#me and my 17 deep friend group taking up a whole half of the street

[wintervvidow]

apricity

part one.

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, blood mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,364

A/N: hi! welcome to part one of apricity! set in mid-captain america: the winter soldier. this idea has been in my head for a very long time and I am super excited to finally get it out. in this story I use the term “winter widow” , similar to the “winter soldier”, it has no correlation to bucky and natasha here. prolonged italics indicate a flashback.  friendly feedback is appreciated! thank you! <3

ALSO: please know that future parts will take a WHILE. I just want to get the first part out to get the ball rolling.

MASTERLIST 

The silence is what breaks her. She swears she would have been fine if it weren't for the silence, the screams of innocent bystanders no longer existed, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose and stinging her eyes. Aside from the erratic breaths coming from both their lips, you could hear a pin drop as their eyes stared at each other in a blinding intensity as Steve Rogers called out to him, “Bucky?”

The gun feels entirely too heavy in her hands as her lungs expand rapidly, eyes unmoving from the ghost of a man in front of her. Except he isn't a ghost anymore. He's here, alive. James Buchanan Barnes, her Bucky, alive.

He’s clad in all-black tactical gear, metal arm glinting blindingly in the sun. His eyes are a stormy shade of blue, same as the ones that haunt her in her nightmares, not the kind blue she wishes she could have back. The Winter Soldier is the shell of the man she was in love with, the man in front of her was the man she learned to love all the same. He protected her even when he didn’t remember her, even the brainwashing couldn’t fully get rid of the love they both had for one another. Although HYDRA fought like hell to make them both forget. It never worked though, fragments of memory always littered their conscience. 

His brows furrow, overgrown hair in his eyes, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Deep down in her bones, she knew he was alive. The last time she saw him he was being wiped by HYDRA, his screams masking her disappearance into the winter weather. HYDRA searched high and low for her, yet they forgot that they were the ones to train her. HYDRA perfected her, taught her how to disappear into thin air, and that's just what she did. They went as far as to send the Winter Soldier to find her, but even he couldn’t track her. Florence was a ghost. 

Florence Morozov was many things before she was an assassin; she was an immigrant daughter, a friend, a nurse, and her greatest title of all, the love of Bucky Barnes' life, his fiancée. The couple, along with the third wheel Steve, were inseparable in their younger days before the second war. Where there was one, the other two were usually not far behind. 

The trio had gone to the Stark Expo the night before Bucky got shipped off to the war. That night Bucky had proposed with a small emerald ring, promising her that when he got back they'd get married, move into a little white picket fence house, and settle down. They dreamed of growing old together surrounded by their kids and grandchildren. Only that dream had been crushed under the heel of HYDRA, not long after Florence enlisted as a nurse and Steve became Captain America, notably leading the Howling Commandos. Florence worked closely along with them, acting as a medic when needed. 

When Steve woke up from his 70-year slumber on ice, Florence had a lot of explaining to do. How she was alive, what she had been doing, where she had been. She told Steve what he needed to know, leaving Bucky out of the answers. She had to protect him, even if it meant lying to their shared best friend. She would do anything to protect Bucky. 

Florence explained to Steve that when she fell off the train with Bucky, she had been captured by HYDRA and experimented on. She was sent to the Red Room to be trained and then sent back to HYDRA in the ‘50s. She was their puppet for 46 years, coined the name the Winter Widow before she disappeared in late December of 1991. Florence was on the run for 17 years before she was taken in by Clint Barton, joining S.H.I.E.L.D along with Natasha Romanoff. 

Natasha and Florence grew to be very close over the years, the trauma they both shared bonded them. Natasha was the only one to know the full story of Bucky, every nitty-gritty detail that haunted Florence in her dreams. When Nick Fury had been killed, both Florence and Natasha immediately recognized the ballistics information, a silent agreement between the two redheads to only tell Steve what he needed to know, no more than that. Florence only told Steve that she knew the Winter Soldier, nothing more. Natasha understood her secrets, she had them herself, her response of, "That's not my story to tell, we all have secrets for a reason."

Florence quickly tracked everything up to this moment. Fury being attacked, Steve's description of the shooter, the Winter Soldier attacking them on the highway only minutes ago. And then there was the chase between the soldier and Florence, trying to divert him. And it worked, Florence had managed to distract him until he got too close, the pair of lovers engaging in hand-to-hand combat until Steve intervened.

And now here she was standing in the middle of the street with a bullet in her shoulder from none other than the Winter Soldier. Flashes of the mission in Odessa running through her mind, he had shot her in the thigh then, Natasha in the abdomen. Steve stood in shock as the ghost disappeared, leaving Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Florence to be surrounded by HYDRA agents and arrested. 

Blood trickled down Florence’s shoulder as she was seated between Sam and Natasha in the back of the truck. Her shoulder felt white-hot as she grits her teeth, Sam nervously glancing at her every second. Steve sat across from them, visibly upset, lifting his head to glare at Florence, eyes cold, "You said you knew the Winter Soldier, that you two had a history, not that it was Bucky!" Steve felt betrayed, his oldest friend lying to his face for years about his best friend.  

Sam angrily glared at Steve as Florence rasped her response with a shaky breath, "Steve, I'm kind of bleeding out right now. This is going to have to wait, just know I had my reasons. I did it to protect him. And you." 

Florence knew this day would come. Bucky wouldn’t be a ghost forever. She fought herself internally every night, dreaming of him. It was always him; the good and bad, the Red Room, what happened after the Red Room, their mission in Romania, and every second in between. She was permanently trapped in her own personal hell.

Steve continued on, “It was him. He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me.”

Florence knew the feeling. Every time Bucky was reprogrammed, she had to convince him to loosen his grip around her throat, begging him to recognize her before he killed her. And every time he did, his eyes flashing in recognition and guilt. And then he would hold her shivering body against his in the confines of their shared cell, murmuring in her ear that he was sorry. And she knew he meant it. Even if his mind barely recognized her, his heart always did.

Sam questioned Steve loudly, causing Florence to flinch as she fell back down to reality, “How is that even possible, that was 70 years ago.” Florence felt bad for Sam, he just jumped headfirst into a dark world with more questions than answers. 

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. Florence, how are you even alive? Zola didn’t get to you before the fall?” Steve just asked the golden question.

Florence took a deep breath in, “I don’t know. There are gaps in time, I don’t remember much from it. They all said that the fall should have killed me but it didn’t. Then I became a lab rat. The end.”

Steve looked her directly in the eye for the first time the entire day, “They must have found him and…”

Natasha interrupted him, she knew where this conversation could lead, “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

Florence shifted slightly, sharing a look with Natasha, silently thanking her for diverting the conversation. 

Sam shifted beside her as another wave of blood oozed out from her shoulder, he turned to the guards, "We need to get a doctor here. If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck." Florence appreciated Sam’s protective and caring nature as Steve continued glaring daggers her way. Florence knew Steve wouldn’t understand her reasoning, too set in his ways of complete honesty all of the time. He didn’t understand what it meant to lie to keep those you loved safe.

The nearest guard flinched forward, flashing the taser at Sam before turning the taser on the second guard and kicking him unconscious. The guard pulled the helmet off of themselves, revealing Maria Hill, “God, that thing was squeezing my brain.” She motioned at Sam, “Who is this guy?” Everyone shared a collective sigh of relief at the sight of Maria. 

After ditching the car, the team arrived at an undisclosed location. The doors of the truck opened, allowing sunlight to flood in. Steve helped Florence down from the truck, supporting her weight with ease. Blood continued to trickle from her shoulder as she leaned against him for support as Steve spoke while he half carried her forward into the building, “I’m not mad. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

Florence laughed slightly, her body weak, “Are you just saying that because I got shot and I’m currently bleeding out all over you?”

Steve scoffed, his body vibrating with the action, arm tightening around her, “No, Flo.”

Behind her and Steve, Sam called out for a doctor. People ran towards them from the opposite end of the hall, Maria Hill speaking over the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, "Natasha, there's something you're going to wanna see. Steve, get Florence patched up."

The group broke apart for a short period of time, Natasha reappearing with a hopeful expression on her face as Florence grimaced in pain next to the doctor stitching her up, "Fury is alive."

All eyes remained on Natasha as she explained how Fury was alive, a medication Bruce Banner had come up with did the trick to fake his death. Florence looked to Sam as he digested this information, he didn’t know what he got himself into. She could feel Steve's eyes boring into her head, but she didn't dare look. Her mind was a constant loop of Bucky. 

Flashback: 

His calloused hand led her through the crowd of people, Steve trailing far behind. The trio had just gotten finished dancing and now they were wandering aimlessly through the busy streets of Queens. The air was brisk as it blew through Florence’s auburn hair, her dress fluttering around her calves. Bucky stopped in front of a movie theater, the lights casting a warm glow over his face as he turned to face the girl. Her cheeks were blushed pink from the chill of the air and a smile had been permanently etched on her face all night.

 The news that Bucky was being shipped off in the morning loomed over them like a rain cloud but Bucky was determined to keep her smiling; at least until the morning. His hand abandoned hers, reaching down to fish in his pocket. He found what he was looking for quickly, the velvet box small in his hand. Florence gasped at soon as the box came into the light, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew what this was, she accidentally stumbled upon it when she was putting away clothes last week. A small emerald ring.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, flipping the box open, “Flo, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’re my best girl, always there keeping me in line. I love you more than words can say. I know I leave tomorrow and I should have done this years ago, but will you make me that luckiest man on earth and marry me?”

Florence flew into Bucky’s arms in a flurry of kisses and agreements, Bucky lifting her up and twirling her. He gently set her back on the ground, slipping the ring on her finger as she giggled. Bucky met her eyes, tears glimmering in them, “I promise you, when I get back you and I will get married, we’ll buy a house and we’ll make it a happy home; kids, dogs, a garden, all of it. I promise you.” By the end of Bucky’s promise, both he and Florence were crying in each other’s arms, each one clutching the other tightly, both hyper-aware that the future wasn’t promised. 

Steve stumbled his way through the large crowd, catching sight of his two best friends hugging each other. He didn’t have the heart to break them up at the moment, so he watched on with a smile. It would all be okay.

Bucky sat in the test chair underneath the bank piecing the remnants of his memories together. He knew them. The man knew his name, or at least what he thought was his name. And he knew the girl he shot, memories of her smiling flickered through his mind. Yet they were complete strangers, their faces foreign yet home all at the same time. 

Alexander Pierce was terrified of this day, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He knew of the attachment Bucky had to the Winter Widow, ever since she disappeared in ‘91, the soldier was harder to control, more agitated and violent. He screamed her name in his sleep and when they wiped him he was always mumbling about her when he became coherent. They tried to program it out of him, and when that didn’t work, they tried to beat it out of him, hoping she would vanish from his memories the way his blood washed down the drain. Nothing ever worked. The Winter Soldier was irrevocably in love with Florence Morozov and Alexander was going to use that against him.

The Winter Soldier’s mission was to kill Steve Rogers and Florence Morozov.

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED. IF YOU ENJOYED, PLEASE REBLOG.

[sokkas-honour]

#17 for the spotify wrapped with zuko! <3

prom queen - zuko x reader

pairing: zuko x fem!reader

wc: 1k (it’s a short one, i didn’t feel like exploring this song too much as i associate it with a certain sort of my life. i also didn’t put too much effort into tbh, again for the same reason)

warning: if you’re sensitive to body image talk, possible diet talk, possible starvation mention, please don’t go any further. i tried to keep it as light as possible but i did project onto it a bit.

notes: i cherry picked lyrics that work best for this, and the least triggering ones. its kinda of a part two to detention as requested by @aangsupremacy (hopefully this works for you), just not a direct one.

wish i was like you, blue-eyed blondie, perfect body,

she was everything you could never be. with beautiful long black hair and an elegance that you only wish you could have. but most of all, she had the firelord’s attention, she had his heart. she had his attention ever since they were children and it was foolish of you to ever imagine things going differently.

it was foolish of you to think he’d even fall for you, the waterbender who’d been tasked to be his bodyguard ever since you two were children. it was foolish of you to think that, even though you two had been through so much together, you still would never even cross his mind as anything more than a simple friend.

all the nights you two spent on that boat, giving him a space to talk when he needed it. you had always been there for him, you were with him every step of the way from the agni kai to ba sing se, to joining the avatar and defeating ozai. you two had grown close during that time and you genuinely thought that something was happening between the two of you, but you couldn’t be further from the truth. you had forgotten that the affection that zuko felt towards mai transcended any relationship that you had built up with him. spirits did you wish you were her.

maybe I should try harder, you should lower your beauty standards,

you remembered the comments you used to get while on the boat, your body constantly being picked apart by middle aged men who didn’t have any better to do then to bodyshame a teenager. being away from the crew, a weight had been lifters off your shoulders when you found a group of friends that never said anything about your appearance nor found anything wrong with it.

you should’ve realised that when you agreed to join zuko as his advisor that the picking apart would get worse. his cabinet was still very closed minded and judgemental, none of them liked the idea of a waterbender from a watertribe to be the one advising the leader of the firenation, none of them seemed to remember that your whole childhood was spent in between these walls.

most of the time, words were never said directly to you but usually were whispers strategically placed to make sure you heard what they all thought about you. it hurt a lot but you were able to push down all of your emotions until one day, when someone who used to be a part of zuko’s crew, came to help him around the place. the crew had caught on that despite how much he aggravated you, you had a thing for zuko, so he of course made fun of you for it in front of the firelord’s officers who knew of his current relationship status. and that’s when things started to go down hill.

“i’m going to find the firelord and see what he thinks about it.” it all started when you were having a meeting with some of his esteemed generals and admirals, he was absent so you took his place which meant that some people thought it was fun to try and take advantage of your lack of authority. the only way to settle the current argument was to grab the firelord himself and drag zuko into the mess that only he could clean.

“wouldn’t want to do that, his girlfriend might think you’d want to steal him.” a misplaced teasing rang from general tao, one who seemed to always be against you.

“please, mai would take one look at her and not even think that she’d pose a threat. i mean have you seen her body?” another voice inserted himself into the conversation and you started to feel like you’d wish that you could just evaporate into thin air.

“not to mention that marrying someone from the watertribe would be absolutely dishonourable.” general sho added, a smirk on his face as he knew that all of their comments were affecting you. sho was definitely someone who liked to pretend that he didn’t miss ozai, just like half of the people in the room that laughed at the jokes.

“meeting adjourned.” you exclaimed, not wanting to even deal with them any longer and just go to your room and cry about what had happened. you were the first to stand up and go to the leave the room but right as you were about to leave, you heard one more comment.

“go cry about it, maybe you can waterbend it or, even better, loose a little.” it was the last straw and you felt your eyes prick with tears but you couldn’t show total weakness so you held your composure and scurried to your room, making sure to avoid absolutely anyone.

im no quick-curl barbie, i was never cut out for prom queen,

when you closed the door to your chamber, you threw yourself on your bed and just cried, letting all the words that everyone had ever said get to you. you knew that you weren’t ever going to make a good ruler, which is probably for the best that mai is a good contender for the position seeing as she and zuko are madly in love.

but spirits did you wish you were. you weren’t the regal type, you weren’t elegant, you weren’t raised as someone important, you were raised as a bodyguard who’s entire worth was based on wether or not you could protect the future firelord. not matter how much you tried to get over him, you couldn’t. your entire self worth had been based around him since a young age so of course it continued into your early adult years. your whole life had been intertwined with zuko and your destinies, at least that’s what you thought, were always going to be shared in a way.

maybe that’s why you tried your hardest to always be nice to him, be there for him, be a friend for him even when he didn’t want one. sometimes you wondered if you actually did love him or if it was just that if he did love you, you would actually feel like you had a place. you’d always conclude that it was the first, just seeing him happy and smile made your heart race as a fast as a rollercoaster. no one else had ever done that to you.

you remembered the one time you had ever lashed out at zuko. you were grieving and he was being selfish. you had always given him the space to talk about his feelings so you expected the same, only, it took you ignoring him for a couple of days for him to finally understand that friendship was a two way street, even when he was banished.

after that, zuko always listened to you when you needed it and spirits did you wish he was there now. you don’t exactly know what you’d tell him but in right now, you craved him just rubbing your back soothingly and letting you air out what was on your mind. those moments weren’t too common but they were precious.

you were ready to just recompose yourself in your room alone but you jumped a bit when you heard someone knock at the door.

“shit.” you mumbled, quickly trying to find somewhere to look at your reflection to wipe the tears and boy was that going to be a problem. your eyes were red, cheeks were puffy and heavily tear stained, and your hair was disheveled from gripping it as you sobbed.

there was nothing you could do but pray that whoever was behind that door was just a guard coming by to tell you something, they never commented on your current appearance as they were used to seeing the firelord in unpleasant circumstances.

you took a deep breath in and went to open the door. you felt your heart stop when you saw your best friend with a huge smile on his face.

“hey y/n, i-" zuko started off his greeting with the cheeriest voice you’d ever heard from him but the tone quickly switched once he registered that you had been crying. “are you okay?”

“yeah zuko, i’m fine.” you lied, fully aware that he could see that you weren’t and the lie was useless, but you couldn’t talk about what was going on with zuko.

“y/n i know you’re lying, you’re my best friend. and you look like you’ve just been crying.” zuko placed his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb gently from side to side. you sighed and leaned into it, savouring the affectionate moment.

“it’s fine, it’s nothing important.” you mumbled after a couple of seconds were spent in silence, not knowing if this was the time to tell him about the treatment that you’d received from his generals and the love that you had for him.

“you know you can tell me anything, right y/n? i learned that a while ago thanks to you. i come to you for help and advice, and vice versa.” he insisted, removing his hand, much to your dismay. his eyes filled with concern as he wasn’t going to just dismiss your feelings like the last time he’d found you crying.

“i don’t want to talk about it right now, maybe at another time.” you compromised, figuring that in a day or so you could finally come forward about it without breaking down.

“deal.” he smiled, glad that you had accepted his help.

“but you had news to tell me, so don’t let the way i look keep you from telling me.” you returned his smile, changing your tone to one of intrigue at the wonder of what got your friend so excited.

“mai said yes to the trip!” he announced giddily.

“the trip to?” you asked confused, if he had discussed this trip with you, you had completely forgotten.

“the trip where i plan to propose to her! i’m pretty sure i told you about this the other week.” he clarified, slightly confused as to why you didn’t remember as in his memory, he had talked it out with you a couple of weeks prior.

“oh yeah, that trip.” you felt your heart drop, you completely forgot about that, it was the last hope of zuko ever loving you as more than a friend, it was already small to begin with but now it was nonexistent. she would say yes and you’d have to live with the knowledge that you never said anything to him, you’d have to live with and help the new firelady, you’d have to see them rule the nation as you’d just think about your unrequited love.

“we leave the day after tomorrow, do you think she’ll say yes?” the firelord was nervous about a girl, your heart broke a bit knowing that you never had that affect on him but it was to her fault for keeping your feelings to yourself.

“of course she will zuko. the two of you are perfect for each other. you’re handsome, a great friend, you’re always there for your friends, you always want what’s best for everyone, and youre a great ruler. and mai, mai’s just drop dead gorgeous.” you rambled, not realizing that you might have raised his suspicions at your listing of his qualities but all it did was make him more confident, he must’ve only seen your small confession as a planotic one.

“thank you y/n. and when i get back, i’ll find someone for you so we can have double dates!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“yeah zuko, that’d be great.” if only he knew that the only person for you was him. you only gave him a half smile before he turned around to do whatever, leaving you alone in your room with something more to cry about.

if im pretty, will you like me? they say "beauty makes boys happy"

a little while after he left, you went out of your room to go clear your mind next to one of the turtle duck ponds. as you sat down to watch the adorable animals, you saw mai pass down the hallway that opened to the courtyard. she spotted you and waved, not bothering to stop as she probably had somewhere to be. you waved back but it made you realise something.

as you looked at your reflection, you thought of how beautiful mai was and how average you were. you’d never compare to her beauty, meaning zuko would never look at you and think ‘woah’. maybe no one would ever see you as the most gorgeous person in the four nations, all you’d be was someone who let the love of their life live with his life without knowing about your feelings.

maybe it was time to move out of the firepalace, the guards didn’t seem to like you and the comments started to get too much to hide the way it hurt you. you wouldn’t have to watch zuko and mai act all lovey dovey. youd finally move on from your life where your whole worth was based around the banished prince turned firelord. maybe you’d find love with someone who saw you as their whole world just like zuko did with mai.

maybe your life would be better.

atla taglist: @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis @firelady-jay

zuko taglist: @duh-dobrik

[ash-flame101]

Luke x Ashley Imagine| Sunset Curve

NEED TO KNOW: Ashley and Luke are best friends and are the two lead singers in Sunset Curve. (Bobby is not included in Sunset Curve this time.) It is 2020 and this time around Luke, Reggie and Alex never die. Ashley is also Alex’s younger sister by a year and they live in the house where Julies lived. They are still 17 so they were born in 2003 with Ashley in 2004. 

It’s been 8 years since we played at the Orpheum and Sunset Curve became huge. Tonight we had just finished our last performance of this tour and we had decided to go to a club and celebrate. 

We walked into the club with our fake ID’s and I instantly ordered a dozen shots for the group. Three each to start off with. Alex and Reggie winced as the alcohol burned their throats. Me and Luke chuckled as we downed our shots easily. “I’m hitting the dance floor” Reggie said and walked off. Luke smiled. “I’m joining him” Luke stated and he too sauntered off into the midst of the crowd. 

“You killed it on the drums tonight, big bro” I said and playfully punched Alex’s shoulder. He grinned. “Your duet with Luke was amazing, when will you admit that you’ve fallen head over heels for him, everyone can see the chemistry when you guys sing” Alex smirked. I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know what you mean” I replied as I downed another shot. “You know exactly what I mean little sis, you just won’t admit it too me ‘cause I’m your big brother and it’s just weird to talk to your brother about guys” Alex said in a high pitched girly voice. “Weirdo” I mumbled. “You love me” Alex said and elbowed me gently. I broke into smile. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

My conversation with Alex was interrupted when Reggie walked over. “Holy, shit, Luke is way too good at dancing, I couldn’t keep up with him” Reggie complained. I burst into laughter but it was cut short when I caught Luke. He was dancing extremely close to another girl. The girl then started grinding against Luke’s body and tears filled my eyes. “Ashley, what’s wrong?” Reggie and Alex asked at the same time. I took a deep breath and shook my head. “Nothing” I choked out and ran out of the club and onto the street. I didn’t want to see what was going on inside of the club anymore. I called for a Taxi to drive me to the apartment we were staying in. 

**Time Skip**

I unlocked the door to our apartment and walked in, flicking the lights on. The rest of the boys probably wouldn’t be home till like 2am and it was only 11pm. I closed the door behind me and slumped against it, tears pouring out of my eyes. Alex was right, I was crushing on Luke, maybe I had even fallen in love with him and now I was too late. Getting back up on my feet, I went into my room and started quietly singing Always Remember Us This Way from A Star Is Born. Deciding to go to bed, I changed into one of Alex’s shirts and pulled on a pair of sweatpants before climbing into bed and falling into a dreamless sleep. 

**Next Morning**

I woke up with a tiny headache and reached for the glass of water on my bedside table and downed it. Getting out of bed I checked the time and saw it was 10am. I pulled my hair into a messy bun then walked out into the kitchen to grab some food. There was nothing I wanted except for ice cream so I pulled out the tub and grabbed a spoon and dug into it. Moments later my phone started going off and I unlocked it to see heaps of notifications about articles. Confused as heel, I tapped one of the articles and started to read. It was a theory of Luke getting together with someone and there was a photo of Luke and the girl dancing. Sighing, I closed my phone and kept eating the ice cream. “Hey, how you doing, Ashley?” Reggie asked as he came out of his room. I smiled sadly. “Been better, Reg.” Reggie walked over. “Jesus Ashley, you look like shit” he said loudly. He was right though. My eyes were puffy and red with bags underneath them. I was a huge mess. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in, I know” I said sarcastically. “Sorry” he mumbled. “It’s all good Reg” I replied. “Get a spoon and have some of this ice cream, it’s yum as” I told him. 

Half an hour later Alex had joined me and Reggie and now we were all sitting on the couch watching one of the performances from our tour. I still looked like shit as I hadn’t been bothered to have a shower or anything yet. Luke was still in bed anyway. As we kept watching the performance, it had come up to the song that me and Luke had written together for a duet, while Alex and Reg backed it up. I smiled softly at the memory. Me and Luke had almost kissed that night too. As that thought came into my head, my eyes started tearing up. “Maybe, we should turn it off” Alex suggested and turned it off. I wiped the tears from my eyes just as Luke walked out of his room. I gulped as we made eye contact. Luke was also a mess, he had obviously been crying for some reason. His eyes were red and really puffy, his face was really pale and his hair was all over the place. “I’m sorry guys, I whispered and ran into my room and locked it behind me. I needed to get out of here. I pulled on some black jeans, combat boots, a flannel shirt and I tied it at my waist. Washing my face and tying my hair, I realized that this was all I needed. To get dressed and go out. I clipped my chains onto my jeans and clipped my wallet and keys to it too then shoved my phone in my pocket. 

I walked out of my room and out the door, once again glancing at Luke who had taken my seat on the couch and had his head in his hands, I heard a few sniffles and my heart broke. “I screwed everything up” Luke mumbled. Alex looked up and he saw me. Tears filled my eyes again. “I can’t” I mouthed then walked out the door, it closed loudly behind me which made Luke look up and he saw me. As we caught each other’s eye, I could see even more tears well in his eyes and it felt like I could see his heart break. I couldn’t handle it though. Even though we weren’t together it still hurt like hell, but he admitted he was attached to me in a way he couldn’t explain but it was obviously a lie. 

Walking out in the street I saw a sign up. I realized it was a photo of me and Luke at the beach. It had been for a photoshoot of the whole band then it ended up turning into a photo of just me and Luke. I smiled sadly at the memory. I kept walking down the streets and I decided to walk too the beach where the photo was taken. 

I got to the beach and I sat down on the sand. “God Luke, why did I have to fall in love with you” I spoke aloud as a single tear rolled down my cheek. Suddenly, a person sat next to me and I turned to see the person’s face and it was one I could never forget. Luke. “Ashley, I am so, sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just, it’s just, I don’t even know. I know I told you I was attached to you in a way that I couldn’t explain and it’s true but I don’t know what happened last night. That girl was just there and there’s no excuse for it. I hurt you so badly and I hate myself for it. It hurts me that I hurt the one girl I love. Ashley, I’m super, super sorry, if you can’t forgive me, I understand but I will do anything to make it up too you” Luke rambled on as tear fell from his eyes. Looking at the boy in front of me, I could see the guilt was killing him inside. “Luke, I-I don’t know what to say. I think I forgive you but it hurt what you did. I know we’re not together or anything but you made me feel alive when you told me you were attached to me” I mumbled. Luke slowly reached for my hand and I let him take it. “I am sorry, I know I can’t undo it, but I promise to never hurt you again, ever!” Luke admitted. Smiling softly, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear then stood up, bring Luke with me. “I forgive you Luke.”

Luke gave me one of his beautiful smiles that I had missed so much. “Did you say you that you love me Luke?” I questioned. Luke looked me dead in the eye. “I love you so much Ashley, I always have but I’ve been too afraid to admit it and I was afraid what Alex would do if he knew I loved it his little sister. But, it was him that told me I should make it up to you and that I would find you here. But to answer your question. I love you so much more than words can explain” Luke admitted. My heart swelled in my chest. “I love you too Luke, so, so much.”

Luke smiled again. Slowly, he pulled me closer to him and put one hand around my waist and one hand was on the side of my face. I closed my eyes as we both slowly leant closer and closer. Within his lips were pressed against mine and my hand had snaked around his shoulders. I leant in more to deepen the kiss and I could feel a smile etch itself onto my face. Luke broke the kiss and looked me in my eyes. “Can I ask you something?” I raised an eyebrow. “Always, you know you can” I told him. “Will you be my girlfriend, officially?” Luke asked. Happy tears filled my eyes. “Yes, Luke, of course” I said happily as I pulled him in for a tight hug. “I’m sorry it took me so long to ask” Luke said sheepishly. I smiled. “I would’ve waited the world for you” I replied. 

Luke brought me in closer to to him and our lips melted together again. “You are my world, Ashley” Luke mumbled. 

[kirstinmaldonado]

CHAPTER TEN 2.0

I had a horrible migraine Monday night. It was one of those that you feel after holding back tears all day, or letting it out all day, it was centered right in-between the eyes on the upper bridge of my nose. My eyes sweltered under discomfort. The icepacks or a cool touch to the head, something my mom would always do (she always has cold hands), couldn’t even console me. I didn’t feel feverish at all, but the pain was sharp and pulsating like a nervous heartbeat, over and over, until I couldn’t concentrate on TV or anything anymore I just had to go to bed and hope I could fall asleep. 

I rarely get those kinds of headaches, that placement and severity. I’m usually fortunate to pass with dull, achey, temple headaches; and even my hangovers are never so pointed and jab-like.

My mom on the other hand, has dealt with migraines for years. I remember her pain as a kid, waking up in the morning wondering where she was, only to find her in the dark in her room, barely able to speak sometimes. I was always so sad to see her in such anguish, all alone in the dark. Silent. Still. While her head throbbed as if a brass band was playing “The Music Man” at too loud a decibel.

We watched a lot of horror films, my mom and I. In contrast to all the Disney films, I grew up on Jeepers Creepers, Scream, Final Destination and all the Freddy, Jason, true horror classics (yes, and all seven billion of their sequels). When she would be in bed, in the dark, we’d joke that she was a vampire needing her rest and that she needed to stay in the dark unbothered, and that lightheartedness to the situation made us smile and contented us.

Monday, Ben asked if migraines ran in my family, and though I told him about my mother’s constant battle with them the last couple years I was hoping mine felt more situational as opposed to genetic. Fingers crossed on that, and kudos to mom and those who get migraines for sticking it out cause they can be a big B-I-T-C-H.

I say situational, because it’s been A WEEK to say the least, with big things and confrontations happening in the public eye and in my own private life. The last two weeks have been incredibly eye-opening, painful, uncomfortable, moving, you name it. An entire rainbow of emotions (Happy Pride, by the way, cuties, I haven’t forgotten about you all).

I feel as if I’ve transformed into a new person with big, wide, new eyes, shedding some old skin that felt a little naive and a little out of touch with how the world, not should work, but how it’s REALLY been working. I’ve been talking to my black friends and fans, talking to my Hispanic family and hearing their stories, and talking amongst my friends and respected mentors. I’ve been doing some soul-searching and digging through memories of my own cop experiences (one, for example, at 17 with two white males [we were pulled over and eventually surrounded by 4 armed cop cars that got us out of the car, surrounded us, and wouldn’t tell us why] and wondering but knowing how that situation could have been if they were black), my jokes of being white-washed or assimilating in to white culture and not focusing on my own, and me coloring my hair blonde and wearing colored contacts not MY brown eyes for so much of my life and wondering what the intention of it all was for. Was it genuine or was I doing it to fit in, did I think it made me prettier, or more likable? Did I think or know that it would get me roles, because many ingenues or leading ladies at the time didn’t look like me?

At a point, at multiple points, all the things I’d uncover or watch in recent news had my stomach hard and in knots. Every new clip made me feel like I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t stop now that I had SEEN.

I was confused. Hurt. Believing what I’d seen, but needing other facts as if I was missing something completely because it all did not make sense to me. How COULD it?

I apologize for all the reposts and rants, but I hope it’s stayed in line with being something you should SEE, regardless of if its uncomfortable or not, so that you KNOW what is happening, while also trying to call action to addressing the issue but moving FORWARD towards a solution. I don’t want violence on my page. But now it’s hard to turn a blind eye.

The organized BLM LA protest on May 30th changed my life. After the speeches, we wanted to continue marching, moving, using our freedom of speech and combining our white, brown, black, and all colors in-between of voices so that we could be ONE VOICE UNITED to be HEARD. 

I don’t think I went to the front lines because I was white-passing and felt safer, or because I was a woman so could be “less a threat.” I went because my black allies, who I didn’t even know, asked us to because the front was starting to get unnecessarily violent. I went because I had done nothing wrong and planned on doing nothing wrong. I went, in a way, to be an innocent. Because if I was in the front with no bad intention, the people beside and behind me would be okay.

As we walked through the crowds, their hands on my shoulders, their thanks, flared something visceral deep inside of me and I knew I was here to protect and mediate, and in a way, fighting against hate in whatever form as if I was a newborn Avenger. Someone cried out “I love this, this is what this movement is for!” and that has stayed with me as so many lighter-skinned protesters made their way to the front. Because that IS what this is for. Not to divide, but to unite to fight for justice against those that have unnecessarily been wronged.

I’ll never forget one black man that my friends and I urged to stay back beside us in the lines that had pushed to the front. He was angry. Upset. Hurt. Defiled. I’d never understood the pain the black community felt. But as we tried to reassure him, block him from the batons (from THAT COP), bring him back to the safety of the group, when I was hit in the ribs and the face as collateral because he would have been hit so much worse, the last thing he said as we pulled him back was “I want them to hear me.” And suddenly I felt holding him and consoling him was wrong, like I was a part of stealing his voice from him even though all I wanted was to keep him safe. Suddenly I felt so upset, so angry; although, of course, I’ll never even know HALF of that feeling as a non-black person who, to my knowledge, has never been treated differently for their identity.

I’ll never forget the way he said it. With so much hurt and pain, the anger fading in to just pure anguish and loss.

I felt like I’d silenced someone, so all I could do was get back to the front. It was my turn to be silent and let their voices carry behind me.

I’m sure you’ve seen the video going around, the stillness before the cops were ordered presumably to push the line back. While I can have a whole blog post of levels and steps they could have taken before the cop bashed through my canvas sign with his baton, you can look at the video and see for yourself. People getting hit because they were at the front, with no provocation. The man striking me with a baton, honestly probably because I had said openly to watch out for him, because he was showing a LOT of premature violence, because of how quickly he went after the man we were protecting; yet then only pushing the white girl next to me with his hand, even though she unfortunately was struck multiple times from another officer.

All awful!! All taken a step too far. I’ve never been more in shock. Ben was trying to pull me off the floor so I wouldn’t get stepped on. Our friends were hit by rubber bullets. Our other friends on another street running from tear gas.

The tear gas, the rubber bullets, the bruises and the ache have *I PRAY* started to leave Los Angeles as all the protests have started to become more peaceful and more organized. Since, I’ve been to three and they were all just, beautiful, and moving, each one getting better and bigger as the week went on. I carry a sense of pride and love seeing the aerial footage of all the people Sunday, and I think back to what my May 30 experience was compared to June 7th. I heard it was the largest protest yet. And while I felt like a sardine in a can, it was so packed, it was beautiful and it’s a memory I’ll hold forever!

I sidebar to say, I may no longer be cheering at the literal protesting frontlines with you for a while  — I must return to Texas soon for family so must safely quarantine  —  but know the fight for equality, for justice has not ended just because it’s not trending anymore! I think I’m gonna have to shackle myself to my house so I won’t leave, haha, but know there is so much you can be doing from your home! As my grandma said, after the protests which are the catalysts and the calls for change the REAL reformative work begins!! And the road is long! 

The most important thing, in my humble opinion, is to show up. To not be afraid. To ask the questions. To educate yourself through your friends with their experiences or through history.

Humbly, you must think, but what even can I do to help?

Showing up isn’t JUST protesting. It’s signing petitions. Donating to charities. It’s calling local reps. It’s doing the research and thinking, what can I do to lend my voice to help create a better world for all and doing it authentically if even imperfectly because deep down you also want to right these injustices and demand change! Do it in public. Do it in private. But do it because you believe in it!

I know everything feels a bit dark and overwhelming right now! The amount of times I’ve needed a “break” and then wanted to cry because my black friends and fans don’t get the opportunity to take “breaks” is countless. But your mental health is important for you to be the strongest ally you can be!

And if you’re afraid of backlash, understand that many are hurt. I know many feel nervous to speak up in a damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of way. But EACH of your voices are, and have always been so, so important. And each and every one of you have an important say and CHOICE/VOTE in to where we lead our country!

Someone told me this week that although sunflowers follow the sun, when it is cloudy and dark, they turn to face each other and share their energy!

I don’t know if that’s a million percent scientifically accurate, but the sentiment brought me to tears. In times of darkness, we should all be able to lean on each other for support.

We can all be sunflowers in the dark. <3

Love you all.

[let-me-write-shit]

Like We Used To: 17

A/N: *WARNING* Smut smut smut!!!! I’ll put ******* at the beginning and end of the smut, so you can skip if you’d like.

Let me know what you think and what you’d like to see in future chapters :)

[Click Here For Previous Chapters]

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Where the hell are you taking us, Lizzy?” 

Elizabeth giggled, skipping down the streets of LA with Harry smiling in tow. Even on a Monday night there were a decent amount of people out, but everyone was too into themselves to pay much attention to a passerby. There were the occasional head turns, but nothing long-lasting. She had stopped in front of an ice cream parlor, grinning like a child and bouncing on her toes. 

“Is this our next stop?” Harry questioned, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

“First of all, put that away, it’s my turn now” Elizabeth said, pushing his hand with his wallet down, “And yes, I want a milkshake. So move it or lose it.”

He laughed, “Alright, yeah, a swirl cone sounds pretty good,” pulling the door open for her and watched as she skipped to the back of the line. 

There were a half dozen customers inside and it seemed like within seconds they realized Harry Styles was in the same building as them because what at first seemed like just innocent glances at the two of them turned into people practically surrounding him. She suddenly started feeling a bit unnerved. How could she have forgotten so easily that they can’t just go into an ice cream parlor? What if there were pictures? What if the press had found out they were on a date? That after days of him adamantly denying that he had no romantic interest in ‘the woman in the pictures’, there could now be picture or video proof of his deceits. What would that mean for her job? She had heard horror stories before of people getting into relationships with celebrities and fans finding out where they worked, harassing the company and making them lose their jobs. Could that happen to her?

Elizabeth slipped away from the crowd. Now that the line was no longer interested in ordering their ice cream, the counter was free. She stepped up to the worker and smiled nicely, “Hi, can I please have a medium chocolate milkshake, and a medium chocolate and vanilla swirl on a cone?”

“Of course, is that all?” The teenage girl asked, glancing between her and the crowd surrounding Harry.

“Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth handed her some cash and waited at the end of the counter for their ice cream, arms crossed tightly into her chest nervously watching as Harry did his best to say hi to everyone and take pictures. He heard a few of the girls mention her and ask who she was, but he did his best to avoid the question. Elizabeth decided at that moment that she was going to stop being so damn scared of consequences. She is a 26 year old woman with a fantastic job, in an entirely different country, who just got out of a toxic three year relationship and was able to afford to move out by herself into a comfortable house, on a date with someone she’s known practically her whole life. If he wasn’t overly concerned with them being photographed, she wasn’t going to, either. Judy was right, she needed to learn how to live a little.

The worker had handed her the ice creams and Elizabeth waved at Harry to get his attention. He quickly and politely excused himself from the group before shuffling over to Elizabeth, grabbing his cone and following her out the door. Luckily no one had followed him out of the ice cream parlor.

“In hindsight, that wasn’t my best idea,” Elizabeth sipped her milkshake as they continued down the street.

Harry laughed, licking up the side of his ice cream cone, “Not the most subtle part of our date, no. Anything else you have planned?” Elizabeth stopped walking and grinned between Harry and the storefront next to her, seeing the realization form in Harry’s eyes. “You’re kidding,” he smirked.

“I’m not.”

“Are you getting one?”

“We’re both getting one! That’s the point!” Elizabeth laughed.

Harry stared between her and the tattoo shop before shaking his head with a look of astonishment, “This will be your first tattoo.”

“This is a week of firsts for me. Why not keep it going?”

Harry looked at her in amazement before taking her hand and leading her inside. Again, there weren’t too many people inside. It was near 9 PM at this point and there was only one client with a friend getting tattooed at the moment, with a few artists sitting around with their friends. Music was playing loudly and unflattering fluorescent lights illuminated the walls of sample tattoos. Harry walked up to the counter to introduce himself and a moment of realization flashed across the guys’ face, shaking Harry’s hand excitedly. Harry introduced Elizabeth and they were led back to a private room by two of the artists, walls lined with more artwork and a cabinet and cart filled with tools and equipment.

“Alright, so who wants to go first?” A larger man spoke, bold tattoos covering every inch of his body up to his neck and a few on his temples. 

Harry was about to speak when Elizabeth sat up straighter, “I do.”

Harry looked at her in shock while Elizabeth explained what tattoo she wanted. Since it was her first tattoo she didn’t want to go too crazy, she just wanted a dainty flower tattoo right behind her ear. The artist continued to sketch up an idea on an iPad and showed it to her. Once he got the dimensions right he had it printed on transfer paper and stamped it behind her ear, showing her the placement of the tattoo for her approval. 

Since it was such a small tattoo the artist explained that it would probably take about fifteen minutes to complete, but he’d start off slowly so she got an idea of what it would feel like. Elizabeth took a deep breath, staying as still as she could and Harry offered his hand, letting her squeeze it as hard as she could while the artist rested his arm on her shoulder and pressed the tattoo gun to her skin. The buzzing noise felt like it rang deep within her ear and she loosened her grip on Harry’s hand a bit, only noticing the pain wasn’t as bad as she thought it’d be. It felt more like someone scratching a sunburn with a pencil really hard; uncomfortable but manageable. 

“You alright?” both Harry and the artist asked.

“Yeah, it’s not terrible,” she said, super focused on not making any sudden movements. 

Harry watched her with a smile before bending down and grabbing her milkshake, bringing the straw up to her lips. She grinned and took a few sips before pushing the straw out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he set her milkshake back down and rested his hand atop hers. 

“So what made you all come in here?” The lankier artist who stood behind the table asked.

“She did,” Harry nodded towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth explained how she hadn’t done any research on tattoo places in the area, that this was just the first one they stumbled across. Everyone seemed to get a kick out of it and they all began casually talking while Harry finished up his ice cream cone. Fifteen minutes had passed before her tattoo was done. He wiped it down with a bit of water and had her hold a mirror in front of another to see. It was perfect, with the thinnest lines and amazing attention to detail in the tiny flower petals. 

“It’s beautiful! Thank you so much!” Elizabeth turned to hug the man.

He was taken aback, but laughed and gave her a little squeeze back before letting go. Harry was up next, explaining that he wanted to get a small biplane tattoo on his side. Elizabeth interjected, telling him to get it above chest level, suggesting his collarbone.

“Trust me,” she said.

Harry shrugged, agreeing to get it on his left collarbone. The two artists switched places and the lankier one would be tattooing Harry. Again, he sketched up the drawing and placed the transfer paper onto Harry’s skin, quickly getting approval and starting up the tattoo gun. Elizabeth did most of the talking, asking the artists how long they’ve been doing this and what their favorite tattoo they ever did was. The conversation slowly turned into crazy stories of things they had witnessed in the shop; a full on brawl between a husband and wife because he had misspelled her name, and a ton of fainting stories. She even got the artists to open up about their home lives and families, touched by the dedication the bigger man that did her tattoo, she got to know as Frank, had towards his wife, Leah, who had recently been diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer and was currently undergoing treatment. Eventually they began talking about how Elizabeth always wished that she was creative enough to be able to tattoo, to which Harry proposed that she try to tattoo him.

“You’re out of your mind! My shitty tattoo will be on you forever!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Yeah, along with the rest of them. Come on! If it’s that bad I can just get it covered up.”

Elizabeth looked at him incredulously as both of the artists had assured her that she could do something small and they would talk her through it. Harry’s tattoo took about twenty minutes before it was completed and wiped down. He was given a mirror to look at it and shook his artist, Derek’s, hand, thanking him before wrapping Harry up and motioning for Elizabeth to come over. 

Derek messed with the tattoo gun and passed it to her, showing her how to hold it. He had taken the needles and ink out so that she could practice on Frank’s arm and figure out how much pressure she needed to apply and how slowly she needed to go before she felt confident enough to tattoo Harry.

“What do you want me to tattoo on you?” Elizabeth asked.

“Whatever you want,” Harry beamed at her before biting his lip, amused.

Elizabeth thought for a moment, looking at the tiny space on his arm right below his shoulder before settling on an idea and pressing the needle to his skin. She felt his eyes on her as she focused hard on staying steady.

“Don’t mess up now,” Harry teased.

“Shut up, or I will,” Elizabeth whispered, pursing her lips in concentration.

Elizabeth straightened up once she was satisfied with what she had done, turning to hand the tool back to Frank, who had looked at the tattoo and roughly wiped his face, holding his chin in his hand before turning to Elizabeth and giving her another hug. Derek had wiped the excess ink off of Harry and handed him a mirror to see that Elizabeth had drawn a very thin outline of the breast cancer ribbon with an L initial underneath it for Leah. 

“Wow,” Harry nodded, smiling towards Elizabeth and Frank, “I couldn’t have picked a better tattoo, and it’s surprisingly well done for your first time. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Frank nodded. 

For some reason, seeing a huge, muscular, tattooed man get teary-eyed always seemed to hit differently. But when you add in the personal struggle that he and his wife were going through, it was hard not to get emotional. A tear slid down Elizabeth’s cheek and she quickly wiped it away, giving Frank one more friendly hug.

“Do you mind if we get a picture for our wall?” Derek asked

“Sure, man, of course,” Harry agreed.

Derek took up close pictures of both hers and Harry’s tattoos. Harry pulled his shirt back on to take a picture of him standing with both of the artists. 

When Elizabeth offered to take the picture for them, Frank shot her down, “No, you need to be in it, too! I need to show my wife the girl who tattooed Harry Styles for her.”

They called someone else in to take a picture of them and they all squeezed together, arms around each other, smiling. The tattoo artists insisted that no payment was necessary if they could just have permission to post the pictures of his tattoos onto their shop’s Instagram account. Harry agreed and said their final thanks and goodbyes, slipping them a check for $5,000 and leaving before they could give him the check back.

“They were lovely,” Elizabeth noted, looking up at Harry as they walked back down the street towards the direction of his car.

Harry grinned, grabbing hold of her hand before saying, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She giggled, blushing, “So I’ve been told.”

“Anything else on your agenda?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, back at your house.”

The drive back was quieter than it normally was as they reflected on the events of the night. Listening to Frank talk about how resilient his wife was while hearing a tinge of fear echoing in the words of this tough, large man had really put into perspective how short life really was. Elizabeth felt like she was meant to go into that tattoo shop so she could be reminded to live her life the way she wanted to.

As soon as they reached Harry’s house, Elizabeth led Harry to his backyard, kicking her shoes off and flipping on the pool lights. She turned to Harry and looked at him while she unbuckled her belt and tossed it on the ground. His eyes furrowed and she reached to the bottom of her dressed, slowly lifting it up over her head and tossing that on the ground, exposing her underwear. His eyes lit in realization as she started to unhook her bra and he rushed to pull his clothes off. Soon they were both naked and racing to the hot tub, stepping in, careful not to get their fresh tattoos wet. 

“I’m not going to lie,” Harry said, sitting across from Elizabeth, “This is probably the best first date I’ve ever had.”

Elizabeth laughed and joked, “Really? It’s probably my worst.” Earning a little splash from Harry. “Careful!” she exclaimed, brushing the hair away from her raw tattoo. “I’m kidding. It’s been the best first date I’ve been on, too.”

He slicked the hair out of his face with a wet hand, saying, “We go back home in a few days,” earning a nod from Elizabeth. He continued, “Any plans?”

“Yeah, Kate and Lewis will be back from their honeymoon the day before we get back, so Matt and I were going to go over to theirs and sleep over.”

Harry nodded, “You think you’d want to go visit my mom the next weekend?”

Elizabeth grinned, “Right, I forgot about that. Damn, one date and I’m already meeting the mom? You must be obsessed with me,” she joked.

“Shut up,” Harry groaned, chuckling a bit, “If you’re not my girlfriend by then, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

Elizabeth floated over to him, and hushed him, “Let’s not worry about that. Our date isn't over yet.”

****************************

She straddled him, watching him bite his lip as he wrapped his arms around her lower back, pulling her closer to him. She felt him between her legs hardening as she ran her fingers through his hair, lightly brushing her lips against his. He pulled her face in closer to kiss her more hungrily and she laughed in between pecks at his eagerness. Elizabeth slowly traced kisses from his lips, to his jaw, and over to his ear as her hands trailed down to his now throbbing cock. When she grabbed hold of him, she sucked on his ear lobe and nibbled a bit, breathing heavy as she pumped him up and down, faster, then slower.

He moaned her name, holding onto her hips before running his hands along her inner thighs and squeezing. He rubbed her clit, softly at first, until he inserted his middle and ring fingers into her. She felt her whole body vibrate when he flicked his fingers inside of her, her grab onto his shoulders. He drew breath, wincing as she accidentally grabbed onto his tattoo.

“Sorry,” she muttered, moving her hand down to his bicep.

Without response he slipped his fingers out of her and took hold of her hips again, lifting her up a bit, which was easier with her being half submerged in the hot tub water, slowly placing her onto his cock. They both let a moan as she circled her hips, engulfing him deeper inside her. She bent back a bit, propping her hands behind her ass onto his kneecaps, continuing to circle her hips, watching as Harry bit his lips and stared at her breasts bouncing against the splashing water. 

“Oh my God!” He panted, pulling her closer to him and taking her breast into his mouth. He flicked her nipple with his tongue and lightly nibbled, squeezing the other breast.

Elizabeth turned over and placed herself back on top of him before he forced her up and pushed her towards the other side of the pool, thrusting himself into her faster. She kneeled on the bench with the upper portion of her body hovering over the ground, outside of the hot tub. 

“Fuck,” Elizabeth moaned, “Harder, Harry!”

The water splashed more viciously as he pounded himself harder into her and she made her pussy tense up so it would be tighter for him. He gripped onto her waist so tightly she could feel his nails digging into her skin as he grunted. 

“Ahhh! Har-ry!” she yelped, her whole body shivering as she reached her orgasm.

This made Harry push her over the edge of the hot tub even further as he slammed himself into her, faster than he ever had, panting her name, “Lizzy!” over and over again. 

Before he could even say anything he pulled himself out of her quickly, cupping himself into his hand as he came and hoisting himself above the water’s surface. He used the water to splash the cum away and layed on the ground at the edge of the hot tub, legs still dangling in the water, looking over at Elizabeth who was still draped over the side. They both laughed before Harry spoke.

**********************

“Like I said, best first date ever.”

Elizabeth pulled herself out of the pool, bent down and kissed him before saying, “Come on, let’s watch a movie on the lounge couch out here.

Harry and Elizabeth dried themselves off before grabbing a duvet, some pillows, popcorn, oreos, and a laptop, taking it back outside to the lounge couch. They cuddled close under the duvet together, still naked, and watched ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’ until they both fell asleep under the stars.

KEEP READING

[pidgetyy]

My application for The Underpass, a roleplay hosted by @fireflythenightlight (and which I found through my dear friend @validwofjobs). Legacy is a mostly-human, slightly-pheonix girl who loves planning ahead, making new friends, and her two identical pet giant geckos, Lychee the pet leachie and Guinep the familiar leachie-salamander. The rest about her can be found in these incoming walls of text under the cut!

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Backstory- 

Legacy grew up with an older and younger sister, the treasured “only son” of her parents, especially her father. Her name, before she realized she wasn’t a boy and chose a new name for herself, was Terrence. Her family lived in an apartment above a pet reptile store, run by her father. She got her familiar, Guinep, as well as her beloved pet, Lychee, when she was 8. She bonded with Guinep especially as her familiar, but the identical Lychee received plenty of love too, and in the first few years she had trouble telling apart the identical and closely bonded New Caledonian Giant Geckos by anything other than their temperament- Guinep was very calm, but Lychee tended to be a lot more snappish. Lychee followed Guinep’s lead in warming up to Legacy quickly, but remains a little aggressive towards strangers. 

Legacy was almost 15 when she finally admitted to herself that she didn’t think she was really a boy, after two years of suppressing and refusing to believe her own feelings. She began to grow her hair out, and stared longingly at the girl’s section of stores, but didn’t dare to expose her identity to her parents, whose reactions she couldn’t predict in the slightest. After about a year and a half of planning and psyching herself up, she finally had the guts to come out to her parents. The fallout didn’t come to the extremes she’d read many a horror story of online, of physical abuse or conversion therapy, but her parents still refused to acknowledge her preferred pronouns or name, and began to threaten homeschooling her, to keep “their only son” away from “the influence of those queer friends of yours.” She refused to be homeschooled, and her parents responded that, if she insisted on this, then they wouldn’t be paying college tuition for a daughter they didn’t have. Upset to say the least, she haphazardly packed the belongings she thought of first and could fit in her backpack, and left. It was the largest decision she had made in her life, and it was completely unplanned.

Her grandma on her mother’s side lived in a small house halfway across the city, and Legacy hoped her parents hadn’t shared the news with her about her identity, because she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. It came as a surprise not that her grandmother knew, but she actually accepted Legacy, scoffing and asking her to “give me your real name, girl” when she introduced herself grudgingly as Terrence. For the next few months, she lived there happily, upset about some of the belongings she had forgotten to bring but definitely not willing to go back to her parents, who didn’t bother to come find her (after her grandmother had sternly told them over the phone not to come unless they were going to treat their daughter right). Her grandmother bought her real girl’s clothes, and even helped her dye her hair a bright shade of bubblegum pink she’d had her eyes on for months. She finished highschool a semester early, something she had already been planning to do since before coming out. Her grandmother, unfortunately, was starting to decline in her old age. She was in stage 4 of Alzheimer’s disease, beginning to get to stage 5, when she was finally deemed no longer able to care for herself and was placed in an elderly person’s home to be cared for. By that summer, Legacy was back on the streets, preferring them against going back to her parents.

She took a job as the sole member of the “Maintenance Crew” of a cafe/coffee shop in a slightly busier part of the city in order to pay for her own living necessities and her leachie’s. From age 17 to the start of rp, Legacy worked there, cleaning up spills, keeping tabs of what sanitary supplies needed restocking, and keeping the rest of the shop sanitary. She made use of the keys she had to the shop, coming in before dawn, and definitely before opening hours, to clean the shop and then to clean herself, and fix her hair to look presentable. On particularly cold nights, she would spend the night there, more to keep her beloved pets warm than for any other reason. Though her high body temperature was usually enough to keep herself and the leachies warm, she didn’t want to risk any of them getting sick on especially stormy or windy winter nights. Most nights, she would instead find a friend happy to lend a couch for the night, or a fellow homeless person she trusted enough to watch her back while she slept next to, for safety reasons.

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Personality-

Legacy is a generally cautious and consistent person. She sticks to her daily routine and her plans rather than acting spontaneously without thought. Unexpected changes and surprises are strongly disliked, because she hates being unprepared for something and sometimes has trouble dealing with surprise changes to her own plans because of that. Besides not being a big fan of practical jokes, she tries not to act outwardly uptight or prissy in social situations, even if her careful organization, tidiness and plans may make her seem like it. Most people wouldn’t pinpoint her as a homeless kid if they saw her, because she dedicates a considerable amount of time and money to making herself look very clean and neat. Half of the backpack she wears is filled with two other outfits, which she mixes-and-matches often. When she feels like a fashion change is in order, she’ll donate some clothes and buy new replacements for them at a local clothing exchange store. 

Her careful and well-put-together nature stems from a deep fear of making mistakes. Legacy hates the thought that she might make some mistake, do something wrong that could ruin her life as it is now, or change it beyond recognition (even if the change was for the better). So instead, she chooses inactivity. Though she could probably find a permanent place to live if she got a second job and saved carefully, she doesn’t, and instead spends most of her paycheck on unnecessary things like new clothes when she no longer needs it to buy food and water for her and her pets. She waited and planned for over a year to come out to her parents, and it still didn’t end well, so now she just tries to avoid taking any risks like that again (besides hiding her gender- she’s definitely done doing that. She presents as female and uses her real, chosen name. Most people don’t even realize she wasn’t born a girl). Legacy prefers to be a follower in social situations, rather than a leader. That way, she’s less likely to take the brunt of the consequences if a wrong decision is made. Safer. She prefers being safe, and right now her routine and life is safe and predictable, so she doesn’t see a need to change it or plan to end up anywhere else in her life.

Her caution about life decisions and other areas doesn’t quite extend to the social side of her life, however. Legacy’s a people person and a definite extrovert. She likes to surround herself with new friends at any chance she gets, and has a great memory for faces and personal details. Since middle school, she hasn’t forgotten a friend’s birthday or favorite color. Stranger’s opinions generally don’t have the power to change your whole life around, so with that low-risk assessment of friendship Legacy goes at making friends with a sort of wild abandon. Her charisma isn’t exactly impressive, but that doesn’t matter when she can just walk away and try again with someone else if the first person doesn’t seem to like her all that much. Even though she could listen to details about a person she barely knows for hours, and loves to learn new details about anyone, she’s dismissive of people’s opinions, especially if they’re about her. Few people have ever managed to become such an ingrained part of Legacy’s life as to earn the title of “Friend I actually care about and will make an effort not to lose.” Legacy shows up at many a party, flitting between groups for a while usually before finding someone she likes enough to hang out with for the rest of the night or couch-crash with, but refuses to get any farther than slightly tipsy even if the drinks are free. Being drunk is far too risky a thing for her to ever have attempted, even as tempting as it sometimes was. Party-going and friend-making are a few items on the short list of things she rarely, if ever, plans for.

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Extra Facts™-

-She is, by a small percentage, a Phoenix hybrid (1/8th, or 12.5 percent to be precise) by her great-grandmother on her mother’s mother’s side. She doesn’t have the identifying wings because of her lack of more phoenix-hybrid ancestors, but does have the noticeably higher body temperature and small flame-producing ability. She doesn’t have a ton of control over the flames, and they’re likely to appear, purposefully or not, when she’s feeling strong emotions.

-her favorite color is, by far, pink. Second is light green.

-Partially because of favorite-color influence, partially because of its sweet flavor, her favorite food is watermelon.

-She isn’t a vegetarian, but she generally doesn’t like meat very much. 

-She wishes she had the spare money to afford an instrument. Legacy used to play the flute in her middle school band, and loved it, but she left it behind in her parent’s house.

-Lawful neutral

-She’s a Libra (her birthday is September 28th)

[lettersofwrittencollective]

I promise

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective​ Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Word Count: -

Warnings: None

Prompt:  None

A/N:  This is my first time ever posting something. Was watching the episode this starts with earlier and for some reason this particular story just jumped into my head and while i am unsure how it will be received i hope you like it. Also, she has 0 idea but this is dedicated to @justauthoring whose writing is absolutely amazing and actually inspired me to create my own blog and try writing my own stuff. 

I also apologize as i have no idea how to insert a read more but i think i did it right.

Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

credit for gif to @dylanholyhellobrien

You ran up the stairwell, trying to reach Stiles and Theo as quickly as possible. The rest of the hospital was falling apart and the Dread Doctors were wreaking havoc. You may not be pack but you’d be damned if you were going to lose anyone else to some psychopath. Coming to the rooftop, you slowed down so that you weren’t running blindly into an unknown situation.. As you moved around, you heard the rattling of a gate and as your claws came out you heard Theo say  “We stay, we’re either gonna have to tell the truth or we’re gonna need a pretty convincing story.” You were just about to breathe a sigh of relief but when you turned the corner, you saw Stiles on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Before you’d realize it you were growling and had already turned - ready to tear Theo apart. You, however, realized that you were looking at both Stiles and Theo. Blinking, your head bounced back and forth between the two boys standing in front of you and the body on the floor before you finally realized you had no idea who was on the floor.

“Well… we better move fast.” you breathed out once you realized your friends were safe.

As far as you knew, you’re a lot like Theo, not actually part of the pack. The difference though is that Stiles trusts you. Your family had been on the deadpool and were murdered one night - you had only survived because the assassin hadn’t expected you to wake up let alone fight back. He probably hadn’t known about the supernatural world, was probably just some run of the mill, normal world assassin. At the very least, he had seemed shocked when your claws ended up in his lungs while he tried to subdue you. His lack of knowledge of the supernatural meant that you survived - you’re not sure if you’re supposed to be grateful for the fact.

At 17, you are technically considered a ward of the state and have been placed with some foster family that lives in the main part of Beacon Hills instead of the county. You’d met Malia originally and she recognized your last name. Being Malia, she had no real tact when she asked you about them and it was such a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the world that has been treating you as fragile. Since then, you’ve hung out with the pack and while you like everyone and they seem to like you, you’re not sure that you want to necessarily find another pack right now. Sure an omega on their own is likely to die but you’re still trying to get past your own families deaths. Besides, unlike Scott you have a hard time believing that everyone is  redeemable.  

Both boys had frozen when they heard you growl but when you spoke their heads whip over to you so fast, it momentarily startled you. Theo and Stiles exchange some words about lying to Stiles’ dad and you can’t help but feel sorry for Stiles when he says he’s had plenty of practice. You don’t dwell on it though and helped the boys get the body to Stiles’ jeep. While Stiles’ drives the group of you to the animal clinic you call Scott and tell him to meet you there. It takes him maybe a half hour to meet up with you guys and by that time you noticed that both boys you were with seemed to be a little jumpy, though that was likely because  the Dread Doctors had almost killed both of them.

When Scott identified the body as a Junior at your school you briefly wondered who would miss him. After all, death doesn’t happen to the person that dies but to everyone left behind, you understood that better than you had ever wanted to but you pushed that to the side and paid attention to what was going on around you.

Scott asked who had killed the boy, if the one with the cane had done it. You didn’t miss the way that Stiles and Theo looked at each other before Theo answered. Stiles’ pulse seemed to suddenly stop for a moment.  You raised an eyebrow at them but didn’t say anything. When Scott looked at you for confirmation you shook your head “he was already dead when i got there.”

Scott gets a text from Liam and we’re off to save someone else. This time, though, I’ve no idea who it is. Scott had gone ahead of us on his motorcycle and I’m in the jeep with Stiles. Usually, he would talk nonstop but this time, you notice he is quiet, his breathing is faster, his pulse is racing. You turn to look at him and tilt your head slightly, trying to figure out what is going on.

“It’s anxiety.. You should be used to it by now.” he snapped at you after a moment. But you know what his anxiety smells like, You know what his normal stress level is and this was just so much more. You just chuckled and shook your head before purposely taking a deeper breath.

“It’s more than your normal level of anxiety Stiles. You wanna talk about it?”

Before you realize it, he’s pulled over on the side of the road fidgeting. Scott’s bike turns around and you got off to go see him. You made up some excuse about Roscoe breaking down and thankfully Stiles had the same idea as he had already popped the hood. After a few minutes of arguing, you were able to convince him to go help Liam out and and Stiles would be there shortly.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way back to Stiles and the jeep. He was just staring at the duct tape covered engine so you put you put your right hand on his left shoulder and squeezed, silently communicating that you were there for him. He was silent for a moment before he turned his body around to face yours.

“I - I didn’t mean to… He was trying to kill me and I just.. I just didn’t want to die.” Stiles whispered. His face was downwards and it looked like he was fighting back sobs. You cupped his face in your hands and lifted his eyes to look at yours. You didn’t know who he was talking about but you didn’t really care.

“Stiles.. It’s ok. It was self defense.”

“I’m gonna lose my best friend… I’m gonna lose Scott.”

“I promise you, you won’t. He may not like it but i promise you that you aren’t going to lose him Stiles.” you whispered as you used your thumb to wipe away the errant tear that fell down his cheek. “It was self-defense.”

“I’m going to lose everyone.”

When he began to shake, tears falling faster down his eyes you pulled him into a hug, your arms around his waist. This startled him at first as you were never really that affectionate with anyone but soon his arms were around your waist as well. It was a bit awkward as you were shorter than he was but as sobs began to wrack his body your arms moved to around his neck. and you moved your lips closer to his ear. You whispered promises to him that everything would be ok, even if they were rocky for a while. 

Stiles slowly began to relax and soon enough it was just the two of you standing on the side of the road with your arms around each other. You felt a bit awkward but forced yourself to stay where you were, your friend needed you. You allowed the hug to stay as it was and thought of what you could possibly say. 

You understood how he felt. You understood his terror and you knew it wasn’t necessarily unfounded. After all, none of your old friends talk to you anymore. But you refused to let that be Stiles. You refused to see your new friends torn apart because someone needed to survive. 

Stiles was the first one to pull back and he coughed awkwardly. You ran your hand along your head and nodded as you stepped back. “You gonna be ok?”

“I don’t know...”

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just filled with all the possible scenarios that could play out from here. Clearing your throat, you mentioned that it was probably time to get to Scott and Liam. Stiles was reluctant but agreed and got into the car with you. He continued to drive and you turned your face to the moon, taking strength and solace in it. The rest of the ride silent until you reached Scotts street. 

Once the jeep was parked and you followed Stiles towards the door you realized what you wanted to say. What you needed to say Reaching out you grabbed his wrist abruptly. He stopped and turned to look at you with a question in his eyes, “Y/N? What are you doing? We need to get -”

“I fully believe that everything is going to be ok. But I need to say this either way. Even if everyone else walks away, I will not leave you. I will stand by you and I will be there for you and anyone who disagrees can go screw themselves. Even if the whole world turns against you, which i fully doubt will happen, I will not abandon you Stiles Stilinski.

I promise.”

Stiles looked confused for a moment before he slowly nodded his head and gave you a relieved smile. 

Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 13

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvel-forever-17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

Wade insisted he wanted to play games, and Pictionary was the lowest effort game they could get him to agree to with the least chance of him inflicting property damage or bodily harm. And, as it happens, Piotr and Rhonda were absolutely unbeatable at Pictionary. Piotr could convey complex ideas quickly, with his honed skills, and Rhonda knew well enough how he thought that he usually didn’t even have to finish his sketch on the big dry erase board before she guessed correctly. Rhonda herself wasn’t much of an artist, and though her inelegant diagrams were inscrutable to Wade and Cable, they were very clear to Piotr.

For Rhonda, playing a game felt nice, but a little strange and uncomfortable like slipping into old clothes from when her tastes were very different. Recreation in the Icebox had been limited to fighting rings, giving or receiving tattoos, and making and hiding the most extreme shivs. Of course she remembered all the times she enjoyed playing Pictionary with her husband, but she also couldn’t shake the last few years being dangerous to focus on anything without also checking over her shoulder every second.

Wade and Cable made a chaotic team. No matter what he was supposed to be drawing clues for, Wade mostly drew penises and added different clothes or props to them. The correct answers for all of Wade’s drawings were a stretch -- several penises with biceps were supposed to be the Summer Olympics. A group of excessively hairy penises was supposed to be the Amazon rainforest. A penis wearing a beard, a sweater vest, and a Rage Against the Machine tattoo was supposed to be a political science professor. And so on.

Rhonda shook her head with a quiet laugh, despite herself. For a long time, she was the most mischievous person Piotr would keep close in his life, and Wade was orders of magnitude more impish than Rhonda had ever been - even counting the time she smuggled in some weed brownies to eat with Ororo and Ilyana. As Wade drew a penis with insect wings that was supposed to be Jeff Goldblum, she thought he was an unusual choice of friend for Piotr. But then, Piotr had also started dating a telepath, so maybe he had a few changes himself that she didn’t understand.

Cable huffed, “That’s it. I wanna switch teams.”

“Fine,” Wade said, voice completely level, “but I get Colossus.”

Cable and Rhonda exchanged a cold glare, before the four of them rearranged on the sumptuous leather couches according to the new teams. Her chest was tight and it was getting harder to stay calm as she gripped the dry erase marker. Her hand absently found her neck and rubbed where the collar used to sit. Cable drew out his stick figure diagrams - he had precise geometry with perfect circles and straight lines. It took Rhonda a few guesses, and time almost ran out for their turn, but she eventually guessed correctly.

Piotr’s turn was next, to draw for Wade. He had only roughed in a few simple shapes before Rhonda was sure the correct answer would be Claude Monet, but Wade seemed determined to guess everything but the correct answer. Piotr had practically recreated one of the water lily paintings before time ran out and Wade shouted his last guess, “JURASSIC PARK!”

“NO!” Piotr barked, frustrated.

Rhonda looked at her prompt while her husband argued with his friend. She carefully considered the best strategy to draw this out in a way Cable would correctly guess. They set the timer going and she quickly got to work making a rough representation of a werewolf fighting a vampire. Cable floundered through some guesses that weren’t even close, so she slashed a big line through the first one. In another corner of the board, she made her best drawing of Hades from the Disney version of Hercules, with fire around him. She looked over at her teammate and saw his brows knit together so tightly he could hold a half dollar coin in the furrow.

Time was running out. Rhonda twisted her hand in a circle, urgently encouraging him to keep guessing. She started a third drawing with some blocks to represent a city street with skyscrapers, and an arrow pointing under the street, with a lot of crude dollar bills. When she felt the push in her mind, an unwelcome other-ness like sticky fingers crawling along her spine, she froze.

“Underworld,” Cable finally said with complete confidence, two seconds before the timer started beeping.

Rhonda clenched her jaw and capped the marker. She snarled, “Stay out of my head, telepath,” and hurled the marker straight at Cable’s chest.

The marker halted, frozen in space with Cable’s telekinetic ability. He plucked the marker from the air and stood, gently setting it on the coffee table. His gaze fixed on Rhonda in a hard stare. One eye flared with bright orange-gold light.

Rhonda couldn’t stop the fight-or-flight rising in her chest. He looked just the way he had when he came into the Icebox and started shooting up the place. He looked like every other inmate or guard who had set eyes on her with murderous intent.

She shifted her stance and some whispers of lightning laced over her clenched fists. They both ignored Wade chattering about the movie Underworld and how it was a cinematic masterpiece.

Piotr moved quickly to get between them, throwing an arm in front of his wife in case she lunged. He shook his head at the silver haired soldier, “Please, Cable, don’t press her. Leave my wife alone.”

Cable’s brows quirked, then softened. “You’re scared of me?” he asked, but it didn’t sound much like a question. He eased a step backward. “You’re scared of everyone,” he said with more certainty.

“STOP IT!” she yelled.

She flicked her hand. Wade cocked a handgun. Cable shifted and raised his fist, ready to deflect.

Piotr caught her around the torso, immobilizing her, and raised his voice, “Wade, Cable, no!”

But instead of a bright streak of electricity arcing through the air, only a few paltry sparks flew and died no more than eight inches from her fingers.

Cable was never in any danger from her.

Wade giggled, smirking, “What is that, a warning shot? Or are you about as vicious as a nine-volt battery?”

“Drop it, Wade,” Piotr was desperate to de-escalate. It was so unlike Rhonda to lash out like this. He regretted putting her in a room with his friends when he knew she was uncomfortable with Cable, and Wade could be an abrasive jackass who wouldn’t leave well enough alone. This was a mistake.

Rhonda tried to wrench herself from her husband’s grip, only managing to bruise her ribs against his arm. “Let me go,” she growled.

“[No fighting. Relax,]” Piotr rumbled in Russian close to her ear. He kept his tone calm with her.

She lashed out with her legs, trying in vain to squirm out of his arm. “[Take your hands off me, now!]”

“[Not until you relax.]”

Wade raised his gun, but didn’t point it. “Uh, should I…?”

“No!” Piotr and Cable said at the same time. Cable took a few steps backward, palms up.

Rhonda huffed, winded from struggling against a giant vice grip.

“I promise it’s airsoft!” Wade said indignantly, “Look.” With a soft hiss, a small plastic pellet hit Cable in the chest. Cable grunted and before anyone could respond, Wade puffed his airsoft pistol again and shot Rhonda in the forehead.

The sting was enough to startle and stun her, and she halted her struggle against her husband’s grip. Still, he didn’t let go until she mumbled through a clenched jaw, “I’ve got an appointment with Hank. I should go.”

Finally, Piotr released his hold around her torso and gave her space. She took a deep breath, wincing at her sore ribs. The floral paint on her right arm had cracked all over from the motion, and was flaking off to reveal the Xs lurking underneath. Without looking anyone in the eye or saying another word, she stalked off, snatching her cardigan off the couch on her way out.

Cable watched her go, and when the door to the lounge shut, he turned to Piotr. “That’s all she’s got, isn’t it? The sparks. There used to be more.” It wasn’t quite a question. He knew. He had read her dread and humiliation and disgust and heartbreak.

Piotr swallowed and forced himself to speak evenly, “The power dampening collars in the Icebox.”

Wade shrugged and crossed to a shelf that had a bowl of mints. He picked through them until he grabbed a half dozen that were shaped differently from the rest. “Hellooo my little friends! Daddy needs some Percocet!”

Piotr looked at the candy dish in horror. He quickly set to laying into Wade for hiding pharmaceuticals in the candy; Wade insisted it wasn’t a big deal since it was in an adults-only room, and he was probably doing the X-Men a favor.

Rolling his eyes, Cable politely excused himself and headed for the infirmary.

--

Rhonda’s follow up with Dr. McCoy went well enough. He didn’t ask her why she had shown up so early, nor did he prod her about seeming agitated. “Take things as slowly as you need,” he reminded her, “Your relationships with your friends, with yourself...it will all come back.” Hank gave her a reassuring smile.

She nodded, but her jaw didn’t relax. Her gaze set on the paper bag full of medication for injuries and infections that hadn’t quite healed on their own. The paper crinkled in her fist. “Thank you,” she forced herself to speak.

Pointing at her arm, Hank said, “This looks nice. Piotr?”

Her expression flickered brighter when she followed his gesture to the flowers on her arm. “Yeah, we were playing with paint this morning,” she explained. “It was gorgeous when it was fresh.”

Hank watched her smile fade and fidgeted with his stethoscope. He went to the supply drawers and took out the spare lightbulb from a few days ago. “Try this again,” he held it out to her.

Rhonda heaved a sigh loaded with hesitation. “No.”

The doctor’s encouraging smile didn’t falter. “Why don’t you take it with you, then?” He set to putting it back in its flimsy cardboard box. “That way you’ll have it whenever you’re ready. When you can light this bulb, we’ll move on to other things. How does that sound?”

Crinkling the bag and letting out another slow breath, Rhonda begrudgingly took the boxed lightbulb. “It feels like I’ll be like this forever.”

Hank saw the chance to get her to elaborate, “Be like what?” When she gave him a pointed look, he didn’t push. “It will feel like that sometimes,” he conceded, “even when you know you’re doing better. I think it helps to remember you have a lot of people who love you, no matter what you’re able to do.”

Rhonda returned a weak smile. “Thanks,” she said, “I’ll try.” She gestured a loose salute with the lightbulb, and backed out of the office.

She almost backed right into Cable, but he sidestepped her and cleared his throat. Startled, she spun, ready to drop her things and throw punches right for his gut, but he took another step back and raised his palms.

“I want to apologize,” he began.

Her jaw worked, chewing on her emotions as she tried to remember she was home and to keep her manners. Rhonda took a moment to study the opulent wallpaper over Cable’s shoulder before meeting his eyes. “And?” she prompted.

“I have a...condition,” Cable gestured with his left hand, which was metal, but a little darker and less polished than Piotr’s steel. All the way up his arm and over his shoulder, the metal crept up his neck, where his skin puckered and pinched as it gave way to the metal. He continued, “I use my psionic powers to keep it from getting worse, and sometimes that makes it harder to control my telepathy.” He lowered his hands and let them rest on his belt. “I’m sorry I got in your head. There’s...some heavy shit in there. It’s harder to avoid than most people’s thoughts.”

The tension in Rhonda’s shoulders eased just a hair. “Most people can’t feel a telepath poking around,” she warned, “I can.”

Cable nodded, “So it’s hard for you to trust us.” At Rhonda’s sharp inhale, he added firmly, “That part’s obvious, ma’am, I don’t have to pull for it.”

“Ma’am?” she scoffed, trying to force herself to loosen up.

“Just tryin’ to be respectful,” he took a step to the side, starting to edge away. “And maybe,” he added, fumbling for words, “Try practicing to music.”

Her brows twitched together and she tilted her head. “Okay?”

Cable shrugged, “Just something my daughter would probably say if she met you. She used to say music made everything better. A lot of good advice.” He gave a warm smile that didn’t show any teeth, but made him look years younger and with half of whatever worries he carried now.

They exchanged curt nods and went their separate ways. With her meds and the lightbulb in hand, Rhonda headed to her room. She shook her head wondering why, as a dancer, she hadn’t thought of practicing to music herself.

[sweetheartjeongguk]

pretty kitty 2 (m)

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: hybrid au, camgirl au, smut

rating: nc-17

warning(s): taehyung making dumb decisions, jimin being utterly confused (as always), jungkook and his assortment of fruits, good ol’ squirting, impregnation kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex

word count: 3.8k+

summary: temptation is a dangerous game to play. 

the discovery | the denial | the meeting | the aftermath | the payback

masterlist

Contrary to popular belief, Taehyung did not whip out his rusty romantic skills like in the cheesy rom-coms where he runs after you to make sure you’re okay and you instantly fall in love with him. While he prides himself on his handsome face, he can only go so far. The tiny amount of courage within him to follow after you fizzles like a pathetic flame, both from fear of rejection and fear of Seulgi beating his ass on the street for everyone and their mother to bear witness to.

Taehyung may come off as an intimidating tiger hybrid in the eyes of his classmates and every stranger he passes, but according to his oh-so lovely friends and (probably) his parents, he can be a bit of a pussy from time to time.

Instead, Taehyung, like all brave predators, shoves himself into one of the bathroom stalls of the café. He takes several deep breaths to himself, desperate to calm the anxiety and residual anger lingering in his chest. They’re irrational, he knows this all too well, but he couldn’t help it.

It’s like his tiger is reaching out to you only to be stuck behind an invisible barrier, reminding him of just how unobtainable you are.

“Tae?”

Taehyung coughs reflexively at the voice of his best friend echoing in the empty men’s bathroom. He hears a tired sigh – seconds later, there’s a gentle knock on the rickety stall door.

“You okay there, tiger?” Jimin asks cautiously.

“I’m getting there…” Taehyung tries to laugh, but it comes out wobbly and insincere.

He leans his forehead against the cold stall door before reminding himself of the colonies of germs plaguing the surface and stepping away in disgust. He can sense the curiosity emanating from Jimin – no doubt that Jimin’s formulating a whole script of questions for his best friend.

“Are you really that upset at Hoseok?” Jimin’s eyebrow ticks up. “You know he’s just messing around. Contrary to popular belief, Jung Hoseok has standards. He wouldn’t mess with any girl like that, especially if she’s your girl.”

“It’s not that.” Taehyung says abruptly. “She’s not my girl. She’s not…anyone.”

He mentally curses himself for speaking before his brain can tell him to shut his mouth and listen.

“Oh?” Jimin’s curiosity is practically tangible. “So what then?”

“Nothing.”

Taehyung clenches his fists in frustration. Why is he so worked up? The answer is perfectly clear, yet he’s adamant on forgetting the whole situation ever existed. How is he supposed to waltz into class on a seemingly normal Monday morning without looking over at your desk and imagining your nude body glistening in sweat and waiting to receive him?

Taehyung physically shakes away the intrusive thoughts. The less he spends in his own mind, the better his chances of forgetting the situation entirely. Sure, he can never look at you the same way again, and you kind of ruined regular porn for him – in a good way, but Taehyung can’t see how that benefits him in any way. Maybe, just maybe, if Taehyung suppresses the temptation to click on your channel and attempt at forgetting you ever exist, then everything will go back to normal! Easy peasy!

Taehyung’s wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.

After shoving himself back into his chair at the café and forcing himself to socialize with the others as if nothing’s wrong, he finds himself doing semi-okay. While Jimin’s eyes glance over at him more than usual, Taehyung’s doing better than he expected. The story of Yoongi getting stuck inside his studio and not being to get out for at least two days and only surviving on beef jerky and coffee in a can certainly stirs his mind away from the dirty thoughts of your lingerie and seductive lip-biting.

But once the seven of them depart to their own dorms in preparation for a new week of lectures and homework, Taehyung finds himself in his own personal hell.

Jimin watches from the corner of the classroom in half amusement and half concern at his best friend practically gnawing away at his thumb nail five minutes before the start of class. Fortunately for the younger of the two, Jimin doesn’t notice his wandering eyes towards a certain desk in the front of the room.

You sit in your seat patiently, fiddling with your pencil case and stopping for a second to wave at one of your friends who shouts a “Hi Y/N!” from across the room. You aren’t the most popular person in school, but you did have a small collection of friends here and there in the class.

Considering your online personality, it still baffles Taehyung how quickly your behavior switches up in a blink of an eye. His eyes threaten to dry out from how hard he watches your every move, but he manages to grab ahold of himself and finally blink some moisture into his now-strained eyeballs before someone discovers his not-so-discreet creepiness.

“She looks familiar.”

Taehyung swallows back a growl at Jungkook who he barely noticed was beside him the entire time, munching on an assortment of strawberries and blueberries. Jungkook’s unphased by Taehyung’s show of aggression – he has too many embarrassing stories of Taehyung that dulls his reactions as the years go by – but it doesn’t go unnoticed by a small group of girls a few seats away. They giggle and awe over Taehyung’s “masculinity” with obvious temptation reflecting in their eyes.

“Sooyoung, you have to get back in on that.” Seunghee whispers as if it’s the darkest secret of the universe.

Sooyoung, a dark-haired lynx hybrid with a fierce attitude to match, scoffs. “Who’s to say I ever left?”

The other girls surrounding her gasp and squeal in obvious delight, soaking in Sooyoung’s tales of the past and sighing at how “lucky” she is. Unbeknownst to them, you listen into the girls’ conversation in equal parts jealousy and irritation.

You’re irritated because you’d rather not hear about Taehyung’s “massive cock” on Monday morning before you’ve had a proper lunch. On the other hand, you’re jealous because you know all about Sooyoung and Taehyung – she’d definitely know a thing or two about his…penile situation.

“Sooyoung being cringy again?”

You sigh in relief at the sight of Seulgi who trudges in a minute late, her backpack lazily swung around her shoulders and her hair tangled in a messy bun as if she’d just woken up and rushed across campus for the lecture. Seeing as though you’ve known her for a good ten years, you’d say that your assumption’s correct.

“Rough morning?” You snort as you take in her complete appearance. “I didn’t know coffee stains and maple syrup were all the rage in the fashion industry.”

“Shut up.” Seulgi grimaces at the mess on her shirt. “I didn’t have time to do laundry yesterday. Yeri decided to use all the soap to clean her…delicates.”

You reflect her discomfort. “Doesn’t she know that she can wash them by hand?”

“She’s a neat freak who practically snorts Gain detergent.” Seulgi sighs in defeat. “There’s no way I can save the child from her destructive behavior.”

“Just buy some more soap, you weirdo.” You flick a manicured nail against her cheek. “Or like I’ve always told you, do laundry at my house. Joohyun told me that she’s waiting for your Just Dance rematch.”

“Oh yeah, don’t your sugar daddies pay for your water bill?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. Seulgi has no tact whatsoever, and you have no clue why she hasn’t gotten into trouble with it yet. It must be the Kang charm, as she loves to call it. You just call it how it is – pretty people BS.

“Not in public, Seulgi!” You resist the urge to flick her across the nose. “I have a job too, you know…”

Seulgi’s the only one in your friend group to actually know about your “camgirl career”, as she proudly dubs it. Joohyun nearly found out a month ago when you were camming and she accidentally came home unannounced. Thankfully, she just thought you were having a little “one-on-one” time and decided to leave you for the entire night.

While you constantly remind Seulgi that the sugar daddies are only for the bills and your college debt crisis, she likes to think that when you finally make a living with it (you don’t know where she gets her delusions), you’ll let her live with you and your sugar daddies in a million-dollar mansion in Seoul.

Truth be told, that actually sounds pretty spectacular. But you’d be damned if you’d let Kang Seulgi be right for once.

“No shame, no shame.” Seulgi waves her hands before going to unzip her backpack to grab her binder and pencils. “Who knew you can flash your pussy in front of thousands of people and get paid for it?”

She completely ignores your blushing red face as she continues muttering to herself. “Maybe I should do that.”

You practically dig your feet into the floor as you pray to a higher power that no one can hear Seulgi. Considering the entire class is made up of 80% hybrids, it’s a long shot but not entirely impossible. No one’s spoken up so far, so you take this as a miracle from the Lord as you sit back in relief and wait for the teacher to finally arrive to begin lecture.

Needless to say, you find yourself completely oblivious to the tiger hybrid a couple rows behind you who has been listening in since the start of class.

And the lynx hybrid who smirks dangerously at this fresh bit of juicy gossip.

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Taehyung ignores the poke to his cheek and instead focuses on finishing his essay for his psychology class.

Maybe if he took a page from Pavlov’s book, he can train Jimin to shut up every time he hears a bell ring. Jimin likes to call it “cruel and unusual punishment.” Taehyung dubs it “essential knowledge.”

“Nope.”

“How about now?”

“Nope.”

“Now?”

“You want me to punch you in the face?”

“Oh, so feisty.” Jimin giggles devilishly.

Taehyung rolls back his shoulders as he continues typing away at his laptop, reaching the final page of his essay. Slowly but surely, he’ll be done for the night and in time for his 5-hour nap session. At least then, Jimin won’t be around to nag on him anymore.

“Did you really hate the site I showed you? I got another one if you’re interested.”

Taehyung says nothing to this. For the next ten minutes, he wishes for complete and utter focus on his essay – at least until his reference page – and not the dreadful image of your sopping wet cunt replaying like an annoying infomercial across his brain.

“Oh…I see.” Jimin smirks at the lack of response. “Maybe you liked it a little too much? I understand…”

Jimin pauses to watch Taehyung’s face, but his boastful ego is only fed with the same deadpan look from ten minutes ago. He’ll have to step it up a notch – time for Phase III.

“Maybe you’ve just been watching the wrong ones. I had the same issue when I first discovered the site so you’re not alone.” Jimin sighs in fake despair. “If you want a good one, my friends’ been talking about that prettykitty channel, but I haven’t gotten around to—"

Skkrrt!

Jimin nearly flings himself out of his own chair at Taehyung’s abrupt leave. He barely takes time to completely shut down his computer, and Jimin’s pretty sure that he didn’t save his work either.

“Okay…goodbye, I guess.” Jimin grumbles to himself, scratching awkwardly at the nape of his neck.

What’s bothering Taehyung so much?

Taehyung has an answer for that, and it’s simply this. 

He’s going crazy. Complete and utterly bonkers. 

That’s it – the obvious explanation for the entire situation.

Stress from the new school semester mixed in with daily struggles like remembering to call his parents on their anniversary before he’s bombarded with angry texts from his mother or paying his tuition fees on time so that he doesn’t end up living in a box outside of his lecture hall.

Why else would he be so hung up on someone he barely even knows? Sure, he’s known you since you two were barely out of Pull-ups, and yeah, you’ve occasionally played together on the playground before you found your own groups to hang out with. College’s different – you’re two grown adults who are working towards a degree for a career that you’re bound to be stuck in for the rest of your lives. You both crave excitement – while his involves watching girls get themselves off on camera, you’re actually living as one of them!

Maybe that’s why he’s so enamored by the sudden discovery of this darker version of you behind the screen. You, the quiet and introverted student by day, become the loudest sex kitten known to mankind by night. It’s enough to shock anyone into a meaningless daze – much like the one Taehyung’s in right now.

‘It all makes sense now!’

“You just have to watch someone else…then you won’t think about her anymore.” Taehyung whispers to himself as he types in the infamous website. “Once you see a new pair of nice tits, you’ll get over hers.”

If Jimin and the rest of the boys, especially Namjoon who oversees the group as an unofficial leader, could hear him right now, Taehyung would be due for a smack in the head.

Regardless of what does and what doesn’t make sense, Taehyung likes to think that it’s the only possible solution to his ‘you’ problem.

Forget the old by welcoming something new.

He nods happily to himself as he scrolls through the list of camgirls on the site, pointedly ignoring the one that stands out to him the most.

The blinking red alert of “Live!” stares him straight in the face, but Taehyung gathers all of his emotional strength to skip over it completely to click on another.

It’s a bunny hybrid this time – Taehyung just knows that Jungkook would be creaming himself in under five seconds at the sight of the cottontail poking through black lace panties. The girl’s hot, Taehyung can’t deny that obvious fact. She’s already touching herself through the lace, with her free hand coming up to caress a sensitive nipple. He’s quickly reminded of his unofficial task of the night: forget all about prettykitty to focus on peachbun instead.

‘Foolproof plan, if I do say so myself.’

Somewhere, Namjoon clutches his heart from a sudden sting of pain – or was it betrayal?

He reaches down to slowly stroke his cock through his sweatpants, getting himself warmed up as the girl continues touching herself. He smirks to himself as he falls into a relaxed state, welcoming in her soft moans and sleek sounds from her pussy as she starts stretching herself out with two fingers.

Not even two minutes in, and Taehyung finds himself in trouble.

He frowns as he switches between rapid tugging and stroking at a snail’s pace. Nothing. Not even the sight of the girl’s pebbled nipples and overflowing sleek over her thighs can make Taehyung as hard as a rock.

If anything, his dick’s as hard as an al dente pasta noodle.

He pouts as his dick sits as limp as ever against his stomach. If dicks could have sad faces, his would be the poster child. He can practically hear Jimin and the others mimic sad violins behind him, mocking him for his complete and utter failure of a boner. Taehyung can’t help but think that God’s purposely against him for watching porn – or so, his mother would probably say.

Taehyung bites his lip pensively as he scrolls back to the top of the page. Your channel teases him, the red ‘Live’ button winking incessantly and slowly provoking him to click, to give into the temptation. He plays with the idea of searching through more camgirl channels, but suddenly even that feels like a tedious chore.

He knows what he wants – he just can’t (shouldn’t) have it. Taehyung moves the mouse to click out of the webpage, but his own stubbornness freezes him in his tracks, the mouse icon hovering over the exit button.

It’s Monday evening – the end of a hard day’s work at school. He completed his psychology essay on time with a couple hours to spare, and he made sure to send the extra time to answer all the messages in his emails, especially the one from his little siblings who bombarded him to spend them money to buy new games at the mall, and clean up his bathroom after God knows how many months.

Taehyung deserves a little pampering for himself (as awkward as it sounds) – a little “self-care”, so to speak – so…why not?

Before he can physically rip himself away from his laptop and chuck himself through his dorm room window, Taehyung clicks on your livestream and waits as it loads. It had been about 5 minutes since your livestream started, and Taehyung hopes that he hasn’t missed much.

It’s as if invisible hands are strangling him when Taehyung finally enters the livestream.

You’re indeed streaming…but you’re not alone.

“F-fuck, Daddy, yes.” You cry out as the man drives his hips into yours, his veiny hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “Fuck m-my little pussy. Fill me up with your kittens.”

The sight of you, complete with your ears and tail, being obliterated by an unknown man is enough for Taehyung’s cock to fill up and ache to be touched. He should be angry – at most, he’s a little bit jealous. Instead, he’s completely drawn into the image of someone else’s cock inside of you and the wetness that spills over onto the sheets and down your thighs.

Taehyung whines pathetically as he grips his own cock on his right hand, tugging in tandem with the man’s thrusts. He can hear every lewd squelch of your pussy as it clings to the man’s dick in a tight vice. By the sound of his throaty grunts, it only keeps riling hm up. While the man’s face is never shown, Taehyung gets a front-row view of your fucked-out expression – the most important part of the show, in his opinion.

You’re drenched in sweat and come, but you still look as pretty as you did today. You lean upwards to crash your lips against the stranger’s and as you pull away, a cute little string of spit drips from your bottom lip. Your tiny hands grasp at the bedsheets in desperation – in a sneaky attempt to touch your clit, the man smacks at your wrists, and you assume your original position.  

“O-Oh shit, that feels so good.” You giggle through every harsh thrust, stretching your legs out further so that his cock fills your hole deeper and deeper. “Daddy always knows how to take care of his little pussy in heat. He knows how to make his kitten feel so good.”

Taehyung swallows dryly -- your little stream’s a pretend heat session. You didn’t show any signs of an actual heat in class, so it’s a fair assumption that you’re just playing it up for views and tips. It plants a little image in the viewers’ heads of you being in heat just for them. Meanwhile, you work to stack up cash for the night, aiming for $5k in about an hour. Last time, you’d gotten $2k, and you had only streamed for less than an hour, so your expectations are more or less obtainable.

As Taehyung continues fucking up into his clenched fist, he takes a peek at the comment section that goes berserk. Comments such as “You look so fucking hot!” and “I can’t wait for you to come all over yourself, baby” are the most common that he sees – and they are absolutely right.

“Come in my little pussy, Daddy.” You whimper as the man’s thrusts start to become sloppy, his hand that once grips at your throat moving down to grip your sides.

You lean onto your chest in order to reach behind you and knead your cheeks apart, his wet thrusts hitting every sweet spot possible. It’s hard to not roll your eyes back in pleasure, but you keep your eyes on the man, pouting cutely as you silently beg for your quick release.

“Does my little kitty like that, huh?” Taehyung subtly snarls at the commanding tone of the stranger.

Maybe he’s more than a little jealous.

“I f-fucking love it.” Your own hips grind back onto his cock, desperate to milk out whatever release he had for you.

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your tail sends tingles down your spine and into the apex of your thighs. You’re reaching the end of your rope, and Taehyung sees it even before it finally happens.

Taehyung closes his eyes as he tightens his fist around his wet cock. He’s so close to his own release, but he wants to wait until you come – a lame excuse to pretend that you’re coming on his cock and not some stranger’s, that you’re the one receiving his come and being filled up with his kittens.

“I’m coming!”

Taehyung pants as he watches your face transform into a look of sheer bliss as your juices spray all over the man’s cock and onto the already sodden bedsheets. You’re suddenly lifted up against his broad chest, the audience catching a glimpse at the cock snug deep in your creamy pussy, and the man fucks up in quick bursts as he reaches his own end.

“What a good kitty.” The man purrs as his fingers trail down your stomach to flick gently at your pink pearl.  

You purr in response as you feel his warm come fill you up, the overstimulation on your clit bringing together a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. When it becomes too much, you twitch away from his fingers, a whine parting from your swollen lips. You accidentally shift off his cock with a wet pop, a steady stream of come dripping from your little hole and mixing in with your clear juices from before.

The sight’s too much for Taehyung to handle, and he can’t stop himself from staining his t-shirt with the white ropes of his own come. His breath grows heavy with each finishing stroke until his cock becomes too sensitive, forcing him to pull away and take a much-needed breather.

However, his eyes stay glued to your form as you wave goodbye to your viewers, giggling profusely as the man plants multiple kisses along the curve of your back. Your adorable laughter soon morphs into decadent whimpers once you feel his warm tongue lick away the remaining come that coats your cunt.

“Dream of me tonight, Daddy.”

Your blissful sigh is all Taehyung witnesses before the livestream officially ends, leaving Taehyung to clean up his mess.

Both literally and metaphorically.

[harryandmolly]

i could write it better than you ever felt it - two

Summary: fuck growing up. this is freedom, this is life, this is youth -- 2007 Warped Tour style.

Warnings: Language, a lot of tongue

Word count: 5k

Valentina forgets, just briefly, why the fuck she agreed to this around the time she unloads the 30th box from the truck.

And then the gates open.

Val’s never been to Disney World despite the fact that she and her family have lived in Florida all her life. Her parents never thought of it as a suitable vacation or activity for their children’s growing minds. But she imagines this is what it looks like, feels like when the gates of the Magic Kingdom open in the morning.

She’s watching from afar when they start letting people in. Swarms of teens and young adults with multicolored hair and vibrant graphic tees pour in searching out solace and togetherness. They’ll find it here, she’s sure. She always did.

The first bands were on at 11:30am. She’s camped out at her now fully functional merch tent and the initial door opening rush has ceased. She’s officially back in the saddle, and officially exhausted.

Her feet are propped up on the table and her sunglasses are drawn low down her nose as she surveys the area and tells herself she’s not looking for that guy, the one she saw during load-in. The one with the legs.

A hand clamps down over her eyes and her instincts tell her to drop her feet and squeal. A low rumbling laugh falls over her shoulder. Her racing heart settles.

“Alex, you’re a prick.”

And there he is. All 6’1”, 130 pounds of him. Alex Gaskarth, lead singer of All Time Low, her second favorite goofball.

She looks over her shoulder at him and grins despite her grating words. He takes his cue to step around the table and present himself to her. He’s wearing a smirk and a douchey white snapback. He lifts his thick dark eyebrows.

“But I’m your prick,” he reminds her. She shakes her head and stands. He holds out his long, gangly arms for her to wrap herself up in.

She sways them back and forth and lands a friendly kiss on his cheek. “I can’t believe it took you this long to come visit. I half expected the bus would run over you when we pulled in here this morning.”

“Following you around the venue like a puppy is so 2005,” he chuckles, alluding to the not-so-secret crush he harbored pretty famously on her during her last fall tour with Streets. Despite the potential for awkwardness, Alex and Val remained friends. She even wrote with him sometimes when he was in the Miami area.

She claps him on the back and releases him. “What time are you on? Hurley.com, right?”

He grins proudly, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, can you believe it? Fuckin’ Hurley.com! We’re on at 4 today.”

She bobs her head. “That’s a good slot. Long enough after lunch that people will be looking around for a set to catch.”

“Exactly. Rian’s out with the posterboard now walking the line.”

Val tossed her head back with a laugh. Walking the line was a time-honored tradition at Warped Tour for smaller bands. They designate members to walk around the grounds with a posterboard announcing their stage and set time. It’s a duty no one particularly likes because it’s hot and a little humiliating but the ATL boys always did it with gusto. Val’s pretty sure it had more to do with meeting girls than with the pride of convincing potential fans to come catch their set.

“I don’t miss that shit,” she admits.

He shoots her a look. “You must miss the rest of it, though. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Psychoanalyzing me already, Gaskarth? Buy me a drink first.”

She gently backs him off with her sharp wit. The truth is, Alex knows more about her than she’d probably care to realize. He’s perceptive as hell, which makes him an amazing songwriter. But here, at the merch table, where she can feel the heavily lined eyes of 17-year-olds staring at them curiously, she doesn’t much feel like getting into her personal life. Especially since she knows he has the ear of Raf.

“I will definitely buy you a drink at the barbecue tonight!” he offers with a glint in his eye.

“The booze is free at the barbecue.”

“That’s perfect, free drinks are my favorite kind to buy. I gotta bounce, I’ll see you tonight, kid.”

He bumps her fist with his and jogs off, holding the saggy ass of his skinny jeans up with one hand as he waves at a giggling group of fans.

When the smell of his Axe body spray and sweat fades, the watchful eyes remain. Val is used to them, had gotten good at ignoring them, but she’s a little out of practice.

They feel sharper than she remembers. She blinks hard, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She swallows uncomfortably and reaches for a water bottle.

Despite the 50/50 male to female ratio of attendance at Warped Tour and the general understanding that women are more a part of the scene than ever before, female band members, especially female drummers, are not widely accepted. She was bothered by it for a time, unsure how anyone could mistake her drive to write and make music as a way for her to sleep with band and crew. She kept everyone at arm’s length, desperate to keep from gaining a reputation. But it never mattered. She got one anyway.

Val shoots a glance at the gaggle of teen girls in Delia’s jeans and Paramore t-shirts. They pretend to be doing anything but gossiping about her. She turns her attention back to her chipping navy nail polish and smiles. Some things never change.

+

Shawn pulls the fabric of his t-shirt from where it clings to his abs and pulls a face.

“I’m fuckin’ drenched,” he mumbles. Seth nods, squinting against the sun. They’ve just come off their first set playing to about seven people from the Smartpunk stage.

“California is hot,” Francis whines. Shawn beans him with a plastic water bottle. Francis grabs it out of the dust and throws it back, but it goes wide when he gets distracted by something behind Shawn.

Shawn turns his head to look. Through the straggling crowd, he sees Raf and Val Moreno at the Streets of Gold merch tent looking like the casual rock gods they are. Shawn’s smile is shy and cornered on either side by a blush.

“Should we go say hi?” murmurs Vince, their guitar and drum tech.

Shawn winces. “Well we shouldn’t stand here and strategize about it, that’s fucking weird.”

But they do stand there for another minute or two, quietly hoping Raf will spot them and wave them over so they feel like the kids getting invited to sit at the cool lunch table. But he’s embroiled in what looks like a heated discussion with his sister, so they slouch off for a break under the merch tent with Dan and his battery operated fans.

Shawn’s a little relieved. He’s not sure he can be around either Moreno twin without making an ass of himself. He knows Raf, yes, they’ve been first openers on more recent Streets shows when they’ve come through Toronto, but that doesn’t make him any less of a total fucking dweeb around him, given how long he’s been a Streets fan. And Val, Val he’s never met and probably never should. Shawn’s not bad around girls but he has a funny feeling he’d go full idiot motor-mouth if he got to look deep into the soulful brown eyes of Valentina Moreno. Maybe he can go the whole summer without talking to her? Is that possible?

He contemplates the likelihood under the tent with his eyes closed. He hears some female giggling and looks up. There are about six 14-year-old girls staring at them shyly.

“Hey, Shawn!” one of them greets, shoved forward by the others to be their mouthpiece despite the shakiness in her voice.

Shawn beams and stands, looming over them. “Hey, guys! Did you catch the set earlier?”

The leader of the group looks annoyed. “No, only Carly did,” she gestures to a petite Latina girl behind her who looks horrified that Shawn Mendes knows her name now, “We were stuck at soccer camp until noon and couldn’t get here.”

Shawn ducks slightly to seem less large and intimidating. He looks around a girl’s pink hair to catch Carly’s eye. “Did you have fun?”

Carly blinks and clears her throat. Her friends look awe-struck. “Yes. Yeah, you guys were great.”

Shawn bobs his head. “Thank you. You guys wanna take a picture?”

They agree and hand him a little pink Razr. They gather around him as he squats partially to fit them all in the frame. He turns the phone around and expertly positions it to snap the photo. With hugs and a couple purchased t-shirts later, they’re off to bask in the glow.

“Shawn Mendes: setting teenage loins on fire since 1988.”

Shawn smirks at Francis. “Are you jealous about the 14-year-olds, Frank? Do we need to have a talk?”

The band guffaws. Francis’s face goes flat. “Fuck off, you know I love older women.”

“I do,” Shawn chuckles, shaking his head.

“This year is the year I marry Hayley Williams,” Francis reminds them all. Shawn tips his head back and lets his eyes shut again, resting up before the first barbecue of the tour.

“This is the year I fuck Bigfoot,” Seth chirps.

It’s the last thing Shawn remembers hearing before he drifts off in a nice post-show nap.

+

Val can’t really explains the bubble of nerves she feels as she sits in the front lounge of the Streets bus with her make up bag. She’s freshly showered and applying a cat eye when Raf steps out of the bunk area with a resigned smile.

“You look pretty,” he comments half-heartedly.

“Don’t sound so bummed about it,” she chuckles, sparing him a glance as she raises her eyeliner wand with a steady hand.

“I’m not. Sorry. I’m just… I’m sorry about earlier. I was being weird,” Raf mumbles, collapsing into the booth seat across the table from her.

Val gamely lowers her hand to focus on him. She sweeps a wave of almost too shiny stick-straight hair over her shoulder and regards him carefully. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not. It’s not your shit. And I always make it your shit,” he sighs.

Val bites into her lower lip, flipping through her lip gloss options. After a moment, she looks up at him. “It’s just… it’s been a couple years, Raf, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Raf swallows and Val feels his embarrassment in her gut like it’s hers. She winces.

“I don’t know why I still can’t be around her. I feel like such a fucking kid,” he rasps. He nervously adjusts the Taking Back Sunday snapback on his dark curls and huffs.

“It’s not like there’s a rule. You and Bea, it was fuckin’ complicated. And it was so hot and cold and on and off for a long time. You’re not a robot, you can’t turn it off because you want to. And even if she pretends she can, she can’t.”

He looks up. “Did she say something to you?”

“Jesus Christ, Raf, stop. I’m talking to you now as your sister, not as Bea’s friend. I cannot be your informant or your go-between. We’re not doing that again.”

Raf held up his hands. “Right. Yes. I’m sorry. Old habits. Cool. We’re good.”

Raf stands and heads for the door without another word. Val opens her mouth to stop him but his long legs carry him faster than her brain can come up with something comforting to say. She wrinkles her nose and pouts at the magnifying mirror.

With any luck, she’d get her hands on enough Jack Daniels not to be worrying about keeping 15 yards between her brother and his sometimes-girlfriend. But if she wants any booze at all, she’d better leave now.

She follows stragglers from the bus grounds to where they’ve set up the grills and stereos. There’s something romantic about wading through trampled grass, following bonfire smoke and pop-punk to get to where she wants to be. And when she arrives, she’s welcomed with open arms and open containers of booze.

The New Found Glory guys and Bea pounce on her first, doling out hugs and swigs of gin. Val feels her heart pounding against Ryan Key of Yellowcard’s chest as she hugs him because she’ll never be fully over that little crush. She flips off the Streets band and crew as they holler at her from a stack of strategically placed hay bales. They’re surrounded by a younger band she doesn’t recognize.

She gathers a plate of food, high fives Kevin Lyman and snags a beer before she strolls over to join her family. As she stands over them, she sees a familiar face.

“Val, these are the Forefront guys. Guys, this is my sister Val,” Raf introduces, pointing out Francis, Bobby, Seth, Vince, Carter and Shawn.

Val slides on a smooth grin and plops down next to Shawn, Blue Jays skateboarding boy from this morning. Because when life hands you lemons.

“Hi,” she murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes at him when his eyes go wide. He chokes slightly on a bite of hot dog and mumbles “hi” through a mouthful of bread.

She’s undeterred. From this close, she can see the little freckles on the base of his neck and the way his sideburns are curly like the rest of his hair. It’s refreshing – curls aren’t a thing in the scene. It makes him stand out. That and the foot of height he has on anyone that comes near him.

She’s heard of Forefront from Raf. She knows some of their music. They opened a few shows after her tenure as Streets’ drummer, so her familiarity is limited. She likes his voice, though. It’s the kind of voice that makes you want to close your eyes and live in it for a while, let it take you somewhere. She has half a mind to close her eyes and just listen to him talk now.

But he’s gone quiet. She wonders if maybe she threw him off by planting right next to him. Val knows as both a confident woman and a female scene drummer she can be an intimidating presence. She doesn’t so much mind that, but it does throw off her game sometimes.

She drinks a little harder. He does the same. As he does, his body, previously turned away and closed off from her, opens up. He starts looking over at her when she laughs at something Francis said or when she makes her sly cracks that have the whole group roaring. Just once or twice she catches him staring just a little too long. If their faces weren’t bronzed out by the light of the fire, she’d catch his heavy blush.

Some of the group breaks off until it’s Francis, Shawn, Val and Naveen sitting around listening to Francis blabber over blink-182’s Take Off Your Pants And Jacket in the background. Shawn and Val are both picking at straw from a hay bale when the song changes to First Date.

Their heads shoot up like meercats. Val looks at Shawn with a grin. He goes noticeably pink at noticing the same song she has.

“I love Take Off Your Pants,” she confesses, “It was like, a turning point album for me.”

Shawn nods eagerly, tossing his straw aside and licking his lips. She watches the black ring bob distractingly. “Totally. God, Stay Together For the Kids? So fucking good.”

“Oh my god, legendary,” she agrees, pressing her lips into a gentle smile.

He gets his first good look at her for the night. He’s been trying to keep his eyes down, trying not to be weird, but she’s a little magnetic.

He notices her long, rounded fingernails and wonders if she wore them that long when she was still drumming. He wonders if she straightens her dark hair or if it’s that shiny all on its own. He looks at the fullness of her lips and imagines what flavor her lipgloss is. He stops himself when he realizes he’s thinking about how her flared hips would feel under his hands when she’s dancing to Beverly Hills by Weezer.

Now, though, since they’re talking, he has invitation to look at her. She’s a classic kind of beauty with a soft round face, deep, dark eyes and cupid’s bow-shaped lips. She’s kinda tall for a girl at 5’8” but still petite enough to make you wonder how she hits those drums so hard. Or, used to.

She’s beautiful. She’s been beautiful for years. He knows because he’s been a Streets fan since he saw them by happenstance at a little club in Toronto when he was a moody 14-year-old. They had only just gotten signed and were opening for Bayside at the time. He remembers quirking his eyebrows when she took the stage, that little hint of a smirk on her face, that look of “just you watch.”

She plays hard. She’s a damn good drummer. Naveen is a decent replacement, but Val Moreno was special. She is special. And she’s pulling on his hand.

“C’mon, Mendes, I need a refill,” she announces, tugging on him as she turns toward the tables of booze. His eyes fall to the snug back pockets of her hiphuggers. He licks his lips again and follows willingly.

“What can I make you?” he offers gallantly, holding his arms out to the bottles of booze.

Val’s eyebrows lift as she leans against a lamppost. “What is this, “Cocktail?””

Shawn grins at the reference and ducks his head. “I’m a bartender when we’re not on tour. Try me.”

This time Val’s the one licking her lips at the implication. Trying him doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend time.

“Whiskey sour,” she requests with a nod. He beams at the proffered challenge and reaches for a fresh solo cup, expertly whipping up her drink the way he makes them at The Copper Bar back home in Toronto.

He hands it to her with a raised eyebrow. She takes a sip, watching him as he watches her. She approves.

“That’s good. You know your way around a bottle.”

“I do what I can,” he says without a hint of false modesty. Her heart smacks against her ribs. She fights to soothe it as he leads her not back toward their friends but around the perimeter of the barbecue.

“So. First day. You shitting yourself yet?” she asks.

Shawn laughs and adjusts the backwards cap on his head nervously. She blinks and thinks of Raf for a flash of a second.

“Today was rough,” he admits, “We’ve been opening for some cool bands so we’ve had a lot of kids to play for recently. When they’re not trapped in front of you, when they can just walk past your stage to go catch Pennywise on main, I mean yeah, it’s disheartening.”

Val knows the feeling well but gets the sense the sage older sister vibe wouldn’t be appropriate here given how not subtly he’s brushing their hands together as they walk.

“I actually heard people talking about your set today,” she says. He lights up. She brightens up right with him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Some girls at my table said you were playing a keyboard. They acted like they’d never seen one before.”

Shawn shrugs. “I like the keyboard. Feels a little elevated sometimes. It’s different.”

Val slugs back another sip of whiskey and notices how light she feels. She hopes if she starts to float away he’ll catch her.

They make another turn around the perimeter and their cups are empty by the time they get there so they refill. By the time they come back again, Shawn is stumbling lazily, holding Val’s hand high as she twirls toward the table to grab a beer. She’s singing along, and not at all badly, to Pardon Me by Weezer. He watches her with a close-mouthed smile and sparkling eyes and he’s half in love and the other half is three sheets to the wind.

When they reach the table, she drops his hand and before he can feel dejected, she hands him a beer and drags him away from the rabble and the music and the cloud of weed and cheap booze toward the buses. It��s not subtle, it’s public, people are definitely taking note of who’s skulking off with who, and Val seems to pay it no mind. Shawn swings his head back to look at what they’re leaving. He avoids Raf’s watchful gaze and instead stares at Francis who looks a little impressed and a little fucking flabbergasted.

“Do you like touring, Shawn?” she asks, continuing to drag him by the hand like she knows exactly where they’re going. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t.

“I love touring,” he says honestly, hiccupping over the last word. She giggles and turns, walking backwards up the hill with a beer in one hand and his hand in the other. He wants to memorize this moment.

Val Moreno isn’t just looking at him. She doesn’t just know his name. She’s dragging him up a hill to god knows where with beers and it occurs to him there’s no bus call tonight because they’re only driving to Ventura in the morning. What the fuck is going on.

She’s plopping into cross-legged position on a patch of mud. He notices that she doesn’t seem to do much very gracefully, other than hit the drums. He lowers next to her and she releases his hand.

“I like touring sometimes. Other times it makes me… crazy,” she confides, narrowing her eyes at the fairgrounds below being broken down by venue staff. She blinks slowly. He watches her wet her lips and sip her beer.

“It can be a lot,” he agrees softly, unsure of how to answer. He finds himself wanting to be helpful to her in some way, in whatever way she might need.

He gets like this around girls sometimes. He wants to be whatever they want him to be.

She ignores his confused glance and drops her cryptic topic. Instead, she stares out at the floodlights painting the grounds pale colors against the charcoal southern California sky.

“Do you miss drumming?” he whispers.

She doesn’t blink, doesn’t hesitate. “Every day.”

He’s quiet for another minute. “Why did you stop?”

She looks at him warmly. He feels it down to his toes. She puts her beer down and turns to face him, shuffling between his bent knees. She plants her manicured hands on the tears in his black jeans and looks him over carefully. He feels himself go a little hard against his thigh under her study.

“Val?” he whispers.

“Hmm?” she hums, looking up from his impressive arms to his even more impressive face.

“You gonna kiss me?” he croaks, his mouth going dry.

Valentina grins wide. “You’re goddamn right I am.”

She doesn’t so much kiss him as maul him. She launches into his body, securing her hands by his where they’re planted behind him to hold them up. She plunders his lips, sucking his lower lip into her mouth, teasing the piercing to make him moan. She licks hungrily into his mouth. He pushes off his hands to pull himself up right and hold her tight against him, wanting to feel her chest against his, see if their hearts were pounding in time, if they were as in synch as their lips.

She sinks her fingers into his hair and tugs. His body tightens along with his grip on her. He whimpers loud into her mouth, sucking gently at her tongue. She cards her fingers through his hair like she’s desperate for something but he’s not sure what it could be because he’s given her everything he has in this kiss. He bites down on her lower lip when she makes to pull away to his neck.

She tastes like whiskey and beer and her hair is impossibly softer than it looks as he plays with the ends, the fingers of his other hand flirting with the hem of her shirt. She wiggles in his arms until his fingertips nudge underneath. His hands wander up over the perfect caramel skin of her back, over the band of her lacy bra, brushing the downy hairs on the nape of her neck. He thinks about lifting her arms and pulling off her tee but he resists, dropping a hand down to slide into her back pocket instead.

She gasps a little into his mouth at his teasing squeeze. She nips at his lips playfully, giggling into the kiss in a way she hasn’t with anyone in a long time. She knows she’s drunk, they both are, but this feels like its own intoxication.

She pulls back slightly to breathe, tucking her hair behind her ears. Shawn’s lips are swollen and his pupils are blown out. She flicks gently at his bottom lip with her tongue, enjoying the way his breathing hitches whenever she uses her tongue on him. She pecks at his lips, wriggling back into his hand as he experimentally massages her ass through her skinny jeans.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he hisses, grunting when she drops her lips to the freckles she noticed on his neck earlier.

Val smiles against the gently tanned skin, sinking her teeth in to hear him yelp.

“Oh, fucking Christ,” he mutters, gathering her in closer, unwilling to move his hands from her ass.

“Wanna leave a mark,” she murmurs, tonguing his throat. He nods without hesitation.

“Please, fuck, yes,” he rasps, already picturing how it’ll look in the mirror tomorrow morning, how long it might last on his sensitive skin.

Val nibbles and sucks like she’s got a formula in place and maybe she does but he definitely doesn’t care. It feels fucking good. It feels even better, somehow, when she leans back to survey her work and smiles. She likes claiming him.

“So sexy, Shawn,” she whispers into his lips through another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He groans in agreement. Her teeth bump up against his piercing and she pulls back to lick at it playfully.

“This is sexy, too,” she comments, pecking at the corner of his mouth, feeling the enamel dig into her lip.

“Yeah?” he pants, blinking his eyes open to see her looking at him with a Cheshire cat smile and hooded lids. He licks the taste of her off his lower lip.

“I like piercings,” she tells him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with her finger. It quivers under her touch. He keeps his eyes level with hers.

“What… what else do you like?” he nearly gasps. Her eyebrows lift.

“You wanna know what I like, Shawny?”

The low tremor of his voice has him nodding eagerly. He squeezes her ass again for emphasis. “Yeah.”

“I like your hands on my ass. And I like your tongue in my mouth,” she replies smoothly, hooking her fingers back into his curls and tilting his head to stroke her tongue against his.

He moans loud, obscenely, and tips back into the dirt with her on top of him. Her weight is comforting somehow, and the motion kicks up a breeze through her hair, sending a distinctly citrusy scent at him to overwhelm him further.

He hears himself speaking but isn’t sure why he feels the need to, especially since he’s literally talking into her mouth. “You smell good.”

She giggles and their teeth clash and Shawn feels a shiver rip up his back. It’s so casually intimate, feels couple-y and sweet, it makes Shawn a little dizzy. He grunts and tries not to rut into her like a teenager since she’s just lying on top of him and not making any moves to grind against him or take his clothes off. Which he’s fine with, he can totally handle himself. The raging hard-on in his cage-like jeans tells him otherwise, but fuck it. When’s he going to have this chance again?

Val likes feeling him solid and warm underneath her, between her and the briny-smelling dirt. She’s just interested in kissing him, in exploring the way their lips fit together and the noises he makes when she flicks at the tip of his tongue or scratches at the curls on the back of his neck. He’s not pushing her either, which is nice. He’s not yanking at her shirt or shoving his hands down her pants. He’s making her feel like he’ll take what he can get from her when she offers it. That’s kinda nice.

The flood lights go out below them. The party is over. The venue is broken down. They both jerk upright when the world around them goes absolutely dark.

Val pants. Shawn sits up with her between his knees. He groans.

“How are we going to get back? We can’t see anything.”

Val winces. “Yeah, bad planning,” She hops up and takes his hand, yanking him to his feet, “C’mon, baby steps.”

They do get back down the hill to where the buses are. It’s not easy, and they both fall a couple times, and by the time they reach the bottom they’re both certainly more sober. He walks her to her bus and swings her hand playfully, feeling like a kid dropping his date off and wondering who’s watching them from the windows as he kisses her goodnight. She gives him one last little peck on his lip ring before sending him away and crawling into her bunk.

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @alone-in-madness @singanddreamanyway @accioalena @randi-eve

[huesofthemorning]

Shopping Time (Butch/Femme JunnaNana)

Characters: Junna, Nana, Futaba, Claudine

Words: 5500

Summary: Junna and Nana have a heart to heart. Futaba and Claudine take them shopping. It’s an adventure.

Featuring Trans!Nana and NB!Junna

Picture of Junna’s and Nana’s outfits!

“Oh my,” Kaoruko said as Junna stepped into the classroom. “Isn’t that an impressive sight?”

Junna paused, eyes flicking between the door and the grinning Kaoruko. Did she dare ask, or did she escape while she still could? Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice. It was dress rehearsal for their two week play of Romeo and Juliet, and as one of the leads, she absolutely couldn’t miss it.

“...Excuse me?” Junna finally asked, bracing herself for the answer.

“I’m talking about your outfit, of course,” Kaoruko said, waving a hand at Junna’s clothing choice. In a two week play, there wasn’t time for Class B to design and sew costumes; instead, each actress was told to wear whatever she owned that fit the role. For Junna, that meant dressing as Romeo.

It hadn’t been a surprise to anyone that Junna had scored a lead role, not in a Shakespeare play. What had been a shock was Hikari snatching the role of Juliet. Most of the class had expected Nana to play opposite Junna in a love story, including Nana herself. Junna had been the one to veto the idea.

“Kagura-san knows Shakespeare better,” Junna had argued, pointedly not looking at Nana. And it was true, to the dismay of the rest of the class. They had to remind Junna and Hikari every single practice session that no one else knew the lines in English, and to please follow the Japanese script. Nana stayed quiet the whole time, standing off to the side with her script dangling from her fingers. It didn’t take long to memorize the handful of lines of a background character.

Junna still had to apologize for that. She found Nana on the other side of the room, watching her with a surprised expression. Junna sent her a small smile before turning back to Kaoruko.

“What about my outfit?” she asked. It was a fairly simple affair, she thought. Dark blue button down shirt, a pair of old jeans, and the school’s standard, white and red gym shoes.

“Well first off, it’s hideous,” Kaoruko said.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Futaba chimed in, joining the pair. The rest of the group was starting to trickle over too, like moths to a flame. Maybe one day that fire would be stoked by something other than the potential for Junna’s embarrassment.

“It’s in character,” Junna argued. “Romeo was a rich teenage boy who liked running around the streets flirting with girls. He would have owned nice clothes, and he would have worn them to impress said girls, but even he wouldn’t have wanted to wear dress pants when walking outside all day, hence he would have--”

“Romeo’s dead,” Futaba said.

“W-well…” Junna stumbled to a halt. “That’s- that’s not relevant, and also not accurate, he was never technically alive in the first place--”

“More importantly,” Kaoruko interrupted, regaining control of the conversation. “I want to know how you did that!” Kaoruko exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Junna’s chest.

“...What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? We’ve had numerous discussions about this, Junna-han! You have the biggest chest in the dorm, and you just walked in flat as a board. What gives!”

“...Oh.” Junna ran a hand down her chest. It wasn’t truly flat, not really, but the shirt was loose enough to mask the little shape there was.

“That is pretty impressive,” Claudine agreed. Maya and Hikari nodded. Nana was still hanging back, just a bit, but she seemed intrigued as well.

“I like it!” Karen announced, bouncing up and down. “You look like a boy! It’s cool!”

Junna rolled her eyes. “It’s just a binder. A compression shirt. It’s nothing special.”

“Why do you own a binder?” Mahiru asked.

“Why not?”

“Um…”

“‘Cause most 17 year old girls don’t own that stuff?” Claudine tried. “Did you buy this for the play?”

“No, of course not. I’ve owned this for years.”

“Junna-han, you’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met.”

“Wait a sec,” Futaba said, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard by the rest of the class. “Is this a boy thing? Like, are you a weird girl, or are you, actually, you know.”

Junna stared blankly at Futaba. It took several seconds for her to realize what Futaba was trying to imply. “Oh. Oh, no. I don’t care.”

“What do you mean, you don’t care?”

Everyone was looking at her in varying states of confusion and concern. Junna sighed. Was it really such a hard concept to grasp?

“Boy or girl,” Junna stated firmly, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t see a difference. I’m Hoshimi Junna. I’m me. That’s all that’s important.”

“Oooooooh!” Karen clapped at the declaration. Mahiru and Hikari shook their heads.

“Fair enough,” Futaba shrugged.

“You’re still a weird person,” Kaoruko decided.

“No weirder than the rest of you,” Junna said. “Now come on, we should start rehearsal.”

She pushed past the group and made her way to the stage. It didn’t bother her, saying that stuff out loud. Junna had made up her mind long ago that if she decided something, she would follow that decision with confidence. She couldn’t move forward if she wavered.

Still, the support of her friends meant more than she would say. It warmed her; lifted a weight of her shoulders. Junna held on that feeling. Memorized it. Then, finally, she let herself acknowledge the thought tingling in the back of her mind:

Nana was frowning the whole time…

Nana was nervous. Nana was nervous about so many things, she didn't know where to begin. Half of them were surely nothing more than her overthinking, repeating tiny thoughts over and over until they snowballed into something too big to ignore. The other half... well, the other half was probably the same, if she was honest. Meaningless little moments that got stuck in her head. She needed to shake them out, needed this lump in her throat to melt, needed to stop being so--

"Nana?"

Nana jumped. Junna's questioning look started to turn into one of concern, and Nana felt her heart drop. She threw on a bright smile, hoping Junna wouldn't notice her trembling lips. "It's fine, it's fine! You startled me, is all. What's up?"

But of course, Junna noticed.

She took a moment to think, tapping her fingers against the desk.  Nana sat on the edge of her bed and waited, trying not to fidget. Junna liked to get her thoughts in order before she spoke, liked to arrange her words so they meant exactly what she wanted them to mean, nothing more, nothing less.

Sometimes, Nana tried to picture what the inside of Junna’s brain must be like. A library, for sure. Shelves and shelves of words, all carefully organized. She imagined Junna walking down the halls, stacks of books rising far above her head, carefully inspecting each and every one.

In contrast, Nana’s head felt like a complete and utter mess. Like a bunch of monkeys wreaking havoc on a grocery store in their search for bananas, and the janitor had quit long ago. Seventeen years of life and an extra fifty on top, and still she could never match Junna. And there the nervousness rose up again like a wave, threatening to drown her:

Was Junna getting bored of her?

Beautiful, intelligent, perfect Junna. Nana knew it was unfair, knew Junna would scold her if she could hear her thoughts, but sometimes Nana wondered if she was worthy to stand next to Junna on stage. After all, Junna hadn’t wanted Nana to play opposite her in Romeo and Juliet. And she had never once mentioned feeling like--

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh?” Nana stared up at Junna, uncomprehending.

Junna took a deep breath and continued. “I should have said this earlier, and I apologize for that too. But… you’re upset that I didn’t want you to play Juliet, right?”

“...Mm.” Nana wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at the floor. “But that’s alright. You love Shakespeare. It’s only natural that you’d want the best person to be your partner, and Hikari-chan is certainly that.”

“It has nothing to do with talent,” Junna said firmly. She sat down in Nana’s chair, reaching for Nana’s hands and holding them tightly in her own, waiting patiently for Nana to look back at her. “It’s nothing to do with talent,” she repeated again when Nana did, gentler this time. “Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy. More than that, it’s a tragedy masquerading as a love story. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want you playing a role in something like that. I don’t want you to play any more tragedies.”

Starlight was a tragedy. Starlight hurt. Nana hadn’t even thought about the pain intrinsic to Romeo and Juliet, the pain she’d have to act out over and over and over again, but Junna… Junna was always looking out for her. Always, always, always.

“Sorry,” Junna said, running her thumbs over Nana’s knuckles as a few tears slipped down Nana’s face. “I’ll explain myself better next time, promise.”

“Thank you,” Nana whispered. If she were better with words, she’d say all the many things she was thankful for, but for now she left it at that and trusted Junna to understand.

Junna smiled. “Good now?” she asked, squeezing Nana’s hands. “Or is there something else?”

Nana felt her chest tighten. There was something else, of course there was something else, but it was still too new. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to risk ruining the balance Junna had created.

Balance. How could she maintain it? Junna had given it to her, so she must give it back.

“You first,” Nana said. “Is there anything you want to talk about first?”

“So,” Futaba said, hanging upside down off Claudine’s bed. “Junna, huh?”

Claudine snorted. “What a loser. That stage kiss with Hikari? Worst thing I’ve ever seen. The teacher should have let me demonstrate, I could absolutely do better!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re better than all of us at everything. But that’s not what I was talking about. What’d you think about Junna’s little speech?”

“That gender stuff? Seemed like pretty standard Hoshimi Junna to me. I don’t think she gives a shit about anything not stage related.” Claudine turned a page in her fashion magazine, frowning as she saw the cost of a pair of glittery heels. Not that she couldn’t afford them, of course, but what kind of statement would they make? She didn’t want someone like Tendo Maya to think she was trying too hard. “Or Banana related,” she added as afterthought. “The stage and Banana: her two passions.”

“Sounds about right. Hey, isn’t Banana trans too?”

“Probably. Not that I’ve ever asked her, of course.”

“Kaoruko keeps complaining that Banana never joins her in the bath.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. No one in their right mind would join Kaoruko in the bath.”

“Yeah…” Futaba sighed. She slid farther off the bed, hair brushing the floor. Claudine had talked her ear off about clothes earlier, and now, caught up in it, she was scrolling through pictures of high tops on her phone. “You know, I bet Junna’d look pretty good with more boyish clothes.”

“You’re just upset that your attempts at making Tendo Maya butch failed.”

“No, I’d say you’re the one upset about that.”

“Hah? Excusez moi?”

“You want to see Tendo wear a tux just as much as the rest of us, don’t deny it.”

Claudine stayed resolutely silent, flipping faster through her magazine. She didn’t need to see Futaba’s face to know she was smirking. “You realize,” she finally said, refusing to let Futaba win the conversation, “if you want Junna to be your backup butch, you’re going to have to dress her yourself. She has 0 sense of style.”

“Hey, I’ll do it. At least she won’t make me spend an hour in the lingerie section like Kaoruko does.” Futaba pulled herself onto the bed, thinking through the idea. “That could be good, actually, taking her shopping. Show that we’re supportive friends.”

“Are we though?”

“We’re supportive.”

“But are we friends?”

Futaba shrugged. “Probably?”

“Hm.” Claudine closed her magazine and looked up at Futaba. “If you’re making Junna butch, I want to make Banana femme. With those legs of hers, she could rock a miniskirt.”

“Hell yeah. Shopping trip it is then.”

“If we call this a double date, will Kaoruko hire a hitman to kill me?”

“Would you care if she did?”

“I dare her to.”

“Then sure, double date it is.”

“Is there something else?” Junna asked. It was rarely just one thing with Nana, Junna had learned. Nana had too many layers. Too many thoughts all piled up on top of each other. It took time for Junna to untangle them all.

After a moment, Nana replied: “You first. Is there anything you want to talk about first?”

That was a yes, then. A yes, Nana did have something, but she didn’t want to bring it up, and she was hoping Junna would get distracted and forget. If Junna was smart, she’d say no. She’d say that she was fine, and start coaxing the problem out of Nana. If she was smarter, she’d say yes. She’d say yes, she did have something, and they would talk it out and reach a mutual understanding. Surely it would be better for both of them. Surely it was the right decision. The smart decision.

Sometimes, Junna hated being smart.

“Actually…” she began, hesitantly, unused to opening up like this.

Nana seemed surprised too. “Actually?” she pressed, leaning forward.

Junna took a steadying breath. “I wanted to talk about what I said in class today. Or rather, I think I should, just to… to clear up any confusion. If you had any.”

Nana froze, and it clicked for Junna, then, that this was likely the second thing Nana wanted to talk about. She should have guessed it earlier. In that case, talking about it was for the best, she told herself. Two birds with one stone.

“I’m not… confused about it,” Nana said slowly. “If that’s the way you feel, then that’s the way you feel! And I’ll support you! But...”

“But?” Junna asked, holding her relief at bay until she heard the rest of the story.

“But…” Nana chewed her lip, staring off into the distance. Finally she gave a sheepish smile and said, “you never told me about it.”

Ah.

Now Junna understood.

What a fool she was.

“Not- not that you had to, of course!” Nana was quick to add. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to! I just would have thought, since I’m…”

“That’s why, actually,” Junna said, finally relaxing. Nana wasn’t upset with her. Not that Junna would have expected her to be, but it was always better to hear it said. Now all she had to do was explain her thoughts. That wasn’t a problem. “For you, the distinction between being a girl or a boy is important, right? If someone called you a boy, you’d be upset. And rightfully so! But for me, it’s meaningless. I could go my whole life being a called a boy, and I doubt I’d care. So while we’re similar in some ways, in other ways we’re completely different. I didn’t want you to think that because I felt my way, you had to feel that way too. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” Nana frowned, thinking it over.

“Make sense?” Junna asked. It was completely logical, in her opinion. Whether or not she was supposed to be this logical over a decision with emotional impact was a question she wasn’t going to answer.

“Yep!” Nana said, bright and shining once again. “Junna-chan is always looking out for me, huh?”

“Of course!” Junna was grinning now too, unable to help herself when faced with the sun that was Nana. “I’m the class president, after all!”

“You’re the president of my heart,” Nana said with a terrible attempt at a serious expression.

Junna snorted, reaching forward to poke Nana in the stomach. “I think that’s the worst pickup line yet.”

“Aw, Junna-chan! Well, what if I just pick you up then?”

Nana’s hands were on her waist before she could react, pulling her into the bed. Junna was laughing; Nana was, too, both of them giddy with the relief that comes after important discussions. Everything was fine now, Junna thought as Nana pulled her into a kiss. There was nothing more to worry about.

“Rise and shine, losers, we’re going shopping!” Claudine shouted as she threw the door open. “Come on, up! Up!”

“Believe me, Saijo-san, I would if I could,” Junna said, her voice muffled by Nana’s arm thrown over her face. It was Sunday morning, and instead of her usual Sunday morning breakfast routine, Nana had opted for crawling into bed with Junna and cuddling close. An hour later and she had managed to roll herself sideways across the bed, half on top of Junna and her legs halfway to the floor. Claudine bit back her laughter at the sight.

“Should I take a picture, or?”

“You can do whatever you want if you get her off me.”

“Ah, young love.” Claudine snapped a photo of Junna’s annoyed glare, then went to free her from her banana scented prison. She grabbed hold of Nana’s shoulders, rolling her off Junna and wincing as Nana rolled right onto the floor. “Oops. She’s a heavy sleeper, huh?”

“In all senses of the word.” Junna sighed in relief and sat up, rubbing her stiff neck. “What did you say about shopping?”

“Oh, right! Futaba and I are taking you two clothes shopping.”

“...Why?”

“Because we want to.”

“That’s not a very convincing argument.”

“Hey, without me you’d still be trapped in bed. You owe me now.”

“Fair enough.” Junna frowned at Nana, poking her with her foot. “Nana. Are you seriously still asleep?”

“Maybe,” came the mumbled reply. Nana blearily opened her eyes, smiling as the first thing she saw was Junna’s face. “Good morning, Junna-chan!”

“You almost smothered me again, you know.”

“That’s because Junna-chan is really comfy!”

Junna let out a heavy sigh. “We’ll be down soon, Saijo-san.”

Looking at Nana’s sleepy face, Claudine wasn’t quite sure she believed them. Well, if anyone was trustworthy in this dorm, it was Junna. “Don’t take too long, we have a lot of shopping to do! Oh, and make sure you bring your binder.”

Junna looked at her in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Are we-” Nana yawned, blinking a few a times to wake herself up. “Are we doing a play?”

“No, Futaba wants to dress Junna like a boy.”

“Oooh, good idea! Boyish Junna-chan is cute!”

“This is because of what I said a couple days ago, isn’t it?” Junna asked, already knowing the answer.

“Could be,” Claudine answered, shrugging. “Or it’s Futaba being lonely ‘cause she has no other butch in the dorm. I still haven’t figured out which it is.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t mind wearing it, so that’s fine.”

“Fantastique!”

Nana hummed the whole way to the store, holding Junna’s hand and swinging it back and forth as they walked.

“You seem happy,” Junna commented. “Do you really enjoy clothes shopping this much?”

“Mmmm, maybe? I think it will be fun! It’s like a date!”

“A date…”

“We’re splitting you two up, you know,” Futaba said. “You won’t see each other until we’re done.”

“Ehh? I wanted to see Junna-chan try on clothes…” Nana pouted, shoulders drooping.

“Careful, Banana,” Claudine said. “Keep this up and you’ll reach Kaoruko levels of clinginess.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m clingy?”

Claudine snorted; Junna covered her mouth, trying desperately not to laugh. Futaba didn’t even make the attempt. “Boy, Banana, have I got some news for you!”

“Eh?” Nana looked around blankly, not understanding. Junna patted her arm.

“We’ll talk later.”

“Okay?”

“Don’t worry, Banana,” Claudine said, hooking an arm through Nana’s and pulling her away from Junna. “I’ll take good care of you. Now come on!”

Claudine led the way into the clothing store and headed straight for the dresses, towing Nana along.

“I’m a little worried,” Junna said, following Futaba to the opposite side.

“Come on, clothes shopping isn’t that bad.”

“No, not that. Nana. She gets a little… strange sometimes. When she’s on her own.”

“Eh, I’m sure it’s fine. Kuroko’s with her.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Junna stopped at a rack of polos, fingering the material. “So. What are we looking for, exactly?”

“I dunno. Something cool looking.”

“You don’t know? Wasn’t this your idea in the first place?”

Futaba shrugged. “Hey, I only said it would be a good idea. I never promised good execution.”

“I expected better of you.”

“That’s your problem, Junna. You expect too much of us. You forget we’re all idiots.”

“I wish I could forget.” Junna rifled through a rack of shirts, frowning at the options. With no idea of what she was looking for, she pulled out the first thing that seemed close to her size. “Something like this?”

“Nah. Too feminine.”

“We’re in the men’s section.”

“So?”

“...Okay,” Junna finally said, giving up on making sense of this whole adventure. She put the shirt back, drumming her fingers on the rack as she looked around. “Oh! I know!”

Futaba followed her across the store. After a moment it was clear what Junna was heading for; Futaba couldn’t believe she hadn’t predicted it. With how much of a nerd Junna was, she should have been preparing for it the whole way there.

Junna turned to her with a grin, holding up her find. “How about--”

“Absolutely not.”

“But it’s boyish--”

“It’s ugly.”

“I disagree--”

“Junna, if you want to wear a sweater vest, you’re going to have to beat me in a fist fight.”

Junna lowered the argyle monstrosity and sized Futaba up. “I bet I could take you.”

“Yeah? You wanna go?” Futaba took a step towards Junna, fist raised. Junna conceded immediately.

“On second thought, maybe not.”

“Kuro-chan, Kuro-chan!” Nana bounced over to Claudine, a bundle of clothes in her arms.

Claudine looked up from the rack of dresses she'd been inspecting, eager to see what Nana had come back with. "Oh, nice! What'd you find?"

"A bunch of stuff! Let's see..." Nana held up the first shirt. It was white, a big green frog pasted right in the middle. Claudine frowned. "Isn't it cute? And then there's this one," Nana continued, holding up a pair of dark green pants. A few small frogs decorated the pockets. "I think they'd look good together!"

"Banana, I said we were getting you a dress," Claudine said. "Also, this is the 7th frog item so far. Where are you finding these?"

"What do you mean? They're really easy to spot! But don't worry, I found a dress too!" Nana showed off her last find, a yellow dress with ruffled sleeves and a frog shaped pocket. It was cute, Claudine admitted, except for one major problem:

"Banana, that's a dress for a literal five year old."

"Yep! I found it in the kid's section!"

"Why were you in the kid's section? We're shopping for you!"

Nana pouted, holding the dress tight to her chest. "But the kid's section has the most frog stuff."

"And you can buy all the froggy kid stuff you want in ten years when you and Junna have a million children. But right now, we're trying to make you look hot. So put that back!"

Nana reluctantly agreed, returning the clothing to their original spots. She made a mental note to come back later.

"Much better," Claudine said when Nana returned. "Now try this on." She shoved a polka dot blue dress at Nana and pushed her towards the dressing room.

"I don't know," Nana said, "it doesn't have any frogs on it."

"Does everything you own have to have frogs?"

Nana considered the question for a moment. "No," she finally decided. "It could have bananas instead."

"Absolutely not! Too much yellow will clash with your hair. Trust me, I know from experience."

"If you say so... Why are we trying to make me hot again?"

"Because the fact that you don't dress to your potential is a crime against humanity. Now shush! Go try on that dress! And while you do, I'm going to find you some lingerie."

"Oh!" Nana said as Claudine closed the door on her. "See if they have any frogs--"

"No."

"Here, try this," Futaba said, handing Junna a pair of sweatpants. Junna sighed as she took them, heading back into the changing room for what had to be the 10th time.

"Have you figured out your criteria for good pants yet?"

"Yeah. Whatever looks the most butch."

"That's not very helpful." Junna emerged a moment later, looking hopefully at Futaba. "Good?" They felt nice, at the very least. Junna had never been one for sweatpants, but she'd wear them for the rest of her life if it meant they could move on.

"Nah," Futaba said, shaking her head and crushing Junna's hopes. "The color's all wrong."

"They're black."

"There's lots of different blacks."

"You know," Junna said, ignoring that statement and taking the next pair of black pants Futaba handed her, "if your goal is to make me butch, won't that ruin your Sailor Moon theory?"

Futaba grinned. "God, I love our Sailor Moon theory."

The two of them had spent hours hashing it out a few weeks back: between the nine of them and the nine senshi in Sailor Moon, who would match who? It was the most important conversation of their life. And a surprisingly easy one, too, aside from the infamous Uranus/Neptune dispute.

"So do I," Junna said from the changing room. "But my point still stands: your sole reasoning for you being Uranus was that you were the butchest of the group. Yet here you are, trying to make me more butch."

"What, are you saying you're gonna take my title? No offense, Junna, but I think I'm safe."

"Probably," Junna agreed, showing off the next pair of pants. Another no from Futaba. Junna sighed. "I still say butchness isn't the right metric though. Tendo-san fits the role better."

"And like I said: she doesn't have a motorcycle."

"She has everything else though! The talent, the distantness, the mild disdain for people lesser than her--"

"Doesn't matter. Not unless she starts calling Karen 'kitten'."

"You don't call her that either."

"I could start."

"I think she's more of a dog."

"Don't be a smartass, Mercury. Hey- those ones look pretty good."

"Do you think so?" Junna spun around, showing off the pants from every angle. They felt the same as all the others, but if Futaba was happy, she'd take it.

"Sure. Why not."

"What do you mean, why not? We've been at this for forever, and that's the best response you have?"

"I mean, they're just the same as all the others."

Junna stared at her in shock. "Wait, wait! If they were all the same, why did you make me try on fifteen of them!?"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep going," Futaba said, grinning at Junna's frustrated groan.

"I hate you."

“Mercury doesn’t know how to hate.”

“Don’t worry, she’s a quick learner.”

"You're a disaster," Claudine said, watching in awe as Nana stumbled around.

"Well, I've never really worn heels before-- woah!" Nana wobbled her way into the nearest shoe rack, grabbing it for balance and nearly knocking it over in the process.

"Unbelievable. I’m talking to our teacher; we need to add this to our curriculum.” Claudine took hold of Nana’s arm, pulling her over to the chair. Nana sighed gratefully.

“Is walking in heels really that important?”

“Bien sûr! Of course! How are you going to be femme if you can’t walk in heels?”

“I don’t really care if I’m femme though… You and Kaoruko-chan do a much better job at that than me!”

“Hah! Kaoruko! You’re not a true femme until you’ve walked down the streets of Paris in five inch heels!”

“Okay?”

“All I’m saying is that I’m a better femme than Kaoruko.”

Nana hummed absentmindedly, looking around at the mass of shoes Claudine had collected. “Do any of these have shorter heels? I don’t think I could match your five inches! But I could maybe do two?”

“Two inches barely counts as a heel. But I guess it’ll do. You’re tall enough anyways.” Claudine rummaged through the pile, pulling out a pair of pink shoes. “Here, this will match the dress we found.”

“Oh, cute!” Nana slipped the shoes on and stood, smiling as she found her balance.

Claudine nodded in approval. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say something was cute that wasn’t Junna or frog related.”

“I think lots of things are cute! Junna-chan and frogs are just really really cute.”

“Yeah? What else is cute?”

“Hmm.” Nana tapped her chin, grinning slyly. “The way you were saying Maya-chan’s name in your sleep the other day, after you fell asleep on the couch?”

Claudine turned red. “Th-that! That definitely didn’t happen! You’re making that up!”

“Correct!”

“Huh?”

“What I really think is cute is Kuro-chan’s embarrassed face!”

Claudine stared up at Nana, mouth hanging open. “You…! You’re the worst of the group sometimes, you know that?”

Nana simply laughed, twirling around in her heels. She did the move so neatly that Claudine was forced to wonder if all her earlier wobbling had been an act. It had happened before: Nana liked to stay in the middle of the pack during their dance lessons, but on the rare occasions Claudine caught her practicing on her own, she flew through the steps better than Maya could. Looking at Nana’s bright grin, Claudine had the feeling she’d been tricked again.

“How do you manage to be just as frustrating as her?”

“Hm?”

Claudine sighed. “Never mind. Let’s go meet up with Futaba and Junna. It’s time to show you off!”

“Oh, good,” Junna said as Claudine and Nana walked up, “you’re both alive.”

“Junna-chan!” Nana bounded over, giving Junna a hug. Junna rolled her eyes and patted her on the back.

“Did you think we’d kill each other or something?” Claudine asked.

“I figured either she’d kill you with all the frog stuff she found, or you’d kill her to stop all frogs.”

“It came pretty close.”

“Junna and I almost got in a fight,” Futaba said. Nana looked over in surprise.

“We did not,” Junna protested.

“You challenged me!”

“That- It was a statement, that’s all!”

“It better have been,” Claudine said, “cause there’s no way you’d survive a fight with Futaba. Or anyone, for that matter.”

Junna pouted, crossing her arms. “I’d do okay against Kagura.”

“With her knife?”

“Don’t worry Junna-chan, I can protect you!”

“...Let’s go try on those clothes.”

Nana emerged from the dressing room first. She was wearing a knee length pink dress with matching pink heels. Frilly white socks and white belt completed the outfit. Nana gave a little twirl, the dress spinning around her. Futaba and Claudine clapped.

“We went with a sleeveless dress to show off her arms,” Claudine explained.

“Good choice.” Futaba high fived her.

“You look nice,” Junna said, stepping out of her dressing room and smiling up at Nana. “You should wear dresses more often. They suit you.”

Nana beamed. “Junna-chan looks super good too!” She patted her dress, frowning when she remembered its lack of pockets. “Ah- I don’t have my phone...”

“That’s fine. Our camera crew over there has it covered.” Junna nodded her head at Futaba and Claudine, who were indeed busy taking a multitude of photos.

“Come on, Jun!” Claudine called. “Strike a pose!”

Junna sighed and turned properly towards her, sticking her hands in her pockets. She was wearing the black sweatpants Futaba had tormented her with, a blue varsity jacket with white sleeves, and blue and white vans. Futaba came over and stuck a black and red snapback on her head.

“There. Look complete! Feeling butch now?”

“Sure?”

“That’s the spirit!”

Nana draped her arms over Junna’s shoulders and rested her chin on Junna’s head. “This was fun!”

“...It was,” Junna reluctantly agreed. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“Consider it a thank you for absorbing Banana’s frog obsession so the rest of you don’t have to deal with it,” Claudine said.

“Don’t worry, Kuro-chan! One day you’ll find your own frog princess, and then you’ll understand.”

“Banana, that’s terrifying.”

“Does that mean Junna’s your frog princess?” Futaba asked.

“Yes!”

“Make up your minds,” Junna said, frowning. “Am I supposed to be a princess or butch?”

Futaba crossed her arms, thinking. “You know, I don’t think you’re either. I think you’re eternally just a nerd.”

“Can I wear my sweater vest then?”

“No.”

[empounce]

Brock Rumlow x Reader

Chapter 27

Chapter 1 .  Chapter 2 . Chapter 3 . Chapter 4 . Chapter 5 . Chapter 6 . Chapter 7 . Chapter 8 . Chapter 9 .  Chapter 10 .  Chapter 11 . Chapter 12 . Chapter 13 . Chapter 14 . Chapter 15 . Chapter 16 . Chapter 17 . Chapter 18 . Chapter 19 . Chapter 20 . Chapter 21 . Chapter 22 . Chapter 23 . Chapter 24 . Chapter 25 . Chapter 26

You pad through the living room and out onto the balcony, running a towel through your freshly washed hair before relaxing into one of the chairs. You lift your feet and rest your heels against the railing, leaning back in your seat as you watch the city go about their daily lives, completely unaware that any of this was going on. You close your eyes to breathe in the fresh air, and try to piece together some of the things Steve told you with the events that have unfolded.

You tilt your head to the side, noticing Brock approach as you peek out of the corner of your eye. “They’ve found Cap. He, Natasha, and some guy named Sam are causing a whole hell of a lot of trouble in the middle of the city.” He runs a hand down over his face before placing both hands on his hips, his signature stance of authority. “I don’t think you should come.”

Standing slowly, you ring your hair with the towel one more time before grabbing your gear pack and padding towards the front door. You glance back to see Brock’s questioning stare, and simply snap your fingers twice before pointing to the door in mockery of his favored commanding gesture.

He cracks a cocky grin before moving to stand before you, and pulls you close to press his lips possessively to yours. “That’s my girl.” He moves his lips against yours again, and his teeth playfully nip at your bottom lip before he caresses your cheek to look in your eyes. “We’d better get going.”

You nod in agreement and follow his lead to a waiting group of SUVs, the rest of the team already awaiting his arrival.

“The mission is simple: Pierce wants them brought in alive if possible and the Asset is keeping them busy until we arrive. Let’s move out.” The men all nod before climbing into the vehicles, leaving you and Brock last.

You face him questioningly. “The Asset?”

He purses his lips and glances around before stepping closer to speak in a low voice. “He’s also called the Winter Soldier. It’s mostly classified, but what I can say is that you need to stay away from him. He’s unpredictable and extremely dangerous.” He gives you a small kiss on the cheek, and smiles reassuringly as he nods towards the front SUV.

You climb into the passenger seat, as usual, while Brock gets situated in the driver’s seat. He tosses your pack in the back, and you glance around questioningly as you realize the SUV is empty other than Brock and yourself.

He shrugs. “You said you’d change on the way, so I ordered an extra SUV for some privacy.”

You chuckle softly and give him a quick kiss on the cheek as you climb into the back seat, and quickly begin changing into your combat attire.

Only a few moments pass before you’re fully changed, and crawling back into the front seat, making only last minute adjustments to ensure your vest is properly secured.

You notice Brock glance over as you pull your hair back into a bun, his eyes dragging over you slightly before his attention turns back to the road.

You shake your head, noticing the rear view mirror had been adjusted down slightly. “You watched didn’t you?”

The corner of his mouth twitches up slightly before he looks over to meet your gaze. “Why would I do that?” He raises a sly brow and slips his bottom lip between his teeth in an unsuccessful attempt to bite back a grin.

You smile and shake your head again, readjusting the rear view mirror as Brock turns his attention back to the road.

The SUV lurches to the side slightly, and you look forward to see wrecked cars lining the street. Brock speeds up slightly, the sound of gunshots sounding off to alert that you’re nearing your destination.

You see two figures standing amongst all the wreckage and smoke, and the other SUVs speed around to help block off the area. Brock throws the vehicle in park and jumps out, gun drawn, with you following close behind. Almost immediately, you recognize one of the figures as Steve, and your chest tightens with an almost unbearable pang of guilt as you close in around him with the rest of the team.

All guns are pointed at Steve, who is now kneeling with his hands behind his head. One of the men move forward, but Brock motions for him to stay back, instead glancing at you. He purses his lips slightly, and you understand the message clearly.

Steve won’t fight back if I’m the one to restrain him.

You take a deep breath, and holster your gun in exchange for a set of restraints as you move behind Steve. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Brock nod reassuringly, and the rest of the team pointing their weapons, all ready to shoot your best friend. Time seems to slow as you glance back down at Steve, and kneel down on one knee behind him. You hear your team shuffle slightly behind you, but no one approaches as you gently move Steve’s hands down behind his back to place the restraints. Looking up you see that he’s turned his head slightly in order to see you, tears in his eyes as you click the restraints to lock them.

You feel your own eyes start to sting as you comb your fingers through the back of his hair, taming some of the stray tuffs before placing a soft kiss against his temple. You feel a tear run down your cheek as you pull away, Steve’s eyes meeting your own and conveying a pleading helplessness that you’ve never seen there before.

Another tear streams down your face as Steve turns his head away, you place your hand hesitantly against the back of his neck to run your fingers through his hair once more in an attempt to provide any sort of comfort you can. He glances back at you for a moment, but then turns away again to look forward. You stand slowly, feeling as though you’ve lost him, and look forward with a sense of numbness as men move forward and take him away.

You notice Brock waiting patiently out of the corner of your eye, but you can’t seem to look away from the pair of eyes straight ahead. They were locked with Steve’s until he was taken away, and then they bore into yours with a sense of confused anger that left you standing paralyzed. You recognized this man, and suddenly your eyes widen with the realization that this was what Steve was trying to convey. He wasn’t looking away from you in disgust; he was trying to tell you something about this man.

Feeling someone touch your cheek, you’re jolted from your trance, and turn slightly to see Brock.

“Are you okay? I was calling you and you were just standing there, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek, but your silence causes him to follow your gaze. His jaw clenches as he sees the Winter Soldier staring back at you, and he steps in your line of sight, placing a hand on either side of your face for you to look at him.

You blink a few times before focusing on Brock, and then nod your head numbly. “I-I’m fine.” You glance over his shoulder to see the man again, and your eyes widen with disbelief.

Brock forces you to look him in the eyes again. “Hey, look at me, don’t look at him.” He kisses you softly, and grips the back of your neck with his thumbs along the edge of your jaw to hold your gaze. “That’s the Asset, trust me when I say you don’t want to be the center of his attention for too long.”

You nod numbly and allow him to lead you away, your head spinning and heart pounding as you approach the same SUV from which you had arrived. Pausing just short, you turn to Brock. “Can I have a minute? I just- I need to breathe.” You tug at the edge of your vest, feeling as though it was tightening around your heaving chest.

His features soften as he helps loosen your vest, and presses a gentle kiss to your temple as he nods to a med truck parked not too far off. “Go get checked out, see if they can’t give you anything to calm your nerves.”

You manage a half smile before making your way towards the med unit. You sit patiently on the trunk of one of the abandoned cars as one of the nurses takes your vitals, and glance back to see that Brock is too busy giving orders to pay much attention. You chew at your lip, and thank the nurse as she gives you a small bottle of pills before leaving you to sit alone. You glance back at Brock again to see that he’s still busy, and quickly pull your phone out at your side to type out a simple message to Agent Hill. You aren’t sure if she will believe you, or even get the message at all, but she was one of Fury’s most trusted agents, and you’re out of other options.

You lean back, as though stretching, and discretely place your phone back in your pocket just in time to notice Brock walking towards you.

“Transport is ready to move out; we have to escort it to the drop location.” He pauses for a moment, noticing the small container of pills in your hands. “I can have someone drop you off back at HQ.”

“The hell you will.” You shake your head, pocketing the container as you stand and tighten the straps back on your vest. “I’m going with you; I have to see this through.”

He smiles softly and wraps an arm around your waist, leading you back to the SUV. “Yes ma’am.”

You climb in the passenger seat, watching out the window, as Steve is loaded into the back of an armored transport. Brock starts the SUV, and glances over to ensure you’re ready, but remains silent as he traces your line of sight.

He reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. “What do you say, after this, we go home and watch some movies? I’ll even cook.” He studies your features, waiting for any reaction.

You manage a small, sincere smile, which seems to be what he was looking for. He presses his lips to the back of your hand and laces his fingers with yours as he moves forward to take lead on the escort.

You turn to him, opening your mouth to speak, wanting to tell him everything in hopes that he would be at your side to help Steve; you decide against it, staying silent instead, knowing the overwhelming odds against you.

Brock notices. “I know you’re confused and hurt right now, sweetheart, but I promise I’ll do anything I can do help you feel better after all this.”

Turning to stare out the window, you see that the vehicles are slowing to a stop amongst what looks to be abandoned buildings.

Brock shifts the SUV into park and clicks off his seatbelt. “Stay here, I’ll handle it, okay?”

You give a slight nod, watching him open the door, but he pauses for a moment. He turns back to you and leans over the center console, pressing his lips to yours for a long and soft kiss. As he pulls away, he notices the tears in your eyes and purses his lips. “I love you, beautiful. It breaks me to see you like this.”

You study his eyes, seeing no deception or lies in his words, and again you consider telling him everything. You close your eyes and pull him towards you for a longer, more passionate kiss. When he finally breaks away, he’s left slightly breathless, and kisses your forehead down to your cheek before getting out of the SUV.

You watch him move around to the other agents, who are awaiting his orders to open the back of the transport. He readies his weapon, and everyone else follows his lead in readying their own as he signals two of the agents to move forward and pull the doors.

You lean forward in your seat, heart pounding as you hold your breath in anticipation. The doors swing open, and you release your breath in disbelief; the back of the transport is empty aside from one unconscious guard and a large hole cut into the floor.

Brock slams the doors shut and you can hear his angered voice, although you can’t quite make them out. He paces back and forth, but is interrupted when one of the agents approaches him, pointing back towards you in the SUV. Furrowing your brows, you squint your eyes and attempt to read the agent’s lips; you can’t quite make out all of it, but you know he’s accusing you of having something to do with their getting away.

You study Brock carefully, trying to gauge his reaction as the agent continues his argument. Brock listens carefully, glancing at the SUV from time to time.

Looking down, you notice that you’ve subconsciously drawn your gun and gripped the door handle, every nerve in your body screaming for you to run as your heart pounds painfully against your chest. Taking a deep breath, you slowly release your grip on the door handle, and turn your attention back to Brock and the agent’s conversation.

The agent has finished talking, and Brock’s hands are on his hips, deep in thought. Suddenly he grabs the agent by his vest and slams him up against the side of the transport, yelling something about you that you don’t quite catch. The agent holds his hands up defensively, shaking his head, and Brock throws him to the ground before making his way back to you in the SUV.

You holster your weapon, and hold your breath as Brock pauses at the door before jerking it open and sliding in the driver’s seat. He slams the door shut behind him, and grips the steering wheel until his knuckles are white as he takes a deep breath. Waiting patiently for him to say something, you decide to remain silent. You hear him take another deep breath, and turn to face him as he runs his hands back through his hair to tame the strands that had fallen across his face.

“Do you know anything about this?” He doesn’t look at you; he just waits impatiently for an answer.

“Brock I-“

“Think long and hard about what you say, because I will find out if you’re lying to me.” He still won’t look at you, his face hard and rigid with a cold anger you’ve never seen directed towards you before.

You clench your jaw, and narrow your eyes at him. “I didn’t know this would happen, and I’ve been with you this whole time.” Technically not a lie, you think to yourself.

Sitting back in your seat, you cross your arms and stare out the side window, ignoring the feel of Brock’s eyes on you.

“Baby…” His voice softens, and you almost feel your resolve melt away, but you manage to keep a strong appearance as you continue facing away. “I had to ask, you know that. I trust what you say completely. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He moves to brush his fingers against your cheek, but you shrug him off and lean your seat back, closing your eyes as you get comfortable. “Wake me when we get back to HQ.”

You can feel your heart breaking at your own words, and you know you’re being cold towards Brock, but you also know what you’re about to have to do. Agent Hill obviously got your message, and she acted on it to save Steve and the others. You know you have to get some explanations, that man, the Winter Soldier, you know exactly who he really is; you’re pretty damn sure Pierce knows exactly who he is too. Something was terribly wrong here, and you knew now that whatever was going on, Pierce’s side wasn’t the right side to be on.

(Not my GIF)

Chapter 28 . Chapter 29 . Chapter 30 . Chapter 31

[dibidibidismol]

For the Anon who wanted me to answer all the questions: I hope you're happy.

— 1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

A Baby named orlo 

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

Depends on the situation 

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

My bestest friend and I have a shopping date soon!

4. Are you easy to get along with?

Probably not. I dunno.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

Yeah, probably.

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

People who use she/her pronouns.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

Probably not.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

Byun Baekhyun.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

No.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

A group of close friends.

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

  “Great!”

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

Expect by Girls Day

Eternity by VIXX

Tried to Walk by B1A4

Sorry by The Rose

Closer by Oh My Girl

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

So long as they don't tangle it.

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

I believe in chance.

15. What good thing happened this summer?

I got a scholarship to a programme I applied for! Met some new friends!

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Hell yeah. A sweet baby gave me a smooch. Baby kisses are the best.

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

I think it's a possibility.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

They moved far far away.

19. Do you like bubble baths?

Not really.

20. Do you like your neighbors?

Yeah, I babysit for them sometimes.

21. What are your bad habits?

I'm a sucker for my dog. I give him too many treats.

22. Where would you like to travel?

I'm not much of a traveler but I hear Portland Oregon is nice this time of year.

23. Do you have trust issues?

Probably?

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

Afternoon Tumblr, Spotify and Tea time.

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

My nose.

26. What do you do when you wake up?

Do my daily language learning sessions and wash my face.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

Lighter

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

My dog and/or friends.

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

Hahahahahahaha No.

30. Do you ever want to get married?

Yes.

31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?

Yep.

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

I'm Demi, and don't know any celebrities.

33. Spell your name with your chin.

Done.

34. Do you play sports? What sports?

I've done a lot of basketball and a bit of track and field.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

I don't watch much T.V anyways.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

Story of my life.

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

When in doubt talk about the weather.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

She/her pronouns, actually reciprocates my affections, ace/demi friendly, not allergic to dogs, fluent in English, mildly intelligent, has a compatible sense of humor, not abusive.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

Target, H-mart, Costco,

40. What do you want to do after high school?

College and Law school 

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

Not everyone, but most people.

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

I’m tired, thinking, or listening to music.

43. Do you smile at strangers?

Unless they're giving off bad vibes.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

Outer space. I have a fear of the deep ocean.

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

Devotion to my dog.

46. What are you paranoid about?

Germs, skin cancer, the deep ocean, my friends not loving themselves enough, everyone I know secretly disliking me, etc.

47. Have you ever been high?

On caffeine.

48. Have you ever been drunk?

On life.

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

Yes. But I'm telling y'all anyways. (My dog was giving me sad eyes so I gave him a treat. And then another. And another. And another. So he ended up having like half the bag.)

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Black

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Oh yeah. I've been jealous of many of my friends. They're all so attractive and funny and smart and I'm just kinda there.

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

I wish I was more intelligent.

53. Favourite makeup brand?

I don't wear enough makeup to be able to differentiate between the brands.

54. Favourite store?

I like Eastern Asian grocery stores and Target.

55. Favourite blog?

My absolute favorite recently deleted, but my current favourites are @homosexo-l @ot-nine and @queerfictionwriter

56. Favourite colour?

Black, Crimson, and shades of purple.

57. Favourite food? 

Right now I'm a big fan of carrots.

58. Last thing you ate?

An egg and roasted mushroom on a hamburger bun.

59. First thing you ate this morning?

Fruit and protein smoothie with whole grain toast.

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

I’ve won a couple basketball related things, a handful of academic awards, speech tournaments, and a few other things I'm forgetting.

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

When I was really young (7 or 8) I was suspended for taking the cookie sprinkles from the class cabinet and distributing them amongst our classmates.

62. Been arrested? For what?

Nope.

63. Ever been in love? 

Yeah. It sucks.

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

We both leaned in. *smooch*

65. Are you hungry right now?

I'm hungry for Love and Affection.

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

Nah. I love my real friends a lot.

67. Facebook or Twitter?

I don't have either.

68. Twitter or Tumblr.

Tumblr.

69. Are you watching tv right now?

I don't really watch TV.

70. Name of your bestfriend? 

Mira

71. Craving something? What?

Craving love and affection. Also garlic eggplant.

72. What colour are your towels?

White.

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

Four big ones plus eightish throw pillows plus five pillow pets.

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

They have their own corner of my room.

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

60? I have a ton of tiny ones.

75. Favourite animal?

My dog.

76. What colour is your underwear?

Black and Pink.

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

Chocolate.

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

Banana.

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

Black.

80. What colour pants?

Black.

81. Favourite tv show?

I don't really watch TV but I like Ask us Anything/Knowing Bros and I liked Weekly Idol pre-current MC line up. I also like the Great British Baking show.

82. Favourite movie?

Tangled 

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

Mean girls? I haven't seen pt2.

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

Mean girls? I haven't seen 21 jump street.

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

I don't really remember the characters, but I think I liked the teacher.

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

Dory!

87. First person you talked to today?

My dog.

88. Last person you talked to today?

See above. :)

89. Name a person you hate?

Donald J. Trump

90. Name a person you love?

Amber Liu!

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

Donald J. Trump

92. In a fight with someone?

My mother.

93. How many sweatpants do you have?

4?

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

6?

95. Last movie you watched?

The Lorax 

96. Favourite actress?

I dunno. I don't watch a lot of TV.

97. Favourite actor?

See above.

98. Do you tan a lot?

I would if I didn't stay inside so much or if I were to lay off the sunscreen. 

99. Have any pets?

I have a dog. He’s the bestest. I could go on about him for hours...

100. How are you feeling?

I'm a little tired but my dog is here next to me  so I'm good.

101. Do you type fast?

I'm alright on an actual keyboard, but touch screens slow me down a lot.

102. Do you regret anything from your past?

I regret having picked the wrong Duolingo chest and only getting one Lingot instead of five.

103. Can you spell well?

My initial guess tends to be correct, but I tend to doubt my spelling capabilities and confuse myself over wether or not I was correct.

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

I miss the group of people who I went to school with for seven plus years. We were used to each other and it's hard to replicate that camaraderie. 

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

Nah.

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

Hahahahahahaha No.

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

I took riding lessons when i was younger.

108. What should you be doing?

Baking a pie. I want pie.

109. Is something irritating you right now?

America’s President.

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

Yes.

111. Do you have trust issues?

See #23

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

My friend/ theripast @squish-io

113. What was your childhood nickname?

Dictionary.

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

Yes.

115. Do you play the Wii?

No.

116. Are you listening to music right now?

Yes.

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

I'm Vegetarian.

118. Do you like Chinese food?

Half of my family is Chinese so I only like the good stuff.

119. Favourite book?

The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff 

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

No.

121. Are you mean?

Maybe?

122. Is cheating ever okay?

Once I cheated at Pandemic. The rules of the game were too complicated and I was playing against an expert.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

Probably, I don't have any though.

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

I believe in attraction at first sight but not love.

125. Do you believe in true love?

No.

126. Are you currently bored?

Nah, I'm answering these, it's pretty fun.

127. What makes you happy?

My dog! Kpop crack! Tumblr(sometimes)!

128. Would you change your name?

Maybe.

129. What your zodiac sign?

It starts with a “P”

130. Do you like subway?

Not particularly.

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

First of all, that would never happen. Either way as my best friend they would know that I'm gay and so if their pronouns are not she/her it wouldn't be an issue. If their pronouns were she/her then... I dunno. Depends on what would make them happy.

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

See #10

133. Favourite lyrics right now?

Shawty imma party till the sundown (so I can make it back in time for curfew) 134. Can you count to one million?

Yes. For efficiency I'd count by 500,000s.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

 “I'm straight”

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

I can't sleep with the doors open.

137. How tall are you?

Smol.

138. Curly or Straight hair?

Wavy.

139. Brunette or Blonde?

The former. 

140. Summer or Winter?

Winter.

141. Night or Day?

Night.

142. Favourite month?

November.

143. Are you a vegetarian?

Yes.

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

Dark.

145. Tea or Coffee?

Tea.

146. Was today a good day?

Sure.

147. Mars or Snickers?

I don't eat either.

148. What’s your favourite quote?

 “Love is like a fart. If you have to force it it's probably shit.”

149. Do you believe in ghosts?

No. 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

“Well,” Miss Morgan said, her voice losing conviction, “what do you mean, talking about people dressed like me? Blue hats, and so on?”

[rosecolored-gay]

Answer the questions bitch

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

- Prob Rach when I was playing with her fingers and being a pain in the ass.

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

- I seem outgoing but I’m generally shy in larger groups.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

- My family is coming from GA on Friday!

4. Are you easy to get along with?

- I can be, I try to be.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

- Mhm

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

- Ones that can make me laugh so hard I cry, who can make me smile even when I don’t want to. Someone genuine.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

- I don’t know, I can’t predict the future. I’m just going with the flow.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

- Tom Holland, because I just rewatched his Lip Sync Battle video again for the millionth time.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

- Not usually, but around certain people it does.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

- Rach

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

- “But i hope you enjoy” to Rach

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

- 1. Panic! At the Disco - This is Gospel, 2. Hayley Kiyoko - Curious, 3. Halsey - Is there somewhere, 4. The All-American Rejects - I For You, 5. Tyler Glenn - Shameless

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

- I love it, but there’s very few people who I allow to do so.

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

- Not really, no.

15. What good thing happened this summer?

- I got nominated for a job by a professor because of my writing, and I got the job today!

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

- Lol no, it was just a friend.

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

- Why not?

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

- Nopeeee

19. Do you like bubble baths?

- Not really

20. Do you like your neighbors?

- Oh man, my neighbors fucking suck.

21. What are you bad habits?

- Nail biting, procrastinating

22. Where would you like to travel?

- I want to go back to Greece. I’d like to travel pretty much anywhere though.

23. Do you have trust issues?

- Yes.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

- Sleeping?

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

- All of it? Lol

26. What do you do when you wake up?

- Groan because it’s early, hit the off button on my alarm and convince myself to slither out of bed.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

- I like being pale.

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

- Rach, Caitlin, Abe, Brandi and Crissy

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

- Yeah, but I don’t care.

30. Do you ever want to get married?

- Yes

31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?

- No

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

- Hayley Kiyoko and Gal Gadot

33. Spell your name with your chin.

- zzal,ytdssas

34. Do you play sports? What sports?

- I used to do martial arts.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

- Without TV

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

- All the time

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

- I make a really really bad dad joke.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

- A girl that makes me laugh, is loyal, and just wants the same things as me.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

- I hate shopping ugh.

40. What do you want to do after high school?

- I graduated 3 years ago, lol, I’m in college.

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

- Not always, no.

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

- I’m probably not happy, that’s for sure.

43. Do you smile at strangers?

- Most of the time

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

- Outer space

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

- My alarm 

46. What are you paranoid about?

- Spiders being in my car

47. Have you ever been high?

- Yes

48. Have you ever been drunk?

- Yes

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

- Nope

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

- Grey

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

- Nah

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

- Willpower

53. Favourite makeup brand?

- I don’t wear makeup

54. Favourite store?

- Barnes & Noble

55. Favourite blog?

- @virginqueenforlife

56. Favourite colour?

- Grey

57. Favourite food? 

- Greek Fries

58. Last thing you ate?

- Greek Salad

59. First thing you ate this morning?

- A bagel with cream cheese

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

- I honestly can’t think rn

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

- I was suspended in middle school because some kid hit me and stabbed me with a pencil and I stabbed him in the hand with a pencil as retaliation 

62. Been arrested? For what?

- No

63. Ever been in love? 

- Idk honestly

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

- LOL, his name was Jordan, it was the 6th grade, and we both turned out to be gay.

65. Are you hungry right now?

- Nope, I’m full

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

- Sometimes

67. Facebook or Twitter?

-Twitter

68. Twitter or Tumblr?

- Tumblr

69. Are you watching tv right now?

-Catfish is playing in the background

70. Names of your bestfriends? 

- Caitlin, Brandi, Rachel

71. Craving something? What?

- My fave snack

72. What colour are your towels?

- Grey and Red

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

- 2

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

- Nah

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

- Oh a whole basket from when I was a kid

75. Favourite animal?

- Otters!

76. What colour is your underwear?

- Grey

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

- Vanilla

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

- Pistachio, but only if it’s the fake stuff like the weird green color, or I like vanilla bean

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

- Grey ( I really like Grey, sorry)

80. What colour pants?

- Black

81. Favourite tv show?

- Grey’s Anatomy all time fave. Right now though I’m binging Cutthroat Kitchen

82. Favourite movie?

- THIS IS SO HARD, ok, right now it’s Love Simon

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

- Mean Girls

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

- Mean Girls

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

- Damian! I actually met the actor last week lol

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

- Dory

87. First person you talked to today?

- Rachel

88. Last person you talked to today?

- My dad

89. Name a person you hate?

- Coconut Head

90. Name a person you love?

- Rach

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

- The lady who cut me off in the fast lane this morning

92. In a fight with someone?

- No

93. How many sweatpants do you have?

- I don’t think I own any...

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

-Like 5?

95. Last movie you watched?

- Mamma Mia - Here We Go Again!

96. Favourite actress?

- Gal Gadot

97. Favourite actor?

- Tom Holland

98. Do you tan a lot?

- I’m white, I burn

99. Have any pets?

- 2 lovely pups

100. How are you feeling?

- Stressed, I have 4 papers due this weekend.

101. Do you type fast?

- Yes

102. Do you regret anything from your past?

- Nah, it’s whatever.

103. Can you spell well?

- Yes

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

- Not really, nope.

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

- Yes

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

- Yep

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

- Yes

108. What should you be doing?

- Writing one of my papers

109. Is something irritating you right now?

- Yes, I really need to write this paper, but I love to procrastinate too much.

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

- lol y e p

111. Do you have trust issues?

- Yes

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

- Uh my friends Alyssa and Alex, when I got the job offer this morning

113. What was your childhood nickname?

- Lyss

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

- Yes

115. Do you play the Wii?

- Was never a big Wii fan

116. Are you listening to music right now?

- No, TV in the background

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

- Eh, not really

118. Do you like Chinese food?

- Yes

119. Favourite book?

- 19 Minutes by Jodi Picoult

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

- Not really

121. Are you mean?

- I can be, but I won’t be unless I’m provoked

122. Is cheating ever okay?

- No. Never.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

- Yes

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

- No

125. Do you believe in true love?

-Yes

126. Are you currently bored?

- No

127. What makes you happy?

- Studying with my fave

128. Would you change your name?

- Yes

129. What your zodiac sign?

- Gemini

130. Do you like subway?

- No, ew.

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

- Uh well, I’m gay, he’s gay, so I don’t see that happening.

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

- Rach

133. Favourite lyrics right now?

- Idk

134. Can you count to one million?

- Yes

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

- I’m straight

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

- Bedroom door closed, closet doors - one open, one closed

137. How tall are you?

- Like 5′2 and a half

138. Curly or Straight hair?

- I like whatever

139. Brunette or Blonde?

- I have a thing for blondes

140. Summer or Winter?

- Winter

141. Night or Day?

- Afternoon

142. Favourite month?

- October

143. Are you a vegetarian?

- No

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

- Dark

145. Tea or Coffee?

- Both

146. Was today a good day?

- Yes

147. Mars or Snickers?

- Neither, ew

148. What’s your favourite quote?

- I have too many

149. Do you believe in ghosts?

- Nah

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

- “I didn’t know -- though here and there was a face I had noticed on the commuting train.”

[aion-rsa]

1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything’s Sound Chief Talks Revolution

https://ift.tt/3yw2CuP

The revolution is being televised. Fifty years later. Apple TV+’s 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything highlights how musicians were in touch with what was happening around them even as they were making things happen. Marvin Gaye lays down “What’s Going On” in the first episode, and the remainder of the eight-part docuseries builds the basic tracks which became the soundtrack to a changing world.

Solo ex-Beatles took to the streets and concert halls while The Rolling Stones, as a group, went deep into exile. Aretha Franklin went to the courthouse to post bail for former University of California philosophy professor Angela Davis, charged with “aggravated kidnapping and first-degree murder in the death of Judge Harold Haley.” Bill Withers quit his day job but held tight to his lunch box. David Bowie twisted a knife into the hippy movement, and Alice Cooper went to hell to celebrate.

The sonic examination was inspired by the book Never a Dull Moment: 1971 the Year That Rock Exploded by David Hepworth.  The documentary includes clips and licks from the likes of Elton John, Graham Nash, Ike and Tina Turner and Bill Withers. Almost every genre of popular and underground music is included. We get reggae from Bob Marley, classic rock from The Who, acoustic strums from Joni Mitchell, street cred from Lou Reed, and a little “Evil” from Stevie Wonder. There are sections on David Bowie, Carole King, James Brown, and for some inexplicable reason, the Osmond Brothers, who say they always wanted to be Sly and the Family Stone. Some of the interviews are new, most of the footage is archival nuggets, and all of the music is authentic.

This was assured by Iain Cooke, the music supervisor who conducted the business of the accompaniment. Cooke previously worked with co-director Asif Kapadia on the Oscar and BAFTA winning Amy Winehouse feature documentary AMY, Oasis: Supersonic about the Gallagher brothers, and such TV series as The Fades, The Night Manager, and Gangs of London. Cooke spoke with Den of Geek about the mayhem and the music of half a century ago, and why we’re still listening.

Den of Geek: I know the documentary was based on the book Never a Dull Moment, so were you given a list of artists to choose or did you suggest artists?

Iain Cooke: I was first made aware of the project six years ago when we were over in Cannes for the Amy premiere, with the same team, with James Garrison and Asif. James told me about a manuscript that he was hoping to option called Never a Dull Moment. He shared it with me. I think it was literally in July of 2015, and I read this amazing story. And then as it developed, we had some broad conversations and then the edit team went into the edit for a good two years.

The book was a reference for us. We weren’t trying to make the series of the book. A lot of the initial work, early on by the producers and the directors and the editors, was really to find what the story was. They toyed with different story strands or chronology. The 1971 Never a Dull Moment was almost a broad headline. It was up to the team to go in and find what the stories were and what the story arcs and story strands were.

What was your role in choosing the music?

A lot of it will be the performance and the story that it takes, the choice of song. The edit team as a whole deserves a huge amount of credit for the selections. A lot of my work was focused on the rights and negotiation and really trying to make sure that we were able to tell the story that we wanted to do, but also to secure the rights to some of these huge, huge catalogs.

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You did a pretty deep dig into the music. I hadn’t heard The Last Poets, so thanks for that. Did you make any personal song discoveries while doing the work?

That’s a really good question. I think it’s such a pivotal year. Obviously, we’re knowing that the 50th anniversary of a lot of those albums when they were either recorded, or being released. I have to say that I was given a copy of There’s a Riot Going On when I was about 16, 17, off an older friend who was very, very into music, and that’s remained one of my favorite albums ever since. It’s an absolute masterpiece. And in my personal record collection there’s many, many of these albums, but I’m glad you picked up on The Last Poets. I think Gil Scott-Heron, and The Last Poets themselves, were possibly one of the real heroes of the piece. I think most people will know about Marvin Gaye and The Stones and those artists, but I really hope that a whole new audience will discover the Gil Scott-Heron music, that songs, like “No Knock,” it’s mind blowing when you hear some of those songs they wrote. Absolute protest music, and they sold, I believe they did sell like a million copies.

It got to a wide audience. And that I’m really glad that a lot of people got to hear that message at the time, because they were really, you know, that The Prisoner as well, the episode around the Attica prison riot is one of my favorites without a doubt. And I think to have that interwoven with Gil Scott-Heron’s music is a real triumph. Yeah.

Were you surprised at what artists were getting away with that was available to the public, on records or right there on the radio?

Yeah. But then even within the series there is a bit about radio stations being under pressure not to play certain records and hold that back. I think there’s also a lot of the musicians talking about hearing clicks on the phone and that paranoia about people listening in, the FBI. And that was later revealed that they did have an agenda against some of these protagonists and realized how much influence they have, how much people listen to what they have to say.

Do you think there were more connections between the social and the music in 1971 then today? When you factor in things like the K-pop stans and technology?

I think it was an incredibly political time without a doubt. You’ve got the backdrop of the Vietnam war and Nixon’s economic policies and a real disenfranchised youth. I do feel that there was a particular moment in time around this time where people were prepared to be particularly political, like: Marvin Gaye releasing “What’s Going On” as a protest to his brother being drafted to the Vietnam war, John Lennon singing “I Don’t Wanna Be A Soldier, Mama, I Don’t Want to Die,” Bob Dylan writing a song about George Jackson, Neil Young writing a song about the Kent State massacre. I feel like rock stars really were influential, the most influential people of that era. And they were prepared to use their voice. I think someone says in the documentary that it’s not the society that influences the music. It’s the other way around. It’s the music and the musicians that can influence society. I think that’s true.

Were there any artists who you think were left out? You’re a musician, do you think prog was skipped? Aqualung came out that year.

Yeah. I was going to say Jethro Tull is a notable exception. I think it’s really, really hard. There are actually 150 songs across the series. There are 58 different artists. There are 108 different songwriters. And when you take into account that we include The Stones, John Lennon, Marvin Gaye, Sly and the Family Stone, and Aretha Franklin, Gil Scott-Heron, Curtis Mayfield, Bill Withers, The Stooges, I mean, Bob Dylan, George Harrison, the list goes on and on and on. Pink Floyd. It’s insane. I guess there came a point where, really, the producers and the edit team wanted to spotlight and do a deep dive into some of the particular artists and their story rather than to perhaps dilate it and to try and encompass the whole story of 1971.

I mean, like you say that there’s many, many different albums that there’s still a story still to tell. Maybe there’ll be a part two of the series.

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1971: The Year Music Changed Everything is available to stream on Apple TV+ now. You can read our review here.

The post 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything’s Sound Chief Talks Revolution appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[tchalametdaily]

Timothée Chalamet: "I always root for the underdog".

Translation below the cut.

A star is born. He has a French name (like his dad), but his home is New York. However, fame came with an Italian movie, "Call Me By Your Name" by Luca Guadagnino, a heart-wrenching tale of first love. And there's already Oscar talk around it.

"College? I tried, but I just can't. I'm already in too deep with the movie business to take a step back and say, okay, now I'll go back to school. I can do what a director tells me to do, but I can't do homework".

Warning: acting is robbing a bilingual 21-year-old, who's always been a good student, of a prestigious degree at Columbia University. It's undeniable that the career of New Yorker Timothée Chalamet is rising (right now he's on the set of Woody Allen's next project), and if you didn't notice how talented he is in movies like Love The Coopers and Interstellar, you now have a new chance of finding out with his first leading role in Luca Guadagnino's Oscar frontrunner Call Me By Your Name (written alongside James Ivory and Walter Fasano), out in US theaters on November 24th and coming to our cinemas next year.

Based on André Aciman's 2007 novel of the same title, it tells of an unexpected love story between a French-Italian 17-year-old named Elio and one of his father's students, Oliver, a 24-year-old American who comes to Italy to work on his post-doctorate dissertation. It takes place in the early 80s, when Craxi was prime minister and Beppe Grillo was on TV*, in an unspecified location near Cremona. The discovery of passion turns Elio's summer into a coming-of-age momentum that will probably change his whole life.

"I admit I was a bit intimidated by the character at first. But once I got to Italy, after I took piano lessons, and guitar and diction, and while rehearsing scenes, I let myself go without having to label roles or actions. It truly was a beautiful experience, partly because Guadagnino has a very natural way of guiding you and making you see things through his eyes".

Call Me By Your Name is a movie about the power of first love. Do you remember your first crush?

I was probably 12 or 13 years old. I went to a party and I found myself with a group of girls. I realized that, while I was talking, my head was pounding, it felt like a war was raging inside of me, I sensed that it wasn't like when I was with my friends... I was afraid, and yet I was enjoying it.

Do you have any confidants?

My sister, who's a little older than me. I usually talk to her about some stuff, and I talk to my parents about other stuff, there's a good dialogue between us. I have no secrets from them (he smiles)... well, maybe some. And then there’s my friends, although sometimes my job makes it hard to see them regularly.

Has fame changed your life?

I started at 14 with small roles, I had time to get used to it. I'm not a star, I'm sure I'll never be one. No one is stopping me on the street. There are a lot of celebrities in Manhattan, where I grew up, no one looks at me like I'm special. And I don't mind being interviewed either, some of my older colleagues told me that it can get boring after a while. But, for the time being, this gives me the opportunity to ask myself where I'm going and how. It's like seeing a therapist.

What did you learn on the set of Call Me By Your Name?

That one doesn't just decide to change, that there are stages in everyone's lives that take you places you didn't expect. Sometimes, trying to impose our will onto the future is a wasted effort.

What did Italy leave you with?

Beauty. Beauty in places, food, people's warmth. But I'm half French so it felt a little bit like home.

How did your parents meet?

My father, who's French, was on a business trip in New York for Le Parisien. He's a journalist, who now works for the United Nations. My mom was a dancer, now she's in the real estate business. I can't tell if my sister and I feel more French or American. I stayed in New York while she's been living in Paris for quite some time. I spent every summer in France until I was 15 years old, but New York is my home.

Who would you root for in a sporting match between France and the US?

France if it's basket, America if it's football**. I find that it's easier for me to root for the underdog.

Do you find a different welcoming while you're overseas now that Trump is president?

It's not easy, not so much because of what people think, but because of how I feel in the first place, as an individual.

Are you politically active?

I don't take to the streets to protest, but I often talk about politics with my friends. Obama's first election campaign was a sort of a way in that pushed my generation to get into politics. Up to that point, the only memories I had of the White House had Bush as the main resident, and there was very little to get excited about. Trump can try to build walls and make our current lives horrible, but we now live in a world where most of us come from mixed-race families, Americans, and Mexicans, Canadians, and Germans, French, and Italians, Argentinians, and Russians. It's a process that cannot be stopped, we're already heading towards a united world, free of nationalism.

What do you read in your spare time, do you prefer essays or literature?

Literature. I'm currently obsessed with Russian authors. Tolstoj, but also Dostoevskij. Crime and Punishment is a gut punch.

Music?

David Bowie, Nancy Sinatra, Talking Heads. I know, I have old-fashioned tastes.

Social network?

I'm not a fan. I have an Instagram account I rarely use, no official Facebook page. There's so much to do, I really don't have time to commit to something that is not real***.

Favorite actor?

Louis de Funès, the greatest.

Do you have a long-cherished dream?

In my case, to be content with your everyday life is already like living a dream.

 (translator's notes: *a bit of historical context: Craxi was the leader of the Italian Socialist Party and a controversial political figure; at the time, Beppe Grillo was a stand up comedian and actor who's now, ironically enough, a controversial political figure. **For you Americans out there, he's obviously talking about soccer, but everywhere else it's called football, the one you actually play with your feet! ***I realize him saying that social networking is "not real" can sound a bit harsh, but please don't fixate on such a small detail; the real meaning behind his words might have gotten lost in translation –mine was literal– and he clearly has a different approach to it than us)