#cars concerts and so on he would probably been a good match for them as a group. they all seemed to need a mentor figure who could lead

[juliatulia]

But Johnny told a different story when they went to New York. Johnny said that he and moz went to buy records and clothes. I think Morrissey is lying about it. I feel like he knows the real reason Joe Moss left, but instead of telling the truth, he acted like Moss and the rest of the band were planning to get rid of him

Are you confusing the trip they took in early 1984 with the tour in 1986? The 84 one seems very harmonious and productive, but on the later one things seems to have changed.

Some book or article refers to the Joe Moss thing (dont remember where) that he (and mike and andy) wanted the whole homoeroticism thing toned down a lot. Seems to woken some bad feelings among them that they should be so "flagrant". The song What do you see in him later became Wonderful Woman at I think Joes insistence. If he was a spokesperson for the other two or speaking for him self, i dont know.

The whole deal with the Joe Moss affair is so dufficult to judge 40 years later. The man has been dead for years and he didnt speak to the press about his time as manager. I never got a grasp of him as a person. Did he see Morrissey as a weak card in the line up? Did he just dislike him? Did he want The Smiths as a pure rock group who would appeal to the most neanderthal amongst us? Who knows. I never knew or understood why he suddenly left but I think if he meddled with artistic output, he wasnt going to last anyway.

[foreverdolly]

this is a self pitying post and i’ll probably delete it later- but when i’m sad i tend to write it out. i’ve used this blog like a diary of sorts for the last two and a half years. i’ve developed a relationship with a lot of you on here and i appreciate all the love i’ve received so far on my last post. my friends that i have in real life, no matter how long i’ve known them, don’t know too much about my upbringing or my parents. i hate the idea of trauma dumping- it’s uncomfortable for other people: so don’t read this if you don’t want to. i wouldn’t blame you.

my dad died from cirrhosis due to alcoholism. he died miserable and alone. he had no friends. his family was sick of him. i tried to call him as often as i could but sometimes he could be mean if he was drunk. i knew not to call him after 11:00 in the afternoon because he would start to drink. he lived in his youngest brother’s basement and almost never came upstairs because he was embarrassed. i haven’t seen him in three years because he lives fourteen hours from me, but i tried my hardest to call him every week and keep him involved in my life. he never saw any of my homes, never met any of my friends, and never even saw me drive a car (i’ve been licensed since i was eighteen). i cried to him almost every week, begging him to get sober.

he never recovered from my parent’s divorce, and for that i feel so sorry. he called my mother his soulmate and always spoke in past tense- talking about when me and my brother were little. he would tear up when talking about the first time he ever saw me in the hospital after my mother gave birth, and he was vocal about the fact that i was his favorite. we shared a lot of the the same interests and always had fun when talking.

when my mom made a suicide attempt two years ago he was there for me almost everyday, calling me despite the demons he was battling with himself.

the last time i spoke to him was thursday- a week from the day he died. he told me that he almost called a treatment facility but he got tired and took a nap instead. his doctors appointment was today at one and he was going to ask to be admitted and then go to a rehab facility. i told him i’d send him money while he was in there- he hasn’t been able to hold a job since i was still in high school.

my dad was a chef. a damn good cook- classically trained in french cooking. he had the loudest laugh i’ve ever heard, so much so that it used to make me cry when i was a baby. we used to wear matching costumes and he’d sign me out from school on halloween and call me out the day after. he took me to my first concert, but he couldn’t afford both the gas and the tickets (so i paid for the gas with my pocket change at the age of thirteen). he wore adidas strictly- shell toe was his favorite.

when i was little my dad was on night duty while my mom was away: tucking us in, reading us books. he refused to read to me and walked out the door but not before saying “bed bugs and stuff”. i thought it was so funny. it became our saying. every night we spent with each other we said “bed bugs and stuff”. so that was my last send off to him. i hope he’s finally resting well and isn’t depressed, ashamed or lonely anymore where he is.

he died in his sleep. they found a solo cup filled with vodka next to his bed and i can’t stop thinking about the fact that he was going to get help today. he was yellow due to jaundice. what a cruel world.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝟏

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: After moving to Hawkings for a fresh start, you meet a boy with kind, brown eyes who will quickly become a friend and maybe something more. The only problem is: you took something that belongs to him by accident and now you don't know what to do.

A/N: Yes, there will be more parts. No, i don't know when. I hope this start doesn't suck.

You kind of hated how you had thought moving there was a good idea. Of course, your aunt had told you that she would welcome you with open arms if you ever decided to go and live with her but she had never told you that the people there seemed to look all the same and that everyone would have stared at you in a weird way, being the only crazy person who moved there after years of no new arrivals.

Hawkins was a small midwestern town located in Roane County in the state of Indiana and it wasn't hard to tell that it wasn't a very busy or interesting place even though you were driving down the main street for the first time, heading towards the house where you were supposed to live for quite some time, if everything would have gone as it should and your aunt hadn't decided to get rid of you after a few days, like you had basically done with your parents.

You looked first on the left and then the right side of the road, while the music was still playing loudly in the vehicle, trying to figure out which way you were supposed to go, then you remembered that you had a map of the city somewhere in your pickup.

You glanced at the back seats, where there were several suitcases and a few bags full of things that you would probably never need and which were just taking up a lot of space in your car already always full of various junk.

You noticed a lamp peeking out from a bag and wondered for the second time that morning what the hell was going on in your mind.

"C'mon, where are you?" You talked to yourself, searching through the sea of ​​objects scattered on the dashboard: a concert ticket, some polaroids containing memories of a life you were leaving behind (which had fallen from the ceiling of the car where you kept at least fifty of them fixed with tacks), a horror book by an unknown writer (the school library had crossed it out because it was considered inappropriate for kids), a shoe whose match had been lost while you were packing your bags, a half-empty green spray can and no trace of the city map.

The car behind you honked: you had not moved for at least two minutes.

"I'm trying to figure out where I need to go! I'm sorry!" You shouted through the rolled down window before the car passed you and a man gave you the middle finger.

"Rude." You commented, sighing and thinking about what to do.

Did continuing to wander around the city until you found the right path make sense?

You were about to restart the pickup when you saw a boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen and a taller, blond boy wearing a green and white jacket talking to each other as they walked along the sidewalk.

You grabbed your leather jacket and got out of the car, hoping no one would complain about the inappropriate place you were leaving it. Your driving teacher was probably right when she told you you sucked at parking.

"I'll be right back Casper." You said to the thing in the passenger seat. Nobody responded.

You reached the two boys just as the blond guy took the hat off the younger one, laughing.

You didn't immediately understand what was happening.

"Sorry, do you know where I can find-"

"Hey! Give it back!" The younger one tried to grab the hat while the other laughed, raising his arm straight up so he couldn't reach it.

"Give what back?" The blond laughed.

You cleared your throat. The two turned to you suddenly.

"What do you want?" The older one asked in an annoyed tone, looking you up and down.

"I wanted to know where Piney Wood Lane was but now I don't wanna talk with you anymore. Give the hat back."

He snorted as if I had come to ruin the party. "You can never have fun with you weirdos around."

You caught it before it landed in a puddle as the blonde dropped it to the ground.

He pointed to the kid saying something like "I'm not fucking done with you" before walking away.

"What a nice guy!" You yelled after him as he turned the corner.

"As always." The younger commented.

"Is everyone like this around here? I just moved but people like him make me want to go back to where I came from." You handed the hat back to him with a half smile.

You hated people like that guy, you had never understood how anyone could take pleasure in making someone else suffer.

"Not all. Most but not all, some of my friends are really cool. Thanks for that." He put the hat back on his head, covering his short curls, on his face a grateful expression even if you didn't do much.

You found yourself wondering what these "cool friends" of his were like.

"Good to know." You sighed ironically.

“I'm Dustin, by the way.” Dustin smiled at you.

You said your name and shook his hand, you thought that you had known that kid for about five minutes and you would already do anything to protect him.

Dustin looked at the car parked behind you. “Your car is so cool!” He commented in amazement, pointing with his finger at the drawings standing out against the black background, on the side of it.

"Thanks, it's a mess but it represents me, I think."

“Wait, what is that thing sitting in the passenger seat?”

"Oh, that's Casper!"

"It's a-"

"A skeleton, yes. My biology teacher let me borrow it from his class."

Dustin looked at you questioningly.

"Okay, I stole it. But he's a great travel companion, and never complains about the music I choose."

Dustin laughed. "I swear, you would love my friends."

"And I really would like to get to know them but now, could you help me find Piney Wood Lane? I lost the map in the middle of all the shit in my car."

"Sure I can, I know that street!" The boy nodded, hoping that you could become one of his "cool friends".

That afternoon, what had become your room was already full of stuff scattered around and suitcases that you didn't feel like unpacking everywhere. The posters you would soon hang were on the desk but you had decided to leave Casper in the car for a while longer. You had put most of your clothes in the closet and packed a bag full of spray cans with the intention of going out and finding a nice wall to do your first mural in the new town.

That time you didn't have any of your friends to make sure the cops didn't come but you figured that for your first few days there, you could manage on your own.

You grabbed a book in case you found a quiet place to read: you felt safer when you went out taking a book with you, even if you weren't sure you'd find a place or time to read.

“Are you going to explore the town?” Your aunt asked with a smile as you came out of your room with your bag over your shoulder.

You couldn't help but be grateful to her, she had said she would treat you like a daughter and give you a room of your own and that was exactly what she had done. You hadn't seen her in years and you didn't know each other very well but for the moment you seemed to get along well and your relationship seemed more peaceful than the one you'd had with many people in your old hometown.

Maybe this was really a new beginning for you.

"Yeah, something like that." You tried to sound convincing.

"Okay, don't get in trouble on your first day here."

You smiled.

"Oh, I would never do that."

You jumped off the trash can you were standing on, in the alley you had chosen for your mural.

You turned the spray can in your paint-stained hands, observing the work on the wall in front of you: you liked dragons in fantasy stories, you thought it might be nice to experiment with something like that.

"Yeah, you don’t look that bad." You said to the creature painted on the wall, before noticing that the sun was starting to set and it was probably time to go home.

You put the spray cans back in your bag and threw the empty ones into the bins you climbed onto.

Then, you heard a noise.

"Please don't be a cop." You muttered to yourself, placing your bag over your shoulder and walking out of the alley.

The footsteps got closer.

"Please don't be a cop." You repeated, keeping your gaze down as you rounded the corner, hoping to escape, that way, from whoever was coming in your direction.

Of course, luck wasn't on your side, as always: you collided with the person who was coming in your direction and if they hadn't grabbed you by the arm you would have surely ended up on the ground like the rest of your stuff.

Your book, your bag, and several spray cans scattered across the ground, some rolling away from you.

"Shit." You said through your teeth, looking up to look into the eyes of the person you had collided with.

A gentle and slightly worried gaze met yours, his chocolate brown eyes watching you as if to make sure you were okay. His expression was completely different from the way the boy who was bothering Dustin had looked at you that morning.

His messy, curly hair was brown like his eyes and his slight smile was reassuring.

"Are you good?" He asked, letting go of your arm after making sure you wouldn't fall.

"Oh, thank god you're not a cop!"

“And neither are you, good for both of us.” He chuckled before helping you pick up what you had dropped. You did the same, so quickly that you didn't even realize you had put something in the bag that didn't belong to you.

"I'm fine." You grabbed the spray can he was holding out to you, your fingers grazed his, adorned with chunky silver rings, and the action made you feel a weird sensation that you couldn't identify and that only lasted a few seconds in your stomach, “thank you.”

"It's a pleasure. It's always nice to help pretty girls break the law." He chuckled.

"I wasn't breaking any laws." You rolled your eyes, aware that you both knew you were lying, almost without realizing that he had called you pretty.

"Then why did you hope I wasn't a cop?"

"Maybe I just think they're not nice."

"Well, believe me, I've been arrested several times and I can guarantee you that most of them aren't."

You raised your eyebrows. "You've been arrested several times? What the hell did you do?"

"You really don't wanna know."

“Okay mystery man,” You rolled your eyes, the boy laughed at the nickname and you immediately liked the sound of it, then you held out your hand, introducing yourself.

He shook it and you felt that feeling in your stomach again but decided to ignore it, “Eddie.”

"Okay Eddie, are you good at giving an unbiased opinion on a mural done in an alley while standing on garbage bins?" You asked and without even waiting for an answer you started pushing him towards the dragon on the wall.

Usually you didn't need random strangers' opinions on your street art but this time you felt like you wanted to spend more time with that metal singer looking guy with the sweetest eyes you'd ever seen. And also, he wasn't a stranger anymore, he was Eddie.

“Oh sure, I was born for that.” He stated confidently.

Your laughter echoed down the alley as you reached the mural.

"There we go. Now you are an accessory to the crime."

"Well, in reality.... I didn't do anything. I'm just an innocent witness."

"You have paint on your hands."

"I don't-" He looked at his palms and realized you had stained one of his hands with green paint when you held it. "Oh, fuck you."

You laughed. "So? What do you think?"

“I think it's worthy of being on the cover of a metal album, it's amazing, really.”

"Well, thanks. For now it will stay on the wall of a dark alley."

"Really, that's so fucking cool. You should do this as a job or something like that."

"Well, I'm still in high school and I'm looking for someone who needs a babysitter to earn some money so... not yet, I guess."

"Well then I guess we'll meet there."

“Are you still in high school?”

Eddie sighed, as if expecting a joke on that.

"Hey, we don't judge people here. What do you expect from a girl who's spending her Sunday afternoon with a stranger chatting in front of some garbage cans?"

"I expect her to be cool as hell. And well-" He paused, as if thinking about it carefully, "I think she is."

You couldn't help but laugh again.

When you got home you still had a stupid smile on your face. You liked Eddie, you liked the way he made you feel like you didn't have to pretend to be someone else around him, you liked the way he called you "pretty" five more times that afternoon, you liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about music, you liked the way he kindly asked you if he could walk you home since the sky was getting dark and he didn't want anything bad to happen to you, you liked the sound of his laughter and the way he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks when you told him that your opinion on Hawkings had become better after you met him.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Your aunt asked you when you entered the house.

"I met a boy."

She smirked.

"Don't look at me with that face, I just met him. He was just being nice."

"Mh-mh sure." She laughed as you rolled your eyes and walked into your room, leaving your bag on the bed.

When you unzipped it, something inside caught your attention: a small, brown leather-covered notebook you'd never seen before.

Your first thought was how the hell did he end up in there, then you remembered your clash with Eddie a few hours earlier. Was it possible that you had taken it without realizing it?

You got under the covers with the notebook in your hands. It was small but the pages were so many and so thin that someone could have started writing in it years before and still not filled it all.

You knew you shouldn't have done it, it might have contained private things, but you couldn't resist.

You opened it.

As soon as you did, a black and white photo of a girl with dark hair and a sun dress fell off the first page.

She was smiling and she was really pretty, you wondered who she could be. In the background you could see a garden and the sun shining in the sky.

It was wrinkled as if someone had held it in their hands for a long time.

Then, you read the first lines of the first page of the notebook. The writing was messy but legible, some words had been crossed out and rewritten probably due to some grammatical error or unclear thoughts.

"I realized that I almost don't remember her anymore and that's the thing that scares me the most. I don't want to forget her."

You couldn't help but wonder how you could feel the pain in those words simply by reading them in an old, crumpled notebook.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

[atom-writings]

hetalia axis & allies (+ canada) xmas headcanons

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: uhhh christmas obviously. mention of religion and underwear?? uh... i think that's it

a/n: this is my first christmas as a jewish convert so that's been weird. anyway I just wanted something quick, so its mostly a list of gift ideas (:

America

Alfred is SUCH a huge Christmas fan. I mean, canonically he dresses up as Santa, so he goes all out for the entire month of December. He's been working on a huge holiday home display for decades, and it shows.

He plays Santa at his local mall during the weeks leading up to Christmas; and on the night of, he hands out hot cocoa outside his house. It's fun, but it also means he's a little distracted when it comes to you.

What he would get you: Posters of your favourite movies, super comfy pyjamas, expensive figures of characters you like, candy you like but never get for yourself, model planes or Legos for you two to build together, novelty pens, a stupid cowboy costume so you can match <3, those handmade coupons because he 1. Loves you and 2. Forgot about Christmas until yesterday

What he would want: Any video games, Funko Pops, vinyls of music he likes, those big packs of shirts (he is constantly running out of shirts because he rips or irreparably stains them,) Marvel comics, anything with an eagle on it, those mini wacky waving inflatable tube men things, bulk pens and pencils because he also breaks those constantly-

England

Arthur is not big into Christmas and never has been. He'll celebrate with you, but he's not going out when it comes to any aspect. If anything, he finds it a little exhausting getting gifts for everyone

But, he does adore walking around and looking at all the lights. He'll do that a couple times with you in December.

What he would get you: Any novel you’ve mentioned even once, tickets to a concert both of you will enjoy, classy jackets that fit you perfectly, cute keychains, fancy art supplies, fragrances that remind him of you, bags/purses that fit your style, CDs

What he would want: Sewing supplies (thread, new needles, new fabric scissors,) framed photos of the two of you, Doctor Who merch, foreign tea, a book on how to take care of your eyebrows properly (he will not learn otherwise,) slippers, those sarcastic magnets that all millennial women have at least one of, any ridiculous piece of merch with the union jack on it

France

Francis has very mixed feelings about Christmas. On one hand, he hates how consumerist it has become, but on the other hand, nothing makes him happier than seeing the joy the season brings to others.

Plus, he does enjoy giving and receiving presents. The music too? Wonderful. As long as you don't get too stressed out, the holiday should be perfect.

What he would get you: Tons of clothes; stuff that's already your style, and completely new stuff, room decorations (NOT posters,) a reservation at a nice restaurant, bracelets that he made for you, makeup (if you like that kind of thing,) candles that smell like his cologne, CHEESE

What he would want: Fancy fabric, any clothes (he doesn’t care what they are as long as you think they’d look good on him…) paintings or photography, literally ANYTHING creative you’ve made, hair ties (he loses at least 5 a day,) bird stuffed animals, (Basically anything! Francis is not picky)

China

Christmas is a new occurrence for Yao, and he isn't the biggest fan. He'll buy you stuff for it, but he would do that normally. The lights and the music aren't anything special to him either. Basically, he won't celebrate unless you want to.

What he would get you: Elaborate, very expensive jewellery, huge stuff like a car, Chinese cookbooks, traditional clothes that he made specifically to represent you (: luxury handbags (that he got at SUCH a good discount,) tons of weird off-brand merch of your favourite show, probably a nice meal too!

What he would want: Yao is hard to buy for. Soft robes, stuff to help with back pain, face masks, Hello Kitty keychains… reading glasses maybe?

Russia

Although he isn't as excited about Christmas as he is about the New Year, he still loves the holiday. It's a nice excuse to see family, and everyone is just so happy around the season! He's especially excited to celebrate it with you.

He's not the best at giving gifts, but he could be worse. Regardless of whether you like all of it, you're gonna get a lot of stuff.

(Also, he plays Santa for the kids sometimes. It's so cute-)

What he would get you: Random knick-knacks he probably found at a local market, knitted hats and gloves in your favourite colour, a scarf to match his, tickets to go somewhere warm on vacation, stuffed animals! books that made him think of you (usually philosophical or religious novels,) pretty rocks (:

What he would want: SUNFLOWERS! (This works for every occasion,) baked goods, clothes that aren’t 250 years old- new doilies and paintings to decorate his house, pictures of yourself, friendship bracelets, stuffed animals, if you can make a scarf somehow, DO THAT

North Italy

Feliciano cares about Christmas in a more religious way, but he's never mad about getting presents. So, he'll probably spend most of the day in church, but he still did put a lot of effort into getting you stuff you love.

What he would get you: Pajamas & bath robes, shitty romance novels that he wants you to read, weird hand-made knick-knacks, makeup, strange mugs that he found at a thrift store, a painting of you (: probably a pair of his boxers-

What he would want: New paint brushes, novelty pasta shapes, fancy jackets, any art that you’ve made (regardless of quality,) cat stuffed animals, The Ability To Get A Grip, skincare products, shiny garbage (For art purposes, duh,) those handmade coupon things

Germany

Ludwig does not enjoy Christmas particularly. He's terrible at giving gifts but he wants to so desperately that he spends all of winter stressing out about it. Yes, he's excited to see your reaction to his gifts, but at what cost?!

Although he does still like all the decorations at least. Maybe he just likes re-decorating though.

What he would get you: Puzzles you can complete together, soft sweaters, practical stuff you need (like book bags, lens cloths, that kind of thing,) stationery, reservations for private tours at museums you would find interesting, a subscription to whatever silly service you want (:

What he would want: Books about city planning, nerdy card games, a fun lanyard, a new coffee machine, those aroma-therapy diffuser things, household tools like vacuums and stuff (Get him an air fryer. He’s going to be fascinated.) stress balls, pens (He is boring.)

Japan

Kiku really has no particular feelings towards Christmas. If you weren't there, the most he would do was put up a mini tree. He's stressed out by both giving and receiving presents and is only willing to do that kind of thing if you want to.

What he would get you: Electronics, merch of your favourite Sanrio character, books that he thinks you’ll like, stickers, a bento box, comfy sweatpants, cute hairpins, plushies from your favourite media, a bunch of pillows, some obscure Japanese snacks too!

What he would want: Miku figures, posters, video games, manga, general nerdy stuff, history novels (he likes to correct them,) blackout curtains, cute face masks, a Polaroid camera, a guide on socialization (Seriously.) a knit scarf, if you can knit (:

South Italy

Romano desperately wants to care about Jesus more than getting gifts. He's a devout catholic, g*ddamnit! But... he does just really love eating baked goods and getting gifts more than anything. Getting together with family, the music, the lights, he just ADORES the holiday.

What he would get you: Blankets and pillows, your favourite snacks, clothes that are a little more revealing- cruise tickets (if going on wouldn’t be hell for you,) a journal where he wrote down all of the things he loves about you (completely honestly,) religious items, fancy perfumes

What he would want: Paintings from local artists, post-its (so he can finally remember SOMETHING,) anything with the Italian flag on it, stupid bumper stickers, pictures of the other nations that you’ve written insults on, fancy patterned scarves and fabric

Prussia

Like Alfred, Gilbert loves Christmas in a very childish way. He embraces that side of himself during the holidays and he'd love it if you joined him in that. He constantly insists on going out to see the lights, and he just can't get enough of Christmas movies. Even the bad ones (He's a Hallmark girlie.)

What he would get you: A vintage music box, hair dye, DVDs of your favourite movies (just to have,) stationery, random snacks he picked up from a gas station an hour ago, weirdly sentimental jewellery? Vintage journals, pictures of himself

What he would want: Coupons (???) goofy temporary tattoos, metal CDs, tea (he’s weirdly embarrassed about liking tea and doesn’t buy it for himself?) vintage maps that he can frame and hang up, probably like, WD40? DC comics, novelty trophies, Pokemon cards, video games

Canada

More than anything, Matthew loves winter. So, therefore, he loves Christmas! Seeing you smile when you open your gifts, he looks forward to it all season. It seems like the only time of year when everyone else is either as miserable or as happy as he is, so it's his favourite holiday.

Cuddling up in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa, watching some old Christmas movie, its all he wants.

What he would get you: Comfy hoodies, comfy slippers too, hot cocoa packs, big stuff like a new PC or fridge or smth- decorations for your room, face masks, fidget toys, novelty Canadian keychains, figures of your favourite characters, festive sweets (like candy-canes and stuff.)

What he would want: Anything with a maple leaf (yes, he wants MORE of that,) boring stuff like socks, wood-working tools or like a new snow shovel, fairy lights, DVDs (because he still uses them? Why.) a new phone case, gift cards (HES BORING,) pre-packaged crafts, lotion and cologne that smells like pine

merry christmas if you celebrate! this'll probably be the last full thing I post until 2024, so thanks to all you readers for sticking around this year (: you have no idea how much it means to me. i love yall. and to all a good night or whatever santa said

[sanguineterrain]

honey!! number 11 on the prompt list is so steve coded, don’t ya think??

it so totally is 🥰 11. back hugs

steve h x gn!reader. good ol' pining besties <3

****

"Robin," you say. "You're overthinking it."

"Signals, Y/N. People have signals. A hand on your wrist, a secret smile. Signals! Now: was Vickie sending me signals? We have to explore all possibilities. But mostly, the answer is probably no. She just wants to hang."

"She asked you to brunch. People our age do not go to brunch."

"Brunch is classy!"

"Brunch is a breakfast date," you scoff. "Brunch is I want to get a cat with you."

"Well, I think—" Robin groans, glancing over your shoulder. "Oh, God. Heads up. Loverboy, twelve o'clock."

Before you can turn, you're being swept into a warm hug from behind. Steve's cheek presses to yours, his chin tucked in your neck. The tip of his nose is cold from outside as it brushes your jaw. Your heart haywires.

"Steve!" you squeal, his arms around your waist. "What're you doing?"

"You're gonna love me," he says into your ear.

Already do.

"Am I now?"

He walks around to face you.

"Yup," he says, popping the 'p'. "Look at these."

Steve holds up two slips of paper. Tickets to Bruce Springsteen at Soldier Field.

"Holy shit!" you cry, and throw your arms around him. He catches you with a laugh.

"These must've cost a fortune! How did you get them? I thought they were all sold out."

Steve shrugs. "I know people. So, interested?"

He knows it's all you've been talking about (and lamenting over when the tickets sold out in three minutes). Bruce Springsteen is one of your favorites.

"You didn't—Steve," you say in awe. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Consider it an early birthday present."

"Then I want you to come with me."

"Wh—me?"

You scoff. "Who else would I bring?"

"Someone who actually knows Springsteen songs?"

"You know enough of his hits. I mean, if you really don't want to go..."

"No!" He shakes his head. "No, Y/N, obviously I'll go. I just didn't want you to be embarrassed when I'm the only person there who doesn't know Glory Days."

"Well, that's why we're gonna listen to Born in the USA everyday until the concert," you grin. "Get you prepped."

Steve groans. "Can't believe you're giving me homework."

You turn to put the tickets in your bag. Steve crowds you as you do, chin on your shoulder. He's always affectionate with you, loose with his touches and pets.

Robin looks at you, brows to her hairline.

"It's fun homework," you say, ignoring Robin with all your might. "We can listen to the tapes in your car 'cause you've got the fancy sound system."

"That why you're friends with me?" Steve asks, arms curling around your belly. "Just for perks?"

You grin. "No comment. But the concert tickets have definitely moved you up to best friend status."

"Where was I before?"

You pat his cheek. Steve pretends to grumble for another moment before slipping away. Instantly, you miss the warmth of his embrace.

"If you're done clinging to Y/N," Robin starts. "The new releases need to be shelved."

Steve throws her an eye roll but goes, giving you one last smile. You return it sheepishly. Robin watches you like a hawk.

You finally relent when Steve's far enough away.

"What is it now, Robs?"

"Signals," is all she says.

"Concert tickets is not a signal, Robin."

"Oh, it's something. Steve's music taste is whatever's on the radio."

"Not true! He listens to Queen and Fleetwood Mac and AC/DC and—"

"Because of you." Robin huffs. "It's you, Y/N, it's all for you. And you're both so deeply in denial you think it's just friendship things."

"He's just..." You watch Steve stack the videos on the shelf.

The enamel pin you got him a few months ago is on his FV vest. It's a bumblebee that says bee mine! You'd thought it was cute and fun and that Steve would like it. He wears it everyday, even if it doesn't match his outfit at all.

You look at Robin, your heart in your throat.

"Signals?" you ask quietly.

She nods.

"Now you're getting it."

[lexithwrites]

begging on bended knee for your bcj headcannons 🧎🏼‍♀️

ah bcj my beloved (throwing in some bartylus content too)

so i have a headcanon that he has a younger sister, amelie, and they're v close, he's very protective of her and is the scary older brother to everyone but her

he is also super close with his mum but not his dad, his dad is kind of a dick and was always strict on barty to be like him even though they're opposites

his dad also didnt take barty's mental health problems into account and thinks hes fine lmao

barty to me is anywhere between 5'11—6'4, i love my tall king

he has bright blue eyes, almost grey, and brown hair that he usually dyes black with a random colour in it (recently the calico hair trend has been on my fyp so he does that for sure)

he's very much into metal, rock and screamo music and loves going to concerts and mosh pits

he can play guitar and drums and he can sing

he's ambidextrous (he makes masturbation jokes about this all the time)

riddled with ADHD my god, he's on medication now but as a kid he wasn't allowed because of his dad

i love italian barty on his mothers side, they have a holiday home in venice and he is fluent in italian as he was taught by her

he hates wearing matching socks so he always mixes them up

covered in tattoos and has a lot of piercings but did take out a lot of facial ones because they scared his sister

loves horror movies and scaring people (but knows their limits)

if he's dating regulus he's secretly very clingy, he can be openly affectionate but he keeps in how much he loves him and wants him all to himself

does kind of have a kink where regulus flirts with someone else to rile him up

lost his virginity pretty young to a very toxic partner that pressured him, not knowing how that would affect him, and slept around until he met reg, so his views on sex are kinda fucked up until that point (he doesn't think people like him for him only his body)

has a butterfly knife collection

his 'hardest' kinks are probably blood and asphyxiation on himself, he never wants it to happen to other people

has a pet snake called fluffy, shes his babygirl

spoils his sister for her birthday every year

he's either a bartender or a resturant cook, i can never decide. maybe both, hospitality sucks (he could also be a tattoo artist or a piercer, that suits him too)

dorcas, evan and pandora are his closest friends, they're basically family

has a tongue piercing but regulus has been trying to convince him not to split his tongue lmao

is actually very good with his money and has savings, its the one thing he took away from his dad's advice

has a car but prefers walking everywhere

only wears doc martins or converse

his fav colours are black and green and purple

very good at card games and has a pack of cards on him at all times

[somethingboutafic]

OT5 Friendship

Get Out Of My Head (and I'll get out of yours) by Imogenlee (E) word count: 29,128 The one for the Bottom Harry Fic Fest where Harry bottoming is more of a side plot, because angst got in the way--but it doesn't really matter because the fest stopped existing when I was halfthrough.

nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres (M) word count: 37,265 harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

waiting for the tides to meet by nauticalleeds (E) word count: 59,877 Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Atlas At Last by louisandthealien (M) word count: 83,037 Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall. It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

Stranger Than Larry Fiction by Larrysmomfics (M) word count: 90,736 It's been twelve years since Harry met Louis on TXF, became best mates with him, eventually falling head over heels in love with him. Six years post One Direction deciding to go on hiatus and now everyone is doing their own thing. All the boys have solo careers, some are touring, and with their busy lives in play, Harry and Louis have sort of grown apart. Harry's been filling the Louis void by devouring Larry fanfics, giving himself a chance to love Louis from afar in his own way. So far it's worked for him and he's content with his love of Louis being of the unrequited variety. That all changes, however, when Harry reads a particularly emotional and classic fic in the fandom, and he simply can't help but call Louis despite his sobs to tell him all about it, inadvertently sending Louis down the Larry fic rabbit hole as well. OR A canon-divergent AU where Louis and Harry read Larry Stylinson fanfiction

Parallel by SomeDovesFly (E) word count: 96,550 OT5 poly AU, BDSM comfort fic. OT5 work on a hit show called Excavated where Louis, Harry, and Liam are actors, Niall is the director, and Zayn does special effects. Harry is new to the show and it's love at first sight for Louis. But he's not the only one.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo(KimmieRocks) (E) word count: 114,698 Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

The Finish Line (Is A Good Place To Start) by LoadedGunn (E) word count: 121,961 Louis Tomlinson, one-time Formula 1 World Champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season. He’s got Zayn in his garage and Liam in his ear, he’s got Cowell Racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. Not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after Oliver dropped out late last year. It hasn’t occurred to him that Oliver would have to be replaced by February. That is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating Harry Styles leaving Ferrari for Cowell. Harry hotshot Styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. Harry Styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. Harry Styles, who left Ferrari for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. Lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. Whatever. The first thing Louis does is take him under his wing. From there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is OT5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It's Been December) by green_feelings (E) word count: 128,451 After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Save Me (from myself) by Imogenlee (E) word count: 159,321 The problem with being friends with Liam Payne was that he had a lot of friends... and forced them to be around each other. When they finished high school, both Louis and Harry were equally relieved that they wouldn't have to tolerate each other constantly or whatever it was that they did. For five years, it worked out perfectly. They'd only had to see each other a handful of times. Unfortunately, Liam had to go and get engaged, ask them to both be groomsmen, and then go full groomzilla on their arses. With just twelve weeks to plan the 'perfect' destination wedding and throw every ridiculous pre-wedding celebration Liam and his fiancée stumble across, it was safe to say they were firmly back in each other's lives. And no one could have predicted that was exactly what they needed.

Belong To The Rain by unscattered_horizons (NR) word count: 172,159 “We really are that couple, aren’t we?” Harry asks when taking a breath, eyes shut while he focuses on the way Louis tastes, the smell of his cologne warm on his neck, the way his hair falls against Harry’s face and tickles at his skin. Louis kisses him again before answering. “Probably, but you’ll have to be more specific.” He moves his hands onto Harry now, holding him firm. “The kind that just got a lock and key tattoo.” Harry groans when Louis bites his neck and tugs on his hair to pull his head to the side. “We have about a dozen matching tattoos, H. That ship sailed a decade ago.” Louis makes his point by squeezing Harry’s tricep where the literal ship that matches Louis’ compass is delicately inked into his husband’s skin. “Thank fuck…” Harry trails off, Louis’ hands moving around to hold Harry’s ass and shift their bodies even closer together, one leg between Harry’s while he pulls him lower down the wall. “Louis…” Harry doesn’t get an answer so he pushes his hips into Louis to get his attention. “Lou.” “What babe? You alright?” Louis pulls back so he can look at Harry fully. He gets one of Harry’s searching stares. “I want a baby.”

Be There by mission2feelike (NR) word count: 179,339 The one where their family has been torn apart and their hearts broken, but an accident, a snowstorm, cinnamon rolls, and the adorable Josie force Louis and Harry to finally face the truth, and each other.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (E) word count: 232,268 On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right. A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Down The Line by sunflouwerhabit (G) word count: 279,926 Star shortstop Louis Tomlinson only finds solace between the white-chalk lines of a baseball diamond, until Harry Styles- the absolute bane of his existence and (probably) the worst pitcher in Major League Baseball- becomes an overnight sensation in the city Louis calls home.

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen (E) word count: 630,460 In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of. Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance. Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

[elvenbeard]

"How did you guys even meet?"

There it was again. Probably the most-asked question they had ever heard. It was true, at first glance Kerry and V didn't seem to have that much in common. None of Kerry's friends knew V's, none of V's knew Kerry's... or well, at least most of them didn't. Their lives appeared to have no overlap. V made no secret about his job, but he also never said anything concrete out loud. It drove the medias nuts, much to Kerry's amusement. Always vague, always the diplomat. Kerry loved how he managed to downright weasel them both out of uncomfortable conversations, with ease, and usually without leaving anyone offended. Kerry would have been a lot less subtle. But when this question was asked, both their faces lit up with mischief.

Kerry took off his sunglasses to look at V, who did the same, almost in sync. They resonated, still, always.

"Well, how'd we meet again, babe?" he asked, his thumb massaging V's shoulder, relishing in their comfortable closeness. V's leg on his lap, his hand on his arm... They matched, like puzzle pieces, like... he could go on with the cheesy metaphors forever probably and still not grasp how lucky he was to have found a match like him.

"I told the story last time. Your turn," V teased with a soft smile. Truth was... they'd never told anyone the truth. At least not those who asked "how'd you meet" just to keep the small-talk going, or because they hoped to sell some first-hand info to the next-best screamsheet.

Who would fucking believe the truth anyway? Kerry sure sometimes struggled with it himself. The more time passed, the more it seemed like a fever dream brought on by too much vodka and self-loathing, mourning a past long-gone.

So, they'd turned it into a game. Different story at every party, every interview, every event. Sometimes they came up with several per night. Just to see how far they could take it.

A few times they said they'd met through work, which was at least rooted in the truth. One of their most convincing ones had revolved around a particularly exciting and dangerous gig during which V saved Kerry's life and vice versa... no one caught on that the whole plot was eerily similar to one of their favourite action movies. Another time their first meeting was a chance-encounter at a secret underground sex club. Once they crashed their cars into each other and may have settled the issue by making out. They met backstage at a concert where V was with the roadies. V was his new manager, or his new bodyguard, an up-and-coming tattoo model, a braindance star, a fashion influencer famous already in the right circles and would soon have his big breakthrough. That last one annoyed the medias in particular, because it made them feel like not being in the know of all the industry's secrets anymore.

They had no shame creating the wildest tales, and it had quickly become one of Kerry's favourite pastimes at these dreadful industry-parties his manager forced them to go to. If his goal was that them showing themselves together in public more often would end all the rumours, well... it had the opposite effect. Kerry loved it.

He wanted tonight's story to be the best they'd told yet... something, that would be a challenge. V had gotten way too good at keeping a straight face at some of the most absurd details he added.

They'd promised to keep the real, full story to just themselves. With all the not so glamorous details. And yet... those were some of Kerry's favourite things about their meeting in the first place. That he hadn't even had time to tie his bathrobe shut properly, struggling to hold his gun all of a sudden because he was shaking so much. The state the villa had been in at the time, the state he had been in. V too dazed to even talk much during their first proper conversation, more mad at Johnny than anything, and more or less at Kerry's mercy. The fact that Kerry had been more interested in Johnny than the guy whose body he was using. This scrawny weird kid that was bleeding all over his sofa and played the tough guy... who then blushed and dropped his mask, just for a second, when Kerry jokingly asked if he wanted to join him in bed, just to annoy Johnny. They'd both been so fucking vulnerable from the very first moment, literally meeting during the worst possible time in each of their lives. And this vulnerability...

Had they met under any other circumstances, like in any of the grand tales they'd made up so far... would they be sitting here now, arm in arm, a little tipsy, plotting and scheming like two school boys up to no good? They'd have a good laugh later, and with the way V was all over him at this point already, they'd probably have some mind-blowing sex, too. Afterwards an unexpectedly profound conversation out of the blue? Or would they just be whispering sweet nothings at each other before they'd fall asleep side-by-side? Wake up together again tomorrow morning, warm and safe and comfortable, the cat purring somewhere... Would they be this happy, despite all their faults and imperfections, laid bare in front of the other from the first moment on?

"Guess you could say," he began slowly, still looking at V who smiled back expectantly, "A mutual friend introduced us..."

A little sprinkle of the truth, now and then. To remind himself how lucky he was that a story crazier than what they could have ever come up with was their truth, and theirs alone.

[glapplebloom]

Science Fiction... Double Feature... Doctor X... Could build a creature...

So we got two big premieres since my last One Shot: Hamster and Gretel and She-Hulk: Attorney at Law. So I began to wonder which one I should review now and which one I should review next month? But you know what? Because of the recaps at the end of the year I would have done only 11 shows. So why not do both today? Starting off with Hamster and Gretel since I saw it first…

So it starts off with Kevin driving Gretel and her hamster around because he can drive and they can’t. Then Aliens randomly showed up to empower two of them with super powers. The two: The Hamster and Gretel. Which kind of sucks because Kevin begins talking about how he’s not free because he had to do the driving and now he has to try to help his Super Powered little sister.

It is really hard to start because here is Kevin coming up with strategies and plans and it's only the Hamster that follows them. Gretel, who has the battle tactics of a wrecking ball, doesn’t really appreciate them because she has super strength and can just plow through things. Makes watching half of the first part hard because Kevin is treated as a butt monkey because he didn’t win the Alien Super Power Lottery. Also Gretel’s best friend is Bailey who is a super fan of the super hero and apparently is terrible at math.

It turns for the better when Fred (new ship formed!), their cousin (ship retracted), shows up. She is a breath of fresh air with her sarcastic ways to help Kevin feel better about this situation. And thanks to her, he got a date with a girl he’s crushing on tonight. Heck, even when a super villain was attacking the city with an army, Gretel is the one that said she can take care of it and he can go on his date. That makes me feel a lot better as he doesn’t have to be responsible for her 24/7…

But he’s still a good brother so when she got captured he figured out a way to free her. Go to the concert everyone was watching and have them just turn on everything so the city can have a black out. It works and he still has a good graces with his crush. Happy ending! Except two jerks also winning the Alien super power lottery at the end. There’s also a little second episode where Gretel learns about Great Power having Great Responsibility but nope she got powers so she can rebuild her favorite tree.

I think the thing with Dan Povenmire’s stuff is that it takes a while to get me into it. Phineas and Ferb, the Busted Song. Milo Murphy’s Law, the football episode. So I see the same thing happening here. I just need to find the one song or episode to get me into it. Probably when they have a Fred focused episode. But a big plus for this show to actually have a music number in the first episode. Now onto She-Hulk.

The episode begins with Jennifer Walters preparing for a case. And like the comics, she breaks the fourth wall! She does this so she can tell us her origin story. So she was driving with her cousin Bruce around when a spaceship came out of nowhere. When the car crashed, she cut herself and got some of Bruce’s blood in her. Then she’s somewhere else, with a bunch of ladies helping her out because they thought something bad happened. I’m not 100% sure this is realistic but it is nice to see people help people when needed.

When guys were catcalling her, she turns to a Hulk and almost attacks until our Hulk comes in to stop her. Bruce takes Jennifer to Mexico to help her learn to control her transformation. But to his surprise she’s even better than him with it. It is likely because her DNA matches a lot better than Bruce’s and the fact she has controlled her anger her entire life. So I want to talk about this line: “So I'm an expert at controlling my anger because I do it infinitely more than you.”

Apparently a lot of people are upset about this line. From “this is woman-splaning” to a more acceptable “this is insulting to everything Bruce has been through”. But at the same time, she is right. We’ve seen in this episode about guys thinking they’re better than her belittling her and she only snaps once. Meanwhile, we did have an entire movie (that I didn’t see) about Bruce unable to control his anger and two Avenger movies (that I did see) where his anger wasn’t in control. 

And back to the comics, other Hulks arrived who have a better control over it than Bruce does. Jennifer controls her Hulk self so much better than her cousin. She has numerous series where she is a Hulk yet is Jennifer in control. Even when she pretended to be a Savage Hulk, she just pretended. There are two Red Hulks who have a much better control than Bruce. Even Betty and Amadeus had better control. So this is nothing new.

After a spat with her cousin, Jennifer was given the okay to go back where she hasn’t hulked out in months. Until Titania shows up to cause a ruckus. She turns to She-Hulk and beats her. Overall, I found this a lot of fun. As a fan of the 4th Wall Breaking She-Hulk, I think this does a fine job bringing her to the MCU. And it also answers the age old question plaguing the MCU… Steve Rogers does not have his V card.

[webdollzz]

BATTERED 'N' BRUISED

WARNINGS: blood kink!! dom!hobie x f!reader. mirror sex, penetrative sex, accidental creampie, fingering, hair pulling, forced eye contact, manhandling, swears (obviously), semi public sex, darcyphila, multiple orgasms. r described as easily bruised

AUTHORS NOTE: those warnings...this also came to me in a dream. unhinged dream.

Hobie had taken you to your first punk rock concert with him, as it was his turn to plan a date, and this was his idea of a date. you didn't complain, though. it made him happy. you tried to match the vibe as best as you could, putting on messily good black makeup, short denim skirt, torn fishnets, big clompy boots — the works.

you tried your best to fit in with the crowd, and you certainly did in hobie's eyes. he had you pressed against the barricade with him behind you, protecting you from the hits and shoves from the crowd, his back and sides taking them instead so you could enjoy the concert with him. you looked over to your left as you heard particularly louder screaming, seeing a mosh pit beginning to form. you lean back against hobie's chest, tugging him down by one of his necklaces so his ear was level to your mouth. it was the only way he'd hear you between the loud singing and music.

"the fuck is that?!" you asked, gesturing to the violent circle within the crowd. he glanced over, smirking as he leaned down into your ear.

"mosh pi', luv. basically everybody hittin' everybody." he shrugged, his hands running up and down your sides, looking at the way you stared at it. "wha'? you wanna go in?" you nod, and he snorts. "a'ight — c'mere." he said, gripping your waist with a grin, pulling you through the crowd. he knew he probably shouldn't get you in a mosh pit when it's your first concert, and because you already bruise like a peach. but how could he deny his girl? he couldn't.

so he hauled you with him, talking loudly in your ear. "so, rule one. someone falls, ya' help 'em up. two, palms, not actual fists. no throwin' punches —" He continued to walk you through the unspoken rules of proper mosh etiquette, and you tried to listen, but it was hard. but he said this one a little louder, the most important one, as he put it.

"numba' six – don't move a single inch from me. wors' place ta' lose ya' would be a mosh." he said, gently kissing your lips before yanking you into the pit with him. one, two — three songs later, the pit finally dissipated. and what happened half way through song two? you got lost in the pit. the concert was still going, so he couldn't exactly call for you. it was only half way done, so he couldn't call for you for a while. he was worried sick – there was easily over a thousand people at this venue. easy. he wouldn't find you in the floods of people, he'd just have to wait until you both met back up at your car outside.

his train of thought was interrupted by much older rocker – 40s – tapping on his shoulder. "this yours?" He yelled over the music with a laugh, presenting a very bloody you. you were grinning like a mad woman, your nose profusely bleeding and dripping down your mouth, chin, neck, chest — pretty much your entire front was covered. and you didn't give a single fuck. his brows furrowed with concern, a pit forming in his stomach.

"fuckin' 'ell – yeah! thanks, mate." the guy wandered off with a grin and a nod, giving him a small thumbs up.

"doll, are you alr–" "that was the best fucking thing ever!" you interrupted him with a yell, and he got more confused. you enjoyed it? your nose was pouring with blood! admittedly, seeing your torn, low cut shirt and blood covered cleavage stirred something in him, but he pushed it aside.

"wha'?!" he had to make sure he heard that right. you briefly spat out some blood by your feet, smiling back up at him. "I had fun!" you exclaimed, your nose still dripping. it must've been a pretty brutal hit. "so, you're a'ight?.." he asked cautiously, gently poking your nose to make sure it wasn't broken or anything, the bleeding was really bad. "yeah! I'm fine!" he grabbed your inner elbow gently, dragging you towards the bathrooms at the back. once he made sure you were okay, his skinny jeans began to get a whole lot tighter. you frowned, stumbling along with him.

"why are we leavin'?" you asked as he pulled you into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you two. he shrugged, pinning you between him and the sink.

"cus' m'hard as fuck righ' now." your eyes widened as his head dipped down to nip and kiss at the sides of your neck that isn't covered in blood. so, he got turned on by blood now? that's new.

"hob.." you gasped as he sucked a hickey onto the side of your neck, his hand sliding up your inner thigh to rub it gently, before his forefinger went to draw lazy circles on your clit through your panties.

"hmm?" he hummed quietly, kicking your legs apart so he can stand between them easier. your breath hitches quietly, your hips pushing down against his finger for more.

"more...please." he grabbed your fishnets and tore them at your pussy with ease, making you jolt slightly. you opened your mouth to complain about it but it dribbled back down your throat when he pushed your panties to the side to rub at your clit again, just with no barriers. you huffed out a moan, your head tipping back. he slid his finger to your entrance, teasing it for a short moment before he slipped it into you, curling it to your sweet spot. you moaned, unaware of how much he was staring a your blood covered neck until his head dipped forward.

his tongue licked up the length of your neck, to your chin and mouth. he gripped your hair with his free hand, tugging your head back up to face him.

you whimpered softly, but your eyes widened when you saw him smiling at you with his mouth covered in your blood.

"hob, what'r you do-" you were cut short when his lips smashed against yours, pulling your hair roughly as his fingers sped up. the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue as he kissed you with a lip bruising fervour, disgustingly brought you closer to the edge. and fast.

it smeared your blood all over your lips, the now occasional drip of blood from your nose making it messy. you were whimpering into the kiss, rolling your hips against his hand as he added another finger. the iron taste of your blood in your mouth, his thumb pressing against your throbbing clit and the two fingers curling into your sweet spot had you crying out.

he left the kiss, trailing from your cheek cheek your jaw, to your neck where he stayed. he kissed where the blood was — some dried, some not. he didn't care, it was all fucking with his head. your hand gripped his bicep as your let out a moan that was higher in pitch than the band. he stopped kissing your neck, and you could feel the way he smirked against your stained skin at the volume of your moans.

"gooood girl.. " he praised lowly in your ear, the sound of his rough voice making you whimper. his fingers didn't stop, working you through and past your orgasm, overstimulation painfully sweet. you tried to grab his wrist, but he swatted you away and shook his head as he began kissing your neck again.

"nah, chill out. we ain' done, love." he hissed, and you choked back cries as you pushed at his arm. "ple-please.." you whispered, and he sighed quietly, understanding your limit. he removed his fingers slowly and you sunk into him gratefully, silently thanking him. he slowly began wrapping an arm around your waist, and you assumed it was to support you, but what actually happened was he flipped you round to face the mirror, your hip bone pressing into the clean cut curve of the countertop.

you yelped as his hand went into your hair, gently wrapping it around his hand and craning your head back. the look in his eyes showed something you've barely seen a glimpse of — he rarely got rough with you. he leaned into your ear, hand still in your hair and the other on the middle of your back to force an arch.

"you a'ight?" He asked you quietly, nudging the side of your head with his nose as his low eyes stayed on yours through the reflection. you nodded best you could, making him tug your hair.

"words." "yes, m'okay." you whispered, and he nodded softly, his hand on your back rubbing small circles for comfort. his nose nudged your cheek before he kissed your temple softly.

"good, we ain' done." he mumbled, kicking your legs apart and pushing your back down so your tummy touched the cold, marble sink top. he grabbed your panties and the hem of your fishnets and practically ripped them off your body. you always underestimated his strength.

"those were my nice pair.." You mumbled softly with a frown, as if that was the biggest thing right now. he rolled his eyes, undoing his belt with one hand as the other stayed firmly in your hair.

"ll'steal ya another. now shut i'." he kissed your shoulder, still peering at you. his belt clattered against the floor, and he unbuttoned his jeans to shimmy them down just enough to pull out his dick.

"deep breath, c'mon." he shook your head a little with his hand in your hair, and you took in a little breath before he pushed in, making you splutter out that breath with a whimper. you never adjusted to the size and girth of him, it's like he was made to hurt you.

"should'a done a deep breath." he shrugged, burying himself to the hilt as you gripped the sink. his hand left your hair to slip to your hip, lifting you towards him a little, which makes you now uncomfortaby on your tippy toes. he began a slow pace, which made you take a deep breath — finally — and dip your head forward. he huffed softly, looking down at where you connect, seeing how quickly you covered his cock in your slick, making it easy for him to speed up.

your jaw fell slack, your arms sliding up the sink to try and stabilise yourself as you moaned with each thrust. he smiled to himself, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing harshly, making you huff at him.

"perv." you mumbled, and he just laughed at you, purposefully tilting his hips to adjust his thrusts towards your sweet spot, making you cry out as your eyes closed. his arm went over your stomach and up to your shoulders, forcing you to his chest.

"look." he whispered gruffly against your hair, his eyes glued onto your face. you fluttered your eyes open, seeing him staring at you and you mewled, the eye contact making you feel nervous and try to hide your face in his neck — as if he isn't 7inches deep right now. his hand grabbed where your jaw meets your neck, snapping it back to the mirror.

"fuckin' look. y'r a mess." He laughed, his other hand going from your hip to your clit, drawing quick figure eights which quickly made tears meet your waterline before they ran down your cheeks.

"n-no, I'm not." you tried to defend yourself, but your eyes went from him to your own form. jaw slack, eyes having difficulty staying open, legs shaking. you were a mess. he just hummed quietly, looking back down at where he is pounding into you, seeing the way you stretch to accommodate him and yet still struggle.

you cried out, clawing at his arm that was holding your jaw to the mirror, tears rolling down your cheeks. his fingers sped up on your clit to match the pace of his brutal thrusts, making your eyes roll back with a loud whine.

he looked back up at you, and his breath hitched. black make up smudged and smeared, running down your face from your waterworks, jaw slack, eyes rolled back and the remaining of the blood stuck to your skin.

he couldn't help it, he knew better. but that didn't stop him from filling you to the brim, the sight of you destroyed and a mess making him milk himself dry. you gasped at the feeling of him cumming inside you, the warmth triggering your own orgasm as you cried loudly.

he groaned breathily, slowing his thrusts. he pulled his hand from you, instead wrapping them both around your waist to keep you steady as he gently lowered you to the flats of your feet.

"did you actually just —" you breathed, staring at him in the mirror. he just shrugged, smiling like a cocky bastard at you.

"rule breaker, innit."

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[sluttywonwoo]

SVT's reaction to you surprising them in lingerie👀

seungcheol: he’s pissed when you drag him out shopping with you, not in a toxic masculinity way more in a lazy way, but immediately perks up when you pull up to the new lingerie boutique. you tell him that he can pick out three sets of the ones you try on to take home (all on his credit card, of course) and he’d have such a hard time choosing just three that he’d probably buy one or two more than you agreed upon. you’d probably end up blowing him in the store dressing room as a thank you too.

jeonghan: he’d know you’re up to something when you’re ready for your date earlier than he is. but you’d play it off and try to act as unassuming as possible throughout the night until you’re in the car on the way home and let your dress ride up the tiniest bit to reveal the garters around your thighs. he’d almost swerve off the road, but thankfully regain his composure in time to safely pull over into an empty parking lot so that he could… fully appreciate your lingerie.

joshua: you’d ask him for help unzipping your dress and he’d be confused, because you put the dress on without any help, but he’d agree. except when he moves your hair out of the way and pulls the zipper down, he’s greeted by black lace instead of bare skin. he’d freeze, eyes wide as he takes it in, but then you’re shrugging the dress off completely and letting it fall to the floor and he nearly tackles you, pressing his lips to yours as he backs you both into a wall.

jun: i can totally picture the two of you at some important event, mingling and chatting politely with other guests when you bend down in front of him, showing him the straps of your garter belt. your little stunt would obviously have the desired effect and jun would spend the rest of the evening flustered and distracted, having to concentrate on the conversations he was having and not getting hard at the same time.

soonyoung: he comes home from work and you’re just. laying on the bed. in a tight red bodysuit. it’s not halloween yet, but the threads are pulled together to look like spiderwebs going across your chest (in honor of his single). he’d be so torn between ripping the fabric off of you and fucking you immediately, or not touching you at all- and just enjoying the view. eventually though his dick would win over his brain and he’d simply push the lingerie aside so he could slip inside you that way, and be able to get the best of both worlds.

wonwoo: you’re sitting on his lap backstage at one of his shows, in the dressing rooms with the other members when the sleeve of your shirt falls to the side and reveals the bra strap of your new matching set. you’d been planning to surprise wonwoo after his performance, but he noticed before you could pull your sleeve back up and would immediately start to get hard despite his best efforts not to. he’d be pissed too, thinking you did it on purpose to tease him or to let the other boys see and when i say you’d be in for it after the concert, you’d be in for it.

jihoon: he’s not very patient, so he’d be taking it off of you before he even saw all of it, promising to let you give him a fashion show later after he fucks the life out of you. except when “later” comes around and you try and show him your new lingerie again the same thing happens and it starts a vicious cycle until you end up sending him pictures of you in it from the other room.

seokmin: oh my god he’d be on his knees as soon as you took your clothes off, mumbling about how pretty you looked against the fabric of your stockings. you’d smile down at him and run a hand through his hair, sending a shiver down his spine. your composure would waver when he pressed a kiss to your cunt over your panties and it’d take all your strength to push his head back and make him ask you like a good boy.

mingyu: i see him taking a minute to process and then pulling his camera out to document just how gorgeous you look. he’d start off by taking shots from far away, inching closer and closer as he was pulled to you like a magnet. eventually he’d be taking pictures of you still in the lingerie while he’s inside of you, focusing the lens on your face twisted in pleasure.

minghao: he’s always got some smart quip to say, but he’d have nothing when he saw you in nothing but a sheer babydoll in his favorite color. instead he’d be speechless, for once, and only be able to show you how he felt by taking your hands and pressing them to his crotch. you’d giggle at his reaction which would flip some switch in him and he’d suddenly get his confidence back, asking you what was so funny. you’d try and backtrack, but it would be too late because minghao would already be leading you to the bed with a cocky smirk on his face.

seungkwan: he’d be unable to take his eyes off of you. you said you were going to change into something more comfortable and he assumed pajamas… not an unlined bodysuit with cutouts. you’d smile and he’d melt, instantly getting up from where he’d been sitting to pull you onto his lap and ask what he’d done to deserve this.

vernon: he’d get home from recording and find you cooking in nothing but a thong and thigh-high socks. he’d be all ??? but you’d act like nothing was different and continue cooking whatever it was you were working on. you’d ask vernon to help you out, maybe lifting you to reach something that was too high for you or showing him how to chop some vegetables- something that involved your bodies being brushing against each other. and you’d keep teasing him like that until he snapped and fucked you on the counter like his life depended on it

chan: he would be so confused to walk in on you in a new lingerie set, trying to rack his brain for important dates that he might’ve forgotten. birthday? anniversary? you’d take notice of his confusion and ask him what was wrong, did he not like what he saw? he’d assure you that he very much did like what he saw, he was just confused as to why you were all dressed up and you’d explain that you just wanted to surprise him, sinking down to your knees and unzipping his jeans as if to prove it to him.

[storiesforallfandoms]

talent that runs in the family ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2128

request?: yes!

“Being rooks sister and substitute him while he recovers and slowly start to fall in love with colson”

description: she steps in to replace her brother when he is seriously injured and ends up gaining feelings for his friend

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Thanks so much for doing this (Y/N),” Rook said over the phone. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “But does Colson know that I’m...y’know...not a seasoned vet?”

“You’ll do fine.”

I refrained from reminding him that he didn’t actually answer my question.

After Rook’s accident left him out of commission for some time, he came to me to ask if I’d fill in for him. I jumped at the opportunity. Rook had taught me how to drum when I was young and, much like my big brother, it became a passion of mine. How could I turn down working with one of the biggest artists of the year, even if it were just for a short while?

Well, my nerves were definitely telling me I should’ve said no as I walked into soundcheck that day.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll call you after the soundcheck.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do great.”

I said my goodbyes and hung up. I tried not to focus on how big the venue we were playing in was as I made my way to the otherwise empty stage. I thought I was the first person to arrive until I heard someone calling my name.

“(Y/N), up here!”

I looked up to see the guys sat in a booth in the balcony. Colson was all but leaning over the railing, waving for me to join them. I had no idea how to get up there on my own, but luckily a security guard showed me the way.

The guys were eating pizza and drinking from plastic cups as if they were the ones attending the concert and not performing in it.

“Pre-show ritual,” Colson told me. “Especially when we have someone new joining the band. Sit! Have a slice!”

“Shouldn’t we be practicing?” I asked, but still sat with them. I didn’t want to completely mess up my first day.

“We have hours to practice,” one of the other guys I remembered as Slim said. “And we don’t really need to. We do this every night. A soundcheck is basically just to make sure everything is working tech wise.”

I just nodded, not wanting to point out that I hadn’t been doing this every night. I hoped that I’d have some time to figure out the songs before the shows.

Colson nudged me, bringing my attention to him. “Don’t stress. You’ll do great.”

I smiled at him, wishing I’d believe him.

After our small feast of pizza and beer in plastic glasses, we finally got to our soundcheck. I was so nervous that I kept messing up during the first song. My hands were shaking and I kept hitting the wrong drum by accident. My face was burning with embarrassment as I buried it in my hands and groaned.

Colson walked up to me, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I can get this, I know I can.”

“I know you can, too,” he said. “Just take a breath, relax. We’ll try again when you’re ready. And remember, it’s just drumming. Rook says you’re great at it.”

I smiled at him and nodded. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured myself back in my bedroom from my childhood, playing my drums super loud until my parents had to call out for me to keep it down.

When we started practicing again, it went off without a hitch. We did most of the setlist all the way through and did quick takes on the last few songs before our time was up.

I was proud of myself as the soundcheck came to an end. I was still nervous about performing during the actual show, but I felt confident enough in myself not to make too many noticeable mistakes when we actually had an audience that night.

I was walking to my car when I heard someone calling for me. I turned to see Colson running to catch up with me. Or rather he was taking long strides to catch up with me considering he was so tall.

“I told you you would do great!” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “It’s like drumming runs in your blood or something.”

I chuckled. “That’s what mom and dad always said too, but neither one of them can keep a beat to save their lives and no one else in our immediate family plays either.”

“You and Rook are the start of a long line of drummers then I guess.”

I shrugged in response. We both stood awkwardly for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. His arm was still around my shoulder and I didn’t want to pull away and make it seem like I didn’t enjoy the contact because I definitely was not complaining about it.

I guess Colson also realized that he was still touching me, though, because he pulled his arm away and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you need a run to the hotel or anything?” he asked. “We have the tour bus.”

I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks. I have my car, and besides I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet so I should probably go do that.”

“Oh, yeah you definitely should. Get some rest before the show, too. It’s a lot more physically demanding when it’s an actual show, even if you’re just sitting at a drum set the entire time. I’ll see you tonight then I guess.” He turned to walk away, but paused and turned back to add, “What were you planning on wearing tonight?”

I looked at him, confused. “Uh...this I guess.”

I was wearing a hoodie and a pair baggy jeans and my most comfortable pair of sneakers.

Colson raised an eyebrow at my outfit before looking back up at me. “I mean, it’s definitely comfy, but I would recommend something a little less...well, just less. It’s going to be hot as fuck on that stage, especially with all the lights on you and shit.”

I nodded, taking note of this as I got into my car and internally panicked a little because I didn’t know if I even had anything to wear.

~~~~~~

A few hours later, after checking into my hotel room and promptly wrecking it by throwing my clothes everywhere, I was heading back down to the lobby to meet up with the guys. We were going to the show together, which would’ve been my first tour bus ride. I couldn’t lie, I was super stoked for it.

I was the last one to the lobby. All the guys were stood around, loudly talking to one another. You’d think they were just a normal group of guys and not a group about to play a sold out show in a massive arena.

Colson spotted me first. I smiled at waved at him. His eyes widened and his jaw basically dropped, which prompted all the guys to turn. Their reactions immediately matched his as they looked me up and down.

“Rook would kill you guys if he could see you right now,” I teased.

“Damn (Y/N),” Colson dared to say first. “You look...you look hot as fuck.”

I had decided on a loose muscle shirt with a bralette underneath since the shirt showed a little more than what I was used to, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and kept on the comfortable sneakers I had been wearing earlier that day.

I giggled. “Thanks, but again, Rook would kill you for saying that. Also, it’s not anything super attractive.”

“You got a nice body,” Baze pointed out. “Anything showing it off even a little is hot.”

I could feel my face burning as I waved their comments away. “Okay, enough with this. We have a show to get to.”

We boarded the tour bus and started towards the arena. The guys were distracted amongst one another again, completely forgetting about me and my “hot outfit”. Besides Colson, who had come to sit next to me on the couch while the rest of the guys were already drinking whatever was in the mini fridge.

“Do you guys always get drunk before your shows?” I asked.

“Not always. Usually we get high,” Colson responded.

“Now that I can get behind. I’ll probably be less afraid if I’m high.”

Colson held out the joint in his hand to me. I took it and took a quick puff, the smoke immediately burning my throat and lungs as I tried to inhale it. Colson laughed as I started to cough.

“I still say you have nothing to worry about,” he told me. “You’re gonna do great tonight. You can’t even really see or hear the audience with all the lights and the inner ear pieces.”

“That’s even worse cause then I’ll just imagine how big the audience is.”

He put a hand on my leg, something I assume was just instinct for him to do to comfort someone, but the minute he made the contact I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. Colson quickly pulled his hand away and I wondered if he had felt that too.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking,” he said.

“You can if you want,” I assured him. “I wasn’t mad about it or anything.”

Colson looked at me and I realized how blue his eyes were. Rook had always made jokes about how Colson could seduce any woman with just his eyes because they were such baby blues, but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I was looking in them myself. Now I was lost, completely forgetting everyone around me as I felt myself moving closer towards him.

The bus jerked to a stop, causing Colson and I to nearly be thrown from our seats. The guys started off the bus first, running towards the entrance to the arena as I could hear the waiting fans screaming outside.

Colson stood and offered a hand to me. “It’s showtime.”

~~~~~~

After the first song went perfectly, I stopped feeling nervous. Colson was right, I couldn’t see the audience in front of me, but I could faintly hear their screams of excitement over my inner ear piece. It was weird to have it in and not only hear all of us playing, but also the crew talking backstage. It was almost distracting, but it became easy to tune them out.

During one of Colson’s talking points in the show, I reached for my water bottle to take a sip. Colson was hyping the audience up, which made me smile a little.

“Before we continue the show,” he said into his mic, “you guys may have noticed that we do not have our regular drummer tonight.”

I immediately knew what he was about to do and I wanted to hurtle my drumstick at him before he went there.

“As you’ve probably heard, Rook was in a bit of an accident and is off recovering for the time being,” he continued. “So, we decided to get some family to fill in for him for the time being. Everyone, I want to hear y’all make some noise for Rook’s little sister, (Y/N)!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Colson turned to me and waved for me to stand. I glared at him, which I hoped he could see, before standing and awkwardly smiling and waving at the audience.

“All the cool drum shit you guys have been hearing all night has been (Y/N),” Colson said as he started to approach me. “She’s a bad ass fucking drummer, and she’s a pretty fucking cool chick, too.”

I was confused where he was going with this as he came to stand next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder the way he had earlier that day after soundcheck.

“Which is why, (Y/N), I gotta ask: will you go on a date with me sometime?”

Slight embarrassment was swelling somewhere inside of me at being asked out in such a public way, but that embarrassment was overshadowed by the fuzzy feeling of excitement inside of me. I looked up at Colson, my eyes wide and a smile on my lips.

 He lowered the mic so he could privately add, “I’m being serious. I wanna take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

My words were stuck in my throat, but I was able to nod in response. The smile on Colson’s face stretched so wide that I could’ve been convinced he was the one lighting the show.

“Okay,” he said, then lifted the mic to say to his audience, “Let’s get back to the show guys!”

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Reunion

Day 5--I had completely forgotten that I had written this lol. It’s more fluff as usual. Can’t wait to read everyone else’s later on!

Enjoy! :)

1.8k words

Rowan couldn't wait to get home. Today had been...exhausting, to say the least. He was a personal trainer, and with that came the territory that people would talk about their issues while working out. Which was fine, Rowan understood that letting out emotional issues when working out helped people to stay motivated. He himself had been known to rant about his issues when working out himself.

But today had been a lot. One of his regulars had put on weight over the Yulemas holidays and was beating himself up over it. Another regulars marriage was over and was dealing with that guilt.  Someone had lost a favourite aunt. Another one had to break off an engagement because it was a loveless relationship. And on and on the issues piled up.

Rowan was good at compartmentalizing, but after a while, he ignored his lunch break in order to go to the park to just...not think for a while.

Being at the park cheered him up a little, but his break was soon too over. And he was back to work, and that was when the skies decided to open up and pour down buckets of rain. Making a bad day into a shittier one.

His wipers were on the fastest setting and he was driving at a snails pace when he looked away for one second, one fucking second, when he heard a thump and a feminine voice yell out “what the fuck!”

Slamming on the brakes, Rowan came to a speedy conclusion.

He was at a pedestrian crossing and he just hit someone with his car.

He just hit someone with his car.

“Fucking hell!”

Pulling up the handbrake, Rowan got out, not sure what to say or do when he came across a golden haired woman, her eyes spitting out blue and gold fire.

Rowan blinked at her, because despite being covered in rain and sitting on her behind, hand rubbing at her hip, she looked familiar.

But now wasn't the time to thinking about that. He had to see if she was okay. “I'm so sorry,” he got out, “I have no idea what happened. I looked away for a second, that was all. I'm so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”

“My hip and my ass hurt, and I suspect that I'm going to have a wicked bruise, but I think I'm okay,” the stranger said. “You should really watch what you're doing, though.”

“I know. I'm sorry, again.”

The stranger sighed, and even that sounded familiar. “What a fucking day I'm having,” she mumbled.

“Bad day?” He probably made it worse, too. He should also really get her into his car, but she starting ranting before he could do anything about it.

“The fucking worst. I'm facing a deadline that I can't finish, because I'm having dreadful writers block. My landlord is a fucking creep who came to my place today saying that my underwear 'accidentally' got mixed in with his laundry. My cousin's dad recently came back into his life, so now he's angry all the damned time and it's leeching into me. And you just hit me with your car.”

Rowan nodded in understanding, but only could manage to say, “Yeah, your day definitely sucks.”

She glared at him, silently telling him that that wasn't really the best way to respond, but he was having a bad day, also.

Which wasn't an excuse he knew, but Gods, it wasn't really his day either.

Rowan helped her up, her hands warm despite the cold and took her to his passenger seat and pulled over to the side. He couldn't help but notice that she smelled like jasmine and lemon verbena. A calming scent.

“I'm not sure what the protocol is,” he admitted after handing her a hand towel from the glove box. “Do we call the police? Or my insurance? I should take you to the hospital, I know that much.” Even if all she said was that she hurt her behind and hip, it'd be best to ensure that she didn't fracture anything.

When she said nothing after a moment, Rowan turned, noting that the silence from the woman was a little concerning, scared to death that maybe she hit her head and was going into shock.

Her blue-gold eyes were wide. “Are you okay?” he asked again. He really should get her to the hospital.

“Are you...? This is...you couldn't be. Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn?”

Rowan blinked, his concern turning inward. “Yes, that's my name. How did you—?”

“I, uh, it's me. Aelin Ashryver Gala—”

“Galathynius?” He finished for her. She nodded.

They sat in silence as Rowan stared at her, taking in her blue-gold eyes, golden hair, the lemon verbena and jasmine smell of her. Recalling the familiar sigh. All of it.

Rowan wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel when all of it came crashing down on him. He had just hit his high school crush with his car.

Rowan, for whatever reason that he couldn't name, wanted to laugh. He never would have suspected that he would hit Aelin Galathynius with his car ten years after high school graduation.

He was fairly certain that high school him had been in love with her from the moment he saw her. Rowan had wanted to ask her out at least a dozen times, but he was an awkward seventeen year old that didn't know how to talk to women that weren't family members and never gained the courage to do so.

It was one of his biggest regrets from his teenage years.

The last time he had seen her was at the after party of their graduating day. She wore a daisy flower crown and was sparkling in a golden dress. He had never seen someone as beautiful as her—even to this day.

Unbeknownst to Rowan, Aelin had felt the same way. She was confident back then as she was now, but every time she wanted to go up to Rowan to talk to him, to get to know him, the butterflies in her stomach threatened to strangle her.

So she never did ask him out. And here she was now, ten years later, in his car. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

She was still pissed as hell though that he hit her with his car.

It had only taken a moment, a single moment, for her to realise who it was she was sitting next to. The moment that the hand towel touched her face and she breathed in the pine and snow scent of it, she was transported back to the past.

“How have you been?” Rowan asked her after long minutes. His green eyes still as pretty as the day Aelin saw them. She was sure that was what she loved about him the most all those years ago. Other than Lysandra's, Aelin had never seen such a stunning green.

Aelin snorted, her fond memories disappearing at the inane question. “You were listening when I was ranting, weren't you? My day has been shit.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, and her heart skipped a beat. He still smiled the same. She had liked that about him, too. Still did, apparently.

“No, I mean how's life been since graduation? You mentioned writers block. Are you a writer then?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I write fantasy-adventure-romance novels under the name of Celaena Sardothien.” She had liked the animosity of it all, with none of her books containing a single photograph of her.

“That's amaz—wait. You mean to tell me that you're the writer of the 'Fireheart' series?”

Aelin smiled proudly. “That's me. Have you read them?”

“I have. It's one of my favourite series.” They were his guilty pleasure, really, but it felt rude to say that out loud, as if it was shameful.

Aelin blinked, taken aback at the confession. “Really? You mean to tell me that brooding Rowan Whitethorn reads romance novels?”

Rowan frowned a little bit at that. “I don't brood. Not anymore.”

“You're brooding right now.”

Rowan grumbled. Okay, maybe he was, just a little bit, however.

“How about you, though?” Aelin asked. “How's life been?”

“Busy. And right now, it's a bit shitty. I'm sorry for hitting you with my car, truly. We should get you to a hospital, though. Just to make sure that you're okay, please,” he added, when he saw that she opened her mouth to likely protest. “I won't be able to sleep if it turns out you need a hip replacement or something and I didn't take you to get checked out.”

Aelin truly doubted she would need a hip replacement, but nodded anyway. “Okay, you can take me to the hospital. And then afterwards, I'll give you my number and you can take me out to dinner.”

Rowan blinked at that and then smiled. He had always like confidence in a person. “Okay, it's a date.”

“I've never had a date after a hospital visit.”

“Well, then, I better make it great.”

Aelin smiled, warmth filling her. The day turning out a little nicely, despite it all. “You better.”

x x x x x

As Rowan lead Aelin to the dance floor, he couldn't believe his luck. Never in a thousand years did he think that accidentally hitting Aelin with his car would lead to this.

To their first dance as husband and wife.

It had been exactly one year to the day when he saw her again after ten years. It was very much an Aelin thing to want to have their wedding anniversary to match the date.

The story had been re-told by a slightly tipsy Fenrys as part of his best man speech, about how Rowan would be the only man in the world to meet his future wife by way of a car accident. The story always made people laugh, with people saying that the universe must have wanted to get them together and was sick of them taking too long.

Because as it turned out, when Rowan and Aelin's relationship grew and they learned more about their ten years of life, they were always somehow minutes away from running into each other. From when Rowan was starting his hike in the Southern Continent, Aelin had just finished hers and was going back to her hotel—the very fact that they were staying at the same hotel, but floors apart.

When Rowan had missed out on book tickets to a signing of her third novel in the Fireheart series, and he had to turn around and leave the bookstore since it was a private function just as Aelin was moments away from going on.

From going to the same concerts, to the same festivals, from seemingly everything that they had in common, they had missed each other by minutes.

They silently thanked the universe, even if the way they ran into each other was less than ideal. But they wouldn't change it for the world.

Rowan kissed his wife and thanked his lucky stars.

[kanmom51]

hi, genuinely curious, why do you think you know so much about bts’s personal lives? like just shipping real people in general that you don’t now personally, bc i saw some of ur posts(not just u, a LOT of others seem to think the same) and i’m confused like how do you know all that from a video/photo?

Ask 2:  hi i think i might have sounded rude in my last anon and im so so sorry if i did, i don’t mean to sound mean but english isn’t my first language and i don’t now how else to write it.

What i mean is i just can’t see it, but so many ppl including you seem convinced jimin and jungkook are a couple? i now there’s probably something i’m missing that’s obvious to everyone else bc to me they just seem like really good and close friends, so like what is it that you think makes it obvious?? (again i’m just genuinely curious abt this pls don’t take it the wrong way 💜)

I’m not clairvoyant and don’t claim to know what goes on behind closed doors.  I have said time and time again that we have no way of knowing what goes on when the cameras are off or when they are in private, unless they tell us.

I do speculate sometimes and make assumptions based on the content I’ve seen, but always original content, and not edited clips.  

I have also made it clear every single time that these are my opinions and conclusions, take them or leave them.

There is a ton of BTS content out there to go through, which includes, just as an example (because there is so much more):  Run BTS episodes, interviews (video, written and radio), member Tweets, memories, Bon Voyage, packages (summer, winter), Bangtan bombs, fan meets, Musters, concerts etc.

You need to watch original content, because, and it saddens me to say this, there is some Jikook YT content that is distorted, edited, slow motioned to fit the story, and not all of it is ‘real’ in the sense, that if you see the original content, see the true moment within it’s context and in real speed, well, it isn’t a ‘real’ moment.  I have called out some of those moments in the past.

But there are things you can’t fake.  

There a several moments that solidified for me the special connection between JK & JM.  

Watch original content over the years and you will see there is something special between those two, a special and strong connection.  JK clearly finds JM as someone he can confide in and someone that can calm him or console him in times of need.  He has said it in interviews and we have seen him do so in the content out there.

JM is JK’s anchor.  His safe place.

JK is JM’s happy place.  When JM is down JK is the one who knows how to cheer him up.  Even Jin had mentioned it once in an interview.

JK is JM’s protector in sorts.  We’ve seen them at the airports, we’ve seen him carry JM after concerts.

They are super close.  We know they constantly choose to travel together in the same car (when every member has their own car and they are the only ones together)...  They choose spend ‘off time’ together - bowling, going to watch a movie, ice skating with each other.  JK himself told us in BV4 that the only members he sae during their time off were JM & Hobi.  They are just super close.

So what made me make the one step further and conclude they are romantically involved?

There are several things that pushed me over the edge.  Some of them are:

First, the content, again.  There is content out there that is way beyond “we are very close platonic friends”.  Things they say or do in front of the camera that give you so much “we are a couple” vibe. 

There is content that makes you feel like you are intruding on a very intimate private moment: 

MAMA 2018 is one of them.  I can’t say one, because there are so many moments there that are “WOW, what’s going on here?”

Rose Bowl is also such a moment that is as clear as day, with no acceptable logical explanation other than: “there is something more between those two”.  

Those are only 2 examples, but there are many more such moments, where the intimacy level is way more than even the best platonic friendship out there.

You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to put 1 & 1 together here.  These moments are loud and clear.

There are the more subtle moments too, those that add up on you, those that if you will look at each of them by themselves you would say: “yeah, nothing here”, but when you put them together, another one and another one and another one, well the conclusion is pretty much clear.

It’s JM’s Tweets, their matching clothing over the years, their choice to spend time together, their private trip, GCFT, JK’s choice to put JM front and center in all his other GCF’s, the way they look at each other, the way they talk about each other, the two very famous lives from 2016 (Tae’s & Hobi’s), their own lives (OMG), things JM tells us (like waking up and seeing JK is what makes him happy these days), “you are me I am you”,  the way they touch, especially during the first few years (2016-2018), those hesitant light touches & brushes (if skinship is not an issue here, why do they hesitate so much to touch each other??? when they have no problem doing so with the others, all when we do know just how close they are), the way they talk to each other, they way JK lets JM get away with shit, while he doesn’t the other members, the way JK drops honorifics with JM +++++ so much more.

There another couple of independent points that helped to push me over the edge too.  

The first is the other members reactions when JK & JM go on with their shenanigans.  RM, Hobi, Jin, Suga & Tae all react differently, each and every one of them has a tell.  Suga and Tae go blank many times.  Jin lowers his head.  Hobi either had a worried look on his face or a big fat smile, and RM, well he’s the most obvious out of the lot.  It’s facial expressions, uneasy movement, fisting his thighs, looking to Hobi or Suga with pleading eyes, running to the two thinking he might have to defuse a moment, separating the two when he feels it’s needed.  It’s all that and then some.  Now if there is nothing ‘more’ going on between those two, why is all of that even necessary???  Those two’s interactions on camera just make the rest of the group nervous, especially RM.  Ask yourself the question: why??  

Another thing I keep asking myself is, if these two are clearly super close, why is there a constant need to downplay their closeness?  This is something that is done by BTS and BH as well as the fandom.  And I find it hard to understand, again, if there is nothing extra going on between them, why downplay them.  You may disagree with me on this, but to me it seems they are way closer than JM & Tae, but they are called ‘soulmates’ while JK & JM are ‘nothing’? It’s like they are there, and it’s clear as day just how close they are, but it’s not a subject they are allowed to talk about.  And the way the fandom is as much as ignoring it also raises so many questions for me.  If this is an innocent platonic close friendship, why ignore it?  How come the fandom isn’t celebrating it? 

Thing is, that not only does the fandom ignore their connection, they are being hated for it.  The level of anti and hatred  out there towards them is unbelievable.  And yet again, that raises the question of why?  If nothing is going on there why such anti towards those two, together, in particular?

At the end of the day, I guess life experience is probably what helps me out here.  I have been around for a while, experienced love and heartbreak, and also a long term relationship. I know the signs, you could say.  It helps being able to assess a situation and read into it.  

It’s ok to question yourself.  I do so constantly.  I watch and re-watch content.  I read interviews, I question my logic, my conclusions.  I, just like any normal person, do have self doubt at times.  Believe me, I would not have written what I have before checking and re-checking myself.  And still, these are my conclusions.  I believe that JK & JM are not only super close, but also romantically involved.  There you have it.

[natromanxoff]

Queen + Paul Rodgers live at the HSBC Arena in Buffalo, NY, USA - March 17, 2006

Photos supplied by: Little_Queenie99

Fan Stories

“I heard the news in December '05, Queen would be touring the USA in early 2006. WOW WAS I EXCITED! I had never seen Queen live before. I got into them a little in 1984, 2 years after their last US tour, and fully into them in 1989. I had gotten my daughter, Tessa into them in 2000 when she was 2 years old. So when I told her about the upcoming concert, she was very excited too! I asked and begged for tickets for Christmas and my birthday (March 10th) and was given them on my birthday. Probably the best present I have ever been given by anyone for any occasion. The day of the show was hell, waiting, waiting, waiting, would the time EVER COME???!!! Finally it was 2pm and time to leave work (early of course, the trip from Rochester to Buffalo is 90 minutes). I picked up my daughter from school (she practically knocked me over when she got to the office) We drove home to eat supper and change into our matching Queen shirts. Then after a few pictures, we were off! On the drive there I played some Queen songs she hadnt learned yet and a few of the Bad Company songs wed be hearing. Surprisingly she liked the song Bad Company best. When we got there it was 630pm. We immediately bought our souvenirs and brought them to the car so we didnt have to worry about them at all. They opened the doors at 7pm and we sat listening to Jimi Hendrix and Creedence Clearwater Revival songs as we grew impatient. At 8pm between songs of CCRs, the music failed to continue with another song. Then We Will Rock You from the musical played (My daughter was confused by this, she asked me if it was Freddie singing or Paul) then a bluegrass version of Fat Bottomed Girls (which was strange but pretty good). Then the lights dimmed and the remix of Its a Beautiful Day began, Im getting goose bumps just thinking about it! When Eminem started she got more confused but when Brian riffed along with the song I knew the time was here. Paul came out and sang Reaching Out and I told her to watch the black curtain because it would fall down when Roger started drumming, this she found pretty cool when it happened. When Brian came out and started the riff to Tie Your Mother Down I got tears in my eyes. Here in the same building was Queen, my all time favorite band and I was finally seeing them LIVE. Yeah, I know, Freddie wasnt there, If he was it was the only way the concert could have been better!

When Brian yelled Good Evening Buffalo! I got chills. Then he noodled about a bit (a little sounded like the intro solo in Headlong) and then they sang Fat Bottomed Girls. The first 2 songs are ones my daughter absolutely loves. See, when she was 2 I taught her Queen after she took an interest. I was in the car, We Are The Champions was on the radio, and I was singing along. By the end she was singing too!!! I figured I would teach her songs with easy Choruses. (Ones with only 2-4 sentences at most, better if it repeated the one or two lines and that was it) Quick to follow was We Will Rock You & Another One Bites The Dust. I should point out, to keep her interest I had little motions we did. For Example. During Hey Im Gonna Get You Too I pretended to tickle her. In We Are The Champions during Of The World I would raise both hands in the air. I knew I had something one day on the way to school. We had watched a live show the night before. In the car when WATC was on she only put up one arm and proudly exclaimed Daddy! I did it just like Freddie on TV! Over the next few years I taught her any song with an easy Chorus lyric Put Out The Fire, If You Cant Beat Them, Fat Bottomed Girls, Bicycle Race, Tie Your Mother Down, etc. She knows about 30-40 as of now. Now that weve seen Queen we will definitely be learning some harder songs. I plan on starting at Queen 1 and moving along as time goes on. I had warned her thered be songs played she didnt know and that songs she loved (like Put Out The Fire) wouldnt be played. She got really bored for a few minutes as they did I Want To Break Free (I think the worst song of the night, no surprise it was dropped a few shows later) & Take Love, which I personally loved but she didnt know it and well, you know how kids are! Then she perked up when she recognized Crazy Little Thing Called Love. She knew I had told her we had to yell Ready Freddie at the appropriate time. Sadly not many in my section did. However on the bootleg of the show, the area around the person taping got into it at least! Then out came Brian to do his Acoustic set. I was praying hed do 39 or even Long Away like on last years tour, but all we got was Love Of My Life at which point I cuddled up to my daughter and sang along with the crowd. On the way to the show she had heard for the first time Hammer To Fall. She isnt too into that one yet. Then came Feel Like Making Love and the surprise of the night Under Pressure. She liked it at the show and on her bootleg it is one of the more played cuts now. She really got into the next one as I did as well. Let There Be Drums was next and we both like Rogers solos. The crowd was clapping along to the main beat of the song which was neat too! Tessa was air-drumming along with Roger at one point. I got chills when the crowd was clapping along (clap clap clap. drums, clap clap clap drums) Then came Im In Love With My Car. The guitar solo was next and other than the ass who was complaining for them to just sing already I heard another asking who else was playing with Brian. I proudly turned around and said he is doing it all on his own. I always loved how he could have a base riff (usually a steady beat) and solo over it. People seemed amazed that he could get so many different sounds out of that guitar, from light to heavy to MONSTER like during Chinese Torture. Last Horizon was beautiful as always and you could literally hear the crowd take in their breath at the lights from the disco ball making the ceiling look like a star field. The piano came up from the floor and Bad Company was beginning. That one was one of the better Paul Rodgers tunes of the night. Cant Get Enough was ok I guess. Id have rather heard Ready For Love or Shooting Star.

Then came almost all songs Tessa knew. First, Another One Bites The Dust and then Dragon Attack which was surprisingly played like the album version and not like the old way from 1980-1984 when it was mixed with Now Im Here. We were on our feet dancing for these two! These Are The Days Of Our Lives was next and the chills were plentiful when the crowd applauded at video of John & Freddie. My sadness was kicking in as I knew we were getting to the end. Radio Ga Ga was next and Tessa and I did the clapping along with the crowd. Tessa got so excited at the next song. The Show Must Go On is one of her big favorites. She looks so serious when she sings. I have since told her that one of my favorite Queen lyrics is the lines My soul is painted like the wings on butterflies, Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die I knew it was all over for us next because when Paul pointed to the screen it meant time for Bohemian Rhapsody. I cried and so did Tessa at the view of our hero on the screen singing his most beloved song. I even took her over to the area by one of the screens and have a picture of her standing next to Freddie. We stood by the stage for the rest of the song and I got all choked up again at the end at the duet part. When they went offstage I took her back to our seat and told her about encores and how there would be 3 more songs. When We Will Rock You started she got up on her feet. Apparently while she told me a little while before that she was tired, she apparently wasnt anymore. At the end she was surprised they did All Right Now next. But she told me this is like when they did Friends Will Be Friends between Rock You and Champions. She liked All Right Now so much that on the way home when we heard a Buffalo station playing the Return Of The Champions version, she sang along! Champions was next and we have a nice picture of us swaying our arms back and forth. Sadly it was all over. The dream of seeing Queen had been realized. Now the concert was over and sadness ensued. On the way out I asked Tessa how she liked her first Queen concert and she told me it was the greatest concert ever. She had so much fun and her favorite part was when Freddie sang. I told her it was my favorite part too! Nothing against Paul but the nostalgia of the moment would be something I would never forget. I asked her how she liked Paul Rodgers and she told me he was a good singer and she liked it when he was on the top of the piano (During Bad Company) I have seen many concerts in my lifetime. From Iron Butterfly to Heart, From The Guess Who to Tim McGraw, and from Toby Keith to Cheap Trick. This was by far THE best show I have ever seen. I think if I went to another concert in my lifetime that it would be an automatic letdown as Queen and Paul Rodgers rocked the house! Hopefully I will get another experience seeing Queen so I may do another one of these. May the Queen + Paul Rodgers union last for a very long time! Afterwards my wife got a frame with 4 pictures from the show and our tickets in it and now it hangs on the wall. Tessa sits and stares at it every time she listens to her bootleg CD of the show.” - Michael & Tessa Fox

“We (my mom, dad, and I) arrived at the HSBC Arena in Buffalo on St. Patrick's Day after a long drive, and once they let the people in, we bought programs and such, and found our seats, throughout the pre-concert stage, they were playing a lot of old rock hits over the speakers (Hendrix and such) and about 5 minutes before the concert started, some Queen covers were played until the Beautiful Day mix was played. The energy at that point was almost sufficating. Many people who knew what this song singled were cheering while I tried to explain to my parents that the concert had officially started. Lose Yourself was played next and the lights went down and everyone went nuts. When Reaching Out started Paul appeared at the end of the catwalk near where I was standing and it was just magical. Then Brian went out on stage and started playing the chords to Tie Your Mother Down. It was amazing everyone was going nuts (and people said the crowd was quiet ;-) ) Most of everything after that was a blur. I was sick for the whole day and I would stand up and cheer...sit down and throw up :-P. Memorable moments were probably the energy at the beginning of the concert, Let There Be Drums, Bad Company definitely, Under Pressure, and the encore, just because it is. Ah, the whole concert was a memorable moment that I'll never forget. I also learned a valuable lesson about Queen concerts in general that I will utilize if I ever get to go to another one: Brian's solo is a great time for a bathroom break. :-D This concert is definitely the best I have ever seen, heard, and the only one I've ever experienced. I hope I get to go to another one in the future. Oh, and if anyone gets a chance to get a recording: GET IT!!!” - Smitty

(x)

[amyscascadingtabs]

don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you [chapter 1]

“Actually, I want to add one more rule.” “Yeah?” Jake leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and flexing his biceps through the green shirt with a smug grin. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” "Won't be a problem."

Amy Santiago doesn't date cops. Jake Peralta's sworn never to date a lawyer again. When a couple of drinks and the returning of a borrowed shirt ends with the two of them in bed together, Amy decides to take control of the situation the best way she knows how: a comprehensive set of rules. There's just one little thing she hadn't anticipated – Jake Peralta is full of surprises.

Written for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange.

AO3 link // playlist

My contribution to this year’s fic exchange, for @fezzle​! @b99fandomevents​​ 💛

1. i never saw you coming (and i’ll never be the same)

 He gets out of the car, and before Amy can gather the courage to shout after him, he’s disappeared from her sight.

She leans her forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing her fist and punching it in frustration. It doesn’t feel better, just makes her hand hurt. Amy pretends that’s what’s making her eyes tear up, and not the thought that she just screwed up her chances of ever seeing Jake Peralta again.

 five months earlier.

 The cop is five minutes late entering the courtroom, and Amy vows to dislike him from that point onward.

 What's worse is that he doesn't seem ashamed. He simply gives Judge Stewart an apologetic grin, runs a hand through his already messy hair, and sits down on the bench next to the sergeant Amy recognizes as Terry Jeffords. Amy gives him a polite faked smile to tell him she's noted this presence and she's going to win this case, but the cop doesn't seem to notice the toxicity in her facial expression, because she gets another wide grin back. Judging from the colorful marks on his teeth, it looks like he had candy for breakfast – could it be gummy bears? Either way, Amy's respect for the man sinks even lower.

 At least she won't have to worry about him, she tells herself. She already knows this case is about to be a win.

 That is until it turns out this man has a reply for everything. She’d been certain the evidence against her client was circumstantial at best, nowhere near enough to get him convicted on, and the notes she’d gone through from the initial police questioning had lacked significant information. It had been nothing short of sloppy, and she’d entered the courthouse this morning filled with glowing confidence. That same confidence is now seeping away, dripping onto the polished floors of the courtroom in exchange for heated frustration as it turns out the detective – Jake Peralta, she learns – was present at the scene earlier than Amy had gathered, and from the vantage point he had, saw her client running from the corner store at full speed.

“Would you say it’s possible my client was running for a different reason?” She asks, staring coldly into the detective’s eyes as she speaks. “Such as exercising, perhaps?”

“Well, he was carrying a huge green backpack, identical to the one he was wearing when my partner Charles caught him ten minutes later. So, no,” he says, meeting her look with a smug smile of his own. “I would say that’s unlikely.”

“But not impossible?”

“Considering we also found the stolen goods in that same backpack, I’d say the chance is pretty solid it was him.”

“The bags couldn’t have been switched? Or, as my client claims, the goods couldn’t have been dropped in there by someone who wanted to get rid of them?”

“With all due respect,” says Jake Peralta, and the self-assuredness in his voice is enough for her to know the case is lost. “The streets were more crowded than a Taylor Swift concert, your honor. Someone would have seen something.”

 ~

 It’s late Friday afternoon by the time Amy returns to the office of Newsom & Associates, but there’s still plenty of her coworkers left to watch as she throws her briefcase on top of the chair before closing the door to her office and digging out her pack of shame cigarettes from the bottom drawer of her desk. The only window in the room opens out to a back alley with trash cans and forgotten bikes, which is a drab view most of the time but comes in handy for secret shame-smoking. She closes her eyes and leans back against the wall, trying to savor the first inhale. She hates the habit and always tells herself she’s going to quit soon, but at times when work stresses her out like this, there’s no better fix. It’s all Jake Peralta’s fault, anyway. He’d waved at her when they’d left the courtroom, looking genuinely pleased to see her, and that had only worsened her frustration. It’s one thing being defeated – it’s worse when the winner acts like it wasn’t even a big deal.

 “You should stop that.” The sound of Rosa’s voice appearing in the doorway to Amy’s office causes her to inhale too much smoke, coughing and tearing up as she hurries to extinguish the cigarette butt on the windowsill. “It’s gross.”

“I needed it,” Amy coughs again before drying her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. “You should’ve been there. That fucking detective ruined my defense.”

“So? It happens. Doesn’t make you a bad lawyer. Stop pitying yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you win nearly all your cases,” Amy mumbles. “And everyone’s terrified of you.”

Rosa does a little shrug, but Amy thinks she can spot the hint of a smile on her lips. She can’t be certain, though. Rosa almost never smiles, but that’s not nearly the most terrifying thing about her. She also rides her motorcycle to court and wears leather jackets and skin-tight black jeans to trials, and somehow no one's ever dared to police her on it. Amy once asked her out of curiosity if putting on a blazer would really hurt that much, and the stare she got back told her she’d be a fool to make that mistake again.

“Either way, it's not that. It was that cop who ruined everything. I mean, he showed up late, for god’s sake, with candy in his teeth and a wrinkled suit! But he somehow had an answer and explanation for everything,” Amy snorts. “And he smiled the whole time like he’d already won. And he referenced Taylor Swift! During the trial! Who does that?”

Rosa lets out a laugh. “You're a Swift hater? God, please don't tell me you took Kanye’s side too.”

“I didn't – that's beside the point!”

“Which is?”

“That he has zero respect for the sacred rules of a courtroom, and gets away with it all because of that super-charm smile.”

“Yeah, you mentioned the smile. Twice.”

“It was just so…” She clenches her fist until her red nails press into her palm to the point of pain, then releases it. “It's fine. I’ll win my next case, and there are lots of cops in New York. I probably won't ever see him again.”

 ~

 Amy can barely hide her frustration in court the next week when she hears the doors open and looks up from the papers she was sorting, only to see Jake Peralta for the second time in her life. He’s on time today, which she supposes is progress, but there are stains on his shirt that seem to be coming from the can of orange soda he’s holding in his hand. She wonders if it's his breakfast. If that's his diet, he looks surprisingly fit in a grey suit for it.

 He grins again when he sees her, raising his hand in a lazy wave. Amy gives him a forced smile, then returns to her papers. She’ll have to make sure to win this time.

 But despite her confidence and very best efforts, she loses to Jake Peralta yet another time.

And another.

And another.

 It's not that she's suddenly magically unlucky, because she still manages to win several other cases, but every time Jake Peralta shows up to testify, without fault, Amy loses.

It infuriates her.

 The worst part is that Jake seems oblivious to her anger. He smiles at her every time they leave the courtroom, even though she returns them with little to no genuineness at all. She once spots him doing a childish victory gesture outside the courthouse, but he never once takes the opportunity to brag about his win to her face.

 Aside from his surprisingly good manners when it comes to bragging, though, he's a mess. There's always some kind of stain on his shirt or his cheek that he seems unaware of, his ways of describing things involve one too many pop culture references for Amy’s liking, and she starts preparing to meet him every time a detective is five minutes late. She wonders if no one's ever told him how one is supposed to behave in a courtroom, but he’s usually accompanied by the precinct’s sergeant, so that seems unlikely. The more likely option, Amy figures, is that he just doesn't seem to find it that important; especially considering he seems to get away with it every single time.

 She swears it's all because of that stupid infectious smile.

 ~

 It pleases Amy to no end when she learns that Jake Peralta is going to be the witness in one of the strongest cases she’s had in a long while. The client was clearly acting in self-defense, she has a witness of her own who can testify to that, and although she knows that nothing is for certain until the verdict falls, she’s got a good feeling about this one. Finally, the day has come for Jake Peralta to watch her win.

 At first, the state attorney’s case seems solid. Jake is assisted by a short, round-faced man with dark brown hair and an expression that looks like he’s seconds away from apologizing for taking up everyone’s time, but his suit is matched and perfectly straight and he gets right to the point without any odd references, so Amy still earns a fair amount of respect for detective Charles Boyle. He and Jake had entered the subway car after hearing about a fight taking place, and stepped on just in time to watch her client aim a closed-fist punch at the face of the man on top of him. It’s clear and convincing, but Amy knows that after the recess, it will be her time to shine. She loves these moments, when it’s obvious the other side thinks they have it in the bag but she knows something they don’t, and they have no idea what’s coming. She knows trials are about justice and not personal victories – but she’s only human. Winning is always a thrill.

 She’s thinking about how she’s going to be celebrating her win later this evening when Jake Peralta bumps into her at the coffee shop neighboring the courthouse. As in, literally bumps into her, with his elbow when he hurries forward to grab a plastic cup with whipped cream and so much caramel syrup on top of the coffee that Amy pities his dentist.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry… wait, it's you!” He shines up as if he’d just seen a past good friend, and Amy’s once more taken aback by how polite he is. A lot of cops she meets during trials either tend to make fun of her profession or glare bitterly at her from a distance, but Jake's doing neither. He even reaches out his free hand to shake hers, so she accepts. “Jake Peralta – wow, you have a very firm handshake.”

“I took a seminar. Amy Santiago.”

“Where?” He asks, but she ignores him and moves forward in line to order her coffee with milk.

“Nothing for your client? Wow. I’d expected you to have better manners than that, Santiago.”

“I offered, but he wanted to spend recess with his partner for moral support. See?” She raises a brow at him. “I do have manners.”

There's that smile again, up close this time, and Amy's relieved when the barista hands her the coffee so she can hide the involuntary blush in her cheeks. She never noticed he had dimples before.

“So, how are you feeling about the rest of the trial, then? Ready to go defend the guilty guy?”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Peralta. Famously one of the most sacred principles in the American justice system. And I was born ready.”

“And lose. The whole question was, are you ready to go defend the guilty guy and lose, and you said you were born that way.” Jake grins in a way that makes him look like an overgrown mischievous school kid. Maybe not that far off, Amy thinks.

“Twist my words all you want, I am winning this case.” She hesitates for a moment, noticing Jake's detective partner looking at the two of them from a table in the corner of the room. Not normally something she'd be that creeped out by, if it hadn't been for the fact that the man isn’t tearing his eyes away from them, and he looks weirdly overjoyed. “Uhm, is detective Boyle okay? He's staring at us pretty intensely.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, he has… an eye condition.” Jake turns around and mouths something that looks to be BOYLE, and the man rolls his eyes before stalking away. “Ignore him. Anyway… so what do you think about the judge?”

 Amy's about to launch into a description of her good experience with judge Myers when someone brushes past her with their iced coffee in a hurry, losing control of the plastic cup. The unsecured lid wobbles, and before Amy realizes what’s about to happen, cold coffee splashes onto her earlier pristine white blouse. “Fuck!” She reaches for a bunch of paper napkins and tries to dab the worst away with them, but the milky coffee is already seeping through the fabric and leaving an obvious stain that her blazer can’t hide.

“What a jerk,” Jake mutters, glaring in the direction of where the stranger disappeared.

“Never mind that! I don’t have another shirt! I can’t go into a courtroom looking like this! Unlike you, I actually care about whether my clothes have giant stains on them!”

“First of all, rude, and second of all, they’re not giant.”

“I don’t care. I’m screwed. Fuck, I don’t have time to run back home before the trial starts – I guess I could call Rosa –”

“Hey, hey.” Jake holds up his hands as if trying to calm her down, which only makes Amy more frustrated. “I know this is kind of crazy, but, I have a shirt in my car that I was planning to return to my ex. But emphasis on ex, so…” He shrugs. “You could borrow it?”

 Amy considers her options. On the one hand, she figures there’s about an eighty percent chance that whatever Jake has in his car also has some kind of mysterious stain on it, but on the other hand, she took the subway today and there's no way she’ll make it to her apartment and back before the court is back in session. Asking for a longer recess is an option, but making everyone wait simply because she needs a change of clothes makes her too uncomfortable to even consider.

“Fine,” she relents. “Where's your car?”

 Jake's car turns out to be an old Mustang, which Amy can tell even from her strictly limited car-knowledge is pretty impressive, but she doesn't understand how he can find anything in there. The backseat is a mess of empty orange soda bottles, a couple of frisbees, candy wrappers, what looks to be cartoons and old CDs, and the cup holders have shaving foam next to another can of orange soda. She's equally surprised and impressed when he pulls out a clean, dark blue charmeuse blouse. Whoever Jake's ex-girlfriend was, she seems to have both taste and money.

“You're totally saving my day today,” she says as he gives it to her. “You really didn't have to.”

“Prove that cops aren't all bad?” Amy rolls her eyes, and Jake laughs. “Just kidding. You have to give it back, though.”

“As soon as I’ve washed it. Wait, we have to be able to get in touch.” She digs in the inside pocket of her briefcase and pulls out two of her business cards. “I’m assuming you don't have any, so write your number on the back of that one.”

“Rude, but correct.” He scribbles down something on one of the cards before giving it back. “I’ll see you up there, then… Amy Santiago.”

Something about the way he says her name, slowly and with perfect pronunciation, makes her want to hear it again. She hurries back into the building and toward the bathrooms, hopefully before he can tell that she's blushing.

 “The defense may call the next witness.”

“The defense calls Elinor Simons.” Amy can feel everyone's eyes on her as well as the witness as a young girl, no more than eighteen, walks up to the stand. She's pale, but she looks determined, and Amy gives her a comforting smile as she swears the oath.

 Elinor’s voice trembles at her first words, but Amy keeps steady eye contact with her, and soon she’s speaking louder and less hesitant. She had been on her way to her friend’s house when she entered the same subway car as the two young men, and had overheard the two of them fighting over something. Sitting only a few seats away from them in the near-empty car, she’d noticed the defendant looking scared, and out of curiosity, had turned off her music. She’d heard the man who’d later gotten attacked – Mr. Lorentz – scream that the defendant was an asshole, and then she’d seen him push him to the floor, much unlike the way the prosecution had described a course of events in which both men had slipped. It had scared her, so she’d gotten up to walk away, but before she could move she’d seen Mr. Lorentz leaning down.

“It looked like he was about to hit the defendant,” she says without wavering, and Amy can see a few of the jury members nodding in understanding. “And even if they were about the same size, Mr. Lorentz looked really strong. The defendant tried, but it seemed to me like he was unable to get up. I remember thinking this wasn’t going to end well, so I headed for the end of the car before they noticed me.”

“And you’re sure of what you saw?”

“Completely sure. I only found out later that the defendant was a cousin of my sister’s boyfriend, which is how I learned about the trial.”

Amy nods and clasps her hands together, trying to assume a confident stance as she keeps her eyes focused on the witness stand. “Elinor, in the position he was in, do you believe that the defendant would have been scared?”

“I think anyone would have been.”

“So the punch witnesses watched the defendant throw, could it have been in self-defense?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

Amy smiles. “Thank you. No further questions.”

 The prosecution’s closing arguments are short and precise, sticking entirely to the part of the events that took part after the police walked in. The district attorney, a balding man in his fifties, as good as overlooks Elinor’s testimony in favor of focusing in on detailed descriptions of the headaches Mr. Lorentz had experienced after the event, and that alone is enough to make Amy’s blood boil; but instead she just sits there, waiting with a polite smile on her lips.

 Finally, the other attorney sits down, and the judge nods at Amy to stand up. During her very first trials, this moment used to freak her out – everyone’s eyes on her and waiting expectantly – but with time she’s come to love this. It reminds her of the thrill of getting the last word in a heated fight with her siblings when she was younger, only now, she doesn’t have to shout to be heard. Everyone’s already listening.

 “Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: it’s correct that the defendant hit Mr. Lorentz on that train. He admits to doing so himself.” Amy nods to the young man sitting next to her, fidgeting nervously with the cuffs on his shirt. “But there is one key aspect which the prosecution has so conveniently chosen to ignore, and that is the events which led up to Mr. Petersen’s actions. A background which he not only has explained clearly himself, but which is also backed up by Ms. Simmons’ testimony.” She gestures with her hand to Elinor.

“You see, Mr. Petersen wasn’t acting unprovoked. When the incident happened, he had been pushed to the floor, and like both my client and the witness described, he was unable to get up. Mr. Lorentz himself admits to practicing weightlifting; he’s not a weak man, and in the moment, he was clearly upset with the defendant. As Ms. Simmons put it… “ She takes a break to gather the attention of everyone in the room. “Anyone in that position would have been terrified.”

“Under New York Law, Penal Law paragraph thirty-five point fifteen, a person is justified in using physical force against another, when that person is under the reasonable belief that the physical force is necessary to defend the person from what they reasonably believe to be the illegal imminent use of force or the illegal use of force. Mr. Petersen was stuck, and under the reasonable belief that Mr. Lorentz could hurt him unless he managed to free himself. He acted in self-defense, which I remind you that the prosecution has not been able to disprove. In fact, the case against Mr. Petersen cannot be proved against reasonable doubt, which means that you must find him… not guilty.”

 From the other side of the room, she swears she can feel Jake’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she sees him mouthing nice job.

 ~

 “What did you say he looked like, now again? Except for crazy hot and adorable?” Kylie takes another sip of her mojito, spying over the crowded bar.

“Okay, I said neither of those things.”

Kylie shrugs. “Didn’t have to.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, I guess kind of a bigger nose… and I don’t know what he wears outside of court, but there was a leather jacket in the front seat of his car, so maybe that?” She strains her neck to try and see through the Friday night crowd. She’s never been to this particular Brooklyn bar before, but Jake had suggested it when Amy asked about a good place to give him back the shirt, and she’d figured after a long week, she might as well treat herself to a couple of after-work drinks with a friend. After being asked about the so-called mystery hottie five times, though, she’s starting to regret bringing Kylie along.

“Mm, that’s like, all the guys in here… oh, wait, that one’s waving to you!” Kylie points to a figure near the door, elbowing Amy in the side and causing her to nearly choke on her wine. She’s still coughing when Jake walks up to them, trying to offer him a smile while drying her eyes. Jake looks politely confused, but shakes Kylie’s hand in the meantime.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says with a meaning wink to Amy before sliding off the leather barstool, leaving it for Jake. “Have a good night!”

“Ignore her.” Amy sighs. “Sorry, I…”

“No, no worries,” Jake says, and the honest care in his expression makes her feel oddly warm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She waves a dismissive hand and picks up the dry-cleaning bag hanging on the back of her chair. “Well, here’s the shirt. Thank you for the loan. Or thank your ex, I suppose.”

“Dry-cleaned, really? You truly are type A.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, it makes sense.” He nods to the glass in her hand. “Celebrating Tuesday’s win?”

“Something like that. It was Monday, though,” she can’t stop herself from correcting him. “I don’t get a lot of time off. Gotta make the best out of it.”

“Yeah, me neither. Do you mind if I join you for another drink? Or maybe you should do water, in case you choke again?”

Something about the way he poses it like a challenge makes her take the glass, put it to her lips, and swallow the rest of the wine in one gulp. “I think I can handle it.”

 They pay for their own drinks, because whatever this meeting is, it’s definitely not a date, and it makes Amy relieved that Jake doesn’t seem to think so either.

“A toast,” he suggests. “To your win this week. I gotta give it to you, those closing statements were solid.”

“To justice,” Amy says, and they raise their beer bottles in unison. “And my win. Finally.”

“Yeah, what has it been, like, five wins for me?”

“Four, but dream on, Peralta.”

Jake laughs. The dimples in his cheeks become even more prominent when he laughs, Amy notes. “Have you always been this intense about winning cases, then? Or is it something that comes with law school? Like there’s a class in being petty about this stuff?”

You’re intense too, she thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud. “Maybe. I have seven brothers, and I was the only girl. I got pretty good at winning fights using other things than physical strength when I was a kid. Actually, sometimes physical strength, too.”

“I feel like you could beat someone up if you wanted to. You could surprise them.”

“Oh, I could most definitely beat someone up if I wanted to. But I stuck to arguing. I got good at it. And I always had good grades, so I ended up at Columbia, and I’ve never really regretted it.” She takes a swig of her beer. “Not even when cops call me the devil.”

“I wouldn’t call you the devil,” Jake says. “I mean, do I think you lack a bit of a moral compass? Probably. But each to their own.”

She leans her head a little bit to the side, eyeing him closely. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, you have to defend people that you know did awful things, right? Doesn’t that make you feel sick sometimes?”

“I don’t have to defend their actions. Most times, it’s not even about that. It’s about making sure the trial is fair, the evidence is sufficient and their rights are respected, so that if there’s a conviction, it’s actually beyond any reasonable doubt. I like to believe most people are better than their worst moments. I see it as my job to make sure they’re treated that way.”

“Huh.” Jake nods slowly. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Plus,” she winks, “someone’s gotta hold you guys accountable, right?”

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “Hey, did you say you went to Columbia? My captain’s husband teaches law there. Did you ever have a Kevin Cozner?”

“No way! Your captain is Raymond Holt?” She’s speaking way too loudly, she can tell from the way other people are glancing at her, but Jake looks entertained. “Sorry, it’s just – Professor Cozner was my favorite constitutional law teacher. I still send him and Raymond Christmas cards every year!”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Jake grins. “But, how weird is that? Almost like the universe is bringing us together or something.”

Amy thinks that it’s not that weird, since Kevin must teach hundreds of students every year that g on to become lawyers, but she kind of wants to keep seeing that smile on Jake’s face forever, so she nods. “So weird.”

 They order another drink, plus some chips and nuts when Jake realizes he forgot to eat dinner, and move to another table in the back of the room. Amy’s surprised how comfortable she feels in his presence. It’s like she can’t wipe the smile off her face but doesn’t want to, and with time and a little more alcohol, jokes that she barely would have noticed on any other day become laugh-out-loud funny. It feels natural, even though she’s not sure how, and she tries not to glance at the clock on the wall when he doesn’t either. She’s got work to do tomorrow and she can’t stay out forever, but she doesn’t want to be reminded that this evening has to end at some point.

 “So what made you become a cop, then?” She asks when she realizes she’s the only one who’s shared her origin story tonight. “Childhood superhero dreams?”

Jake shines up like he’s been waiting for the question all night. “Oh, that’s easy. Die Hard.”

“Really?”

“For sure. Actually, my mom said I was always good at protecting people, so I ended up doing it for a job. But I think that’s bullshit. It was definitely Die Hard.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Amy confesses, and Jake stares at her like she just insulted his entire being. “But if you want a cop movie, my top three’s Training Day, Lethal Weapon, and Fargo.”

“Wrong, wrong, and wrong! How can you not have seen Die Hard? It’s classic, man!”

“I just never did! How many lawyer movies have you seen, then?”

“Uhm…” Jake squints. “Charles made me watch Legally Blonde once? It was pretty good, honestly.”

“Well, duh, that movie is a cinematic masterpiece and a feminist work of art. How feminist is Die Hard, from a scale of one to ten?”

“Hey! Holly Gennaro does plenty of cool stuff throughout the movies! You’re just going to have to watch them yourself.”

“I can almost guarantee you I won’t.”

“Fine, but you’re missing out.” He grabs a couple of peanuts from the jar between them, throwing them in the air and catching them in his mouth. “Cool trick, right?”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is this what you do at work all day?”

“I did teach myself that during stakeouts, but no. Whatever. Throw me another one.” She does, and he catches it again, this time almost sliding off the barstool in the process. She laughs a bubbling laugh as he does it another time. “Now you.”

“Fine. Try me.” The peanut flies through the air between them, and she tries to dive for it, but it just ends up landing at her feet. “Okay, another one.” She misses that one too. “Okay, there must be something wrong with these nuts.”

“Title of your sextape.”

“Title of my what?”

“Nevermind.” Jake laughs. “You just need some practice. Maybe at work? It could liven up a trial.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t need practice. Just need a better tactic.” Without thinking, she grabs a handful of them this time, throwing them in the air. This time, she catches a few of them in her mouth, while the rest end up spread over the couch and floor. “The key is volume!”

“Yeah, and the bartender is looking at you like he wants to kill you, so maybe don’t do it again or we’ll get thrown out.”

“It’s fine, I’m a lawyer.”

“That phrase works well to get out of trouble?”

“If you know what you’re doing. We could order more drinks to keep him happy?”

“Shots?”

“I’m down if you’re down.”

 Jake orders a Kamikaze shot for each of them, and as she reaches forward to take the second glass, her hand brushes against the top of his for a moment longer than necessary, resting there. It’s warm, and it feels calloused but somehow soft at the same time. They look at each other, his light brown eyes staring into hers, and she feels instantly hyper-aware that they’re around far, far, too many people.

She lets go of his hand, taking the shot and swallowing it before anyone can notice what’s happening. It smells like sour hand sanitizer and burns going down, and she laughs at Jake’s grimace when he drinks his.

“God, every time.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, I know this is crazy, but… do you maybe want to get out of here? We could have another drink at my place… watch Die Hard… whatever.”

“Mm, yeah. Maybe I should check that the shirt gets back to your place properly?”

“Shirt? What shirt? Oh, right, fuck, the shirt!” Jake spins in place, rushing back to the table where they were just sat. “Shit, I probably spilled beer on it, Sophia’s going to be pissed now...”

“It’s still in the bag, smartass.” Amy shows him. “Ta-da. Shirt’s still clean. Comes in handy being type A sometimes, huh?”

Jake sighs. “I know you're making fun of me, but I could seriously kiss you right now.”

 Maybe it’s the four drinks, maybe it’s the thrill that comes with how rarely she does this, or maybe it’s just sheer and wild impulse, but Amy finds herself whispering,

“Maybe we should get out of here, then.”

 ~

 Amy learns a lot of things that night.

 She learns that Jake Peralta is a seriously good kisser, tasting faintly of orange soda beneath the alcohol and salt, and that being pressed against his front door with his hands protecting her head strikes the perfect balance between feeling adventurous and safe. She learns that he’s never really quiet, soft moans and sighs filling the room in the breaks between their kisses, but that the sound only makes her want more.

 She learns that he wears even more layers than her. Beneath the leather jacket and hoodie is a checkered blue flannel that has way too many buttons for her liking right now, and she curses her slight tipsiness while working at them one by one. When she's finally done, Jake pulls the grey t-shirt over his head, and she barely has time to pause to admire how he somehow can look fit despite that catastrophic diet, or the curls on his chest that are begging for her to run her fingers through them, before he's asking “my turn?”. She learns that Jake Peralta is impatient, that his hands work fast on the buttons of her cerise shirt, and that he gets adorably confused when he can't find the button on her suit pants.

“It's on the side,” she tells him and shows him the zipper, and then they're both giggling until she kisses him like that and it's back on again.

 She learns that his hands feel good, sliding slowly up the sides of her stomach and back and rubbing against her shoulder blades. She unclasps the white t-shirt bra for him, smiling to herself as he swallows quickly.

“God, you’re hot,” he whispers, and the soft bites he trails down her chest and stomach make her feel that way, too.

 They move to his bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind them, and then she’s underneath him and breathing hard as his mouth moves lower, closer. The anticipation of it all is driving her mad, but then he looks up at her and asks “okay?” with the most sincere and caring expression, and Amy’s had very, very few one-night-stands in her life, but she’s certainly never had one like this.

“Okay,” she nods, and there’s that familiar grin again, but this time it makes her feel warm in a very specific place.

 She learns that Jake Peralta can do a whole lot more with his mouth than talking people’s ears off. His breath ghosts over her through her underwear at first, warming her up even though it’s barely even necessary, and then he’s finally pulling down the black material and helping her kick them off. His tongue is careful at first, just tasting her as if to gauge her expression, but then she nods at him to continue and the next second, her head is thrown back as she lets out a gasp.

 She learns that he likes it when she pulls his hair. At first, her hands are just lightly tangling in it for practicality, but then she holds on tighter as a means of control when her legs begin to tense up and the familiar pressure is starting to rise. She’s raising her hips slightly only to lower them again, helping him get her there, and the curls of his hair are just begging to be pulled.

“Do that again,” he pauses to say, so she tugs his hair harder and he straight-up moans.

 She learns that he can make her scream, which she wasn’t expecting, and she rocks through the euphoric waves and pants and practically melts into the bed as she comes down from it.

“That good?” He winks, and she wants to roll her eyes, but he did just make her come harder than she remembers doing in a long time, so she kisses the smile off of him instead, tasting her arousal on his lips.

She learns that he's respectful and a gentleman, telling her that they can stop this here if she'd rather, but she doesn’t want to, and they don’t. He has to rifle through the drawer in his bedside table for a while before he finds a condom – maybe he doesn’t do this as often as she’d thought, maybe it’s another sign of his poor organization skills, but he finds one soon enough so she’s not sure she cares – and then it’s a little bit of a blur, but she rolls it on him with precise strokes and lowers herself on top of him and oh my god.

 She learns that when he looks at her, when he touches her, it makes her feel powerful and special all at once. He plays with her boobs as she sets the pace, his thumbs rolling against her nipples in a way she didn’t realize she liked, and she picks up her rhythm, clenching around him and leaning back on his raised thighs.

 She learns just how enjoyable it is to watch him fall apart underneath her. His pace stutters and he curses, groaning a confession of how close he is, and she could almost come again from watching him alone but she brings two fingers to her clit and touches herself anyway. He finishes before her, spilling out inside the condom with a moan that she can only imitate, collapsing against his chest as she brings herself to orgasm again right after him.

 When they're done learning, they collapse together in his bed. For a moment, Amy considers turning around and calling a cab home, because that would be the most responsible thing to do, but then Jake throws an arm around her to pull her closer, and after all, she's still a little tipsy.

What harm could it possibly do, anyway?

 ~

 Sharp, unforgiving morning light wakes Amy up before her alarm the next morning. She must have forgotten to close the blinds last night, she thinks, and rolls over on the other side so the light doesn't hurt her eyes. She expects the usual greeting of a sea of pillows, and has to stop herself from letting out a yelp of surprise when instead, she's hit with a wall of Jake sleeping with his back to her. A vague memory of them falling asleep like this hits her. He’d wanted to be the little spoon, she remembers.

 At first, knowing that intimate fact about him makes her feel proud. Then it makes her panic.

 She jumps out of bed, throwing off her part of the comforter in search of her clothes. She finds her underwear and bra together with her shirt, trying to dress as quietly as possible, quick before Jake wakes up and discovers that she's half-naked in his apartment and they have to have a very, very awkward talk –

“Amy? What are you doing?”

Too late.

 She freezes on the spot, chewing on her lip as she fumbles for an explanation. Jake’s eyes rake over her with curiosity, which somehow feels a lot more exposing today than it did last night, and it's making her lose track of her words. His bed head curls and disoriented smile is decidedly not helping her focus.

“We slept together last night,” she manages.

Jake’s smile grows wider and prouder as he sits up fully in bed. Amy blushes as she notices the shadow of two hickeys way too close to his neck to be professional.

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Very funny.” She sees her pants thrown across the back of a massage chair and quickly reaches for them. “But this… You know this can’t be a thing, right? Just so we're on the same page about it.”

Jake frowns. “What do you mean with a thing?”

“This – us – we can't date, Jake. I know that. You know that.”

He’s silent for a moment before he fakes a shudder. “Yeah, yeah, no. I’ve dated lawyers before. Never ends well.”

“You have?” The reveal surprises her. “It doesn't matter. This can’t happen.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she exhales. “I’m just going to find my clothes, then, and then I’m going to leave.”

“Hey, wait.” He twists his hands together, bringing them to his chin with a smile. “This is going to sound weird, but… even if nothing can happen between us, I’m still glad we had sex last night.”

 The confession takes her by surprise, and Amy wonders again if she just doesn't know anything about one-night-stands. Sleep together, have fun, sneak out in the morning before anything can go deeper – isn't that how it's supposed to go? If so, she's majorly failing, because she can't stop herself from giving him another shy smile in return.

“Me too. Just because, we were like… really good at it.”

“Stupid good!” Jake exclaims. “It makes no sense!”

“We still can't date, though,” she reminds him. “So how do we work this out?”

“Well, it sort of looked like you were planning to just leave, and I’m not going to stop you if that's your choice, but… there is one more option.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We could be friends with benefits,” he shrugs. “None of the commitment, none of the weird incompatibilities between a cop and a lawyer, just us and some stupid good sex.”

“Friends with benefits? Do the kids really say that, still?”

“I’m saying you could consider it.”

 Amy's first instinct is to protest, to say absolutely not and leave on the spot. Her relationship history may not contain that many names, but at least they’ve all been fairly straightforward and conventional. She's never done something like this before, and the mere idea of jumping into something so unknown with someone like Jake scares her shitless.

 Then again, she's also never been with someone like Jake. Yesterday hadn't been a date, but it had still been better than all the awkward dinners and half-hearted walks she's been at since she broke up with Teddy a year ago. And the sex – well, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't already thinking of doing that again.

 “There would need to be rules,” she says.

“Sure, we can come up with some.”

“I’ll write a contract.”

“We need a contract?”

“Yeah,” she decides. “If this is going to work, we need a comprehensive set of rules, and they need to be written down, because I don't trust you not to adjust them in your head last minute.”

“How am I attracted to you? But, fine.”

Amy shakes her head, closing the last button on the shirt that had been left unbuttoned until now. “So… I’ll put together a draft and bring it over tonight? Your place?”

Jake gapes at her for a moment like he can't believe what he hears, but then he nods. “I’m free.”

“Cool. I’ll see you tonight, then.” With that, she pulls on her socks and shoes, leaving before she can freak out again.

“Cool, cool,” she hears just before closing the door. “Friends with benefits. Cool, cool, cool, cool… cool.”

 ~