THIS LONG (and poorly edited again so another oopsies)

Tag: @pluviophilefangirl

#haikyu #haikyuu!!#semi eita x reader #semi haikyuu #semi eita #semi x reader #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader

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fenheart87 · 3 years

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Name For Your Order?

My work for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Exchange 2021! This goes out to @bevvydraws . Prompt was Coffee shop au! - So a coffee shop au where Luka is a singer who occasionally performs at the cafe, and Marinette is the shy barista who keeps forgetting to ask his name.

It was Tuesday, a bright and sunny Tuesday. Usually, just another day of the week except Marinette had been persuaded to swap her shift so one of her co-workers had the day free, which she did not mind at all, for two reasons. The first being that co-worker always covered when she needed it, and extra hours never hurt, but the bigger reason was one tall, blue-eyed and sweet guitarist that played at their little coffee shop on most Tuesdays. Now if she could only manage to talk to him and get his name, that way she could quit calling him ‘blue eyes’ in her head. Maybe she would ask him when he came to get his free cup of coffee, a perk that the manager gave for him bringing in more business.

Looking at the clock showed that the rush hour would be hitting soon, and Marinette checked all the cups, syrups, and other mixing items to make a list of what needed to be restocked before the rush. They never seemed to be successful in preparing for it but anything to make the miserable time easier was always a plus. Moving to the back she grabbed as many items as she could carry until Nino came in through the employee door and helped to break up the load with an empty box he found. Smiling gratefully, Marinette emptied her arms and grabbed a few things she was unable to before. She opened the door for Nino and helped to refill the items, weaving through the other employees as they were making drinks and serving pastries.

“Welcome to The Busy Bean, what can I make fresh for you?” Marinette greeted, finishing a refill of the large cups.

“I’d like a cappuccino with caramel drizzle please.”

“What size for the cappuccino?”

“Medium, I think small goes too quick and the large gets ignored when I’m playing back to back.” Oh, he was early.

“Sure thing!” Marinette squeaked, almost punching in the wrong order but correcting at the last second. She grabbed a medium-sized cup and slid to the side to write on it while her manager comped the drink for the part-time musician. Passing off the cup for someone else to make it, the petite employee moved back to the register. “Next time I recommend a chocolate swirl. it makes it even better.”

“I’ll have to try that next time. Time for me to get to work, thanks Marinette.” The musician smiled softly, just like always, and then made his way to the little stage area they had.

“Still didn’t get his name huh?” Nino teased, knocking Marinette out of her love-struck staring.

“No, and I don’t want to know from you.” The DJ shrugged with a smile and handed off another drink. It had become a thing between the two childhood friends, the mysterious singer was actually Nino’s roommate that he never really talked about by name. It was surprising but humorous and the DJ had fun, too much in the designer’s opinion, teasing her about her crush and not being able to ask him for his name.

“Okay, dudette, but you do realize I’ve been fighting not to say his name anytime we talk, it’s difficult.”

“Free macaroons and I’ll even throw in an eclair a day for Alya.” The raven-haired girl bargained with a sly smile.

“You drive a hard bargain dudette but you got yourself a deal.”

“Welcome to The Busy Bean, what can I get started for you today?” Marinette hip-checked Nino who snorted good-naturedly and moved back to his place in the hot drink line.

The lunch rush came and went, and the stress was eased by the upbeat pop songs the guitarist had been noodling together for the better part of an hour. Marinette had missed her break but was fine as she could take a longer one now that there were only a few people in the coffee shop. Deciding to whip up a similar drink but with sprinkles and roasted marshmallow, she grabbed two medium cups and made her way to the ‘Blue-Eyed Prince’ as Nino teased.

“Hey stranger, thought you could use a pick me up.”

“Well if you’re talking about the coffee then yes, not that I would say no if you were talking about yourself.”

“I uh, what?” Marinette stuttered and froze with her hand outstretched.

“Sorry, Nino has been teasing me about the coffee girls. I take it, you’re not one?I’ll ask for you to make my drinks from now on, it’s hard to play when I’m being flirted with and some girls can’t take no for an answer.” The guitarist sighed, sipping on his drink. Surprise colored his features for a moment, making the coffee worker giggle.

“I put a spin on it, I hope you like it.”

“Sprinkles,” he smiled crookedly and Marinette felt her breath catch, “I like it. Think we can make this my regular drink?”

“When I’m here yeah, I don’t usually work Tuesdays, but now a co-worker owes me and I’ll see you on Fridays to make your signature drink.”

“Cool, I shouldn’t keep you since you get paid to be here and I’m just here to vibe.“

"I had extra time on my break, at least I’m over here and not being harassed by people trying to get their caffeine fix and bugging me when I’m clearly on break at a table. I need to bring a jacket back to work so I can zip it up and not be bothered.”

“Hey I’m here until closer to six, take mine so you don’t get harassed.” He passed over a well loved leather jacket that had a hint of cologne.

“Oh I couldn’t- I mean that’s so nice but I’m so clumsy and I would spill something on it.”

“Nino talked about a friend that works here, she’s a pretty bomb designer and I’ve seen her work on his favorite jacket that she made him and the stains that Chris has put it through. If you make a mess, I have faith she’ll be able to fix it.”

Marinette squeaked as she turned red, and the musician’s knowing look, causing butterflies to run rampant in her stomach. Accepting the jacket, she hid her face and listened to his smooth chuckle.

“Alright I need to play something chill, it seems like the ladies with the short hair cuts like to their chins? They are quite uh-”

“Demanding? Crazy? Rude? A little too Bourgeois?” The shop employee rattled off after removing her face from the leather cover. “Yeah, it’s about that time because the yoga class and spin classes let out.”

“Any requests?”

“I like Jagged Stone but I don’t think they appreciate it. Maybe something mellow?” Marinette mused before Nino waved with a hand signal. “Ah Nino needs help, he’s hopeless with the swirls. Duty calls.”

“When does your shift end?”

“Supposed to be five-fifteen.”

“I’ll play Jagged for you then.”

“Awesome! See ya ‘round Rockstar!” She chirped, nearly skipping her way back to the counter. With a fist bump to Nino, he rattled off the orders that needed swirls, and the designer set to work with the same determination she had when designing for the rest of her shift.

“One caramel macchiato swirl for Rose!”

“Thanks Marinette! Oh hey, I didn’t know Juleka’s brother played here.”

“Wait, brother?”

“No way dudette, you didn’t know my roomie is Juleka’s older brother? And here I thought you knew your blue-eyed prince.”

“Juleka! Oh my gosh that’s so cute! Isn’t it?! Juleka!” Rose squealed, latching onto her girlfriend’s arm and shaking the taller girl a bit.

“That’s my brother, gross.” Came the dry reply.

“I mean if it bothers you I can back off. I don’t even know his name…” Marinette backtracked, not wanting her friend to feel awkward.

“It’s fine, just no details. I haven’t seen him in his birthday suit since we were young and took baths together.”

“Oh my God! Juleka!” For the second time that day Marinette lit up bright red, this time collapsing onto the counter and shielding herself with her arms.

“It’ll be okay dudette, when you remember to ask his name at least.”

“It’s not my fault! We get to talking and he doesn’t seem to mind my crazy runaway brain and lets me figure out my words but, like, not in a rude way. Then I get distracted by his eyes oh my God those should be illegal. And he’s just so nice and funny and talented. By the way, you didn’t tell me you told him about me fixing your hoodie!”

“Hey he’s my roomie and he asked if I got a new one. I told him the truth because you’re awesome.” The DJ shrugged with a grin.

“That’s Luka’s jacket.” Rose gasped, pointing at the leather jacket she was wearing.

“Yeah he let me borrow it, can you give it back to him for me?” Marinette passed over the jacket to Juleka who took it with an odd look on her face but remained silent.

The lack of music drew their attention to the small stage where Luka waved and then started playing a Jagged song, tossing a wink at the ravenette. Marinette flushed again, ignoring the coos from Rose and playful elbow from Nino.

“Huh. he usually hates playing Jagged’s music…”

“Really? I mentioned I liked his music but I wouldn’t have asked if I had known.”

“Go figure.” With that mysterious comment, Juleka shoved the jacket back at Marinette and pushed her towards her brother who finished up the song.

“Hey there Sprinkles.”

“Hey Rockstar, I think this is yours.” Marinette handed over the leather jacket with a shy grin.

“You know out of all the times I’ve played here the last couple of months, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me by my name.”

“Well, that uh might be because I don’t know it? And Nino teases me all the time calling you my 'blue-eyed prince because I get distracted by your blue eyes, they should be illegal. And you’re so nice when I’m having a bad day or just a busy day, you always smile and listen to me and don’t make me feel stupid for getting words mixed or rambling like I’m doing right now and oh my God!” She wished a hole would appear so she could sink into it.

“Well your eyes are pretty amazing too, they’ve kept me up on more than one night trying to find the music to describe them.” Her eyes met his, a soft smile present on his face, “And since I was too distracted by the pretty coffee girl to give my name, I guess I should fix that. I’m Luka, nice to finally introduce myself.”

“Hi, Luka.” Marinette smiled, the blush dying down to a pinkish color and not a full red.

“So uh would you like something to eat? I’m sure you’re tired of coffee…” Luka packed up his guitar, taking the jacket and putting it over her shoulders.

“Sure but let’s go somewhere else, the best pastries in all of Paris.”

“Wait, if you’re going where I think you’re going you had better bring me back something! I’ve got another hour left!” Nino shouted, amusing the customer he was supposed to be taking the order of.

“Maman won’t mind another mouth to feed if you just want to come over for dinner. I think it’s dumpling night?”

“Marinette you are my best friend! Sorry bro, you’ll understand when you taste the food.” The DJ joked before focusing back on the order he was punching in.

“Did I just get invited to dinner?”

“Yeah but that’s okay, you’ll have to meet my parents at some point. Juleka and Rose are already like their adopted daughters.”

“Oh! Maman Sabine dumplings?! I’m in!” Rose jumped on her toes excitedly, tugging Juleka along to follow the budding couple.

“I’ll text Maman and let her know we need to break out the other chairs and let Papa know we need another batch of macarons and eclairs.”

#lbscexchange2021 #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #fen's plunny corner #lovebugs and snake charmers #bevvydraws #fluff

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your-lips-are-very-red · 3 years

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St. Vincent x Emma Madden Interview

This is the text from the St. Vincent interview that Emma Madden was asked to not use. Since Miss Madden has decided to take it down, I wanted it to be available somewhere online - in case she manages to get all the cached versions taken down, too.

SOURCE: https://archive.is/wFkLN

About a fortnight ago I was commissioned to interview St. Vincent, an artist I have been inspired by, impressed by, turned on by, compelled by, curious of, in awe of, occasionally suspicious of—for the better half of a decade. I try not to think about other journalists too much, but St. Vincent has developed a reputation for intimidating us. For her last press cycle, she made her interviewers crawl into a pink box; she would play a pre-recorded message on a tape recorder if a question bored or irked her. I found that quite funny—irresistibly imperious—but I considered it an act of degradation rather than an interesting switch of power. I love famous people but I also find them quite silly, like a Schnauzer wearing a bowtie.

I didn’t know why, but for around two hours after our call ended, I was reeling with nervous energy. I was vocalising it and trying to get to the other side of it, the way I sing songs when I’m walking through a haunted house. I woke up the next morning with a voice message from the editor who assigned this piece. I am fond of this person and I will not name them. MBC, the team in charge of St. Vincent’s publicity (which is helmed by Barbara Charone, who also works for Madonna, and is considered one of the more powerful and intimidating publicists in the industry) had been on the phone to this editor, demanding the piece be pulled. My editor’s words: “They said she’s terrified of this interview coming out.” The publication didn’t have a leg to stand on.

"Terrified"? That word didn't seem to square. I thought I had done a not-so-good job the night before. I ended the call thinking I hadn’t asked the right questions. St. Vincent and I didn’t feel like a good match in conversation (or at least not in this conversational setup set-up, for which I was given thirty minutes, and continual reminders from the person on St. Vincent’s team, who remained on the call with us, that we’d need to wrap up well in time for St. Vincent’s Instagram Live session with Paul McCartney, which directly followed our interview.) St. Vincent tended to interpret my questions in bad faith. I assumed she believed me to be a Bad Reader; presumptuous, judgemental, simple, anti-curious—all qualities that her latest album ‘Daddy’s Home’, which I’ve interpreted as a counter to the folly, inadequacy and meretriciousness of moral purity—counters. Anyway, she read me wrong. I love Lana Del Rey.

I got a call from MBC later that morning by a man who sounded quite nervous. I told him I was confused, I asked him what the matter seemed to be. He wasn't totally sure, he said, "she found the interview aggressive." Aggressive? I complimented her and cowed to her and laughed at her jokes. "Well, the message has been passed down a line of many messengers, she might not have actually said that." The man on the phone said that this—one of his artists demanding an interview to be pulled—had never happened to him before. It hadn't happened to me either. I felt annoyed by how easy it was for St. Vincent to kill something I had researched and expected money for. But the interview started to seem valuable to me after I was told that she didn't want it out in the world. "Can we draw a line under this and just kill the piece here?" said the man on the phone.

Below is the full transcript of my interview with St. Vincent (save for a short and-forth about Tool which didn’t make sense when turned into text). My questions are in bold, her responses are in italics.

**for the sake of this post, Madden’s questions are bold and Annie’s answers are not** Hi, how are you? Good how’s it going?

Not too bad. What’s your mood for today? My mood for today, well it’s good, I’m getting on an Instagram Live chat with Paul McCartney in a couple minutes so my mood is a little bit nervous but good.

I’m excited to talk about this album, I think it has a sick sense of humor that I appreciate a lot. I’ve had a really fun time listening to it.

Oh I’m glad, thank you.

I’m sensing there’s kind of a 70s trend at the moment in terms of fashion and the ways some other bands are presenting themselves. Is that something you were anticipating, is that something you feel you belong to, or was it just kind of accidental?

Accidental.

Do you feel bummed about that? No I don’t, I always just kind of do my own thing.

Do you think there’s a reason why people might be inspired by the 70s today? Do you see an analog with our world today and with the 70s? I guess this album is based in 1973, right?

Between ‘71 and ‘76, so post flower children idealism, post the Summer of Love hangover, but pre escapism of gay disco and pre nihilism of punk. Life was bad but music was good, kind of vibe.

Kind of when the trash aesthetic was taking hold, especially by Andy Warhol. Does trash inspire you? Um like literal rubbish?

No like the trash aesthetic, I guess in the PR you call it sleazy, grimy. Yeah but the difference with sleazy is that sleazy tries to present as glamorous but there’s something off, trash is just trash. I don’t know if trash pretends to be anything other.

Can you have glamour without sleaze? Sure, absolutely. I mean, like the 20s Greta Garbo way, I would say Golden Era Hollywood, I mean behind the scenes it was probably a nightmare but you look at it and it is very genuinely shiny and beautiful.

I love the sitar on this album especially on ‘Down’, the riff is so sick. How did you get to the sitar? Well it’s not a sitar per se, it’s a choral electric sitar guitar and so it was I think George Harrison made them kind of popular in the ‘60s, I think the one I have is from ’67 and it plays like a guitar but it has a resonating body on it so it sounds sitar-esque. It was made very famous in the Steely Dan Do it Again solo.

I guess the main PR bulletin point of this album is about your dad coming out of jail. Why did you want that to be the main way that people might read this album? More like an entry point, the title Daddy’s Home to me I mean one, it is literal but also it’s funny and cringy and pervy and also I think more than anything kind of refers to my own transformation into Daddy as it were. Yeah it’s probably not anything I would’ve really thrown out there except that it was made public without my consent but I didn’t really get to tell that side of the story and I don’t bring it up for sympathy. It simply is my story, it’s not intended to be indicative of necessarily anything, it’s just my story and I was gonna tell it with humor and compassion, all of that.

Did you anticipate a lack of sympathy for your dad’s crimes and the subject matter of this album and did that factor into how you shaped this record? That’s the tail wagging the dog my dear. No, no. A lack of sympathy, well, which crime would be the most sympathetic? I didn’t do anything, I’m simply writing about something that I think on some level everyone who’s ever had a parent can understand in the sense of you’re often going “How much of you am I?” and we kind of do identity projection through all these things so no, it’s again, it’s not really there for anything other than my own anecdotal story.

At what point did you transform into this daddy character? For how much of your adult life have you been the daddy? Oh I would just say over the past few years, I’ve just been quite a bit more leaned back and shoulder shrug and say let’s just sit down in the old beat up leather armchair and have a tequila and chat it out you know. Life is complicated, human beings are complicated and I wanted to just write stories about flawed people. There’s a whole lot of judgement going around and not a whole lot of understanding. And judgement is anti-curious. There are some people, perhaps the more sanctimonious and morally pure, who might not be interested in an artist’s reflection on their father’s white collar crimes. Do you have much sympathy for those kinds of people? I mean I think I can get sympathy for all people. If that is the reason why they decide not to spend 46 minutes with my work then I’m sure there’s plenty of other work out there for them that they can enjoy that is morally pure. They should find pure work from pure people and enjoy it.

I guess last year’s riots brought abolition towards the mainstream, during the time you were making this record, which is partially about your father’s time in prison. How did that square with your thoughts on prison and the US carceral system? Well I have plenty of thoughts on it, I’m not totally sure how it’s relevant to this.

Well I was wondering if you have a standpoint on it or if you’d rather just be ambiguous? I have so many thoughts and opinions, I don’t presume that my thoughts and opinions are relevant on every subject though. I don’t have that much hubris.

I understand. I was wondering about the Candy Darling inspiration, how does she come into the fold? Oh I just, Candy Darling to me is such a beautiful heroine in that she came from Queens and went not geographically far but worlds away to Manhattan and became her true self and in that particular kind of combination of glamour and toughness, where you feel like her name should be on the marquee and yet she could stick you with a shiv if you said the wrong thing. And I just find her inspiring and really beautiful, and I didn’t know but I found out a friend of mine was close with her and was at her bedside when she died so I was just picturing Candy Darling’s ascent to heaven as taking the final uptown train.

Wow. Did you feel like you were embodying her on this album or presenting as her? No not as such, but definitely taking inspiration from some of her energy for sure. I do hear a bit of her voice on the title track, I was wondering if you were kind of modeling your voice after her? On Daddy’s Home? Oh, no.

I love the sultriness of that song, even though it’s just about signing autographs in prison. I found it really funny. Yeah it’s definitely again, I’m writing about my own story with humor and compassion and self-effacement, all that.

Do you see this album as a movement, does it have a narrative? Yeah. It’s a full story, it’s a full collection of short stories. It has a shape and everything.

That’s just how I listened to this album, as a series of short stories. I was wondering how they interlink in your mind? I guess you have the person on Broadway, you have your dad, you have the person who’s maybe thinking of having a baby or not having a baby. I just could write stories of flawed people doing their best to get by because I’ve been most of the people on this album at one point of my life or another. And again I could write about them without condemnation and judgement just, here we are.

Are you a nostalgic person? No not generally.

Not even during the creation of this album? I’m thinking of the humming tracks, your mum cooking in the kitchen. Not exactly, I think that this particular kind of music with its sophistication and some of the jazz language in the harmony and its sense of time, it was a kind of music that I’d loved for so long but never really dipped into myself, and I think we kind of learn things a lot of times when we’re ready to, and I think I was kind of ready to learn some of the lessons that this kind of music had to teach me.

Do you think about shame a lot? Um, I think that shame is the reason why most people do the violence that they do. I think violence is an expression of impotence.

What was it about the post-idealist era in particular that you were drawn to, why not go through the flower power utopia sort of 60s route? I think that there’s an intellectual orthodoxy that is involved in utopian thinking and a lot of times it doesn’t allow for either a complex set of incentives or it doesn’t allow for the totality of human nature in its equation, and then it fails and because the structure of any kind of power is really complicated so I think in general the desire… and I understand that we’re living in, in some ways, I think just with the internet part of it, in some ways unprecedented times. And I understand people’s desire for certainty in times economic strife, cultural upheaval, all this stuff. I completely understand the desire for certainty. But I don’t think it’s as simple as demanding moral purity and punishing anyone who doesn’t fix the orthodox criteria. I understand the desire but I’m not sure it’s gonna get to where I think we want to be, which is just general more equality, whether it’s wealth equality, wealth disparity, all that kind of stuff I just think the matrices of power are really complicated.

You were saying earlier about Daddy and how you were thinking about your dad and the overlap between you two and how we all possibly become our parents. I was wondering how you consolidate the influences of your parents? I don’t know anything about them obviously but I know that your mum was a social worker, your dad was an entrepreneur, and those seem like two totally opposing worlds. Yes, my mother is a social worker and she instilled in all of us I think the idea that the work we do should be meaningful and she’s definitely really humanistic and that kind of thinking I think, that had an impression on me. My dad wasn’t an entrepreneur, my dad was a stock broker I think? But I grew up with my mom and my stepdad and my stepdad was a very different kind of guy, just was an army brat and grew up really poor, and was just coming from a different mindset and they’re just very different kinds of people. Not a judgement thing, just very different. Yeah my mom definitely errs on the very humble side. And yeah, my dad is a complicated, charismatic person who’s also very intelligent, and who went down a path that was full of consequence. Yeah they’re really, really different people so it’s funny to kind of square who was who.

What does your dad think of this album? Oh he loves it!

Yay, that’s good to know. Did you ever rebel against your dad’s lifestyle growing up as a teenager? I didn’t grow up with him, and he was in Tulsa Oklahoma. I don’t know what lifestyle you’re necessarily presuming but..

No I’m not presuming, just wanted a little background on your relationship with him I guess. So he wasn’t in your life that much where you were younger? I would go and we would spend summers there and Christmas, but I grew up in Dallas for the most part with my mom and my stepdad.

Was this album in any way an opportunity to get closer to your dad? Not in any way consciously, no.

But are you finding with age and with time you’re getting closer to him? Well him being out of prison helps in terms of just proximity. Yeah, here’s what I’m finding. I’m finding that we live by the stories that we tell ourselves and that sometimes we realize that the story we’ve been telling ourselves for a long time was either wrong or lacked a certain amount of information, and then we have the choice of whether to reject the new information because it’s too painful to rethink the story that we’ve been telling ourselves, or assimilate the new information and go, wow life is complicated, this is an interesting wrinkle. I choose to do the latter.

Yeah, it’s very easy to bullshit yourself, right? Yeah, it's true in all kind of ways you know?

This story, the story of your dad, it almost seems redemptive. I mean I would say so, and that’s not in any way what I intended and you know, a lot of times when you’re making something, I mean you’re a writer you know, you have the compulsion to make it but you’re not necessarily sure where it’s coming from or why or any of those kind of questions, but I think there is the possibility of redemption, I do, I think there is the possibility of people to change and I think there is a possibility of things like forgiveness and growth. And if I didn’t think that there was a possibility for human beings to change, to grow, to take in new information and then continue to write their story, then I don’t know what we’d really be doing, you know? And that’s not really the world I want to live in, we’re a moving picture we’re not a still photograph.

Do you want to try and change the world, do you feel like you have that power, do you feel hopeful that there can be a better future? Sorry for the cheesy language. No, I mean I don’t think that many people would accuse me of being an optimist in a lot of ways, and I don’t think in terms of my “power to change the world” I mean I think all I can do is try to study the human condition and write about the human condition in some way that resonates and then maybe people will hear that and that will resonate with them and I think that ultimately the best case scenario for music is empathy because it’s like psychologically this is why we like to listen to stories or this is why we like to watch movies is so we can go down the empathy exercise and you can see yourself as that person in the film, see someone who isn’t like you in any way, shape or form from a just box ticking kind of way, but then realize oh, we’re very similar in some ways or what would I do if I was in that situation, we do all these things and we live by these stories and I think those stories well-told can encourage empathy and empathy can go out into the world and have a kind of transformative experience. I don’t really think about, I mean I think once I make a thing and then it’s out in the world and it’s for other people to assimilate or enjoy or not, whatever, however they take it, is absolutely fine by me. But it’s for them, it’s not my place in any way to say how people should or should not enjoy it or assimilate it.

Yeah the reason I brought up prison abolition earlier is because that might be how some people contextualize this album. I would say that that’s one lens. That to me would not be the main lens.

[I’m told to wrap it up]

Yeah let’s wrap up. So Tool cover album next? No, I wish.

Someday I’m hoping. I love Tool.

I feel your Paul McCartney nerves Yeah, I’m gonna go shower.

That’s always a good idea. Okay take care, thank you again for you time Thanks, bye.

#st vincent #emma madden #interview #daddys home

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patricksmusicblog · 3 years

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DMX Discography Overview

It's Dark and Hell is Hot(1998): DMX's distinctive growl, aggression, and arresting flow is fully formed and at its highest potency here on It's Dark and Hell Is Hot. It's Dark and Hell is Hot is, for the most part, a dark menacing and street-orientated album. Some tracks even lean toward a horror-core vibe, "X is Coming" being the bleakest and most unsettling of the bunch. Still, there are deeply emotive tracks like Let Me Fly, Look Through My Eyes, and Convo, where DMX gets introspective and lets us in on his struggles internally and morally/spiritually. There are also hits here, like the hard but catchy "Ruff Ryders Anthem" and the chill summer jam "How's It Going Down." The album's production is handled by PK and Dame Grease, with the album's calling card produced by Swizz Beatz. On a broader level, DMX was a presence in the rap game filled some of the space that had been vacant since Tupac Shakur was murdered, passionate, aggressive, and visceral only specifically representative of the east coast. He also was the answer to the shiny suit luxury rap era Puffy was dominating with in 1997. The album is pure classic and certainly a top-tier album of 1998. Rating: 9.0/10

Favorite Tracks: Rough Rydahs Anthem, How's It Going Down, Intro, Crime Story, Look Thru My Eyes, Let Me Fly

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Flesh of my Flesh Blood of my Blood(1998): Flesh of My Flesh Blood of my Blood was released in late December of 1998 cemented DMX as the biggest rapper of that year and late 90s in general(Jay-Z notwithstanding). Aside from the Beastie Boys, the album had the highest first-week sales in a highly competitive year. As for the quality of this one, It's more of DMX's burst of rough and jagged rhymes. When he's not menacing(which is most of the time), he's as introspective and pain-stricken as he was on It's Dark, and Hell Is Hot. The apex of that would be "Slippin," an iconic song that is amongst the saddest tracks in hip-hop history as DMX open shares the trauma of his upbringing, being an addict and struggling to get out of it only to find its way back in it and everything that surrounds that in his past. It's really the fight in the song that makes the song his willingness not to quit and keep trying that makes the song "I got to get up, get back on my feet so I can tear sh*t up." What keeps the album from being the classic his debut was is that Swizz Beats takes the helm on most of the production here, which is hit or miss. DJ Shok, PK, and Dame Grease have a lot of the best beats here. They bring out that dark energy and tone that makes for X's best work. All in all, it's still a great project and amongst his best work. Rating: 8.0/10

Favorite Tracks: Slippin', Dogs For Life, Coming From, Black Out,

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...And Then There Was X(1999): ...And Then There Was X picks up were DMX previously left out brutal, pummeling bone-crushing violence come is to be expected. "One More Road to Cross" and "The Professional"(one of the albums hardest tracks) are early highlights. Then there's the heartfelt but mature writing of "Here We Go Again," one X's best tracks, and "More 2 a Song," the ladder of which speaks to DMX's avoidance when it comes to rapping about the flashy materialistic side of things. While this is DMX's third full length album, it sounds more like a full-fledged sophomore effort to It's Dark and Hell is Hot while Flesh of my Flesh' plays more as an extension, too, or a very good b-side to its predecessor. This album contains some of DMX most well-known hits it including his biggest "Party Up"(Up in Here), a high energy track produced by Swizz Beatz that finds DMX being peak DMX, the chorus is both funny and little corny, there's a good touch of humor in DMX's bars on the track that give it charm. Another well-known X track is "What these B*tches Want" ft Sisqo, a silly and misogynistic track that has its charm and humor but is a bit lacking as far as the chorus in my opinion. "What's My Name?" however, is a banger that's one of DMX's better singles and meant to be played at a high volume out of your car. ...And Then There Was X is another strong album from DMX, and its more consistent than Flesh of my Flesh' less visceral and hungry than It's Dark. 8.5/10

Favorite tracks: Party Up(Up in Here) Here We Go Again, What's My Name, The Professional, Angel, More 2 a Song

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The Great Depression(2001): DMX's fourth straight #1 album finds him trying new things. There are the rap-rock efforts like Bloodline Efforts, and I'ma Bang which will always be hit or miss depending on the kind of music listener you are. To me, they're listenable but amongst the corniest of DMX records in his catalog. The worst is the silly/sad "She Was Da Bomb" where X writes a track about basically impregnating a woman and threatening to be a deadbeat. Yeah, the lows here are amongst the lowest of his career. Transversely, "Who We Be," a socially conscious record, is one of DMX's best tracks ever, and "We Right Here" has a great beat and is amongst the best on the album. Aside from the hits, you get the heartfelt "I'm Missing You" and the thoughtful "When I'm Nothing". There are also more R&B sounds here which I think is a nice change of pace. The Great Depression is solid; it's less aggressive and consistent than any of the three albums before it; some songs really work, and a few don't. I think it's worth listening to; there are essential DMX tracks here, but I wouldn't consider the LP quintessential as a whole. 7.5/10

Favorite Tracks: Who We Be, We Right Here, When I”m Nothing, I”m Missing You,

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Grand Champ(2003): DMX's fifth straight #1 album is even more boom or bust than The Great Depression is. Where The Great Depression had weird moments and tracks that didn't quite work. Here X doesn't sound quite as passionate as he does early in his career. In an interview he did on 106 n Park around the time of the album's release, he'd spoken about not making what he should off his music, and I wonder how much that put a damper on writing and recording for this album. When it comes to what's here, the menacing brutality and growl is here, but it isn't as consistently visceral as it was early on. At 24 tracks, it's also a long, over-bloated album but even shorting it; I don't think the bulk of the music here holds up through time. "Get it On the Floor," has a terrible chorus, and most tracks between 13-23 are forgettable. As for the best of what's here "Where the Hood At" Produced by Swizz is a classic DMX track it's hard and has a great beat and hook. "Dogs Out" Which features Kanye on production. Then you have "We're Back" ft Eve and Jadakiss, another highlight and features pretty good verses from all three, but I believe Jada had the best performance. The international version of the album features the track "X Gon Give It To Ya" another very good single from X. This is an interesting listen, and depending how die-hard an X fan you are you may still enjoy this. I think there are tracks worth salvaging, but it isn't an essential listen. 6.5/10

Favorite Tracks: Dogs Out, Where The Hood At, X Gon Give it to Ya

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The Year of the Dog(2006):This is the point where the bottom really fell out on DMX's music. The highs here aren't amongst the highest of X's career, and the lows are certainly amongst the lowest—tons of generic and lackluster production, mediocre choruses. A weird rap/rock crossover. DMX's tenacity isn't as urgent or visceral, and a lot of what's here (tracks 2-10) sounds, sadly, like a caricature of himself(with "It's personal" as the exception). The best tracks on the album are sneak in at the end where you find songs like "Blown Away" and "Goodbye"; those are the most soul-bearing tracks on the album. As a whole, it's a below-average album that, aside from a few moments, The down turn reflected itself culturally and sells wise it was his first album not to go #1 and only to go gold, and by the mid 00s DMX wasn’t in most conversations when comes to being amongst the best . 4.0/10

Favorite Tracks: It’s Personal, Blown Away, Goodbye, Life Be My Song

Undisputed(2012): Undisputed was a well-intentioned, admirable comeback album for DMX. There are some solid moments here "Cold World" Speaks on what he perceives as the rap game getting weak. "I'm back" is one of the better tracks on the album. You can hear the pain coming through on "Have You Eva." I like "Y'all Don't Really Know" because it comes close to some of his early work. Still, it just isn't enough; there are quite a few missteps on this album, whether it'd be the awful "Sucker for Love" or "I Get Scared" X sounds weaker vocally, and the production is lacking. There's some charm to "I Don't Dance" with MGK but it's somewhat awkward and not among his strongest singles. It's better than Year Of The Dog but still far from the level of X's heyday. 5.5/10

Favorite Tracks: I‘m Back, Have You Eva, Ya’ll Don’t Really Know

DMX is an undeniable legend and quintessential to late 90s-early 00s hip-hop. His music and voice, and passion transcends its era and is easily felt now. His apex from 98-00' is highly recommended. Past that, it's a lot more hit and miss, but both the Great Depression and Grand Champ have some gems worth grabbing. Past that, it's even spottier but given X's internal struggles it was great we were even able to get those LPs. Fortunately, DMX seemed to be doing well and had finished an album before passing away, so I'm eager to hear what he'd been working on.

#DMX #discography #Rap #Hip-Hop #Music #Discography Overview #Late 90s #Early 2000s

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georgiaswarr · 3 years

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georgia warr

never been in love - gatlin

a song about wanting to be in love but not being able to be in love, which is very fitting for georgia’s initial situation. i’ve put this at the beginning of this playlist because - spoiler alert - the last song on here is also called never been in love and i think these two songs symbolise georgia’s journey in a very mint way. also, the first line of this song is “that boy from georgia was so sweet” which i think is pretty funny

somebody to love - queen

the title says it all. georgia wants to find somebody to love. i mean, she’s already found them, but we’ll get to that later.

paradise - coldplay

georgia is a big dreamer and yearner and i think this song really encapsulates that on so many levels. i mean “when she was just a girl / she expected the world / but it flew away from her reach / so she ran away in her sleep” that’s georgia !

tous les garçons et les filles - françoise hardy

french song because i’m ~quirky~ but this song is basically about seeing everyone else be in relationships and feeling lonely/wanting one for yourself

waiting for love - avicii

georgia is a hopeless romantic, but she’s still waiting for her own grand romance (she still hasn’t realised that the “love” she’s “waiting for” has already “come around”)

dear no one - tori kelly

georgia “i want someone to be in love with but there is no one” warr, at least at the beginning of the book

chaos - miki fiki

this song can be interpreted with various themes of the book in mind such as yearning for something you don’t have, feeling lonely, emotional turmoil, etc, it’s a banger

i walk a little faster - fiona apple

highjacked from @kindaorangey’s loveless playlist (they’ve done a great rundown here). this song has similar themes to dear no one, anticipating that romance will come to you, but it hasn’t, despite how hard you chase it, how fast you walk

when - dodie

shoutout to @drarrystar for recommending this song to me because so many of the lines reflect georgia to the core. just look up the lyrics and you’ll agree

deeper - ella eyre

“cause i’m scared, i can’t lie / i don’t feel the same inside / i can’t decide if i have the heart to confess” georgia thinks she can learn to love jason romantically if she just digs a little deeper

loneliness for love - lovelytheband

“anything at all not to feel alone / anything at all just to feel whole / ‘cause i keep mistaking loneliness for love”

a little more - alessia cara

“there you are with your college friends / you played in a marching band / i can't help but wish i knew you then / but i guess i know you now // it looks as if i've stumbled right into the palm of your hand // hey, you / hey, mr. knock on my door / i'm sorry that I've been emotions galore / am i crazy for wanting a little bit more? / a little more of you” georgia about sunil. she needs their guidance and wishes he’d been there for her earlier.

stuck in california - rightfield

a song about feeling alone and alienated by everyone and everything around you, and waiting for your “stars to align”, which fits georgia if you ask me

seven - taylor swift

georgiapip song !!!!!! it’s also about how alienating it can be to grow up and lose your childhood innocence, and i have a lot of thoughts about a very specific brand of growing pains that come with being aspec, but that’s a topic for another day

te amo - rihanna

this is a song about having someone be romantically in love with you and the heartbreak that comes from not being able to reciprocate those feelings --> georgia about jason

love love love - of monsters and men

same as te amo. it hits especially hard when you do love the other person so fucking much

ceiling won’t break - finish ticket

this song gives me georgia’s emotional turmoil vibes, also the line “i see no lights ‘cause the lights weren’t aimed at me” can be interpreted in a “cupid’s arrows didn’t hit georgia” way if you get what i mean

lack of emotion - skott

once again we are dealing with themes of not being able to feel the emotions that you “““““should”““““ feel for someone

let me go - hailee steinfeld

another song about georgia and jason’s (romantic) relationship and how it was doomed to fail from the beginning so she hopes he can let her go

i’m so tired - lauv, troye sivan

i’m just thinking about that line in loveless where georgia resentfully realises how many songs are about romantic love. she’s just so tired

crush culture - conan gray

and another song about being resentful of our romance-obsessed society, which georgia certainly is plenty of times throughout the book

home - ella eyre

christmas break time babey !!!! georgia has reached her low point and she’s going home

i love my car - belle & sebastain

“I pressed a cold hand against my car, which was as far up the drive of our house as it could get. I’d missed my car.” - loveless by alice oseman, celebrating all kinds of love since 2020

i’ve never written a song about a boy - eva westphal

this was actually recommended to me by @michaelholdenn for this playlist ! a song about the liberation that comes with not having to force attraction anymore

this is home - cavetown

i think months ago some ask told alice that this is a loveless song and i agree

why can’t we be friends - jordy searcy

this is about georgia’s strained relationship with pip and jason after the bailey ball and how she wishes they could just be friends again, the way they were all throughout their childhood

chiquitita - abba

okay fuckers THIS is literally the LOVELIEST song about friendship and wanting to be there for your loved ones and i’m sure georgia relates

open up - matt simons

“you’re hard to talk to with that wall around you” vs. “rooney had a solid brick wall round some part of her that nobody was allowed to know.” basically, georgia wants rooney to open up to her

just fucking let me love you - lowen

okay, yes, this song is very gay, but i think it can be applied to georgiarooney too ! the frustration this song expresses of wanting to shake someone and scream at them to just fucking let you love them is definitely shown in loveless when it comes to those two

less than i do - the band camino

georgia about pip. she hopes that pip will forgive her eventually. i mean look at the line “i still have your denim jacket” in the song - georgia still has pip’s jacket too, it’s perfect !!!

friends will be friends - queen

if loveless taught us anything it’s that friends sure fuckin will be friends

stick with me - olly murs

“we all get lonely / trying to find a place where we should be / trying to find someone to set us free / there are times a friend is all you need” you know when alice said that every character in the book feels “loveless” in some way at one point or another, but they all learn the value and importance of platonic love? yeah.

your song - moulin rouge

“and then, with three accompanists, i stood on a boat on the river wear and sang ‘your song’ - the version specifically from moulin rouge - to pip quintana, who didn’t yet know me as well as i wished she did, but despite that, was one of my favourite people i had ever met.”

wherever i live - alessia cara

you know the scene after georgia leaves pip and rooney to their first kiss? yeah, this song really reflects that mindset of half loneliness, half acceptance to me. listen to it.

take time - honest men

accepting your identity takes time ! even by the end of loveless there’s still days when georgia wishes she wasn’t aroace and the book presents this in an amazing and properly nuanced way !

die alone - finneas

"you asked me, ‘do you wanna die alone / or watch it all burn down together?’ / i said i’d rather try to hold on to you forever” this song is very much georgiarooney - finding each other in their darkest of days and watching everything they thought they knew (amatonormativity) burn down. together.

no lover - jetty bones

the next few songs are basically just one aro anthem after the next. this is another recommendation from @michaelholdenn - “maybe i don’t need a lover, i just need the friend”

solo - carly rae jepsen

highjacked from @kindaorangey’s loveless playlist. amazing anthem about how it’s okay to be single and how romantic love isn’t as fulfilling as society makes it out to be anyway

trust my lonely - alessia cara

i think in georgia’s case this song can be interpreted as her learning to finally let go of her pre-conceived notions of what love is and what she should want, her learning to “trust her lonely”, though lonely here just means romance-less

love is a town - josh gilligan

“if [romantic] love is a town then i’m passing through" yeah, romance is not for georgia and she’s starting to accept that.

new romantics - taylor swift

the loveless gang is the new romantics !!! they’re redefining love and romance !!!

team - lorde

“and everyone's competing for a love they won't receive / 'cause what this palace wants is release” anyway, let’s go found family song

wild things - alessia cara

now, i don’t know if alessia cara is queer but I DARE YOU to look at the lyrics of wild things and not tell me that this is the ULTIMATE queer anthem about found family and saying fuck you to respectability politics. i DARE you. anyway, loveless is also about found family and saying fuck you to respectability politics so it’s very fitting

never been in love - will jay

full circle babey !!!!! this is THE aro anthem so obviously i had to add it and comparing the “never been in love / and it’s all good” to the “never been in love / and i fucking hate that i couldn’t make it past a crush” message from the first song we can really reflect georgia’s journey of self-acceptance in loveless which i love a lot

#oof my playlists are loooooong #anyway shoutout to thunder kindaorangey for coming up with the concept of a playlist masterpost ily dude #playlist #osemanverse playlist #long post

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