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caswellprmanager · 3 years

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read it on ao3

Ship: Ricky Bowen/EJ Caswell

Summary: Snippets of EJ Caswell's life leading up to the mystery that is Ricky Bowen.

Notes: Hello. I decided to bite the bullet and post something here! This technically is in my Trans!EJ and Genderqueer!Ricky AU but I haven't properly written anything for it yet so consider this one to be the first official fic within that universe. Feel free to send some asks or other headcanons in my inbox about the AU! I'd love to hear what people think (but don't be unnecessarily mean. I will delete that very quickly.)

Disclaimer: I'm not an expert in all things transgender or genderqueer. I am writing from my own experience within the spectrum however so it's truthful to what I have been through, but will not represent everyone else's experiences. I also have friends within the spectrum who have given me great advice on how to go about these things but once again, it won't be accurate to everyone's experiences.

Warnings: Mentions of gender dysphoria, transphobia, and neglectful parents

People always told EJ that he had the picture perfect family.

His mom and dad were successful corporate lawyers, they lived in the wealthiest suburb in all of Salt Lake City, and he was the kind of child other parents would compare their own children to saying, "why can't you be more like EJ?"

But EJ knows that's farthest from the truth.

He doesn't have the picture perfect life or the paragon of White American families that people think they do. His parents are affectionate and supportive only when there are people around to comment on it. Most of the time, they're not even at home, leaving all of the child raising to their maids and other house servants. EJ spends more time at Ashlyn's house than he does at home because at least his aunt and uncle actually treat him like a son.

Because there are days his parents would forget they have a son. Sometimes they'd slip and call him their daughter, which makes EJ want to disappear from this world altogether. He supposes he should be grateful that they even bothered to pay for all the things he asked for — binders, testosterone shots, and regular visits to the doctor to check up on him throughout his transition. And he is grateful. He knows so many kids like him that can't even afford a decent sized binder without going bankrupt. He used to be that kid until he gathered up all his courage to come out to his parents.

But what they told him?

"Well, if you're gonna be our son, you will have to work twice as hard to make us proud now."

Yeah. It's a lot to process when you're 12 years old and scared shitless that you'd be disowned for "disrupting the natural order." But he figures things could be worse. So he sucks it up and vows to become the kind of son that his parents could truly brag about.

When EJ was a kid, he loved mysteries. His parents were the greatest mystery of them all. He's spent so much of his time trying to figure out what makes them happy, or angry, or sad. He's put the clues together and has a cork board of pictures and red string at the forefront of his mind whenever he so much as tries to interact with them. Soon, he sort of figured out what makes his parents smile at him — when EJ is excellent.

So, he became excellent at all kinds of sports, took up piano lessons, studied until his eyeballs burned with the lowlight of his desk lamp — all so that he could maybe get a pat on the back from his dad and a small smile from his mom. Their versions of "good job" or "keep it up." He drank that all in, craved it even, and worked his whole life until now to get even an iota of his parents' affection.

So, when he meets Ricky Bowen, the lanky and extremely clumsy skater who seems to live in the detention room, he was met with a brand new mystery to solve.

"Who's that?" EJ whispers into Nini's ear, who just seems to be irritated by the new person's presence.

"That's Ricky," she says with the barest hint of affection but with a whole lot of irritation. "My ex."

"Huh," He says, intrigued by the way Ricky's movements stutter like a half-finished stop motion film and how their wide doe eyes scan the room like — unironically — a deer in headlights. They looked nervous, confused, and all around terrified and EJ wants to reach out to them and tell them that this was a safe space. That they could be whoever they wanted to be in the theater.

He glances at Nini when Ricky starts singing a song that she seems to recognize. The immediate tensing of her shoulders and the way she subconsciously reaches out for EJ's hand for support tells him that this song... means something. Or meant something. EJ's not quite sure but he squeezes Nini's hand in silent reassurance, bringing himself to half-glare at the guitar playing skater just a few feet before him.

He met Nini during theater camp. A firecracker of talent with a voice that could melt the heart of even the coldest man on earth. She was beautiful in the spotlight and even more ethereal beneath the stars. She was kind, gentle, and a mystery that EJ solved quickly enough. She wore her heart on her sleeve despite it being broken because she believes that broken hearts can be mended with time and patience.

Nini was patient with him. She was patient with him when he took her up the little hill next to the campsite just to watch the stars on an old picnic blanket he stole from the camp counselors. She was patient with him when he couldn't keep up with the dance steps. Her hand was warm in his own and the flush of her palm by his neck was a grounding force that kept his head from going in the clouds.

She was especially patient with him when he took her to an empty tent and told her about his life. Nini was kind. Nini was patient. Nini was safe. And if she were to walk away and tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him after what he told her, he would have understood and learned to not associate kind brown eyes and ukulele calloused fingers to what could be barely described as home.

But she held his hand in her tinier ones, a smile on her face that radiated warmth that seeped into the depths of his soul, and told him that she was proud of him.

It was the first time that someone was proud of him... for just being him.

He cried into her arms that night, knowing he's got a lifelong friend within the kind brown eyes and ukulele calloused fingers of one Nini Salazar-Roberts.

"She thinks I'm a Chad?" He asks, less incredulously and more with a burning curiosity.

Nini rubs his arm comfortingly but he keeps staring at the cast list like it was going to burst into flames any second. "You're still a Troy understudy! You could still go on as him in one of the shows."

"Shows only run for three nights, Nini." He says with barely concealed frustration. Great. If he can't even get the role he was technically destined to play, how the hell is he going to explain himself to his parents?

You're not the lead? Oh, then we won't watch. If you're not onstage the whole time, why be there?

EJ grits his teeth and slowly brings his gaze to the person who has just taken away one more way for him to prove himself to his parents. Ricky Fucking Bowen, who stands there once again with their enormous brown eyes, gaping like a fish. EJ wants to deck them in the face. But Nini's hold on his arm grounds him back to reality and he lets out a long breath through his nose.

This is gonna be a long next few months.

"Look, I'm just trying to make the best out of a bad situation."

"Don't try," He ends up saying, still wiping at the blood caused by the basketball Ricky hit him with only moments ago. "It's painful to watch you do something you clearly don't want to do."

"What makes you think I don't want to do this?" Ricky asks with furrowed brows and EJ throws the wadded up tissue paper stained with his blood into the trash.

"You hated musicals before you auditioned. You landed the part of Troy without even fucking trying. And now you think you can get through rehearsals without fucking trying? It's tiring to work with someone who couldn't give two shits about this musical in the first place!" He says, every sentence rising in volume as he steps closer and closer to Ricky. "You also need to stay the fuck away from Nini."

Ricky scoffs then. "Why? Cause you're her boyfriend?"

"What? And you are?" He retaliates, which effectively makes Ricky click their mouth shut. EJ smirks. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

"Nini can choose whoever she wants to talk to." Ricky ends up saying with tense shoulders and a glare that could murder if EJ weren't already a person who doesn't fear death. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Well someone has to!" EJ throws his hands up in frustration, grabbing his jacket and zipping it up angrily. "Because you don't listen to Nini though, do you? Have you ever listened to her? Do you listen to anybody?"

"EJ I—"

"You better listen to me right now Ricky Bowen," he laces every syllable of Ricky's name with venom. "Stop trying to make things right. Stop trying to become a person you're not. If you actually cared about Nini or – god forbid – the musical, you'd stop trying and just get your shit together."

EJ doesn't even bother to look back at Ricky as he exits the bathroom, unaware of the look in Ricky's eyes when he walked away.

It isn't until Ricky approaches him one day after rehearsals that EJ was finally starting to unravel the mystery that was Ricky Bowen.

"Hey... EJ?" Ricky asks, looking at anywhere but at him and EJ would have been annoyed if it weren't for the way Ricky was holding themselves in front of him. They were tense, eyes glassy and unfocused whenever EJ caught a glance, and their fingers were gripping their bag straps so tightly that he was afraid Ricky was going to rip it apart if they weren't careful.

"Hey Ricky," He says with a softer voice than he's ever used with Ricky. "Is there something you need?"

Ricky's eyes dart around the still full rehearsal room, at the dangerously close proximity Miss Jenn was, at the stage managers that were just behind EJ who were reviewing the blocking notes, and finally at Nini who was engaged in a conversation with Carlos and Seb. Ricky's eyes lingered on Nini for a bit before they reluctantly settled on EJ's pristine white sneakers. "I would have normally asked Nini for this but – and you can say no by the way I'd completely understand – it's just..."

Ricky looks around again before leaning closer to EJ and shakily whispering, "Do you have any tampons?"

And just like that, the walls that were built around a certain Ricky Bowen were starting to crack. And EJ was allowed to see the smallest snippet of the kind of vulnerability that Ricky was capable of.

And it was the kind of vulnerability that he could relate to completely.

"My emergency stash is in my locker," He says, hastily packing up the rest of his things while Ricky continues to stand there dumbfounded. When EJ turns back to him with his own bag over his shoulder, he could see that there are a few unshed tears shining in Ricky's eyes. EJ softens for a second, knowing how difficult it must have been for Ricky to come to him for something so private.

"Come on. I'll even guard the bathroom for you." Ricky eventually follows him after a few seconds of just staring at his back and they fall in step around the corner. Ricky stays silent, fingers all fidgety and eyes still darting around like they'll be caught any second. EJ, instinctually, wraps a comforting arm around Ricky's shoulders. Ricky doesn't relax immediately but they do lean a little closer, somehow finding the weight of EJ's arm around them safe.

They eventually reach EJ's locker and Ricky smiles a bit because it's directly across from Sharpay's famous pink lockers. "Did you choose this spot specifically for Sharpay's lockers?"

EJ glances behind him and chuckles, rummaging through his stuff. "Oh yeah. If you say Ashley Tisdale three times in a row while touching her locker, you're guaranteed good fortune for at least a week."

Ricky looks at him with a smirk. "Have you tried that before?"

"Every year during finals week. I'm telling you, that shit works."

"Or maybe you're just really smart."

"Maybe," EJ says, finally locating his emergency stash of period essentials. "Or maybe it's just Ashley Tisdale bopping me to the top."

That's when Ricky lets out a laugh — an honest to god booming belly laugh that makes EJ pause just to stare at him. They look... nice like this. Without the worry lines and longing gazes at a girl who won't give them the time of day. They look just like a little kid, carefree and alive despite the world crumbling all around them, and EJ feels a weird surge of pride at being the person who made Ricky laugh like that.

He wants Ricky to laugh like that more. He wants to be the person who makes Ricky laugh like that more.

And so the walls around Ricky crack a little further, and the drawbridge is opened for one weary traveler to come in.

EJ doesn't notice the cracks on his own walls, nor the knowing little princess who watches from the east tower, smiling.

"Hey, what are your pronouns?"

Ricky doesn't look up from their practice skateboard, concentrating hard on their balance. "I don't have any. I'm just Ricky." They look up though, giving EJ a warm smile. "But go ahead and use any pronouns with me. I don't mind if it's you."

"So would you mind if I call you your majesty?"

EJ doesn't miss the flush on Ricky's cheeks at that and definitely doesn't miss the way they say "I'd like that very much." with the barest hint of embarrassment.

"Okay," EJ says with his chin propped up in his hands. "Your majesty."

Ricky falls off of their practice skateboard then, soon glaring up at a cackling EJ still with a blushing face.

EJ forgot his binder today.

And his body loved reminding him every time he took a step.

Thankfully, there wasn't going to be water polo practice today and he could get away with wearing multiple layers to school. But even with the sports bra, the t-shirt, the sweatshirt, and the letterman jacket doing a good job at making his chest look flat, he still felt his skin crawl looking at the mirror. His jeans hugged him a little too tightly, forcing him to notice the still feminine curve of his hips. His sports bra was a tad smaller than the last time he wore it, so the pinch at his chest doubled in size.

EJ resolved that he was not going to have a good day today.

But today was tech rehearsals and he couldn't ditch that. He was starting to really enjoy rehearsals now that he and Ricky are on good terms. Even the stage managers ask him to hang out with them time to time outside of rehearsals. EJ actually felt like... he really belonged somewhere now. And he wasn't going to let this ruin it for him. Not today.

"Hey EJ," He heard Nini say to him as he got out of his car. "What's with all the layers? It's pretty hot today."

"It's one of those days, Neens." He says with a heavy sigh and Nini just grabs his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Ricky rolls up to them two seconds later, their head suspiciously missing a helmet.

"How many times do I have to tell you to wear a helmet when you're skateboarding, Ricky?" EJ tries to scold the junior despite this weirdly overwhelming fondness growing inside of him every time he even looks at Ricky now.

"Haven't gotten into an accident yet," Ricky shrugs, smiling politely at Nini and changing it into a cocky little smirk the second they look at EJ.

"Yet being the operative word here," EJ rolls his eyes and opens his trunk for Ricky to stash his board in for later. "I won't drive you to the hospital if you end up getting a concussion for not wearing a helmet."

"Yes you will." Ricky says, knocking their shoulders together. "You love me!"

EJ freezes for a bit but before he could even respond, Ricky is already catching up to Big Red and Gina, waving back at EJ and Nini with a wide grin. EJ stares at him for a few seconds, not quite sure how to process the last few moments, until Nini waves a hand in front of his face.

"Hello? Earth to EJ?"

"Huh?"

"Care to share with the class what's going on?" The little smirk on her lips says it all and EJ was not going to fall for that.

"Nope. There's nothing to share."

"Mhm," She says, looping her arm around EJ as soon as he closed his trunk. "Of course there isn't, EJ." Nini pretends not to see EJ staring at Ricky as they walk into school. EJ pretends to not notice that she's pretending to not see EJ pretending to not overtly stare at Ricky.

Besides, EJ has gotten pretty good at pretending.

Aaaannndd that's it for now. I hope you guys liked that! I really enjoyed exploring trans!ej and genderqueer!ricky through this au and it means a lot to me. Maybe next time I'll write something in ricky's pov but for now thanks for reading !!

#ej caswell #ricky bowen #nini salazar roberts #rj #hsmtmts #trans!ej #genderqueer!ricky #tw: gender dysphoria #tw: transphobia #tw: neglectful parents #cloud's writing now #hsmtmts fanfiction #they're not really together yet here but #ej is Definitely pining at the end tho #and nini is the best i will not tolerate nini slander in my blog #caswen #ricky x ej #ej x ricky

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hotpinkboots · 2 years

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can i get a headcanon of lorme x urmom I mean

Hello there, pinkboots(PONKBO-). How are you?

Ok i cant be serious now uh

“PINK YOU MOTHERFUCCER WHERE ARE MY KIDS”

“.”

“Wait nevermind their in my fluff”

Subbies: kehheh

~Lorme x Reader Headcanons~

~~~~~~~~

"Tsk tsk, my my, Prince of Subcon. You should have more respect for your old War Commander."

"..."

"and i stole one of your subbies ok I love you bye"

Pink kisses the ghost.

Snatcher has been stunned for 20 seconds.

~~~~~~~

I'm doing absolutely fabulous,

💜🖕MeatEaterPerson69🖕💜

~~~~~~~

Enjoy~

~~~~~~~

~Lorme will NOT warm up to you immediately. He'll stand there, either staring directly at you, or ignoring you. He's intimidating, horrifying, if being completely honest.

~He is mute. Cannot speak. Not even a word, not a sound he can make. Even his footsteps are silent. It doesn't make a noise if he drops something. Not only is his voice muted, everything he does is silent. Thank Kloac for that curse.

~He can, of course, tap his cane on the ground. I hope you plan to learn Morse code.

~The man never learned sign language.

~Lorme gets a bit used to your (annoying) presence after quite a few times of seeing you. He will never approach you. He will never greet you. The only way to get to him is to interact with him yourself.

~This isn't him playing hard to get- he's just used to standing there, waiting for something...ominous. Something terrifying. Something to happen. Everyday is dark for him.

~Let me get this straight: Lorme is NOT EVIL. He's quite the opposite, actually. Just because he just stands there menacingly, in all black and a scary as hell mask, does not mean he's evil. Don't judge a book by it's cover. The second someone shows signs of being hurt or sick, he jumps in and helps. He was and is a doctor, after all. A good one, too. He's got a sweet heart despite his cold personality.

~When you begin to bother him and make random conversation with him, it won't seem like it makes a difference, but it truly does. Deep down he thinks, "...Somebody has decided to approach me. And that somebody desires my friendship. How very strange."

~Do not be frustrated if he walks away during your "conversation" with him.

~Lorme is annoyed easily, so don't try to be too friendly or constantly bother him.

~After a long, long time of working with him, he'll open up and answer some questions, tapping with his cane on the wall or floor to respond to you.

~He's that scary dude who stands there in the corner, but would 100% do Just Dance 2015 You Spin Me Right Round with you if you asked.

~Not only would he do it, but he would 101% win against you (or anyone for that matter)

~Lorme is very poetic (gets it from his older brother..), and will definitely write poems and love letters to you.

~Overheats easily due to his mask and heavy clothing. His breathing can be loud sometimes, and he'll seem more drowsy than usual. Will be more than happy to allow you to undo the leather hood around his neck, and place a cool washcloth on his soft, shiny feathers.

~He is ridiculously smart, and can always tell if there's something wrong, mentally or physically. Will give you check ups often.

~...If you have a headache or an ache in your body- or really anything having to do with being hurt-, DO NOT let him take care of you. There are certain things he does that will be soothing, but he learned to literally drill a hole in someone's head when they have a headache. He's an old fashioned doctor. Just because his remedies work, doesn't mean you should let him use them. Oh lawd he comin

~Lorme can play the piano! While he definitely can't sing (he used to have a wonderful voice when he could speak...), he's a professional at those beautiful ivory keys.

~He used to be very musical, actually. Before he became a doctor, Lorme simply wanted to be a pianist...he actually taught himself to play. Would be overjoyed, and hell, even a bit flustered if you asked him to play!

~Very calm to be around, and as I said, his mask smells of lavender (again, to keep the smell of death and disease away from his face). Wonderful at soothing panic and anxiety.

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

~Love, PinkBoots

EDIT: Upgraded and updated Lorme recently, so a few of these headcanons are not completely accurate anymore.

#doctor #that's one hot doctor #plague doctor #leeches #DID U TRY LEECHES #he's intimidating but pretty funny tbh #tbh #what's up doc?#reader #x reader #reader insert #Headcanons

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bubsdolan · 3 years

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Hey! Can you do a blurb where Grayson doesn't know that Y/n can sing and he hears her sing for the first time and is totally mesmerized by her voice.

in the rare occasion that the dolan household was empty, the complete slience was often filled with the calming sounds of the piano located in the depths of graysons room. an instrument that grayson believed to be purely for decoration, was graced by your fingertips whenever you were left home alone. not quite ready to share your secret talent with your other half.

you had taught yourself to play the panio as a child. at eight years old you found your escape from the crumbling foundation of the family life you were forced to grow up, by the melody of each key. singing came after. when you lose yourself in the music, you let the lyrics flow from your lips. not even needing to think twice about every note as you felt yourself be free.

fresh from the shower, hair gracefully flowing over your shoulder, body laced in graysons oversized tshirt- the scent of your boyfriend warming your nostrils and making you miss him even after a few hours apart, you make yourself comfortable at the piano stall. your fingers brush over the keys for a moment, collecting your thoughts before they effortless play the tune of dance with my father by luther vandross. a song you felt an emotional connection to, creating peace at mind for you whilst also fitting perfect with the tone of your voice.

the second you’re ears are blessed with the first key, you’re taken into a different dimension. singing your heart away at the top of your lungs as you feel yourself get lost in the music and a switch turn inside you. you’re in a complete trance, a blackout causing you to fail to hear the sounds of the front door opening and closing and the footsteps approaching your bedroom.

when grayson had arrived home, a take out bag of your go to order from montys, he was startled by the booming unexpected sound of a piano. at first he thought you were watching a film, maybe even playing tiktoks through a speaker but when he picked up his pace to the bedroom and heared the sweet sympathy of your vocals, he was put into a trance. mesmerised frozen in his spot.

standing outside the bedroom door, leaning his muscular arms against the frame to hold himself up, he couldn’t help but become infatuated by your voice and skillset, a pleasant surprise. he never knew you were musically gifted, so in seeing that you were the culprit of the beautiful medley, it made him fall deeper in love with you. grayson was captivated, blown away by what he was hearing. goodbumps rising on his skin as everytime you hit a hight note, the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall.

if i could steal one final glance, one final step. one final dance with him. i'd play a song that would never ever end. 'cause i'd love, love, love to dance with my father again.

grayson cried, his eyes gushing with tears in listening to the heartfelt, extremely personal and relatable lyrics. flashbacks of his blessed and happy memories with his late father, ones he often shared with you deep into the night. so far into heart to heart conversations that had grayson opening up to you like he had no other person before- not even his own twin.

with a heart full of love and tears falling nonstop from his now bloodshot eyes, his feet are carrying his body over to you. crunching down enough to lean his chin of your shoulder blade as he sighs happily in content. his sudden presence however startles you. it has you whipping your body round franticly, accidntly bumping random keys on your way, creating an sour melody that certainly wasnt what grayson had been witnessing a few seconds prior.

trying around and coming face to face with the culprit, a goofy, angelic smile on his features that has your heart rate resuming to normal. you place your hand over your heart, steadying your breathing as you playful squat at grayson’s chest. chuckling in assmument as you breathe out a sigh of relied. “bear, you scared me!”

“sing to me.” was all he said. once again you stare at him with widen eyes, like a deer in the headlights as an adorable blush rises to your cheeks.

“oh, erm- you heard that?” you avoid his intense gaze, misreading the looks of love, passion and endearment for one of a judgmental nature. one your family always gave you when you sang - particularly about your father, scouring you for wasting your time and energy on such a ‘useless’ and ‘meaningless’ talent. post traumatic stress from your upbringing and loss in your life.

“sing to me, angel. you have the most heavenly voice. so dreamy, so beautiful. my girl.” grayson rambles, catching your chin between his fingers as he drinks in the sight of you. the flusteed, embarrassed, bewildered sight of you.

“gray-” you try to fight it, but the picturesque hypnotising hazel puppy eyes he’s giving you, has you patting the spot beside you on the stall. your fingers once again tracing over the keys as you clear the lump in your throat. grayson dolan was obsessed with every little details about you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, the way you light up a room with just your eyes, and now he could add the voice of angle to the list of things he adored about you. he prayed from today that your future children and grandchild would inherit your musical talent, as he- well he was lacking in that department.

“sing with me?”

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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Only for You

Pairing: Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Summary: You like to sing and it ends up bringing you closer to the Mandalorian. Events take place sometime between Seasons 1 and 2. It’s pretty much fluff with a teeny bit of story.

Word Count: ~4600

Author’s Note: Inspired by the Adele version of Make You Feel My Love, I use several of the lyrics in the story but I did make one small change to make it fit the SW universe. Also in my SW universe, all Earth music is readily available by some magical means, don’t overthink it.

P.S. To everyone I tagged, I did a presumptive tag here since you were on my list for Dress Code and I thought maybe you’d enjoy reading this too? I’m sorry if you aren’t interested and just let me know if you don’t want to be tagged for any future works.

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The soft sounds of you singing to the child drift through the Razor Crest up to the cockpit making Din smile under his helmet. Ever since you came aboard to be the caregiver for his little foundling, life has been filled with music and boisterous sounds. It’s a nice change from the lonely silences that previously filled his days. He never really listened to music when he was alone, it just wasn’t something he was used to, but now he knows he would miss it if you weren’t singing all the time.

“Heeey, hey baby, I wanna know-ow-ow, if you’ll be my guy.” You sing to the child causing him to giggle and coo at you. You swear he is even bopping his head along to the rhythm of the song. You’re preparing the evening meal, dancing around the Crest’s hull and singing to your little green charge as you do. Thank goodness Mando doesn’t mind how much you sing and generally create a ruckus in the ship. From outward appearances, your primary worry should have been Mando’s dangerous lifestyle and the bounty on the child, but honestly, when you first started this job, your primary concern was about being way too noisy for the taciturn bounty hunter. You feel like you can’t help it though because you were raised in a loud household with three brothers where everyone was always talking, laughing, shouting, and generally being rowdy. Later, you were away at school living with hundreds of other students constantly surrounded by racket, the perfect environment for your noisy nature. Not to mention, you’ve always loved to sing and were known for being that one (slightly annoying) friend that was always humming a tune or breaking out in song like you were in a musical.

You were fortunate to be sent to a school with a great arts program and you relished your music classes. You had dreamed of someday being able to have a career in music, but as the war grew closer to your corner of the galaxy, those aspirations quickly faded. By the time you left school, you were lucky to find the odd teaching job as a tutor and the closest you’d come to having any sort of musical profession was singing and playing the piano at the local cantina a few times a week for tips. It had been fun for a while, but it wasn’t how you had envisioned your life. Playing the same requested songs night after night while increasingly drunk men hit on you loses its charm real fast. When your older brother, another bounty hunter, had told you about Mando needing some help with childcare, you had jumped at the opportunity for something new. So far it was proving to be the most rewarding job you’d ever had. Not only was the child unbelievably adorable, you’d also had the opportunity to travel to many new places and gain experiences that would have been impossible back on your home world. And while caring for the special alien baby was your main task, you found yourself helping out his father as much as you could too whether it was simply cleaning up around the Crest or making sure that Mando ate something on a given day. You had seen that he frequently put everyone above himself, going for long stretches of time without seeing to his own personal needs. He seemed to appreciate everything that you did for him, always quick to thank you even for the smallest of tasks.

You checked the timer on the food and saw that there were just a few more minutes until it would be ready. To keep the baby from getting fussy, you pick him up and spin him around a bit singing to him again, “So won’t you, please, be my, be my, be my little baby, my one and only baby...” It’s silly but you love singing songs to him with the word “baby” in them even if they aren’t traditionally songs for children. You are mid twirl with the child when you realize the Mandalorian has come down from the cockpit and is watching your little performance. You feel your cheeks heat up, a bit embarrassed that he has caught you being such a dork, but then he puts you at ease when he chuckles, “You two look like you’re having fun.”

“Yes, time for dinner and a little dancing,” you reply with a smile, twirling the child one more time causing him to erupt in happy giggles.

“Good, I’m starved,” Mando wanders over to the food, “Smells delicious. You’re too good to us.”

You put the baby back down and turn back to the little stove to dish out the stew you’ve made. You try not to think about the fact that you made this particular dish because Mando seems to like it so much. You couldn’t be certain but it looked like he licked the bowl clean the last time you made it. Mando moves to take his bowl up to the cockpit so he can remove his helmet and eat in privacy, but then turns to you to say, “I’ll let you know when it’s ok to come up for lullaby time.”

Ah yes, lullaby time, as if you would ever forget. It is the highlight of your day, and you would love to imagine that the same is true for Mando even though he’s never given any indication of the kind. When you first started this job, you had tried to give the Mandalorian as much space as possible not wanting to pester him in any way. As much as you could, you had stayed out of the cockpit treating it as his own private domain. So the first few times you put the child to bed, you stayed down in the hull as you sang him a few songs to help ease the little womp rat into sleep. But, after a few evenings alone like that, Mando had managed to be downstairs, tinkering away at little odd jobs while you put the baby to bed. At first you didn’t really think he was paying much attention to your singing, but by about the fourth night you realized he had been cleaning the same blaster over and over, and you began to suspect that he was listening to you as intently as the child. A few days later, he suggested that you come up to the cockpit for the child’s nighttime routine, saying “Maybe looking out at the stars will help him feel sleepy.” You had agreed, but, you had to admit, that it was more because you were curious about spending more time with your employer than finding a way to help the little one fall asleep faster. Mando had been the one to coin the term “lullaby time” as a way to let you know that his helmet was back on and he was ready for company. Your heart almost melted the first time he said it, and now you lived to hear him call down to say “Ok, you two, it’s lullaby time.”

In the cockpit, Din is gulping down his dinner. He knows he should probably slow down, savor his food a bit more, but truthfully he’s eager to spend more time with you and the child. He’s thought about staying down below with you both when he eats, but tipping the helmet up each time he wants to take a bite of food or a sip of a drink is a pain and he can’t risk the chance that one of you will see too much of his face. Din would never admit it out loud, but lullaby time is his favorite part of the day. It’s the one time he gets to spend time with you and the child just relaxing and enjoying your presence. Plus the fact that he gets to listen to your beautiful voice is a special bonus. At first Din would just watch you hold the child and sing to him, but now he’s a more active participant, often taking the child into his arms, rocking him gently as you sing to the both of them. He’s even started to ask you more about the songs you sing and where you learned them. It’s been a nice way to start conversations with you, to know more about you, something else he is eager to do.

When Mando calls down to you, you beam down at the baby and tell him happily that it’s time to get ready for bed. Scooping him up, you climb the ladder to the cockpit and you can see Mando already holding out his arms for the little one. You adore how affection this hardened warrior can be with his adopted son. You settle in the co-pilot’s chair as you start to sing some of your favorite songs. They’re all love songs, not really lullabies, but they are soft and dreamy and create the right mood for the evening. You’ve sung about four songs when you notice the child’s eyes are closed and you can tell he’s almost asleep. You’re about ready to collect him from Mando so you can put him into his pram for the night, when Mando asks, “What’s that song you sing about feel my love?”

“Make You Feel My Love?” you ask, “Is that the one you mean?”

“Yeah,” he replies, “you didn’t sing it tonight.”

It’s not exactly a request, but you understand what he’s hinting at. He’s asked you the name before, so you suspect he remembers the song fairly well. Even though the child is practically asleep now, you sing it for Mando, feeling touched that he must enjoy this particular song to want to ask about it.

When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

Din listens to the beautiful words and the haunting melody as your voice sings to him about all the ways you would show him that you care. He watches your lovely face as you sing and he imagines that you really mean what you are singing, that you’re singing it just to him, that you really would do all of that for him. When you get to the line I could make you happy, make your dreams come true he feels his heart lurch at the truth in those words, knowing how much you already make him happy every day and acknowledging that if you were ever truly with him, it would be like a dream come true for him. As the song ends, he sighs, both contented at hearing it but also saddened to come back to reality. Din won’t let himself believe that a woman like you could ever really love him so unconditionally. His life is too turbulent, full of violence and hardship, and what woman would want to saddle herself with that?

Even though you’re not privy to Mando’s true feelings, you somehow feel that you could tell how much he enjoyed hearing that song and so after that evening, you are sure to sing it as the last song every night. Usually the child is already fast asleep when you sing it, so each time it becomes clearer to you that you really are singing it just for Mando. As the days and week progress, lullaby time has come to be followed by conversation time since you have taken to returning to the cockpit after putting the child to sleep in his pram. At first you mostly spoke about your own life, answering Mando’s questions about where you learned to sing, what else you learned at school, and what life was like with your three crazy brothers. Yet, little by little he has begun to tell you about his own past, sharing stories about his training in the Mandalorian fighting corps and his earlier years as a bounty hunter.

The more you find out about Mando, the more you’ve come to develop real feelings for him. So when you sing that there’s nothing that you wouldn’t do for him, that you want him to feel your love, you know you really mean it. If only you could bring yourself to tell him in your own words, and not only in the song. Nonetheless, if you’re honest with yourself, you have no indication that Mando shares your feelings even slightly. While he does seem to enjoy spending time with you, and clearly he likes Make You Feel My Love, truthfully he could be thinking about anyone when you sing it or it could be that he just likes the music and the company, it’s not like there’s someone else here. Sure he’s always polite and kind towards you, but he’s like that with lots of people, as long as they’re not a threat. You’ve seen how quickly he can make friends, despite being an intimidating wall of metal, his quiet charm and respectfulness draws people to him in an unassuming manner. Perhaps you’re simply another friendly admirer swept up by his intriguing aura. So you do your best to keep these feeling to yourself, maintaining as neutral an expression as you can when you sing to him and doing your utmost not to embarrass yourself by sharing too much and potentially ruining the friendly companionship you’ve managed to cultivate.

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

“I don’t think this will take too long, and you two can probably get something to eat while we’re here.” You and the child have accompanied Mando to a cantina on an icy planet where he has a meeting with a potential client. It was too cold to stay on the Razor Crest with its meager heating system, and thankfully this place is warm and doesn’t seem too seedy. The bar top looks well-polished and there’s even a piano in here, hinting at a nicer atmosphere than most of the hole-in-the wall joints you’ve been to with Mando. The only unsettling thing is how everyone in the cantina is staring at your odd little group, the silver warrior, the alien baby in his floating pram, and you, the woman looking about with curious eyes. You have never quite gotten used to the way that Mando can silence an entire room just by entering it, but he seems unperturbed by the stares. He spots his client, an older looking gentleman, and moves toward that direction, but a group of patrons have decided to intervene first.

“What’s your business here, Mandalorian?” A tall, florid-faced man demands. He seems to be the unofficial leader of the group, as the rest of them are looking to him as the voice of authority.

“It’s not with you.” Mando is never one to mince words.

“We don’t need you coming in here and causing trouble, I’ve seen how you Mandos get.” A much shorter man, with clearly a death wish, sticks his finger towards Mando’s chest plate almost poking him.

“Not here for trouble.” Mando’s voice sounds gruffer than usual and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well you Mandos never drink in public, so what are you doing in a cantina?” The short man sneers at him and ugh, the way he makes Mandos sound like a dirty word irritates you to no end.

Not one to be baited into confrontation, Mando says nothing in reply, but merely tilts his helmet at the man, and you can feel the annoyance in his gesture.

“This a decent place for decent people, so why don’t you just turn around and get out of here?” The tall man suggests with a malicious tone to his voice. This place might look at little nicer, but the patrons sure are nasty. You look around and see more men standing up, and the tension in the room is palpable. You know Mando could really use the work, but the last thing he needs is to get into a fight just trying to land the job.

You have no idea what possesses you, but before you know it you’re saying “But if we leave now, you won’t get to hear me sing!” And you stride confidently over to the piano, plop yourself down on the bench, and begin playing out a jaunty song, a popular tune from your cantina back home. Despite the fact that everyone is now staring at you like you have lost your mind, you press ahead and start singing as if this was always the point of being there. You smile brightly at the room as if you are having the time of your life performing for them. Magically, your ridiculous ploy works and the men back off, a bit startled at first by the abrupt change in energy in the room, but as they beginning listening to you sing their animosity seems to drain away. Several other patrons are nodding their heads along with the music and light conversation picks up again. Mando gives you a small nod before finally making his way over to the client. You let the music flow and continue on to another song, keeping everyone’s attention on you. By the third song you feel more relaxed and grateful that you’re able to help Mando out in this way. A waiter comes over from the bar with a drink for you as you end a song, “That was smooth, what you did,” he gives you a little wink.

“Hope your boss doesn’t mind,” you say with a smile.

“The drink’s from him, he said he didn’t realize I hired a singer for tonight, but he’s real pleased with you.” He gestures to the man tending bar.

“That’s good,” is all you can think to say in response.

“Do you know She’s Always a Woman?” he asks. You nod smoothly and start the song and you glance over at the bartender again and see that he’s smiling widely, must be a favorite of his.

After that, a tip jar finds its way over to the piano and patrons come up to add to it and make their own requests, even the tall man comes over to give you a few credits and ask for a song. His cronies are now back to their drinks and none of them even seem to register that Mando is still here. The more you sing, the more you get into the fun of performing for a crowd again, making them forget their troubles and letting them take some time to enjoy themselves. When you glimpse towards Mando and his client, they also seem to appreciate the music. The client has a happy smile on his face and while you obviously can’t see Mando’s expression, his relaxed posture indicates an improvement from earlier. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave for once either.

Looking at the pleased faces and jovial manner about the cantina now, Din is impressed with how you managed to transform this place from hostile to welcoming in a matter of minutes. The client appreciated your help too as he was worried about hiring a bounty hunter in the first place, never having had a need for such services before. Fortunately, the client’s explanation of the job was fairly straightforward and it looks to be an easy bounty. Din is careful to repeat back all of the pertinent details to the client and the man seems satisfied in his abilities to find the quarry, which is good because his usual laser-like focus has abandoned him and he can’t stop himself from glancing repeatedly over to the piano and you. Normally, Din wouldn’t hang around and socialize with the client, but the opportunity to see you perform like this is too good to pass up. He knew you were talented after hearing you sing for him and the baby for so many evenings, but seeing you shine like this is a luxury. Din watches keenly as different emotions play across your gorgeous face as you shift from happy, upbeat songs to the more expressive and dramatic love songs. You are always beautiful to Din, but seeing you like this is special, like you’re glowing from within and it makes you all the more precious to him. He’s not crazy about the fact that you’ve clearly captivated at least half of the men in the room with your beauty and talent, but he knows you’re leaving here with him and it makes him feel rather smug. As Din listens to you sing a love song about how you think about the man you love night and day, he indulges in a fantasy where the song is about the two of you, especially when you sing about spending your life making love to him. It’s easy to imagine especially when you keep looking over at him with such an outright flirtatious expression during the song.

Under the guise of performing, you let yourself look at Mando with all of the desire and love you’ve been keeping under wraps for so long now. You’re careful to let your eyes roam around the room, flirting with the other patrons too, but every time you turn back towards Mando you let your gaze soften a bit more. As the evening wears on, you let yourself sing all of your favorite love songs, telling Mando how you feel with each one, promising that you’ll love him forever, that you’ll never let him go, and how he’s the only one for you. You know you’re just pretending that he understands why you’re singing each one, that they’re all for him. The only song you can’t bring yourself to sing is Make You Feel My Love. It seems too personal, too private to perform in front of all these strangers.

The crowd at the cantina starts to thin out and you know you’ve been here much longer than Mando originally planned. You decide it’s time to bring this interlude to an end and thank your audience for their attention, playing one last song to say good night. When the music ends, you stand and take a small bow to the round of applause. You collect your tips and an additional unexpected payment from the bartender, along with several requests to come back again soon. Mando is back at your side and he places a hand at the small of your back guiding you out the door and into the snowy night. You expect him to pull away once you are out of the crowd, but he stays close to you.

“Thank you for that impromptu performance.” He deep voice rumbles in your ear as you head back to the Razor Crest, “It was a welcome distraction from those idiots and I appreciated not having to get into a bar brawl.”

“Anything to lend you a helping hand,” you reply warmly.

He nods, and then says, “You’re really very talented. You could do well for yourself, singing full time in a nice cantina or a casino somewhere.”

“Tonight was fun enough, but I’ve had my time singing in a cantina, it gets old faster than you think,” you tell him, “besides why would I give up the best job in the galaxy?”

“The best job in the galaxy?” Mando scoffs a little at that.

“Sure it is! I get to travel around all over seeing all kinds of planets and people, take care of the most adorable magic baby ever, and spend time with his amazing father.” Oops, did you just say that last part out loud?

Mando is quiet for a beat, but then he says, “You’re the amazing one.”

You’re too shocked to say anything more than a mumbled, “Thanks” and hurry towards the Crest.

Once aboard you check on the baby, but he’s already asleep, so all you do is tuck his blanket around him a little more and then climb up to the cockpit where Mando is readying the controls for take-off. Even though you’re still a bit embarrassed by your unplanned compliment earlier, his response has made you curious. You sit quietly as you leave the planet’s atmosphere and the ship makes the jump to hyperspace, the whole time racking your brain for the right words so that maybe you can finally give Mando a clue about your feelings. You’re about to give up, when he says, “You didn’t sing Make You Feel My Love tonight.”

“Ah, no, no I didn’t.” Maker, you want to tell him why, but the words are frozen in your throat.

“That’s my favorite song.” Mando finally admits to you.

“I thought it might be,” you say, “that’s why I sing it every night.”

“But not tonight?”

You take a deep breath. He’s giving you the perfect opportunity and you gather all your courage as you tell him, “It felt too personal to share such an intimate song with all of those people. When- when I sing that song, your song, it’s only for you.”

“My song?” You swear his voice gets deeper when he tries to clarify what you mean.

“Yes, that’s how I think of it now.” You look at his visor where you think his eyes must be, trying to silently confess to him what that song means to you.

“My song.” Mando repeats, before asking, “Do you know why it’s my favorite?”

“No, I- I really don’t. I just knew you liked it when you asked me about it a couple times.”

He’s quiet again for a moment and you wonder if he’s going to elaborate when he finally says, “It’s my favorite song because I imagine that you really mean what you’re singing, that you’re singing it to me for real.”

“I am singing it to you for real,” you finally confess, “I mean every word each time I sing it for you.”

“You are? And you do?” Mando seems genuinely surprised, “How- How is that possible?”

You smile at him and because you feel like you might as well go for it, you stand up coming closer to him and then you reach down and take his hands in yours, “It’s possible because you’re such a wonderful man, you treat me with respect, you’re kind, you let me be my annoying, loud self as much as I want--”

“I don’t think you’re annoying,” he interjects.

“And see, that, right there, you always make me feel good, you just make me glad to be around you, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with you, why I am in love with you.” The words come tumbling out of your mouth and your chest feels tight, but then he squeezes your hands.

“I’m in love with you too, have been for a while,” he says softly. Then he tugs you closer to him until you’re sitting in his lap with his arms around you. He holds you close to his chest, and you can’t imagine how this could be any better, until you hear his rich baritone voice sing the last lines of the song to you,

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true

Nothing that I wouldn’t do

Go to the ends of the universe for you

To make you feel my love

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

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for any future fics!

Tag list: @sleepwithacommunist @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @rueblogsthings @mackycat11 @tv-zepeda @remmyswritings @mudhornchronicles @boomtownboy @mandosboobiez @hoodjarin @haley7242

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader

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homebody-nobody · 4 years

Text

you’re a part of me

(WHAT?? Jax wrote ANOTHER fic?? THREE FICS?? in TWO WEEKS?? I know, I’m shocked too. We’re gettin closer and closer to bein a Real Fic Writer lads.) How many juke first kiss fics will you write, Jax? all of them. as many as I want. I dunno. you're an adult obsessed with a tweeny-bopper show. shut up. who even has the patience for 5 +1s in this house it's 3 +1 and only barely bc I don't know how structured fic works so it's not even separate like it's supposed to be. anyway enjoy some dumb teenagers falling in love if the dialogue is cringe sorry lol I was trying to stay in the tone of the show and may have gone a little bit too disney channel (Also if you see typos/the same adjective used twice in one sentence/paragraph, no you didn't I don't edit it makes me nervous) ------------------------------- (ao3) ------------------------------ '... Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.'

(3 times Julie and Luke almost kissed and 1 time they did) ------------------------------------ Luke is overly physical. Theoretically, Julie already knew this. She’s seen him with the boys, the way he lives in other people’s space, hanging off Reggie and lurking next to Alex, not caring where his lanky limbs or knees or elbows end up, even if it’s in other people’s ribs. He was never like that with her, too afraid of the crushing disappointment that came when she phased through his hands. But now, there isn’t the strange, tingles-up-her neck way-weird, way-wrong sensation that came when she accidentally brushed through him. So even though Julie’s used to keeping a respectful distance, Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.

She notices it the first time during rehearsal, when they’re hashing out the particulars of a melody -- Luke wants it to go down, and Julie thinks it should go up. She plunks herself down at the grand piano to prove that her idea will sound better, fanning the half-finished sheet music out across the top, pointing out the measure they’re arguing over, smudged and crinkled from repeated erasings.

Luke narrows his eyes at her from across the room, his face set in his trademark (adorable) grumpy expression. “It just sounds better!” she argues. “Listen.” She puts her hands on the keys, left hand hitting the chord, right dancing over her proposed melody. “So please, keep chasing me…” she sings, building to the last word and sliding her voice over an intricate run ending in a step up. Looking up, she tilts her head, her wild hair piled into a tenuous bun, curly tendrils framing her face. Luke’s stomach does an interesting flip. “See?”

He stands up, swinging his guitar strap down across his chest before walking around her, putting his right hand over where hers had just been on the paper. He stands just behind her shoulder, sending goosebumps down her spine. “It should go down,” he insists. “It’ll flow better with the next line and then the break before the chorus makes more sense. Listen.” He puts his foot up on the bench and swings his guitar back up like it's an extension of him, playing a riff and singing the line they’re arguing about before dipping in to the next. “So please keep chasing me,” he sings, his voice gracefully stepping up and then back down, “Cause even though I’m runnin’, I know you’re the one I need.”

“You’re making it too simple!” she cries, slamming her hands down in her lap and turning to face him. She opens her mouth to continue the argument, but when she looks at him, she starts, finally realizing just how close he is. The toe of his sneaker brushes her leg, and he leans over the sheet music, closing her in against the piano. His dark eyebrows pull together, mouth slightly pinched as he concentrates, solid and strong and very much in her space. “Um --” she says.

He shrugs, shaking his head a little bit. “What,” he says, not understanding what she’s having a problem with. Julie’s eyes drop to his mouth, close and stupid kissable, and he notices the motion. The air crackles as both of them unconsciously draw closer, song forgotten, focused only on each other. Luke leans in, half an inch, and Julie’s breath hitches in her chest. This is stupid. She knows this is stupid. Luke is dead. Full ghost. Not real. Well, real, but not a viable option. He might have a physical presence now -- a very strong, very warm, very attractive physical presence -- but that doesn’t make him any more possible. And yet, here she is, pulled into him like he has his own gravitational field and she’s helpless to it. Luke licks his lips, and Julie tilts her chin up, fractional motion tiptoeing toward something irreversible and dangerous.

Just as she’s about to step over that uncrossable line, there’s an almighty crash. Both of their heads whip up in time to see Alex topple off his stool -- he’d fallen asleep as they were arguing. The noise wakes Reggie, whose head was lolling against his amp. “I didn’t do it!” he yells, flailing into sitting up straight.

Julie clears her throat and turns back to the keyboard, stretching her hands over the keys. “You’re, uh --” she says, glancing at Luke out of the corner of her eye to find him smirking in an infuriatingly adorable manner. “You’re right. It should go down.” He stands up straight, mildly surprised at his easy victory, and backs off from the piano to show Reggie the chords. They sketch out the verse and Alex adds a backing beat, the moment forgotten.

That is, until Carlos comes in to nag her to eat. Alex poofs out and Reggie dives behind his amp. Since the whole discovering-corporeality thing, they’re not totally sure if Julie’s the only one who can see them still, and they’d rather not have to explain to Julie’s dad what three teenage ‘holograms’ are doing living in his garage. Carlos delivers his message and then darts back inside, eager for dinner, and Julie stands up from the piano, gathering the half-finished song and tucking it into the folder she keeps her in-progress projects in.

Reggie emerges in a comic mess of limbs and grins at her, Alex poofing back on to his stool. “I’ll be back after dinner to finish this,” she says, hoping they don't notice the shake in her hands as she tucks the folder away. Luke pops his chin over the edge of the couch, behind which he’d taken cover.

“Hey Julie!” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Just remember; KISS.”

Her brain short-circuits, heart tripping over itself as she remembers his eyes on her, his shoulders and his hands and his stupid concentration face. “I, uh -- What are you --” she sputters.

A shit-eating grin spreads across Luke’s face as he puts his elbows on top of the couch and pushes himself up. “Keep it simple, stupid.”

Julie practically runs out of the garage. Alex raises an eyebrow, his gaze arcing from the door to land on Luke. “That was uh…” Luke schools his expression into one of false innocence. “Bold.” Luke rolls his eyes and brushes him off, but Reggie gives Alex a knowing look. Their friends are idiots.

It happens again one afternoon when Carlos has a baseball game and Julie has the house to herself. Or, so she thinks. She’s lazing around on the couch, avoiding her history homework spread out on the coffee table, Adventure Time babbling on the television. She’s slowly working her way through a bag of gummy bears and m&ms (her favorite candy combination), wearing an enormous hoodie that used to be her mom’s, home alone; life is fantastic. Until --

“Oh, sweet, cartoons!” Luke poofs into existence directly next to her on the couch, and she starts violently enough to shake candy into the couch cushions. Some of it lands on his chest, and he holds up a green gummy bear with a wistful expression. Julie just stares at him, still mildly in shock, definitely still annoyed, and really not in the mood to endure his moping about food when she was having a perfectly nice time by herself.

“Hey,” he says, either ignoring or unaware of what he’s just done to her heart rate and her peaceful afternoon. “You think now that I’m corporeal --” (he over-pronounces the word, having just learned it from Flynn days before) “I can eat like, regular human food?” It isn’t until he looks to her for an answer that he realizes what he’s just done. “Oh, sorry,” he says, that same stupid-ass grin settling on his face, not sorry even a little bit. “Did I spook ya?”

His glee at the pun, which he definitely stole from Reggie, sparkles in his gray-green eyes, and Julie’s heart, which had just started to recover from his sudden appearance, trips over itself one more time. Emerging from the shaken-up snowglobe of her brain, she blurts out her first thought. “You’re the worst,” she says, even while thinking the opposite.

He looks genuinely hurt for about half a second before turning the gummy bear towards her, too, and speaking for it. “You should be nice to Luke,” he says in an absurd voice. “He’s so handsome and talented!” He laughs at his own joke and pitches his voice up to continue with the bit, but she snatches the candy out of his hand and pops into her mouth, grinning. He feigns shock. “That bear could have had a family, Julie.”

“If they did, they’ll all be happy together in my stomach,” she says, eating another one to punctuate the statement. Luke laughs, and the sound has a heart-stopping melody of its own. It’s comfortable, the relationship that they’ve developed with each other. He always laughs at her jokes and is the first to offer her a compliment after rehearsal, and she loves his dorky sense of humor, even when she gives him a hard time about it. They write music and goof around, and even with the (very strong) undercurrent of romantic (she hopes) tension between them, a friendship sits comfortably on top. He’s only been in her life for a short time, but she can’t imagine it without him. Her feelings for him endanger that, so she does her best not to let it show. He asks her what she’s watching, and she explains the basic premise of the episode so that he can understand what’s going on.

She’s hyper-aware of him as they watch the show, and she envies the ease with which he occupies her space, his shoulder brushing hers, their knees occasionally bumping. He slouches all the way down on the couch, one foot kicked up on the table, turning the remote in his hands and messing with the battery cover, completely at home. (He’s always fiddling with something -- a pen, his necklace -- or bouncing his leg, or clicking a guitar pick between his teeth. It’s a habit that’s mostly adorable and only sometimes annoying.) If he notices her staring at him, he doesn’t say anything.

It takes a couple more episodes, but she finally relaxes, and the distance between them -- already spare -- vanishes, her shoulder tucked under his, her head angled toward him, their feet bumping on the table. Half her attention is on Finn and the land of Ooo, and half on the boy beside her, who doesn’t seem to give any indication that he’s thinking about this as much as she is. Luke has a way of pulling her in until she’s closer than she ever planned to be, like she can’t help but touch him. Ever since the night they played the Orpheum, he’s become magnetic, his presence a force she can’t resist. If she tilted her head down, just a fraction, it would be resting on his shoulder. What would he do? Would he shrug her off, or rest his head on hers? She watches his hands play with the remote, imagining what his strong, slender fingers would feel like laced with hers. She’s had crushes before, of course -- she liked Nick all the way from seventh grade up to this year -- but nothing so real and powerful as this.

“Don’t you think Finn sounds just like Reggie?” Luke asks, pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, and -- oh.

He’s very close.

His eyes always remind her of an overcast sky, swirling with unknown depth, and they widen when they meet hers, filled with awe. Blood rushes in her ears, muting the TV, tuning out anything that isn’t him. Her heart is beating so hard and so fast she wonders peripherally if he can hear it, and then that thought fizzles out with the rest of any kind of logic when his gaze drops to her mouth. He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her!! Panic and elation and anticipation all scramble in her chest. She’s never kissed anyone before, and even though she’s never asked, she knows he probably has. What if she’s bad at it? She’s half freaking out and half telling herself to shut the hell up as he turns his entire body towards her, his hand reaching up to hold her face and --

The front door slams open, announcing Carlos and Ray. “Mija!!” her dad calls. Luke jerks back from her like he’s been burned, eyes filled with absolute terror, before he disappears.

“JULIEEEEE!!” Carlos hollers, launching himself across the living room at her and landing on her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Her arms come up around him automatically, despite all the sweat and the diamond dirt sticking to it. Feeling mildly shell shocked and like she’s been hit by a hell of a lot more than her little brother, she barely listens as Carlos and their dad babble over each other in an attempt at telling the story of Carlos’ game-winning home-base slide. She’ll be happy for him once her heart rate slows down.

Luke stays away for almost a full twenty-four hours after that particular mishap, long enough she almost asks Reggie and Alex if he talked to them about it. There’s about a thousand reasons not to, but mostly, she doesn’t know if she can even explain just what happened. She does tell Flynn, who launches into a very confusing monologue that starts with her admonishing Julie for thinking anything good can come from involving herself with a literal ghost and ends with her gushing about how many cute love songs they could write together, zero percent of which makes her feel better.

The only reason he doesn’t continue avoiding her is rehearsal, which, of course, he would never miss. She’s hoping to talk to him before they get started, but then the bus gets stuck in traffic and all of her boys are already set up with their instruments and having an impromptu jam session by the time she gets home. “What --” she hisses as she heaves the doors shut behind her. “Did I tell you guys about playing in here without me?” Alex shrugs and apologizes, and she can’t really be mad at Reggie, at least not for long.

But Luke -- he barely looks at her, nervous fingers dancing across a complicated riff even as the other boys stop playing. It takes a second of silence before he looks up to see the rest of his band staring at him. “Oh,” he says, the phrase ending in the discordant sound of fingernails on steel strings. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

They get started, but nothing sounds right. Luke rushes the tempo and refuses to make eye contact with anyone, spinning off into fancy riffs that have no place in the song they’re working on. Reggie keeps trying to keep up with him, tripping up Alex and frustrating Julie, and when the song grinds to a cacophonous halt for the fourth time, she stands up from the piano. Reggie takes a step back.

“What is your problem?” she practically yells, stomping over to Luke. He’s been surly and unusually stubborn, and the shift from his usual cheerful, passionate demeanor builds her own stewing anxieties to a dangerous head.

“It’s not my problem you can’t keep up,” he says, and then, after watching the words register in Julie’s expression, immediately regrets it. Alex’s eyebrows shoot up and Reggie makes a very soft ‘ooooohhh’ noise under his breath.

“It’s not keeping up if you can’t hold a steady tempo,” she says, too upset over his refusal to cooperate to catch the reaction from her bandmates.

“Okay, so maybe I was rushing,” he admits, trying to walk it back. But Julie’s on a roll, and once she gets started laying into him, she very rarely lets up.

“Thank you!” she yells, the sarcasm clear in her tone. She’d been especially fond of the product so far, a song she thought embodied the perfect blend of Luke’s harder edge and her singer-songwriter roots. His sudden, uncharacteristic left turn is as much an interruption in their rehearsal as a knock to the tenuous pride she’d been building in the piece. “And what are all those riffs you’re tossing in? You have to hear how they don’t fit.”

“Oh come on,” he says, proud in his ability and therefore less willing to step down. He rolls his shoulders back and moves toward her, the challenge set in his spine. “I was shredding and you know it.” Luke is sweet and kind and silly and compassionate, but he’s also a musician, and a lead guitarist at that. His ego, though it rarely becomes an issue, is far from insubstantial.

“If you want a solo, fine!” she cries with exasperation, her hands flying through the air like they always do when she’s upset. “But you have to say something so we can give you room for it!” Her annoyance has turned down the sensitivity on her Luke-nonsense monitor, caught up enough in the trouble that she can’t see that he’s riling her up on purpose.

“What, you afraid of a little improvisation?” He’s smiling now, and his obvious glee, such a stark flip from where she thought this was going, throws off her tirade. He starts walking toward her, and his newfound physicality gives him an ability to fluster her to a much greater degree than before.

“No --” she stammers, stumbling backwards, distracted out of anger by his sparkling eyes and the power in the body approaching rapidly. “That’s not what I --” There it is again, that power he has to turn the rest of the world into radio static, her vision blurring and her hearing dulling until it’s just Luke filling up the world in front of her.

“C’mon Julie,” he says, and right now she hates his stupid smirk and the stupid way he rolls her name around in his mouth before letting it out. “you have to take risks once in a while.” She’s backed up against the piano now, her hands wrapped tight around the lid, and he’s still pushing it, strong and warm and undeniably, frustratingly male in her space.

But Julie isn’t one to let him intimidate her into silence, no matter how cute and well-muscled he may be. She takes a breath and looks him in his ridiculous sparkly eyes, poking him in his absurdly firm chest.“I am not afraid of taking risks, mister,” she says, “Let’s not forget who performed in front of her entire school to get back into the music program --”

“My idea,” he scoffs, not backing up. Why isn’t he backing up.

“Or who fronts a band of actual ghosts!” she continues, her voice increasing in volume again, and the speed of her heart tripping over itself could be from the argument or the boy who’s collarbones are less than a foot from her face. Both are entirely possible.

“Less ghost now,” he reminds her, tilting his head, his weight leaned one one leg, his hand resting on the head of his guitar, relaxed when they’re supposed to be arguing.

“You just get to poof out after we perform!” she says, only about two-thirds of her mind still focused on the fight itself, the other third completely wrapped up in the feeling of Luke in front of her. “I’m the one who has to stick around and ask questions!”

“So you’re saying you take chances,” he says, diabolically diplomatic instead of challenging. He leans forward, putting his hands on the piano behind her, caging her in with his arms. She refuses to back down again, even though his face is now inches from hers. “You’d take a leap of faith?”

“Yeah,” she says, only half-certain, because she’s not totally sure they’re still talking about music, and her heart is in the base of her throat and her stomach is somewhere around her shoes, and suddenly her hands are sweating when they definitely weren’t a minute ago. This definitely isn’t an argument about the song anymore.

“Oh yeah?” he says, and there’s the challenge again, except this one sounds more like a dare, and he’s definitely looking at her lips this time, not even trying to be subtle about it, and her hands are braced on his forearms and when did they get there? And Luke is warm and when she looks up, his eyes are on hers, and despite all that bravado and provocation there’s still a question there, and all she would have to do to answer is lift up on her toes and finally, finally press her lips against his, and --

Alex coughs. The oxygen goes out of the room like someone opened an airlock, and Julie feels herself sink, just barely, back down on her heels. The world fills back in, colors and sounds suddenly too bright, too abrasive. Tearing her eyes off Luke, she glances over his shoulder to where Reggie and Alex are, still with their instruments, watching them intently. Alex looks politely put out, his eyebrows tilted up with incredulity, like he's asking if they seriously just made him watch that. Reggie, on the other hand, hides nothing in his expression, shock and amusement there in equal parts as he glances between Alex and the two of them still tucked close against the piano, jaw askance in a surprised smile.

"Are you done?" Alex asks, in a tone that sounds less like a question. "It’s not that I mind…" he gestures between the two of them with a drumstick. "This, but like, time and place, dude." He's not talking to Julie. Luke clears his throat, appropriately chastised, but still looking smug as shit.

"Um, sorry," she mutters as he returns to his spot next to his amp.

Alex shrugs. "Not your fault," he says, "from the top?"

"Uh," she says, frozen for a moment in embarrassment and confusion. She looks to Alex, and he gives her one of his soft, kind smiles, the sort that makes her feel like everything is going to be okay. “Right, okay,” she finishes, as her hands twitch and she settles back into her body. Rushing back around to the bench, she flexes her hands over the keys, curling them into fists and then back out again when they tremble. “From the top.”

The rehearsal goes -- okay, after that. The magic is missing; therefore, while she usually feels inspired and courageous and empowered walking out of the garage, she just feels exhausted and drained. She eats dinner with her family, and her dad definitely notices that she’s uncharacteristically quiet, but saves asking about it until after Carlos is safely sequestered with his iPad. “How ya doin, kiddo?” he asks as she helps him clear up the dishes. “Everything okay?”

Julie looks at her dad with mild alarm, wondering what exactly he knows. He does his best, he really does, but it took him a while to even notice she was in a band. Not to mention, he still believes they’re holograms. “Um,” she says convincingly. “Yeah?”

He smiles kindly, in the way that means he’s very politely calling bullshit. “Alright, mija. What’s going on?”

Heaving a sigh, Julie keeps her eyes on the dishwasher she’s loading, trying her best to plan an escape route out of this conversation. “I promise, Dad,” she says, “It’s nothing.” and then, what she thinks are the magic words. “Boy stuff.”

But Ray’s been prepping for this, had conversations with Rose about it before she passed, while the cancer slowly ate her alive. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to be there for her daughter through the time in her life a girl needs her mother the most, and she wasn’t about to let him hide behind toxic masculinity and leave Julie to figure it out on her own. “Okay,” Ray says, trepidation clear in his voice but also not unwilling to approach the topic. “What’s his name?”

Julie almost drops the pot she’s scrubbing. “Does it matter?” she asks, her voice crawling up several octaves.

“Just trying to learn who is in my daughter’s life,” he answers diplomatically, sitting down at the counter to make it clear he’s not letting her out of this one easily.

“I promise, Dad,” she says, doing her best to frantically dodge the interrogation she knows is coming, regretting she brought it up at all, cursing herself for being so obvious. “It’s dumb. You don’t even know him.”

Ray nods slowly, pretending to believe her. Julie goes after the pot a little harder, because maybe if she just finishes the dishes she can go upstairs and bury herself in her bed and not have to have this conversation anymore. “It’s not that guitarist, is it?” he asks, and her spine goes stiff as a ramrod. Ray’s her dad, but he’s not blind. He’s seen the way they look at each other when they perform, the way the boy follows her around the stage like a puppy, desperate for her attention, disappointed when she jams with the other members of their band and not him. He’s an excellent musician, but Ray knows too many stories of near-legends gone sour with misdirected young love.

“No!” Julie cries immediately in an obvious lie. “Of course not!” She turns, half-laughing, explanations falling out of her mouth “We’re just friends,” she insists, lacing her fingers in front of her and nodding exaggeratedly. “Just friends. Only friends. Uh-huh. Friends. And!” she continues, gesturing widely, “he doesn’t even live here! So that… wouldn’t even make sense!” she laughs awkwardly. “So no way. That it’s him. No way it’s him.”

Ray sighs out a laugh that Julie’s too panicked to hear and leans forward on his elbows. “Alright, nina. Just be careful, okay?” She’s nodding along, edging her way towards the stairs. “You and your band…” She looks like Rose, in that hoodie that practically swallows her, hair piled messily on top of her head. Her mom was also a terrible liar, he remembers fondly. “You have something special. Don’t throw that away for a boy.”

Julie nods rapidly and then bolts, thundering up the stairs before throwing her bedroom door closed behind her and diving headfirst onto her bed, burying herself in decorative pillows. How does everyone know?? First Flynn and then Reggie and Alex and now her dad? Is she that obvious? (Um, yes.) She flops onto her back, staring up at the colorful tapestries slung across her ceiling, the string lights and posters and art. Usually, she loves her room, the feeling of her creative mind as a space she can inhabit, exploring her heart and the things she loves without having to shut out the outside world. But tonight, she feels trapped in her own head, so she grabs her notebook and squeezes out the window, perched on the roof outside her room.

The evening air is cool and crisp, the gentlest bite warning the oncoming winter, as much as there is a winter in LA. She spends a while scribbling down half-baked lyric ideas and doodling angry black scribbles around the edges of the pages when nothing comes out right. It’s harder to write on her own, now, without the steady pulse of Luke’s genius behind her, the electricity that flows between them as they create impeccable harmonies. Sometimes, it feels like music belongs to the both of them together, a joined force, like they’ve given up their individual melodies for something greater. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Eventually, she just ends up holding the notebook open to ‘Perfect Harmony’ with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her legs, her chin propped on her knees. She still hasn’t shown it to Luke, afraid of how real it feels, how clear it makes her feelings for him. Also, it’s a ballad, which they haven’t even approached yet, and she has no idea how Reggie and Alex will feel about such an explicitly romantic duet. She’s thinking that maybe she might be able to vague it up, maybe even make it a solo piece, when Luke appears next to her, like thinking about him draws him to her. (Which might actually be true -- she hasn’t examined that very closely.)

“Hey!” he says cheerfully, all awkwardness from the evening’s rehearsal ostensibly disappeared. He plucks the notebook out of her hand, using the other arm to hold back her immediate demands for its return. “New stuff?” he asks. This is not normally such a grievous invasion of privacy. Ever since they started writing together, their songwriting journals have become common property, and half the pages in hers are marked up with his handwriting and vice versa.

“It’s not ready yet!” she cries, pushing against the (stupidly strong) arm he has across her collarbone, willing to climb bodily over him to snatch the notebook back. Luke’s face very slowly falls as he reads it, the lyrics sinking in, and her protests trail off as she stops scrambling to grab it out of his hands.

He stands suddenly, pacing across the roof. “Did you --” he starts, breathing shallowly, his tongue tucking his teeth between his lips, nostrils flaring before he speaks again. “Why did you copy this out of my songbook?” It’s not accusatory, only a question, born of true confusion.

“I didn’t,” Julie replies without skipping a beat, equally baffled.

“I wrote this after the garage party,” he says. “How is it in your notebook?”

“I wrote it at school before the garage party,” she replies, doing her best to keep down the memory of the Luke in her imagination and the song coming to her fully formed in the form of a Patrick Swayze-esque daydream. She didn’t even tell Flynn about that part.

“At school…” Luke repeats, studying the lyrics with a furrow between his eyebrows, and as much as Julie is also reeling from shock at the mystery, it’s kind of adorable to watch him try and solve it. “This doesn’t make sense,” he says, looking up at her, signature grumpy expression in place. He tilts the notebook flat, like he’s presenting it to her, hoping she has the next steps. Like he’s reached his conclusion, and it’s that he’s confused.

“It doesn’t,” she says, and it comes out as half a laugh unintentionally, just looking at his ridiculous, adorable face.

“Why are you laughing?” he demands with exasperated urgency. “This is super weird!” He rushes over and collapses next to her, a mess of flannel and limbs and beautiful dumbass. He shoves the notebook back into her hands as she folds her legs underneath her, relinquishing her grip on her knees.

“Yeah,” she sighs, unable to wipe the grin from her face. “Yeah, it is.” Luke looks like he wants to ask her what she’s smiling at, but then he starts smiling, too, because her happiness is his happiness. Julie’s already past the strange coincidence, lost in the joy of his gray-green eyes and the feeling of him next to her. She’s too used to strange, to the ever-changing rules of the afterlife and the constant uncertainty that Luke and her boys bring to her life. Yes, it’s strange, but she’s in a ghost band and her crush is dead and still manages to look at her like that so she has a certain level of perspective when it comes to things like this.

“What are you --” Luke tries to say, but her eyes are on his and they’re warm and brown and kind and he’s finding it a little hard to form sentences.

“This is ridiculous,” she says, and he’s nodding without knowing what he’s agreeing to. “We wrote the same song on the same day,” she laughs, and he nods again, half-listening, half lost in her. She’s excited now, about the possibility brought on by magic and her connection -- their connection -- souls tied together with passion and music and love. “That’s impossible!” It cements something for her, the feeling of coming together, of sliding into place. They’re so solid, tight, together, on the same wavelength… musicians have put it a thousand ways throughout the years, to communicate the feeling of a co-writer, a bandmate, a partner, reading your mind, singing the next line, playing the next riff that was just in your head. Julie and Luke get the added bonus of being inexplicably spiritually linked. Nothing can break that, or replace it. She’s not scared of it, anymore.

“Impossible,” he echoes. He always feels a little bit stronger, a little more alive whenever he’s with Julie like this, just the two of them, hanging out or writing music, and he’s in her immediate proximity, soaking in the warmth of her brown skin and brown eyes and the chaotic energy of her wild, incredible hair. She pulls him in, without knowing the power she holds or the light that she emits, casting a golden glow over everything around her.

“Luke,” she says, and he tunes back in, realizing that he’s steadily leaning toward her as they sit on the roof, Julie cross-legged, Luke angled toward her, one leg stretched out, his elbow propped on his other knee. “Are you listening?”

“Um,” he swallows, “Yeah?” but he’s looking at her lips, not her eyes, and he’s thinking about kissing her, just once, just to see what she tastes like, remembering the smell of gummies and m&ms, hoping she’ll be just as sweet. She doesn’t say anything, mostly because she forgot what she was going to say in the first place, watching his eyes watch her mouth, breathing him in. He’s too close again, closer than any friend or bandmate should be, and there’s no mic between them, and the door to her room is closed, and there’s no bandmates or brothers or dads, and her heart pounds in her chest.

When she tilts her chin towards him, she feels ready, finally, knowing what he means to her. Only a breath separates them, but they both stop, waiting for the inevitable interruption, the door slamming open, or someone calling up from the yard below, but it doesn’t come. Realizing what they’re both waiting for, they breathe out a simultaneous laugh, their foreheads dropping together. The tension fades, and Julie’s smile feels uncontainable, demanding every inch of her face as this beautiful, goofy, genus, talented boy adores her while she sits there, falling in love with him.

It’s easier, this moment, than the one before, because it feels less laden with the weight of someone pulling away, unsure or unwanting. This moment is comfortable, joyful, the two of them acknowledging every minute of want and disappointment and hilarious misfortune over the past few days, acknowledging what they would have asked for instead. And when Luke finally reaches up, pulling her in gently with his hand on her neck, his thumb sliding over her jaw, it’s with confidence and tenderness, reassured that she wants this, too. Julie leans easily into the touch, and when their lips meet, the spark and rush is better than any performance, any screaming crowd drowning in lights. They kiss each other, moving together, leaning in as one, harmony made in the movement of mouths and the press of lips, and this moment -- it’s perfect.

#jatp #juke #julie and the phatoms #julie x luke #luke x julie #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #homebodynobody #julie molina #luke patterson

50 notes · View notes

kaepopsicle · 4 years

Text

ncts majors in uni.

this is all my personal opinion. tehe シ enjoy! (some of them might have majors & minors :))

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𝐽𝐼𝑆𝑈𝑁𝐺 . 𝑆𝑂𝐶𝐼𝑂𝐿𝑂𝐺𝑌 // 𝐷𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸

I feel like since he has a big heart he would like learning about others

The dance one is kind of a given, he does it as a minor but more for the fun of it

I can see him being someone that works with social services

Even though he’s shy he’s good at understanding others

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𝐶𝐻𝐸𝑁𝐿𝐸 . 𝑆𝑃𝑂𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝐵𝑅𝑂𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺

He is such a good speaker I can see him being a sports broadcaster

At basketball games specifically

He has a strong voice which he can use for things like that

He also loves sports (especially basketball) and I think he would do a good job at it

if he was the sports broadcaster I might actually watch sports

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𝑌𝐴𝑁𝐺𝑌𝐴𝑁𝐺 . 𝐿𝐴𝑊

This boy has such a big mouth and just knows what to say at the right times

But he also seems like the type of person to have a strong sense of justice

He seems like an intelligent person who knows what’s right and wrong (good morales)

Him also being charming and convincing he could do a good job at getting people to believe what he’s saying

Him being a lawyer is just a hot concept

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𝐽𝐴𝐸𝑀𝐼𝑁 . 𝑃𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝐸𝐷 (ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑗𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑜)

He has said before if he wasn’t an idol he would be an doctor

And just big hearted nana would be such a good doctor

He probably would be a pediatrician, he’s so good with kids

He’s also quite intelligent as well so I know he would be good in med school

Just imagine him as a doctor y’all lab coat in all, I would never eat an apple

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𝐻𝐴𝐸𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑁 . 𝐶𝑅𝐼𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐴𝐿 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇𝐼𝐶𝐸 (𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑚//𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔)

For some reason I just see him being a criminal justice major

Works as a detective, he is good at figuring things out I feel like

His voice is also so nice to listen to and he seems to know what he’s talking about

He has a big heart for understanding others so he would do a good job at seeing all the sides to an investigation

Also just imagine him in a long brown trench coat and just ughhhh

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𝐽𝐸𝑁𝑂 . 𝐸𝑋𝐸𝑅𝐶𝐼𝑆𝐸 𝑆𝐶𝐼𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸 // 𝑆𝑃𝑂𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝐸𝐷𝑈𝐶𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

Since jeno is such an athletic person it’s not a surprise he would be good at exercise science

Him being a physical education teacher or a trainer just fits

He’s so patient and motivational that it would be easy for him to help others

Even though he’s on the shyer side he seems like someone who would be good at leading

GYM TEACHER!JENO OR WEIGHT TRAINER!JENO

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𝑅𝐸𝑁𝐽𝑈𝑁 . 𝐴𝑅𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑌

He just has that vibe to him

He doesn’t just like something for being something he loves the meaning behind it

Being an art history major he would yes, do art but also be able to learn and tell stories about it

He just seems like an artistic and poetic person, he just would fit being some sort of art history professor or something

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𝐻𝐸𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅𝑌 . 𝐶𝑈𝐿𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝑈𝐷𝐼𝐸𝑆 // 𝐸𝐷𝑈𝐶𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

I know he loves learning other languages and of other cultures (he has said it before but I can’t remember where)

So him being a cultural studies major just fits, him traveling meeting new people and learning about them

I also think since he loves teaching Ten mandarin he is patient and gentle

He would make a great teacher too! Since he just all around seems like a warm hearted, lovely individual

If he taught a class no one would ever skip it

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𝑋𝐼𝐴𝑂𝐽𝑈𝑁 . 𝑉𝐸𝑇𝐸𝑅𝑁𝐴𝑅𝑌 𝑀𝐸𝐷𝐼𝐶𝐼𝑁𝐸 // 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺

Okay so we all know how Xiao is with Bella and the cats, so it’s not a surprise he would want to do something evolving animals

Being a veterinarian fits, he can also sing while taking care of the animals

He just has that kind of heart you know?

Finds them beautiful and special and he is also good at comforting people if they lose a pet

But also since he has such a talent for writing I can see him minoring in writing, songwriting, poetry, etc.

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𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐾 . 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝑀𝑈𝑁𝐼𝐶𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆 // 𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝐻 𝐿𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐸

So for mark I had a little trouble thinking about what he would want to do, he has a lot of strengths

But one of his strengths is talking, he’s not the best at technology but him describing stuff seems to be powerful

So a communications // English literature major seems pretty fitting

He could be a communications director and brand leader for some big company

He also is a natural born leader (I blame the leo in him) so he would be good at leading people

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𝐿𝑈𝐶𝐴𝑆 . 𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐼𝑁𝐸𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑁𝐺 // 𝑁𝑈𝑅𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺

I feel like Lucas is honestly a really sweet guy who would love to take care of others so a nurse fits him

And he also just seems like someone who’s intelligent and kindness is underestimated

And honestly him being the type of person to pick an easy major 😂 so he would pick engineering and actually like it

I’m not sure what kind of career he would do, but I just know he would be good at whatever he chooses

He’s a quick learner :) why do I want to see him as a nurse so bad

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𝐽𝑈𝑁𝐺𝑊𝑂𝑂 . 𝑁𝑈𝑅𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑃𝐴𝑅𝑇 𝑇𝑊𝑂. 𝐹𝑂𝑂𝐷 𝑆𝐶𝐼𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸

I can see him being some sort of nutritional nurse

He loves food and eating it but he’s also a big softie

So why not combine both of his passions and make a career out of it

He can test different foods and make sure they are healthy enough for others

And make diet plans for patients in the hospital for Dr. Na

imagine him, Jaemin & Lucas working in the same hospital omfg

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𝑊𝐼𝑁𝑊𝐼𝑁 . 𝐶𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑌 // 𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐷𝐼𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝐴𝐿 𝐷𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸

Winwin just seems like the type of person to be an professional dancer

But in traditional Chinese dance

Since that’s what he is trained in

He has that raw, beautiful talent to him that he would be a good person to have shows and show off those talents

But studying in chinese history could be a back up in case he wants to settle down

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𝐽𝐴𝐸𝐻𝑌𝑈𝑁 . 𝐸𝐿𝐸𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐴𝑅𝑌 𝐸𝐷𝑈𝐶𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

Okay so Jae being the strong and warm person he is and how much he loves kids he would make an amazing elementary school teacher

He has a way with kids and making them listen to him

He would make it fun and beneficial

All of the kids would be in awe about him they just couldn’t help but pay attention

All of the female (and maybe some male) teachers have crushes on him

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𝑇𝐸𝑁 . 𝐴𝑅𝑇 // 𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝐻

Okie so this one is a given

He is a jack of all trades

There is nothing he isn’t good at, so personally he could do whatever he wanted

But since art is a strong passion I can see him being a professional artist, maybe owning an art museum

But also I see him minoring in English since he does love the language and speaking it, he could move to an western country and speak or teach it

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𝐷𝑂𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑁𝐺 . 𝑅𝐴𝐷𝐼𝑂 𝐵𝑅𝑂𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 // 𝐾𝑂𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑁 𝐿𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐸

Okay so three words; Doyoung radio show

He would have his own show and talk every morning

He would talk about pretty much anything, his life being an idol, his friends, family

Deep stuff dumb shit

Anything, and the korean literature could also just be a back up, he would do good in both

Vroom vroom talk show is quaking

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𝑌𝑈𝑇𝐴 . 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑆 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅 𝑆𝑇𝑈𝐷𝐼𝐸𝑆 // 𝐽𝐴𝑃𝐴𝑁𝐸𝑆𝐸 𝐿𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐸

So we all know Yuta is a feminist (WE FUCKING STAN) so him being an women’s gender studies major just makes sense

He would want to learn anything he can about women and even be a women counselor or someone who helps women going through stress

Also Japanese literature just bc you know he is Japanese and I think he would do a good job at that too

But imagining him being someone who helps women in tough situations and just being an all around MAN makes me cry

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𝐾𝑈𝑁 . 𝐶𝑈𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐴𝑅𝑌 // 𝑃𝐼𝐴𝑁𝑂

I think you guys saw this one coming

He has such a passion and talent for cooking he might even own his own restaurant!!

He is a good leader so being a head chef and telling people how to cook things and also being able to make things he wants to just sounds like a good plan for him

And piano minor simply for the fact he loves playing for fun

He would travel around the world making food for famous people and just wowwww

Gordon Ramsey is quaking

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𝑇𝐴𝐸𝑌𝑂𝑁𝐺 . 𝑃𝑆𝑌𝐶𝐻𝑂𝐿𝑂𝐺𝑌

Honestly Taeyong being a psychology major isn’t surprising

He has been through so much in his life that his heart just feels like he should help others

Him being such a gentle sweet person it wouldn’t be hard to make others feel comfortable around him

His presence all around is calming, he would do a good job just listening to people and maybe helping them

HE IS JUST SUCH A SWEET PERSON IM SOFT

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𝐽𝑂𝐻𝑁𝑁𝑌 . 𝐵𝑈𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆𝑆 // 𝑃𝐻𝑂𝑇𝑂𝐺𝑅𝐴𝑃𝐻𝑌

Hear me out, Johnny opening a coffee shop in Chicago

He would take pictures of the city and use it as interior design and he would make his own bouquets and have lots of plants around the coffee shop

It would be a very hip shop where a lot of college students goes

He would be very popular and everyone would know him

People would probably just go to his coffee shop to see him and taste his coffeee

I mean who wouldn’t want to go to Johnnys coffee shop ??? (Omg he should call it Johns Joe) hahaha I’m sorry I’m laughing at myself)

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𝑇𝐴𝐸𝐼𝐿 . 𝑀𝑈𝑆𝐼𝐶 𝑆𝑇𝑈𝐷𝐼𝐸𝑆

Again this is a given

Taeil just screams music teacher

Choir teacher, travels the country having his class and choirs sing in competitions

He is such a calm soul he would be good at it

And his voice is ANGELIC so it would be such an honor to be taught by him

He also just seems like he knows what he is talking about when it comes to music

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beaumont-ague · 3 years

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Task Seven → Headcanons

When Toulouse was little, he was a chubbier kid. It was one of the many things he would get teased about in school, along with his inability to focus, sit still, and lack of patience. As he got older, he started to work on his fitness more and lost a lot of the weight he carried as a child. It also helped that he had a growth spurt when he turned fifteen, evening out at six feet tall. Currently, he doesn't worry too much about exercising, but loves to skateboard and go for runs when he needs to clear his mind.

Toulouse has minor ADHD which was difficult for him growing up because he often felt like the black sheep of the family. He did things differently, interacted with others differently, and for a long time, it made him self conscious of who he was as a person. Thankfully he grew out of it, and replaced those feelings of self doubt with ones of confidence in things he was particularly good at, focusing on what made him unique rather than "different". Because of his ADHD, Toulouse always carries around fidget toys. The most common item he likes to fidget with are rings, almost never leaving the house or his dorm without one.

His favorite color is orange. This is a nod to the movie verse, where Toulouse's fur color was orange. It makes him feel happy and bright, whenever he sees it, similarly with other warm toned colors. This is the same reason that fall is his favorite season. All of the changing colors in foliage and the shift from hot summer days to cool autumn ones were beautiful, in his eyes.

A nod to Edgar's specialty drink mixed for them in the movie, Toulouse's favorite seasonal drink is Eggnog. The two have very similar ingredients, including cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg, and cream. Whenever the holidays roll around, it is absolutely essential to him to have a hefty supply of eggnog around. Similarly, Toulouse used to drink his coffee with an obnoxious amount of cream or milk, but over the years, he's learned to dial it back.

Ever since he was a kid, whenever he wanted to annoy Berlioz during music lessons, Toulouse would come over and sit atop the piano, singing along albeit poorly to whatever song his brother was supposed to be learning. Toulouse knows how to sing, and how to do it well, but does not believe he is anywhere near as good as Marie or Berlioz. Thus, whenever he's around them, he fakes being terrible on purpose, despite him actually having a decent singing voice. Toulouse loves to sing, but he will only do it when he knows that nobody is around to hear him, or, if he feels completely comfortable around someone. Even then, it usually isn't a common occurrence. He would much rather play his guitar and let someone else do the vocals.

Nightmares and fear were a consistent presence in Toulouse's life. He would often have bad dreams that kept him up at night, but would never tell anyone, because he never wanted to seem like he was afraid. He was the oldest, despite being triplets, and therefore felt a responsibility to protect his siblings by being the strong one. That was often why he never let them see him upset, or would bottle up his emotions and cast them aside. He was always the first to change the subject if he thought it would upset either of them, and the first to make sure everyone else was alright, with no expectations of them returning the gesture.

Toulouse is bilingual, and will slip into French when he's stressed, nervous, or angry about certain things. It often comes out in mumbles, not loud enough to really be heard, but nonetheless, it's there. It was his preferred language when he was younger, but as not many people spoke it on the daily, Toulouse shifted to English so that he could better communicate with people.

Being left handed, Toulouse always had to make sure growing up that he was sitting on the end of a table. It caused quite a few arguments with his siblings before realizing this, as they would often bump elbows at dinner. Thankfully, he hasn't had to worry about that in a long while.

The Beaumont children were all trained in music, but also, dance. Toulouse is well versed in several formal dances, though the techniques are not often put to use. His mother still encourages him to practice every now and then, especially when their family is expected to attend a formal event, though Toulouse never really cared for all of that fancy stuff. He simply agreed to please his mother, and because it helped him show off when he wanted to.

#headcanon #we breathe therefore we create { musings }#happiestplacetask7

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stuckonstarker · 4 years

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Happy Birthday, Mr. President.

In this one, Peter is President Stark’s ‘secret’ lover. Loosely based off of JFK and Marilyn Monore. Very loosely. This is a happy birthday fic to myself! Happy 19! Hope you enjoy.

“We have a very special guest tonight, here to sing our president a song. Peter Parker!”

The spotlight illuminated an empty spot on the stage and the thumping drums quickly quieted. Peter was late to the president’s party.

Rhodey - President Stark’s vice president - awkwardly paced around the podium before laughing, “Let it be said that our guest doesn’t need an introduction.”

Rhodey looked to the spotlight and waited, Peter was absent still.

Rhodey laughed with the crowd as he continued, “But I’ll give him one anyway, Peter is an extraordinary singer and actor. He has had many achievements in his life. And he is one of the most important people to our president.”

Then the spotlight caught Peter sprinting on stage, his sparkling suit catching the light from all angles. Rhodey stepped aside, allowing Peter to be at the podium. On Peter’s shoulder was a white fur coat that Rhodey took off for him. The crowd gasped at his shining suit and cheered at his mere presence.

“Mr. President,” Rhodey said, “from the late Peter Parker.”

Peter softly apologized to Rhodey as he took the microphone. His smile was wide and his eyes shone brightly. He was the only person on stage, eyes glued on him. The crowd’s cheers and applauds turned into roars. It would’ve been overwhelming had Peter not been used to it.

As Peter stood at the podium he looked out into the crowd and right there, front and center, was Tony Stark. Peter’s honey-brown eyes met with President Stark’s dark umber eyes. He had a soft smile, that reflected in his eyes. Next to him though, was President Stark’s less than amused wife Virginia. She stared at Peter, her cold, calculating blue eyes pierced Peter. He smiled at her, trying to ease both of their tension before he sang. He looked from her back to President Stark whose smile had dimmed, but not disappeared.

Peter waited, letting the crowd’s clapping fade and their cheers turn into silence. When all that was left were quiet whispers, the pianist began playing a soft tune and Peter began singing, his melodic voice filling the air:

“Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday Mr. President,

Happy birthday to you.

Thanks, Mr. President

For all the things you’ve done

The battles that you’ve won

The way you deal with US steel

And our problems by the ton.

We thank you, so much.”

Peter smiled as his song finished and he cheered, “Everybody! Happy Birthday!” He jumped and clapped, a wide smile on his face.

The soft piano of Peter’s song faded into the booming sound of Happy Birthday as multiple people brought out the giant birthday cake for President Stark. Peter walked off stage, looking back at President Stark with adoring eyes.

“Now,” the announcer said, “for the president.”

President Stark stepped on the stage with a wide grin. He looked at Peter who was shadowed in the darkness. Peter smiled up at him, hugging his fur coat closer. He had ‘borrowed’ some of Tony’s cologne and sprayed it on the coat. As Peter listened to Tony’s thank you speech, the low baritone of his voice fizzled into a warm instrumental and lulled him into a state of delusional contentment.

Then, Tony’s speech was over and he walked over to Virginia and kissed her on the cheek. He whispered something into her ear and she nodded with resentful resignment. He turned away from her and grabbed a drink, it was then when Peter realized he had been staring.

Peter snapped his head away the second Tony turned to look at him, but Peter didn’t hide his smile. Peter took a drink from a waiter’s tray, despite already taking multiple shots before the song. The alcohol helped curb his anxiety - being the president’s secret affair was stressful. And ‘secret’ was a generous word to call the affair.

When Peter looked over at the president again, Tony was speed-walking toward him. It made Peter giggle a two-prong giggle.

“Peter,” Tony said, rushing to Peter’s side, “that was quite the performance you put on.”

Peter smiled, “Thank you, Mr. President, I’ve been practicing.”

Tony went silent for a moment, his warm eyes scanning Peter before saying, “I don’t think anyone’s beauty can compare to yours, darling.”

Peter’s face was an inferno as he said, “Beauty within is the most important thing a young man can have.”

“I’m sure your blood cells are the most beautiful of any humans, dear,” Tony said, sipping some of his whiskey. The glass, however, could not hide his smirk.

Peter sighed, “You are a pest, dear President.”

“As I’m told every day by colonel Rhodes himself,” Tony said.

“To be fair, he’s got a point.”

Tony smiled, “You two, always ganging up on me.”

“Aw,” Peter teased, “did I hurt little old Stark’s feelings?”

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, “first of all, I’m not little, secondly, I’m not old - shut up -”

Peter giggled as he took a sip of his cocktail.

“And thirdly, I don’t have feelings,” Tony continued.

Peter hummed, “You have feelings for me. Right?” To phrase it as a question was only a formality, at the end of the day they both knew the answer.

“Of course,” Tony whispered, his voice rasped with raw emotion. His eyes, however, were not so quiet about his love for Peter. They shone like crystals whenever they landed on Peter’s face and they brightened instantly whenever Peter talked. Tony’s eyes doomed him. Tony’s heart, his soul gathered in his warm brown eyes and they reached out to Peter.

Peter snapped back into reality and realized. He realized that he was close to Tony, so very close to Tony. It made Peter’s heart thump in his chest and made his heart ache. But, this was reality, and Peter and Tony were doomed to be a shadowed affair hidden from the public eye, so Peter stepped back. His legs felt like lead as he moved them. Peter’s body screamed to touch Tony, to hold him close and dear and never let him go. Peter’s mind patiently reminded him that he was in a long line of people who wanted Tony. Peter was just lucky.

Tony didn’t move, he only smiled and sighed, “You are welcome to visit me in my hotel suite, Peter, I’d love to have you.”

“You’d love to have my company, Tony, you’d love to have my company,” Peter said, “we’re in public.”

“Which is why I’m inviting you to my hotel room,” Tony said.

Peter nodded, “Sounds delightful, Mr. President.”

Only a mere hour later, multiple news outlets were reporting on the scandal with multiple ‘insider’ pictures of Tony guiding Peter up a hefty flight of stairs. Each picture was a rare public documentation of their love for one another.

In the hotel room, Tony and Peter ignored them. The outside world meant little when they were in their bubble. They basked in their moments of domestic bliss, wishing life had brought them together in different circumstances, so they could fully bathe in each other’s love.

Tony watched Peter, eyes full of adoration, fingers tracing the delicate edge of Peter’s jawline. Tony whispered, “The world is ours tonight.” Peter smiled and leaned in to breathe in Tony’s cologne.

“Tony,” Peter began, breath catching in his throat.

“Yes?”

Peter pulled away from him and his head hanged low. He took a few breaths as his heart raced and his mind flooded. Peter looked up, gazed into Tony’s soul and whispered, “I love you.”

Even if Tony never said it back, Peter could see it. It was like butterflies dancing in the air and ocean tides beating against the shore: it was the natural beauty of their love. Two souls filled with aching and yearning and longing, finally finding each other and reaching out to one another from across the universe.

Silence sang for some time before Tony leaned into Peter’s neck. His hot breath painting Peter like a work of art. Tony’s mouth brushed against Peter’s ear and, just as Peter felt resigned, Tony whispered:

“I love you too.”

Peter pulled back and reached up to land a kiss on Tony’s lips. Tony reciprocated easily, he held Peter close. Their lips moved in perfect time and their hearts beat on the same rhythm. They were intertwined and there was no going back.

Tony pulled from the kiss and said breathlessly, “I think I’m meant to be with you.”

Peter smiled, “I know that wherever you are, I belong there with you.”

Tony leaned in to kiss Peter again. He whispered against Peter’s lips, “We’ll find each other again, someday, if I have to travel through all of time itself.”

“I would do the same for you, Tony,” Peter said, “as long as in the end, I get to be with you.”

Tony nodded, “You will, somehow. I’ll find a way.”

“I believe you,” Peter said, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck as Tony held onto Peter’s hips. They slowly shifted into a calm sway. Soft piano music played from a stereo in the background. Peter felt like he was floating as if he were the weight of clouds drifting in the sky. Tony used one hand to pet hair out of Peter’s face.

Peter sighed, “I wish I could be in your arms forever.”

Tony nodded and spun Peter in a small circle. Peter giggled and landed back in Tony’s chest. They both began laughing as Tony held onto Peter as if he were a young deer learning to walk.

They calmed down, eventually, and they continued to look at one another. Tony grabbed Peter’s hand and gently guided him to the balcony. Tony admired Peter again. The dark sky dotted with bright stars served to illuminate Peter’s endless beauty.

Tony held both of Peter’s hands in his and looked down as he whispered, “I love you. I wish I could promise you more than my love, but I’m stuck and I’m sorry. I owe you so much more than you receive.”

“Being able to hold you like this is enough for me,” Peter said, trying to hold back tears, “I love you too, Tony, nothing will change that.”

Tony leaned in and kissed Peter, their promise of love imprinted on the backdrop of the endless night sky. Only the stars and moon saw what they truly meant to each other that night and many other nights after that.

#starker #marilyn au #fluff #max writes #cheating mention

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delicatewerewolfsoul · 3 years

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🙇🏻‍♀️ 🎉 🧃 🚑 🐞 (i always ask so much oof)

Thanks bestie 😭😭💖💖😖

🙇🏻‍♀️ why do you bias your bias?

Chan: I bias him because of his personality. He has a natural talent of making people feel more calm by the way he talks. He is also so damn cute, I always melt 🥺

Jisung: he is adorable, for the first moment I saw him, I knew I would bias him, his presence and his awesome personality was so hard to miss (and I was still on denial so I biased him late rip). I also see many similarities with him that make my heart warm and feel better about myself.

Minho: so... Apparently according to my friends, he's my ideal type. He's super charming and very talented, not only in dancing and singing, but in everything he does. His speaking voice is so beautiful also, omg 🥺 he's the type of person I would want to hug. Also his love for cats, come on

🎉 favorite thing about dance line?

Every single one of them has a very different style of dancing, yet together they're so harmonious, it's beautiful

🧃 post your favorite jeongin meme

yeahhh

🚑 imagine ot8 in the hunger games, order them from the first one to die to the winner

This is funnn

Felix

Changbin

Hyunjin

Chan

Seungmin

Minho

Jeongin

Jisung

🐞 guitar lessons from jisung or piano lessons from jeongin

Ohhh, that's easy... I know how to play the piano, so guitar lessons from jisung (since it can also be more intimate 😖)

#bar 🌷#bestie 👯#vicky's life support 🎽#mutuals #asks #ask game 🧚🏻‍♀

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years

Text

Heart Warming Wednesday

Okay so I was driving home last night and this scene came to me and I had to write it out. @risenlucifer here is a little something for your boy. Please enjoy.

The two versions of the song: Liz’s and Wes’

I’m nervous, my shaking hands tell me that much as I breathe like mom taught me. Trying to focus on the calling of my name, the last performance is finishing up. I’m regretting this decision already, I was never going to participate to begin with. Then he mentioned that he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday, given we always had before, I was appalled by this notion. I had planned on trying to make something for his birthday but an idea came to mind while I helped him tune up his old bike and I found myself signing up for this talent showcase, knowing he’d never say no to supporting me.

The group before me are bowing making their way off the stage, my head is starting to spin, I’m gonna throw up. For all the bravado I took from my dad this feels different and I’m scared. Scared I’m going to mess up, that he’ll hate it, that everyone is going to make fun of me for it later, that I didn’t wear the right clothes, that I-. The weight of my father’s hand on my shoulder grounds me, he’s smiling at me, cello in hand. “You got this mija,” he brings me into a quick hug, “He’s gonna love it. And I bet you five bucks we’ll find him crying later.” He kisses my forehead, “Just pretend you’re at Aunt Wren’s and focus on our family out there,” he points to audience and I can make out the faces of Wren, Wes, Rowan, Chance, mom, Danny, Jane, Randy, everyone in my parent’s group of friends. Some of my cousins have made it also but they’re scattered out sitting with their friends.

“Now welcome to the stage Lizette Estrada,” the school music teacher finally announces. My first step is hesitant as I make my way to the two chairs set up at the center of the bright stage. It blinds my eyes and I can no longer see the audience very well. I focus on the microphone, setting the old borrowed guitar down as I adjust it to the height that I need. I hear a few whispers from where they all sit as they watch my dad get himself set up with his cello. If I can’t see them then I can just pretend this is another practice session we’ve been having the past month.

My hands stop shaking so much as I meet my father’s dark brown eyes, he gives me a nod everything ready for his needs. I settle myself in the chair holding the guitar gently as I take one more deep breath. I clear my throat bringing my mouth closer to the mic, “Hi, uhm so,” I try to tune out the coughs mixing with the anticipation silence, “a little bit about this song before I start.” I smile glancing at dad who’s feigning hurt, “Before we start, sorry.” There’s a small laughter that ripples through some of the audience members, “Anyway, this song is dedicated to someone very special to me and my favorite person in the whole world...other than my parents.” I’m glad I wrote out what I planned to say as my heart is beating out of my chest, “According to my mom, when I was little he was watching me and Danny when my parents were out, and I apparently was having a hard time falling asleep. None of my parent’s tricks were working and so he does the last thing he can think of. He pulls out this guitar,” I pat the guitar resting on my thighs, “and starts playing. It must have been the only song he could remember that sounded soothing because mom told me they came home hearing him play it in my room twice before he realized they were watching him.”

I can’t help but laugh a little, my father and some of the audience members following suit. “The tune always stuck with me though. I am told that I used to bug him all the time to play it again and again and again,” talking about these little memories is becoming easier, my confidence rising as the audience is responding how I wanted, “Okay I still do sometimes, but he’d oblige if he could at the time.” The strings are strummed unconsciously, “So I guess now it’s my turn to play it for him. It’s a little different from how he would play it but I think that fits.” I get myself more settled into the seat, “Happy birthday Uncle Wes.” I hear the quietest of ‘Aww’s from mom and Aunt Wren.

I look to dad who’s asking if I’m okay. I nod and get my fingers in the right place waiting for him to start with the first note. The drone of the first note hits my ears as I mentally count out the beats before my fingers strum the first chord. The song is slower and a cover from an old musical of the same name. I inhale, “Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup. They slither while they pass. They slip away across the universe.” Dad and I have gone over this song more times than Wessy ever played it for me, but it had to be perfect, “Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind possessing and caressing me,” there’s a breath in between as I ready myself to hold the next words, “Jai Guru Deva, Om.”

I start the chorus and my confidence is growing as everything about this moment feels natural. I glance out to the audience as I sing, meeting everyone’s eyes saving Wes’ for last hoping to see his reaction. The lights are too bright but I see his hand over his mouth, the slightest sheen of tears, though it could be my eyes playing a trick on me. I’m starting to rock with the beat of the music as I start the second verse, “Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes. They call me on and on across the universe.” My voice flies out confident and just like how Tia Wren encouraged me. All those days by her piano begging her to play the notes all in an attempt to coax Wes into singing with me, “Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box. They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe.”

The memories of being high, touching the sky from his shoulders, the way I used to boss him around to do things right, the infamous pancake fiasco, how I would talk and ramble for hours as he worked on his bike, the times he listened as I got older and I no longer fit in, the staple he is for my parents making sure he was the only dumb one in their little group. Everything that’s ever been shared between us rapidly crosses my mind as the final verse starts, “Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears.” The closeness of our family seeming to stem from his presence, “Inciting and inviting me,” the people and lives he’s made better because he was simply him, “Limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns,” witnessing the love he has for her, pure and simplistic but forever cosmic, “It calls me on and on across the universe.” This whole song is one moment in time but encases the whole of memories from everyone he’s ever touched, not just me.

I feel my throat start to close as we near the end of the song, I’m trying to not cry, cursing my mother for giving me the over emotional gene. How I manage to hold it back long enough to finish the song is a mystery but welcomed as I hear the start of the final notes. My father was the one to start the song and he’ll be the one to end it. “Jai Guru Deva,” I hold the last syllable a few seconds, the last droning note being played. The silence that follows holds us suspended in time as I see the proud faces of everyone that’s here in my life because of him. He’d never admit it but I know. I figured out how much of a common denominator he is in this group. He’s the one to connect the dots, completing the constellations I’ve grown up around, something I could never thank him enough for.

His hazel eyes are holding what I think is pride, maybe a little shock still from how much I dragged him into the public eye for the four minutes it took to finish the song. Life is in slow motion as I watch everyone start to stand, the sound of the first clap speeding everything back to normal as it hits my ears. I can feel my cheeks hurting from my smile as I’m made to stand for a bow. There are cheers that are louder than the others as I come back up from my bow. I hold my arm out to direct the attention on my father as he takes his own bow. The applause doesn’t stop until we both leave the stage, seeing the rest of them slip out the auditorium doors to meet us with smiles, hugs, and praise in the hallway.

Dad stops us before we leave the music room, “You did amazing out there,” his arms are tight as they wrap around me, “I always knew you were a blessing to us, but tonight you’re more than that. Especially to him.”

His words hit me, pride spreading through my chest, I have no choice but to bury my face into his shoulder. The tears soaking into his shirt, “Thank you,” I sniffle trying to stop myself from sobbing, “I love you dad.” I hear the smallest sound of some form of crying from him before he pulls away kissing my cheek.

He’s smiling holding my shoulders, eyes looking to the door that’s opened behind me, I’m turned to see Wes standing there, “I don’t want to intrude-.”

“Intrude away Wessy,” my arms open as he quickly steps into them. He lifts me a few inches from the ground, I’m handing the guitar over for dad to hold, “Happy birthday Wessy. Did you like your present?”

His tears are starting to fall, “I loved it. God I loved it.” My own tears are staining his shirt as we stand in crying silence. It’s a comforting feeling and I wish there was a better way to preserve this moment. The video mom took isn’t enough anymore to be a reminder of this moment, this night, it’s this hug. The love in the room that can never compare to any other kind because this love has been born years before I was ever a thought, before he ever thought he was worth something, before he finally found what he had always been searching for. No, there’s nothing like it for there’s no one else like him. He’s wiping his face when he finally pulls back, “Funny how this old guitar made it back to the beginning.” He takes it from my father looking it over.

I tilt my head, “What do you mean?”

His eyes are far away, ��You didn’t tell her Raf?”

“I thought you did. Assumed that’s why she had it to begin with,” he shrugs, “I didn’t even know she had it until I got up to the stage lights.”

“Tell me what? I just thought it would make it more special because it was yours Wessy,” I’m inspecting the guitar trying to find any clues as to what they could be talking about.

He’s chuckling shaking his head, “It’s more than that,” he looks up to my dad’s face, “Your father picked it out. Gave it to me for my birthday.”

A small gasp escapes me as I cover my mouth, I should have had a pocket full of tissues. I’m looking between them, “Hurt when you left it behind,” my father responds as he places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Guess it became your anchor in the end.”

Wes sighs holding out the guitar to me, “Guess it’s found its home. Ain’t very good anyway.”

I shake my head wiping my tear stained face, “No Wessy,” everything is clicking into place, for me as I see their reflection in the glossy wood, “It doesn’t belong to me. It’s yours. Dad’s right, it was your anchor. It’s home and home is where the heart is.” I wrap my arms around him tightly.

“And you’re the heart, Wessy.”

#Please do not tag all the ocs in this other than the main three cause like they are all there even if not explicitly mentioned #Kate though I hope you know this isn't just about wes either. I feel that you are the same as him in that you're the heart #Thank you for being a part of my life kate I love you #lizette eden oc #deputy hwes #captain xwing #oh yeah guys save yourself the trouble you don't have to tag all the ships either

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mountphoenixrp · 3 years

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We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Jung Chelsea, who is known by no other name, a 26 year old daughter of Tohil. She is a singer-songwriter.

FC NAME/GROUP: Lee Jieun / IU - Solo Artist CHARACTER NAME: Jung Chelsea AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 26, 16/05/1994 PLACE OF BIRTH: London, the United Kingdom OCCUPATION: singer-songwriter DEFINING FEATURES: - the letter “T” tattooed on the middle finger of her right hand - a tiny flame tattooed on the little dip at the base of her neck PERSONALITY: chelsea is bright, warm, open and very affectionate. she loves to spend time with people she cares for, even if it is time spent doing separate things and just being in the same room. except for the things she does with music she prefers mostly active and outdoor activities over sitting inside, but will adapt herself to fit the people she likes and wants to spend time with.

though she may seem innocent at first glance, nothing is less true. her history holds several tough moments, though she hardly ever mentions them, and the only reason she made it to where she is today is a whole lot of determination and perseverance despite things being set against her.

if you want to be her friend, she’ll be more than happy to have you, but the past has taught her to get to know people first before she truly lets them into her heart. this, however, does not mean that she won’t be as loud and boisterous as she usually is - a trait she probably inherited from her dad.

HISTORY: there are people who are content with the hand they are dealt in life, and then there are people who always, always, strive for more. chelsea is definitely one of the latter. despite being born to a single mother with a medium to low income, she never decided life was hard and decided instead to dream big and chase those dreams beyond what others told her was possible. she definitely didn’t get this attitude from her mother, but perhaps it’s her father’s presence in her life that made her this way. though he wasn’t around often, whenever he did show up, she always spent the most amazing times with him and could never get enough from being treated well by him.

and so she did all the things she could; learned how to dance, how to play the piano, how to play the guitar, how to sing, how to draw, how to ride a horse. basically she took every class and course they could get her into, tried everything out for a little while and then either continued to do it in her own time or just dropped it if it wasn’t interesting. every time her father showed up, she’d show him all her newly acquired skills and tell him about which ones she liked and which ones she didn’t. in the end, her future became clear enough to her when she started to get praised more and more for her singing and musical skills.

the only setback in her life, though it was only temporary, was the day she got so excited about a song she wanted to play for her dad that the sheet music spontaneously combusted in her hands, burning to nothing but ash. but to be the daughter of a god did not startle her at all; rather it made her all the more certain she could succeed in life - though perhaps it made her all the more arrogant as well. she worked hard to learn to control the abilities that manifested themselves, helped in this by her father, and threw herself fully into making music.

overnight, from one day to the next, she became an internet sensation, the views on her youtube videos suddenly skyrocketing and before she really knew what was happening, she was invited to several different shows, offered a record deal, asked to write songs and make music and make it big - and who was she to say no?

so chelsea the professional singer was born, despite her only being sixteen, and her mother stepping up to be her manager so that no one would take advantage of her. and life looked amazing, and chelsea felt amazing, and nothing could be more wonderful than this; the things she’d dreamt of, the love from her fans, the joy in writing music and being able to perform. life was a dream and chelsea was living it with great joy. until at one point, only a couple of years later, her father stopped showing up and disappeared from her life completely.

it wasn’t like he hadn’t told her this could happen; that he would forget once he took on a new face; but the reality of it still hit harder than she could ever have imagined. the following years were the hardest of her life as she realised her attitude had made it so she retained no true friends but only those who hung around her to share in her fame and money, and she had no one to confide in, as her mother had become more her manager than her mother at that point. it was hard, she fell deep, but her fans were the ones that got her through it all, and eventually she managed to come back clean and stronger than ever. a different person both in attitude as in beliefs, still as hardworking and joyful as ever, but more grateful for her opportunities and her privilege than before.

like this she released several albums, making it even bigger than before, her success reaching people almost worldwide and she enjoyed every moment of it. but then one day, tired and temporarily out of inspiration on how to bring yet another new concept to her fans, she suddenly decided on a hiatus in order to go hunt down her father and remind him of his most amazing daughter whom he had no reason to not know anymore simply because he looked different. just like with everything else, chelsea persevered throughout many struggles, and her road eventually led her here; to mount phoenix.

PANTHEON: Mayan CHILD OF: Tohil POWERS: she is capable of creating small flames in the palm of her hands. can control existing fire by keeping it from spreading or even subduing it. sometimes when she’s angry she makes fires worse.

STRENGTHS:

has never been burned before in her life despite putting her hands on many a hot place

is almost never cold, hence why she can be seen in short skirts and dresses with bare legs even in the middle of winter

she has full control over the flames she creates in the palm of her hands and can make them as big or as small as she likes, though they can never get bigger than what fits in the palm of her hands

WEAKNESSES:

if she touches the fire she creates to something else and it catches fire, she only controls it as much as she controls any other fire

when a fire grows too big she no longer has control over it and can’t keep it from spreading anymore either

despite never having had any issues with it she really, really doesn’t like big bodies of water

#kpop rp #krp #lee jieun #iu #mp; welcome

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oikawasbread · 4 years

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(part 1) Ah, okay for matchup’s, I thought it would be cool to try one of theses because I've never done one before. I’m female, and bisexual. I’m a Scorpio, and I enjoy track and cross country, dancing, which i’m fairly good at, photography and reading in general. I also find myself getting back into drawing and singing oftenly. It said I was a INTP-T. I have relatively short brown hair, which is curly. I’m mixed, more on the tan side and i’m 5′6 (I just checked)

I wear glasses majority of the time, and i’m fairly curvy. I see myself as a ambivert who has a bit of a shy shell, but can easily be broken into revealing a very energetic human being. My friends describe me as scary?? Aka, i’m not afraid to defend myself or state my opinion in many conversations. Along with that, I do get anxiety quiet often and wonder frequently if I accidentally made someone mad or not. With people I trust or like, i’m fairly loud and laugh alot- and its to the point where people have to tell me to calm down lmao. I enjoy engaging conversations almost about anything, and I wish I can have those types of talks more in my life. Alone however, i’m usually quiet and don’t start conversations unless I have too, or someone starts a conversation with me. In relationships, I’m just looking for someone who can make me laugh, while also tying me down when my emotions get the best of me, while respecting who I am. A few negative parts about my life can be simply showed with my zodiac sign with me being able to get jealous really fast and holding big grudges other small things, which are two things i’m trying to work on currently. On the positive note, I will say that I will literally take a bullet to save any of my best friends to be completely honest. I enjoy the rain, snow, and cold temperatures. I love animals and I have a very tiny doggo that I treasure with every ounce of my being. finally the last one im so sorry) I really enjoy reading about Greek gods and fantasy books. Another fact is that I get flustered really easily, which a lot of people tease me about. I don’t exactly like to stand out, which is why my wardrobe has more dark colors, as I don’t own any red/orange/yellow or pink shirts. And finally the last fact I thought I should include randomly is that I play the piano and learning it this year was one of the best decisions I've made in my life.

Damn, don’t feel sorry for this detailed description, fr. I actually enjoyed so much writing this. As a scorpio, I relate to you so much. I spent so much time on this and you gave me so much info so i had to do a whole character analysis for you and I felt like i was writing about myself. So I enjoyed writing this so much cause I realised new things I didn’t knew about me and it feels good to know that I’m not the only one who is like this.

Anyways!

MATCHING WITH : OIKAWA TOORU

Aight, I know that so many people hate him. And i don’t know if you hate or love him , but hear me out : Besides being a cancer and working with a scorpio so well, i feel like Oikawa would be perfect for your character.

he’s totally in love with the way you style your brown curly hair.

he says ‘’it’s almost as good as my hair’’

he’s a total simp he knows your hair is better than his

has a thing for your tanned skin. tbh u make him wish he wasn’t so pale :’( baby boy wants to get that tanned shiny skin! but it is what it isss

you being 5’6 makes it easy for him to mock you.

but he won’t exaggerate, because he knows you’re going to cut him with your sharp glance

you’re clearly the top in this relationship. i mean you’re a scorpio. are we surprised?

y’all r going to volleyball matches looking badass asf with your matching glasses but in reality you two are being crackheads in the last row of seats

he clearly sees through you, but not since the beginning

at first, he was totally a bit scared to approach you. he’s always seen you being intimidating and sarcastic

you were like a challange to him, since Tooru himself is pretty intimidating and sarcastic

until he opens his mouth

and i think this is what makes you two so perfect for each other : you just need some time to warm up, then you suddenly become the funniest people of the group

as a scorpio, you can be pretty insensitive, having trouble when it comes to expressing your feelings, and when you and Tooru get into a fight, you won’t hesitate to throw some venomous words. sometimes you just can’t control your anger

but he knows you well. he won’t take it by heart since he knows how short your temper is, and he’s willing to step on his pride and put an end to your argument

you’’re not afraid to step up. you’ve always went too far to defend your beliefs and he’s totally whipped. he thinks you would make a great lawyer haha

he loves how you always have a good argument for everything and how you can beat people in a fight just with your words. it’s truly amazing for him, the power you hold

so he avoids fighting with you

I JUST KNOW you guys both have struggles when it comes to following rules. it comes with your zodiac sign. even though he’s way softer and innocent than you, you will drag him into your adventures. and he won’t say no :’)

sometimes you feel like Oikawa is the only person who understands you, who doesn’t think you’re insane

he may not be a genius, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s actually clever

he understands you without even having to hear any words coming out of your mouth

Tooru knows you’re rebellious, stubborn, independent; he knows how you sometimes can feel 29843 emotions at the same time, and he’s here for you

he won’t question you when you don’t feel like talking. Instead, he would make a cup of your favourite tea, add some ice in it, and watch you reading your favourite book while you’re drinking the tea in which he put his secret ingredient <3 love!!

you love reading about Greek Gods, and he loves aliens : so you slowly became a fan of the universe, the unknown, and he started to love the Greek Mythology

totally in love with your dance moves ; watching you dance is his favourite hobby; the way your body moves amazes him and he tries to dance like you sometimes . he may be the great king but not on the dance floor.

long story short, he’s in love with everything about you : your passion for photography, the things you’re reading (he actually finds your favourite authors quite interesting) , the way you’re singing in the shower or how you’re humming some familiar songs when you’re focused on something

he thinks he’s so lucky, and skipping some volleyball practices to hear you play his fave song at the piano is totally worth it

when he found out you’re an athlete, his brain went poof

watching you run with the sunlight dripping all over you was what he needed to get his mind off the school and vbc stress

having a thing for sports made you even more interesting and hot (he didn’t knew you could get hotter than you already are)

sometimes he can see that you’re needing approval, and he tries his best to let you know that you are the greatest at whatever you do.

you think he’s bluffing just to make you feel good, but you appreciate it so much even tho baby boy actually thinks you’re the greatest. like fr. you are his grand queen

you have a rich inner world, so you’d rather focus your attention on it instead of the external world.

Oikawa thinks it’s pretty cute, cause you guys sometimes have lazy Sundays when you just lay in bed all day and do nothing but enjoying each others presence and your own thoughts.

Tooru, just like you, hates failure. losing any type of match puts him down, and the same happens to you.

you feel like you wanna start over and do things the other way around, but you can’t.

the good thing is, you have each other.

he mocks the hell out of your jealousy. whenever his fan girls are approaching him, you feel your heart stop and the oxygen fading away. you just wanna let out your anger

but he knows it, and he will reassure you that you don’t have any reason to feel that way.

he’s only interested in his Grand Queen and no one else can change his mind.

he finds it quite fun that you hold grudges over small things, he can clearly see that you’re vengeful, and that makes you two lil partners in crime.

BUT the way you’re willing to do absolutely anything for him or your friends inspires him so much.

of course, he would take a bullet for you. But your strong spirit is what’s making him be so passionate about everything : you inspire him

the best days for him are when you two are around the house, and it suddenly starts raining.

he only has to look at you once, and you both drop everything you’re doing and run outside to just sit in the rain. the feeling of the cold rain on your skin while you’re trapped between his arms makes your heart explode

little moments like these are making you both fall in love more and more everyday.

I really really hope you enjoyed this! I tried my best and please feel free to request again whenever you want! <33

-Riley

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