#angel has TWO (three?) songs about how miserable he is and I am here making a third on my head

[princessfroslass]

I rewatched Six the Musical for the 30th time and because hyperfixation is hyperfixatin' I just was hit with a banger imaginary Animatic with All You wanna Do:

After getting free from Valentino, Angel starts making shows around- y'know just slaying and having fun. One night he starts to rant about his shitty love life in song form and it's all fun and games until he arrives in Val and everything just goes to shit and the gossiping turn onto the most cunty trauma-dumping you'll ever see in your life- then because of the deep fucking trauma he makes the (wrongly, very wrongly) connection with Husk and their developing friendship/catching feelings thing and it's just an full blow breakdown because omg the cycle is about to re-start (of you heard the song you'd know what part I am talking about).

[ceruleanchillin]

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

A:

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

C:

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

E:

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

[baroquebucky]

don’t

in which bucky quickly learns that communication is key for a good relationship

word count: 1.7k

angst w a fluffy ending <33

masterlist

a/n: hehe inspired by this song !! go stream it i love it sm namjoon always has the best lyrics eek !! hope u all enjoy <3 lyrics in bold !

You looked at bucky as he walked in, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. His fist was bruised and bloodied. You sat on your shared bed, eyes heavy as you leaned against the headboard. It was the first time he’d come home in three days.

“james” you spoke, looking at your boyfriend as he ignored you. “james” you called out once more, sighing as he continued to get his clothes from the drawer and walk wordlessly into the restroom.

“bucky!” You raised your voice, he stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. Before you could get a word out he stopped you.

“don’t talk” he stated, setting his clothes on the counter and running his hands through his hair and sighing, “not yet, i know what you’re about to say” he mumbled. Your mouth hung open in shock before you shook your head.

“bucky look at me, don’t avoid my eyes” you spoke sternly, getting up from the bed and walking in front of him. His blue eyes gazed into yours, he could see how worried you were.

“you have to talk to me bucky, it’s been three days already and you didn’t tell me anything” you told him gently, knowing how stubborn he was.

Bucky had a horrible nightmare, tears on his face as he woke up, you were shaking him awake gently and he accidentally hit you with his metal arm, making your nose bleed. A look of horror on his face as he realized what he had done, as you ran to the restroom bucky packed a bag quickly, leaving to go stay at the compound for the time being. He ignored your texts and calls, too afraid to see what you were saying to him.

It was almost 3 am and he hoped you would be asleep by the time he returned so he could get more clothes before leaving again. You weren’t.

“i can’t hurt you again, i have to go i need to leave, i have to go home” he spoke, pain evident in his eyes as he avoided your gaze.

“our home is here james” you whispered, moving to slowly take his hands in yours, “it’s us.” He flinched away when you grabbed his metal arm, taking a couple steps back.

“I have to go shower” he mumbled, grabbing his clothes and locking the restroom door, tears stinging his eyes as he turned the shower on, letting the hot water relax his stiff muscles.

You wiped away the stray tears on your face, texting sam and asking him for any advice. You held back sobs as you explained to him what had happened and how bucky had been acting.

we’ve been through so much worse, this can be the end of us, surely he’ll come around ??

Sam replied quickly, assuring you bucky just needed some time, but you should be sure he knew how you felt considering how he tended to get into his head all the time.

You thanked him quickly, telling him goodnight and assuring him you would tell him if you needed anything.

You tried to stay awake, but you were so exhausted, your eyelids heavy as you waited for bucky to get out of the shower.

Sighing you laid down, scooting closer to his side of the bed, it still smelled like him and helped you relax.

The sound of keys made your eyes jolt open, you shot up when you saw bucky heading towards the door.

“don’t leave, i need you here, please don’t” you whispered, eyes watering and your chin quivered. Bucky hesitated, he told himself he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as you anymore, he was too scared of hurting you.

All it took was one look at you for all his resolve to fade away. You were wearing his black t shirt, your eyes were red and nose pink, your hair was messy and he knew it was tangled.

He set his bag down and closed the bedroom door, taking off his shirt and pants and slipping into bed next to you, pulling him into his arms and holding you tightly.

“bucky” you mumbled, eyes still wide open as he held you. He frowned, heart falling as you used the nickname.

“what happened to calling me james?” He asked, voice small as he spoke.

“thought since you were mad you wouldn’t want me callin you that” you replied, fiddling with his dog tags quietly. Buckys heart sank, you thought he was mad at you?

“don’t take away the name only you know doll, you’re the only one who calls me that, nothing is gonna take that away” he spoke, “you’re the only one who knows me as James, not as bucky or the winter soldier, but as myself.”

You looked at him, eyes soft as he talked, running his fingers through your hair and gently detangling it. He continued his actions as he spoke up again.

“I’m not mad at you doll, I’m mad at myself for hurting you” he confessed, panic settling in. “I thought if i stayed i would hurt you, i don’t want you hurting because of me so i left” he looked at you, waiting for you to tell him he did the right thing, that he should pack his things and go.

“i wish i could just magically fix who i am” he whispered.

“oh angel,” you breathed out, moving so you were both sitting with your backs against the headboard. “I don’t need magic, just be here james, here with me.”

“but what if i hurt you again, what if i ruin everything and you hate me” bucky looked at you, tears rolling down his cheeks and you gave him a soft smile. Your hands caressing his cheek as you wiped away his tears with your thumbs.

“don’t abandon everything over on mistake james, don’t destroy us and everything we’ve worked for just because you made one tiny mistake.” You replied, looking at him before placing your hands back in your lap.

“please james, i know it’s not over yet, we just have to try” you spoke, letting out a soft sigh. “but if you want to, if you feel it’s what’s best for you, then go.” Your voice was shaky and you held back a sob.

Buckys heart fell. You thought he wanted to break up, to leave you. He felt like shit for making you think that’s what he wanted, it was so far from the truth.

“oh doll, i don’t want to” he replied, moving to face you, taking your hands in his and holding them tightly. “I want to wake up next to you and see your smile in the mornings, i want to hold you while we sleep and when we watch movies too late and eat too much popcorn” bucky continued talking, a smile on his face a he spoke.

You laughed a little bit, sniffling softly and slipping a hand out of his to wipe your tears.

“I’m sorry for acting so stupid, I’m realizing now i went about it all wrong and I’m sorry doll” he spoke, wiping away your tears and getting up to get you some tissues. You took them and thanked him softly, blowing your nose before he started talking again.

“i should’ve talked to you and let you know how i feel, instead i jumped to all these conclusions and just assumed how you would feel and-” he sighed as he cut himself off, looking at you before talking again.

“I’m really sorry darling, i hope you can forgive me” bucky spoke softly, you took his hand in yours, squeezing softly and smiling.

“i know how hard it is for you to talk about how you feel james, but if this is going to work you need to be willing to try” your voice was gentle, “i was worried sick these last few days, you didn’t even tell me if you were okay or if you were even alive” you spoke, bucky felt guilt tugging at his heart.

“from here on out, if something is bothering you or if you’re scared or worried about something i want you to tell me, so that we can talk through it and find a way to help” you suggested, a smile on your face as he nodded quietly.

“can i say something?” Bucky mumbled and you nodded, laughing softly. “is it okay- i mean you don’t have to i just” he stopped for a second, thinking before finally putting the words together.

“i would like it if you reassured me that you still care about me, i hope that’s not too much” he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your eyes. You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tightly.

“that’s not too much lover boy, I’ll be sure to tell you more often” you replied.

Bucky relaxed at your touch, exhausting settling into his body. He yawned and you smiled at him, pulling his softly so that he would lay down.

“i love you so much” you whispered, bucky smiled at you, kissing your forehead softly.

“i love you so much more” he whispered back, his heart felt lighter knowing you weren’t upset with him, that you still loved him just as much.

You felt safer and happier now that bucky was back home with you. You reveled in the way he held you tightly against him, the way he would draw circles with his thumb on your arm to relax you.

The two of you fell asleep not long after, happier and getting more sleep than you had gotten in the last three days.

Bucky was grateful for how patient and understanding you were. He promised himself he would be better at communicating, never again would he hurt you simply because he couldn’t say what he felt.

He kept true to his promise, he was much better at talking of his emotions, even opening up to you about the content of his nightmares.

You kept true to yours, showering him in compliments almost everyday, telling him how much he meant to you and how much you loved him. You enjoyed seeing the way he would blush, his ears going red and cheeks dusted with pink.

Bucky was glad he stayed that night, you were glad he listened to you. He knows if he hadn’t then he would be miserable right now, and he would most definitely not be in the arms of the love of his life, watching your favorite show and eating way too much popcorn for 2:47 am.

[binniesthighs]

telepatía | reader x binsung

a/n: hi cuties! hope ya’ll are are staying seggsy and cozy! ;) this piece is 100% self indulgent (hehe) as well as my first time writing a poly r/ship! since i’m new at it, any and all feedback is super super appreciated!! <3 

telepatía | changbin x reader x jisung 

~aka, my love note to binsung~ 

Pairing: self insert, seo changbin x female reader x han jisung 

Genre: fluff n’ smut 

Tags: poly relationship, long distance r/ship au, established r/ship au, inspired by a song au, comfort fic, lil bit emotional but that’s bc they are in looove, idiots in love, softdom!binnie, hardswitch!reader, softsub!jisung, mentions of food, explicit language, masturbation (f), dirrrrty talking, hehe soft love makin’, lowkey size and corruption kink, unprotected sex, oral (m&f), face sitting, penetration (piv and anal), double penetration (f), nipple play (m&f), fingering (f), squirting, marking, multiple orgasms, creampie, ahhh soft n’ intimate body touching, cockwarming, shower aftercare, i am so sorry i got sooooo carried away teehee 

Word count: 7.9k 

Recommended listening: telepatía by kali uchis 

Two months. Two months that had felt like eternity. 

Your pen tapped at the table to your desk as you watched the minutes pass by. To your right, your desk calendar with your little countdown smiled at you with the little doodles had drawn along with the stickers that you had decorated there. 

Five more days! 

The golden hour of the day passed by outside your window upon the city that you had been calling home for the past two months. It was gorgeous. Unreal even. Studying abroad had been harder than you had expected--although it was often exciting at other times too. There was not a day that passed when you had regretting doing it, but there were other days when you had wished you could just transport yourself right back home; even if it meant it would be for only a couple hours of so. 

During nights like these, your cramped little studio felt even more empty than usual. The colors of gold and pink would smear in the skyline along with pale pink clouds that looked softer and lusher than anything else in the world. In the springtime, the budding and green trees lined the outside of the apartment complex and birds twittering past would flutter their wings outside of your window cracked open slightly. As the days went by, the air warmed and became more humid, and smelled of luxurious primrose and hyacinths. 

Your room was dimly lit by your desk lamp, and you hadn’t bothered to turn on any other light. Pages wrinkled, and your sense of loneliness came creeping in like the cold winter that the new season had now just chased away. You didn’t want the feeling to linger, but you couldn’t help but let it. 

The sheets of your bed were cozy, much like the rest of the way that you had decorated your studio. The cream colored covers felt like silk on your legs, but where nothing compared to the touch that you craved. 

Your phone clicked on with it’s blue-white light, showing your screensaver: a beautiful sunset image of that last walk that you had taken of the two of them before you had left. 

If it were possible, you imagined that missing one person was enough to shatter a heart, but two people? 

You hugged your phone to your chest, feigning some semblance of a hug to the two of them. Your nose sniffled as it grew more stuffed, and you let your suppressed sobs fill up the space of the room. 

You were convinced that you must've been the the luckiest or the unluckiest person in the whole world: two loves of your life, two people to share it all with had been like a dream come true. It was finally something that felt like it made sense. But, to be so closely tied to two people, meant that being away from them hurt two times as much. 

You imagined them with you in your room: they loved to sandwich you in the middle of them. This was their favorite place to have you. Nothing had been warmer and safer than that. Arms and legs would be all tied together in a way that made little sense, and both of their quiet breathing would tickle at the skin of the back of your neck and your forehead. If there was anything that you had guessed you missed most, it would be falling asleep with them. “I love you’s” would be whispered, and all space between you dissapear once the down comforter would be pulled to your noses. 

No matter how hard you pretended that they were there, it was never the same. 

[it takes three to make a thing go right] binnie, sungie, me 

binnie: have you had dinner yet? please don’t forget! 

jisung: [see image] this is what we’re having for breakfast! we wish you were here with us! 

With shaking fingers you opened the picture to view Jisung’s attempts at cooking. He had been getting into it these days. You had almost wished sometimes that you had been there to try whatever he had concocted--even if it didn’t taste the best. Today it looked like he had tried to make fluffy pancakes with strawberries and cream...but they didn’t end up as fluffy as they should’ve been. Changbin was in the background of the picture making a couple finger hearts. Undoubtedly Jisung had asked him to do it for the picture: Changbin was more of the no-nonsense and stoic type with somewhat of a goofy edge. You and Jisung always knew how to make him melt. “You two are my weaknesses you know?” 

sungie: don’t stay up too late either! finish strong before you come back, okay? 

binnie: we really can’t wait to see you, five days can’t come soon enough. 

You sniffled, sitting up. Had they been there then, they wouldn’t have liked to see you cry. Although your heart stung with a sharp pain seeing them so happy together, you brought yourself back together. You knew exactly how it would’ve been: Jisung would dry your tears gently, then cuddle right up under your arm to nuzzle into your shoulder. Behind the both of you, Changbin would spread his arms wide so both of you could be wrapped up in him. 

me: i really miss you both. i miss you so, so much. i can’t wait to see you on Friday. don’t have too much fun without me until then :) 

binnie: you kidding? we’re miserable without you!! i think that we’re both going crazy. 

sungie: he’s right!! it feels so weird, it always has been these past months. 

we’re not complete without you, y/n. we miss you too sooooo much. 

and you know that bin gets crabby sometimes. when it’s just me around... 

bin: hey! the hell you mean crabby?! i’m a frickin angel!!! 

The way that you could read each of their messages in their voices brought you comfort, and you giggled a little reading the words. 

sungie: relax! i’m just trying to make her laugh. did i succeed?

me: you did sungie. :) 

bin: you forget that i’m sitting right next to you sung, you’re playing a risky game. 

sungie: ooooh he talks such big talk, are you seeing this y/n? do you see what i mean? plz come back and save me!!! 

bin: HEY 

me: binnnnn go easy on sungie. 

bin: i do!!! 

i only go rough when he asks me too ;) 

sungie: w o w 

While it did make you laugh, it still hurt a little thinking about how even with you missing, their lives still went on, they ate meals together, went to concerts, movies, out to eat, and, at the end of the day, they still had eachother to cuddle up with to sleep. It hurt even more thinking about how they still had eachother to satisfy other comforts. Of course, you were still involved over the phone and video calls too, but with thousands of miles of distance, your hands alone could never feel as mind-blowing as theirs. 

binnie: there will be plenty of that when you get back too y/n ;) sung has maybe had it too easy. 

me: hmm too easy? 

Jisung send a series of emoji stickers that all conveyed about the same message: oh my god i’m in trouble. 

binnie: anyway, jokes aside, we are really looking forward to friday. sungie and i have been talking about it and we think we just want to spend the night in if that’s okay with you? you’ll be tired too. 

As always, your boyfriends were the most considerate people in likely the whole world. You didn’t really want to be anywhere else, but just with the two of them; as close as you possibly could be. 

me: that sounds perfect. <3 

sungie: get some rest tonight!! in the morning get yourself something nice for breakfast, i can send you some money hehe 

binnie: boyfriend of the year award over here ! ! 

sungie: hey, we’re both boyfriend of the year! duh, she loves us the same??? 

me: that’s very true. 

binnie: pffff

sungie: don’t make me tackle you seo changbin, i am sitting right next to you

binnie: is that a promise? 

me: boys, boys stop fighting, you’re both boyfriend of the year. 

binnie: see? y/n, we’re a mess without you. 

sungie: changbin, you’re my boyfriend of the year too. does that make you feel better? 

binnie: maybe. 

sungie: we’re keeping y/n from getting dinner. we should shut up now. 

anyhoo! 

we love and miss you a lot a lot. take care until friday! we’re almost there!!!! 

binnie: BUT I LOVE HER MORE 

sungie: bin, i love you, but please, shut up. 

binnie: i’m joking!! sungie i’m joking. this is an equal relationship obviously. 

By now, their usual antics had left your tearstained face dry, and the corners of your mouth sore from how hard you had smiled. 

binnie: see you soon! goodnight y/n! 

sungie: night y/n <3 

You clicked your phone closed, then let your weight drop down to your pillow that held the smell of the evening air. 

“It’ll be sooner than you think.” You sighed. 

It was much too nice of a night to be doing homework, so you decided to push it off for just a couple more hours, flicking on your dinky TV set to a local station where they spoke in the language that you had been teaching to yourself for the past couple months. Here and there you could recognize a few words, but you mostly liked it for the noise. 

You pulled your thin sheet over your bare legs, merely enjoying the simplicity of the feeling over your whole body. 

there will be plenty of that when you get back home too. 

we love and miss you a lot a lot. 

Two months for imagining...and you had learned to hone your skill especially, even if it didn’t feel the same. Even though missing them hurt, you could still feel the love from them from thousands of miles away. They had said themselves that they didn’t feel complete without you. 

The silky feeling sheets tickled at the hairs on your arms as your hand teased down your stomach, then toyed with the elastic of your panties under cotton shorts. You blamed it on the night being especially pleasant, or maybe it was just what you and needed at that moment. 

You wondered how much they had missed you, if they thought of you when their hands would run over each other, or perhaps even if they would imagine that you were there with them when they hold each other close, tiny gaps and moans stick on their lips while they would pleasure each other too. You in fact had thought of them: Jisung’s pretty moans and the way that Changbin liked to suck little bites into his neck. 

That spring air hushed into your window with the softness of a song, and curious fingers dipped into your folds and twitching bud which was wet to the touch. Your body jolted at the feeling of your fingers on your suddenly needy clit. Your mind ran wild thinking of the way that both of them had looked beside you, one of their hands dipping under the fabric of your panties and the other lightly twisting at your nipples too. Absentmindedly, your own hand reached to mimic the action on your breast while you remembered. Careful kisses would be pressed into your cheek and neck while they whispered adoring little praises in your ears. 

“You’re so beautiful baby, like nothing else.” 

“We love you so much. My princess, such a good girl for me, hm? You like how our hands look on you?” 

Your body shivered at the memory, and you rubbed circles into your clit, gathering your own sticky slick to rub over the sensitive bud. 

“Yes,” You whispered to the empty room. 

The golden setting sun reflected fractals of tiny rainbows into your room--just as your prism had done hanging in the window back at home. It would reflect on the stucco walls, and the colors would streak on the ceiling. You would catch sight of them laying tangled up in scattered sheets with both of their bodies prowling over you in bare skin. You could trace the curves of their shoulder blades like the edge of perfectly crested waves. A faraway warmth swelled over your body, and you rubbed harshly at your bud craving more and and more. Your legs squirmed under the sheets: much like they would when they would bow their heads to tease at your clit with interweaving tongues, sandwiched between your thighs which they would pull back with starving fingertips. You could almost hear it: the way that your slick would drip over your pussy, and how they would taste it too on each others lips in between. 

Your back arched recalling their praise. They would pull you between them once again, and fill your mouth with adoring kisses covered with multitudes of their love. Jisung would mewl little whines into your mouth, shaking from your hand wrapped around his cock, and Changbin kissed you like you were his reason for breathing: slow, languid, purposeful. He’d sigh out watching the way that you marked up Jisung’s body while pumping himself all the while. 

“Binnie. Sungie.” Their names became your anchor while your rubbed wider, then slower, then faster. Your soaked fingers plunged into your pussy while your head danced with the memories of them filling you up, rolling their hips in as deeply as thye could, kissing into your chest or the crook of your neck. You curved your fingers to tease at your g-spot, but your clit was even more impatient. 

“Do you want to cum for us princess?” 

“I’ll cum for you...” Your breath hitched in that room all by yourself. 

Your fingers wiggled back up to your clit, now hypersensitive from its lack of attention. Instantly, your orgasm built violently behind the twitching bud, and you threw your free arm back to grip into your pillow to steady yourself. Sweat had gathered on the underside of your thighs and on your back: it was a feeling so dirty that it only made your head feel lighter. It was as if they were in the room with you and you could see them clearly: enamored eyes dipped in lust that ate up your form until there was nothing left. 

“C-close.” You shuddered, now with pruned fingers encircling until you drew yourself right to the brink.

You came with a forceful heat that swept over your whole body and sent your hips jerking up into the air and toes digging into the bed. Your incisors bit harshly at your lip, and you stifled your unsteady and high pitched moans the best you possibly could. In your apartment complex, the walls were thin enough for there to be little left to the imagination. 

Your chest shook as you came down and you teased your bud, edging on overstimulation for as long as you could take it. Jisung had liked the way that you would convulse like this and Changbin would relentlessly give little slaps to your aching bud. Once you could take no more, you drew your hand back from the elastic, then you let the euphoria sweep over your body for a few moments of silence and tranquility. 

Yes, you had done it to yourself, but without their help, there was no way that you could’ve shown your body the same kind of fervent love. 

It was as if they could make love to you telepathically, even on this night when the sun was setting, and your bed was empty. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hadn’t expected yourself to feel nervous meeting them at the airport. Still, your heart pounded in your chest with a ridiculous rhythm. It wasn’t like you had a completely different face or had changed anything about yourself remotely  that would’ve shocked them. Still, a sense of anxiety swelled in you that was unexpected and unwarranted. Perhaps it was because it was so surreal. 

There was something odd about the airport, it was likely how industrial it all felt with chairs that were lined with thin upholstery and carpets that held all kinds of mysterious stains. But, while it was a bit of a undesirable area, it was teeming with excitement. There were patrons at the magazine stands busying themselves flipping through books and laughing at the outrageous titles, people sitting joyously at the little restaurants and several hyper children tugging the hands of exasperated parents with neck pillows clinging to their strained necks. Further down the way, there was the sign illuminated pointing to the pick up area past baggage claim. 

The air smelled overly filtered, but it was still as exhilarating. You took two escalators down and one moving walkway, then the light of the outdoors flooded the area with conveyor belts and the screens above them. 

“Y/n? Y/n!!!!” Jisung’s voice called over the busy sounds of baggage claim filled to the brim with his excitement. 

Before you got a chance to figure out where his voice had come from, your adorable boyfriend came charging at you with arms outstretched and an inhumanly large smile on his face. He scooped you up holding you so tightly that you had to teeter on your tip toes. While Jisung had a bit of a tiny frame, you never would’ve guessed from the scale of his hugs. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” He giggled out the words with a sense of disbelief, and he swung your body back and forth. “Oh my god I missed you sososo much.” 

Another set of arms peacefully wrapped around you and Jisung and squeezed you in even tighter. In one of his hands, the cellophane from a bouquet of pink roses crinkled. “It’s so nice to have you back.” Changbin cooed, then reached to pat your head with his free hand. 

 You blinked back your happy tears the best that you could. The three of you broke, and you looked at both of your boyfriends right in front of you for the first time in what felt like forever. Changbin squeezed Jisung’s shoulder while the boy wiped a couple tears for the corner of his eyes. 

You were biased, but they really were the most beautiful people in the world. 

“I-I missed you both too, more than you can imagine.” 

The two boys beamed, then presented you with your flowers. 

“‘Hope you like pink ‘cause that’s the last color that they had left.” Changbin chuckled, and you nodded profusely. 

“They’re gorgeous.” 

You decided, after two months of not seeing the damn loves of your life, you deserved to kiss them--fuck the glares that you would get.

First you grabbed Changbin by the cheeks to press a smiling kiss right into his surprised mouth, and kiss him like you were a high schooler starved for attention that was forbidden to them. Still, your boyfriend grabbed your face back, rubbing tenderly into your own cheeks. 

You winked to an equally shocked Jisung, “You next.” 

You kissed the stutters away on his lips, and then ran giddy lips over his which cracked with a smile so wide it made it a little hard to kiss him. He wrapped both of his arms around you to pull you in close and you ruffled up his caramel blond hair the best you possibly could. Beside you, Changbin chuckled out proudly. 

You had closed your eyes to kiss both of your boyfriends like they deserved. If someone had stared, well...you didn’t see it. 

Jisung was out of breath after your parted, then pushed up his glasses in his surprise. 

“That was....” 

“--Lets get home!!” You shined with a smile, then took off in front of them. “Are you coming or not??” 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jisung decided not to subject you to his home cooking, regardless of the fact that you had said that you wanted to try it. You had ordered take-out, and ate it picnic style on the floor to your living room in front of the TV playing a movie that none of you payed attention to. Regardless of the fact that your jet lag had hit you like a truck, your pure adrenaline upon seeing them kept your eyes from becoming weary. 

The normal questions had been asked: how are you classes, how is the food there, what are the people like, what is your apartment like, have you made friends etc. You asked Changbin about how his classes were going, and how Jisung’s part-time job at the café was and about the silly little things that you used to do as three, but they now had to as two. The consensus was that doing anything as two was strange and even a little awkward at times because they had gotten so used to having you around. 

Changbin cleared the dishes, making space for you to make up your little pillow fort that you would do at times. “It felt like there was a piece missing from us. It was...really hard sometimes too.” 

“It was for me too. Out there all alone...I had never realized that a bed meant for one person would be like, the saddest thing that there is on this earth.” 

“Small bed no more!” Jisung piped, then proceeded to wrap both his arms and legs around you the best he could. “Also small shower no more.” He nuzzled into your chest. 

One of the selling points of the apartment that you shared was actually the comically large shower that it came with. During the first few weeks after you had moved in, it was as if the three of you were physically incapable of taking a shower without the others being there. Changbin joked that it was as if they had made it just for the three of you in some kind of destined way. 

“Hmmm well, I think that we should make use of that as soon as possible.” 

Jisung let out a happy little hum in agreement then angled himself up to plant a couple quick kisses on your mouth and nose. Changbin threw down your array of pillows and other blankets, draping them over chairs to make a little tent like the three of you were toddlers hidden away in your secret place. 

“Sungie sandwich!!!” Jisung suddenly gasped out, “Binnie come on!!” 

Changbin scoffed, “I guess it has been a while...can’t say no to that.” 

Jisung squealed and the two of you made space for your boyfriend to come slide himself on the other side and make a proper “Sungie sandwich.” He kissed careful lips into the crook of Jisung’s neck which made the other boy giggle out in a tizzy: not only was he sensitive there, but it would tickle him too. You reached your arms over to tangle your fingers up in Changbin’s dark locks which were just as soft as you remembered. 

“This feels so amazing.” You sighed into Jisung who had crept his hands up your shirt. 

“It does.” Changbin agreed. “We’re complete again.” 

���⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Small bed no more was right. 

Jisung patted the middle spot, wearing only a white tee and his boxers. 

“Your spot awaits you princess.” 

“Don’t mind if I do!” 

Changbin sauntered over while he brushed his teeth, abandoning the idea of a shirt all together. 

Your eyes widened, “...Bin--” 

“--What?” He smugly smirked. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before?” 

“N-no.” 

Your other boyfriend scoffed, “He certainly knows that he’s hot, doesn’t he?” 

“He sure does.” Changbin dished out a prideful wink. 

With sarcasm laced in your voice, you turned to Jisung to say, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that while I was gone.” 

Changbin’s voice echoed from the bathroom “HE LIKED IT!” 

Jisung waved him off, settling to beckon you under the thick and cozy comforter that you had daydreamed of more than once. 

“Are you comfy?” He hushed. 

“Mmhm! Comfiest I’ve been in months.” 

Just as he always would, Jisung would wrap you up so tight that it might’ve been a little suffocating--but it wasn’t like you minded in the slightest. The top of his poofy hair smelled like grapefruits somehow, and you hadn’t realized how much you had missed it. The feeling of your bare legs intertwined, and there was nothing that came close to such a perfect feeling. 

Your other boyfriend clicked off the light, then engulfed the both of you with his rather strong and intimidating arms. You knew for a fact that they were nothing but cuddly and harmless. Being like this with them was what you had missed most, and it was finally yours for the taking. 

“Are you guys asleep yet?” Jisung whispered after approximately five minutes of silence. 

“No,” Changbin murmured. “What is it?” 

“I-I dunno, I can’t fall asleep, I just keep thinking...” 

You flopped over to face him, “What is it Sungie? Everything okay?” 

Your adorable boyfriend stammered, then shied under the comforter in the dark of the room. “I-I don’t know if now is the right time, but...” It was noticeable how his tone had changed; you and Changbin knew it well. Jisung’s pitch would raise and his voice would crack when he wanted something. 

Changbin leaned over to click the light back on. “Sung, you don’t have to be so coy about it. I think that Y/n and I know you better than you know yourself.” 

Jisung’s eyes widened in his embarrassment, “You what??” 

Your headstrong boyfriend sighed, “Use your words Sungie.” 

His cheeks turned rosy, then he peeped, “It’s just that it’s been a really long time and I can’t stop thinking about it, and...Bin and I didn’t really do anything for like a week cause--” 

Your head whipped in Changbin’s direction, “What?” 

Changbin nodded solemnly saying, “Let him finish.” 

“--C-cause I wanted us to wait for when you came back so it could be like, extra special? Or...something like that.” He threw the blanket over his head. “It sounds so dumb when I say it out loud.” 

You really didn’t deserve someone like Jisung. Not in this lifetime or the next. You felt your limbs practically turn to jelly to hug your shy boyfriend. 

“It’s not dumb!! Not at all!! I think that it’s so sweet! You wanted to wait for me? Oh, baby...” 

With the blanket pulled back, you held his glistening eyes with yours. He really was irresistible when he would get like this. 

“I’m assuming that you wanna stop waiting, hm?” 

Changbin joined you in leaning over the shiest of you three, then shrugged down the cotton of your loose t-shirt to paint kisses into your shoulder. In the chill of the room, the warmth contrasted beautifully. 

“Yes or no Sungie? Because I defin--” 

“--Yes! Uh--I mean, yes, but--only if you aren’t too tired or if you want to.” 

“Sungie, how can I say no to you?” You bowed your neck to press loving little kisses into his lips which still tasted faintly of mint. He immediately give into you, grabbing out to hold your neck firmly as you did so. His hips squirmed slightly, as did his legs--he always was such an impatient baby. 

Changbin scooched in closer to caress down your back as you filled your boyfriend with every single kiss that you had been waiting months to give him. 

His voice was as soft as velvet, and full of his immense love for the two of you. Seeing both of you like this made him swell with such as sense of admiration, it was as if it was a high for him. “We’ll take care of you Sungie, we’d love to.” 

Even from Changbin’s praises, Jisung’s whole body would shiver, and you could feel it on your tongue too when you had politely asked for him to allow you entrance. 

Jisung set to work pulling your shirt up over your arms once you turned to Changbin to kiss over him roughly. He had liked it more that way: a collision of lips and teeth grazing over the softer parts of your mouth, gasps getting caught in between and the heat of tongues twisting as if you were as sweet as honey. As soon as you were rid of your shirt two sets of hands greedily crept up your body to twist and pull at your nipples which had hardened in seconds. Your head fell to Changbin’s shoulder while they teased and flicked at your sensitive buds until they hurt. 

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Changbin growled, then cradled your head to lay you down. 

“The prettiest.” Jisung agreed, then hooked his fingers under the lacy part of your underwear that you might’ve worn with the purpose of them not staying on you for long. In return, you tugged at both of their waistbands for them to do the same. Cloth hit the bedside floor, and all that was left was Jisung’s shirt which you pulled off yourself. You only had a couple moments to look in the dim lighting of the room, but both of them had already dripped lightly with pearly drips of pre-cum and their hardening dicks throbbed against the mattress. Not only was it a heavenly sight to behold, but you knew that both of them were entirely for you. 

Changbin leaned down to flick his tongue around your hardened bud, then used his hand to kneed at your other breast with his powerful grasp. Jisung pulled your face towards him with hungry little whimpers that tickled your bottom lip, so you returned the favor by pulling his with your teeth. He recoiled beautifully from the feeling, and you saw your prefect window to slither down his body and wrap your hand around his pink cock. At first, you grazed your thumb over his slit roughly. 

“Did you miss my hand on your cock Sungie? Look at you...so hard for me, so worked up...do you want it that bad, baby?” 

“Y-yes, p-please...” 

Changbin kissed his way up your neck from your breasts sparkling from his saliva, then sucked love bites onto your collarbones and the soft parts of your neck. “Angel, I want to see you with Sungie’s dick in your mouth, can you do that?” 

You nodded, reveling in Changbin’s instructions. There was something about being told exactly what to do that made you feel so pliable. Changbin knew it well. You then worked kisses down your boyfriend’s body, pausing for a moment to flick your tongue over his nipples in the way that made his whole chest flush with pink. He laughed out in his pleasure with an airy breath too. You kissed gently at first, teasing your lips over, then sucking harshly with a trailing of teeth. His back arched, and he let out a delightful “ah-fuck!” 

You finished by peppering other little marks on his chest which faded from pink to violet in a matter of seconds. 

“Babyboy, you wanna taste my cock too?” Changbin greedily rose to kneel, then pumped his fist with tiny trailing breaths. 

Jisung’s eyes turned into full moons at the sight, then nodded excitedly while angling himself correctly. You and your boyfriend exchanged prideful little glances over the other’s eagerness. The pads of your fingers traced down Jisung’s thin frame, ghosting over his flaring abs and drawing little scribbles into his ribs. Your perfect position was set between this quivering thighs which welcomed you easily, and you took his deliciously pink cock in your hand to tease at him with thick stripes. You gathered saliva on your tongue so he could feel it, then used another hand to pump at him too. 

Jisung flattened out his tongue to swirl it around his boyfriends angrily red tip and maintained eye contact as Changbin preferred. As the smallest boy dipped his head in closer, Changbin entangled his fingers with those gorgeous caramel trellises. He sighed out at the feeling of his cock hitting the back of Jisung’s throat, and groaned out lowly once he heard the other choke on it lightly. 

“Fuck baby. Just like that..” 

You then took in Jisung’s length as deeply as you could: and it was no easy feat. Where Changbin dominated in girth, Jisung made up for in length. The action sent Jisung whining helplessly on Changbin’s dick, which only drove the other boy further into his passion. 

“You take me so well Sungie.” He cooed, and pulled out for Jisung to catch a few desperate gasps. 

Your saliva gathered in the corner of your mouth, and you licked it up and down the sides of Jisung’s cock-- but only for a few moments. You swallowed him down, pushing down the back of your throat just as you had long learned how to do. Merely feeling the weight of him in your mouth sent your pussy throbbing and your legs twisting for some kind of sensation. Of course, Changbin had noticed. 

“Open your legs sweetheart.” 

You did as you were told, and his thick fingers came journeying through your soaked folds, and he toyed with your clit and slicked his fingers with your arousal. His index and middle finger circled around you: it was a sensation that you had dreamed of endlessly. 

“Mm, Bin...” You moaned onto Jisung’s cock. 

“Pretty pussy of yours must’ve missed this, hm? My fingers fucking your wet little cunt? I missed it too...” 

You tried your best to maintain your strength once you had returned to sucking off Jisung’s dick, but you only seemed to unravel further. He rutted his hips into your mouth needily--an action which teased at your gag reflex, but you were stronger than that. 

Jisung’s own slobber fell down the side of his neck which Changbin held, just so he could feel the way that he filled up his boyfriends throat. With his other hand, he dipped it further inside your pussy, fucking you slowly at first. You knew that he loved the way that your slick sounded on his fingers. In response, your helpless moans vibrated on your boyfriend’s dick. 

“Y/n, I want your mouth too.” Changbin asked gravely with hooded and darkened eyes. You knew what you had to do next. His fingers slipped out from you, and you loathed feeling so empty, but you weren’t one to disobey him either. 

Changbin made space for you to lay on your stomach next to Jisung and then tapped his wetted dick on your lips as well, leaving Jisung gasping next to you. 

“Fucking show me how much you missed me.” 

You took him in, and you had nearly forgotten how sizeable he really was. It was startling, and as soon as you took in his full length, you had to fight back tears over how thick he really was. Regardless, the way that he could stretch you out like this was purely addictive. 

“Oh...fuck--baby...” Your boyfriends voice dropped several decibels. “My babies suck my dick s-so good don’t they?” 

Jisung nodded in his wonder at you, and Changbin dipped his thumb into his mouth afterword. Jisung always did love the taste. 

Changbin caressed your full cheek, “Don’t forget to share.” 

You took a deep breath, then let Jisung take his turn again. As he did so, you resumed your work at jerking off his dripping tip, and he reached to slide between your folds with long fingers. 

With both of your adoring glances, you and Jisung kissed and lapped up the sides of your boyfriend’s dick and his eyes rolled back at the ethereal sight. 

“H-holy sh-shit--” 

Your hips buckled once Jisung let his fingers plunge inside of you and high pitched mewls sent you clawing at Changbin’s hips for balance. 

“W-wait...” Changbin pulled himself away, and you knew that he must’ve been practicing the best restraint he could. “Sungie, you wanna taste her pussy too? Taste how sweet she is?” 

Jisung smiled widely, despite being a bit of slobbery and tear-stained himself. 

“I’ve been waiting for months to!” 

You looked to Changbin for approval. 

“Sit on his face then sweetheart? Wouldn’t you like to ride his face for me?” 

You nodded in your thrill, and the bedsheets crinkled under the sound of the three of you shifting your bodies back into the proper position. 

As it often would, the windows to your room fogged with steam--even though it was a beautiful spring evening. Pillows were strewn everywhere, and some of them nearly fell off the bed. Nevertheless, you had never been cozier wrapped in the clean threads and with your sweating skin pressed against heated bodies.

Jisung firstly kissed at your wet lips, teasing and humming happily into them. He grabbed onto both of your thighs to open you further then pulled your folds apart to kiss directly on your bud--an action which sent you nearly screaming over how intense it all felt. 

“You can be loud for us baby. There’s nothing to be scared of here.” 

It was as if a switch had flipped within you, and each and every lap of Jisung’s tongue felt like the most euphoric sensation you had ever experienced. He looked utterly adorable under you with his pink and juicy tongue running stripes over your clit. Merely watching him like this was enough to bring you to your first orgasm. 

“D-don’t stop S-sung...” You rolled your hips over his lips. 

Changbin had snaked himself farther down Jisung’s body which glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He clicked the bottle of lube, then smoothed it over his length, finally aligning it over the smaller boy. Your hands grabbed out for something to hold onto: one of them within Jisung’s hair, and the other squeezing painfully into the headboard. 

“Rough or slow Sungie?” Changbin laughed out wickedly. 

“R-rough...” Jisung moaned onto your pussy, “H-hard...” 

Changbin entered your boyfriend carefully, and both of them shuddered at the feeling. The room was full of all of your eroticism, and Jisung groaned out loudly at the connection. From the sounds your orgasm drew itself out too, and it was heightened even more when Jisung moved to pump his fingers deeply into you as well. He curved his fingertips in the way that grazed your cervix, and then sent you quivering pathetically over his face. Lower, Changbin dug his fingers into his boyfriends hips slamming into him without pause, and panting haphazardly. 

“C-can yo-you cum for me??” Jisung whimpered in a way that was much too cute for his own good. 

“Yes.” You answered, then fucked your hips over his plush lips and you clenched your teeth hard against your lip “Mm-fingers, Sung--please...” 

Jisung did as he was told, and maintained his pace stimulating your g-spot then, and begging an orgasm out of your body. He himself whimpered like a puppy while he was fucked out. Had you not been focusing on your orgasm, you wished you could see it all happen. 

“Ji--fuck--” Your hips violently shook, and you came with a searing heat that locked your walls tight around his fingers and dripped even further down your shaking thighs and splattered into his delicate features. It didn’t startle him at all, but he merely licked his lips free of your slick. 

“B-Bin--” He gasped out, then you fell down in your aftershocks to watch the way that Changbin spread out your gorgeous boyfriend with sweat dripping down his chest and from his brow. 

“Ride him, baby.” Changbin immediately ordered. “I want you to cum all over his dick, got it?” 

With grabby hands, Jisung pulled you right into his chest once you had straddled him. He played with your nipples for a few fleeting moments as you got situated pushing his cock into your pussy still trembling from your last orgasm. 

It was beautiful how he could fill you up like this. It was intimacy incomparable a closeness that only you had shared with him. In fact, he had actually been somewhat of a virgin when the three of you had met, and both you and Changbin were his first time. Knowing that he had only shared this part of himself with you and your boyfriend felt intoxicating in a way. 

You flicked your hips over his length, and focused your strength on fucking him slowly compared to how relentless Changbin kept his pace at. 

“I love you baby. Jisung, I love you so much.” You held his gaze. 

Two tears fell from his cheeks--not out of sadness, but of his pure love for you. 

He begged with a quivering lip, “Please kiss me.” 

And you did. You kissed Jisung like he was as fragile as flower petals that could break with the smallest tear. You kissed his lips as sweet as candy and you kissed the last bits of your arousal away on the corners of his mouth. 

Still, “Harder...” He begged, and your hips dipped lower and quicker over him. 

“Want me to fuck you harder babyboy?” 

Changbin threw his hands on your shoulders, then ran them down your spine to feel the way that you moved over Jisung’s dick. 

“Want us to fuck you until you can’t say any more?” You tutted. 

“Fuck, Sung, you feel so--” 

“G-gonna make me cum-ngh!” 

Changbin angled the boys hip up a bit further, and the sound of skin on skin filled the room. 

You sang out the phrase, “~I didn’t hear you say it Sungie~” 

Jisung’s face screwed up, and he gasped out loud enough for the neighbors to likely hear, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. 

“Fuck me please.” 

The thickness of the air in the bedroom clouded, and you fucked your beautiful boyfriend with your tightening walls as hard and as fast as you could, right until you brought yourself to the brink of another trembling orgasm, right over his dick. Changbin gifted a stinging slap to your ass then bit kisses into your shoulder right as you came undone for the second time, and Jisung’s eyes rolled to the back of his head once he came inside you at the very same moment. Your velvet walls tightened around his ribbons of cum inside and you collapsed against his gasping chest to warm him after his release. 

Changbin set himself loose, groaning out loudly as he came too, and shook with delighted laughter that was mixed up in his happy little “oh’s.” and the hitch of his breath. His restless hands caressed every inch of your body that he could as he brought himself down, finally bowing down to kiss right into your shoulder blades and back. Jisung called out his boyfriend’s name too while he shook around him. 

You coaxed yourself free of Jisung’s dick and Changbin wondered in the way that Jisung and made a creamy mess of your pussy. He then did the same watching how his seed spilled out of Jisung as well. 

“Wow.” 

The three of your sweating bodies clambered flat onto the mattress and the room fell quiet, leaving space for your breaths and the way that the spring evening sounded outside of your window: distant car horns, the hush of the breeze, the ebb and flow of the early arrival of cicadas. 

“Are you okay?” Changbin asked the both of you with worried hands running over both of your sweating forms. 

“Y-yeah. I am.” You smiled. 

Jisung shied his flushed face with one of the bedsheets. “Me too.” 

“I think...if you’d like, maybe the three of us could kind of, sorta, I dunno, stay connected for a little bit?” Changbin smoothed down the little hairs on your arm with the gentlest touch. 

“If Y/n wants to?” 

You exhaled peacefully into both of your boyfriends arms, and gave them a little hum to say yes. Changbin carefully wetted his dick with your slick, then guided himself into you pussy with his half hard dick, and it felt like a dream. Jisung too took a bit of lube in his hand as well, then pumped his dick with a shiver to then slide himself into your ass. The two of them swept over your body with light and fleeting kisses to your neck, shoulders, cheeks, nose and lips. You stayed the same: wonderfully full, and so close to them that it must’ve been unreal. While it hurt a little how they had stretched you out, you wiggled your hips still to feel even more of it. Your boyfriends sighed out at the feeling. 

“Sweetheart, you do that any more and you’re gonna make us want to fuck you again.” Changbin scoffed. 

“What if I want you to?” You traced the way that his deep brown hair curved over his ear. “What if I want you to fuck me like this...close...slowly...?” 

“Sung?” 

“If she wants to, I want to as well.” 

Changbin held your hips firmly under the blanket, then started his slow thrusts into you with his dick that indulgently grew hard once more. 

He whispered the promise over your lips, “We can do that for you baby.” 

You don’t know how long the three of you had remained as such. Time became nothing of your concern as the night slipped on and both of them took every ounce of their time with you, slowly fucking up into your pussy and ass, the sounds of your slick renewed filled up the room. They brought out a couple more shaking orgasms from your core, each of them followed by careful kisses to soothe your shaking body. 

“Such a good girl for us.” Jisung nibbled into your ear. His hand got tangled with the sheets too where he reached around to twist your nipples between his fingers. 

“How do you want it baby? Do you want it inside?” 

Changbin’s skin filled up your palm, then you slung a leg over his hip so he could hit your g-spot perfectly. 

“P-please?” 

“Of course. Sung?” 

“--Mm-m’ close too.” 

A few more moments of your symphonic moans, and you unfolded between them: one last orgasm that was so encompassing that you had slipped right into a space so safe, that you felt as if nothing in the world could touch you. Changbin finished off with unexpectedly adorable sounding grunt, and he throbbed within you to the tune of Jisung doing the same. 

“Shit.” Jisung giggled, then nuzzled his head right into the nape of your neck. 

“How was that angel?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” 

The three of you found solace in the skin on skin of it all: three people, three bodies that could be closer than two bodies ever could.  

“Ready to clean off in our big-ass shower?” Jisung wiggled you in his giant hug. 

“Small shower no more.” 

“The problem is, who’s gonna get up first to get the water running?” 

Condensation dripped down the windows, and the curtains blew softly with the spring air invading the room and carrying the smell of flowers and the mist  lingering in grass. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Water dripped like rain over the pink of muscles and intermingled with the iridescent drops of soap bubbles which held little rainbows in and of themselves. Hair slicked to the sides of faces, and transparent streams coursed down the simple breaths on rising chests. Steam filled up your lungs, a reminder that it was all real. 

You were here with them. It wasn’t some kind of dream that you had painted while in that room alone with yourself and the buzzing of a TV speaking in tongues that you didn’t know. 

Even though they said nothing, but rather touched your body down, you could hear their thoughts like a melody. 

They loved every bit of you, and it was written on their faces times two. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

[missinghan]

what if we ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au

❖ word count : 4,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : Minho is more than fed up with your nonsense of not having a roommate until you graduate because he’s desperately in need of a new place after getting kicked out.

❖ a/n : the continuation of roommate lino is out now!

one.

Minho takes dreadful strides into M.I.A Cafe, completely waterlogged from head to toe like a wet rat, drained from trying to walk back home without an umbrella—even if he had one, the wind would have taken him along with it on an exhilarating ride while Poseidon is throwing a rampage at Zeus or whatever gods up there.

He slumps into the nearest seat possible, sinking deeply into the cushioned surface only to stain the blue velvet with his sodden leather jacket. Anyone else happening upon the scene might notice a more than average looking college kid; Minho’s mesmerizing, he really is. But not just because of his catlike smile or stupidly good hair without even trying, it’s also because he’s the president of the dance club despite being a business major. It’s not hard for him to gain even more attention since he works at the cafe on campus anyway. 

However, all Woojin sees from overlooking his workplace is his idiotic coworker who left ten minutes ago has officially given up on going against the bloody family feud above and come back to make his life miserable. Kang is going to give him shit for the wet cushions because Minho’s shift has fortunately ended. And it only gets worse from there. The younger boy pushes himself off the chair and flings his dripping bangs away from his face before taking off his jacket, deciding it’s a good idea to sway it back and forth, splashing water all over the clean floor.

“Lee Minho,” Woojin raises his voice slightly but Minho simply ignores his threatening tone and stuffs his leather jacket into his backpack. 

The brunet makes his way over to the countertop, hopping effortlessly onto one of the bar stools. “I would like a Vietnamese coffee, please,” Minho shows his friend those ridiculous looking sparkly eyes like he just stepped out from an anime, and Woojin forces a smile through gritted teeth. “Come on, I’m tired, don’t look at me as if I’m in charge of the weather or something.”

Woojin remains silent, and so does his death glare. Hence, Minho gives in and props his head onto his hand lazily. “Fine, just give me a hot chocolate, I’m freezing over here,” he shivers stoically as his brain is multitasking (yelling at him and considering his options at the same time). With the sky roaring as if it’s raging on with other supernatural forces, Minho isn’t overly fond of heading outside by himself again. Meaning, plan A: get a ride or plan B: stay with Woojin until his graveyard shift is over. Minho’s having an eight AM tomorrow and he’s not about to walk up to the nurse’s office with a broken ankle for skipping three steps at a time. But in what world would a guardian angel appear out of nowhere to drive him home?

A random Twitter notification pops up and he swipes it away dejectedly, wholly uninterested. When Woojin slides the paper cup across the countertop, he catches a glimpse of Minho’s lock screen and gasps as if he just saw something out of the ordinary. It’s not. “You replaced your cats’ photo with Y/N’s instead? Okay, I see you, you sly little bitch,” he chuckles creepily while wiping his hand onto the white apron. 

“It’s temporary,” Minho sneers like a cat having someone step on its tail. “Besides, she hates it, that’s why I put it there.” 

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Woojin is making a big deal out of this as if it’s a picture of you cuddling Minho or something. But in reality, it’s just a really ugly photo of you taking too big of a bite when he decided to flex his paycheck and took you out to a pizzeria. You forgave him because 1) you had the opportunity to eat real pizza after months of stocking up frozen ones from the supermarket, and 2) it’s only a matter of time until he’s over it and returns to his typical photos of his cats at home. 

“Yo,” Minho says after a sip of the hot beverage. “You’re moving out of Seungmin’s next week?”

Woojin replies, silently appreciating one of the rare civil conversations with his friend. “Yep, you? Don’t tell me that you haven’t found a place yet,” he stops himself right there, only to be met with complete dead silence. “Wait, you’re kidding, right? Aren’t you getting kicked out on Monday? How are you gonna find a place within three days?”

“Tough luck?” Minho shrugs nonchalantly, staring rather deeply at his lock screen, and an idea pops up inside his head. He feels the need to kick himself because he should have thought of this sooner. Biting his lower lip, he’s slightly nervous when his thumb taps onto your name in his contact. It’s not like you’re gonna rip his head off, why is he so jumpy about this anyway?

His train of thoughts get cut off when your raspy voice rings through his eardrums, “What do you want?”

two.

Your white Rover pulls up in front of the cafe after five minutes of cursing at him through the phone while dragging yourself out of bed and another ten to drive to your unwanted destination. 

“Get in before I rip your head off,” you deadpan, pushing your bangs away from your face. 

“I love you, did you know that?” Your heart totally didn’t skip a beat at that. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t have meant it. It was lighthearted, it sounded lighthearted but was it supposed to be lighthearted? Great, now your heart just gives up on you while your brain is harassing you with some stupid assumptions without valid shreds of evidence. 

Minho smiles sheepishly at you after waving to Woojin—who isn’t very interested in his departure and enters your car in relief. Although you were doing nothing but spitting strings after strings of curse words at him, it genuinely made him feel at ease when he heard your voice through the phone, hanging by three percent of battery left. 

“Also, spill the hot chocolate, and I’m gonna throw you on the highway,” you warn him before starting the engine. The only problem with your morbid remarks is that Lee Minho is exclusively immune to them because he too, shares the same amount of insanity with you like how you both shared a sad tuna sandwich last Tuesday when the school canteen tried to recreate a Chipotle bowl. You both tasted it. And you were offended. 

Minho tosses his backpack to the backseats and replies in monotone, “I won’t, just don’t kill us. That’s all I’m asking from you.” He looks awfully good for someone who’s completely rain-soaked. How fucking unfair.

“That’s all?” you question without looking at him in the eye. He only hums a random melody from a song that you can’t quite remember before plugging his phone in with your speakers. Your face morphs into a frown at his vague reaction, “Usually one thing leads to another, you never ask me for a single favor and just leave me alone, are you sure that you didn’t forget your wallet and now you wanted a new tattoo?” 

He breaks into a fit of giggles at that, three are already enough for his ancestors to haunt him in his sleep. And your heart magically comes back more alive than ever at the sound; it really needs to stop doing that before you’re found dead on the street just by talking to him on the phone or something. “It’s not that,” Minho scratches the nape of his neck. “I’m basically gonna be homeless next week if I don’t manage to find a new place in like...three days.” 

The car grows silent for a second there before Didn’t know me by Heize starts blasting through the speakers when he puts one of his playlists on random. You look over at him deep in the eye, thinking rather thoroughly about this. And Minho starts feeling knots in his stomach when you avert your gaze back onto the road. Are you perhaps...mad at him?

“Don’t-even-think-about-it,” you deadpan. “You know how Yeji pleaded to move in with me after freshman year, and..failed miserably.”

“Come on! You can’t be this heartless, are you really gonna let me sleep on the sidewalk for a good three weeks?”

You click your tongue in annoyance while making a turn to the left. “I never said that you moron,” An eye roll soon follows your statement, and before Minho can even say anything, his mouth snaps shut, eyes wide. “You know that Chan lives alone right?”

He protests, “Chan always let Changbin and Jisung crash to make music. Besides, it’s a studio apartment, like hello? I’m not planning on losing my beauty sleep here. ”

“Woojin?”

“After the mess I made back there? He will murder me, Y/N,” Minho says without a single shred of fear in his voice, yet he’s giving you those Puss in Boots eyes as if he’s gonna let Woojin snap his head off that easily. Jeongin is still living on campus, and Minho would rather be sleeping with dead rats than sharing a room with Jisung because Seungmin would never let him step a foot onto his white carpet. 

You scrunch your nose and ignore the golden specks in his eyes, “You didn’t even try asking him, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind housing you for a few weeks. He’s a good guy and definitely doesn’t hate your ass enough to not let you sleep in the living room.”

“But,” he pouts sadly, in which you’re completely unaffected by. But here’s what makes your chest swell. “I like spending time with you,” he mumbles under his breath. Huh? Your heart rate falls flat before coming back to thunder inside your chest cavity twice as fast. Did he really just-

Minho sighs, and suddenly his shoulders start getting heavy. He feels rejected, but he shouldn’t since it’s not mandatory for you to let him stay with you. Perhaps, he’s nothing but a complete nuisance in your eyes after all. “But if you say so,” he murmurs, eyes turning stormy and you can feel a pit at your stomach. “I guess I’m gonna call Woojin then..”

And he ends the conversation there, abruptly. 

Raindrops knocking at your car’s windows. The sounds of his fingers tapping against the keyboard. Even your own rhythm of breathing. Everything’s piling onto your back as if you’ve just committed a terrible sin. 

Woojin is really busy this year, preparing for grad school and everything. And your current courses are pretty easy to handle, it’d be mean of you to let him contain Lee Minho while working two jobs. Especially when he’s constantly turning in assignments at a single minute right before the deadline. So with the little amount of morality left, you tell yourself to stop being a little bitch and start considering the possibilities of having a roommate for the very first time. 

“Fine,” you grumble after a good twenty seconds of thinking. “You can use my old air mattress, a month should be good before you’re able to find a new place. So we’re taking turns washing the dishes and splitting the bills in half, cool?”

Minho’s brain suddenly demands every part of his body to stop, his finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. “Gee okay, I get it, you don’t like having roommates. But you don’t have to be so pressed about it,” he concludes almost too fast for your brain cells to comprehend what’s going on in his mind. Was he even listening to you? “I knew you weren’t gonna let me stay with—“ His words instantly come to a halt, eyeballs ready to pop out of their respective sockets any second. 

“What?” he blurts, round eyes staring right at you expectantly. 

You scratch your nose with your ring finger when a coral tint rises on your cheekbones, something that you do a lot whenever you’re nervous. “I said you can come and stay with me for the time being,” you say lamely, having a spontaneous interest in the row of Sumikko Gurashi figures that Minho gave you on your birthday last year. “I don’t want you to poison Woojin with your cooking, roomie.”

“You’d better feed me then, Ramsay,” he beams with a bright smile—far brighter than the Sun itself and any of the stars above. And who were you kidding? It’s not his cooking that you’re worrying about. It’s not even Woojin that you’re worrying about. It’s him, you’re worried about him.

Besides, maybe you like spending time with him too. 

three.

After a whole night of hauling three gigantic cardboard boxes along with two suitcases into your apartment, you drag Minho’s ass out of bed at nine in the morning, push him into your car and slowly reverse out of your apartment’s parking lot. 

He’s not very attentive to his surroundings when he’s tired so he didn’t mind the monotonous voice of the news reporter coming out of the speakers. Whereas, he would have yelled at you by now to shut it off so he can blast his Spotify playlist at maximum volume to annoy people who apparently don’t know how to park their cars properly. Still, he only finished unpacking half of his luggage at four so it didn’t occur to him how little time he spent half-sleeping against your car’s window. 

It didn’t occur to him how you managed to maneuver him out of the vehicle either. But when his eyes start hurting from rubbing them too much, Minho realizes that you’re piloting him through an old couple shopping hand in hand, a sweaty man in his mid-forties wearing a tracksuit and a child tugging at his mom’s skirt, begging for a lollipop. He gazes downward, eyes stop dead in their tracks seeing your hand intertwined with his while your free one is scrolling through the list of groceries on your phone. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, glad that you’re finally awake,” the amount of sarcasm laced in your tone just makes the blush on his cheeks disappear in the span of half a second. 

Minho makes a face and pulls his hand back to grab a cart, trailing after your footsteps grimly like an obedient puppy. “Waking up early was not in the contract,” he lets out the loudest yawn possible without covering his mouth, no manners whatsoever. “That lawsuit for child labor? Pending.”

You chuckle dryly and toss a box of oatmeal cookies into the cart, not really caring that he’s sleepy and tired. You’re the one who’s driving after all. “It technically is,” you say with a meek smile and turn around, watching him throw in a bag of popcorn, barbecue flavored chips, and other junks that scream college staple food. He told you that he’s making use of the school’s gym five times a week but seeing the amount of trash that’s piling up, you doubt that his efforts are gonna matter at this point. 

“I told you that we’re grocery shopping every Monday morning because we both don’t have classes on Monday mornings.”

Minho only groans loudly like a damsel in distress until you both reach the vegetable aisle. He immediately goes for the asparagus and broccoli, probably to water down the amount of sodium from the chips. 

You’re not sure if it’s just because he’s sleepy but the rest of your banter while raiding the supermarket is fairly civil. In short, it’s the most normal conversation you’ve ever had with him. Not that you’re complaining, it's actually really nice to see how he also has a soft side to him. Not only did Minho grab the chicken breasts for Chan because that guy cannot live without them, but he also called Changbin to check which flavor of the protein bar that he prefers. It seems like he’s gonna crash at Chan’s place for an upcoming secret project. 

When you both queue up at the self-checkout line, he observes the light blue packaging of your shampoo curiously. He notices how you stopped getting the twelve ounces bottle and went for the twenty-four ounces one instead. 

“You’re still using this one? I thought you said you wanted to change it up every time?” He asks, propping his head onto your shoulder lazily. Minho remembers how you started to try out this brand three months ago and he laughed his ass off at you for being so determined to go through all of their scents. It’s dumb, yes, but he commented on every single one of them anyway. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” 

Your body tenses up when he sniffs at your hair, nose brushing against the back of your ear, and it’s not helping either when his forearms are resting against the lines of your waist so he can hold onto the cart while you’re too busy bombarding Yeji with questions about the frat party she attended last night. You’re basically trapped between him and the cart; you can’t believe you’re only realizing that just now. 

“Hold up, I thought you usually go grocery shopping alone?” Yeji flips the table and inquires slyly on the other line, then she lets out an audible gasp. It’s so loud that Minho staggers backward from surprise, almost hitting the cart behind. “Is that Lee Minho?! Y/N, what are you two doing at the Asian market at ten AM? Together?!”

Words spill out of your mouth before you can even process them properly. “We saw each other coincidentally and ended up using the same cart.” And now you want to put your head through a wall because what kind of an answer was that? Your brain had to malfunction at that very moment, in the middle of that very call, it just had to. “Okay, whatever, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow during Park’s lecture, see you,” you hang up just like that, not knowing how to act because now you have to tell Yeji about how you—a complete loner—is finally having a roommate. But that roommate isn’t her specifically. 

“You good? You look a bit..feverish,” Minho rests a hand on your forehead while his free one pushes the cart forward. Still in a daze, your heart shudders, and your back accidentally comes in contact with his chest, making you drop your phone onto the carton of eggs in a panic. “Careful there, that’s two months worth of eggs,” he reminds you, clearly not having a single clue of how giddy you are right now. 

Also, saying that you’re giddy is an understatement. 

You shake your head and mutter, “Right, sorry, you were saying?”

“I just asked why you stopped trying the rest of the scents and committed to April Cotton so easily.”

“It’s because you said it’s the best one so far,” you answer honestly, almost too honestly because right now, Minho feels like someone’s using his heart to juggle right inside his chest cavity. 

four.

That night, after Minho’s monstrous shift at the cafe and three hours of you FaceTiming Yeji to procrastinate about a writing assignment, you both are sprawled across your white fuzzy carpet that sheds more than three of his cats combined. 

In between is an empty cup of McFluffy, a sad piece of pepperoni pizza and leftover fries, all being placed on a piece of newspaper because Minho’s promised you that if he ever dirtied your carpet, he’d take you to a concert. His bank account isn’t ready for that yet. A Dog’s Way Home just ended two minutes ago and as the ending credits roll, you’re all curled up inside your over-sized hoodie, sniffling into a piece of tissue. 

“Day one with your new roommate here and you’re already shedding tears Jesus Christ,” Minho tells you after stretching his limbs out tiredly, eyes becoming droopy.  

“Shut up,” you punch his arm and laugh, wiping the remaining of your tears with your sleeves. “I swear I saw your eyes watering when Bella reunited with Big Kitten.”

“They did not?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin when he settles back down onto the floor, supporting his head with his hands. To be fair, the CGI was kinda shitty, a little bit noticeable but the reunion was too emotional for him to care about something as meaningless as that. 

Minho ignores how you’re mumbling something and instead, turns onto his side and grabs a piece of fries, chewing obnoxiously. “So, Y/N,” he inquires rather cautiously. “How does it feel like to finally have good company along with good food?” 

You hum for a while but answer with little consideration, eye closed, “I could use someone with a smaller mouth, and a smaller ego too but yeah, it’s kinda dope.” And you open one side of your eyes to see him being the literal CTRL+V of the surprised Pikachu meme. He looks betrayed, as if someone just sneaked into your apartment and snatched all of his packets of instant ramen in one go, just like whoosh, out the door they go with his daily breakfast. 

“It feels kinda nice too,” you proceed to continue, staring at the ceiling to avoid eye contact with him. “Because I know although this person acts like an asshole most of the time, he’s just a really big softie on the inside. I like how he called his friends in the middle of his shopping trip to see if he’s getting them the right flavor of protein bars, how he paid for the groceries even though we’re equally broke, and how he skipped dance practice to volunteer at a nursing home every weekend.” 

You’re not looking, but you’re pretty sure that Minho’s smile is growing so big, his cheeks are about to crack in half. “I didn’t tell anyone about that,” he stifles a laugh. “It’s either you’re somewhat a creep or you’re just really cautious about what kind of people you let into your life.”

“I’m a loner, what can I say?” You chuckle lightheartedly, feeling slightly fuzzy inside for no particular reason. “I am really cautious when it comes to stuff like that because the more you let people into your life, the more it hurts when they decide they’re gonna leave you.”

“Hah! So that’s why you’re so stubborn about the whole not having a roommate thing?” You nod sheepishly at that, feeling kinda embarrassed because it feels like he’s unraveling your secrets right under your nose. 

The signature catlike smile lingers on his lips when you turn on your right to face him, and your useless heart thinks it’s a good time to skip a beat when your eyes meet his round ones with ridiculously beautiful lashes. You’ve never felt like this towards anyone before, it’s risky, you know it but you think you can trust him. You can trust Lee Minho. 

Although he wasn’t this big, sassy persona that has a questionable obsession with cats and dancing when you first met him. You encountered Minho for the very first time backstage at the school’s music festival to support 3RACHA’s performance. Initially, he made absolutely no effort to even greet you like how a civil human being would, but he was intrigued when he saw the SpiderMan plush keychain on your backpack. And it seemed like fate was only trying to push both of you closer together because you kept bumping into him on campus. So it’s only a matter of time before he decided that he hated eating lunch alone and asked for the empty seat next to you, offering you his watered-down cup of coffee. 

“What made you change your mind then? Why not just reject me?” Minho scoots closer to you, eyes sparkling with anticipation. 

“Because I feel like..you won’t be leaving me anytime soon..”

“Damn right, I can never stop bothering you.”

You don’t know where, how, or why you can muster every fiber of courage left inside of you to tell him that. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Maybe this is a sign, the universe wants you to stop being so closed up all the time and open up to new people (regardless of how shitty you think they are) because life’s way too short to play the role of the lone traveler on this planet. And it’s madness to think that all it took this boy was half a cup of Vietnamese coffee and a call at such an ungodly hour for your heart to be completely his. Nothing’s gonna change much, you think. You’re gonna still free-fall into this hellhole called ‘college’ with your first world problems like everyone else but the only difference is that you don’t have to be alone anymore. There’s a hand for you to hold, a shoulder for you to lean on and your heart has found its new home. You don’t think you’ve ever felt it being so alive before. However, you’re not against it even when you’re still dubious. 

Because that’s how you’re supposed to feel your entire life. 

❖ p/s : I hope you enjoyed this little monster that I managed to whip up in the past few days, I thought it’d be nice if I could give you guys smth as a “parting gift” for my [rest]. I was very, very sleep-deprived as I proofread this so please don’t come for me & I’ll see you in the next fic!

[cosmiclatte28]

Won’t Let Go (Taeyong x you, you x Jaehyun) angsty-fluff-romance!

Hey there, I am in the mood for some plot like this (no spoilers, read it to find out :P ) Though it might be cliche, I am soft for this kind of Taeyong... and sorry if Jaehyun looks so bastard here, I swear he won’t be like this at all in real life. Jae is a sweet heart too. It’s a happy ending :D

Warning : drunk, bastard! boyfriend Jaehyun, cheating scene.  Taeyong is  your room mate *coughs* he is your savior, Tae is the sweetest caring man you can imagine. Last parts refer to the famous song “say you won’t let go.” Guys please do not follow this kind of attitude, cheating and getting drunk are not to be followed. Do not get drunk, you might pass out or worse got alcohol poisoning.

Enjoy! it’s a bit angsty soft honest drunk talk in the end between you and Tae (okay i spoiled it, but find the details below. A bit long, but I promise it’s engaging) I pour my soft emotion on this :”)

                                    ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's two weeks to finals and on the last thanksgiving break, you decide to join the loud crowded party Johnny held this Saturday. Your best friend, Taeyong had reminded you not to come, because you'll regret coming to it on Sunday. Sadly, you brush it off and choose to invite Taeyong to join. "Don't go, you know the last time you went to that party Johnny and his friends set up, you passed out." Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose. You roll your eyes to the dull roommate you have, "You need to loosen up Tae! Look, it’s Saturday, we have the whole Sunday to sleep and have no regret. It's good for your body to slacken a bit." You turn your heels to open the cabinet behind your back and search through the clothes. Taeyong sighs, "Is your man coming?" he sounds a bit annoyed, well there was some war history between him and Jae. You nod your head, "Of course Jaehyun is coming, he co-hosts the party as long as I know." Taeyong groans, "Now that is another reason why you really want to come." Taeyong knows you're not the party goer. He remembers taking care of you after your first drunken experience, you clearly said you're not coming to any of those things again, yet here you are begging him to come along and insisting to come.

"Yes, Jae is there to make sure I'm alright. Last time it was my fault okay, he was away but I come to Yuta's birthday party, he's my best friend." you give Taeyong your puppy eyes. "How does this look?" you pick out a dress from the cabinet and press it to your body, asking Taeyong who's leaning on your door frame to examine the dress. "Nice, it's cold outside don't forget your coat." he clicks his tongue, "I am not dumping a pile of blanket over you if you got home frozen." "Oh I won't come back frozen, even if I do, I know you'll dump me all of the blankets we have." You laugh and Taeyong hates to admit that he will do that, you're too precious to die on him. "So, you want me to come and what? be your driver?" he asks You throw him a sad look, 'Yak I'm not planning to get wasted. I just need you to enjoy the night, besides your rap group will come. Doyoung told me." "Yeah Johnny told me too, he's also in the group honey." Taeyong clicks his tongue, how can you forget Johnny is practically in Taeyong's main squad. "You know what, I kinda miss all of the boys, I'll join you." He gives up and you squeal. "Now that is more of the Taeyong I know." you clap your hands. Although he is not like that. There's just a small feeling of safety when Taeyong is around and Taeyong, he won't let you alone in the dark, not when he knows Jaehyun is not the best man in taking care of a girl. You and Taeyong share a cab to the house Johnny rented for the night. It was all good and nice, you meet your friends and some of your man's friends. You; however, did not see Jaehyun at all since coming into the room. "Oh hey (y/n)! Did not see you there, I thought you're snuggle in your room watching Netflix." Doyoung seems taken aback when he sees you taking a water bottle from the table. Doyoung is one of Jaehyun's closest friend. "Oh Doyoung! Yes, I'm here with Taeyong. Where's Jaehyun I haven't seen him." you hopefully ask Jae's closest friend "I miss him and want to see him." Doyoung throws his eyes away from you to scan the room, "I saw him earlier when I came, but we haven't bumped each other again." You shrug the uncomfortable feeling in your heart aside. Something felt wrong, but no you don't want to trust your instinct, not in your state where you have drunk some of the colourful drinks there. "Okay tell me if you see him, tell him I'm here, he hasn't read my text." you wave your hand and make your way back to the sofa. The night deepens and you have wandered through the big crowded living room and the pool, but there was no sight of Jaehyun. "Yong have you seen Jae?" you give up looking for him and decide to just ask people around. Taeyong is seating in the big sofa with his friends, talking about joining a rap battle. He looks decent, he must not drink much since he's not a good drinker. Taeyong shakes his head. Mark and Lucas also shook their head. "Try the second floor." Yangyang suggests, you cock your head there is a second floor? "The stairs are accessed from outside," the young man explains before you can ask him. You smile, "Thanks!" and quickly rush to the stairs outside the house. Weird construction, but oh well you make it to the top and there are rooms inside. You carefully walk and put your head into the empty rooms, your heart is beating fast somehow as you inch to the last three doors where one of them is locked. You press your ear to the last door and your eyebrows rise in surprise. No, you're not supposed to be hearing this, there is someone having their private time. You want to move away but a pleasured scream a name you've been looking for the rest of the night stops you in track. You clearly hear a woman screaming "Jaehyun" in the most sinful way. You take a peek from the keyhole and clasp your hand over your mouth. Breathing is hard and you hold back the tears that are trying to escape your eyes as you make your way down. You bump into Taeyong who's on his way to check if you're good and he knows something bad happened up there that you're running over him crying. Taeyong runs to catch after you, he lost you in the crowd but soon finds you in the kitchen, serving yourself a big cup from the punch bowl. He shakes his head, knowing this isn't going to end well. "Stop! Enough! You're killing yourself" Taeyong forcefully grabs the red cup away from your mouth, your eyes are wet and you're already a broken-hearted sobbing mess. He throws the cup away and holds both of your hands so you cannot reach anything else. You're crying, his heart hurts seeing you like this. "He cheated." was all your lips mumble before you plant your face on his chest to cry your heart out. Taeyong awkwardly places his hand on your back and runs it slowly over your back, calming you down. "I think we can go back home?" he asks nicely, though he will do it even when you did not want to. You just nod your head and thanks to Mark's kind heart he and Lucas drive the two of you back home since it's faster and safer that way. Taeyong thanks his friends and quickly brings you back to the room. You slump on the couch, head too heavy to sit down and Taeyong is busy making you a cup of water. He makes you drink the water and lets you calm down a bit. You're crying and Tae is just there offering you his shoulder. It lasts for a while, his shoulder is cold from your tears but his heart is burning with anger towards that specific man who broke your heart. "You're right I shouldn't have come." you slurred. "Jae cheated, I'm sure it was him, the voice was his." you rub your eyes. "You deserve better, way better. Now, may I suggest you lay down and sleep. Finish the problem tomorrow." "I should've dated you." you look at him with glazy eyes. Taeyong hides a small smile, "You're just drunk and heart broken." You shake your head, "I've been keeping this to myself, but I always hope I can see you as someone more than a friend or a brother." Taeyong feels the whole zoo in his stomach, he cannot deny it that he also likes you a bit more than friends, but he is not taking this time to confess. Not when you just discovered your man cheating, got drunk, and because he takes care after you, you're swooned. You roll on the sofa, "Don't hide it Tae, I know you care about me more than Jae actually cared about me." your eyes are teary again. Why can't you sense it earlier, Jae has been distant and a bit secretive than usual. "I'm glad I come to the party with you." Taeyong sighs and takes off his accessories, man he is fashionable. In your hazy state you chuckle, "Guess it was fated that you come tonight to save me." He runs a hand carefully on your red wet cheeks, "Good thing your mascara is waterproof, you don't look creepy or miserable." he teases and makes you laugh. The tension in the room is no longer thick and sad thanks to his crack joke. "Thank you Tae," you close your eyes and exhale the tight air in your lungs. "Don't mention it," he leans back to the sofa. You move and position yourself to lay your head on his lap. "Can I?" you ask before resting all your head there, Taeyong nods his head and you relax your body. He carefully cards your brown hair with his long fingers and slightly massages your scalp, "Go to sleep, will you? I'll make sure you're not choking. If you want to throw up, just punch or slap me." You cry again, this time feeling so grateful to have Taeyong, he wipes your tears and laugh at your soft heart. "You're really an angel sent for me." your cloudy mind is back and Tae can only laugh, tomorrow he might be the only one who remembers this sweet painful moment, yet he likes that better than this never happening. Your eyes turn heavy and you control your breathing sequence to match Taeyang’s calm one. With his hand sending soft pulse in your head, you make yourself to bed. Like his promise, he did not move away and is alert when you feel your stomach acting up in the middle of the night. He wakes up, brings you to walk to the restroom and after you crouch, he nicely holds your hair and massages your nape as you barf into the toilet bowl. You smile from your shoulder and Taeyong feels his heart clench, he pulls you close and wipes your mouth with a wet tissue. He offers you the mouthwash and you're super lucky to have him. You're clean and when you see his worried smile, you dive yourself into his embrace and Taeyong hugs you close in chest. He knows in that moment; you're made for him. He wants to be the one taking care of you and loving you with all his heart. He wants to pamper you with attention and affections. As of you, you know you're supposed to always believe your heart. It's been yelling Taeyong all the time, but you're blinded by Jaehyun. "You should go take some rest now." he carries you to your room and after you change into a comfy pyjamas he sends you a good night kiss. The next morning, Taeyong makes a hungover breakfast for you although he is ready to answer all of your questions in case you forgot what happened last night. You surprise him with a back hug and snuggles into his back, "Morning! Thank you for last night. I don't know what will happen if you're not there. Thanks for everything. I remember everything." you whisper and he smiles. Taeyong turns to hug you and ruffles your hair, "So, do I get the chance to flirt and win your heart?" You chuckle, "You do not need to flirt. You've won my heart since long time. But I like the offer." He bops your nose, "Sit down, breakfast is coming in your way." You feel a great warm feeling in your heart, it's like spring decided to plant their garden of flowers in your heart, not to suffocate you but to make you feel like you're in cloud 9. You can see your future with this man, breakfast and dinner with him and if you're lucky maybe some cute Taeyong junior and a carbon copy of yours too. "I am not letting you go off my grip again," Taeyong smirks, "I was a fool for letting Jae took your heart."

end. 

thank you for reading, how was it? (p≧w≦q) i hope you like it

[threeconsecutivefs]

Heather: Daichi x Reader

Ooh, first song fic.  Man i have like five drafts in store, why am I making another one.  

Summary:  You’ve been in love with Daichi since your third year, but the love is unreciprocated.  Things go south and you’re left alone.

Warnings: Angsty, jealousy? hell yeah.  Like, one curse word.

Notes:  I think it’s gender neutral.  If it’s not, just tell me!  Also, there are weird things in the midst of them.  Don’t want you to get too sad :)

(I want to just sit in his lap and be embraced by all of his 4 thicc limbs... no more, no less.)

Word Count: 1.8K words, 9.4 characters.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

╔═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╗

I still remember

Third of December

Me in your sweater

You said it looked better

On me, than it did you

╚═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╝

“(Y/N), aren’t you cold?”  Daichi asked as we walked home one autumn evening as he began to slide his bag off.  “Where’s your coat?” 

“I didn’t think practice would go on for so long, Daichi.  If I did, I would have definitely brought a sweater.  And before you say I should have gone home, I... kinda got mesmerized by your practice.”  I smiled softly at him with my arms holding each other.

“Here,” He took his team jacket off and draped it upon my body. “I’ll walk you back to your place.  You can give it back to me when we get there.”

I blushed and grinned while sliding my arms through the jacket.  It was already warm, and I could have just fell asleep in the middle of the road.  The jacket should have smelled sweaty, but in reality, it smelled really nice.

“It looks really good on you,”  He smiled down on me as he patted my head. “Better than it does on me if I do say so myself.”

Only if you knew

How much I liked you

I know he doesn’t see me the way I see him because it’s blatantly obvious when I see him look at her.

╔═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╗

But I watch your eyes, as she

Walks by

What a sight for

Sore eyes

Brighter than a

Blue sky

She's got you

Mesmerized

While I die

╚═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╝

“Kageyama and Hinata are really getting better and better every pra-”  He paused and stared at the doorway, and none other than Yui Michimiya, the girl who has him smiling whenever she walks by.  As he moseys on over to her, I can’t help to feel a twinge of sadness.  He’ll drop everything for her.  She likes him too.  From the way she gets flustered around him or connects with him through volleyball,  it’s as plain as daylight.

I tuck my head into my arms because he likes her, and she likes him.  It’s the perfect scenario.  But slowly inside, I can’t help but wish to be in her place.

╔═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╗

Why would you ever kiss me?

I'm not even half, as pretty

You gave her your sweater

It's just polyester, but you like her better

╚═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╝

Why should I feel so heartbroken?  It’s not like I’ve ever been an option.  She has charm, looks, and everything else I don’t.  Now when we go have lunch, she joins, and they both look 70 times happier.  He’s not as stern and she’s not as awkward anymore.  They suit each other.

We become friends, and the three of us hang out together all the time.  But now there’s only one sweater for two people.  I shouldn’t have expected the special treatment to continue.  The two of them become less flustered around each other as their chemistry continues to grow.  It was only a matter of time before it was them on the bike and me in the sidecar.  (A/N: This is giving me Hagrid’s motorbike vibes, and now I can’t stop laughing.)

“Michimiya, are you chilly?” Daichi asks in his deep and caring voice as he slides his jacket off of his shoulders.  “You should have dressed warmly today, it’s barely even 50 ºF(10 ºC).”

“I’ll be fine!  Won’t you be cold too? I don’t want you catching a cold before your practice game tomorrow”  She looks up at him and smiles, but as a breeze slowly makes its way through us, she shivers.  

He covers her with his jacket, zippering it up so she can’t move her arms.  As she stomps her foot in fake frustration.  “Don’t worry about me, I’ll just jog home so I can keep myself warm.”  He grins and grabs the sleeves of the jacket as he drags her off into the distance. 

I stand there, watching the two as they run around and laugh, like a mother watching her child run off with a friend at the playground.  After spacing out for a moment, I sprint to catch up with them.

They reach her house, and they bid their goodbyes, but when she asks about his jacket, he tells her she can keep it.

I stand across the street, watching the scene play down as I begin to amble back home.  He was so much kinder to her.  Letting her keep his jacket hurt more than it should have.  I tell myself that it’s just an act of kindness, no more, no less, but deep down, I know otherwise.

Wish I were Heather

╔═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╗

Watch as she stands with

Her holding your hand

Put your arm 'round her shoulder

Now I'm getting colder

╚═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╝

Two years later, they begin dating.  There was never a time they were apart.  Daichi in the police academy and Yui in the local college.  We shared an apartment, two rooms, one for me, one for them.  On Fridays, we watched movies– or more like I watched movies.  They watched each other.  Sitting on the couch with your arm resting on her shoulders and her hand in yours.  I sat on the ottoman at the side of the room.  If he was happy, so was I, no matter how much I yearned to be in her place.

╔═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╗

But how could I hate her?

She's such an angel

But then again, kinda

Wish she were dead, as she

╚═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╝

 She’s wonderful in every way.  Her smile, her laugh, what’s not to like.  They’re in love, and I can’t do anything about it.  She super sweet and caring to me, even though we don’t talk all too much.  I can’t help but smile around her too, but at the same time, I wish she was dead.

“(Y/N)?  You there?” Daichi calls through my door.  “Lunch is ready if you’re hungry.” He knocks on the door again.

Curled up in my bed, I smile at the sound of his voice while tears roll down my face.  I sit up and wipe the tears off my face, but when I try to reply, I’m barely able to choke out my words to him, “Mmhmm... I’m coming.”  Gazing at the rain dripping down the window, I sniffle and get up in order to go eat, but before I can do that, Daichi comes in, only to see me looking miserable

“Hey, hey... are you ok?”  He questions, walking over to sit next to me on the bed. “You look like you’ve been crying for the past hour.  You never come out to spend time with us.” As he brings me closer to his chest, I can’t help but feel worse inside because it’s obvious that he sees this only as a platonic action.

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I responded, pulling myself away from him.  Unfortunately, that triggers the inner dad in him and he continues to push me to tell him.

 “I don’t want to tell you!”

“It’ll make you feel better, bottling your emo-”

“OK FINE! Fine. I’ll tell you.”  I snap and stand up abruptly.  Daichi stares with wide eyes, taken aback by my sudden actions.

“I love you... So much.”  I plop on the floor, “And not like a platonic, ‘We’re friends, and we love each other as friends.’ kinda thing.  It’s gotten to the point where I can’t stop feeling hurt whenever you’re with her” Cue the frantic handwaving, “And I know you don’t feel the same way, it’s been obvious since our third year.  Wow...  heh... this felt really good to let out.”

Daichi is beyond stunned, almost as if he was told that he was going to a father.  I couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly at him.

“I- I... WHAT?”  His eyes were practically popping out of his head, and honestly, that was probably the best reaction he could have given me.  But as soon as he said that, he walked out of my room, and closed the door behind him.  

A couple of days passed, and he didn’t say much, even if I tried to crack a couple of jokes.  (Insert this face)

“I mean, it’s not like you need it more than Oscar the Grouch does” 

“Mmm”

I began to crumple even more because of this.  After a week, he had done enough for me to realize he didn’t want to talk to me.  Movie night?  Sitting with Yui in a passionate kiss.  Lunch?  A discussion of their day.  Hangouts?  I wasn’t invited.  If I chimed in, I was ignored.  

I might as well be on a show called, “What Not To Do When:  Confession Edition” 

(Gonna cut the song short here)

╔═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╗

Wish I were Heather

Wish I were Heather

╚═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╝

Fury flowed through my veins as I punched the pillow laying on the couch.  

“I WISH I WERE HER.  FREAKING PERFECT IN EVEN IF SHE FUCKS SOMETHING UP.  NO MATTER WHAT SHE DOES, IT’S WONDERFUL.  I TELL HIM ONE THING- GODDAMMIT.  GODDAMMIT, GODDAMMIT, GODDammit...”  My voice trailed off as I saw Daichi standing at the door.  With tears flowing down my face, I look at the man as he looks at me with the same face he did when I told him.  

“Why do you look at me like that?  Why is it that every time that we even remotely interact with each other you look at me like that?  It’s like you never expected this to happen!”  I wipe my tears with my sleeve and storm up to him. “Why isn’t it plain as day?  You EXPECT me to be perfectly fine after days- DAYS of you looking at me like a stranger and ignoring everything I say?  That’s not how I work, and you know that!  I told you I didn’t want to tell you, and you poked and prodded at me to tell you, and when I told you, you left.”  I weakly punched him in the chest. “I wish I were her.  I wish you would look at me like you do at her.  But that’s never going to happen because you’re infatuated by her.”

╔═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╗

Why would you ever kiss me?

I'm not even half as pretty

You gave her your sweater

It's just polyester, but you like her better

Wish I were

╚═══*.·:·.✧    ✦    ✧.·:·.*═══╝

“Why would you ever do that? There’s no reason for you to because all I am is a pebble beside you.  I don’t even exist at this point to you.  I wish I were-”  Daichi stepped out of the way to show her standing behind him.

“Yui.”

(A/N: I had no idea how to end thisssss.  I’m dying rn.)

(Masterlist) (Part 2)

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Death Takes a Holiday” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Azrael and Raphael are stuck trying to give relationship advice to a woman stuck in a literal Hallmark Christmas Movie, but she's just not getting the message. Raphael is having the time of his existence, but Azrael isn't too sure how much more Christmas cheer he can take. (2257 words)

Notes: Written for @theantichristmaszine 2020, and inspired by @dianacrimsonia's Ineffable Opposites au where Aziraphale is Azrael, the Angel of Death, and Crowley is the Archangel Raphael. Diana's art for this fic can be seen on their Insta: dianacrimsonia. Please go give them all the love :)

Read on AO3.

“So let me get this straight …” Azrael plants both hands on the table, staring down in frustration at the starry-eyed red-head in front of him “… you’re prepared to leave it all, your entire life, everything you’ve built from the ground up on this miserable cesspool of a planet … for love?”

A smile, serene in its decision, content with a shiny vision of the future, answers him before a single word slips past perky, coral-tinted lips. “Yes. I am.”

Azrael slaps the wood as he pushes himself upright. “That’s rubbish, that is.”

An amused tilt of the head sends crimson curls spilling over a narrow shoulder. “How can you possibly believe that? How can you go through life not realizing that love is the greatest God-given force in the universe?”

“How did he get you to do it? Hmm?” Azrael asks, purposefully dodging the question. “You’ve been here, what? Three days? A week tops? What magical spell did he cast that would lead you to make such an asinine decision?”

“Well … we went on a hayride,” manicured fingers count off, “we went Christmas tree shopping, watched the candy puller make candy canes, listened to carolers ... Oh! We had hot chocolate and then ...” A pause, followed by a dreamy sigh “… he kissed me. At this cafe. Right here at this picnic table, as a matter of fact.”

Azrael jerks his hands off the table top as if burned, scowling at the bench beneath his bent right knee as if it were diseased. “We had hot chocolate and then he kissed me,” he mimics, dreamy sigh and all. “You are, without a doubt, the most insufferable creature I have ever met! And if you had a clue who I play Pinochle with on Thursday nights, you’d know that that’s saying something.”

“In her defense, the hot chocolate here is very good,” Raphael offers, taking a careful sip of the steaming liquid in his own Frosty the Snowman mug.

Azrael’s eyes shift away from the infuriating woman sitting in front of him to the equally infuriating angel seated down the bench from him. “Please enlighten me, sunshine, on how you keep getting us into these unsavory situations.”

Raphael raises his eyes, countering Azrael’s glare with a mischievous grin as a rousing rendition of Jingle Bells - Azrael’s least favorite Christmas tune of all time - begins from out of nowhere. “I read. A lot.”

“I may have to confine your literary resources to picture books from now on.”

“We’re here because we’re needed,” Raphael explains to his unamused companion. “Obviously there’s something we need to accomplish. A message we need to send. It’s kind of what angels do during the holidays.”

“Seeing as we’re stuck in a movie on what’s apparently called The Hallmark Channel,” Azrael divines, squinting at a golden emblem that follows them around like a puppy no matter where they go, “I would say that part is accurate.” He turns back to the woman who has done nothing since the moment his attentions went elsewhere, as if she only exists when he’s interacting with her. And even though he’s an Angel of Death, regarded as one of the spookiest, most sinister omens in all of recorded history, it creeps him out.

“Does he have any investments?” Azrael implores, returning to their lost cause. “A retirement plan? A 401K?”

Sara shakes her head.

“Does he at least collect commemorative plates!?”

“Those things aren’t important to him,” she announces superiorly. “Besides, I have enough money socked away to take care of the both of us. We’ll want for nothing, as long as we have …”

“Love. Yeah. I get it. Probably what he’s counting on, the leech. Man almighty,” Azrael grumbles, running a hand down his face in frustration. “Unbelievable! This dillhole should be working downstairs with us!”

“Simon doesn’t want to raise his son around a den of corporate greed!” Sara argues passionately.

“Really?” Azrael scoffs. “What about a den of good schools and culture? Does he believe in those things?”

“All we need is love.”

“What you need, lady, I can’t seem to say out loud.”

“That’s because this movie is rated PG,” Raphael interjects. “You can’t curse here.”

“Pity. Give me exactly five seconds and I’ll make their ratings go through the roof.”

“More like in the toilet. Guidelines for these movies are extremely strict.” Raphael stirs his cocoa, staring wistfully into his cup. “Darling? You do believe in the power of love, don’t you?” he asks, a deep, abiding concern coloring his voice.

“Of course I believe in the power of love!” Azrael stares up at the too bright, too blue sky, mentally venting using every four-letter word he can think up. “But sometimes the power of stupidity is stronger!” He sighs, so long and hard it deserves its own backstory. “Look, lady, love is grand and all, but so is carving a name for yourself and being able to make your condo payments!”

“Love will provide,” is the only reply she gives him.

“This is a nightmare!” Azrael groans, taking a seat opposite his angel and burying his face in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Raphael says, gaining a chipper lilt and a gleeful little wiggle. “I’m having a grand time!”

“Yes, well, you’ve eaten seven Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer cookies, drunk three mugs of cocoa, and you bought a quilt!”

“It’s Amish! Hand stitched! Did you see the craftsmanship?”

“You won’t be able to take it with you,” Azrael points out in a taunting, sing-song way.

“The Hell I won’t,” Raphael murmurs, diving into the mound of marshmallows swimming at the top of his mug.

“This Holy Holiday Messenger gig is all well and good, but did you really have to go and get us stuck in an American movie?”

“I had no control over that, love. But look on the bright side (for you) - we’re not going to be here forever.”

“No?” Azrael blows out an incredulous breath through tightly pursed lips, producing a rude sound that turns a few heads. “It’s only going to feel like it.”

“The spell will wear off in twenty-four hours, I assure you. Which should give us plenty of time to …”

Azrael cuts Raphael off with a look that could melt lead. Raphael puts his hands up in surrender.

“Fine. Here - let me give it a go. Maybe all this needs is a touch of Grace.” Raphael scoots closer to Sara, who’s gazing blankly at a tall, overly decorated tree, with moony eyes. “Look, dear, as much as I hate to admit it, my gloomy but pragmatic friend is right.”

Sara turns on him, glaring like he just spit in her cocoa. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Azrael says. “Excuse me?”

“It seems as though you have just as much wrapped up in your life in New York as your young man does in his daydream of fixing up a run down horse ranch that he doesn’t even have the capital to purchase yet. If I were you, I would go home, back to your life and your job. And either the two of you work things out apart and see how it goes, or find someone whose ideals better line up with yours. Someone who is worthy of you, who wouldn’t ask you to give up everything to live here with him. Because love - true love, the kind of love that lasts - doesn’t come from the sacrifices others ask you to make. It’s about the sacrifices you’re willing to make for others, freely and unsolicited.”

Sara stares open-mouthed at the traitor sitting beside her. But as aghast as she appears, there’s a moment when both Raphael and Azrael think a light bulb has gone off. She’ll agree with them, thank them for their time and their sage advice, then be off, winging her way back to NYC. But after a few blinks, she slowly shakes her head, tsking with every turn of her neck. “You guys just don’t understand the meaning of Christmas.”

Raphael shrugs and slides back to his original seat. “Guess not.”

“Don’t fret, my pet,” Azrael teases. “You tried your best. Guess it wasn’t a matter of Grace after all. There’s no getting through to her, is there?”

“We don’t need to,” Raphael says, reconvening with his cocoa.

Azrael frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the person who needed that message has heard it, and has changed their mind about giving up everything for someone who isn’t willing to meet them half way.”

“Who was it?” Azrael asks, sweeping his gaze around, trying to spot the love lost soul in question.

“Someone out there.” Raphael gestures off to his right. “A real life person out in television land.”

Azrael grins at this turn of events, giddy with relief. “That’s … that’s wonderful! Now we can get the Heaven out of here!”

“Uh … n-no.” Raphael fidgets sheepishly with his mug. “I-I’m afraid we’re stuck here for the full twenty-four hours.”

“Wha---? How!? How can that be!? We fulfilled the requirements of the spell, didn’t we!?”

“Y-yes, but …”

“I know the rules behind these ultimatum locked spells! Once you fulfill your duty, then …” Struck by a sudden realization, Azrael turns wide, scolding eyes on his angel. “Raphael! What did you …?”

“I’m sorry, dear! But when I felt the spell start to pull us out, I just … shrugged it off!”

“But I didn’t shrug it off! How come I didn’t leave?”

“Funny thing that.” Raphael giggles nervously, peeking up at Azrael through glittering lashes. “I sort of … overrode it.”

“Raphael!”

“Azrael! It’s Christmas! I have been trying and trying to get you to take time off and go away with me! This twenty-four hours outside of time could be a holiday for us! Look at all the neat stuff they have planned!” Raphael snaps up a festively decorated flier. “Apple cider tasting, cookie decorating, a peppermint eating contest … and look! A Mistletoe Forest! Do you know what that means?”

Azrael crosses his arms over his chest. “It means this entire town has a huge fungus problem?”

“It’s a forest covered in mistletoe! Mist-le-toe!” Raphael repeats as if talking to a stubborn toddler. “You know … if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Parasites?”

“No.” Raphael wraps a glimmering curl coyly around one slender finger. “I was thinking more along the lines of dozens of hidden corners to get caught under and kiss.”

“My star …” Azrael inches closer, lowering his voice in the hopes that only his love will hear him “… if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask. In fact, you don’t have to say a word. Just look my way and bat those golden eyelashes of yours. I’ll kiss you anywhere you want, wherever you want,” he emphasizes with a cheeky bounce of his eyebrows. “We don’t need mistletoe for that.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Raphael breathes in deep, exhales long. “If you want to leave, I’ll understand. I’m sure that I can summon a portal and send you back to your mortuary. Your grim, dreary, lonely mortuary, with that single, sad wreath on the door …”

Raphael sniffs theatrically.

Azrael rolls his eyes.

“Would spending the day here make you happy?” Azrael asks with the enthusiasm of someone about to have teeth pulled sans anesthetic in preparation for a lengthy root canal. “Really happy?”

“Yes,” Raphael answers hopefully, sparkling a vibrant gold like the nebula he is. “Effervescently.”

“I can see that,” Azrael mutters. “All right.” He drops down onto the hard bench, level with Raphael’s beaming gaze, and despite this whole headache, he smiles. What can he say? He loves to see his starshine happy. “Finish your cocoa and come along. We have a PG rating to tank.”

“Ooo! Is that one of your fantasies? Whisking me off to the woods like a cad and having your way with me?” Raphael asks, blithely misreading Azrael’s mood. Too eager to be on their way, he snaps his fingers, transforming his snowman mug into an argyle-printed Thermos to transport his cocoa in. He wouldn’t want to waste good cocoa. Real or not, it’s way too tasty to leave behind. “Oh! Shall I change into a dress? I know! Something Victorian! With a red-trimmed corset and …!”

Azrael catches Raphael’s hand before he can snap his fingers again.

“Raphael! You are a strong, fiercely independent archangel! I would not think to insult you by acting out a fantasy that employs such a flawed and sexist stereotype!”

“Oh,” Raphael squeaks, equal parts stunned by Azrael’s response as disappointed, causing his shimmer to dim. “Oh, I apologize. Yes. Yes, I see your point. I …”

Azrael brings Raphael’s hand to his mouth, a wicked grin spreading his lips as he kisses Raphael’s knuckles one at a time, stopping to swirl the tip of his tongue on the soft web of skin in between, making Raphael’s glow go from brilliant to blinding. “That said - yes. Yes, it is. So please, if you don’t mind … wear the dress.”

***

The Hallmark Channel movie ‘Death Takes a Holiday’, which network execs couldn’t recall green lighting, not a single director remembered directing, nor likewise any of the writers recalled writing, was so insanely popular that, by virtue of a voracious, fan-led letter writing campaign, it ran for three weeks into the New Year, and prompted a sequel for Valentine’s - ‘Death Takes a Spouse’.

[musicnoots]

Maybe Today, Maybe Forever

Joe Toye/Reader

Prompt “God, your eyes are gorgeous” and “Why are you embarassed? You’re beautiful. Don’t you see that?”

A/N: joe toye deserves all the love send tweet

Synopsis: Ten minutes before an Easy Company reunion is scheduled to begin, Joe suddenly doesn’t want to go.

Tags: @gottapenny @floydtab @those-dusty-jump-wings @yeahcurrahee @dumpofdumblings @bandofmarvels @medievalfangirl @junojelli @curraheev @wexhappyxfew @evelyn-shelby @alienoresimagines @majwinters @inglourious-imagines @david-weepster @not-john-watsons-blog @meteora-fc @rayleighshughes @dustyjjumpwings

When you pull up to the venue, you find him staring out of the passenger side window. 

You and Joe made the trip down to Philly for an Easy Company reunion. The invitation came in the mail on a rainy Sunday afternoon, scribbled in black ink, you read him the contents of the letter as he laid his head to rest on your shoulder. Of course, Joe couldn’t say no after seeing it from Bill Guarnere himself. 

In the years after the war had ended, you and Joe had married, built a home, and found love that didn’t involve changing anything but realizing that you loved him just as much as when you were both miserable in a hole in the dirt, but he never reached out to any of his brothers of war. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was that he didn’t know how to. 

He’s been waiting for this moment since he’d been carted off to the aid station—he spent all week gushing about how great everyone’s gonna look, how the boys are gonna shit biscuits when they find out that you two actually ended up together, he even went to go pick out a new tie at the department store. Every evening, he’ll ask you what you think Don or George have been up to, or sometimes he’ll ponder with you, making up post-war scenarios for his friends because they deserved only the best that life has to offer.

He spent at least forty minutes getting himself ready in front of the mirror. Cold shower, combing his hair again and again, he asked you to fix his tie maybe three times before taking your hand and leading out the door to the car where he smiled brighter than the gold material of your wedding ring.

But when you finally arrive, ten minutes before it’s set to begin, he’s a completely different person.

“Joe?”

Your eyebrows knitted, and your hands slowly slipped off of the steering wheel.

Your husband, previously jumping around like a jelly bean, fell as silent as the ghosts do. He fiddles with his fingers in his lap, he doesn’t look at you. You think you’ve done something wrong, said something wrong that you didn’t realize that just...killed the happiness inside of him. 

You try again. “Joe, baby—“ your voice is as soft as when he wakes up in cold sweat in the quiet hours of the night, “we’re here. Look,” you point at the open doors of the venue, “they’re in there.”

“I know.”

The tone of his voice is familiar, you hadn’t heard it as the years passed by and the demons hiding behind the flower vases left without a proper goodbye, but you’re cautious. 

“You okay?” You reach over to touch his arm, and he flinches.

You retract your hand. You know how to care for him in a situation like this, you just didn’t expect it to happen right before an Easy Company reunion. The pieces just don’t add up—Joe had been excited the entire week, he sang the songs he and Don used to sing back in Toccoa, he spent money on a nice tie and jacket to look nice for the boys, but all of the sudden, the spark is gone. 

Joe notices when you pull your hand away, he sees the disquiet take over your features, and it’s Christmas morning, 1945 all over again. “I’m sorry,” he says. He moves away from the window and avoids eye contact with you, instead, staring down his hands. “I...I was just wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“W-What are they gonna think when they see...this?” He gestures up and down his body like he was referring to an object rather than a breathing human being, you furrow your eyebrows when you watch the way he motions towards his body like that—it makes you upset not because how dare he throw away years of learning to love his skin but it makes you upset knowing that he thinks people will think of him differently for the way he looks. “I only have one leg, Y/N. I walk with crutches, I don’t have a job, they’re gonna look at me all weird and shit, and I’m gonna have to explain everything that happened…I shoulda stayed home.”

Ah. You’re beginning to understand what he’s feeling. “No, Joe. No, no, no, the people waiting for us inside, the boys we trained and fought with side-by-side in another continent, they could never look at you differently.”

“But my leg—“ his hand runs over the stump, “don’t I look weird without it?”

Joe is insecure. You know that, but it doesn’t impact the way you love him because you’ll happily tell him everyday about how much you love him for him, not his leg. “No, all I see is the handsomest man in all of Pennsylvania.”

“Y/N,” he whines because it’s not the answer he’s looking for, “I do look weird! You already know the weird stares I get when we go out, so how am I supposed to explain to them—how am I supposed to look at them in the eyes like I didn’t get my leg blown off in Belgium? Hm?” He raises his voice, but you know he’s not angry at you. He’s angry at himself.

The answer is simple. “You don’t have to. You’re not obliged to explain yourself to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“What am I gonna say to Bill?”

“You didn’t do anything to him, Joe. He saved your life because you’re his friend. He doesn’t hate you, he could never.”

“But...what am I supposed to do when they look at me, and they look at me like they’ve never even seen me before?”

“You sure that’s gonna happen?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his neck, “yeah. I don’t got no leg—I look weird, they probably don’t recognize me anymore.” His shoulders roll back, and he looks defeated in a battle he never even saw coming in the first place. “I don’t think I’m the same man they liked back in Georgia, England, even.”

It astounds you to hear that Joe doesn’t think that he’s loved.

He is loved. So, so much by not only you but the people that surround his life with good memories he’ll remember to the ripe old age of seventy.

He acts like you don’t repeatedly ask the angels if you can bring him when you go to heaven. He acts like he doesn’t hear you tell him how beautiful he is every morning over the bathroom sink, how grateful that you’re living in a world where he is your sun. He acts like you didn’t marry him two weeks after you came home, in a wedding that the both of you could barely afford, blue hydrangeas pinned on his jacket and the smell still lingers in your home years after.

“Hell, Joe,” you whisper, “I didn’t fall in love with your legs, I fell in love with you. We all did.”

He tries to put forth a rebuttal, but when his finger grazes the wedding band on your finger, he remembers the wedding—when you spoke the words of angels that evicted the demons in his head for good.

Joe cried when you showed up on his doorstep the day you came home because, in the weeks and months after Belgium, he firmly believed that you didn’t want him anymore. He didn’t think you wanted a man who’s missing a piece of himself literally, but the moment you showed up and crashed into his open arms, he no longer questions your love for him but cherishes it as much as the tattoo of your name he got on his bicep all those years ago in Aldbourne.

In the end, Joe doesn’t hate himself, but he’s ashamed for creating such discourse with you about his leg of all things.

“I...I’m just embarrassed.” 

“Why are you embarrassed?” You take his hands in yours. “You’re beautiful. Don’t you see that?”

He shakes his head, and it hurts a little to see him so blind of his beauty. He isn’t his wounds, he is so much more than that, and however many times you have to tell him, you’ll do it without a question.

Joe tries to avoid your gaze by trying to fix his tie, undoing it, and staggering movements as his fingers struggle to put it back together.

You’ve learned to wait until he realizes he can't do it on his own. Patience is something the both of you have been working on, and it’s times like these where it comes in handy whether it comes to helping him with his ties or helping him see the beauty that resides somewhere beneath his skin.

“Can you...can you help me?” It’s soft and saccharine, shy. 

“Of course, anything for the handsomest man in Pennsylvania.” You smile and lean across the glovebox to get a better angle. You can feel him loom over you, fingertips holding onto your waist—he’s staring. “You know, you have beautiful eyes.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” you breathe, flipping the collar down and coming up to meet his eyes, hand on his cheek. “God, you have gorgeous eyes.”

He smiles back, only growing bigger when you kiss his forehead and then his cheek. Joe is just as gorgeous as he was back then—his coffee brown eyes, those cheekbones, and the gravity defying grip of his hands holding you close, though, you’d like to be closer. Nothing about his leg changes anything because he’s always been the Joe Toye who fell hard for you back when you crawled through pig guts and had you acting foolish like you seventeen. He has always been the man you loved and will love for a million years more.

And you know he’s grateful to have you by his side everyday, beyond the years he’s guaranteed on this Earth. “Thank you,” he says, and he captures your hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. “Can we go in now?”

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

[ask-the-crimson-king]

Tales from D&D: The Campfire Song Song

[It is I, your friendly neighborhood Hermit back with another tale from D&D. And this one is... Certainly a saga. LONG POST AHOY.

IT IS ONCE AGAIN FROM MY CURSE OF STRAHD CAMPAIGN! The characters, in brief, are:

AETERNUS -- Goliath wild soul barbarian, played more like a golem than a goliath. Stoic, remembers almost nothing of his past. ARAZEL -- Blood angel (aasimar x tiefling hybrid) bard, has a patron because he used to be a Warlock and the player wanted to keep the patron. Very much a Bard. Has tamed a fucking dire wolf who is now named Boris. He is a good boy. LEON -- Human time domain cleric, worships a god of time called Tempus. Old retired soldier sent out into the world because his god has plans for him. CALEB -- Vampire desperado gunslinger, a vampire hunter who wants revenge against the creatures who turned him and killed his family. 

In the last session, the players had made it to the Old Bonegrinder and met the three hags living there. Thanks to a Fifth Nat 1, the hags became hostile because Arazel mentioned how he had a pet dire wolf and the hags thought he was sent by Strahd. 

I told them at the beginning of this one,  “If you can talk your way out of this encounter, I’ll let you level up right now instead of waiting for Friday.”

What the fuck happens right after I say that?

Arazel fucking crits on persuasion and the party is now LEVEL FOUR! HURRAY!

Caleb is dealing with the two sisters upstairs, his gun is mentioned, and then Arazel’s player says, and I quote,

Arazel had also purchased a pastry, and Aeternus ends up charging upstairs and Arazel turns to him and says, "Hey Pebbles, eat this okay?" Aeternus made the con save, so instead of having weird dream visions, he instead felt this weird sense of nostalgia that he cant place his finger on. Seeing the cakes were safe, the rest of the party all pay for a cake themselves and they all. fail. the save.

So they get to fall into a pleasant, dreamlike state, for 1d4+4 hours... and OF COURSE I roll a 4. So eight hours of them being in this trance. Arazel, Leon, and Caleb, all conked the hell out. Which meant Aeternus was alone with this Night Hag who was now cackling. 

And so he asked the witch what was in the cakes, and she simply said “some very rare and exotic ingredients. it is an acquired taste.” aeternus then took many hints, scooped everyone up, and left with Ismark (Kolyana and Ireena were waiting outside in a cart, not trusting that place one bit, but Ismark went in to help guard the party and keep an eye on Caleb.) 

They run back to the cart and Kolyana is asking what happened. Aeternus explains the situation with the cakes, and Kolyana then facepalms. He says,

"You didn't eat any, did you?" "I did, why?" "Those are dream cakes. they're popular in Vallaki -- you'll see why." "I do not dream." "Everyone dreams, my boy. daydreams, plans for the future, or-" "I have nothing to dream about."  The cart goes quiet before Ismark speaks up. "What do you mean?" Aeternus then says, "I remember nothing but war from my past." "A miserable existence, then." "Heh, makes you sound like a barovian," Kolyana says with a snicker. "We're all miserable bastards." 

More silence. 

"You really don't remember anything?" Ismark then asks. "Nothing but war." Aeternus shakes his head. "How old are you?" "... I do not know. I have been wandering for some time, but I know I am quite old." "I don’t remember any wars in our recent history. You don’t seem to be old enough for any of those." "Definitely not," Kolyana agrees. The cart is silent, and Aeternus goes quiet.

Hours pass, and the cart is pulled off to the side of the road. Ireena and Valerie, a Vistana woman they had met, (who owned the cart), go off to build a fire, while the rest stay back in order to wait for the others to come out of their trances. 

When they do awaken, the world is darker. More grim, more miserable. The mists seem to cling to them, and they long to be back in their dreams.

Arazel awakes with a start, drawing out his magic string and wrapping it around Leon's neck while a thin knife hovers at Caleb's throat. Kolyana, Ismark, and Aeternus all stand to try and apprehend him as he asks, "What the HELL happened to me?" "You were dreaming," Aeternus tells him. "We didn’t do anything to you." "Put the weapons away, you're around friends here," Ismark says, his sword half out of its sheath. Slowly, Arazel backs down, checking his wings to see if any feathers are out of place. Boris looks up at him expectantly, and Arazel takes him to the fire as the rest of the party files out of the cart.

They all go and head down to the fireplace, and enjoy a nice thick stew. Some of the vegetables are freshly picked from the lands around them, although they are thick mountain-dwelling plants. They are a bit higher up in elevation, though more surrounded by foothills instead of mountains. 

They enjoy their dinner and Kolyana asks them what they saw in their visions. Leon goes first, recalling his home. recalling the people he loved, the community fostered, everything. It felt warm. It felt safe. But that wasn't here anymore. Kolyana gave him a small reassuring pat on the shoulder before Arazel spoke up.

"I saw my mother." "Your mother?" Aeternus asks. "Okay, well, here's the thing. My mother was this holy angel, and my father was a damned and hated tiefling. And my father kinda dipped on me when i was younger. My mother served a very holy god who didn't want to be sullied with such a sinful abomination," he then gestures to himself, "and so my mum had to leave me." "Wait, wait, your mom left you because her god said so?" Caleb asks. "Well yeah but I mean I get it. if she didn't then she would've lost her powers, and-" "That’s pretty selfish of her." Caleb shrugs. "sorry, man." "Not really. I’m sure any parent would do that." "I can tell you, as a father myself, I would never do that to my children. No matter who the god was. I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kolyana tells him, giving Arazel a meaningful look.

“And what about you, vampire?” the old man asks. “What did you see?”

"I saw my home. I saw the old homestead. I saw my parents, and my siblings. It was nice." Before Kolyana responds, a conspiracy of ravens descends from the sky. one lands on each of Aeternus' shoulders, cawing.  The three Barovians all gasp. 

"What fantastic luck," Kolyana mutters. Arazel is tempted to have Boris pounce on them, but Kolyana quickly says "DO NOT ATTACK THEM! That would bring nothing but doom and misfortune. Ravens are symbols of good luck, not evil. At least not here." 

Arazel shrugs, and tosses a piece of his stew at them. They caw and hop off the giant's shoulders, peck at the food, then flutter off into the night. The party all decides to settle in for the night, and this comes my FAVORITE fucking part of the session;

Dream Chats with Strahd!

(Yes I’m bending the lore a bit but it’s for the rule of cool okay)

I bring each of the players into the Special Corner (Discord call, we have a D&D voice chat and then Special Corner for 1-on-1 with the DM) one by one.

First in was Arazel.

Arazel feels the presence of his patron. He feels a warm, golden glow about him, even if he cannot visualize Sanguinius himself. He soon finds himself within a hall. It seems to be that of a cathedral. Polished stone, nearly gleaming, is under his feet. But everything feels... a bit fuzzed out. Just barely out of focus. He sees a lectern at the end of this great hall, with, what 40k fans would recognize, as the BA symbol, inscribed into it.

And then he hears a very familiar voice, and sees a very familiar figure walk out from behind a pillar.

Familiar dark clothing, familiar face, familiar dark eyes. 

It is Strahd von Zarovich, and he has come for a chat. 

And he doesnt greet arazel with hostility. He says that he is impressed with this place of worship, and that he knows very little about Arazel’s patron. But he would love to learn more about him, and about Arazel himself. Arazel asks “why are you here?”

Strahd takes a sip from his glass before he says, “You and your compatriots all fascinate me. So I want to learn just a little more about you. How you think, what your morality is." He shrugs, and then explains that he does not have too much time to speak. An invitation will be given -- soon, though he does not know when -- and tells him it is within Arazel’s best interests to accept it. He wants to be able to have an open, honest chat with him and his friends.

He also asks that he does not discuss this meeting with anyone. A measure of trust. Arazel agrees, and Strahd disappears.

Next up, Caleb.

Caleb is dreaming of his homestead. He feels grass beneath his feet, but none of his family is here. Everything around him feels fuzzy, blurry. The only crisp image is of the homestead itself. Strahd appears to him as well, coming out of the homestead, and says similar things to what he told Arazel, namely the reason for his arrival and his interest in him and his friends. However, he also remarks on how similar the two of them are, referring to their shared vampiric nature. Caleb says,

"Actually we're probably very different. I think we became who we are through very different ways." 

Strahd agrees, but he offers a solution to Caleb's little bloodthirst-issue, (which luckily has been able to be curbed thanks to Leon being generous), and potentially knowledge about his abilities. Caleb recently gained the ability to be able to shift into bat form, and he thinks he may have other skills locked away.

An invitation is mentioned, along with the same condition. He cannot tell anyone of this meeting.

Caleb, begrudgingly, agrees. Strahd vanishes once more. Interestingly, Strahd does not mention how one of Caleb’s current goals is to go into van Richten’s tower to find the old hunter in order to find a way to kill Strahd. 

But we’ll get to that.

Then we go to Leon.

Leon appears within an old library. The books around him are nothing more than vague shapes, and there is a musty smell from the bookshelves. Ahead of him is a strange device, a piece of machinery made of many different concentric rings, which he realizes must represent the different planes of reality. It slowly moves, casting around shadows as an unknown light source dances around the room. This is a representation of how Tempus views reality and its many potential timelines, he realizes. Just a very, very simple model, but it resembles the one from his own church. 

Enter Strahd, a warm smile on his face.

“I’ve been waiting to speak with you for some time. You and I have much to discuss.”

Leon asks why he is here, and Strahd explains what he had told Caleb and Arazel -- though he also adds he wants to learn a little more about him, here and now. He wants to also extend the offer for Leon to learn more about Strahd himself in a sort of private talk, and expresses interest in learning more about Tempus and Leon's nature and relationship. He asks Leon to tell him a few things, and Leon agrees to tell him a bit about his past -- his life as a soldier, the village he had settled within, how he found Tempus, that sort of stuff. 

Then Leon cuts right to the point, saying, "Why are you really asking me this? I don’t like to associate with bad people."

"Well I wouldn’t call myself bad. I have made my mistakes, and I am no saint, but I’m not a horrible person." Strahd shrugs. "I ask because I’m fascinated by you. By all of you, honestly. You're quite the interesting little crew."

He mentions the invitation, but also gives a different message.

"I know Caleb is going to be going to van Richten's tower. I want you to stay behind in Vallaki when he does. I will send my invitation then. Our conversation will be a little more... private, for lack of a better term, then the one I shall have with all of you."

He gives the same terms -- that Leon cannot tell anyone of this meeting -- which Leon agrees to, and Strahd disappears once more.

Last but not least...

Aeternus.

Aeternus doesn't dream, but his mind does come to a daydreaming-state. He comes to one of the few scenes he remembers. A field, with the rubble of a broken house nearby. Nothing else is clear, or even blurred. It feels like he’s standing on the edge of a vast void.

Strahd appears once more, commenting on how grim this place was. Aeternus is on edge at the appearance of the vampire, but simply replies, "this is all I can remember."

"Oh, I know. All you remember is warfare. But even then, of no clear battle. Just fragments of death and misery. A shame, really." Strahd sighs. "I know of a way for you to begin remembering all you had lost. My libraries may hold some of the answers you seek, as do I."

Aeternus is quiet. Before he speaks, strahd smiles. 

"Petting that wolf made you remember something, didn't it? And the cake you ate? You remember something about a raven, too."

Aeternus is caught way off guard. Strahd has, somehow (rule of cool and plot reasons) gotten into his head. He goes on guard, but Strahd puts his hands up. 

"I can offer answers. I will be sending an invitation, soon. I do not know when. But I need to be able to trust you. Tell no one of this encounter." 

"How can i be able to trust you?" Aeternus responds with a grunt. One hand is on his axe. Strahd chuckles. "Caleb wants to go to van Richten's tower. Go with him. There is something waiting for you there." 

And then he disappears, and that is where the session ended.

[cooloddball]

DESTIEL AND COCKLES RANT

THIS IS A RANT ON ALL THINGS DESTIEL AND COCKLES

PS. I do not know how to make gifs and or use photos yet so feel free to add yours

I have said this before and I will say it again. I have been in this fandom for a month and I ship Destiel and Cockles anyone who has a problem with this then move along and/or if you are an anti and read this, keep your hateful comments to yourself.

That being said, I have read about almost all ships in the fandom but mostly Destiel, Cockles, Wincest, and J2. Through all the reading and discovery, I still have to say I ship Cockles and Destiel more than ever before. However, I have seen some things from the antis that did not sit well with me.

This is going to be a long post so brace yourself and it is mostly about the hate the antis (anti-cockles, anti-wives , and anti-Destiel Shippers spread). Also this is a rant so don’t mind me,

ON DESTIEL

The hate on Destiel is massive. Mostly this is from Bronlies who hate Cas like he is the anti-Christ, and the Wincest shippers.

Now I am not trying to rain on anyone’s parade but come on. Cas is Dean’s best friend. Whether you ship them romantically or not, it is canon that Cas Dean’s best friend. We have seen time and again how miserable Dean is every time Cas dies. Dea has also expressly stated that Cas is his best friend and even said they are better together; all three of them including Sam. He has called him his family. So why the hate? Chuck himself has said that he has rebuilt Cas more times than anyone.

Now, people who believe that it is better to ship Sam and Dean who are literally blood brother but it is not okay to ship Dean and Cas what is wrong with you? Is it okay for someone to fuck their brother and/or be in love with them? I mean come on.

Before I was even a shipper, I always looked forward to episodes that Cas was in. He brought a different dynamic to the show in a positive way. Yes, I love the brothers but Cas is just deifferent and all the sass he brings makes the show, at least to me 10 times better. Sue me.

People saying that JA would never be comfortable with Destine because he is a Christian. I mean, he can call Chuck a dick, call angels dicks, make deals with demons and all other unchristian things but kissing another man is where he draws the line? If he was such a Christian, why does he let another man straddle him on stage or want to kill God?

Someone once said that JA supports wincest. I saw the video and I get what he said is that whatever floats your boat or something like that. So why is it so hard for him when it comes to Destiel? I don’t understand this man. He is a paradox.

 ON COCKLES

I have seen antis, mostly those who ship J2 throw shade at MC saying that JA doesn’t like him, he just tolerates him and everything they do is for PR. I have not once seen anyone say that JP doesn’t like MC. You know why? I believe they view MC as a threat to their J2 ship.

So I stumbledupon this antis blog who had a whole analysis (much like am doing here) on why JA cannot be a couple. Here are some that I remember from the top of my head:

1.     That JA said that he thinks Matt Bomer is attractive.

2.     That JA moved to Austin to be live next to JP.

3.     That JA and MC have nothing in common being that JA plays golf and sings etc and that MC does woodwork, writes poetry and bicycle touring.

4.     That JA is with JP hence no. 2.

5.     That JA does not curse on stage but MC does.

6.     That MC does not take acting seriously but JA does.

Now now now. This beats logic. All the above things I beg to differ with not because I am cockles shipper but it is just common sense.

Being with someone or rather being in love with someone does not mean any of the above things have to be true. Hear me out.

1.     On finding Matt Bomer attractive. I have many celebrity crushes, there are also ordinary people that I find attractive. But then again, I have a boyfriend, who I am in love with; I have been with for six years. But he looks nothing like my celebrity crushes or the ordinary people I find attractive. Does that mean I am not in love with him? No. It means I have eyes and I can appreciate beauty and have a few fantasies but I chose to be with him because I love him. He also has other people he finds attractive that look nothing like me, does that mean he does not love me? I mean come on.

 Oh the most hilarious thing is that the anti said you cannot compare Matt to MC since Matt is way attractive. I mean come on; they may not look alike but they both have dark hair, blue eyes. Seriously people! And MC is so handsome and adorable at the same time. Sometimes I feel like he looks better than JA and JP. Sue me.

 2.     On JA moving to Austin. Lol. This means that he went to live next to his best friend. I mean come on. I have moved to live next to my best friend (bff) who is married. Does that mean I am in love with her? Hell no! But I feel safer knowing that she is there for me.

Also people need to understand, MC and JA could be involved romantically or not (pick your poison) but you don’t need to be next to your lover to love them or be in a relationship with them. Lond distance relationships anyone? They have families and kids and other priorities. Just because you are in a relationship with someone does not necessarily mean you live together or evn in the same area. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and also they are where they are now because of other priorities in their lives. So, living together or in the same town doesn’t make you more or less in love.

3.     On the issue of common interests. This made me laugh so hard. I mean comeon, People who are together do not need to share any interests. The diversity of their interests is probably what attracted them to each other. Also how can you say a poet and a singer have nothing in common? They are artists. MC can write poems that JA can sing. Oh also remember that video MC’s friend DM posted on Twitter where they did the whole bicycle touring in Germany? Uh huh? JA seemed to be interested in that a lot. So..

4.     I could say a lot about JA being with Jp. This J2 being married and their wives being beards is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. Seriously, J2 tinhats have gone ahead to hate of D’s posts and call her names. Telling her to stop pretending that she is JA. It is laughable and not in a nice way, really. Can they just stop? Before I became a cockles shipper I watched J2 videos where they interact be it cons, red carpet moments or even gag reels. It is just different. All I see are two bros; one that is really playful like a little puppy and the other one trying to be the big brother. As for JA and MC, it is different, there are things that JA is comfortable when Mc does that he is not comfortable when JP does them. Neck kisses for a start.

Also most of the J2 tinhats evidence about J2 being real is rarely backed up by visual evidence and if there is any, it is usually from years ago. I am not hating on antis, just stating facts.

5.     I mean, cursing on stage really? I curse all the time my bf doesn’t. Does that mean he doesn’t like me or love me? Hell to the Fucking No! Suck it!

6.     On Mc not taking acting seriously. Yeah I can guess why he doesn’t. It is not his only priority unlike JA who has chosen it as a career path. From what I have seen, MC’s priorities include making the world a better place through charities, politics, and oh, he is also a writer. Oh so forgive him if he is not obsessed with acting. Besides JA says that he likes how he acts as Cas because it is not like anything he has seen from other guest stars that have come on the show. I mean not being serious about something does not mean that you are not good at it. Would he have lasted 11 seasons if he was not good at what he does?

There was also hate that JA is only around MC for PR and he actually hates him. There were some photos and gifs so the apparent hate. So, if he cannot stand him, why is there so much evidence of JA going to MC to give some love, Neck kisses, intimate IG posts, face caresses, ass smacks, calling him his baby dadfy, heart eyes, even when they don’t know that they are being filmed?

Also why is it during the Vegascon 2020 all JA did was bring up MC unnecessarily even when no one, absolutely nobody asked him to. Come on! stop the bs and admit that Cockles is the realest ship in the history of ships!!

ON THE WIVES

I swear bitches be crazy. How can you just hat someone for literally nothing? This is mostly from J2 tinhats at other J2 stans who do not ship J2 together romantically. I mean…comeon. You do not need to be a stan for the wives just because they are married to J2 but please stop with the madness.

I recently saw someone comment on various JA posts on IG asking why he is lying to the fans that he is with D when he is with JP. So many rude things have been said about the wives especially D that it breaks my heart.

Seiously? People have gone ahead even to say that she is with JA’s friend SC and that the twins are not JA’s they are SC’s since D and SC are ‘always’ hanging out together. My question is, so D is not supposed to hang out with their friends? And for Chuck’s sake, everyone can see that the twins especially the boy (idk their names, sorry) looks like JA’s twin. I mean come on people.

I believe that they hate D because she says how much she loves MC and that Cas is her favorite character and that they are also bitter that JA chose her and not them. Just my opinion, but what do I know. On JP and G. I don’t know much about them mostly because I do not follow either of them of IG or elsewhere but I have seen hate on G as well.

The antis have gone ahead to say that when JA said that he was hanging out with SC writing songs, that he was lying and that nothing was happening he was just trying to dampen the rumours. I wonder how they felt when the album by JA and Sc came out last year. Jokes on you haters. Bitches be crazy fr.

Oh, the antis also say that the same way JA looks at his wife is the same way he looks at MC. With contempt. I mean talk about hanging yourself with your own rope. What they are saying is, JA feels about his wife the same way he feels abouts MC. Aww! That is true love bitches.

If JA actually cannot stand MC, shouldn’t he have gotten him fired from the show or at least make sure he gets less screen time and that they don’t have any panels together being that JA is the star of the show and all. I mean Mark left and he was a major character to the plot so...

Also why would JA give and buy MC clothes if he hates him? Give him a ring, a bracelet? Huh? Explain it to me.

Oh, some anti also said that before every Cockles panel at JIBCON JA cries and has to be forced on stage by Daniella and JP has to give him a hug and that’s why he drinks a lot of apple juice. LOL. WTF? What do you say to such people. I cannot even..My question is, are we talking about the same Cockles panels that I have seen? Then JA deserves all the Oscars and Tony Awards for his impeccable acting skills when he is around MC. Must really hate him. *wink*

MY TWO CENTS ON COCKLES

I know JA gives off mixed actions about MC. But I think it is to confuse people like us, shippers.  He does’t want to too out there so he tries so hard to be mean with his words. But his actions tell a different story. I mean, who gets a boner when their friend straddles them on stage and then goes ahead to post that chest to chest selfie on IG. That is the gayest thing I have ever seen.

Sharing clothes? I mean friends do share clothes but if it is like a daily thing. More than 20 articles of clothing exchanged between each other on various occasions even when they are apart does not make sense to me. And to make matters worse, JA does not deny it. One even had a tag on it. Lol. We are not children, we can see what is going on.

The 2014 DallasCon – Rob’s Birthday Party. WTF? Was all that between JA and MC? Why did he he swallow and react like that when he saw MC’s bare abdomen? Who does that? Also the looks when MC was leaving the stage. Come on.

Also what was up with the” I love you from the bottom of my heart” at the MTV top 10 in 2010.

The wife is my rock but I am glad to have some pebbles in my life.

Truth is, JA could post a video of him balls deep in MC and the antis could say that somehow MC manipulated JA to post it for PR.

People need to leave MC alone, he ie a human being who has made mistakes, JA and JP have too and I don’t see the antis hating on them. The double Standard s FOH.

I could write about this forever but the truth is JA loves MC, and D and V know that they love each other. All their friends know including JP and other castmates. I believe they know it is more than just friends and the antis can’t stand it because they also know it to be true.

JA LOVES MC. JP LOVES MC. J2M LOVE EACH OTHER. J2 LOVE THEIR WIVES. STOP THE HATE!!

I am not done but I am done for now. I could be here forever writing about this if I do not stop.

[classysassy9791]

Sometimes its the quieter moments that speak the loudest. A story of love, laughter, and friendship carried through the years during the most wonderful season of all. Full of fluff and Christmas cheer. Interconnecting One-shots.

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Romance/Friendship Pairings: InuKag, MirSan, SessKagu Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l

Chapter 7: Carol of the Bells Word Count: 3050 Can also be found here

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Inuyasha pulled his scarf snug around his neck as he shuffled out of Sango’s house and into the bitter winter air. He shoved his mitten-clad hands into his coat pockets, ignoring the merry nature of his friends trudging behind him.

He was anything but merry right now.

“What’s wrong, Inuyasha?” Kagome asked, sidling up next to him and looping her arm through his.

“Keh,” he scoffed in reply. “Do I even have to answer that?”

She smiled brightly and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I’m not singing,” he refused for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. He honestly didn’t know what his friends were thinking coming up with a plan like this. And furthermore, how in the hell did he get wrapped up in it?

Kagome jutted out her lip in a pout. “But everyone is going to be singing.”

“Yeah, I bet you have the voice of an angel,” their friend Shippo called out, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

“I am not singing.” Inuyasha made a mental note to throttle the kid later. “Explain to me why we’re doing this again?” he grumbled. His toes were already beginning to freeze.

“The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear,” Kagome pledged with a laugh.

He stopped walking and looked at her. “Did you just quote Buddy the Elf?”

“Stop being such a scrooge,” Sango chimed in as her and Miroku caught up with them. “We haven’t gone Christmas caroling since we were kids.”

“Correction, you haven’t gone Christmas caroling since you were kids,” he amended. “I, on the other hand, never had to go through that torture.”

“I wasn’t torture,” Sango scoffed. “We actually enjoyed going caroling. The Christmas songs, the bells, the hot chocolate…”

Miroku chuckled. “We’re going with some other people,” he reminded Inuyasha. “You can just mouth the words and I’m sure no one would notice.”

“Absolutely not,” Kagome interfered. “You can’t spread Christmas spirit unless everybody is singing.”

“Well, I don’t have any Christmas spirit, so you’re outta luck.” He folded his arms over his chest and sneered. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to walk around in the freezing cold, bothering people, and singing off-key.”

Kagome frowned and shot him a glare. “It’s actually really fun, if you give it a chance.”

“I’m already miserable, so why torment myself?”

“Why are you always such a cynic?”

He balked and glowered at her. “Am not!”

“Are too!” she barbed, pulling away from him and clenching her fists.

“Now, now, you two,” Miroku attempted to interfere. “This is supposed to be an enjoyable night full of Christmas spirit.”

“Let’s just enjoy ourselves,” Sango chimed in, resting a reassuring hand on Kagome’s shoulder. “This isn’t the time for fighting.”

Kagome scowled at Inuyasha before she clucked her tongue and turned away. “They’re right,” she said, storming on ahead. “I’m not going to let your anti-Christmas attitude ruin the night.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes as they passed by the town square and reached the church. A small group had already gathered near the door as the Father passed out booklets full of Christmas songs. A few classmates had shown up, along with some parents and their young children.

“Here you go, Inuyasha,” Kagome snipped as she handed him a song book.

He glanced over the red cover that had a picture of a Christmas tree, and then quickly flipped through the book that had approximately twenty songs. “This is stupid.”

Sango shot him a warning glare. He quickly shut his mouth, not wanting to be at the receiving end of her wrath.

“All right,” Kagome said, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Are we all bunded up? Got our hand warmers and our thermoses of hot chocolate?”

Shippo pulled out a bag of hand warmers with a grin, as Miroku held up three thermoses filled with cocoa. “Prepared and ready, Captain!” Sango cheered.

“Hey, Kagome!” a voice called, drawing their attention to a sandy-haired boy their age walking toward them.

Inuyasha  narrowed his eyes. Hobo…

“Hi, Hojo,” Kagome greeted their classmate warmly. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Every year.” He handed her and Sango some extra candles he had. “I help out at the church whenever I have some free time.”

“Of course you do,” Inuyasha mumbled under his breath.

Miroku leaned over. “Tell me again why you don’t like him?”

Inuyasha had his reasons. Like Hojo always flirting with Kagome, or giving her presents, or offering to help her study. Keh. He was always hanging around when he wasn’t wanted. Inuyasha wasn’t jealous or anything. No, of course not. The kid was just annoying. Even worse than Shippo. At least the red-head was tolerable.

Deciding to stay silent, Inuyasha folded his arms and continued to sulk.

“This will be fun!” Kagome said as Hojo lit her candle from his.

That smile he gave her made Inuyasha’s skin crawl.

“Are we gonna get goin’ yet?” he barked. “I’m going to freeze to death.”

Kagome frowned, but said nothing. “Ah, yes, Inuyasha,” Hojo replied, gesturing with his hand toward a blue pickup filled with blankets and a bag of toys for the children they met along the way. He turned to address the rest of the group. “The truck is all packed up. Go ahead and pile in. I’ll be right there.”

As the group began shuffling toward the truck, Kagome leaned over and lit Sango’s candle. “You know, Inuyasha, you could be a little nicer,” Kagome said off-handedly. “Hojo didn’t do anything wrong.”

“As if. That kid has been making goo-goo eyes at you since the third grade.”

Kagome sighed. “No need to get jealous. He’s not my type.”

He blushed furiously, mouth dropping open. “W-Well I would hope not, since you’re my girlfriend.”

“You’re right.” A small smile wormed its way onto her lips. “I’m yours.”

She folded herself against his side as he looped an arm around her shoulders. He placed a kiss to the top of her head. It was something about those two words that made his stomach do flip-flops. There was nothing in the world that made him feel the way he did when she said that.

Kagome made him happy, even though they fought sometimes. She made him laugh. She was smart. She was different. She was a little crazy and awkward, but her smile alone could make his day.

That’s right, Kagome, he thought as he pulled her tighter against him. You’re mine.

ACS

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,” the group sang hours later at another house covered in Christmas lights. Inuyasha had begrudgingly mumbled along with the words, but didn’t do so with cheer, much to Kagome’s disdain. As they wrapped up their caroling, moving onto the next house, he groaned in discomfort.

“Here,” Kagome said, handing him some hand warmers and a thermos of hot cocoa. “Warm up a bit before we get to the next street.”

He stuffed the hand warmers into his pockets, and took a few sips of cocoa, relishing in the warmth pooling in his stomach. “How much longer are we going to be out here?”

She shrugged. The truck had taken some of the children back home a long time ago, the little ones too cold to finish. “I think this might be the last block.”

He wrinkled his nose, which had long ago become numb. He made a mental note to never let them drag him out caroling again. He stamped his feet to keep them warm as the group shuffled onward. Miroku and Sango had their arms linked, heads bent together whispering, while Shippo hung around near the front, joking with one of the other kids from the neighborhood.

Inuyasha didn’t understand why nobody else seemed bothered by the cold.

They stopped in front of a white house with a red door as everyone flipped through their song books to the tune Hojo had selected. The soft harmony of The First Noel filled the sky, as the carolers in the back hit bells softly against their hands to give a tinkling ring into the night.

After a minute, a young woman opened the door. Her brown hair was frazzled and unkempt, dark circles under her eyes, as the sounds of children screaming could be heard from within the house.

“Please, no carolers tonight,” she begged. “I-I’m trying to get the kids to bed.”

The carolers stopped singing, Hojo nodding his head in apology. “Of course. Sorry to disturb you. Merry Christmas.”

Before she could shut the door, a little boy appeared, pulling at his mother’s dress insistently. “Toshi took my toy!” he screamed at her, red-faced and crying. Another boy from within the house yelled back with indignation.

The mother obviously seemed overwhelmed as her children appeared, each one asking her a question or peeking their heads out curiously to see who was at the door. They ranged from toddlers to young teenagers, all misbehaving and causing their mother a lot of grief.

It had been more than two years since Inuyasha had lost his own mother, but sometimes he was caught unaware, during moments like this, and he was flooded with memories of her.

“Behave, Inuyasha,” Izayoi said with her back to him.

He stomped his feet and pouted. “But mama, I want that toy!”

She turned to look at him, dark hair sweeping over her shoulders. “You know about Christmas, don’t you?”

“Of course!”

“Well, then you know about Santa Claus, right?”

He nodded his head eagerly.

“Then you better watch out.”

“Why, mama?”

She smiled, a shine coming to her eyes. “Because Santa Claus is coming to town.”

A shouted cry from one of the kids startled Inuyasha out of his memories. As the mother struggled with her young ones, looking on the verge of crying, he couldn’t take it anymore. Finally, Inuyasha stepped forward, kneeling down to the boy’s height. “Hey,” he called out, effectively drawing the children’s attention and silencing them. He glanced over them before setting his sights on the boy, still clinging to his mother’s dress. “Do you guys know about Christmas?”

The boy nodded, side-stepping to hide behind his mother.

“Well, then you know about Santa Claus, right?”

They all nodded their heads, their interest piqued as they moved to look out at the strangers on their doorstep.

“Are you being good for your mom?”

The children didn’t answer, looking up guiltily at the woman whose gaze was fixated curiously on the man before her.

Inuyasha shook his head. “Oh man, that doesn’t sound good. You better watch out.”

“Why?” one of the girls asked, pulling at the hem of her shirt.

He scoffed. “Cause Santa Claus is coming to town, that’s why.”

Kagome, who had been standing back and watching Inuyasha with a warm expression, had an idea and quickly told the carolers around her to flip to a different song. In a soft voice that rippled through the group, she sang, “You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why…”

As they began singing, Inuyasha joining in as he handed each of the children a toy, the kids all looked on with wonder, scampering outside to join in, listening to the words and singing along – their eyes bright, their smiles wide, giggling as Inuyasha sang off-tune and stumbled over a verse.

“Santa Claus is comin’ to town!”

As the last of the song faded, Inuyasha chuckled at the look of excitement in the children’s eyes. “Now, Santa is going to be here in a few days,” he warned them gently. “So you need to be good for your mom. Otherwise, Santa is only going to give you coal for Christmas.”

The absolute horror on the kids’ faces made him grin, as they each turned to apologize to their mother. She patted their heads, smiling down at them, as they ran back inside to get ready for bed.

And then she turned teary eyes to Inuyasha as he stood, clasping her hands around one of his. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a smile, before returning inside to the warmth of her home and shutting the door behind her.

There was a stillness in the air as he turned around to look at the other carolers. Each one was looking at him with a stupid grin on their face. He frowned. “What?”

“You’re such a softie,” Shippo laughed.

Miroku joined in. “What a teddy bear.”

“All bark and no bite,” Sango added.

Inuyasha furrowed his brows and stormed toward them. “I am not!”

Kagome linked her arm through his before he could grab a hold of one of their friends – who all took off in the other direction – and looked up at him. Her cheeks pink from the cold, she smiled. “That was really kind of you, Inuyasha. I think you just gave that family the best present of all.”

“Keh. And what’s that?”

“The hope of Christmas spirit, good cheer, and a smile.”

He blushed under her praise, shuffling forward with the rest of the group. And for the first time that night, he didn’t complain about the cold or the long walk home. He didn’t argue about the songs, and sang louder than everyone else the rest of the way home.

He pictured that mother, her warm smile of appreciation, and the wonder reflected in the eyes of her children.

And as they finished caroling for the night, a small voice in the back of his head admitted that Christmas caroling wasn’t so bad after all.

ACS

Inuyasha pushed open the door to his house, letting Kagome escape inside from the cold before shutting the door behind him. They peeled the layers of their clothes away, hanging their coats and scarves on the hooks in the entry way. Kagome shivered, running her hands up and down her arms.

“I’ll start a fire,” he offered, stepping toward the living room.

“Sounds great. I’ll make us come hot chocolate.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

He knelt to start setting wood on the grate, and with a few flicks of a match, a small fire began to burn. He stepped back and sat on the couch, eyes watching the flames grow to life, licking the wood hungrily and bringing warmth to the room.

Amber eyes turned, sweeping over the emptiness of the living room. His father was working late again, and Sesshomaru had moved out over the summer. Kagome had bought some new Christmas stockings that hung with care over the fireplace. She had briefly mentioned early in December about putting up a Christmas tree, but Inuyasha had refused. He didn’t have the heart to go through their Christmas decorations just yet.

Izayoi swept across the living room, dressed in an over-sized Christmas sweatshirt, hanging glittering ornaments on the tree.

Inuyasha gazed into the box filled with Christmas wonder, his little hands grabbing at the plastic ones that looked like little toys.

“You want to help me, Inuyasha?” his mother called, bending down to look into the box with him. “Why don’t you hang some of these for me?”

He nodded his head eagerly, carefully hanging one of the ornaments near the bottom of the tree where he could reach. The ornament, a plastic rocking horse with small beady eyes, twirled on its string, reflecting the lights of the Christmas tree.

Izayoi’s tinkling laughter filled the room, and he looked up at her curiously. “What are you laughing at?”

She smiled down at him. “Laughter comes from joy, and I’m just very happy right now. Good things just feel good, Inuyasha.”

He gave her a curious stare, the soft tunes of ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’ playing over the radio.

“Here you go,” Kagome’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Inuyasha looked over his shoulder to see her standing beside him with two mugs of hot cocoa, reaching one out to him. She took a seat beside him, pulling an old red-checkered blanket over their laps, and snuggled up next to him.

He draped an arm over her shoulders as he sipped on his hot chocolate, eyes turning distant as he watched the flames curl and sway, crackling as they burned the dry wood. It felt good to feel their warmth, shying away the cold empty feeling of the house.

“I just don’t feel the spirit of it anymore,” he finally mumbled.

Kagome looked up at him questioningly. “The spirit of Christmas?”

He furrowed his brows. “Ever since my mother died, I just… I just don’t feel it. It’s like when she left, she took it with her.”

She bit her lip, taking a glance over his barren living room. “Izayoi always did love Christmas.”

He nodded his head. “She did. It was her favorite time of the year.” He sipped his hot cocoa quietly for a moment, and then he added, “But tonight, I felt it again. When we were out there singing to those kids, seeing their smiles, how grateful their mom was…” He paused, trying to find the right words to describe what he was feeling. “I haven’t been the same since my mother died. But tonight, just for a moment, it was like she was still here. Like I’d come home and she’d be singing Christmas music as she decorated the tree.”

Kagome sighed deeply, smiling warmly up at him. “She’s still here,” she reminded softly, laying a hand over his chest. “She’ll always be here.”

He granted her a smile, kissing the top of her head as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

As the fireplace mimicked warmth the house had long forgotten, Inuyasha and Kagome sat cozy by the flame, their features illuminated by the flickering light. He could smell the hint of pine as it burned, just a faint fragrance to reassure their comfort during the long, bitter winter.

And as they finished their hot chocolate, Kagome falling into a quite doze beside him, Inuyasha felt a sense of warmth spread through him, beginning where his heart beat softly in his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” he whispered, amber eyes glistening as he stared into the crackling evening fire.

“Merry Christmas, my Inuyasha.”

[stereostevie]

A brutal childhood, a traumatic marriage, decades of racism: the singer has overcome it all on her way to the top. She lets rip about the people who have wronged her and the self-belief that sustains her.

It is a rainy Thursday afternoon and Mariah Carey is talking to me from her home in Los Angeles, her voice coming through my laptop. Is this the real life or is this just fantasy? (Sweet, sweet fantasy …) “Hello, good morning, good afternoon, this is a little unusual,” says a gravelly voiced Carey. You’re telling me, Mariah.

We are talking by video chat, but – as specified by Carey – without the video turned on, so it is pure chat. Despite her ability to hit the high notes, Carey has always described herself as an alto. Yet even taking that into account, her voice today sounds pretty husky. Is she feeling OK?

“It’s 6am here, and I’m awake in the bright light and it’s fabulous and I love it,” she says and makes an exaggerated groan.

I’m sorry you had to get up so early for this interview, I say.

“Well, darling, then let’s not book interviews at 6am if you’re worried! But please, it’s not you,” she says, and indeed it isn’t. The time and date of our interview have moved around so many times to accommodate Carey’s ever-shifting schedule that, for a while, it looked as if it wouldn’t happen at all. But at the last minute, it was decided we would talk at 6am her time, which I was promised would be fine because Carey is a self-described “nocturnal person”, so that would be 6pm for her. Alas, for reasons too complicated to get into, for one night only, Carey was a non-nocturnal person, so now 6am is just 6am.

“Typically I would have been working [all night] until now, but we had a situation and I couldn’t. Then I tried to get some sleep, but actually I watched the interview I did with Oprah. But it’s OK, it was just one night [of no sleep] and here I am,” she says. You don’t become one of the most successful singer-songwriters of all time – she has sold more than 200m records, and only the Beatles have had more US No 1 songs – without being a trouper.

Carey, 50, has spent lockdown with her nine-year-old twins, Monroe, named for Carey’s hero, Marilyn Monroe, and Moroccan, named partly for one of her favourite rooms in one of her houses, the Moroccan room, “where so many creative and magical moments have happened, including Nick presenting me with my candy bling”. Nick is Nick Cannon, the twins’ father, and “candy bling” is Carey’s term for her engagement ring, which Cannon hid inside a sweet before proposing. Carey liked Cannon’s proposal so much that she even wrote a song about it, called Candy Bling. The marriage proved less enduring and the couple divorced in 2016.

“Honestly, I don’t miss anyone outside, so I don’t care about lockdown,” she says with a throaty laugh. “But it’s difficult for the kids, because they’re used to three-times-a-year Disney World moments and stuff like that, and that’s just not the current state of affairs.” It is not. So Carey is conducting the promotional tour for her memoir, The Meaning of Mariah Carey, from her kitchen table, and if she has her way – and who would dare to argue? – this will be the last round of interviews she ever does.

“No offence to doing interviews, but what would be the point? I can’t articulate it better than I already have [in the book]. From now on, I’m like, ‘Please refer to page 29,’ you know what I mean?” she says. Carey’s deliciously shady put-downs are legend: her “I don’t know her”, when asked almost two decades ago about Jennifer Lopez is still the internet’s most beloved diss. Speaking of Lopez, her name is notably not in Carey’s memoir. Instead, when recalling the hoo-hah that led to their fallout, when a sample Carey had planned to use on her single, Loverboy, appeared on Lopez’s I’m Real, Carey refers to her as a “female entertainer (whom I don’t know).” So is her official position still that she has never heard of Lopez?

There is a pause, then stifled laughter. “Oh my gosh, can you hear that music in the background? It’s Sam Cooke! It’s fantastic!” she giggles.

Not only has Carey not heard of Lopez, she cannot even hear questions about her, it seems.

Carey’s memoir is about a lot more than score-settling (although she makes time for that, too.) “I don’t think anyone could have known where I was coming from, because I was always very, I don’t know if it was protective, but I was cryptic about the past, let’s say,” she says. No more. The youngest child of an African American father and a white mother, Carey was three when her parents split up. Her childhood was threaded through with neglect and violence, not least from her older siblings. When she was six, she says, her older brother knocked her mother unconscious; when she was 12, her older sister allegedly drugged her and left her with creepy men.

“I think my staying up all night started from having such a dysfunctional family. Oftentimes, whoever was in the house was doing whatever it was that they were doing, and that felt kinda unsafe to me, so I started staying up,” she says. Another legacy of this time is Carey’s obsessive adoration of Christmas, because her childhood Christmases were so miserable. When she wrote the monster hit All I Want for Christmas Is You, she wanted, she says in her book, “to write a song that would make me feel like a carefree young girl at Christmas”.

As a child, her biracial identity made her feel she did not belong anywhere: she was so self-conscious about not being black enough that she wouldn’t even dance, as she associated that with black culture; meanwhile, white girls at school taunted her with the N-word. In one of Carey’s – and my – favourite chapters, she describes how her mother did not know how to look after her young daughter’s textured hair, so it was often matted. Carey would look enviously at the white women in shampoo adverts on TV with their flowing hair. “I am still obsessed with blowing hair, as evidenced by the wind machines employed in every photoshoot of me ever,” she writes.

One of the most painful moments in the book comes in 2001 when Carey is having what the press described as an emotional breakdown. (Carey writes that she did not have a breakdown, but “was broken down by the very people who were supposed to keep me whole.”) During this episode, she rages at her mother, who calls the police. The police take her mother’s side: “Even Mariah Carey couldn’t compete with a nameless white woman in distress,” Carey writes. Is that how she experienced it at the time, or is that how she feels generally, that not even she is safe if a white woman complains?

There is the briefest of pauses. “Those are my words, so please refer to page 29,” Carey says.

Race is very much the running theme in Carey’s memoir. This might come as some surprise to those who know her solely from the mega pop hits such as Hero and We Belong Together, as opposed to the more revealing songs, such as 1997’s Outside, which addressed her feelings of racial ambiguity (sample lyric: “Neither here nor there / Always somewhat out of place everywhere”). “I can’t help that I’m ambiguous-looking,” she says, “and most people would assume that it’s been to my benefit, and maybe it has in some ways. But it’s also been a lifelong quest to feel like I belong to any specific group. It shouldn’t have to be such a freaking thing – and please edit out the fact that I said ‘freaking’. I’m not very eloquent right now.” I ask if she was at all influenced during the writing of her book by the rise of Black Lives Matter. She dismisses the question: “Interestingly, this book predates everything that’s happening now, and the book just happened to be very timely.” In other words, Carey hasn’t caught up to the times, the times have caught up to Carey.

Despite her omnipresence over the past three decades, it is possible that you have not thought about her ethnicity. This, Carey says, has been part of the problem: from the start, she was marketed by “the powerful corporate entities” in a way that played down her racial identity. What made this even more complicated for her was that the most powerful corporate entity in charge of her career at the beginning was her first husband, Tommy Mottola, then the CEO of Sony Music.

Carey’s discovery by Mottola is the stuff of music industry legend. The then unknown aspiring singer gave him a tape of her music at a party in 1988. Mottola tracked her down, signed her and, a few years later, married her. She was 23 and he was 44. Within just a few pages in her memoir, she goes from wearing her mother’s busted shoes to work to living in a $30m mansion with Mottola, which she decorated with enthusiasm: “Though by no stretch do I like a rustic look, I do have a preference for tumbled marble on my kitchen floors,” she writes. Adjusting to the high life was not difficult.

The hits – I’ll Be There, Emotions, One Sweet Day – were unstoppable. The Mottola-Carey marriage did not fare as well, imploding in 1997. Carey expands at some length on her previous allusions to Mottola’s controlling tendencies, claiming he would spy on her and that she was effectively a prisoner in the house. In his 2013 memoir, Mottola admits his relationship with Carey was “absolutely wrong and inappropriate” and adds: “If it seemed like I was controlling, I apologise. Was I obsessive? Yes, but that was also a part of the reason for her success.” Carey points out that she went on to have nine hit albums without Mottola’s controlling obsession. She writes that Mottola tried to “wash the urban” off her, recoiling at Carey’s increasing leaning towards hip-hop and collaborations with African American artists such as ODB. “I believe I said ‘urban, translation black,’ just in case anyone thinks I don’t know,” Carey corrects me. Does she think that was just for commercial purposes, or was something else going on with Mottola? “In my opinion there was a lot of other stuff going on there,” she says.

It must have been pretty upsetting to revisit that period during the writing, I say.

“Yes it was traumatic, but was it harder than some of the other things I’ve gone through? Maybe yeah, actually,” she says with a rueful laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from the damage of that emotional abuse. But in my school of thought, you have to be a forgiving person.”

Carey is extraordinarily honest in her memoir, but the book is almost as striking for what she does not include as what she does. A lot of attention has focused on her confirmation that she did, as long rumoured, have a fling with the former baseball star Derek Jeter (“I’m not being shady, but he had on pointy shoes,” she recalls a little shadily of their first meeting.) But there is no mention of other boyfriends, such as her former fiancé, the Australian billionaire James Packer.

“If it was a relationship that mattered, it’s in the book. If not, it didn’t occur,” she says.

But you were engaged to Packer, I say.

“We didn’t have a physical relationship, to be honest with you,” she says.

And that is that.

Carey’s singing voice made her famous, but her penchant for being thrillingly, hilariously high-maintenance played its own part in shaping her legend. On an episode of MTV Cribs, she explained that she had a chaise longue in her kitchen because “I have a rule against sitting up straight”, and she has talked about bathing only in milk. Does she think she is high-maintenance – and, if so, does she think it is because she came from nothing?

“You know what? I don’t give a shit. I fucking am high-maintenance because I deserve to be at this point. That may sound arrogant, but I hope you frame it within the context of coming from nothing. If I can’t be high-maintenance after working my ass off my entire life, oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t realise we all had to be low-maintenance. Hell, no! I was always high-maintenance, it’s just I didn’t have anyone to do the maintenance when I was growing up!” she says and cackles with delight.

By now it is almost 7am for her and she is wide awake. I tell her I enjoyed all the references in her book to her enjoying “a splash of wine”.

“Oh, do you? Do you love a splash for yourself?” she asks, pleased.

I do, but I was intrigued by her description of a night out with her friends, including Cam’Ron and Juelz Santana, when they were all “high” on “purple treats”. What were these “purple treats”?

“A legal substance in California known as mari-ju-ana. It’s called purple because that’s the particular weed they liked,” she says.

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And did she like it?

“Are you enquiring for yourself or are you asking if I enjoyed it?” she says, mock coy.

I am asking if you enjoyed it, Mariah.

“No, I hated it,” she deadpans, then laughs. “I’m sorry, but it’s obvious!”

I have been interviewing famous people for a long time, but talking with Carey is the closest I have come to how I imagine it would have been to spend time with Bette Davis or Aretha Franklin. There are lots of ridiculous modern celebrities, but Carey is not like that. With her mix of slightly self-parodic ridiculousness undercut with no-messin’, true-to-herself honesty, she is a proper grande dame of the old school. A diva, in other words. It is a term she has laboured under throughout her career, and it is unlikely she will escape it, even if people now finally know where she is coming from. Does she mind the D-word?

“No! Who the fuck cares?” she laughs. “Honestly! ‘Oh my God, they’re calling me a diva – I think I’m going to cry!’ You think in the grand scheme of things in my life that really matters to me, being called a diva? I am, bitches, that’s right!”

The Meaning of Mariah Carey (Macmillan, £20) and The Rarities (Sony Music) are out now.

• This article was amended on 5 October 2020 to clarify that it is in the United States where Mariah Carey is second only to the Beatles in terms of having the most No 1 singles.

[torendheavenandearth]

1.7

“At the end of thy road, one must remember the golden rule: all things in moderation, and find the balance in all things. There, in minute perfection, you will find God, and you will find him wanting.” -- From the Discourse of the Tambay Swordsman and the Alcoholic Witch.

▼

Makabintang nears the crossroads. “Hey kid,” says Makabintang, peering behind him. He sees Angela is out, sleeping sideways against the kalesa seat. That’s bound to cause some neck pain.

Makabintang moves the kalesa to the right edge of the road and stops the horses, which have been running for almost two hours. There’s a small clearing here, a little embrace from the trees. Here the soft patter of the stream punctures the silence. The sound of the wind slipping through the bamboo causes a song of sadness to ring out from the forest.

Makabintang climbs up and flicks Angela’s face. Angela snorts as she’s pulled back into the waking world. “Ah punyeta. What--?”

“We’re taking a short stop here. You can rest up here. Get down and stretch.” Makabintang then grabs a glass canteen from behind her and walks off to the stream.

Angela watches Makabintang disappear into the greenery. She tries to move, but is greeted by an orchestra of pain. Her neck is sore, her feet sear with red hot spiky agony, her hands feel raw, and her knees have been scraped. Wincing, she gingerly makes her way down from the kalesa and winces as she hits the ground. Her feet are raw: she’s not wearing clogs or any kind of shoes. She makes her way over to the center of the small clearing where there’s a small campfire used by those before. The charcoal has been doused, but it hasn’t been cleared or replaced. They’re going to have to clean off the charcoal and get some new firewood.

A couple of men riding along on horses happen by the clearing. Angela notices that they’re taking the right path at the crossroads. One of the men, wearing a large salakot and barong tagalog, stares longingly at Angela, and Angela looks away, trying her best to act as if she can’t see them. She briefly wonders if she should just go back to her own kalesa and hide. 

The two men stop their horses. One of them--the one wearing a navy blue uniform, has an arquebus hanging from behind his back, and a sabre hanging from his waist--gestures with his head, and the salakot-wearing man nods and slides down from his saddle.

The approaching man is wearing a large cloak that wraps around him, but underneath that he’s wearing large balooning pants, leather shoes, and a fancy striped barong tagalog. His hair looks groomed, and so is his moustache.

Angela squints at them. She sits at one of the logs-turned-benches. 

“Hello, binibini,” says the man, as he nears her. He takes off his salakot. “What is a precious young girl like you doing out here, in the middle of the path?”

Angela breathes out, slightly irritated. She didn’t think she’d get these kinds of people in another world still. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk with strangers?” 

“Then let’s change the situation then,” says the man, smiling. “My name is Don Jose Iago de Lacandola. And you are?”

Angela cringes. “I’m 17. Go away.”

“Age is but a number,” says Don Jose Iago de Lacandola. Angela cringes. He examines Angela thoroughly. “It is better if you are not to stay here, in the middle of nowhere. You seem like you have gone through a rough patch. I can take you to my hacienda, which is just over Mount San Roque. I can care for you like a king would care for his princess.”

Angela blinks. She thinks that this can be a good chance to get some good life out of this miserable predicament she’s found herself in. “Are you some kind of… noble?”

Don Jose nods. “I am a principales, part of the principalia of the Kingdom of Perlesensya. Perhaps that will make my offer more enticing. I will care for you all your life.”

Angela squints at Don Jose again. “Why?”

Don Jose manages a small smile. A shy smile. He looks up at the sky and says, “Well, it is not everyday that a Don such as myself would be graced by God the fortune of seeing an exceedingly beautiful maiden sitting out here in the forests. I must protect all beautiful ladies that I come across but…” he looks down on Angela again. “...never have I seen a woman so beautiful as you.”

“But…” Angela reaches up to her horns. 

“Oh, do not worry about that. We can surely hire a surgeon and a healer to surgically remove it from you. We’ve done it before.”

“You’ve… surgically removed horns from people? Why?”

“No horns are allowed in the Hacienda proper, you see,” says Don Jose. “And it’s commonly seen as unnoble within Biringan, the City of Cities. It's just for politeness and so that you can fit in better. Admittedly, that is the only blemish I see in your perfection.”

Angela cringes again. The prospect of having the horns surgically removed is something she’s keenly interested in, but a mote of doubt lingers within her heart.

“There’s a catch to this, isn’t there?”

Don Jose shrugs. “Of course, it would be in my best interest to wed you. Perhaps we can live together in my hacienda, and you can be the loving wife that welcomes me back from military expeditions and other such things! You will have a grand life.”

Angela pouts and thinks. Her forehead creases. She doesn’t quite know what to answer. Not yet, anyway. 

“Come on, girl. Do you not want to be treated like a principales?”

“I do,” Angela says, looking up. “But… I don’t think I can.”

“Oh, lovely maiden, moon of my life, why?”

Angela shrugs. “There’s… something I have to do first. There are people that are counting on me, I think. I’m not sure. But I don’t think I can do whatever I have to do if I went with you. Sorry.” And also going off gallivanting with a creepy older man is out of the question, fuckin’ creep.

Don Jose stops and stares at Angela for a bit. Eventually he sighs and shrugs. He produces a piece of rectangular paper from his pocket and gives it to her. “This is a paper signed by me. If you ever come to the hacienda--Hacienda Lacandola it is called--then show this to the gatekeeper. They shall let you in, and perhaps we can talk at length and help you come to a conclusion.”

Angela snorts. “Sure.” She takes the card. 

“God bless you,” says Don Jose, before walking back to the horse and then shrugging. His shoulders have fallen. The principales gets on his horse and the two of them begin making their way up the mountain. The man that looks like a soldier looks over his shoulder and stares at her as they disappear into a curve.

“Weirdos,” says Angela. She thinks of throwing the paper away, but then decides against it. Perhaps it can help in the future. She looks around her and finds that the baro’t saya she’s wearing has no pockets in them. Exasperated, Angela sighs. Of course they don’t. 

She gets up and walks over to the kalesa and slips the piece of paper into the sheath of the bolo that Makabintang gave her. She stares at her own reflection through the slightly dulled blade of the bolo. There’s still some dirt on her face, from when she fell. Her eyes are red. Is she losing sleep? Her glasses are miraculously still intact. When will they get broken? What will she do if they do? She’s practically blind without them. How will she be able to survive?

The bolo could be a good start, she thinks. Maybe get some training in them and be like a samurai or one of those old Filipino action movies or old Filipino komiks by Francisco Coching. She can manage it, she thinks. She’s always had before.

“I’ll get Makabintang to train me,” she mutters. What is seemingly apparent to Angela is that in this universe, fighting is to be expected at one point or another. At least, for a person like her. So it only makes sense for her to get up and grab some kind of combat training. If not, she’s going to get turned to bloody mush on the ground, and she doesn’t have any plans of dying just yet.

I still need to go home.

She brings the bolo over to the log she sat on and pondered. She wonders how life is, back at home, back in horrible Metro Manila, with the shitty transportation system and the even shittier government. That distant wish for home hit her like a truck. Sure, it was hell, but at least that place didn’t have, like, huge demons and angels and explosions and supernatural kung fu or whatever. If this is heaven, then she’d rather be cozy back home in hell.

She sighs. She wonders how Kristina is doing. One of her best friends. She was supposed to go and have a study date with her the next day, eating and drinking at their favorite cafe along Aurora Avenue. A hidden gem. But no. She was abducted by human-trafficking angels instead. Angela wonders if she will ever get back home. She decides that if she ever does go back home, she will.

In fact, she decides that she’ll do all of this, survive and get strong and hop around with Ang Nilapastangan and Makabintang, just to find a way to get back home. Her mother is waiting. Her little brother is waiting. They are all waiting for her to get back home.

“Oyoy, what was that commotion a while back?” Makabintang’s voice floats out of the trees. Angela looks up and sees him walking out, with three canteens full of water, which he carries with a makeshift flat plane of wood that he found out within the forest. He goes over to the horses and gives them something to drink.

“Some principales,” Angela replies. “Can I ask you a favor, Makabintang?”

“A principales? Did he say his name?”

“Don Jose something something Lacandola.”

Makabintang pauses. He turns to stare at Angela and his eyes go wide. “Lacandola? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Oh what, is he like, super important or something? Is that it?”

“Yes! Yes he is! Lacandola is one of the royal houses of the Kaharian!”

“What?”

“There’s not a lot of them, really. Only nine left: Sulayman, Lacandola, Ache, Colambu, Tupas, Paiburong, Sikatuna, Cabungsuan, and Namwaran.” Strangely enough, Angela recognizes some of those names. Names that she’s seen her friends have, or mentioned in old historical texts. Another weird note that imprints itself onto her mind.

“And this is important to me… how?” asks Angela.

“You shoulda taken the offer and took me with you!” Says Makabintang. “We’ll be rich and living large!”

“I doubt they’d allow a duwende to live in with them, though,” says Angela. “Don Jose already said that he’d have my horns surgically removed.”

“Yeesh,” says Makabintang, and then waves his hand dismissively “But whatever, you’re probably right. Come on, let’s get back on the road.”

Angela opens her mouth to ask something more, but a low guttural bellow resonates from somewhere else, freezing her words in her throat. She and Makabintang stare at each other, eyes completely wide, bodies frozen.

And then the kimera leaps out from within the shadows between the trees.

There’s a moment of absolute fear blossoming from the well at the bottom of Angela’s soul. She leaps to her feet, brings out her bolo, and faces down the kimera even as it leaps through the air and pins her to the ground.

“Makabintang! Help!” She screams, and the fear in her voice is like the shattering of glass. Makabintang rises and brandishes his own bolo. He sinks into the earth and then erupts from a mound to the left of the kimera, sending him cannonballing straight into the kimera’s side, bolo first. The bolo sinks, the kimera screams. 

It flails about, sending Makabintang flying from it. This time, it doesn’t underestimate Makabintang. It leaps toward him as he slams against a tree, grabs him mid-bounce, and then slams him against the tree once again. 

And then with a single, savage movement, rips Makabintang’s head from his body with its kimera dog mouth.

“Makabintang!”

▼

Ang Nilapastangan is faster than horses.

Upon her bellowing strides of smoke and flame--a neat little trick she’d picked up when traveling with a tigbalan--she crosses the length traveled by the kalesa in half the time. Despite the dewy morning, the road is not damp enough to let wheel tracks be embedded upon it, but that’s okay. Ang Nilapastangan told Makabintang where to go. She knows where they’re headed. 

She just hopes she’s not too late. She just hopes she catches up before they go past the crossroads. But Makabintang knows that. Makabintang is a wise duwende, and he’d know to stop by at the crossroads to wait for her.

That is, assuming nothing worse follows after them. The kimera… she can’t brush the thought of the kimera from her mind. It wasn’t there when she looked around. Last time she remembered, halimaw don’t just disappear when they die. It’s popular to use the materials harvested from hunting them for equipment and items.

So where did it go?

Ang Nilapastangan bellows-pumping stride eventually reaches its peak, and she reaches the crossroads at almost a quarter of the time a horse-drawn carriage like the kalesa would. When she gets there, however, the kimera’s maw rips Makabintang’s head from his body.

Ang Nilapastangan’s fury is silent, and the world has told her that she must be silent. She blurs forward. Now right beside the kimera, and thrusts her hand--which is in a knife-hand position--straight through the kimera’s chest. She then inserts her other hand through that same hole, and then rips the kimera in two, vertically.

Chunks of meat and blood scatter across the clearing. Angela scrambles away from the blood and meat, bolo still in hand. Her eyes are wide, her breathing rapid. She feels like she’s going to puke, but she can’t look away from the fantastic gore caused by Ang Nilapastangan.

Ang Nilapastangan hurls both parts of the kimera into two different parts of the forest. Throwing it so strongly that it sends waves of air rushing out. She throws it seemingly so that the two parts of the kimera are as far from each other as possible.

She looks down upon the headless corpse of Makabintang, ripped and savaged. The blood of beings like Makabintang don’t seem to be red like human blood. Their blood is one that is yellow-ish, like the sap of trees, nearing gold. 

Ang Nilapastangan scowls. Angela stares at Ang Nilapastangan.

▼

Ang Nilapastangan digs up a grave for what’s left of Makabintang’s body with her bare hands. She is silent, and when Angela looks over at her, her face is blank. Not in that blank kind of way when someone’s loved one dies and you don’t know how to react. Her face is exactly like her face the first time she saw her. As if the death of Makabintang, the only person that she seems to speak with, doesn’t faze her.

Ang Nilapastangan makes an effort to make the grave like a mound, like that of his house. And then, at the top of the mound, she places a single sampaguita flower that she finds nearby.

With that done, she gets on both knees and then bows. Her hands are clasped together, as if in prayer. Angela wonders if she should follow in what she’s doing. Even just to pay some kind of respect to the weird duwende that helped her. But, she feels too awkward, and decides not to.

Eventually, Ang Nilapastangan finishes the procession. She doesn’t do any kind of sign of the cross or anything. She simply lifts her head and then rises to her feet. She turns around and says: “I’m filthy.”

Angela blinks. “Um. Yeah. You’re covered in guts and blood.”

“We can’t afford to bathe yet,” she says, with an almost… complaining tone? Angela can’t help but tilt her head in slight confusion. 

Angela also notices that as she’s talking, her burning crimson feet and hands are slowly subsiding. Her black and red eyes are dissipating. She closes her eyes and she breathes out. When she opens her eyes again, her eyes are normal. They’re no longer black and red, but a beautiful white and ash gray.. She, more or less, has the visage of a human. 

Save, of course, for the horns.

“Come on. Barangay San Justo is a bit more travel.” She walks over to the kalesa and unlatches the horses from the wagon. She then reaches into the wagon and brings out a pair of saddles. Fraying at the edges, but working more or less. “Ah, the horse carer remembered my request. Good.”

Angela walks up to Ang Nilapastangan. “We’re not going to ride the kalesa?”

Ang Nilapastangan shakes her head. “We’re going to ride the horse instead. Do you know how to ride one?”

▼

Angela and Ang Nilapastangan ride down the path. They’ve gone down the westward road. “The east road leads up to a mountain trail that leads to Barangay Sampotsi. There you will find Hacienda Lacandola,” Ang Nilapastangan said. Angela told Ang Nilapastangan about the encounter she’s had with Don Jose, but Ang Nilapastangan doesn’t reply or respond to it.

Now, upon the trail, there is a slight awkwardness. The only time Ang Nilapastangan has talked to her is to teach her the ropes of riding a horse. She’s ridden one before when she went to Tagaytay and Baguio, but riding one on her own without the guide of some kind of caretaker is a new experience. Surprisingly, she got the hang of it rather quickly, and soon the two of them are on a canter. Ang Nilapastangan took the horse with the black coat, while Angela chose to ride upon one with a chestnut brown coat.

The path is mostly quiet, save for the soft sound of the wind wafting across the trees. The rustlign of branches, the whistle of small zephyrs. The temperature is not too bad. Humid, of course, but the sun is not shining directly at them so the heat is bareable. Angela realizes how much she prefers the temperate, humid climate of the more tropical countries than the more extreme degrees of other countries. She’s glad that they have that climate here, and much cooler than in Metro Manila too, since this place is presumably not choked by pollution and microwaved by climate change.

Their canter is brisk, but not to slow. Its a perfect pace for Angela to ponder upon the things she sees as she travels across the path. The broken twigs on the ground, the kabalyero trees that seem to be more popular here, sending the red petals of their flowers cascading down to the soil. The random snake coiling about a trunk, or flying lizard leaping from one treetop to another. A squirrel scurrying down a tree. Numerous birds flying above.

A soft wind sends fallen dead leaves flurrying into a small tornado, instilling into them once again, a semblance of life.

However it's not the kind of abounding, almost choking, multitude of animals Angela thought she would encounter. It’s strangely serene. The animals here seem to be alone: Angela can’t help but wonder why she only sees one squirrel, and one flying lizard, and one flock of birds. At this point, she’s expecting to be assaulted by an onslaught of mosquitoes and flies, but none come. Maybe one, and it isn’t even a mosquito.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Angela blinks. She looks up at Ang Nilapastangan. The path ahead is long. There’s a patch of the road further down that is shadowed by a canopy of tree branches. “Yeah.”

“It used to be even better,” says Ang Nilapastangan. 

Angela waits for Ang Nilapastangan to explain further, but she never does. 

After a bit of cantering, Angela speaks, “I’m sorry about Makabintang.”

“Don’t be,” she replies. “You had nothing to do with it. And Makabintang would’ve been honored to go out that way.”

“Wasn’t he your friend?”

“He was. He was the only friend I had and the only one that didn’t freak out when I said that I was the winner of the Hagdanan and that I came to that village to hide away from Biringan. He was a good friend. But he was going to die, I think, one way or another. It always happens.” The wistful tone is almost cliche to Angela.

“You were hiding?”

Ang Nilapastangan nods. “It’s the only way for them not to kill me, or use me.”

“Use you?”

Angela doesn’t get a response to that either. 

With a sigh, Angela continues with, “If only I knew how to fight.”

“Don’t worry about  the ‘ifs’,” says Ang Nilapastangan. “It’s done now. Move on. That’s what’s important. That’s how you break chains.”

Another silence. Angela decides not to engage anymore with Ang Nilapastangan. Maybe she’s still grieving, and just doesn’t want to show it to Angela so that she doesn’t break her tough-girl demeanor? Either way, Angela loses the will to converse. She looks around her again, and nothign much happens. Not a lot of animals come out. For a world that is the center of the multiverse, she thinks that it should have a lot more colorful animals. Not just a single squirrel and a snake. And some birds.

They ride for a few more hours, passing through numerous canopied sections of the road: the parts where the branches of the trees embrace overhead, as if to provide shelter and shade. The sun doesn’t shine down directly at you within the canopy, and the wind is chilly. As they canter along, her mind begins trailing, looking for more distractions. She wishes she can have her phone right now, numb her mind against her Twitter feed or chat with some friends. But then she remembers that those friends are universes away.

Eventually, to pick up the pace, Ang Nilapastangan tells Angela to gallop and follow her. Angela nods, prodding the horse forward and then balancing herself on her knees. Ang Nilapastangan taught her this just a few moments ago. She remembers what she’s taught: use her knees to steady herself, don’t pull on the reins, lean forward. And she does. 

The horse goes forward, and it runs quick and true. It seems as though it’s doing its best to accommodate for Angela’s inexperience. Even though her gallop isn’t as fast as Ang Nilapastangan’s, it's enough that Ang Nilapastangan is always in view.

▼

After a few more hours of riding--which was painful for Angela, having to look around all the time--Angela finds that the road they’re sat upon crests up to the top of a hill. When they reach it, Ang Nilapastangan stops the horse, and so does Angela.

There, from the hilltop, they see Barangay San Justo. A quaint little town with the same wooden houses mixed with stone houses, and with a church in the middle. It is surrounded, of course, by dense trees, some of them breaching the gaps of the town and growing between houses and roads. There is a small wall on both the north and south sides of the barangay, made of earth and wood.

The hilltop road bends down into the southern exit. 

The barangay, strangely enough for the middle of the day, is quiet.

“We will look for the albularyo here,” says Ang Nilapastangan. “And then afterwards, I will help you.”

Angela blinks, looking up at Ang Nilapastangan. “Help me?”

“Get stronger and win the Hagdanan. It’s the only way, if you wish to be free.”

Next Arc.

Return to the Table of Contents.

[bluejaysgonerogue]

I’m Sorry PT.2-Stucky x Reader

Read first part first!

Warning; Mentions of S***ide, cutting, extreme depression,

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Please, dive in.

—

I stop shading the background of a picture, looking up at the New York City Lights.

If you need me

Wanna see me

You better hurry

Cause I'm leaving soon

Sorry can't Save me now

Sorry I don't know how

Sorry there's no way out

But down

Mmm

Down

I skip the song, not wanting to think of jumping off this roof. I made them a promise, and I will keep that promise even if they hate me for it.

Promise us you won't ever die because you don't have us with you.

They had said those words with such seriousness as they sat with me on stools at the island. I had nodded my head, agree and telling them the same before we all kissed.

It's not true

Tell me I've been lied to

Crying isn't like you

Oh-oh-oh

I let a single tear fall down my cheek as I think of the pained looks they gave me. The first day I stopped sleeping with them, they looked so sad the next morning. When Steve had gone to pour my tea, he had found I had already finished the job. And added the cream Bucky usually drops in.

What the hell did I do?

Never been the type to

Let someone see right through

Oh-oh-oh

I had wiggled  out of their passionate hugs from behind, shrugged off their shoulder kisses. I stopped going to dinner, lunch and breakfast, residing with tony in his lab. Steve and Bucky took turns dropping off food, but I eventually stopped eating

Maybe won't you take it back

Say you were tryna make me laugh

And nothing has to change today

You didn't mean to say "I love you"

I love you and I don't want to

They had confronted me a week after I left their room, asking me what was wrong and cupping my face and kissing my head and face. I told them I had rethought a lot since I had died and that I wanted to play the field. So, after they had started to leave me alone, I'd go to bars and hookup and date people. They didn't matter- just greedy people who wanted the chance to be in Stark Tower with the Avengers. Hell, one idiot even tried to steal nats underwear, and he didn't leave without a limp and a dislocated shoulder.

Oh-oh-oh

Up all night on another red eye

I wish we never learned to fly

high

I had gone to LA for a few weeks, meeting youtubers who wanted to feature me in their videos. I dated a guy for a hot minute, posting only one video with him. We had gotten this idea to reenact cute couple photos. We did, he edited it and posted. I stalked the comments from my hotel room, seeing that the YouTube account Steve and Bucky had set up had commented a few paragraphs. The guys fans got really toxic and hated on stucky, some calling them fags. Ugh. I hate that word so much.

Maybe we should just try

To tell ourselves a good lie

I didn't mean to make you cry

In the airport, after my flight, tony had Happy drive me back. I, Of course, didn't know that Steve and Bucky we're having meltdowns in the back of the car. After about ten minutes, I practically forced happy to pull over and let me sit in the passenger seat up front. We had sat in silence as we listened to the sobs of my exes.

"Yknow, tony told me they had been crying the whole time you were gone." Happy had said when we were on a less crowded freeway.

“I know." I had said, while giving a blank stare out the window.

"Could you maybe-just maybe- try forgiving them? All they want is you kid."

"I know."

"Look, you don't get love like that. It's once in a lifetime sorta thing. You gotta stick with it when you got it, because you never know when you're going to loose them."

"Happy, look, I'm just in the way of their relationship. Once they get over it, I know they will be happier without me, eventually." I give him the first reason why I'm doing this.

"Okay kid. Okay."

Maybe won't you take it back

Say you were tryna make me laugh

And nothing has to change today

You didn't mean to say "I love you"

I love you and I don't want to

Bucky and I had to spar for fury. The man had us in minimal clothing for some goddamn reason. And we all know how hot Bucky is with no top on. So of course I let it slip.

“Heya Moss." Bucky called me by my last name, something he'd never done before.

"Hello Barnes." I usually called him Sarge or James. But never before has I called him Barnes. He looked pained, like a kicked puppy. I know I shouldn't've fallen for it, but I did.

"God I love you so much." I gave him a hug before realizing what I was going. I quickly pushed myself away, rushing out of the gym, out of the shield base, and out of New York. I took a plane out to Columbus Ohio for a change in scenery. Went and saw some local bands, ate some of the best Chinese ever, and had a lot of one night stands.

The smile that you gave me

Even when you felt like dying

We fall apart as it gets dark

I'm in your arms in Central Park

There's nothing you could do or say

I can't escape the way, I love you

I don't want to, but I love you

When I came back to the tower, Natasha had actually ambushed me with hugs. She held me close and pulled me towards Steve and Bucky's Room.

In fact, that's where I am right now. Standing outside their door with Natasha's arm around my shoulder. She knocks, getting a weak 'go away' in response.

"Cmon, Ash. Say something. Sing something, just do something. They've been doing horribly. They stopped eating when Bucky came back full out bawling and in tears after the sparring incident. The team doesn't know why you started avoiding those two. We all know how close you guys are.  Please ash they've been more miserable than I was after Clint." She stops for a moment. A vow she took to take a moment of silence after saying his name. "Please Ash. Say something to them. You're the only one they'll open the door to."

I look at her, a dumbfounded expression on my face.

"Nat, it's been three and a half months. They should be over me."

"Well, they aren't."

"Natasha, I don't deserve those angels. They're literal human gods. They're the perfect two people to be together. They're so compatible it's unbelievable. I throw that off nat. I throw off their relationship Becuase they feel like they can't just give each other attention, they have to give me attention too. Nat, I love those shïtheads more than I love the team. But, I hold them back. So I let them go. Natasha, it's 4 am, I just got away from some creepo who tried to take my uterus. I am not in the mood to deal with two crying men. Especially not the only two who I would actually cry for. So please, tell everyone to stop circling me in and let me go to my room." By now, all of the avengers, save tony, bucky, Steve and of course nat, has formed a circle around the door and me, all in full armor. Hell, Loki had created some fücking forcefield or something to keep me unable to go anywhere aside from inside that door.

"Ash, you have to pull your big girl panties up and admit that they can't function without you."

"They did just fine for a few months." I retort, staring Wanda and Natasha down.

"Loki, can your just pull them out? Or put her in there butt naked? Please?" Sam looks bored at this point, determined to get away from here and back onto his couch.

"Woah woah woah, no way in hell that is going to happen." I sigh, finally realizing they've cornered me. "Damn you guys are evil."

I turn to the door, putting my fingers on the glossy paint of the door. i let it rest there for a while, tears threatening  to fall down my face as my lip trembles.

"Say something I'm giving up on you. I'll be the one if you want me to. Anywhere I would've followed you." I finally let the tears fall, choking me as I sing the song they should be singing.

"Say something in giving up on you." I wait a second before continuing. "And I. Am feeling so small. It was over my head. I feel nothing at all."

I lean my forehead against the door, my breath fogging up the paint. "And I.  Will stumble and fall. I'm still learning to love. Just starting to crawl." I really was new to love. They were my first real relationship, of course.

"Say something im giving up on you. I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you. Anywhere I would've followed you. Say something im giving up on you." Instead of the strong voices used in the recording, I use my head voice, softly as it cracks with my sobs.

"And I. Will swallow my pride. You're the ones that I love. But I'm saying goodbye." I fall to my knees, feeling the eyes of my teammates burning a hole in the door.

"Say something, I'm giving up on you. And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you. And anywhere, I would have followed you. oh say something, I'm giving up on you" I'm starting to give up on them. Maybe they won't forgive me. Honestly, I wouldn't blame them if they never did. I'm a horrible person for what I did to them.

"Say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something" I just collapse against the door, my back and head falling against it. I cry, looking up at the grey ceiling. I stop singing, talking softly now. I know that if they tried, they could hear me.  "Say something"

"I'm so sorry. God I'm such a mess. I miss you guys. So much. I miss cuddling, I miss talking. I miss sleeping in between you two. I miss making you guys breakfast in bed in the rare occasion you guys weren't up before me. God I'm such a goddamned idiot. I'm so new to love. God, I've never let myself get this close to anyone before you two came along and crashed my party of one. God, I miss you two. So, so, so much. Y'know, Happy told me that you guys were miserable. God I'm so sorry I left you in the car. That should've done it. But it didn't. Because I'm the fücking idiot that I am and I took you two angels for granted." I pause, turning my torso to rest my hand on the doorframe. "God, I miss curling up in your tops, snuggling into your sweaters when I'm sick. I actually miss the empty feeling when you two are both gone on missions without me. I miss climbing into our closet and sitting on the floor between your clothes. I miss the sandalwood smell I get when Steve's been gone, and I miss the smell of cedar that becomes potent when Bucky gone alone.  I miss everything about you guys and I don't know how I'm still alive and here. I don't know why I haven't just jumped off the roof of this tower."

That's when it happens. The door flips open and my head is caught by a warm lap. I am pulled inside the dark, musty smelling room, the door slammed after I'm inside. I look at the guy who's lap I fell in, only to not recognize him.

"Who are you?" I ask after a quick look at his face. He has long, long deep blonde hair and an unkept and unforgettably long beard. His eyes are a dull blue, and his face is tear stained. I look around his neck, breathing in his scent. "Cedar... Wait Steve?" I look at him. He looks like shït. And he's just staring at me with a blank expression.

"Oh my god Steve are you okay? Have you even gotten up lately? Why are your eyes so dull, why'd you grow your beard out so long? Why haven't you cut your hair? Where's Bucky?" I ambush him with questions as I look his face over, taking it inbetween my hands and moving it around so I can inspect him.

"Wait Steve why are you wearing long-" I pause for a moment, realizing what I'm saying.  "Oh my god Steve no. God no. Please god please please please no tell me you didn't." He doesn't say anything, but the slight movement in his face tells me everything.

"Shit." I takes me a split second to trip his sleeves up, seeing the scars and lines of dried blood. They're deep, but healing well thanks to that serum. "You idiot. If it weren't for that serum you'd be dead and I couldn't yell at you for being so stupid. I mean, Nomad you at least took care of himself. Why'd you do that Steve? Why did you start-" I stop again, already knowing the answer. "Oh god I hate myself so much right now. What the hell is wrong with me. I can't even make up for the shit I've caused you. Damn I'm such a mess. Going around town and keeping beds warm. God I missed you Steve. I'm so sorry I'm such an idiot for leaving you two. I'm such a goddamned blind dense idiot-"

He cuts me off, pulling me to his chest and kissing my forehead. I let him sit there for a second, sighing as I finally feel at home. And then I remember.

"Bucky." I get up off of Steve, searching around the room for the brunette. My eyes sift through the piles of dirty clothes littering the floor. I rake through the closet before my eyes land on the bed.

"Dear god." I see him, gauze on his arm. He's collapsed in the bed, a pillow underneath his head and a blanket tucked around him. I rush over, jumping into the bed and inspecting him.

His arm is wrapped in bandages, his metallic arm slightly corroded. His eyes are staring at the ceiling, his mouth slightly ajar. "Steve?" He asks, low and slow. I let more tears fall from my eyes as I place my hand over his, lifting it to my lips.

"Oh god buck... I'm so sorry... I'm so, so, so, so sorry. God I'm such a fück up. I always leave you guys behind, letting you watch me from behind. What did I ever do to deserve you two... because I honestly don't. You two are angels in every way, and I'm the personification of hell... god Bucky why'd you do this..." his cuts are deeper than Steve's, almost to the bone. Most are healed over, the only fresh one on his upper bicep.

"Ash?" He asks, still not looking over. I let out a small cry, holding the back of his hand to my forehead. He moves his hand down, letting it rest on my cheek.

"Yeah baby?" He uses his hand to guide me above him. I can't stop the tears, hearing them hit the fabric as he moved me above him. His eyes are dull, blank, lifeless as they stare up at me. There's a small spark once his eyes focus, hope, before it fade away again.

"Is it really you this time?" He mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Yeah. It's me. I promise buck. I promise I'm back home sarge. And I promise I'm never going to leave you two again." I give his forehead a light kiss before hugging him, my nose finding the crook of his neck. I feel Steve come and lay behind me, putting an arm around my waist lightly.

"Good." Bucky turns on his side facing me, his fleshy warm arm finding its way behind my lower back, pulling me closer to him. Steve shifts forward, placing a sweet kiss on my neck. Bucky pecks my lips before closing his eyes. After a few minutes I hear him and Steve lightly snoring. I open my eyes to see Bucky looking peaceful for, which I would later find out, the first time in a long time.

|—☆—|

I wake up, a soft light seeping in through the curtains. I try to roll over, only to be stopped by two pairs of hands.

"Oh no, you're staying right here." Bucky's husky morning voice breaks the silence as I huff back down onto the covers. He smiles, his sunken eyes and pale face making me frown slightly.

I pull Bucky closer to me, Steve groaning slightly at more movement. "Go back to sleep babe..." he mumbles, pulling me closer to his chest.

"How can I? You two are too cute to miss a second of taking in those features." I smile as I brush my fingers over his beard. I kiss his forehead, smiling before turning to Bucky.

"Wait... how come Buck doesn't have a beard?" I ask, brushing my fingers along his stubble. He looks me in the eyes, a warm, comforting feeling falling over me.

"I remembered how you said you like me clean shaven... so I shave." He says, a smirk on his face as he scoots closer to me and Steve.

"Ok mister crowd pleaser." I give him a quick kiss, nestling myself closer to him and Steve.

|—☆—|

It took us literally until 1 in the afternoon to want to get up.

Steve has left first, going to the bathroom and taking a shower. Bucky followed close behind, then I joined him the the shower and helped him wash his hair. They had already gotten dressed in simple jeans and T-shirt's, now cleaning up some of the messes they made.

I look down at myself. I'm wearing a pair of black cotton leggings, converse, yet I have no top on. Then it hits me. 'Bucky's sweaters!' I walk over to the dresser, reaching down to open the sweater drawer before I suddenly stop.

"Maybe they don't want me to wear them right now..." I breathe out, letting my hand fall by my side. I mean, I did leave them. And return their sweaters. I mean, I know that they used to love me in them, and I love wearing them becuase they smell like  Steeb and buck, but may-

"Go on ash." Bucky's smooth voice rings throughout the room, interrupting my inner conflict.

I freeze for a second, suddenly having difficulty breathing at the same rate. I slowly turn around, letting my head fall to the side as my face contorts into a confused jumble of anxiety and fear. 

"Wha...?" I let the word slip out of my mouth, my breathing hitching.

"Go on doll. Take a sweater or two." He smiles, using the pet name he gave me when we first met.

I stand, my arms against the bar as I look out into the ensemble of people. A man with brown hair, with strikingly blue eyes sits next to me, getting a beer from the bartender.

"Hello doll. Why are you alone on such a night?" He asks, a small smirk gracing his angelic features.

"Well, some boys cheat and don't cover it up too well." I say, looking out around the crowd before watching my ex, Conrad, dancing with some blonde chick in a skimpy dress.

After a second, the man breaks the comfortable silence. "Ah, so he's a disloyal idiot then."

I turn my head to him, tilting my head to the side and back as my eyebrows furrow together. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, doll, any guy who get with you should stay loyal no matter what." He smiles as he sips his beer. "You're cute, and I can tell your Smart, witty, and filled with some sort of fire inside you."

"Well, it's nice to meet you sir. Names Ash. Ashlynd Moss." I smile, extending a hand to him.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Ash. I'm James." A metal arm reaches out to bring my hand up to his lips. I look at the small amount of the arm that is exposed, infatuated with the intricacy of it- even from a distance. He pulls his hand away quickly, moving it behind his back. "I-I'm sorry about that..."

"No no no, please it's nothing. In fact," I use my left hand to break the seal of the silicone on my hand. I pull the rubbery material off, sliding off the sleeve aswell. "I know exactly how you feel."  I let my metallic Vibranium appendage shine between us. (It starts in the middle of the lower half of her arm)

"Wow, that's beautiful doll."

I smile at Bucky, turning and opening the drawer. I take out his biggest, fluffiest blue and red sweater, pulling it on. The neckline falls off my shoulder and the hem is at my mid thigh, but I love it.

"Thank you James." I smile, raising the sleeve to my nose to let the sandalwood invade my lungs. I go over and sit between Steve and Bucky, leaning my head on Steve shoulder.

We sit in silence for a while, just looking at each other and kissing lightly. I stare down at my right hand for a while, contemplating if I should take off the cover or not.

"Oh fuck it." I say internally, egging myself on. I push up on the latex, breaking the seal. My hand pulls at each of the fingers, breaking the suction between the metal the the fleshy material. I pull lightly on the bottom of the sleeve before pushing it down from above.

"Ash, why?" Steve mutters, both his and Bucky's eyes burning into my back.

"Because, I except you guys fully for who you are, and you do the same, then why should I have to hide this huge part of myself?" I turn around and look at him and Bucky. I give them a small smile, getting big goofy ones in return.

"It isn't a huge part of you ash." Steve says, nuzzling into my neck.

"Steve, I lost a third of my arm. That's a huge part of me." I roll my eyes, kissing the top of his head.

"Physically, Maybe it's a huge part of you, but emotionally? No. It's not a part of who you are Ashlynd. It's something that made you who are today.

"Steve, I lost my arm to a red room newbie. That's despicable. I had finished the graduation ceremony, and the kid came up, broke my bone clean and ripped the flesh off." I look down at the fingers. Flexing them in and out.

"Maybe that did happen doll, but it doesn't mean anything." Bucky kisses my cheek. "You're still the best girl out there."

"So you're saying I can't beat you or clint?" I smile quietly as I say these words, leaning away from Steve to look Bucky in the eye.

“No." Bucky takes my metal hand in his, stroking it lightly. "But I am saying you're better than Natasha. At least."

[lesbiansastiel]

so far untitled fic

this is kind of my take on what happens in s5e16 (dark side of the moon) but it happens earlier in the season (like after the convention ep).

cas x sam, kind of dean negative, very gay & emotional. i use every pronouns for cas here dont mind that. title is reference to a Shura song. pls listen to it it’s good

Chapter 1. Nothing’s Real

Sam. Ashtabula, Ohio, 2009

He turns the Impala's radio on and takes another left turn, towards the beach. It's been a long while since Dean first gave him the keys of the car, after the talk they had about trying to be "more equal", whatever that meant. Since then, Sam has enjoyed being able to drive around and clear his mind from the job, and the hassle, and, well, Dean. Since the whole thing with Lucifer being freed, it has not really been easy living with Dean and having to bear the guilt of the world ending, as ridiculous as it sounds. Actually the only good thing to happen recently has been the permission to drive the Impala and get away, on the excuse of doing research, going shopping, or meeting with local hunters for more details on the job at hand. Sam takes the car, buys Dean something to eat from any gas station close by, and drives until it gets dark. Then he parks the car somewhere peaceful and sits there, listening to music (but never classic rock), or in silence.

Now he's parked in the parking lot near a tiny beach. The moon is almost full, and the parking lot is dimly lit with street lamps. He's wearing a winter jacket but the car is nicely warm after the drive so he takes it off and throws it on the passenger seat. He has not had time to think about normal everyday regular life things in so long, because they barely even live anymore. Yet, somehow, when he just sits in the car and lets his brain choose the thoughts, he ends up thinking about normal things, like the increasing price of gas, his old friends and how they're doing, the state of Dean and his laundry pile back at the motel, all the little things of regular life he needs to take care of before hitting the next case.

But his everyday life is more than those things. Here, alone, in silence, he can think about the other stuff too, without feeling the weight of it all. More often than not, when he takes time off to drive, Sam thinks about the angels, and Ruby, even Jess, even their parents. He wonders if God really is real, and out there, and if Cas will be able to find them. Sam misses Cas when the angel is not around, he has this weird anxiety about Cas being gone some morning, for good. Sam wants Cas to know how much he thinks about them, how much Cas helps him and Dean, more than just with his powers. That stupid trench coat brings them hope. At least to Sam, since Sam can't say for Dean, who seems to have given up all of his hope. Sam has all the pressure, making sure he never shows Dean how much Sam fears, how weak he is. He wonders if Cas, and the other angels, can see how weak Sam is. If they can tap into his thoughts at any moment and just see how much sadness and misery he holds, that any moment he could snap and give up the fight.

Sam won't do it, though. He's meant to fight this fight, till the end, even if it kills him. Sometimes when he goes on these drives, he cries thinking of it all.

Sometimes when he does, he hopes Cas would be there when he opens his eyes.

That seems to only happen to Dean, though. And it’s not like Cas would know where Sam is right now, because of the Enochian sigils. Sam opens his eyes slowly and turns the radio off. No one else in the car, or outside of it. His limbs are getting tired and his eyes feel heavier and heavier. He rolls down the window to let in some fresh air and the sounds of the waves and the wind come with. When he places his head back against the seat and takes a long breath in he gets goosebumps on his arms. It’s a weird feeling, drifting away in a familiar car, at a strange beach, in the dark. The impala is more than just a familiar car, it feels more like home to Sam than anything else does. Falling asleep in this car is more familiar than falling asleep anywhere else. The sound of the waves, crashing in and out, the wind humming in the air, the cool autumn air, lull Sam fast to sleep. 

When he next wakes up, he is shivering all over. It takes half a second to realise why, with the breeze coming from the window, so he rolls the window back up and takes his jacket from the passenger seat and onto his lap and covers himself with it. Sam yawns again and looks at the clock on the dash. It’s two AM. He had left the motel at midnight. Dean is probably asleep by now, so he’s not in any hurry. He ends up just sitting there for a while, with his mind black. Eventually he takes his phone out of his jeans’ front pocket to check for messages, just in case. Three notifications, one message from Dean, one call from Dean and one call from Cas. Sam reads the message, it says to come back to the motel,  sits up straight and pulls the jacket on. He’s not panicking, but he’s not calm either. He turns the keys in the ignition switch and backs away from the parking lot. He drives fast, but not quite as fast as he could, and tries to keep calm. Why had Cas called?

Sometimes when Sam is alone, his brain goes fuzzy, like he’s resetting from his social-Sam back into himself, his brain not quite making sense in words, his thoughts kind of blurry, memories hazy. Being alone is truly freeing, but it’s also sad and lonely. He tries not to like it too much, because being lonely is his way of punishing himself, too, and liking it would mean he wants to punish himself, to make himself miserable. So he tries to keep himself social, talk to people, think of people, spend time with Dean outside of the jobs, try to remember that he is worthy of love and appreciation. He tries really hard to be loved, so that he doesn’t forget that he deserves it, too. Dean rarely shows his appreciation. Not with words or affection, anyway. Dean has probably saved Sam’s ass more times than he has in any way signaled that he doesn’t hate to spend time with him. Sam does try to be “touchy-feely” but Dean won’t let him. He turns it into a joke, tries to silence Sam with hurtful truths, anything to stop feelings from happening. In fact, Dean’s feelings are so repressed Sam sometimes wonders if Dean has feelings at all. But Sam tries to understand, after all, Dean is an innocent man who was in Hell for what felt like 40 years. And from what Sam understands, he even remembers it all. Sam tires himself imagining how hell must’ve been, trying to find anything to say to help, comparisons to draw to make himself understand Dean. Sam tries to imagine Dean as a war veteran who was on the battlefield for 40 years, but somehow, even that doesn’t quite compare. Sam often wonders about how Cas saved Dean, tries to imagine how a soul is grabbed from literal Hell and raised to a body quite like the original thing but without the scars. How does Cas have that power, when not a single demon Sam killed seemed to think it was possible? And why do it? And why was it Cas? And who gave the order?

After a 10-minute drive Sam comes to the centre of town and there is a big knot in his belly. The night is too ominous, too dark and yet too calm to make sense of and Sam doesn’t like it. The straight road continues for too long and Sam feels helpless. There is so much fear and anxiety in his life he can barely contain it. Sam’s mind is fuzzy with nothing but the words “please be okay, please be okay, please be okay”. 

The motel is around the corner, and its cheap neon lights are reflected on the wet asphalt. Sam parks the car swiftly in front of their room and hurries out of it. His back and legs are sore from sitting for so long and he feels like he’s getting old too fast. The room number is 12, the door yellow. Sam doesn’t have keys, but the door is unlocked. 

He marches in and sees Dean and Cas sitting on the two beds, silent, Dean looking uncomfortable, Cas staring at the wall. They both look at him, and Dean looks tired.

“What is it?” Sam lets out a big breath of air and puts the car keys on the table next to the door.

“Where were you?” Dean says with no change in expression.

“Just, out” Sam points to the general direction of the beach with his head.

“Well, Cas here,” Dean looks at Cas, “found something.”

Cas looks at Sam with a regular expression, not the frowny one, and Sam is relieved. 

“Oh?” Sam says and rips the jacket off himself. The motel room is way too warm. Cas sits silently, looking deep in thought, and Dean stands up from the bed, and walks to the other corner of the room. Then he walks back. 

“Cas? Please share with the rest of the class,” Dean sounds annoyed and sits on the couch that is on the opposite wall from the door. 

Cas looks at Dean and then Sam. He seems worried… or anxious.

“I’m going to find God,” Cas begins and looks at Sam, “and I will need your help.”

“Of course, but I don’t think there’s much we can do-” “Not us, Sam. You,” Dean says, frustrated. 

“I’m taking you to heaven, Sam,” Cas says, “to find Joshua.”