#IF YOU WANNA GET TO HEAVEN GOTTA RAISE A LITTLE HELL

[leclercskiesahead]

DRIPPING WET SOPPING THE SWEAT ROLLING DOWN HIS SKIN THE STARE HIS DARK EYES AND FEATURES THE SLICKED BACK HAIR

[cowgurrrl]

You're My Only Hope for Heaven

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: oh bitch I'm having a fucking blast with this dynamic the slow burn is slow burning

Summary: An unlikely patron saunters into your bar [3.5k]

Warnings: one (1) creepy guy, one (1) fake marriage, lots of flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, one (1) kiss

You try not to make it a habit of picking up bar shifts during the week. Not only is it almost always slow, and you barely make any money, but it's hard to go from teaching for eight hours directly to another job. You'd much rather be at home, grading or doing something for yourself for the first time in weeks. But you couldn't say no when Katie called you, almost in tears, begging you to take her shift so she could deal with a burst pipe in her house. You don't regret doing her a favor, but you do regret other things as you stand behind the mostly empty bar as whatever game is happening plays on the screen above your head. You think it's a UT game. Or maybe A&M. Or any of the other SEC Texas schools with an absurd football budget. 

You're basically yawning your way through your shift and working through your newest painting in your head, trying and failing to not think about school until absolutely necessary. Principal Martinez is cracking down on the stupid minutiae the school board demands of its teachers, and you spent most of your afternoon writing student objectives on the board. On top of that, your art club kids have been begging you to plan a field trip to the local art museum for weeks. You finally relented, but the paperwork is mind-numbing and requires much more work than you thought. Between working, making art, and trying to live your life, you barely have time. 

Another reason you hate working weekdays is the creepy regulars. Normally, you can ignore them on a busy Saturday night, but it's harder when it's as dead as it is. You have no idea how Katie deals with them on a regular basis. It started with a guy at the bar, you think his name is Steve, asking you progressively invasive questions. "How old are you?" "You gotta boyfriend?" "What time do you get off?" One right after each other, even after you made it clear you're not interested. Fake laughing and making excuses to run to the back or change a keg don't throw him off. 

"Keep it up, and I'll cut you off." You finally threaten after he asks you why you're being a bitch. You roll your eyes when the bell above the door rings, probably admitting yet another asshole who's gonna make your night hell. When you turn toward the door, the words leave you before you can stop them. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Now, is that any way to greet your customers?" Joel chuckles, and you sigh as he sits down in front of you. Thankfully, his brother is not in tow, and you can save yourself a little embarrassment. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't," you say. "Whatcha drinkin'?" 

"Looks like you're workin' to me." He smirks and you shoot him a look.

"You wanna free drink or not?" 

"Shiner," he answers quickly. You hum in acknowledgment, not even bothering with the POS system and going right to the fridge to pull a bottle out for him. You pop the cap off and place a napkin under the beer before sliding it to him. "Are you bribin' me?"

"You've gotta be faster with your questions, Miller. You've already accepted it. Might as well enjoy." You say, and he laughs. 

"Well, alright, then," he says, raising his beer to you before taking a quick sip. "So, what's this, then? You moonlightin' as a bartender?" He asks, and you fight yourself on how to answer. What if word gets back to parents? Administration? They couldn't reprimand you for that, right? You know plenty of other teachers with second jobs, so it can't be that taboo. Still, you're hesitant to open up to Joel. Out of all the people who could've walked into your bar tonight, it had to be him.

"Something like that." You settle on, wiping a sticky spot on the bar to avoid his gaze. If he feels anything negative about you having a second job, his face doesn't show it. He has a soft smile on his lips and a slight sunburn across his nose, highlighting the freckles living there that previously went unnoticed. You want to tease him about not wearing sunscreen, but the joke dies in your throat when he rests his elbows on your bar, showing off those stupid biceps you can't not look at. He catches your eyes lingering near the short sleeve of his shirt and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but a grating voice from the other side of the bar cuts him off.

"Excuse me, sweetheart! You've got other patrons over here!" Steve yells, and you feel your eye twitch at his attitude. Joel notices.

"What's wrong with him?" He asks quietly, leaning forward over the bar to get closer to you. Looking into his brown eyes and confused expression, an idea forms.

"Pretend you know me." You say, and his eyebrows knit together, every emotion visible on his face. 

"I do know you."

"No, I mean," you sigh. "That guy over there is a regular on Wednesdays, and the girl who usually works is married, so he doesn't try anything with her, but I won't give him my number, and he's making me fucking miserable. So, just... pretend to know me." Joel is bigger than Steve. Much bigger. Probably a whole head taller and much broader than the man on the other side of the bar. One word from Joel, and he might actually shut up or, better yet, leave altogether so you can finish your day without any more hiccups.

"Okay," Joel agrees, and you reflexively reach out to touch his thick forearm and squeeze. You don't even realize you did it until he smiles like he won a staring contest or something.

"Thank you," you say before turning and bracing yourself to deal with Steve. "What can I do for you, sir?" You ask, but before you can even finish your sentence, he holds up his empty beer bottle and waves it in front of your face like you're stupid. 

"Another beer." He says, and you bite your tongue. 

"You got it."

"Finally," he groans. "You'd think for such an easy fuckin' job, you'd be better at it." 

"What the fuck is your problem?" You ask, refusing to move from your spot to get him his beer, and he scoffs.

"My problem is that you're bein' a fuckin' bitch and ignorin' me when I didn't do nothin' wrong." He's slurring his words together at this point, and you wordlessly go to the POS system to close his tab and send him on his way. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" He yells after you.

"Hey, man, why don't you leave her alone? She's just tryna do her job." Joel speaks up from the other side of the bar, and Steve straightens up in his seat as he assesses Joel. 

"This isn't any of your fuckin' business. Stay out of it."

"It's my business now. That's no way to speak to a lady. I think you owe her a mighty big apology." 

"I don't owe her shit," he spits, and you look over to see Joel setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "Why's this even matter to you, big shot?"

"That's my fuckin' wife you're mouthin' off to," Joel says without hesitation, and you quickly school your expression. Wife? You asked him to play along, but you didn't think he'd say that. "So, if you wanna keep the rest of your teeth, I suggest you apologize to her, leave her a nice, big tip for dealin' with your sorry ass, and get yourself a ride home." 

Steve is silent as you take the empty bottle away from him— just in case things get really ugly— and slide him his card and bill. He eyes Joel carefully for a few tense seconds before picking up a pen, signing his check, and leaving without another word. The second he's out the door, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders and sigh at the relief. You scrub a hand down your face and look over at Joel.

"You okay?" He asks gently like you're a spooked horse, and you nod. You take a few minutes to get yourself together, putting in Steve's 30% tip and cleaning off the empty bar before returning to Joel. "What?" He asks when he catches you smirking.

"At least buy a girl dinner before you call me your wife." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head. 

"You said the other girl is married. I just took it and ran," he says. "And I already tried to take you to dinner, but somebody said no." 

"School regulation says it's unethical." 

"Well, we're not at school now, and you're certainly not a teacher right now." He says smoothly, vaguely gesturing to your all-black outfit, and you give him a look. "What time d'you get off?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble." You whisper, and he leans forward across the bar. 

"All I did was ask you a question." He whispers back, playfully mocking you. It could be the smile on his face, the relaxed humor behind his eyes, or the fact that he stood up for you because you asked him to, but you glance between him and the clock and take a deep breath. 

"I get off at 12. Unless it stays dead like this, then I'm closing early," you say, and his smile grows. "But this is not a date." 

"'Course not." He chuckles, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"I'm serious. I need you to say it's not a date, so I know you won't come after me if your kid fails my class." 

"Is my kid failing your class?"

"No, she's amazing. But for my own mental well-being, I need you to say that this is not a date." You say, and he grabs your wrist to stop your anxious wringing. 

"Let me buy you a drink. That's it. Nothin' more," he says, squeezing you. "This ain't a date." 

"Thank you." You sigh, and he nods. 

You spend an hour or two idling between conversations with Joel and trying to look busy for any manager who might care enough to check the cameras. You're pretty much done with all your closing duties by 10:00, and you wait until it's been a full hour since anyone else came in to flip the closed sign and do a few last-minute things. When the bar is completely clean, empty, and ready for the next shift, you slink back behind it to make yourself and Joel a drink before sitting beside him. 

"You feelin' proud of yourself for getting us here?" You ask as you clink your glass against his and take a sip. 

"Yeah, I've got the prettiest girl in the whole place sittin' by me," he says, and before you can even scold him, he throws his hands up. "Not a date." 

"Not a date." You repeat.

"Still true, though."

"Don't make me regret saying yes to you, Mr. Miller." You say, and he gives you a look. You like teasing him, especially since you can always see exactly how he's feeling. He's not particularly subtle, contrary to what you're sure others think about him. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Joel?" 

"As many times as it takes, I guess," you shrug. "You also clearly have an aversion to being called Mr. Miller."

"My dad was Mr. Miller." He says, and you roll your eyes, groaning and half-folding in on yourself dramatically. 

"Oh, my God, do you know how many men have said that to me since I've become a teacher?"

"Well, it's true!" He says. "Are you sayin' other people are tryna tell my wife to call ‘em by their first names?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"Believe it or not, you're not the first single parent to ask me out." 

"Am I the first one you said yes to?" 

"So far." 

"So far?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, and you hum. "I'll take it." 

Unsurprisingly, Joel is really easy to talk to. He asks questions about your life outside of work, where you went to school, and what made you want to be a teacher. You ask him about his job and family and, somehow, end up talking about the latest cheesy action film he's seen. When both your drinks are empty, the glasses sit there, the ice slowly melting as you talk into the night. Every time a hint of anxiety creeps up your spine, he makes you laugh or tells you an interesting story from his past and distracts you from it. You lose hours sitting there, and you don't even realize it until your phone pings you with a reminder, and you suddenly see it's past midnight.

"Oh, shit," you mumble, showing Joel the time. "I gotta lock up."

"And you have school tomorrow." He says, and you groan as you stand and grab your glasses. 

"Don't remind me. I've got like five million things waiting to get done there." You say. He watches you step behind the bar, leave them in the sink for the opener to find, and no doubt send a catty message in the group chat asking who closed the night before. His eyes don't leave you even when you reach up and grab your bag, your sleeve falling down just enough to reveal a nasty bruise.

"Woah, that looks like it hurt," he says, gesturing to your arm. "How'd you get that?"

"Promise you won't laugh." Your response does nothing to clear up his confusion, but he raises his right hand and makes a cross over his heart.

"I promise." His tone is gentle and even, but you're still hesitant to actually admit it.

"I fell off a table." 

"I told you!"

"Hey!" You scold. "You promised you'd be cool about it!"

"I promised not to laugh." He says, and you roll your eyes. "They still haven't come to fix it for ya?"

"Would I be climbing on tables if they did?"

"Fair enough," he shrugs. You find the bar keys at the bottom of your purse and walk over to where he's still sitting, your hand resting on the back of your chair. He shifts forward until he can catch the edge of your sleeve and roll it up to see the bruise in all her glory. His fingers are warm, and his touch light as he traces the edge of it, not firm enough to make it ache but enough that you feel the pads of his fingers. You freeze like your stillness will be enough for the feather-light touches to continue, your eyes meeting for a split second. He clears his throat and rolls your sleeve back down for you, drawing his hand back. "Tell you what," he says. "I gotta buddy who gets me a good deal on some spare parts. Let me see if I can track down the part you need, and I'll come fix it myself. Free of charge."

"You don't have to do that." 

"And let my wife fall off tables?" He asks, a smirk pulling on his lips, and you shake your head. "It's the least I can do for the free drinks and, ya know, teachin' my kid." 

"Fine, but don't make it a thing. The maintenance people already don't like me. I can't imagine seeking outside help will make them like me." 

"I won't make it a thing," he promises, leaning back in his chair as his eyes travel up and down your body. He sighs heavily and sucks his teeth like you're suddenly too much, and you smile. "It's a damn shame this wasn't a date."

"What'd you do if it was?" The question borders on dangerous, but you can't take it back now that you've said it. It seems to have piqued Joel's interest, too, because he raises his eyebrows at you.

"You really wanna know?" He asks, and you nod.

"I really wanna know," you say. "How does Joel Miller end a successful date?" He gets a little bashful at the question, a blush creeping up his neck, and you knock his knee with yours to get his attention. "C'mon, don't get shy on me now."

"Alright, alright," he grumbles. "If this were a date, and we were gettin' ready to go out separate ways, I'd walk you out to your car, open the door for ya 'cause a lady should never open her own doors," his voice is slow and low, and he watches your face as he speaks. "And I'd kiss you. Nice and slow so I don't scare ya off or anythin'. I might put a hand on your waist or bite that pretty lip or somethin'. And right when I can feel you wantin' a little more, gettin' a little desperate, I'd stop, say goodnight, and walk back to my truck." His words have a devastating effect on you, and you can't look away from him. The heat rolling off him in waves makes you too warm and flustered. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip, and you have half a mind to think he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. You have half a mind to let him. 

"You're right," you finally breathe. "It's a shame this isn't a date." He nods and stands, his broad chest grazing yours as you look up at him. You're not a science teacher by any means. If you were, you might be able to explain the magnetism you feel toward Joel or what stupid chemical in your brain makes you wonder what tricks he keeps up his sleeve. But you're not. You're an art teacher. So, the only thing you can focus on is the deep brown of his irises and the heavy lashes and crow's feet that frame his eyes. And the swoop of his salt and pepper curls, the tint of his slightly pink forehead and strong nose. You want to capture his image in the dim lighting of the bar, but you settle for committing it to memory to scribble in the margins of your notebook for the rest of the week. Why couldn't you have been a science teacher?

Neither of you says anything as he finally steps away, giving you the space to turn off the last of the bar lights and push through the haze he created in your mind. He lingers by the door and opens it for you when you go to the front and step into the humid Austin night. You lock the doors and give him a small smile when you turn around to see him rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Then, just as he said, he walks you to your car and opens the driver's side door for you. His truck, the only other car in the parking lot, is parked a few spaces away from yours. It would've been so much easier to just ignore you, get in his car, and drive away, but here he is, being the gentleman he's always been toward you. You step into the space created by the open door and throw your bag in the passenger seat, but don't get in the car. Not yet. He sighs heavily, like he's in physical pain, when you meet his eyes again, and his hand flexes around the edge of your car door. 

"Thanks for my not date." You mumble, and he nods. You're close (and weak) enough that brushing his lips would just take a strong breeze. It freaks you out how okay you are with the idea of "accidentally" kissing Joel Miller. You should be panicking. Alarm bells should be sounding in your head, but the only thing filling the cavernous space is the echo of his voice explaining what he'd do if this were a date. Idiot.

He leans on your door a little more, and your heart quickens, thinking he might actually be the one to make the move. His head ducks just a little, and you get a strong whiff of his cologne, your eyes fluttering shut at the scent. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you're all but pushing up on your toes when he swerves past your lips and presses a chaste, firm kiss to your cheek. His beard scratches your soft skin pleasantly, and you keep your eyes closed until he pulls away, looking like he just won a prize.

"Get home safe." He says as he steps back, still holding your door open. You sigh and fight a smile as you look at him— cocky, vindicated, and knowing exactly what he just did. 

"Goodnight, Joel." You manage to get out before sitting down and letting him gently shut the door for you. You wait until he gets in his truck to roll your window down and shout his name until he does the same. "I'm gonna get you back for that."

"Oh, I'm countin' on it, darlin'."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3

[thesupernaturalhouse]

Right so- Emily's personality ir charlies design for the hazbins Fallen au?? Which should I talk about first??

Let's go with Emily-

Alright! So, Emily is still her cheery self but also due to the nature of the au defiantly isnt all niave and trusting and stuff

In this au, she's learning about seras lies from others, which I think would give her trust issues. I also made her more, angry

I imagine in the au she holds grudges a lot more, mainly against alastor, and has more of a silent anger type personality- here's a small snippet of the pilot for the au

Emily: alright so now we watch *Katie starts throwing insults* ...oookay- vaggie, spear, down *gently holding said spears tip down

Vaggie: wha- but, come onn

Emily: no 'come onn' I don't think you scaring people with you angelic spear is a good ide- *Katie says soenthifn homophobic* .....neveemind *releases spear* do whatever you want ant. I want that bitch to fear for her life

Or it'd go something like that, I'll work out any kinks when I start writing the story, first I wanna awake an episode layout whoch is harder then it loks- I have the ideas but I need it in a list so- jsut gotta sort through all that

Like she isn't like Vaggie, spear raised, but not like Charlie, easy to forgive.

I do imagine she bites her tounge however if you ask for her hienst's opinion, she will NOT hold back. I think once she and Husk become more of a father-daughter duo, he starts rubbing off on her, and she starts blurting some ruder things out

He is so proud of his little(200k year+) girl

It's probably the most evident when I have her tell of Alastor- which will also be one instance of her being super protective over her found family.....listen I know yall love Alastor i do to, but I think he fandom over hypes him, and so does he himself, and I want Emily to kinda call him out, and threaten him in this au

But that'll be another post :)

Remember how I said charlie and slaviathen are like Ron and Tammy 2 but without all the sex? Yeah, well, then Emily is Diane! Vaggie is to but vaggie mostly focuses on getting them out and stuff. Emily and slaviathen just have passive aggressive argument and comments thrown at each other

"Always a pleasure to meet you charlies friends" "*strained smile* always a pleasure seaweed hair stranger" "oooo-Kay let's go- and let charlie Dela with this"

Why vaggie is passive with sleviathan and Emily is the protective one? Honestly idk but I think it's funny :) maybe it's cause Vaggie knows Charlie doesn't tale shit from slaviathen one bit so lets her gaurd down more because she knows charlie has it, so she's more passive or smth

Emily meanwhiem can't STAND being talked down to so absurd bites back no matter what. Which is also why her breaking point would be Katie calling them a slur.

She hates being talk down to, which stems form her years in heaven being treated as a child by almost everybody, good intentions or not it was still always so condescending to her. Especially when it was from Sera or the other heaven born and elder/arch angles

So she definitely internalized that, remember how I said she was often referred to as 'lucifers replacement' by many elder angles?? Yeah, that's where it MOSTLY stems from

She'd also have resentment and hatred for lucifer because of it all, like "I never want to meet whoever the fuck lucifer is" kinds mentality, it's due to this that she refused to search him uo and relaize he was her girlfriends, one of them, DAD

So the dad beat dad episode is...fun!! Emily gets piss drunk with HER dad, husk after realizing the short man in the middle of the living room is lucifer

It's after that whole song at the beginning happens does she realize he's lucifer, cause charlies only referred to him as dad so-

......I should start drafting a psot for her and Peter's relationship- mlm and wlw solidarityyyy

She also be a lot more sexual active I think because liek heaven is restricted so being in hell with norestricrions she definitely is THRIVING on that freedom

I have a scene planned out for when Angle takes them to that bdsm club that involved her buying black silk stuff because why not-

Anyways, the finale change in Emily, I think, for her personality that is would be she absolutely take sfter a more Sloth like sin

"Screw both of you I'm sleeping in!" She absolutely HATES waking up early in the morning, especially if it's after a night of certain events. Vaggie will throw clothes at her and force her to get up. Charlie will already be downstairs full of energy-

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift (Part II)

GUILTY AS SIN?

I hadn't heard it in a while.

My boredom's bone deep.

This cage was once just fine.

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of cracking locks.

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox.

I'm seeing visions.

Am I bad, or mad, or wise?

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

Oh, what a way to die.

I keep recalling things we never did.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

There's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.

We've already done it in my head.

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly.

I choose you and me, religiously.

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?

You don’t get to tell me about sad.

If you wanted me dead you should’ve just said.

Nothing makes me feel more alive.

Who’s afraid of little old me?

You don’t get to tell me you feel bad.

Is it a wonder I broke?

Let’s hear one morе joke.

Then we could all just laugh until I cry.

I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean.

Don’t you worry folks, we took out all her teeth.

So tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

Say they didn’t do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

All you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs.

I’m always drunk on my own tears, isn’t that what they all said?

I’ll sue you if you step on my lawn.

I’m fearsome, and I’m wretched and I’m wrong.

Put narcotics into all of my songs and that’s why you’re still singing along.

You lured me and you hurt me and you taught me.

You caged me and then you called me crazy.

I am what I am 'cause you trained me.

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY I CAN)

The smoke cloud billows out his mouth like a freight train through a small town.

The jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud.

God, help her.

I told them he's my man

I can fix him, no, really, I can.

The dopamine races through his brain on a six-lane Texas highway.

His hands so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face.

I could see it from a mile away.

A perfect case for my certain skill set.

He had a halo of the highest gradе.

He just hadn't met me yеt.

Good boy, that's right.

Come close.

I'll show you Heaven if you'll be an angel, all mine.

Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.

LOML

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames?

We were just kids, babe.

I don't mind, it takes time.

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed.

I felt a glow like this, never before and never since.

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary.

You said I'm the love of your life.

You took me to hell too.

A con man sells a fool a "get love quick" scheme.

I felt a hole like this, never before and ever since.

What we thought was for all time was momentary.

Mr. Steal-Your-Girl, then make her cry.

You shit-talked me under the table.

I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all.

It was legendary.

It was momentary.

It was unnecessary.

Should've let it stay buried.

What a valiant roar.

What a bland goodbye.

The coward claimed he was a lion.

I'm combing through the braids of lies.

Our field of dreams engulfed in fire.

I'll still see until I die.

You're the loss of my life.

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

I can read your mind.

She's having the time of her life.

I can show you lies.

I'm a real tough kid.

I can handle my shit.

They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it till you make it" And I did.

Lights, camera, bitch, smile.

He said he'd love me all his life.

All the piеces of me shatterеd as the crowd was chanting "More".

I was grinnin' like I'm winnin'.

I can do it with a broken heart.

I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day.

I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art.

You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

I can hold my breath.

I've been doing it since he left.

I keep finding his things in drawers.

I didn't imagine the whole thing.

'Cause I'm miserable and nobody even knows.

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

Was any of it true?

Who the fuck was that guy?.

Now you know what it feels like

I don't even want you back.

I don't miss what we had.

Could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

You didn't measure up in any measurе of a man

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

Were you writing a book?

Were you a sleeper cell spy?

In fifty years will all this be declassified?

You'll confess why you did it and I'll say, "Good riddance".

It wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

I would've died for your sins, instead I just died inside.

You deserve prison, but you won't get time.

You said normal girls were "boring", but you were gone by the morning.

You kicked out the stage lights, but you're still performing.

You are what you did.

I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive.

THE ALCHEMY

This happens once every few lifetimes.

These chemicals hit me like white wine.

What if I told you I'm back?

The hospital was a drag.

Worst sleep that I ever had.

I circled you on a map.

I haven't come around in so long.

I'm coming back so strong.

Ditch the clowns, get the crown.

Baby, I'm the one to be.

The sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me.

Honestly, who are we to fight thе alchemy?.

Hey, you, what if I told you we'rе cool?

That child's play back in school is forgiven under my rule.

I'm making a comeback to where I belong

We've been on a winning streak.

There was no chance trying to be the greatest in the league.

He just comes, running over to me.

CLARA BOW

All your life, did you know, you'd be picked like a rose?

I'm not trying to exaggerate, but I think I might die if it happened to me.

No one in my small town thought I'd see the lights of Manhattan.

This town is fake but you're the real thing.

Take the glory, give everything.

Promise to be dazzling.

The crowd goes wild at her fingertips.

No one in my small town thought I'd meet these suits in LA.

You're the real queen.

You're the new god we're worshipping.

Beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more.

Only when your girlish glow flickers just so.

It's hell on earth to be heavenly.

Them's the brakes, they don't come gently.

You've got edge, she never did.

The future's bright, dazzling.

[enchantinglyjade]

Milk & Honey - Ch. 23

Austin!Elvis x Black!OC

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Summary: Elvis is trying to come to terms with Honey dating again. Honey isn't too fond of it herself

Warning: NSFW 18+ mild sexual activity, dirty talk, swearing, flirting

Song: Do You Love Me - The Contours

Playlist

-

-Elvis POV-

God damn, this woman is driving me crazy. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I see her everywhere, in everything. I can’t go one minute without thinkin of her and that blonde curly hair. Being near her felt like a little glimpse of heaven, even when she’s mad at me. I’d do sinful things to get a taste of that sweetness, especially if it meant escaping this hell for even a second.

I shake her from my thoughts. Gotta knock this shit off, I got a show comin up soon. Can’t be caught distracted now

I stand in front of the mirror while brushing my teeth. As I bend down to spit, I feel a small arm snake around my waist. Marcella reaches her head around my arm to peek at me through the mirror. “My mom’s wondering when we’re gonna be bringing some grandbabies over to visit her.” She whispers, as she begins to untie my robe.

I rinse the toothbrush off, throwing it over onto a nearby towel. “‘Cella, I just got Charles, can we slow down a sec.” I reply calmly, but feel irritated just looking at her.

She huffs, pulling away to put her hands on her hips. “We’ve been married for how long now, Elvis? You have barely made love to me since the day you put this ring on my finger.” She holds up her hand as if I’d need help realizing which ring she was talkin bout.

I clench my jaw, storming out the bathroom. “I told you, I just ain’t really that type.”

She scoffs, following close behind me. “‘Ain’t that type’? Ain’t that something. It’s cause of her! I’m not as stupid as you think I am.” I sit down on the edge of the bed, rubbing my temple with my hand. Everytime this woman speaks I get a headache. “My father already hasn’t taken the news lightly, so I suggest you finally move on from her to not further upset him.” She crosses her arms, stomping towards the door. I raise my head, just as she opens it. She looks back at me over her shoulder, taking a deep exhale before she speaks. “Look, I’m willing to forget about all this, but I did see a little blue shirt in the window of the boutique downstairs, if you wanna make it up to me. It’s the least you can do after everything.” And with that, she slams the door shut.

Lord, how’d I get myself into this mess.

Later in the day, I get the boys over to talk production, Charles in my bedroom watching TV since I apparently had to watch him for Honey’s…evening talk with an old friend. Things go fine, until I leave the room to grab a cola. On my way back from the fridge, I overhear their conversation.

“Damn she sure is a fine woman though.”

“She’s E.P.’s baby mama if you wanna get in between that.”

“You bet I don’t.”

“The hell you two talkin bout?” The boys go quiet, turning around to look at me, watching as I sit down at the desk in the living room scattered with papers and letters. I scoff at their hesitant faces. “She’s more than just a baby mama.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

I gulp down some of my drink, setting it down frustratedly with a loud clunk. “A good friend.”

“You hear that? She’s a ‘good friend’.”

“Oh, I ain’t got no doubts.”

The boys go back and forth, laughing and clearly having no fear of testing my patience today. “Alright, now all’a’ya put a sock in it, and keep her outta your thoughts ‘fore I have to leave a handprint across your faces.” I glare at each of them in the room, but they only snicker at my attempt to warn them.

Jerry dares to speak up. “Elvis, I’ve known you for years and you never mentioned a- what do you call her? Bumble?” He asks over the edge of his glasses.

“Cause I don’t want to. Now, I need you to go to those shops downstairs and buy a blue shirt in the window.” I say, steering the conversation away from her.

He raises an eyebrow. “Just…a blue shirt? What shirt?”

I rest my elbows on the desk, rubbing my temples roughly. “I don’t know, man. Any fuckin blue shirt you see down there.”

He thinks for a moment, before reluctantly standing from his chair and sliding out the door, following the orders I gave him. Now that that conversation is over, let’s move on to some real business-

“Billy, you said you knew her before right? You got any beans to spill on the whole situation?” Red questions.

I clench my jaw, throwing my head over the back of my chair in annoyance.

“Yeah, he was crazy bout her back in the day. Them two was always sneakin ‘round the cops. He’d even go dancing with her.” He snorts out a laugh until he makes eye contact with me, then his face drops. “Sorry, cous’.”

“See, how come we never heard this?” Joe asks.

“Ain’t easy to talk about.” I respond quietly. “Now can we move on from this topic?”

There’s a knock on the door.

George stands since he’s the closest to the entrance. “Yeah, come on guys. Gotta keep quiet before one of Elvis’ girls shows up.” He taunts with a laugh.

My knuckles turn white, gripping the bottle in my hand. “Girl. I have one.” I demand.

He only chuckles, opening the door to reveal Thomas standing behind it. “Hey, E.P.!” He greets, casually stepping in. He’d been stopping by for the past few days. Ran into him while I was out bringing Marcella shopping down the strip. We had already gotten pretty familiar with each other again before Honey reunited with him. Now I don’t even wanna look at him, just Michael all over again. “I was just wondering if you knew where Honey’s suite was. Supposed to be takin her out, you know.”

The boys amusedly turn to watch my reaction to this. I ain’t gonna give them the satisfaction of blowin up, or actin jealous, or anything childish like that. I have Marcella, and they know that. Ain’t nothin going on between Honey and I. If she wants to date, then-

I guess-

Damnit, it ain’t important right now!

“You know Honey too?” Billy buds in.

Please, Billy. Now ain’t the damn time.

But Thomas smiles at his question. “Yeah! We grew up together, Me, E.P., Honey, and Michael. We all lived in the same town, doin our best to impress her. E.P. and Michael was always fightin over her every time they got the chance. We all had a little crush on her, but I wasn’t bout to get in between them two. Whoo! They was bad.” He chuckles, pointing over towards me. “Glad that’s over.”

I scoff with a smile. “Easy to like the only girl in the whole town.” I add, downplaying incredibly.

Just then, the door knob spins, metal creaking as it opens. Little blonde curls peak through. Honey apologetically smiles as she opens the door further to reveal the rest of her. She has on a red dress, fitting tightly over her body, just like the ones I used to buy for her. Her hair is up, some curls falling over her exposed collarbone and breasts.

The boys laugh at my joke from before, but everyone’s smile disappears upon seeing her. My God, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You sure that was the only reason?” My head snaps back over to Thomas, who’s biting his lip  looking at the exact areas of her body I was. 

“What they got growin in Tupelo?” Sonny whispers with his jaw on the floor.

I could slap each one of ‘em silly right about now.

Her heels clank on the marble floors as she walks over to Thomas. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” She says sweetly.

Thomas stands pathetically quickly. “No, not at all. I was just looking for you actually.”

I can’t watch this no more.

-Honey’s POV-

“So, what are you doin out here with E.P. then? You his stage manager or somethin?”

I chuckle, following beside Thomas as we walk down the strip. “No, no. Just visiting. I used to be a singer too actually.”

His eyes widen. “Really?” He says with a big smile. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”

I force out a nervous laugh. “Oh, no. I don’t do that no more. Haven’t in a long time.”

He smacks his lips. “Tsk, don’t be that way. Once a singer, always a singer. You know what,” He stops in his place to face me. “I saw the perfect place the other day for you to sing for me.”

I cross my arms with a grin, anxiously excited by his offer. “Oh, I’m singin for you now?” I raise a brow.

He smirks at me. “Yeah, I wanna see what you got.” He tilts his head to the side. “Come on. Let’s go.” He offers his arm out to me and I gladly take it, following in the direction of whatever place he has on his mind.

We arrive at a club filled with song, drink clanking, and chattering. It’s very casual in its looks, yet somehow still refined and skilled, like its inhabitants are laid back with their excellence. I recognize tunes like these, the clothes they wear, the gently calloused fingers. These are actual musicians. 

A few customers turn to watch us enter, eyeing my dress as we walk by. I cross my arms around my body, feeling inexperienced and overdressed, as though I was trying to excel in looks where I likely lacked in talent. Great, another place to feel like I don’t belong.

I follow Thomas to two seats in front of the bar, where he orders drinks for us.

“So, you come by Michael at all?” He asks as the bartender sets our drinks down in front of us.

I raise my eyebrows, taking a sip. “Oh lord, he’s crazy.”

He laughs, slapping a hand down on his thigh and stirring his drink in the other. “Well, sounds like you have a crazy story to tell. What happened?” He stares at me with a soft, flirtatious squint that almost leaves me flustered, but not quite.

“Tried to make me a real singer and take me to Chicago with him cuse he thought I’d make him big money, but when I told him I didn’t wanna leave Memphis he got real mad. He started throwin a hissy fit and everythin. Real jealous type.” I scoff, taking another sip. 

Thomas wide eyes me. “Damn.” Is all he manages to say, causing both of us to laugh. Saying it out loud for the first time made me realize just how ridiculous that time of my life really was. Kinda miss it though, in a weird way.

I sigh, turning in my chair towards him. “Yeah, turns out he had a lot more on his mind when we were kids than he let on. Elvis was there to see it all, even fought him too. Shit, you shoulda seen his face when Michael and I-”

I pause.

In the corner of my view lies the door. In from the door walks a man in an obnoxiously bright suit with his infamous crew of men behind him.

Speak of the fucking devil.

I should have known this asshole would pull anything and everything to stop this date from happening, yet here I am, shocked and unprepared.

He yanks off his sunglasses, grazing the room, landing on me with an annoyingly knowing grin. I glare deeply into his face, hoping it would be enough to steer him away and back out the door, but he just keeps treading forward.

He opens his arms, reaching out to place them on the backs of our stools. “Hey! What’re you doin here? Heard this joint was busy, but had I known you two would be here, I’d gone another night.”

Oh, I’m sure he would have. I’d hiss at him if I could!

Thomas smiles, reaching for a handshake. “Hey. No problem E.P. Think you’ll like some of the cats in here anyway.”

No problem? This is a big problem!

I have no doubt that Elvis will stop at nothing to embarrass me in front of Thomas. It’s all he’d do as kids and he’s only become more of a menace with age.

“Hey.” I whisper through my teeth to him. “Who’s watching-”

“Marcella.” He answers, already knowing.

Oh, I don’t like that woman being near my baby so much. For all I know, she could be filling his head with lies.

A loud howl of a voice echoes through the microphone causing all of us to turn to the stage.

“Woo! That man ain’t singin, he’s sangin!” Thomas exclaims.

Elvis matches in enthusiasm. “You think that’s impressive, you should see Beale after the sun go down. Woowee, now that’s somethin. He got himself a nice 4 piece up there though.” The bartender hands him over a drink and he sips from it with a concentrated smile.

Jerry and the others sit at a table behind us, watchin the stage as Elvis works his torturous ways.

The song comes to a close. As the band exits backstage, a man walks on, dressed nicely in a suit, smiling wide for the crowd. ‘Alright, I’m back, remindin’ you once again that it is amatuer night, so any one of you is welcome to take the stage, whether you’re Aretha Frankin or just wish you were. Nah, I’m just playin. But if you got vocals, come up and show the locals! Ha ha!”

Elvis lets out a devious hum and I instantly know what I’m about to have to do.

“Honey ever tell you she used to sing?”

Lord.

My heart immediately starts beating faster. I better start picking out a song now while I have the time.

“Yeah, she did. That’s why we came here. Said she’d sing for me.” Thomas looks me up and down in a very flirtatious way.

“Did she now?” Elvis says deeply, looking down at me in my spot. I could have laughed at how upset this whole situation clearly made him, but I’d have to hold it in for now, I have to think quick. He forces a smile on his face. “Well, I think that settles it. Show em what you got, Bumble.” 

I shake my head. “Oh no, I don’t think so.” Oh, I will, but I need to buy more time to think of a perfect song.

Elvis comes close, resting his arm on the bar right in front of my stool. “Go on stage.” He softly commands. “Wanna hear you sing again.” My chest fills with butterflies. Song. What song! I shake my head anxiously, as he grins, waving his arms in the air to get the attention of the man on stage. “Hey! She’ll sing! Right here!” He yells, so the entire audience can turn to look at me.

The man on stage shouts out a ‘woo!’ as he calls me up. I’m gonna be sick. I slide off my chair, but before I can walk towards the front, Elvis grabs my arm. “You’ll be great. You always are.” He whispers. A small chill runs against the sensitive part of my arm. I look down seeing the small silver band wrapped around his finger, cooling my skin. When I look up, I’m met with my two childhood friends, both of which smirking quite lustfully at me. They both think I’m beautiful, and they both know I’m talented. I know a lot more about music than either of them remembered. This fills me with a sense of confidence, all previous thoughts vanishing from my mind. I know a song.

Elvis takes back his hand, leaning against the bar and nodding me towards the stage.

I’ll show him what he walked away from.

The crowd cheers as I walk towards the stage with my head high. I fling my hair over my shoulder, which is contrasting so nicely against the red dress I chose out today. In this moment, I feel more beautiful than I ever did in my 20’s. Maybe it was maturity, maybe it’s because I know Elvis is looking, whatever it is, it has me feeling ready to take on the world. 

The man hands me the mic, but I lower it to speak to the band. I ask them if they knew the song I had in mind. They smile upon hearing the name, causing me to mirror their smile. “Alright, lay me down somethin.” I say into the mic now, facing the crowd. Elvis tips his head to the side in amusement, not expecting me to react this way.

The guitarist begins the first notes of the song. I speak the beginning lyrics, just like the real singer does.

‘You broke my heart

'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around’

For a moment, my heart bubbles up with fear seeing how everyone’s eyes are on me, but I easily push it away, knowing that I had what it takes to wow them in the way I always dreamed of doing since I was a little girl.

‘And now I'm back

To let you know

I can really shake 'em down’

There was no time to lose now.

I conjure up all those years of practicing, shouting out the next part just like Michael, the church, and Elvis have tried teaching me to do for years, only just now finally succeeding in doing it right and singing with that power I always strived for.

‘Do you love me?

Now do you love me?

Now that I can dance.’

I parade across the stage doing little dances for the audience members in the front row to enjoy, getting a slight high for their positive reactions, which only helps me continue on.

‘Now tell me baby

Do you like it like this

Tell me

Tell me!

Watch me now, hey!’

I grab the mic stand, twirling my hips in big circles in time with the music, watching carefully over my shoulder at my men of interest. I smile when I see I’ve succeeded in entrancing both of them, and then some. There are a lot more things I can get away with doing now than I could in the 50’s and it’s clearly leaving them speechless.

‘(Work, work)

Ah, shake it up, shake it

(Work, work)

Ah, shake 'em, shake 'em down’

I giggle seductively into the microphone, taking a look in the back to make eye contact with Elvis. His face is in a war, deciding whether to smile in amazement or stare me down for dancing in such a provocative way in front of everyone, which only makes my smile widen further.

I'm working hard baby

Well, you're driving me crazy

And don't you get lazy’

I don’t look back at them for the remaining portion of the song, but when I do, I’m met with the most thrilled pair of eyes. The crowd cheers while I catch my breath, but I can barely hear them over the sound of my beating heart that longed to hear every thought that raced through the mind of one man in particular.

Under the shadows of the club, I catch Thomas mouth an ‘ooo’ with an impressed smile, watching as I walk to them.

“God damn, lil mama. Where the hell’d’you learn all’at?” Elvis asks quietly when I sit back down in front of them.

I shrug. “Just kinda felt it in the moment, I guess.” I giggle, but it fades when I make eye contact with him. The way he was looking at me, Lord, I could pounce on him.

“That was real good, Bumble.” He admits earnestly.

I mutter a quiet thank you, as he sits down at the table next to Billy and Jerry.

“Man, that kid of yours gonna be one hell of a musical genius with a mama like her.” Billy says, patting him on the shoulder.

Thomas eyes Billy with scrunched brows. Suddenly, I feel the need to hold my breath, as if that would stop anything bad from happening. He slowly turns back towards me, still in heavy thought. “Charles…is your baby?” Now he looks at me.

My body stills. “I-uh, I figured you seen the news, was alright with everything.” I’m surprised Elvis didn’t tell him the second he got the chance, he knows information like that could ruin my chances. In fact, why didn’t he tell him?

“You and E.P. had a baby together?” He asks again, just to clarify.

My heart drops. “Yeah. But we aren’t together anymore. Is that…okay…?” It obviously was not okay with him, but I didn’t know what else to say.

His eyes widen. He looks around the club, shaking his head, as if desperately searching for a way out. “Yeah, no- I- Listen, Honey. You’re beautiful and all, but I ain’t lookin to get involved with kids right now. And-”

“No! It’s fine. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I’m not mad.”

He makes a reluctant smile at me, but awkwardly stepping off his chair and leaving me there to walk out the front door.

I turn towards the bar, shielding myself away from the rest of the club. A lone tear rolls down my face, but I wipe it away angrily.

God, this is embarrassing. Why am I even crying? I didn’t even really like him, he was just to get back at Elvis. But-...is this how everyone will react? Am I too old to be dating? Will having a kid ruin my chances of finding love again? Will being involved with Elvis make everyone run in fear? Maybe I’m just destined to be alone now. I had one great love affair and that’s all I’ll ever get. I guess most people never even get to experience the love Elvis and I used to have, so I should just be grateful I had it at all.

“You okay, Bumble? Why’d he run off like that?” Elvis asks, taking Thomas’ old chair.

I let out a long, defeated breath. “What do you want?”

“I wanna know that you’re okay.”

I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you happy? Don’t gotta worry about me dating, and you were right, no man even dares to look in my direction, just like you wanted.”

I huff, about to put my old drink to my mouth, but Elvis pulls it from my lips. “Don’t go down that road. Please. I can’t lose you too.” I look into his soft eyes, letting him take the drink from my hand and set it back down on the bar. “But yes, I am very happy.” I scoff out a light chuckle. I hate that he can always make me smile, even when I’m mad at him. He reaches out for my hand. “Come on, let’s get to the car. I’ll bring you back to the hotel.”

I follow him out back, slouching into one of the cars with him.

He sighs. “I really don’t like the idea of raising my boy alongside another man, you know.” He spreads his legs out across the edge of the seat, not scandalously, but welcoming nonetheless.

I cross my arms. I’m not gonna give into my thoughts. “Is that the only reason I’m not allowed to date?”

He scoffs, shaking his head at me and looking out the window. “Ain’t never said you weren’t allowed.” His hand rests on his thigh, patting down on it. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was taunting me over, unless that was my own heat talking.

I lean up in my seat, eyes glossing over him. Thomas or not, it’s supposed to be me teasing him. He’s supposed to be under my spell tonight, not the other way around. I reach behind me to push up the car’s partition, which catches his immediate attention. “So tell me right now, Elvis.” I gently push myself towards him, shimmying up my dress enough that I’m able to straddle his legs. He instinctively grabs my hips to ground me against him as we drive over a bump, which only results in me bouncing in his lap in a tortuous way for the both of us. “Tell me, ‘Honey, I’m perfectly okay seein you with another man.’” I whisper into his ear.

And here I thought all the childish bullshit games stopped after Michael. Guess we still have a little zest left in us.

He lets out a guttural groan, throwing his head back against the seat. “Bumble, don’t start this with me.”

I ghost my lips over his neck, purposely making an effort not to directly touch him. My warm breath glides down his skin, causing his hairs to raise. His grip on me tightens, making my body shiver, wanting so desperately to give in.

Those feelings are never gonna go away no matter how hard I try, there was little to no point in running any longer. I’m sick of pretending like I’m some saint, I wanna know how he really feels.

“Is she as good as me, baby?” It's the first time I’ve reciprocated a nickname for him. He tilts his head back up, looking into my eyes with his dangerously hooded ones. I giggle at his expression, knowing I was teetering over the edge of our respectable boundary. “Do you think about me when you’re with her?” I wouldn’t have had the guts to ask something like this, but I know he does. I know he still thinks of me, because I can’t stop thinking about him. “Do you think about how I used to feel?”

He twitches beneath me, pulling me closer to him. “Shit,” He mutters under his breath. Yeah, he still thinks about me. It takes so much effort not to touch him that I feel on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. “You’re playin a dangerous game and you know it, baby.” He digs his fingers into my thighs, pushing me down into him, but nothing more.

I’m older now, wiser, bolder. If I would have had this same confidence 10 years ago. I would have left him weak to his knees. However, I’ve quickly made a new discovery being with him for just these few weeks. While I’ve grown more assertive, it seems so has he. We have both changed and grown over the past years, but my strength to resist him has not. Instead of surprising him and making him weak with the new me like I thought I’d be able to do, I’m matched with an even more powerful force of lust and seduction than I ever dreamed of him having. As if he wasn’t enough as is, he just keeps getting better.

The car drives over another bump, making my breasts bounce against his chest, while the rest of my body adds pressure to his lap. I crumble into him, allowing myself only to wrap my arms around his neck. He grinds his teeth, closing his eyes to concentrate. 

I shouldn’t give in so easily, but he’s all I have left from my old life, all I have left of my youth. Every time I see him is a reminder of home, a reminder of what should have been.

Just then the car comes to a stop. Before I can get off of him, the door is pried open, shining the blinding garage lights onto us in the otherwise dark car. I quickly push myself off Elvis, exiting the car and giving an apologetic look to Jerry, who thankfully is the one that opened the car door. 

Elvis steps out next to me, straightening himself out. “Jerry, could you see Bumble back to her room, please.” 

Jerry agrees awkwardly, escorting me to the doors. We stay quiet through the hotel lobby, until we get to the privacy of the elevator. “I couldn’t help but notice you still have something going on with E.P, if you don’t mind me asking, cause I don’t dare bother him about it.”

I scoff out a laugh. Was he actually that intimidating to them? I know he’s prone to having a temper, but he’s nothing but a baby around me most the time. Then I remember he’s waiting for an answer. What could I possibly say?

I sigh. “I’ve known him my whole life, Jerry. Shit, I’ve known him longer than his own mama.” Unfortunately, it was true now. “I love him, as a friend, as a lover. I tried to ignore it, but he really does mean the world to me. I only ever wanted him and it should have only been him, but we were too progressive for the times.” I stare blankly into the metal doors of the elevator. “Shoulda been my ring.” I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

The door dings open. 

“Thanks for bringing me up. I got it from here.”

.

.

.

-Taglist-

@tearupmyhead @chouetteschaussettes @il-giardino @theliterarybeldam @re3kin @anangelwhodidntfall @felicityroth @crash-and-cure @mama-pankow @tzillas @wonderlandlovelove @mirandastuckinthe80s @queenslandlover-93 @coconutessential @pumkiinpasties @buckybarnesbitch00000000 @biafbunny @darkestbeforethedawn16 @dollfaceyourfear @adoreyouusugar @hails-schae @spacegh0ul @im-lame-irl @sargspiderbarnes @whisperily @whatawildone @lukasdreamland @carioquisse @kaitaesupremacy @thella @isthlsfate

[soupdeewoop]

favorite lines from "THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT"

your wife waters flowers, i want to kill her

All my mornings are monday stuck in an endless february

but you're in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down the road

we're modern idiots

You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate

i scratch your head, you fall asleep, like a tattooed golden retriever

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me, but you told lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave

'cause it fit too right, puzzle pieces in the dead of night, I shouldve known it was a matter of time

'cause i knew too much, there was danger in the heat of my touch, he saw forever so he smashed it up

did you really beam me up?, in a cloud of sparkling dust, just to do experiments on, tell me I was the chosen one, showed me that this world is bigger than us, then sent me back where I came from

now im down bad crying at the gym, everything comes out teenage petulance, "fuck it if I cant have him", "I might just die, it would make no difference"

how dare you think its romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

my spine split from carrying us up to the hill, wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

thinking how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me? oh the tragedy

i stopped cpr, after all its no use

two graves, one gun, ill find someone

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? i died on the alter waiting for the proof

i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you

id rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin', ill tell you something 'bout my good name, its mine along with all the disgrace, I don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empire's clothing

there's a lot of people in town that I bestow upon my fakest smiles

my friends tried, but i wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing, for just one glimse of his smile

another summer, taking cover, rolling thunder, he doesnt understand me, splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter, he was with her in dreams

little did you know you home's really only a town youre just a guest in

florida, is one hell of a drug, florida, can I use you up?

little did you know your home's really only the town youll get arrested, so pack your life away just to wait out the shitstorm back in texas

i need to forget, so take me to florida, ive got some regrets, ill bury them in florida, tell me I'm despicable, say its unforgivable, at least the dolls are beautiful, fuck me up, florida

go on, fuck me up

this cage was once just fine, am i allowed to cry?

what if hes written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

these fatal fantasie given way to laboured breath taking all of me, weve already done in my head

what if the way you hold me is actually whats holy?

they dont know how youve haunted me so stunningly, i choose you and me, religiously

if you wanted me dead you shouldve just said

crash the party like a record crash as i scream, "whos afraid of little old me?", you should be

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me, you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

you caged me and then you called me crazy, i am what i am 'cause you trained me, so whos afraid of me?

they shake their heads saying, "god, help her" when i tell 'em hes my man

ill show you heaven if youll be an angel, all mine

whoa, maybe i cant

i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed

if you know it in one glimpse, its legendary, you and i go from one kiss to getting married

you shit-talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles, i wish i could unrecall, how we almost had it all

youre the loss of my life

the lights refract sequin stars off her silhouette every night, i can show you lies

'cause im a real tough kid, i can handle my shit, they said "babe, you gotta fake it till you make it" and i did

lights, camera, bitch, smile, even when you wanna die

im so depressed, i act like its my birthday everday

'cause im miserable (haha), and nobody even knows, try and come for my job

and i dont even want you back, i just want to know, if rusting my sparking summer was the goal

you didnt measure up in any measure of a man

in fifty years will all this be declassifed?, and ill say, "good riddance"

i wouldve died for youre sins, instead i just died inside

so when i touch down, call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team

'cause the sign on your heart said its still reserved for me, honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

he jokes that "its heroin, but this time with an E"

you look like clara bow

this town is fake but youre the real thing, breath of fresh ait through smoke rings

the crowd goes wild at her fingertip, half moon shine, a full eclipse

youre the new god were worshipping, promise to be dazzling

beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more

you look like taylor swift, in this light, were loving it, youve got edge, she never did, the futures bright, dazzling

[homesweetgoodneighbor]

Request for the song used in the "What if Hancock decided to go with 'sexy pirate' after all..." vid.

When it rains it pours Water's up to my chin Won't stop fighting To the very end Many men try to reach it Many men have failed If you wanna get to heaven You gotta raise a little hell

[diadxrling]

@amilliontales​:  ♫

𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙳  “   ♫   ”  𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 𝟹 - 𝟻 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃   𝙸 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷   𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚂

Sam Tinnesz - Play With Fire

I ride the edge My speed goes in the red Hot blood, these veins My pleasure is their pain

I love to watch the castles burn These golden ashes turn to dirt

I've always liked to play with fire Play with fire Play with fire Fire, fire I've always liked to play with fire

Ariana Grande - Dangerous Woman

All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God Don't you stop, boy

Somethin' 'bout you Makes me feel like a dangerous woman Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout Somethin' 'bout you Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout

Dorothy - Raise Hell

Young blood, run like a river Young blood, never get chained Young blood, heaven need a sinner You can't raise hell with a saint Young blood, came to start a riot Don't care what your old man say Young blood, heaven hate a sinner But we gonna raise hell anyway

Raise hell Yeah Raise hell Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell Baby drop them bones Baby sell that soul Baby fare thee well Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

[digestionsack]

El’s Playlist Part Two: The Self-Explanatories

As per the name, these songs are the ones that are pretty self-explanatory, that don’t really have too much to analyze. I thought I’d summarize them here just for reference, but these are mostly things we already know.

Alright gang leggo.

1: “Raise Hell” by Dorothy

So, as with a lot of the songs on her playlist, this song is about El being an inherent badass. Observe:

“Young blood, came to start a riot/Don't care what your old man say/Young blood, heaven hate a sinner/But we gonna raise hell anyway”

This song may also have a double meaning, a literal meaning, foreshadowing the events at the finale of S4 (the UD rising into Hawkins).

“Baby drop them bones/Baby sell that soul/Baby fare thee well”

Also, the lyrics above could loosely reference Vecna and the trances, but I don’t really think that was the reason they chose this song.

Another thing about this song is the artist, Dorothy. What I noticed while going through El’s playlist is that there is a “fairytale” motif of sorts—specifically referencing Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz. I’ll go through my in-depth thoughts on that in the conclusions and takeaways section of these analyses, but I’m just pointing them out in each individual song as well.

2: “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar

Again, a song about El fighting and being a badass.

“You come on with the come on/You don't fight fair/That's okay, see if I care!/Knock me down, it's all in vain/I get right back up on my feet again!”

Not giving us any info we didn’t know, but a solid song nonetheless.

3: “Don’t Wanna Fight” by Alabama Shakes

A lot of these songs could have double meanings, this one included. By just looking at the title, my impression was that this song was about El being tired of being put on a “superhero” pedestal by the people around her. She’s been fighting all her life, and she’s getting tired of having to do so.

“Living ain't no fun/The constant dedication/Keeping the water and power on/There ain't nobody left/Why can't I catch my breath?/I'm gonna work myself to death”

And then it could also be referencing El’s relationships, especially with the first lines of the song.

“My life, your life/Don't cross them lines/What you like, what I like/Why can't we both be right?/Attacking, defending/Until there's nothing left worth winning/Your pride and my pride/Don't waste my time”

…which could be about either Hopper or Mike (it’s a funny thing with this playlist—in songs like these, it’s kind of hard to differentiate the Mike/Hop/Brenner references). However, as accurate as these second set of lyrics seem to be in regards to El’s relationships, I think the overarching theme of the song when it comes to why it was put on El’s playlist is being tired of always having to fight, and just wanting to rest and live your life.

4: “Piece of My Heart” by Big Brother & The Hiding Company

And ladies and gentlemen, here we have one of MANY romantic tragedy/breakup songs.

“Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man? Yeah/And didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can?/Honey, you know I did/And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough/But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough”

The song is basically saying, “I gave you my heart, I gave you all I could, but you’re still hurting me.” This has a specifically romantically theme. Mike, bud, come on…

5: “Good Girls” by Elle King

Yep, another song about El being a badass.

“Hey, hey, hey/Since I'm gonna go to Hell anyway/I'll go out with a bang, bang, bang/Crash and burn it all away/Hey, hey, hey/Since I'm gonna go to Hell anyway/I'll go out with a bang, bang, bang/Crash and burn it all away”

What I find interesting is that this song is in one of the newer Ghostbusters…just a fun little thing.

6: “Gotta Get Out Tonight” by The Runaways

So what I noticed is that El, like Mike, sort of has a “running away” motif in her playlist. It’s not nearly as persistent as Mike’s, and I think El’s motif is more about what we already know about her at this point, but I thought I’d mention it nonetheless. I used Mike’s motif to justify my theory that he will leave Hawkins at the end of the show, and now I’m wondering if El will also leave (I personally love the “gap year with Max” hc).

I think this particular song is about El leaving Hawkins to find her sister. There are a lot of ways you could interpret this song, it could have multiple meanings, but this meaning seems pretty solid, since this playlist was released to promote S2.

“Gotta get out tonite/The wild one is callin' me/Gotta get out tonite/Out on the town is where I'll be alright”

7: “Don’t” by Larkin Poe

I was going back and forth over whether this song was about Mike or Hopper (wow, they really said “hmmm you know let’s compare him to ALL the father figures MWAHAHA”), but in the end, it reminds me more of S3 Hopper.

“Don't Honey don't bust down my door/Tellin' me what I should do/You've been around time and again/But you don't give a damn about where I've been”

8: “You’re No Good” by Linda Ronstadt

What’s concerning to me is that at first I couldn’t tell whether this song was supposed to be about Brenner or Mike…wow. But after sitting with it a bit, I think this song is supposed to be about Brenner. S4 emphasized El realizing Brenner’s abuse most prominently (even though we know that she was also not happy with Mike’s behaviour).

“Feelin' better now that we're through/Feelin' better, 'cause I'm over you/I learned my lesson, it left a scar/Now I see how you really are”

“I'm tellin' you now, baby/And I'm going my way/Forget about you, baby/'Cause I'm leavin' to stay”

9: “Cruel Summer” by Bananorama

This one’s pretty self-explanatory—it’s basically the mood of S3. Summer arrives, supernatural shit ensues. So it goes.

“Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning/I sit around/Trying to smile but the air is so heavy and dry/Strange voices are sayin' (what did they say?)/Things I can't understand/It's too close for comfort, this heat has got right out of hand”

Yay, Part 2 done! Now for Part 3…

[sobsicles]

claire's not expecting them to be at the door. she blinks at the sight of four men all huddled on the stoop with flowers and what appears to be bags of food flowing from their arms. jack is peeking above a bouquet, beaming at her.

"who's at the door?!" jody calls from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the sound of grease popping and the clanking of pans and spatulas meeting over and over.

"god," claire calls back, because she likes to think she's funny.

there's a beat of silence, and then jody's sticking her head out the kitchen. the moment she sees them, she breaks out into a grin and saunters over, shoving the spatula in claire's hand as she chatters away.

"what's going on out there?" donna asks as claire escapes back to the kitchen to poke at food jody is apparently willing to burn just because the winchesters decided to show their faces today of all days.

"judgement day," claire says dryly.

donna shares a look with patience. "haven't we dealt with that already a few times?"

"only by association," claire admits, "but i wouldn't put it past them to bring it along with 'em now. the boys are here."

"oh, isn't that nice?" donna chirps, already popping up from her chair. "i didn't know they were stopping by today."

"wonder how sam's doing," patience agrees, wandering out the kitchen right along with donna. claire can hear everyone cracking up and talking in the living room.

trust the winchesters to shake things up just by showing up. can't have one goddamn day, can they? well, that's not true. in their case, as far as claire is concerned, they're shitty for showing up and shitty for not. someone has to knock 'em all down a peg or two, so she might as well be the one.

"what did that chicken ever do to you?" kaia asks teasingly as she sidles into the kitchen and stops by the stove, hip-checking claire out of the way to take over.

"the boys are here," claire informs her.

kaia raises her eyebrows. "like, the boys as in the winchesters, or is this a milkshake pun?"

"i can only be so gay, sweetheart," claire says, shooting her a flat look.

"raise the bar a little. could be gayer. you can always be gayer," kaia teases, reaching out to sneak her hand around claire's hip, her eyes bright with amusement.

"you know what? you're right," claire agrees and immediately tries to cop a feel while kaia laughs and dances out of range.

jack appears in the doorway. "hello," he says, whispering for some reason. "claire, i need your help."

"no," claire says, not even glancing at him. she continues to try and put her hand up kaia's shirt, just to see her laugh.

"can i borrow twenty dollars?" jack asks.

"no. aren't you god?"

"yes, but i don't get paid to be."

"well, sucks for you. borrow money from cas," claire mutters, settling in behind kaia as she focuses on the food on the stove, swatting lazily at claire's roaming hands.

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from sam."

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from—wait, why does it matter if it's from dean? just borrow from him."

jack huffs. "i can't. i need the money for dean. i have a card, and i read online it's customary to give money with a card. also, will you sign it?"

"you got dean a card?" claire asks, craning her head around to stare at jack skeptically.

"yes."

"don't tell me it's for what i think it is."

"mother's day," jack confirms unironically.

claire wheezes out a laugh. "oh my god."

"there's a pen in the catty on the fridge," kaia says, clearly amused.

"yeah. yeah, this is—yeah." claire chokes on more laughter and stumbles towards the group of pens in the magnet container on the fridge. she waggles her fingers at jack, clearing her throat, lips twitching. "hand it over, beanstalk. you're a fucking genius."

"oh! thank you," jack declares cheerfully, passing over the card. "so, can i borrow twenty dollars?"

"hell no," claire says. she braces the card against the fridge and swallows down a laugh. sam has already signed it. this just gets better and better. happy mother's day, old man, aka the secondary source of my mommy and daddy issues. you're going for gold with this double-whammy, she writes.

"but i need it," jack insists, staring at her with wide eyes.

claire shrugs. "tough break, kid. what, cas doesn't give you an allowance? is it just me, or are dads getting stricter these days?"

"i didn't think about it in advance," jack admits sadly. "i want to do it right for the holiday. it's mother's day, claire."

"i'm well aware. sorry to break it to you, kid, but last I checked, your mom's as dead as mine," claire tells him, her voice flat. he frowns and she forces herself not to feel bad. everything that sucks for him sucked for her first, so her sympathy levels are a little drained. "father's day will roll around eventually, and you've got a long line of those, so wait your turn."

"i've already done something for my mother today," jack says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "i visited her in heaven."

claire snorts derisively and passes the card back over. "must be nice."

"it was," jack agrees, completely missing the point. "i really can't borrow twenty dollars? i'll pay you back."

"nah," claire says. "who cares anyway? wait, why is dean the mom?"

"well, castiel is my father."

"ah, so it's about them having the hots for each other, then? really, kid, you coulda just made dean your step-dad."

jack blinks. "they have the...hots for each other? you mean sex. they have sex?"

"you know what?" claire points at him with her free hand. "i'm not gonna burst your bubble on that one. you've got enough issues on your own without wondering if mommy and daddy still have a spark, so I'm gonna leave that alone. i've got five dollars. take it or leave it."

"deal," jack says immediately.

money is exchanged, and jack looks like he's on cloud nine. claire's just stoked to see the expression on dean's face when he gets the card. it's a homemade card and everything, nothing like the two claire, kaia, patience, and alex got for jody and donna.

claire helps kaia finish up the chicken, which promptly gets set aside to wait on the rest of the food in the oven. sam wanders in at some point to drop off the food they brought. dessert, by the looks of it. pies and cakes that go in the fridge. it's kind of them, but claire would shoot herself in the foot before she ever admits it.

she lets kaia tug her into the living room where everyone is already at, rolling her eyes at how cheered everyone seems just because the winchesters happened to grace their doorstep. really, they all suck.

but also—and claire will never admit this, not even to save her own life—it's nice to see 'em again. it's nice that they've come to celebrate the day in jody and donna's name, giving them flowers and such. it's nice that they hang around for a bit and don't bring the world crashing down on everyone for the duration of their stay.

and, well, it's nice to see cas, too.

he perches up next to the couch that claire is squeezed on with alex, donna, kaia, and jack. kaia is practically in her lap, but claire is secretly glad for the excuse. while everyone talks and has conversations across one another, cas focuses entirely on her.

another thing claire will never admit is how reluctantly pleased by that she is. it warms her. stupidly, it turns soft and gooey in her chest that he automatically gives her his undivided attention over everyone else, even jack. but, then again, it's not cas' day, so she doesn't have to look too close to that feeling. it's mother's day, so it's not about him.

when the food is ready, they reconvene in the kitchen, and that's when they crack out the cards and gifts. claire is practically vibrating with laughter before jack has even brought his card out. before that, though, she smiles softly and strokes kaia's thigh under the table as jody and donna read their cards and chuckle at the messages, their gazes warm and their smiles sweet. they look happy. they deserve to be.

"okay, last one," claire announces, grinning at jack. she's starting to think she likes this kid if he's an agent of chaos like this.

and okay, maybe she hates him a little in abstract, but in detail, she finds that she does actually like him. you kinda just wanna put him in your pocket without meaning to, she's learned. there's too much to explore with the whole psuedo sibling thing and parents that aren't parents, as well as parents that are but didn't choose to be, only he did choose one of them, and it wasn't her. it's complicated, but underneath it all, there's a vibrant love there that she can't look directly at. sometimes, she despises that she's included in it; yet, just the same, she's thankful that she is.

"oh hell," dean mutters, swinging his gaze between alex and patience. "one of you...ya know? did we miss something?"

claire snorts.

"what? no," alex replies, grimacing. "i have no idea what claire's talking about. claire, what the hell are you talking about?"

"jack?" claire prompts in a wheeze.

"here you go," jack chirps, holding out the card to dean, beaming. "happy mother's day."

the expression on dean's face is somehow even better than claire imagined. she howls with laughter while sam buries his face in his hands, his shoulders jerking. cas squints at jack, and jody's eyebrows fly up at the same exact time that donna grins.

"is this a joke?" dean sputters.

"no, no, nope," claire chokes out, nearly fucking crying with laughter. "happy mother's day, dean."

"you gotta take it, man," sam agrees, clearing his throat and biting back a smile as he bobs his head dutifully towards the card.

dean fixes sam with a flat look and snatches the card. "you're all so fucking—sam, you signed it?!"

"happy mother's day," sam says, his mouth pinched, visibly trying not to laugh.

"do you like it?" jack asks earnestly. "i made the card, sam signed it first, and claire provided the money."

"i—" dean stares down at the card, then heaves a sigh and looks up at jack. it's clear to him that—out of everyone—jack is clearly taking this very seriously. he offers him a weak smile, then swallows. "yeah, s'great, kid. thank you. sam, you are dead to me. claire, i will be spending this on something you hate. cas, this is somehow your fault."

"yup, sounds like a mother to me," jody declares, holding up her beer with a smile.

"welcome to the club," donna agrees, holding hers up as well. "everyone else annoys the shit out of you, but you love 'em anyway."

dean sighs and clinks his beer to theirs.

[rul-of-demise]

WAIT WHAT?!—

Summary: You were older than the brothers, the demon king even God, or that wasn't their real status...

Gender: male

Author Note: For everyone confused on this, this is an AU on what my mind has been going wild around. Mc here is a soul that borrowed another person's body that was dead and what I mean is like you older than them is that they haven't existed yet also if you are a religious person then I do not recommend reading it since I don't wanna offend anyone just because of fanfic.

Warnings: Blood, war, etc

Genre: short fanfiction?

In your old times, everything hasn't existed yet. Earth, humans, demons, etc haven't been created when you are alive with others... Living creature.

You live in are a planet that humans call "Pluto" now but long forgotten it was a wonderful planet with your God's. Yes that is right, there was more than one God but they live on each of the planets.

You put your loyalty to the God of Karma in pluto but that didn't last long until there was War announced, it was happening too fast.

A lot of things, blood... Swords, fire everything. You still remember this day of the war from now on.

After the war, some planet was destroyed leaving only 8 planets left but... You still remember the light shine in your eyes, after everything you asked yourself "was it worth it...?".

After what seems years have passed, your soul has gone to another world a different dimension... That trained you to become a person, a new one that will try everything in their power to help.

You have learned some magick that brings you back to your original dimension to which succeeded.

You look around this new planet call earth, and you gotta say it was kinda... Nice but not due to have a war now on this earth. (This does not involve country related, it fictions)

You took someone's body to possess them to walk around freely without any weird stares of your language? And clothes.

And now you here in devildom being an exchange student in RAD... You never expected to be in pact with them especially to Belphegor.

Oh well, at least he can change... But you haven't told the truth yet. Yes you did get 'killed' by belp but you are still alive after that, you don't need oxygen to live after all you immortal.

You were simply knock out waking up in mammon's arms his eyes widen when he sees you still alive, "h-how?!" Mammon shout but not loud enough.

You stand up from your lying position "I do know that I'm alive, yes I am but I wish to not tell what I am until I'm comfortable but... I'm still a human" you explain to them while they still asking the question but at least it not what they ask what you are at least...

And now you are here in the common room with everyone, it went well until luke ask you if you believe in God.

"Hey Mc, do you believe in God?" Luke ask while you raised your eyebrow at him, "Which... God?-" you could tell that some-nevermind all of them look at you shock.

"Pretty sure, there only one God mc..." Everyone replies to you back while you are confused and remember that you haven't tell your little secret...

(I think that everyone HAS met the demigod but other Gods exist???-Nope they never)

"Oh yeah... Kinda forgot to tell you guys" you laugh awkward looking at them, "Basically, I'm older than you guys" they give a confused look once again.

"How do I explain this...-" you explain properly to them that in years ago, so long before even earth, heaven and hell was make you were on a planet called Pluto. It took a lot of mins to explain them to the point your voice sound sore in expected Barbatos give you a tea.

"So now I'm here with a human body I guess...- just because I have this kind of soul, planet-related thing. I'm still a human with human-related knowledge for years now" you explain to them and oh boy.... A lot of questions.

I don't know if I should continue this...-it seems childish honestly.

[mizunetzu]

Tags~: @scifiji @shiny-bun @luv-hqs @gummiebearsmp4 @aquariusmurderer @inarizza @roadkillarr (finally I made the part two AHAHAH)

——————

Kita x reader - warm, warm professions (God I love you so much) (cold cold obvs. Part 2)

Warnings - ahaha angst, crying Kita

Pronouns - male, he/him

you can find part one here!

——————

“Shicchan, your hands are so cold...”

(Y/n) cupped both of Kita’s numb hands in his own. Kita tensed, looking down at both of their hands. He felt his own hands being attacked with (Y/n’s) warm ones, his cold, cold hands already thawing just at the one touch.

“Isn’t it hard to toss the ball when you’re hands are numb? That’s bad!” (Y/n) brought Kita’s hands to cup his face, his hands stinging from how warm his cheeks were.

(Y/n) nuzzled his face into Kita’s left hand. He practically murmured into his palm. “How’d they get so cold in the first place?”

Kita wouldn’t show it, in fact he didn’t think he could if he tried, but the warmth that spread across his chest made him suddenly want to run laps. He settled for slightly gripping and rubbing (Y/n’s) cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t know.” Was all Kita could muster. He was too lost in (Y/n’s) captivating eyes.

God, he loved him so much.

——

Numb.

Numb was the way Kita would describe the feeling in his mouth.

He sat quietly on a foldable chair in the gym, twirling his fingers together instead of watching the practice match going on. He didn’t think he could pay attention if he tried, when he used to be able to have his eyes glued onto the ball even though he was on the sidelines. His fingers felt kind of numb.

He wrapped his fingers up in his shirt to no avail. All it did was make his stomach cold from his fingers bitter touch. It wasn’t even that cold outside. It was a rather nice day in terms of weather. But it didn’t feel like that at all.

“-ita. Kita!”

Kita raised his head. Atsumu loomed above him with his arms crossed.

“...Did you need something, Atsumu-san?”

“Yeah. Why’re ya actin’ all depressed? You’re makin’ everyone feel depressed too, y’know.”

“Atsumu! Shut the fuck up!” Kita heard someone whisper-yell, as well as a grunt of pain from Atsumu. Kita blinked.

“Nothing...much.”

“Nothin’ much?! How bout’ when you started cryin’ yer ass off during practice a week ago? Didn’t seem like nothin’ to me!”

Osamu slapped Atsumu upside the head. Aran sighed.

“I gotta agree with Atsumu-san on this. You don’t look too good these days. Especially since (L/n)-san stopped showin’ up to practice.”

There was hums and nods of agreement. Kita pursed his lips.

“Did...did something happen between y’all?”

Kita couldn’t look Aran in the eyes. He, also, used to have no problem speaking his mind (in fact sometimes it came out automatically) but right now his mouth was glued shut. Now, and probably forever. He didn’t wanna say it. He didn’t wanna think it. He didn’t wanna hear it-

“Kita and (L/n) broke up a week ago.”

Suna pitched in monotonously. Kita flinched subtly. The gym was silent. All eyes were on Kita. His throbbing, cold hands didn’t help, as he tried warming them up discreetly by stuffing them under the backside of his shirt.

“Oh...uh, sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mind.”

The awkward, sympathetic pats on the back didn’t really help either, but he replied with a curt “s’fine.” nonetheless.

——

(Y/n) kissed the back of Kita’s hand.

“Looks like your hands warmin’ up...” He drew it away from his lips and examined it with half lidded eyes and a reserved smile. Kita watched as tiny specs of sun fluttered around (Y/n’s) warm face, painting his face and hair with light that made him look like an angel sent from heaven.

Kita mindlessly brought his free hand up to the side of (Y/n’s) face, touching and stroking his cheek with the grace of a feather. (Y/n) looked up from his hand, up at Kita’s face.

(Y/n) leaned into his touch. He used his other hand to cup the hand resting peacefully on his cheek, nuzzling his nose further into Kita’s palm.

“Something wrong?”

“No...”

Kita felt a throbbing, hazy feeling in his chest. Like something inside his ribcage was trying to break free, and explode into a million pieces.

“Then, do you just like holding my face?” (Y/n) smiled that smile that made him go weak in the knees. “That’s good...I like it when you hold my face too.”

God, he loved him so much.

——

Kita slumped down, doubled over himself panting and heaving on the sidewalk where Inarizaki was collectively jogging. Ginjima stopped in front of Kita, jogging in place.

“You’re usually in the very front of the pack when we all run.” He said in between huffs.

Kita said nothing, only panting and crouching down to catch his breath.

“You run in the very back of the group now.”

He was met with no response again. Ginjima stopped running in place, and stared down pitifully at Kita’s hunched over body.

“S’everything alright back there?!” Aran called out from a distance. Ginjima yelled out a “Everything’s fine!” While waving his arms around in the air until Aran waved back. Ginjima looked back at Kitas scrunched up form.

“Y’know-maybe you should just...go home for the day. Take a break.”

Kita looked up at him with dry, tired eyes. His throat refused to put out any other sounds than exhales the occasional cough.

“Go freshen up and go home. You won’t die missing a day of practice.” Ginjima crouched down to Kita’s face, his voice noticeably softer and careful. “It’s not like you to push yourself when you know you’re not doing well.”

“I’m not sick, it’s not the same thing-“

“But you’re heartbroken.”

Heartbroken. Kita supposed that was the word to describe his situation right now. Heartbroken, yet it didn’t feel like the correct word to describe how he felt. He felt like he was dying. Drowning. Freezing.

“I’ll walk you back, ‘kay?” Ginjima pushed off his feet, extending a hand over to Kita. He pulled him up, and Kita swayed in the air like a bobblehead. “Go change and go home. We’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry. I’ll tell the others you went home.”

Ginjima and Kita walked in the opposite direction they were running. Kita downcast his face.

“M’kay.”

——

“Do you love me?”

Kita remembered the way (Y/n’s) face didn’t radiate the warm glow it usually did when he was around him. His eyes looked strained, infuriated even, and he looked like he wanted to say something more. But it was a simple question, ‘do you love me?’. And of course he did. So that’s what he said.

“...Of course I-“

“”of course I do.” That’s what you always say..! Say something else, dammit! Say you love me!”

(Y/n) abruptly rose from his seat, stepping over the bench and grabbing Kita by the collar. He pulled him closer to his face, shaking him by the shirt with knuckles that almost turned white.

“M-Make me believe that you love me!”

He really wish he didn’t remember how much tears flowed freely from (Y/n’s) eyes, and how he was biting and gnawing at his lip to keep from screaming, or the way he shook with despair in general. It played over and over again, the same sorrow-riddled expression that made Kita’s stomach drop.

He really wish he didn’t remember. But he wished he’d said something, anything, even more.

(Y/n’s) face went from angry and sad, to numb and cold in a matter of seconds. He’d much rather prefer the heated look of (Y/n’s) angry face, than the stone cold lifeless look (Y/n) held when he let go of his shirt. Because even with his angry sobs and screams, there was still a hint of warmth. Even if it was angry passion, it was still better than the cold, dead stare he held that Kita couldn’t meet.

“...I think we should break up.”

Kita’s world went silent. He was struck with an immediate shock of dread, panic, stress, and everything in between. He had so many questions. Why? Didn’t he know that he loved him? He loved him so, so much, so why was he saying that he didn’t? Was his love not enough? Didn’t he know how much he needed him?

He had so many questions, yet his face made of cold stone could only say one thing.

“Why?”

(Y/n’s) iron clad grip on Kita’s shirt loosened, he stepped back, face feeling raw after crying. “I don’t want to be with someone who can’t tell me they love me. Once you can tell me you love me, and mean it, I’m all ears.”

Kita watched as (Y/n) turned his back on him for the first and last time. More thoughts raced in his head. He could change. He could do better. He’d love him a thousand times more, fix every little imperfection, hell, do it a thousand times over again if it meant that (Y/n) would turn around with that warm smile again. He wanted see that smile again. That smile that made him feel so warm. Please. One more time. Kita’s arm gravitated outwards, reaching for (Y/n’s) cold back as he turned away. One more time, please smile for me.

But he didn’t. He was met with nothing more than a cold shoulder.

He was left with the sudden drop in temperature, the world once filled with so much warmth being winded away into a cold wasteland. Kita looked down, his eyes numb and wide.

“Please come back...” he remembered saying, though he didn’t think it ever came out audibly.

“I love you, (Y/n)...”

‘God...dear God...’

He loved him so much.

‘Why did you take him away from me?’

‘The gods were always listening, is what my Baa-san would always say. Were the gods not listening to my undying love for you, (L/n)(Y/n)? Was my feelings for you not enough to make you smile for me one last time? God, I loved you so much.’

‘So did I not love you enough?’

——

Kita found himself sitting on the same bench (Y/n) professed his love for him to. Granted, it was the same bench they had broken up on, but Kita didn’t want to think about that.

He twirled a wilted cherry blossom petal in between his fingers. The rigid, dark pink petal cracked and crumbled, turning into dust in Kita’s hand.

As much as he hated this place, this stupid stone bench with a cherry blossom tree, it was a beautiful sight that not much students knew about. It was quiet, but it caused (Y/n’s) cold, cold eyes to bore into his mind all the more he stayed. It was a double edged sword.

He sometimes wondered what (Y/n) was doing with his free time outside of the club. What did he do? Did he take a nap after classes? His sleeping face looked very cute, though he only saw it once when he dozed off studying at his house. Did he spend time with his parents? He always found people respectable to their parents very attractive. Did he find a new club to stay with?

Kita clenched his fists. The thought of (Y/n) playing a different sport, doing something else after school, didn’t sit right with him. Was that what he was doing? Did he realize how cold and uncomfortable he made volleyball for him, and decided to leave? Would he never see him smiling up at him again after school?

Would he never see (L/n) (Y/n’s) warm, warm smile directed at him ever again?

He heard footsteps echo on the grass behind him. The footsteps halted awkwardly, and Kita turned around.

(Y/n) locked eyes with Kita. He should’ve been paying attention to where he was going, huh? Maybe if he was looking where he was walking, he could’ve noticed Kita Shinsuke sitting there, and could’ve found a different spot to sit at after school.

(Y/n) wasted no time spinning on his heel and leaving. He didn’t wanna face Kita after everything that went down.

Kita feet sprang him up and off the bench. He didn’t know what he was doing, but the next thing he knew was that his arms wrapped around (Y/n’s) body, holding him while he was facing away. Kita’s mind raced with thoughts and went absolutely blank at the same time.

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “What do you want?” He said. It came out harsher than he intended, but Kita paid no mind. He wordlessly buried his face into the crook of (Y/n’s) neck, nuzzling it and relishing in the warmth that was not intended for him.

“H-hey! What gives!” (Y/n) half-heartedly tried pushing Kita away. He knew if he gave in now, he’d come crawling back into Kita’s cold, loveless arms, craving that touch and pretending it was indeed, love. “Don’t...don’t touch me, Kita-“

“Shinsuke.”

The arm that was trying to push Kita away went limp. (Y/n’s) hardened exterior cracked as his resolve faltered. Kita buried himself deeper into (Y/n’s) shoulder, firmly wrapping his arms around (Y/n) tightly. He was practically murmuring into (Y/n’s) school uniform.

“Call...call me Shinsuke...it’s what you used to call me...when we first started dating...”

“Well,” (Y/n) downcast his face, his eyes hardened and cold while he balled up his fists. “We aren’t dating. So why does it-“

All of (Y/n’s) resolve, all the time he spent putting up the barrier to his emotions, shattered once he heard the first sniffle from Kita.

After that, Kita fell apart like dominoes.

His grip on (Y/n’s) waist tightened as he shook violently, sobs crescendoed and ripping through his body explosively, unlike the silent tears that he shed that day he left. His whimpers and choked cries were muffled from the cloth of (Y/n’s) uniform. He loved him so much. Why couldn’t he see how much he loved him?

Kita cried and cried on (Y/n’s) shoulder. He couldn’t see the type of face (Y/n) was making, and that made him all the more nervous. He wanted to feel the warmth of (Y/n) at least one last time. After that, he swore he would move on. He swore. He swore, so one last time. Please.

(Y/n) sighed. “Kita...”

Kita didn’t respond. He continued to cry pathetically onto (Y/n’s) shoulder.

“Kita-kun.”

This time, Kita shakily shook his head. (Y/n) sighed, this time more stably, and untangled Kita’s vice grip from his body.

“Shinsuke-kun...”

Kita, confused and sad, finally caught a glimpse of (Y/n’s) face when he turned around. He had a look of empathy, his warm hands brought up to his cheeks, melting his ice cold skin awake. Kita rumbled with another choked sob, closing his eyes and sobbing into (Y/n’s) hands. It was so warm. After the cold winter storm he’d suffered through, the first ray of sunshine that shone through always felt the best.

“Shinsuke-kun,” (Y/n) repeated. Kita hiccuped, trying to stop his tears from falling.

“P-lease come back...” Kita’s voice was hoarse, cracking with every word. “I-I don’t like this...”

(Y/n) said nothing. Kita broke free from (Y/n’s) soft grip on his face, and brought him into a hug. He was never much for physical affection, but right now (Y/n) felt so, so warm.

“You’ve...you’ve treated me so kind...I-I’m sorry...i’ve been so cold...” Kita rambled on, sobbing into (Y/n’s) hair quietly. (Y/n) still didn’t say anything.

“I-I...didn’t mean to...I swear...! I’ll be a better boyfriend...please...I’ll love you correctly...”

(Y/n’s) silence was defecating. Kita felt his ears go numb with the silent treatment he was being put through. Was this his punishment?

“I...say something...! Please...” Kita whispered, tears gathering at his eyes once more. “Please...”

Then, (Y/n) finally wrapped his warm arms around Kita. He mumbled pathetically, “Y’know I don’t like it when people cry, Shinsuke...”

It was Kita’s turn to go quiet. (Y/n) pulled away, much to Kita’s protest. However, the warm smile (Y/n) gave him made his heart throb and his throat close up.

(Y/n) caressed Kita’s face with his thumb. “Stop crying...”

“I love you...” Kita whispered, his voice cracking at the seams. (Y/n’s) face adorned a look of astonishment, a slight blush lighting up his already perfect sunny face.

(Y/n) smiled again. That same smile Kita had been craving for forever.

“T-Tell me that again...please.”

Kita collapsed into (Y/n’s) warm arms. Choked sobs of “I-I love you-!” And “I-I love you so much...” echoed through the air. The emotionless barrier, holding all of Kita’s emotions captive to the world, cracked and shattered, his crying face bearing the weight of a man who loved (L/n) (Y/n) with his entire being.

(Y/n) stroked the back of Kita’s head softly.

“Of course you do...”

God, he loved him so much.

——————

[inkmemes]

futurama  (  1999  -  2013  )  sentence  starters  ↪  taken  from  the  animated  science  fiction  show.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“let's get the hell out of here already! screw history!”

“when you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.”

“you have to use a light touch, like a safecracker or a pickpocket.”

 "stop! the spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."

"she's stuck in an infinite loop and he's an idiot. that's love for you."

"all i know is my gut says maybe."

“i've never seen a super nova blow up. but if it's anything like my old chevy nova, it'll light up the night sky!”

"every christmas my mom would get a fresh goose, for goose-burgers, and my dad would whip up special eggnog out of bourbon and ice cubes."

"what do i look like, a guy who's not lazy?"

“is heaven missing an angel, cuz you've got nice cans!”

“help! a guinea pig tricked me!"

"[name], if i said you said you had a beautiful body, would you take your pants off and dance around a little."

"drugs are for weirdos and hypnosis is for weirdos with big eyebrows." 

"[name], it would never work between us. you're a man, and i'm a woman. we're just too different."

“screw you, ill have my own contest. with black jack ... and hookers. forget the contest.”

“ah, she's built like a steakhouse but she handles like a bistro.”

"spare me your space age techno babble, [name].”

"it's sort of a two person pyramid scheme."

"i don't want to live on this planet anymore."

"you were doing well, until everyone died."

“if we hit that bullseye, the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards. checkmate.”

“i am the man with no name. [muse name], at your service.”

“in the game of chess, you can never let your adversary see your pieces.”

"this is the worst kind of discrimination, the kind against me."

"you watched it... you can't unwatch it."

“valentine’s day is coming? aw crap! i forgot to get a girlfriend again!”

 "hold on to your dookie, it’s about to get spooky!"

"i'm tired of this room and everyone in it."

"i'm so embarrassed. i wish everyone else was dead."

"you can't just have your characters announce how they feel! that makes me feel angry!"

"i don't have emotions, and sometimes that makes me very sad."

"if, for any reason you're not satisfied, i hate you."

"that young man fills me with hope. plus some other emotions which are weird and deeply confusing." 

"i've dreamed about you a lot since you disappeared. what did you want to tell me?" 

"what do you think the meaning of life was anyway?"

“you're a pimple on society's ass and you'll never amount to anything!”

“life and death are a seamless continuum.”

“if anyone wants me, i'll be in the angry dome.”

“and the worst part is, i had to have the breakup sex by myself!”

“they said i was dumb, but i proved them.”

“what's the point of living if i can't say ass?”

“i'll be stuffing coal so far down your stocking you'll be coughing up diamonds!”

“we're all pawns in his diabolical game of checkers.”

"wait, i'm having one of those things, a headache, with pictures!"

“sorry, i didn't realize i was already here.”

"guess what you're an accessory to!"

"why does ross, the largest friend, not simply eat the other friends?"

“there's no scientific consensus that life is important.”

"we cooked our shoes in the dryer and ate them! now we're bored!"

“i'm just as important as him. it's just that, the kind of importance i have ... it doesn't matter if i don't do it.”

“oh what a foolish squid i’ve been.”

“my instinct is to hide in this barrel, like the wily fish.”

"that was bad, and you should feel bad!"

"technically correct - the best kind of correct!"

"and here is where i keep my assorted lengths of wire!"

"oh wait, you are serious! let me laugh even harder!"

"i gotta practice my stabbing!"

"that's the saltiest thing i've ever tasted! and i once ate a big, heaping bowl of salt!"

“i apologize for nothing!”

 "die young and leave a beautiful corpse! that's what i always say."

"here's to another lousy millennium."

“but i am already in my pajamas.”

“windmills do not work that way. goodnight.”

"you win again gravity."

"when push comes to shove, you got to do what you love, even if it's not a good idea.”

“but existing's basically all i do!”

“when will the killing end?"

"i'll be whatever i want to do."

"the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention. now that. is. irony."

"could you ask a little more sexfully?"

"hooray! i'm useful!"

"awesome. awesome to the max."

"some breaking occurred, the dolly was involved, that's about all we know."

“you want me to do two things?”

i love stealin', i love takin' things!

“i believe that qualifies as ill. at least from a technical standpoint.”

"that was the old me. he's dead now."

"jail ain't so bad; you can make sangria in the toilet. ‘course, it's shank or be shanked."

"one word. thundercougarfalconbird."

"of all my friends, you're the first."

“girls like swarms of lizards, right?”

“i lost it. in a volcano.”

"i'm gonna get you so many lizards!"

"who needs courage when you have a gun?"

“let's go! i've got jelly in my underpants!”

"interesting if true."

“i did do the nasty in the pasty!”

"something tells me i could easily beat those trained professionals."

"the two of you are good friends? but i thought we would be good friends!"

"it's like a party in my mouth, except everyone's throwing up."

“i'm shocked. shocked! well, not that shocked.”

“it's me! no one else look in this mirror!"

“you ever think you only like girls cause you're supposed to?”

"we don't gotta put up with this! we got poli sci degrees."

“sorry, i suffer from a very sexy learning disorder.”

“did somebody say something about a free hot meal?”

“you gotta do what you gotta do.”

"too many bones? not enough cash?"

“hey sexy mama, wanna kill all humans?”

"i don't know how you did that."

"the butter in my pocket is melting!"

"well ... first i got up and had a piece of toast ..."

“i can't wait til i'm old enough to feel ways about stuff.”

“interesting! no ... wait ... the other thing. tedious.”

"i knew you come crawling back, like a bird on its belly!"

“we both know you won't make it halfway before the craving sets in! then you'll come crawling back for another taste of sweet sweet candy. bam!"

“indeed so, most indeededly.”

"and by metaphorically, i mean get your coat."

“[vehicle]'s ready except for this cup holder, and i should have that done in 12 hours."

"stop. stop! i will destroy you." [ bonus if the receiver is doing something mundane to sender ]

“just make a simple cake. and this time, if someone's going to jump out of it, make sure to put them in after you cook it.”

“lies, lies and slander!”

“you raised my hopes and dashed them quite expertly, sir!”

“but going through a divorce together, you can't pretend that didn't bring us closer together.”

“when you say the human body is the most efficient thing to use as a battery, wouldn't anything make a better battery? like a potato? or a battery?”

“i'll have you know that i bejazzle my own underpants!”

“i'm sorry you had to see that, [name], usually i let my sadness fester quietly inside as a mental illness.”

“i'm not drunk, i'm mentally ill! but i agree with what, what you said.”

“this is a cool way to die!”

[santacarlasweetheart]

Back Door Man

hi! this is the first fic i have EVER written ! based on my honey @theyreonlynoodlesmike ‘s hc (that cracks me up every time) that Paul has a thing for married for women <3

Warnings: swearing, discussions of sex, paul being gross 

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

An unmistakable howling laugh echoed off the walls of the cave. 

David looked up from the book in his lap to see the tall, slender blonde bounding down the entry stairs. “Do I even wanna know what kinda trouble you just caused?”

Paul laughed, tossing his head back as he rocked on his heels “Oh man you guys are gonna flip-”

“At this point you couldn’t surprise us if you tried Paul.” Dwayne hadn’t turned to look away from the crate that held a portion of their vinyl collection. Kneeled down next to it and flipping through records, he was seemingly uninterested in the other man’s antics. His indifference was simply an act though, he was always willing to hear about his friends’ escapades.

“Nah nah nah, this is a new one.” Paul had made his way over to one of the couches by now, opening up the large steamer trunk that acted as both storage and a makeshift coffee table. “So,” he spoke as he dug around in the trunk, looking for his pot stash to roll himself his usual post romp joint. “I was with that babe from the diner, ya know-”

“Wow, never heard this one before.” Marko commented from beside him on the couch, cutting Paul off before he could even name the woman in question.

“Wouldya shut up and let me tell my story! Jeez, anyway,” He was bent over his rolling tray now, nimble fingers quickly moving through long practiced motions. “She takes me home. It’s this real nice place in the suburbs, cute lil’ house. So, we’re gettin’ down to business,” He wiggles his eyebrows, mostly to himself, but also on the off chance one of his friends might actually be paying attention to him “Right on the living room couch dude, she didn’t even bother to take me to the bedroom.”

“Nice.” Marko says and at the same time David sighs out “Gross.”

“Yo, Dwayne you want me to roll you one before I put this shit away?” Paul paused his story, he might have been Santa Carla’s biggest sleaze but he always had manners when it came to his friends.

“Yes please.” The brunette responded as he finally settled on a record, standing up from where he'd been crouching. “Might make your grossness a little easier to stomach.” A smile tugged at his lips as he turned to join them in the sitting area.

“So,” Paul huffed out a laugh, both at Dwayne’s response and the direction his story was going in. “I’m like, straight up goin’ to town on her,” He leans back in his seat, tipping his head back as he raises his voice for emphasis. “She’s screaming, clawin’ at my back and shit. Like a damn cat in heat. And then.” He pauses to lick the joint between his fingers and pass it to Dwayne. David rolled his eyes at the lull. He thought after sixty-something years he’d be used to Paul’s inability to smoothly tell a story, but that day was yet to come. “And then I hear somethin’, sounds like a car pulling up in front of the house. I dont really think anything of it because fuck if I care right?” He pauses yet again to put his own joint into his mouth, light it and take his first hit. “I keep goin’. I’m tryna get my rocks off after all. She’s tugging at my hair and shit. She's got this absolute vice grip on my-”

“PLEASE don’t say dick.”

“My waist, you fuckin’ pervert,” And if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black. “Absolutely screaming my name, the neighbors could probably hear.” 

“Paul,” Marko said, turning in his seat on the couch so he could look at his best friend. “This sounds exactly like every other sexcapde you’ve ever told us about.”  As Marko was chastising him, Paul had started to shrug out of his jacket, and that’s when the dark brown splotch on the shoulder of his white shirt came into view. “Is that fucking blood!?” Marko was painfully aware of the way his voice came out almost like a screech.

David’s head actually snapped up at that, tossing his book into his chair and moving to sit on the arm of the sofa in one fluid motion. “Jesus Christ, Paul.” 

Dwayne looked over at the three blondes, his brown eyes gone wide and his brows knitted together in concern.

Paul barked out a laugh, “I'm getting there you dipshits! Also, I’m obviously fine, creature of the night just like you three. Remember?” His companions relaxed slightly, he did have a point after all. However, he now had their full attention. “Where was I? Oh yeah yeah, I’m nailing her and suddenly. The fuckin’ front door opens.” 

David pinches the bridge of his nose.

Marko’s eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. He was pretty sure he knew where this story was going. 

“Oh man!” Dwayne was starting to giggle as he leaned back into his chair.

“It’s her god damn husband,” Pauls talking with his hands now, the way he always does when he starts getting to the good part of his stories. As he gestures, Marko plucks the joint from between his fingers and takes a drag. “Not boyfriend, not fiancé. Husband. He was supposed to be on a business trip or some shit I don’t know. Point is, he was home early and he was pissed.” 

“He walked in on you screwing his wife,” David interjected as he slid his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Of course he’s pissed.” The other three men snickered at his remark.

“Dude starts screaming. At me, at her, oh my god it was madness. I’ve never pulled out so fast in my life.” 

Dwayne chokes on the smoke he had been pulling into his lungs and doubles over, laughing between coughs. “Ya know what,” He says as he rests his cheek against his knee, “For some reason I believe you.”

“He got outta that pussy at warp speed.” Marko giggled quietly. 

“Hey, hey hey!” Paul said as he turned to Marko, taking the last hit off the joint. “It’s my story, I’m the one with the jokes here.”

“Can we please get to why you're bleeding.” David said, gesturing at Paul’s shoulder. 

“Yeah yeah, grouchy bitch.” He drops the roach into the closest ashtray, settling into the couch to finish the rest of his story. “I grab my shit and I’m tryna get outta there. Zero interest in being in the middle of the start of the divorce-”

“Like you’re not the reason for the divorce.”

“Pants on, shoes on, shirt halfway on, jackets in my hand. There was no way in hell I was gonna get between them, so I turned my happy ass around, go to the kitchen. Hopin’ and prayin’ this place has a back door-” Paul’s abruptly cut off by Marko barking out a laugh.

“I’m a back door man!” The smallest blonde belts out, poorly and off key.

“Imma. Back. Door. Man!” Dwayne joins in, tilting his head back with his eyes shut. Like he’s singing to the ceiling of the cave.

David can’t help the little smirk that forms on his face, hearing his friends poorly belting out The Doors’ version of what they had decided was Paul’s song. Paul is currently grinning like a maniac and isn't bothered by yet another interruption of his story. “Okay, okay. Get on with it.” 

“Right yeah, we’re comin’ to the end here. Thank the lord in Heaven, there was in fact a back door. A screen backdoor that slammed behind me, you guys know how fucking loud those things are.” Paul sighs. “I take off, climb the fence, but “Mr. Can’t Satisfy His Wife” comes out behind me, onto the porch. Next thing I know, I hear a gunshot.”

“Sweet Christ.” David mumbles.

“He fucking shot you Paul?” Marko practically growls. Paul looks over at him nonchalantly and nods, smirking ever so slightly at Marko’s protective rage. 

“Dude.” Dwayne says as he adjusts himself in his chair yet again, “You gotta stop sleeping with married women.”

“Not a chance in hell Dwayne-O.” Paul says, his face splitting into a full grin, like he's the cat that got the cream. 

[kopikokun]

(Don't) Tell Me More༄ m.taeil

↳ Taeil's loaded, and that's a severe understatement. So, what on earth is this rich kid doing cleaning pools every Sunday? Looking for love, of course, and a little help with rubbing sunscreen on his back. Ultraviolet protection's a must; it's getting real hot in here.

pairing: (secret rich kid) pool boy!taeil x gn rich kid!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning(s): the suggestive bit is the unaddressed tension, and the one joke about bad porn taeil makes. overall, just the ~vibes~ haha

word count: 2153 words

author's note: i got... carried away. no worries, the starved taeil fans deserve a meal. idk how many years it'll take for the next one. also, please notify me if i accidentally used any gendered language. i’ve checked multiple times, but i’m human, and would sincerely appreciate if you pointed out any of my mistakes or even offered feedback ♡

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: do i wanna know (arctic monkeys) ✧ head over heels (loveleo) ✧ honey (moxie) ✧ dance with me (sir, please) ✧ doubt (hippo campus) ✧ heat waves (glass animals)

← BACK TO NAVI.

Labour isn’t Taeil’s forte. Born with a gold spoon between his lips, and six digits in his bank account at five, he’s lived a life beyond lavish.

Fridays are reserved for piano lessons and tennis, Saturdays for buttering up his father’s potential clients in country clubs, and Sundays for swimming in the five meter deep pool in his backyard. Well, at least, Sundays used to be.

Taeil’s plenty passionate about swimming–freestyle, backstroke, butterfly–but about cleaning swimming pools? Not so much.

So, why is he spending every Sunday afternoon sweaty, swathed in sunscreen, and despairing over chemical imbalances? The answer is simple, and lazing on a deck chair at this very moment: you.

You’re new–courtesy of the raise in your father’s already outrageous salary–and when Taeil first lay his eyes upon you at the park, he was enamoured. He’d actually tripped on a root in his trance, and you’d crouched beside him to ask whether he was alright. Humiliated, he’d silently hobbled after as you lead him to a bench. You’d nursed the wound he hadn’t realised he’d sustained as best you could: rinsing and dabbing it dry.

“I’ll walk you home,” he’d said. “A token of appreciation, if you will.”

You’d accepted his token. The walk wasn’t far, but it was likely because you made for such good company. Taeil would be engrossed even if you droned on about cheese for an hour, which coincidentally, is exactly what Mr. Liu’s monologue had entailed the month before. That conversation had bored him half to death however.

It felt too quick; your estate was already looming over him, auguring the end of your encounter when he’d finally recovered from his ignominy. Desperate for more, Taeil had blurted out the first thing in sight: your pool. That’s why you’d mentioned your dad needing a pool cleaner every weekend, and how, despite being clueless in the department, Taeil had wholeheartedly offered himself. You’d been elated, beaming, over the moon. How could he say no?

It had seemed appealing in the moment, but his train of thought had been superficial. Turns out, those mass-produced specially-targeted summer chick-flicks were lying! Who would’ve guessed? Pool boying was not just flaunting your washboard abs and bulging biceps as you netted a few leaves. Oh no. The first few test cleans Taeil had done with his pool… well, it became off limits for a week. And an actual expert had to be hired. Those gritty aspects aren’t the most marketable, or inherently sexy, so Taeil supposes the chick-flick deceits are partially excused.

But back to what matters: you. Your–how should he put it?–spunk, hadn’t been anticipated. Not an ounce of that pretentious reticence the local wealthy feel entitled to prevails in you. It’s refreshing. You’re adrenaline personified. Just your presence has Taeil’s heart palpitating. Since he’d been hired, every week has been more fleeting glances, yearning touches, puckish banter. And last week… well, there’s no time for that, because now you’re beckoning him over, your hand wrapped around a tube of sunscreen. Taeil prances to you, complaisant.

“Sit,” you urge, dragging a wicker stool in front of you. “You’re done for today, right?”

“Yeah, water didn’t need treatment this week. Just skimmed the surface for debris.” Taeil hesitates. He feels awkward after last week, when he’d kissed you. Yes, kissed you. You haven’t said a word about it since, and there’s no way in hell he’s doing it first. “But, it’s okay. I’m gonna go soon.”

“Aww, please, Taeil? Sit?” You pat the chair and smile, eyelashes glinting in the sun. That’s all it takes for Taeil to succumb, the rattan crackling beneath his weight. Your fingers graze his arm. “It’s a hot day, huh? A swim would be nice.”

His eyebrows crease. "Sorry, were you waiting?"

“No, no, it’s fine.” You tilt your head. “But…”

“What?”

“Do you want to go swimming with me?”

Taeil fists the material of his swim shorts, spine erect. The fabric crinkles. Whether he wants to what? “Oh, uh, well, I don’t wanna intrude. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy about me swimming in their pool.”

The heat of your body seeps into his skin as your arms coil around his. “They don’t mind, and if they did, they’re not home to say so.”

This feels like the start of a trashy porn. Taeil flushes. “Oh.”

“So? What do you say?”

His adam’s apple buoys. “Sure. Wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Exactly.” The sunscreen’s cap clacks open. “Here, you gotta reapply more.” Taeil extends his palm, and you squeeze some into it.

He deliberates his next move. It’s difficult to think when you’re gazing at him like that, lashes batting and lips curled into a demure smile. “You don’t mind if I”–he rubs his nape with a free hand–“uh, take off my shirt, right? I don’t wanna dirty your pool.”

“Sure! I definitely wouldn’t mind, so long as you’re okay with it.” You tuck your knees to your chest. “Why? Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” Taeil’s going to pass out, he’s betting money on it.

He doesn’t, but he does glow incandescent when he strips himself of his clammy shirt. The humid air only exacerbates his feverish blush.

Growing up, Taeil’s parents always emphasised presentability, and he’s nothing if not presentable. He’s proud of his physique, diligently maintaining it with rigorous exercise, and sure, he’s had a few self-conscious blips, but they’re transient. Taeil knows he’s attractive, yet under your keen eye, he rubs sunscreen–on his neck, chest, and abdomen–hunched forward.

“Do you need help?” You peer over his shoulder, wagging the aquamarine bottle like bait. “With your back. You know, for the spots you can’t reach?”

You’ll be the death of him. You’re going to kill him, but he honestly wouldn’t mind that. Taeil’s never had any ‘spots he can’t reach’, but, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Your fingers are ridiculously delicate, like you’re weaving gossamer across his back–sunscreen webs, if that’s a thing. Taeil’s sure someone would pay grotesquely for that. Mr. Liu would.

Neither of you speak, only the sound of skin against skin drifting alongside the scent of coconut oil and cocoa butter. At one point, your nails unintentionally trail his back, and Taeil shivers.

His body tingles with the vestige of your touch, and when he assumes you’re done, you stun him with a good, hard, satisfying squeeze to his shoulders; the ones twined rigid from graft. Taeil actually groans in relief, which had probably stunned you. Or maybe that’s what you were hoping for.

Internally, he’s broiling in mortification, but externally, his shoulders slacken, his head hangs forward, and his exhales are long and grateful. It’s embarrassing. For crying out loud, he has his own professional masseuse, yet when it’s you doing it–yeah, he needn’t elaborate further. He’s gushed about you enough.

“Feels nice, right?”

“God, yeah, it feels”–a particularly forceful squeeze elicits another groan from him–“good. Do you have any experience? You’re amazing at this.”

“Just my dad. When I was younger he used to pay me to massage his shoulders after work,” you say, fingers miraculously knowing exactly which muscle to knead at what intensity. Is this what heaven feels like? “Well, there was also the massage course I signed up for a few years ago.”

“Well”–another sigh–“it definitely paid off.”

“It better have, given how pricey it was.” Your lilt is roguish, and it sounds like you’re enjoying this as much as Taeil is.

He wants to die like this, but you’re already standing, and stretching your arms overhead before he can really soak the sensation in.

“Let’s go for that swim, huh?”

“Uh,” Taeil blinks, dazed, “yeah.”

He trails after you, facing away when you lower yourself into the water without qualms. Duh, it’s your pool. Why would you have scruples about swimming in your pool? Taeil, on the other hand, dithers, because it’s not his pool, and he can’t help but fret that your parents could walk in on you swimming with the pool boy.

“Hurry up! A little water’s not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he says, staring pointedly at you. He’s never felt so vehemently for someone before, and you’re so… unpredictable. It’s invigorating. It’s terrifying. Do you like him, or are you just bored?

He ventures as far as sitting on the edge of the pool’s deck, where water kisses concrete. His legs dangle, acclimating to both the temperature, and the reality that he really is about to jump into his employer’s pool. The water is cold, caressing his leg as you wade closer to stand between his knees. Your eyes sweep over him. Taeil’s stomach coils. He hopes you like what you see.

“You okay?” you ask, hand over his right knee. It’s freezing. “You look a little flushed.”

Your hand crawls further up his leg. “Yeah,” he scoffs, “I wonder why.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” you grin, upturning your palms and offering them to him. “Come on.”

Taeil should’ve thought your motives through, but how could he have denied your invitation? He’s still a guy, and well, it’s you. Regardless, he should’ve scrounged up some semblance of prudence because it was blatant what you’d needed his hands for. To pull him under. Literally.

The tug is harsh and efficient, jolting him forward into the polar depths before he can object. Taeil’s not thinking straight–the stark contrast in temperatures pummel his rationality–so he grabs the closest thing he can: you. It’s reckless of him, given the two of you are in the deep end and he could drown you. But risks evade his psyche as he loops his arms around your waist, your body pressing into his. Fortunately, he won’t be facing charges anytime soon because you do resurface, still in his arms, and strangely, you’re not pissed, you’re laughing. Laughing so hard your head’s thrown back, and your body trembles. It’s not funny–you could’ve died for God’s sake–but Taeil feels a rumble course through him; a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh. Now, he’s laughing too, though there’s nothing funny about this. He’s laughing because you’re laughing, and that’s enough of a reason for him.

“Are you okay?” you finally say, titters dissolving into a faint smile. “That was mean of me, sorry.”

Your face is inches from his, so Taeil’s voice shrinks. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I grabbed onto you though. And, oh, uh”–he starts loosening his grip of you–“sorry I–”

"No, wait.” This time, it’s your arms curling around him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind this. It feels… nice.”

“Yeah… it - it does.”

The water laps at his sternum, and Taeil takes his chances by nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You let him, though neither of you know each other enough for this kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why he’s so enthralled by you. Hell, you don’t even know he’s the son of some rich socialite. To you, he’s just the pool boy. Maybe that’s why you’re playing along with him. Because there’s something exhilarating about chasing something you shouldn’t when you’ve never had to run before. Because there’s a thrill in pain when you’re unscathed. Because when you’re someone like you and Taeil, mistakes can be afforded. Anyway, what does Taeil know of pain? In fact, what does he know of you to think this? It isn’t like he knows what your intentions are with him. You’re unpredictable. That’s your whole schtick. It’s funny, because Taeil knows your pool’s pH levels better than you.

Your fingers scrape into his sopping hair.

Or maybe he likes you for you. Maybe he likes what little of you he does know. So, does he want to know more?

“What do you think of me?” he murmurs against your skin.

“You’re fun.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, then, what do you think of me?”

Taeil lifts his head from your shoulder, the strength of his embrace withering. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”

You grin. “See? It’s hard to put into words, right?”

“I guess,” he smiles. You make it sound nice that you don’t know him. You make it sound like there’s just too much that you can’t express it. Maybe that’s what’s happening right now. Maybe there’s just too much Taeil likes about you to comprehend, so he thinks there’s nothing he really likes about you at all.

“You’re funny, Taeil.”

He isn’t. “Thanks.”

Taeil’s unsure how much time passes; long enough that the water’s gone tepid at least.

“Do you… like me?” he asks. Maybe if he hears you say yes, he’ll know what all the things he adores about you are.

There’s a pause.

“You’re fun, right?” you ask, thumbing a rivulet from his cheek.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I am.”

“Then, yes.” Your lips brush his. “I like you, Taeil.”

[tefilovesreading]

Karaoke nights - Owen Joyner x reader

Pairing: Owen Joyner x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,3k

Warning: mention of alcohol, couple swearing words and a bunch of fluff, ‘cause I love a fluffy story.

A/N: This is my first Owen fic, so I hope you like it. Also, let me know if I should make a taglist. Thanks for the pic @tewksburysmischief​

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland​

MASTERLIST 

The humid summer night in Toronto made Owen readjust his shirt, feeling how the fabric was sticking to his skin, but he couldn’t complain. After all, the temperature finally cooled down when the evening came, giving the couple a much-needed break from the heat.

“Are you okay, baby?” Y/N asked when she noticed his boyfriend run his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture.

“Yeah, I’m just getting all sweaty,” he answered reassuring his girlfriend, “did Charlie send you the address?”

“He did, we’re a few blocks away.” The girl showed him the map on her phone screen and Owen nodded, locking just their pinkies, so their hands wouldn’t get sweaty as they walked to their destination.

“Where are we going anyway?” Owen asked again, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Charlie said it was one of his best mates’ place,” she commented swinging their hands to ease the blonde guy, “I’m sure we’re gonna have a good time, and if we’re not, when can always leave.”

“You’re right,” Owen sighed and leaned to kiss his girlfriend’s forehead.

“I’m always right, Joyner” Y/N bragged, sticking her tongue out to mess with Owen.

“Don’t get too cocky, babe,” he warned with a smirk, “you might regret it later.”

Charlie welcomed the couple inside and introduced them to the rest of the group, too many names Y/N couldn’t remember. 

“You guys want something to drink? A beer?” Charlie questioned pointing to the kitchen.

“I’m not sure if we should-” his friend interrupted him quickly.

“If you want a beer it’s okay, you know you can drink here,” Y/N saw her boyfriend nod slowly at his friend’s words, probably remembering that the legal age for drinking here was 19 and not 21.

“I’ll have a beer,” she said.

“Save the beer for later!” One of Charlie’s friends chirped, putting his arm over his shoulders, “we’re doing shots first, guys.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in shock, but when she turned to see her boyfriend, he winked at her and whispered: “You’re done.”

What was supposed to be one shot of vodka, turned into three, probably four if Owen hadn’t spilled his before the glass could touch his lips.

“Owen is wasted!” Charlie sang with a laugh, “and here we thought little Y/N was gonna be the drunkest out of you two.”

“Oh c’mon!” she huffed and raised her glass, “you need to have a little more faith in me, Gillespie.”

“It’s not fair, she’s been drinking water,” Owen whined and filled his glass again with the clear liquid. 

“You gotta stay hydrated, baby,” she winked at him and threw her head back, letting the alcohol make its way down with a slight burn on her throat. 

“So guys,” the guy she vaguely remembered introducing himself as Nathan, started saying, “we have a little tradition.”

“If you tell me I have to do one more I don’t think I’m gonna be standing for much longer, mate,” Owen deadpanned, making the group laugh.

“Don’t worry, Owen, you don’t have to drink” Charlie patted his best friend’s shoulder and smirked, “but you do have to sing.”

Nathan handed him a mic and asked him what song he wanted to sing. To her surprise, instead of choosing a song from one of his favorite Broadway shows like he always did, he went with a Justin Timberlake classic.

“I’m bringing sexy back,” he sang getting into character so naturally, she knew his boyfriend was born to be a star, “them other boy don’t know how to act,” Charlie faked a gasp when Owen pointed at him as he sang the next verse.

Owen loved to see the bright smile on Y/N’s face as he sang and danced, making sure to give the people a good show, but most important, one that’d make his lovely girlfriend put a lot more effort into her show. 

“You see these shackles baby I’m your slave,” the blonde boy made sure to sing that line directly to Y/n’s face, loving the way she looked around all flustered and embarrassed.

“Take it to the chorus,” Charlie joined him, helping out his best friend with the background vocals. They were a complete mess together, and anyone could see it when they started singing the chorus together.

“Okay, that was one hell of a good show, guys,” Nathan said and turned to Y/N, “but I’m afraid we have to move to our next competitor, miss Y/N!”

“You said it was a tradition, not a competition,” Y/N accused him but received the mic he was holding out for her.

“It’s a traditional competition.”

Owen kissed her cheek when she passed him and grazed her hand. “I already won, babe,” he whispered. 

Unlike Owen and Charlie, she wasn’t the type of person to put on a show, sure she liked having fun, but he knew she’ll be embarrassed even if she did great. And he smiled when he heard her song choice. It was a bold choice.

The girl singing in front of him, with so much confidence and not a care in the world, was a view he wished to remember his entire life. And when she reached the chorus, he knew he was done, he knew he was head over heels for her. 

“Yeah you make me feel like, I’ve been locked out of heaven, for too long,” Y/N sang softly sitting on his lap, “for too long.” she finished, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“That was perfect, babe,” Owen kissed her cheek and felt the heat on her cheeks.

“As much as I love Bruno Mars, we gotta give this round to Owen,” Nathan announced, and she shook her head in disappointment.  

“I told ya,” Owen bragged, leaving a sweet kiss on her cheek, “you had fun, didn’t you?”

She turned her head to focus her attention on her boyfriend and nodded, his eyes were glossy due to the alcohol in his blood, and she was sure hers were just the same. 

“I did, baby,” Y/N said with a grin, “now let’s go and have fun.”

They spent the night laughing and playing random games with their new friends, enjoying the last night they were spending in Canada before going back to Oklahoma. Owen smiled softly at the girl leaning on his shoulder.

“I think it’s time for us to go back to our hotel,” he mentioned, getting up to say goodbye. He held a hand out for Y/N, and she took it gladly.

“Thanks for having us, guys,” the girl smiled politely at the group, “I really had a great night.”

“Thanks for coming,” one of the girls in the group told her with a beaming smile, “if you ever come back, let me know, so we can hang out.”

“Sure, I’d invite you to Oklahoma, but there’s not much to do,” she admitted scrunching her nose just a little. 

Y/N threw herself in bed with an exhausted sigh. Owen helped her take off her shoes and joined her. She wasn’t even drunk now, but she felt so tired she couldn’t keep both of her eyes open at the same time. 

“Shit, I don’t wanna move,” she mumbled, burying her face into her boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, me neither,” he wrapped his arms around Y/N and pulled her closer to his body. “Did I tell you I love you?”

“Every day, baby,” she smiled with her eyes closed, “I love you too.”

“No, but I realized I’m seriously in love with you,” Y/N propped herself up, resting her chin in his chest, and smiled at his words, “when you were singing I couldn’t help but think how fucking lucky I am.”

“You’re the best, Owen,” she admitted, “I feel the same about you, but can’t we talk about this in the morning? I’m fucking tired right now.”

He laughed at her sincerity and nodded in agreement. With a last kiss on Y/N’s forehead, he pulled her closer and closed his eyes, ready to sleep. If having to sleep with his jeans on meant he could sleep holding his girlfriend, he’d do it every time he could.

“I really miss my Bindi,” he confessed in a whisper.

“I miss her too, now go to sleep.”