#this is a rush job but i wanna get something out before ID releases

[kitakami-kid]

kieran w/spinel lines pt 1! (more if i have time, i am quite busy this week)

[halfmoon-writes]

『"𝕙𝕪𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕚𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕜𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕒𝕥 𝟛 𝕒𝕞, 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠?"』

✉ 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚝 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ✉ 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗!𝚊𝚞, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚛𝚢, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎, 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚙𝚞𝚝) 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜(𝚜): 𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌, 𝚔𝚊𝚎𝚢𝚊, 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒, 𝚊𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚘

☾ diluc

➥ he's probably still in his office at the time, sipping his nth coffee for the night as he glances the paperwork in his desk. mans a busy businessman.

➥ then, his phone rings. he would scowl at the sound then look at the clock. it was 3 am, who would call him at this time?

➥ when he saw your name on the caller, he'd sigh. 'what are they up to this time?' he thought, then pressing the green button.

➥ strong winds and rapid footsteps could be heard from his phone and he grew worried. he let out a small "hello?"

➥ "diluc! baby! love of my life, hi!" you answered, your voice was breathy, as if you've been running for a long time. "what are you doing at this hour, and why is it so loud?" he asked.

➥ he could hear you let out a laugh. your pace didn't falter at all as you let out a small squeak. "hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?" you questioned.

➥ his slouched state became tense as he stood upright, phone pressing between his cheeks and shoulder as he hurriedly wear his coat. "run away. where are you right now?" he asked, grabbing his car keys and immediately exiting his workplace.

➥ "my brain is panicking right now I have no idea where I am." you informed, then laughed. he doesn't know why you could laugh at a situation like this, but it felt reassuring to know you're not overly panicking to the point where you couldn't even get help.

➥ "elzier, tend to my workplace while I'm gone. I won't be long." he said as he ran towards the garage. "could you stay on the line with me?" he asked.

➥ "yeah, yeah definitely," you said, taking a deep breath. "my breathing might sound unsightly though, hope you don't mind. I've been running for a while." you took another breath again.

➥ "that's fine. all that matters is that you're safe." he said. by the sound of the slight shuffle in your line (minus the breathing), it seemed like you are currently hiding, or relaxing.

➥ "did you lose them?" he asked. "uhh I think ye—" all of the sudden, you went silent. he wanted to ask if you're okay, but he was scared that he would've alerted the person in finding you.

➥ so, he waited. he was currently on his way to the supermarket you normally visit at an ungodly hour, in hopes that you would be somewhere near there. not too long after, he heard the sound of something hitting the concrete. hard.

➥ "(y/n)! are you okay?!" he yelled out. there wasn't any answer given other than the sound of ruffling and he was anxious to wait for your reply.

➥ "hi! I managed to escape death's grip and kick him in the fucking balls!" you shouted, your breathing still erratic. he let out a sigh of relief.

➥ "that's great. do you know where you're located now?" he asked. "uhh... oh, look! it's the gas station near the statue of barbatos!" you said. "good job. now, stay there. I'll go get you."

➥ "yes, please." once he arrived, he noticed you waving at him with a smile, as if you weren't in a near-death situation. he wondered what he's gonna do with you.

➥ as soon as he arrived, he immediately engulf you in his arms. "I was really worried." he said. you let out a laugh, hugging him back. "yeah, I was too. worried for that guy because he definitely won't be having kids." he sighed at your response, but laugh nonetheless, placing a kiss at your forehead.

➥ "let's go home. and you're not going to the supermarket at these hours anymore."

☾ kaeya

➥ let's face it. this man would be sleeping at this hour. but he's a light sleeper, so he would wake up the moment he heard his phone rings.

➥ he groans at the noise, rubbing his eyes and check the caller id, then back to the clock.

➥ what in the actual ever loving- it was 3 am, why are you calling him at this hour?

➥ he picked up your call and was about to make a sly remark about how you must've missed him, but the words were stuck on his tongue when he heard the sound of your heavy breathing.

➥ "you good?" he asked.

➥ "hey, bubs. nope. not at all." you said. "hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?"

➥ the way that this man stood straight up. his sleepiness dissipate immediately. "you're joking." he said, well, more like convinced himself. this was the only time that he was hoping you were pranking him.

➥ there was a long silence on the line, then the sound of your footsteps, from light tiptoes to full-on sprinting. he grew panicked. taking the nearest piece of clothing and pants with him.

➥ "stay on the line. I'm coming to get you." when he said, that he heard a laugh from you and he really thought that you were pranking him, but it wasn't. "I don't even know where I am, how on earth are you gonna find me?"

➥ he stopped doing whatever he was doing at the moment, before continuing and grabbing his keys and drove off with his motorcycle (use your helmets!), his phone snuffed inside his helmet. "you're probably not that far off. I'll try to find you. meanwhile, stay on the line." he demanded.

➥ "yes, captain." if it was any other situation, he would've laugh at the nickname, but he couldn't. god, he was so scared at what might happen to you if he wasn't fast enough.

➥ the constant sound of you taking a long breath before continuing to run makes him very anxious. all of the sudden, he heard you scream in pain.

➥ "(y/n)! hey, hey (y/n)! what happened?!" the grip on the handlebar tightened. there was nothing but the sound of something stumbling around, then the sound of a loud groaning could be heard.

➥ "(y/n)...?" he called out one more time. "yes, yes I'm here." you let out another laugh. "well, now I know where I am now. it's a few blocks across diluc's bar." you said.

➥ you're breathing pretty heavily and he was really concerned about that, increasing up the speed to get to you. he spotted you sitting down near a pole and you waved at him.

➥ his eyes widened at your red hand, clutching the side of your shoulder. putting down his helmet, he rushed to your aid to examine the wound. "hey, you found me." you joked.

➥ he didn't answer, instead pressing the wound to stop the bleeding. "it's pretty deep." he answered. "just like you last night." you retort. he couldn't help but let out a laugh at your comment.

➥ "yeah? and I'll do it again."

☾ venti

➥ venti had a variety of activities he'd do at an ungodly hour. it could range from making new music or trying to summon a demon. either way, he'll probably still be awake doing random shit.

➥ the sound of lyre could be heard at his place, strumming softly with him humming along. it was peaceful, until it was broken by the sound of his phone ringing.

➥ he raised a brow at it, but picked it up without seeing the caller. "hello?" he greeted. his greeting was met by the sound of wind blowing harshly, as if someone was running.

➥ he released the phone and checked the caller. to his surprise, it was you. "(y/n)? wha-" "hey, venti!" your voice called out, mixed with pants and heavy breathing.

➥ "hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?" at the question, he stopped moving.

➥ "...are you serious?" he asked. you laughed at his reaction. "'course not! I'm joking!" you said. "no, you're not." "no, I'm not. please help."

➥ I don't think venti's the type of person to have a car since his tiny legs too short to reach em so-- public bus it is.

➥ immediately, he rushed out of his home and ran towards the nearest bus. luckily for him, the bus was just on its way to leave. "where are you?" he asked.

➥ "uhh... hang on. I'm- AAH--" you shrieked. venti panicked at the sound of your scream. "(y/n)!" "HAH! I managed to outrun them. sucks for them for not being to able to have children now." you said with a laugh.

➥ venti's just relieved to hear you were still okay. "oh, how convenient! there's a bus stop ahead." you said. "that is convenient. stay there, I'll get you." he said.

➥ his eyes trailed at each stop the bus did and when he finally spotted your form, he asked the driver to stop then hopped down, immediately sprinting to you.

➥ "were you hurt?" he asked. "nah. damn, I know I've said that I wanna die a lot of times, but I wasn't ready yet." you said, catching your breath.

➥ venti laughed at your response then pulled you to a tight hug. "let's get you home, then."

☾ albedo

➥ he would probably either drawing, or doing some experiments, mostly the former.

➥ he'd have his phone playing one of those live jazz songs on youtube. he'd prefer to listen to live since it has no advertisement to bother his focus.

➥ while listening to the song and sketching your face by memory, the sound of his phone stopped, replaced by a ringing.

➥ he'd get a bit annoyed, but his previous emotion turned to worry when he saw the caller id. it was 3 in the morning, what on earth were you doing?

➥ "hello, (y/n), is everything alright?" he'd asked. he heard a loud crash from the other line, the sound of something falling at the ground, then followed by the sound of what seemed to be your phone slammed down.

➥ "(y/n)?" he'd ask one more time. in front of his bed was a coat neatly placed on the hanger and he was more than ready to just bolt towards your location.

➥ he'd heard grunts and shuffling for a few times, before he heard your voice. "hey, prince. sorry, was I bothering you?" mans was worried that he couldn't even bring himself to say yes.

➥ "forget about that. what were you doing?" he asked. he heard you let out a nervous laugh. "well, hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?"

➥ albedo was someone aloof that doesn't really show emotions a lot, but the emotion of fear was evident on his face. "run and find a safe spot. I'll get to you. are you somewhere near the place where we would buy art supplies?" he asked, his voice calm and collected, a complete contrast to how he's feeling right now.

➥ "uhh... oh, yes! I can see the light from here." you answered. "good. go inside. the owner should recognise your face, go ask them for help." he suggested. he grabbed his coat and car keys and speed up towards said location.

➥ "alright, thank you." "don't hang up." he reminded. before he could hear your response, the sound of your scream could be heard. his car nearly crashed to a nearby tree at your voice, but he regained composure and continued to made his way to you.

➥ "(y/n)! talk to me! what happened?!" he asked frantically. there was a lot of stumbling sounds followed by your voice saying 'get off of me you fuck!' then a loud 'thud' was heard.

➥ "hey, hey I'm alright. still alive." you said. he took note that you sounded more breathy than before. "I'm inside. the person doesn't seemed to be following me though." you informed.

➥ "that's good. I'm only 2 minutes away. wait for me." he said. once he was there, he immediately went to you, eyes widened slightly at your bleeding form.

➥ that's why you screamed. he took off his coat and covered the bleeding area. the owner was nowhere to be seen, but he returned shortly, bringing a glass of water and a med kit, not surprised to see that albedo was there.

➥ albedo thanked the owner then tend to your wounds for a while. afterwards, he gave thanks to the owner again as he supported your wounded body on his.

➥ once the both of you reached his car, he placed his forehead against yours, one hand on your cheek, the other or your arm, supporting your form. "don't ever scare me like that again."

+

I honestly have no idea how to use Tumblr but it seemed fun.

[4kominato]

A/N: just thought id write something a little more realistic to what id possibly do irl... the whole sex thing aint really my vibe (i admit, it is nice in fics though). its a bit ironic how soft and understanding ive portrayed Mei here 🙃 but idk, my brain really liked him for this fantasy for some reason ~ kuri

Pairing: Narumiya Mei x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff? Smut? (me… expressing my feelings?) - SEXUAL CONTENT

to save you all from disappointment...

[[ OVERVIEW ]] vibrator, male masturbation, fem!voyeurism

Word Count: 1,752

Today is one of those days that you just want to feel good. With the stress of school and work starting to pile up, you decide to reserve some time for yourself to relax and unravel on a day that your boyfriend said he’d be back late. Having been in just an oversized t-shirt and your panties all day, you don’t bother to undress, simply pressing the bullet vibrator that Mei had gifted to you a few months ago for your two year anniversary over the thin material of your underwear and letting the powerful toy effortlessly do its job. The bundle of nerves unravelling in your core has your toes curled and thighs quivering in anticipation of your much needed high, but you’re alarmed by the sound of footsteps approaching the door, making you scramble to turn off the noisy device.

“I’m home!” your vivacious boyfriend announces as he emerges through the bedroom door, “I was able to get out of practice early today!”

“O-oh! That’s good!” you answer nervously, watching as Mei changes out of his uniform and into more casual clothes. After tossing his practice wear into the nearest hamper, he immediately joins you in bed and pulls you into a quick kiss as a greeting.

“So what did you do today?” he asks, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Uh, not much honestly…” you mutter, awkwardly averting eye contact with the painstakingly oblivious boy.

“Did you at least enjoy your day off?”

“Mm… I suppose…”

Finally picking up on your uncomfortable body language, Mei scoots away from you with a worried look and asks, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine!” you quickly assure, feigning a smile in hopes that he’ll drop the issue, but he doesn't. Pouting at you, he reaches out to hold your hand which is balled in a tight fist to conceal your bullet, considering you had nowhere else to hide it with Mei barging in so suddenly.

“Why are you clenching your fist?” he questions, caressing your whitened knuckles with his thumb, “Are you hurt?” Pursing your lips, you remain silent and unwilling to provide an answer for a brief moment, but when you meet his troubled gaze, you feel the concern radiating from his bright blue orbs and can’t help but feel bad for making him anxious over something so miniscule. Letting out a deep sigh you finally uncurl your fingers, releasing the cylindrical piece of plastic into your lover’s palm, which he recognizes immediately seeing how his eyes widen in shock.

“I was using it just before you came in…” you disclose quietly, unable to look at him directly.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” he replies immediately and places the novelty back into your care, “You should have said something earlier. I would’ve left you alone.”

“I didn’t want to just kick you out… Having you home early was a nice surprise.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it now then, alright? I’m going to start preparing dinner.”

Just as he climbs off of the bed, you blurt a quick “Wait!” before he can leave the bedside and you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest. “Stay.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, he strokes the back of your head with one hand and holds you in a tight embrace with the other before responding, “You don’t want to do it anymore?”

“Well… I was thinking…” you start, still hesitant about whether or not you should share with him one of your little reoccurring fantasies.

“You were thinking?” Mei repeats after a long silence, your cliffhanger spawning curiosity within him.

“Um, it’s… kind of embarrassing actually…” you murmur before leaving him hanging yet again.

“You can’t just say that and then change your mind,” he whines and pinches your cheek, “C’mon, just say it. The suspense is killing me.”

You can’t disagree with his point, considering you’d already opened your mouth, it’d be rude to back down now. If you didn’t want to tell him, you shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“I… I was thinking…” you start again, your reluctance to confess what was on your mind causing you to stumble over your words, “I-it might be… well uh… a little weird… b-but um… maybe… you can… y’know… use it on me…” Pulling away from his body, your trembling hand places the toy back into Mei’s calloused one, and while he quickly accepts it from you, his furrowed brows seem to portray a different message.

“Are you sure?” he asks lovingly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to, but… would you enjoy it?”

“I… I’d like to enjoy it… I don’t know for sure if I will,” you admit, still apprehensive of the idea, but hoping you’ll muster up the courage to follow through, “I know it’s not much… but I think it might be good for us to share intimate moments like this together.”

“I’m already satisfied with what we do. You don’t have to force yourself to do more.”

“I want to… for you. Even if we don’t go all the way, I really want to let my walls down with you. It’s the least I can do with how understanding you’ve been over the course of our relationship.”

“How could I not be when I have the best girlfriend ever,” he smiles, cupping your face in his hands, “If you really want to, I’d love to do this with you, but if you aren’t enjoying it, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?”

Nodding up at him, he rejoins you on the bed and gestures for you to sit in his lap, so you do, positioning yourself in between his legs and without hesitation, he wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you flush against him, he peppers soft kisses down your neck, making you hum in satisfaction at the feeling and roll your head back onto his shoulder, granting him further access and he’s quick to accept the invitation.

“I’m ready when you are,” he mutters against your neck between kisses.

“I’m ready…” you answer under your breath, unsure if there is actually truth in the words you’d just spoken. You’d already made up your mind about going through this and you had no intentions of backing down, but the nerves that follow are no joke, considering it isn’t easy allowing yourself to be so vulnerable in front of someone, even should it be someone you’re comfortable with.

At the sound of the obnoxious buzzing initiated by Mei turning on the device, you unintentionally tense up and he feels it, so he immediately turns it back off to check on you.

“Are you okay? You still want to do this?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly, reaching out toward the hand which held the vibrator and turning it back on, “I’m just nervous… but that’s to be expected, right?”

“Well yeah… but don’t forget that you can stop me at any time. Okay?”

Giving him a final nod, Mei proceeds to lower his hand between your legs, pressing the smooth surface of the toy against your clit. You jolt at the abrupt wave of pleasure that sears through your core, but it’s nice for once to be experiencing this while being held in the arms of the one you love most. Having him there somehow adds an extra warmth that you can’t really explain and on top of that, with him doing all the work, you can relax more than you’d normally be able to.

The feeling of him growing hard behind you only adds to the sensation, every twitch of his cock turning you on more than you thought possible, and with heat radiating from your sweet spot and a familiar tension rapidly building up below, you know you won’t last much longer. Entwining your fingers with the ones that lovingly encompass your frame, you squeeze tightly on his hand upon climaxing while the rest of your body convulses rhythmically in response to the sheer bliss rushing through your body.

“I love you,” Mei whispers, turning off the vibrator and setting it aside as you fall limp against him, gradually ascending from your peek.

“I love you more,” you argue breathily, pulling his arms tighter around you while you lay slumped against him, eyes still comfortably closed.

“Impossible,” he refutes with a peck to your cheek before trying to discreetly untangle his arms from yours and urge you off of his lap, “But if you’ll excuse me… I have things to take care of now too.”

“I wanna watch,” you plead, clinging onto his arm to prevent him from leaving the bed.

“Okay,” he agrees and frees his stiff member from the confinement of his briefs. The tip is glistening with pre-cum and you can’t resist swirling the substance around his engorged head, forcing a soft groan out of him.

He allows you to continue toying with the top half while his fingers encircle the base of his shaft, milking out more of his essence for you to play with, but you only indulge for a while more before finally withdrawing your hand and snuggling close to him, pulling him into a heated kiss as he starts to pump himself at a steady pace. Slipping a hand under his shirt, you trace over his tensed abdomen, your extra touch helping to entice his orgasm.

“Pull it up,” Mei speaks desperately, his voice raspy as his hand movements start to speed up. Recognizing his end is nearing, you do as he says, lifting the hem of his shirt to at least his chest and stealing one last peck from him before letting him chase his high.

“Fuck,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his brows knitted together and eyes squeezed shut while his hips jerk upward, his thick seed shooting out in thin ropes over his smooth abdomen.

You can’t help but admire his post-orgasm appearance for a moment before making your way to the master bathroom, retrieving tissues to clean up the mess. There’s just something about him lying there peacefully with beads of sweat on his temples and the sound of his labored breathing that gives him a different glow in comparison to his usual handsome features. It’s really a beautiful sight to witness.

Noticing your staring, a puzzled look forms on Mei’s face before he addresses it, “I know I’m handsome, but you don’t need to stare.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, playfully elbowing him in the arm making the two of you break out into a fit of laughter. It ends with Mei pulling you on top of him and pressing his lips against yours, but momentarily separating them to speak.

“I love you so damn much… I hope you know that I’d do literally anything for you.”

“I do, and that’s why I love you even more.”

[livingdeadinsideyourhead]

Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Hey lovely i realised you were taking requests still...i have a bit of a dramatic one so i dont mind if you dont wanna do it so i have anxiety and depression and when i am feeling really down i sometimes dont answer my phone there was a situation where i was overseas for work and bc of being far away from my bf i got rly depressed and didnt answer my phone and he panicked and nearly flew out to me would you mind recreating that situation with yoongi (seeing he deals with mental illness too)?

Hello love!! Thank you for requesting 💖 For this drabble I’ve drawn from personal experience of how I felt a while ago, so if this is not what you had in mind I'm sorry love. If you feel the need to talk to anyone, please reach out to me, I can be a listening ear or just be there 🥺💖

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

TRIGGER WARNING: DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY

When your boss told you about the business trip to Germany you were so excited you immediately texted Yoongi. This was a huge opportunity for you, enough to shake you out of the new slump you had found yourself in. The trip in and on itself was a piece of cake. You would fly out to Germany a Sunday to be there by Monday, manage a couple of new transactions and write a report for the CEO and fly back by Friday. Simple. Yoongi was ecstatic, so happy about this new opportunity that he couldn’t stop bragging about his wonderful girlfriend who had been promoted and would be travelling the world in no time.

This bragging was endearing and so you had been telling yourself since you told him the news; the problem was that you couldn’t help the tingling at the back of your head telling you that spending time away from him wasn’t what you wanted. You already spent a huge amount of time away from each other when he was on tour, but now you were the one flying away from him, alone, to a foreign country. You didn’t even want to start thinking about how much you would miss him, even less the whole week you would be sleeping alone in a strange hotel room. 

Busy with packing and organising documents you just set your phone in the kitchen table and went about your apartment picking things here and there, double and triple-checking if you had everything you would need. Your laptop and phone were inside your little carry on bag and so was your phone charger. The one you couldn’t find was the laptop’s. You put everything upside down looking for it, looking even under the bed, only to find it rolled and tucked in a corner of your suitcase. The sunglasses were in your bag, so was your lip gloss and your purse, all your credit cards and your ID, your passport. You were double-checking everything again when you heard the code being punched in the keypad. Waiting just a little longer, you heard the pit-pat of Yoongi’s feet against the floor getting closer and closer to your room. 

“I should have known you were packing,” he said, hugging you and leaving a soft kiss to your cheek, “you weren’t answering your phone.”

Giving him a guilty look you apologised for worrying him and kept on packing while he showered. That night you were laying awake waiting for the alarm to ring while Yoongi snored away on the other side of the bed. You would miss him so much, his soft snores and the little pout he made when he slept deeply. Noticing the numbness enveloping your head again, you turned your whole body and buried your head in Yoongi’s chest. He was the best buffer against your darkest moments. 

Before going to the airport and against Yoongi’s moaning — “you have checked this already a hundred times, love.” — you checked everything again, turning off the electrical appliances and closing all the taps. You were really bad at saying goodbye and your boyfriend did know that. With a sweet kiss and several whispered I love you’s you took the taxi to the airport and silenced the tiny voice in your head that was trying to list every single thing that could go wrong. 

Conference after conference you noticed how your brain got slower. You were alone all the time while you managed to do your job by keeping yourself busy and not thinking much. You arrived at your hotel so late at night that the only thing you had the strength to do was showering and dropping on the bed to try and get some sleep. 

You were missing Yoongi so much it physically hurt but you didn’t want to call him. He was three times as busy as you were, even forgetting to eat or sleep if he got too hooked in producing a song. Calling him and telling him you were feeling numb again and that you wanted to hold him and never let go would only worry him. When he called there were two possible scenarios; you either felt guilty for not picking up and worrying him further, or you felt a sudden rush of tears filling your eyes seeing how you longed for him to be there with you. The slower the days passed, the stronger the urge to bury yourself amongst the blankets in the hotel bed and sleep grew. By Wednesday it took you nearly half an hour to convince yourself to pull your body out of the bed. Yoongi had given up calling and started flooding your phone with texts since he woke up until he finally fell asleep quite later than recommended. You were making him worry and that made you feel worse. 

You found yourself getting distracted from the most insignificant task with memories from the first days of your relationship, how shy Yoongi was and how he wouldn’t call you after a day afraid that he was being pushy. The day he had opened up to you about how he felt and you both cried when you found out you had more things in common than met the eye.  On Thursday your boss called you out for being absentminded in the middle of a meeting, he had caught you daydreaming about what Yoongi would be doing back home. You wouldn’t know even if he was already awake because you had switched off your phone, overwhelmed by guilt, nostalgia and the numbness on your head that didn’t let any rational thought go through. Missing him, the crushing sadness and the tight knot in your throat were making it difficult to breathe and function properly. When you got to your hotel room that night, slipping off your shoes and checking your work email on your phone, a notification pops up and you frown, opening your personal email.

Min Yoongi

To: yn-yln@xmail.com

Subject: I am desperate.

My love, you have stopped answering my calls, you ignore my texts and you’re alone in a foreign country. I know what loneliness can do to you and I only want you to be safe. If I don’t receive an answer to this email or any of the thousand texts I’ve sent you I am flying to Germany to make sure you’re alright. I just want to know you are safe, if not okay. 

I love you with my whole heart. 

Yoongi.

Tears had started flowing halfway through the message, making you feel so guilty that you closed the email and were calling Yoongi, not caring about anything that wasn’t hearing his voice at the other side of the line. The tones of the call were low reminders: you have time to hang up, he will be worried, you will only worry him more. But you pushed on, ignoring your anxiety’s voice and waited with bated breath until you heard Yoongi answer the call. 

“Y/N, are you feeling okay? Where are you right now? Have you showered?”

You silenced his endless questions with a quiet sob and sat on the edge of the bed. Oh, how you’d missed his voice! And you told him while sobbing, how hard it had been, how lonely and sad you had felt and how anxious of disturbing him that you had gone back to not picking up the phone and wanting to sleep all day long. He sounded agitated and out of breath but you were so focused on not letting your anxiety drive you into a panic that you didn’t notice. 

“Do something for me, sweetheart,” he was saying, now slower and calmer after finally being able to contact you, “get out of your work clothes and take a hot shower. I won’t hang up and be here with you okay? Can you do this for me?”

Your heart swelled at how he was still taking care of you from so far away. He knew exactly what to do when your thoughts numbed. He would always make you take a shower, drink some water if you couldn’t stomach any food and lay with you while his breathing brought you back. He was not pushy, he didn’t make you talk or explain why you were feeling the way you felt. He was just there, a strong dependable presence that kept you sane. 

Listening to him hum to you about his day and things the rest of his friends had done, you went into the bathroom and undressed slowly. You sat a short bit on the toilet lid and just listened to his voice until you almost smiled at some funny thing Jungkook told him to tell you. In a better mood, you entered the shower and let the spray run down your head, the hot water untangling the many knots on your back and shoulders. You imagined that the heat from the shower was a hug from Yoongi, a warm embrace that you could feel through the distance and you loved him even more than you thought possible. Hearing him still talking while worked away at his keyboard made you smile and you switched off the water, getting out and covering your body with a huge white fluffy towel. 

“You’re finished, my love?” He asked and your heart swelled again.

“Yes. And I’m feeling much better, Yoongi. You’re the best.”

“Well, your day with me isn’t over, missy. Now, I have a ton of new songs separated into genres that I want you to listen to while you lay on the bed and we talk until you fall asleep, okay? Tomorrow, before you know it, you will be back here with me and I’ll be able to hug you to sleep. Is this good enough for now?” He whispered into your ear, as if unsure if you wanted that, but as always he knew perfectly what you needed.

Wearing your pyjamas and under the blankets of the huge bed, Yoongi played songs, melodies, beats, anything he was preparing for release or working on. You two chatted away about where would you go once you could go on vacation together and you fell asleep with a smile on your lips hearing the man you loved telling you he loved you back and finally feeling comfortable and safe again.

[beyoncesdragon]

title: tongue tip trip

➳ pairing: harry styles x reader, best friends to lovers trope but a bit different. 

➳ summary: Harry eats edibles and you come to the rescue...despite almost four months of no talking and zero communication. 

➳ warnings: Harry eats edibles, swearing and some fluff, it’s also fan fiction so its ✨unrealistic✨ okay, also its 1AM I wanna sleep 

➳ a/n: I love this one tbh. but please don’t do drugs children 

Jeff hardly ever called you. Even when Harry and you had still be close, him calling you was a rarity. But when he then did, you couldn't help but feel a bit worried at the sign of his user ID flashing up on your phone. This time was no exception, but besides worry there was also surprise and a whole bunch of uncomfortable memories and unsaid words. You hadn't heard from him (or Harry) in weeks. Sure, Jeff and you still sometimes texted a bit, you also were still in good contact with Claire and especially Mitch and you still got along. Harry and you...well, that was a different and longer story.

Harry and you used to be very close friends. Means, helping him what socks to choose before performing-close friends. You had met a year in Harry going solo, you a simple assistant engineer and him the highly praised Popstar. The two of you had quickly bonded over a few glasses of chilled white wine in the humid air of Jamaica and soon your friendship blossomed in the most beautiful ways. Well it did until you, obviously, started to feel a bit more for the singer. Now, that alone wasn't a problem itself, the fact that Harry knew (you had told him after a few weeks of awkward suffering) wasn't either. The problem was that Harry acted like a dick to anyone you brought around, up to the point where you seemingly couldn't ever date again. Of course Harry wasn't a straight up asshole to them, he still had a reputation to maintain, but he knew how to get under their skin. Just toying with their self-confidence and subtly making them feel like the biggest losers. Oh and, the absolute worst part, all whilst having a girlfriend himself. Which eliminated the possibility of him having feeling for you as a reason why he acted like a jerk. And that angered you more and more and it all escalated in a big, nasty and hurtful fight, around four - five months ago. Since then you hadn't talked, texted or seen each other.

It had been a big change of habit not to get up and first check the phone for messages of him, or simply FaceTime him to check up on his schedule. No spending time at cafes or at the studios with him and the rest of the team. Lucky thing you had other jobs running, on other albums and in other studios around Malibu than his.

He was currently recording music at the Shangri-La studios in Malibu, maybe ten minutes from your flat by car. Which had been described as a "lucky and obviously unplanned extra" by Harry himself, followed by a cheeky grin. You had just rolled your eyes, but secretly happy that he had cared about you being near during his writing process. But now it only left a sour aftertaste in your mouth.

With a sigh you pulled the key out of the ignition and picked up the phone. You figured you could also wait in the parking lot for a few more minutes.

"Hello?"

"Sweetheart? Jeff's here..." you hummed softly, leaning back. 

"Hello there Jeff. Everything alright?" you could hear him cough slightly, before he answered with a weird lilt to his tone. He sounded somewhat stressed out. "Yeah, everything's fine...how have you been?" you shrugged lightly, inspecting your nails. 

"Fine. Working and stuff. I guess same for you?" he was quick to agree, again with that weird cough. 

"Everything okay Jeff? Something happened?" you finally asked, tired of his obvious tip toeing around the real issue. He knew that you weren't so stupid to believe that Jeff had just called you to check up on you at five in the afternoon.

"Well not...quite. I - uh...it's because of Harry. Now, listen, I know the two of you did not part in like, the best ways but..." you couldn't help but close your eyes with a slight wince, "...but you've got to believe me, it's an emergency, kinda." You just sighed. 

"Kinda?" he hummed, saying nothing for a few seconds. "Do I need to talk to him?" you asked into the silence. Jeff was quick to say no however. "Uh...rather not, actually." You blinked surprised. 

"Rather not? Is he drunk?" not that this would be a first, Harry being drunk caller by nature. If he was lucky he then would find himself calling someone like Paul, his old bodyguard, few months ago maybe you, just not one of his exes or someone else you probably shouldn't call anyways – especially not drunk. But this time it didn't seemed to be like that, since Jeff answered hesitantly. "Not exactly, no." your frown deepened at his words, feeling slight annoyance creeping up. "Jeffrey! What's the matter? Is he hurt? In an accident? Called his ex? Called Zayn? What is it? Just tell me already!"

Jeff sighed deeply. "He's high." A relieved huff left your lips. That wasn't half as bad, wasn't it? "That's it? Little weed hurts no body, besides I would've been more concerned if he would've drank. Besides, he almost never does weed..." Jeff interrupted you quickly. "Not exactly weed sweetheart. You remember the uh, edibles I told you about, the ones we stored in the fridge..." A deep groan escaped your lips.

"Are you kidding me?" you groaned, shaking your head. "Well no. However, he accidentally bit of his tongue tip, few minutes ago." Your hand dropped from the steering wheel and smashed down and you accidentally honked, immediately getting confused and outraged looks from the cars passing by.

"He did WHAT?" you meant to hear a smile in Jeff's voice, underneath all the layers of just mild concern. "Yeah's a little unfortunate." you just huffed. A little unfortunate, if that's what they decided to call it, then fine. Nonetheless, Harry should probably visit a doctor. "Can he still sing?" you asked, somewhat defeated. The noise behind Jeff increased, you assumed that he was entering the studio again. "Hold on a sec...can you hear him?" And oh how you could hear him.

He was singing, no yelling on top of his voice, trying to outmatch the speakers that were thumping Paul McCartney's "Too Many People", though unmistakably mumbling a little. Just the sound of his voice made your heart clench in pain a little.

"Yeah I can." You mumbled, wishing for Jeff to talk over Harry's voice again. "So his career isn't in danger right? Means I can just..." Jeff sighed deeply, pleadingly. 

"Y/N, please...he needs medical care." You pouted displeased, spinning the car keys in your fingers. "And you cant drive him because...?" this time he definitely laughed. "What do you think? Harry being the only one on drugs?" you shrugged. "You don't sound like you would bite your tongue off..." he just huffed. "That's because I only had a glass of white wine, but never drink and drive..." you let out a loud laugh, starting your car. "Oh sure! And don't mix drugs with alcohol, right?" he chuckled softly. "Course not. We're that responsible, you know." you just hummed unconvinced, sighing again.

"Okay fine. I'll pick him up." Jeff released a long breath before thanking you warmly. "Thank you so much, angel...how long will you take, you think?" your eyes darted from the rear-view mirror to the road behind the parking lot, before you shifted the reverse gear again to leave the parking.

"About 10 minutes? Maybe?" you guessed, eyeing the traffic suspiciously. It wasn't rush-hour just yet, but there were still plenty of cars on the road. "Okay...oh hi Harry." You immediately tensed up, swallowing hard when you heard Harrys deep voice again.

"Who y'takin to?" Harry spoke as if he had a full mouth, trying not spit out its content. "Oh just...Y/N." Jeff answered truthfully. Harry then said something you couldn't quite understand before Jeff ushered him to go away again with the words; "She'll come in a few minutes anyways." It made you swallow heavily; had Harry asked to talk to you? You stopped the thoughts and focused on the road again. "I'll see you in five." And with that you hung up.

❦

Harry and Jeff were already waiting in front of the studio when you pulled up, Harry having a bloody cloth pressed to his mouth. They looked like father and son, right off the principal's office for starting a fight on campus. It almost made you laugh. Then your eyes met and the amusement left your body as quickly as it came. You were not ready to face him again, even after all those months.

"Thank you so much Y/N, I owe you...you good H?" Jeff asked as he opened the passenger door. "Yeh, m'fine, fanks." Harry mumbled, eyes darting up to meet yours, just to look away immediately. "We'll be back soon." You sighed, not yet ready to properly greet Harry. Or look at him, for starters. To be fair, he wasn't doing any better. "Sure. I hope he doesn't bleed on your seats." Jeff joked, well aware of the weird tension. You just shrugged, waving him goodbye. "See you in a few Jeff." Or not, but you didn't know that yet.

The ride was almost completely silent expect for the time where you asked if he was okay and he mumbled a "yeh". The radio was filling the silence and you were glad for it. The songs weren't that good at the moment, you just wanted something to be loud and talking, even if it was just the obnoxious radio host who kept cutting off the songs. That was until "Change" by RM and Wale started to play and you perked up immediately. A happy smile crept on your face as you recognised the tune. You yourself had helped with the song and you proudly acknowledged the credit they gave you. You hadn't expected it to be played over here in America, but you were happy it was. Harry had obviously noticed your change of behaviour and carefully peaked over.

"Y'know tha'shong?" you nodded, momentarily forgetting that Harry and you hadn't interacted the last ten minutes. "Helped write it. With Namjoon, aka. RM and Wale." Harry nodded slowly. "Ish Namjhoon f'om...?" he tried and you nodded. "BTS? Yeah." He just nodded again. The next second Wale already mentioned BTS in his verse and Harry huffed. "Oh."

"I've sheen - seen the pictures of you n'him." you quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, he was nice." Harry nodded again, another stolen glance into your direction. "Lishten..." he started but you cut him off. You already knew what he was about to say anyways.

"Let's not have this conversation now Harry. Please. Let's talk when there isn't blood gushing from your mouth." He nodded, but his shoulders relaxed a little bit. After all, he was glad you were up to talk, even if it wasn't just right now, but a bit later on. He had time anyways. He peaked over again, taking in the sight of you. Your hair was now longer than last time and your face somehow sharper – maybe you had lost weight. Also, there was a soft frown etched in between your brows, and there wasn't this soft glow you've always carried in your eyes. Long story short: You looked worn out and stressed, and Harry couldn't really tell if it was because you were sat in the same car as he was, or if it had to do with something else that was going on.

"How're ya?" it slowly got painful to speak, the edible was definitely wearing off now, but Harry still tried. He had missed your voice after all, it didn't matter how cold your tone had become. Just at the mentioning of that Namjoon you had sounded more like the Y/N he knew.

"I've been okay. Had lots of work...different countries and continents. S'been a busy few months." You felt unsure as how to talk to him, of you were fully honest. Should you say that you had absolutely hated working in Malibu since the fight? Should you say that you hadn't slept properly because you hated having fights with friends? Especially close friends? He probably knew anyways. Harry always knew somehow.

"I wont ask you about yourself until your tongue is patched up again, though. So you better shut up Styles." He chuckled softly, and the hint of the old Harry and Y/N relationship seemed to spark up again. The last five or so minutes were spent in silence again, but comfortable this time.

❦

Luckily Harry did not go recognised by anyone else than the Doctor. And the doctor probably only realised fully, because she asked for the name. Harry, still not fully functionable, had then looked over to you, expecting you to do the talking. Which made sense, of course, but truth behold, he had just forgotten his middle and last name. And the address of the place he was staying at (the studios) was completely wiped from his memory. He was lucky you were with him. It also turned out that he had completely bit off a few millimetres of tongue, a clean bite. You had almost gaged at those words and Harry had supressed a grin. It meant that Harry needed no stitches (apparently it was sort of possible to stitch a tongue back together), but daily check-ups and cleaning or cleansing of the mouth was mandatory.

"Check the injurie daily for changes in appearance or feel. Wounds in the mouth that are clean and healthy may appear light pink to white." She had started to almost exclusively talk to you, aware of Harry's partly delirious state, giving you all the information you needed to patch him up a bit. You nodded slowly.

"Alright. Just...how do you cleanse the mouth?" The Doctor gave you a kind smile. "Very easy. Rinse the mouth with a saltwater solution after eating to ease pain and keep the wound clean. That is very important, so the wound doesn't infect. The saltwater solution is just one teaspoon of non-iodized salt mixed in one cup of warm water." You nodded slowly. "One last thing: if the colour of the wound changes, starts bleeding again, swells up or you notice a visible deformity, immediately come back. Also, if the pain intensifies and does not improve within two hours of taking over-the-counter pain medication, such as ibuprofen or acetaminophen, have somebody call us, or better come around. That is all we can do right now."

You were almost happy when you could leave the hospital with him, especially because Harry now grew tired and needy. You weren't sure if the disappearing edible had that effect or if you had just forgotten how clingy Harry could get, but you had troubles getting him to let go of your arm and sit into the car. And your deeply hidden and buried feelings for him slowly made an unwanted comeback, and you were not quite excited for that. You should've known that they would come again, after all, you never really got over him in the first place.

Harry insisted on you staying the night. He blabbed something about risk of getting kidnapped and abused at night alone (not entirely wrong, sadly) and him not letting his friend leave at hours that late and also he apparently needed you if something happened again. He just wouldn't admit that he couldn't let you walk out the door because he feared you wouldn't come back. as if you could just do that after today. But whatever it was, you did stay. In one of the three bedrooms of the Studio you had claimed a bed, and even got some spare clothes for sleep from Claire herself. You had called her, asking for them, as they had all already left.

Just when you thought you were done for the day, teeth brushed and dressed in Claires 1975 shirt size XL, you hear a knock on your door. "Come in?" You knew it was Harry, that wasn't the part that surprised you. the part that surprised you, was that it was Harry with a tray and on that tray were cups and kettle and it smelled like camomile tea and honey. And cookies, with chocolate chips even and some grapes.

"Hi." He just whispered, embarrassment written all over his face. "Hi?" you weren't sure how to react to this but quickly patted on the bed next to you. "Wanna sit down? Or wait, sHit down, as you would say it." He giggled softly, before he nodded and carefully sat down opposite of you, balancing the tray carefully between the two of you.

"I figured it would be better to talk now in peace? If you're up to, f'course." You couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face. "Shure." You mocked his lisp and he huffed at that, swatting his hand into your direction. "Shtop it really hurt." You just rolled your eyes at him, motioning towards the tray between the two of you. "That's very cute by the way. I love camomile tea with honey." He grinned smugly. "I know." The tea steamed softly when he poured it into the cups, his brows furrowed in concentration to not spill it on the sheets. You watched him with a fond look in your eyes. You hadn't been fully aware of how much you had really missed him in all these months. Right now it felt like the feeling was overwhelming and would crush you out of a sudden.

"Everything a'ight?" Harry's concerned voice ripped you from your thoughts and you blinked quickly. Your eyes had started to water and you looked away embarrassed. "Yeah...guess I just missed you." his eyes immediately went soft, and he set the cups down on the tray. 

"I missed ye too." He said, sounding a bit helpless. You cleared your throat, shaking your head quickly. 

"Okay so what happened that day; Harry I want to sincerely apologise. What I said went too far." He just smiled softly. "I should've went first. S'my fault after all, let's not beat around the bushes. I am sh-sorry. I shouldn't've said all those things, it was truly horrible. You're not clingy, you don't ever bothered me and also, the men you brought around weren't all dicks. And yes I did ruin it purposely." He couldn't even look at you anymore, shame so obvious in his face and voice and body language. "It's fine...I could've dated anyone anyways that time." You tried softly, swallowing down the "Still can't, believe me, I tried." He just shook his head. "No, really Y/N, that was extremely hurtful and inappropriate and I was the biggest...dick to do all that. I am so sorry. You had all right on earth to walk out like that. and to call me a heartless, self-absorbed douche, I guess I deserved that...that and all the other things you called me." that did make you laugh a bit.

"Arrogant son of a bitch? That one?" he grinned softly. "Exactly that one. I uh, used that, by the way. In a song, I hope you don't mind." Your eyebrows shot up at that. "You called yourself an arrogant son of a bitch?" He nodded sheepishly. "An arrogant shon of a bitch who can't admit that he is shorry, and I quoted that." you laughed now, loudly. "Bit harsh, innit?" he shrugged, coquettishly raising the tea cup to his lips. "Heard it from shomewhere." You just hummed softly, lifting your cup as well.

A deep sigh rose your chest as you looked at him again, that bright flicker in his eyes again, that lopsided smirk he wore so well. You knew that your crush was back on fully, but right now you didn't even minded it. Harry gave you a small smile, the mischief slowly draining from his green eyes. he seemed to catch on to that shift of your emotions and carefully placed his cup down on the tray, before then carefully placing the tray on the floor and opening his arms. 

"C'mere?" you did, immediately.

And for the first time in months you could fully relax. Surrounded by Harry's scent in Harry's arm and listening to Harry's heartbeat. Completely absorbed and surrounded by everything you loved. "Sorry." You mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, feeling how his arms tightened around you. "Me too. I fucking misshed you." you chuckled softly. "Misshed you too, shon of a bitch." His laughter sent vibrations through your body.

"About that Korean dude..." Harry suddenly asked, making your peak up to him. "Namjoon? What about him?" he cleared his throat. "Just...did you like, date or something?" you grinned softly. 

"Pretty sure he had something going on with a girl the time I was over there. Maybe he still has. Why? You wanna scare him off again?" he just laughed. "I don't do that anymore. I was just...curious you know. You've always had a thing for these Korean men." You grinned softly.

"Are you now talking Stray Kids or Bangtan or EXO or GOT7..." Harry groaned, "so what. You got something to say about that?" he shook his head. "Course not." You hummed. "And what do you mean, I don't do that anymore? Why did you even do it, like in the first place?" Harry sighed very deeply at that.

"I guess because...okay, promise you listen to the end and don't get upset with me too much, yeah?" you frowned, a bit mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to follow. 

"Okay? Promised."

"Alright, now...I think I couldn't just...let you be and date who you want because I am a very selfish person? I know I know, you probably think: but selfish about what and I can only confess...probably you? No, not probably, I am sure." The words were bubbling out of him as if someone flipped a switch and now he couldn't stop anymore. "I couldn't see you date someone else and...give them all of your attention. And I know, I myself was in a relationship during that time, I know, but I just...I can't describe it." Your eyes grew wider and wider with every hasty rambled sentence and your lips were slightly parted. "It was as if was...jealous, which is weird because I wasn't into you then, no offense please, I mean I had a girlfriend..." 

"Hold on, what do you mean, wasn't into you then?" you cut him off and Harry literally froze. His eyes went wide with realisation and his mouth opened, as if he would try to reply something; but there was no sound. All he could think of, was one word, all in capital letters and blinking red: fuck.

"I uh, did I say then?" you clicked with your tongue, an amused grin flitting over your face. 

"You did." A blush now covered his cheeks and he cleared his throat eagerly. You moved away from his embrace to get a better look at the man sitting in front of you. 

"You did say then. Something changed?" your tone was joking but hidden beneath the layers of sarcasm there was a flicker of something else...hope.

"I...I mean I don't...would it be like...do you still feel the same?" you didn't immediately answered, trying to process what you were hearing. After weeks of pinning and then months of not talking at all, he was confessing – or somewhat confessing – that there was a chance that he now actually liked you back? How was that even possible?

Harry however read your silence as something else than confusion and being overwhelmed with the situation. His face fell from nervous to disappointed and hurt, though he tried to mask those emotions quickly. "Which is of course fine and like, obviously you don't, I mean..." he spoke, and it wasn't entirely clear if he was talking to you or himself.

"I didn't even answer H." you mumbled, tilting your head. "Of course you di- wait what do you mean?" there was this same spark of hope in his voice as there had been in your voice. "If I told you, that nothing changed, what would that mean?" you breathed after a second of hesitation and staring into his wide eyes, filled with fear, nervousness, hope and...vulnerability. At your words there was a small smile that started to tug on his lips, like a light igniting his eyes. 

"It would mean that I...uhm, I would then shoot my shot?" you couldn't help it.

"Was that hard to say?" he blinked confused. "Shoot your shot..." you teased and he groaned loudly. "Oh hush, you are unbearable." You giggled, winking obnoxiously. "You decided to eat those edibles. Also, I am worth a shot, no?" he huffed, leaping forwards to pull you back into his arms. "Oh definitely..." you grinned up at him before your breath hitched in your throat at the realisation of his sudden closeness. Eyes flickering to his lips you just waited. But when he leaned in you cleared you throat softly, making him halt. "Before you do that...just please tell me why now." He never moved back just pressed his lips together for a second, thinking of the right choice of words. "In those month where we didn't talk, I had a lot, and I mean a lot of time to think and reflect about the whole situation. About you, about how I felt about you and your partners, how your confession had changed the way I saw or felt certain things...also, Jeff's talked a lot with me about it. The fight and stuff. And then when I saw you again I just...knew? I don't know..." you cut him off with a short nod. 

"Okay that's good, now kiss me please." He just laughed before finally, finally closing the gap between the two of you.

And your lips on his made him feel better, lighter and higher than any fucking edible could've ever made him feel.

here are flowers for u, if u rly read this ily 💐💐💐

➳m.list   ➳h.s. m.list   ➳wattpad

[breakable-girls-and-boys]

Crooked Smile Chapter 1

a/n this fic is very angsty. it’ll end happy, I promise. but you have been warned.

~This empty end was never something of your choosing. You could have won but you were much too busy losing~

Holly’s flight docked at the Toronto Pearson International Airport gate at exactly 23:37. She grabbed her bag and her carry on and followed the rest of the passengers off of the plane. Holly trudged her way to baggage claim to meet her friends and collect her luggage. Most of her belongings were being shipped from San Fransisco this week, so all she had brought with her were enough clothes to get through the week and several of her favorite books. Turning the corner, she saw her friends Lisa and Rachel waiting for her at the baggage claim. Immediately, she picked up her pace and when she was within a reasonable distance, she dropped her belongings and jogged the rest of the way, enveloping her two friends in a tight hug.

“You are not allowed to leave. Ever again,” Rachel said, squeezing Holly back.

Holly released her friends and walked back to retrieve her abandoned belongings, and the three of them sauntered over to the baggage claim area to wait for Holly’s other bag.

“I still don’t know why you came back. I would have stayed in San Francisco,” Lisa said as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. “It’s too goddamn cold here.”

“It was great, but this is home. I missed you guys too much,” Holly replied just as she spotted her bag. Shouldering her way through bystanders, she hoisted her bag off the conveyer belt and hauled it back towards the other two women.

As the three friends began the walk to the car, Holly continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I loved every moment of my job and the opportunity it provided. But San Franciscans are weird and I missed the cold.”

“Well that’s great and all, but two years is just way too long. We need a good old fashioned girls’ night,” Rachel said.

“Yes!” Lisa exclaimed. “Ooo, there’s a new club I’ve been dying to check out!”

“We can absolutely have a girls’ night, but not tonight,” Holly said. Rachel pouted while Lisa began to whine something about how Holly ‘doesn’t really love us’.

“I’m tired,” Holly continued, “I just spent the last five hours on a plane. I’m jet-lagged. I’m going home, and I’m going right to bed.”

Rachel helped Holly load her luggage in the trunk before climbing into the driver’s seat. Holly joined her in the front passenger seat, while Lisa flopped into the back seat, still sulking and mumbling ‘Holly the buzzkill’ under her breath.

The 20 minute car ride was spent mostly in silence. Holly was trying too hard to keep her eyes open to deal with Lisa’s broodiness, and Rachel was content to let them be. Rachel pulled into the driveway of Holly’s townhouse and popped the trunk. She helped Holly bring her bags into the foyer. Setting her suitcase down, Holly sleepily turned to her friend.

“Get some rest, girl,” Rachel said, smiling at Holly, who was too exhausted to stand straight. “We’ll figure out a time to get together.”

“Thank you for picking me up,” Holly mumbled, stumbling forward to pull her friend into a brief hug.

“Any time. We’re glad you’re back.” With that, Rachel turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Holly threw the lock and dragged herself upstairs to her bedroom, not even bothering with her bags. She fell on top of her bed fully clothed, asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

————

A week after Holly’s return, Lisa had finally gotten her wish: the three friends were on their way to a new club. Holly couldn’t remember the name of it at the moment, and she wasn’t overly thrilled about going out. She had wanted to stay home and read in a hot a bath, but Lisa had called her a recluse and reminded her that she had abandoned them for two whole years. So Holly had conceded and gotten dressed up. As the three of them approached the club, she remembered the other reason she wasn’t thrilled: the club was obnoxiously named Lush, which was obviously meant to convey that this was an upper class establishment. In Holly’s opinion, it was quite ironic. And judging by the group of scantily clad sorority girls in front of them, she knew exactly the kind of people who frequented this establishment, so it was no surprise Lisa had dragged them here.

Holly handed the bouncer her ID as he eyed her simple button up shirt and jeans with thinly veiled disapproval. She yanked her ID back and mumbled an insincere ‘thanks’ as he waved her through the door. Following Lisa and Rachel to the bar, she took in the crowd of people swarming it and grimaced. She’d have a hard time getting a drink tonight, what with all the bartenders drooling over the half-dressed women.

Rachel and Holly shared a look of misery. Lisa, completely oblivious, waved enthusiastically at a man by the bar and rushed over to greet him. Holly and Rachel remained where they stood, taking in their surroundings. The club had an upper level, with tables and balconies where patrons could look down on the dance floor. The main level had chairs and tables lining the walls, but most of the floor was devoted to the dance floor and DJ booth, where an overly passionate man moved rhythmically back and forth between spin tables.

Minutes later, Lisa and the man from the bar were walking back towards them, several drinks in hand. Lisa handed Rachel and Holly each a mixed drink.

“Guys, this is Ryan. He and I did our residency together,” Lisa introduced the man next to her.

Ryan smiled at the two of them as Holly took in his appearance. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, his dark hair was slicked back and beard short and precisely trimmed. Of course he was a plastic surgeon.

“My friends have a table over against the wall, if you ladies would like to sit down?” Ryan suggested, gesturing to the wall across the room.

“Sure,” Rachel said cheerfully.

Holly shot her friend a look of betrayal. Rachel laughed and bumped Holly with her hip.

“Come on, indulge your inner sorority girl,” she said as she and Holly trailed after Lisa and Ryan.

————

About an hour and a half later, Holly was working on her 6th drink. To say she was a little buzzed was an understatement. Ryan’s friends kept buying her and Rachel drinks, and she was not about to turn down the free alcohol. Rachel was sitting in the corner, being flirted with by one of Ryan’s friends. She thought he had said his name was Mike? It was thoroughly entertaining: Mike was trying very hard to get Rachel to dance with him, and Rachel was very politely shutting him down at every turn.

While Holly was distracted, one of the other men at the table made his way over to her.

“Can I get you another drink?” he asked as he set his own drink on the table, situating himself directly in front of her.

Holly looked up at him and shook her head no.

“Thank you, though,” she said.

“You sure?” He said with a toothy smile, shifting forward a little. He was wearing a grey-blue shirt with a solid black tie and black slacks. His long blonde hair was tied back in a pretentious man-bun and his beard was short and neat. “I’m Chad.”

“Holly,” she replied.

“So Holly, what do you do?”

“I’m a forensic pathologist,” Holly answered and took a sip of her drink.

“So you’re like a doctor? Very hot,” Chad drawled, running his eyes over Holly’s body and reaching for his own drink.

Holly choked on her Caesar, but Chad didn’t seem to notice.

“Uh, sure,” Holly giggled, “if you’re a necrophiliac.”

A confused look crossed Chad’s face.

Holly laughed harder. “Never mind.”

Chad shrugged off the comment and smiled at her once again.

“So, do you wanna dance or maybe get out of here?” Chad asked as he took a step closer, looking over-eager.

“Look, Chad, you seem really…” Holly struggled to find the right word, “uh, nice. But I—”

Holly’s sentence was cut short as something flashed in the corner of her eye. Holly turned to see what it was that had distracted her. As the object came into focus, Holly froze. Her breath hitched and she dropped her drink.

“Shit!” Chad yelled. “My shoes! What the fuck is your problem?”

Rachel was there in a flash, shoving Chad away from Holly. She had turned at Chad’s outburst and immediately saw who Holly was looking at.

Gail Peck was standing by the bar, drink in hand. Next to her was Traci Nash and Gail’s brother, Steve. Her hair was longer than Holly remembered, down past her shoulders. Her hair had soft curls and was pulled back behind her ear on one side. She was wearing dark jeans and a fitted, red henley.

The three of them began moving towards the tables. Towards Holly. Rachel saw the exact moment that Gail registered Holly’s presence. Gail paused, turned to Traci and Steve, who had happened upon an empty table, and spoke to them before making her way towards Holly.

Holly had finally remembered how to breathe. Abruptly standing from the chair, she took a couple steps towards Gail.

“Holly, hey,” Gail said quietly. Holly could barely hear her above the roar of the music.

Holly gulped. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Gail repeated.

“You said that already.” Holly said, smiling.

“You know, it sounded familiar,” Gail quipped. She took another step towards Holly and continued, “How is San Fransisco?”

“It’s good. Too hot for my tastes. I actually just moved back to Toronto.”

Gail’s eyes widened briefly before her stoicism returned. She nodded once.

“How have you been, Gail?” Holly asked.

“Good, I’ve been good,” Gail answered. She was about to say something else but was interrupted by the approach of another woman, who put her arm around Gail’s waist.

“Hey babe,” the woman chirped, flashing Gail with a dazzling smile.

Gail looked at her and then back at Holly. Sadness flashed briefly across her features but was quickly replaced with a hard look.

“Holly, this is my fiancée, Sarah. Sarah, this is my old friend, Holly.” Gail’s voice was soft but flat as she introduced the two.

Holly felt her heart plummet. Nausea roiled in her stomach and her mouth went dry. Blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, she extended her hand to the other woman. At that very moment, Rachel swooped in and grabbed Holly’s arm.

“Gail, hi! Lovely to see you. I’m so sorry, but I need to steal Holly away, it’s an emergency,” Rachel said pleasantly, taking Holly by the shoulder and physically turning her back towards Ryan’s group.

Holly turned to glance back at Gail, lifting a hand in a feeble goodbye. Gail nodded at Holly in return and led Sarah back towards Traci and Steve.

Holly stood like a stone while Rachel went about gathering their belongings and bundling Holly into her coat. It was then that Chad and Mike walked over.

“You guys are just gonna leave? The night has only just begun!” Mike exclaimed.

Chad grabbed Holly’s hand. “Come on, stay.”

Rachel moved between them.

“We’re leaving,” Rachel said flatly.

“You don’t speak for her,” Chad said, puffing out his chest.

“She’s gay, you nimrod,” Rachel sneered. With that she turned Holly toward the entrance and they walked out into the night.

————

Gail took a long drink as she watched Rachel yank Holly out of the club. Traci watched her watch Holly.

“You ok, Gail?” Traci asked a little too knowingly.

Gail swallowed hard and nodded once.

“So how do you know her?” Sarah asked innocently. The silence her question provoked was more than a little tense.

Gail cleared her throat. “Uh, we used to work together. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“She worked at the morgue,” Traci clarified.

“Oh, gotcha. She’s cute,” Sarah said nonchalantly and took a drink.

Traci and Steve both looked at Gail, whose cheeks were flushed bright red. For once Gail was thankful clubs were so dark.

————

Having managed to get Holly out of her clothes and into her pajamas, Rachel helped her friend into bed. Holly just let her, silent and unmoving, unless pushed.

“Did you know?” She asked at last, voice cracking.

“Did I know Gail was engaged?” Rachel clarified, tucking her in. Holly nodded. “No, I didn’t.”

Rachel sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so sorry, hun. I didn’t even think about running into her. But also, it’s been two years, I thought you said you were over her?”

“I thought I was,” Holly whispered, twisting the sheets between her fingers.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Rachel asked, resting a tender hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Holly nodded.

“Ok,” Rachel said. She kissed Holly’s forehead and went about changing into some of Holly’s spare pajamas. She shut off the light, crawled into bed, and held Holly as she cried herself to sleep.

[setsailslash]

Hooker Jason?

this is underage hooker jason/dr. thomas wayne set in flashpoint verse featuring father todd and also batman(thomas) because when you don’t specify my brain does weird things ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Then.

Standing at a street corner, shirt cut too low, torn pair of jeans too tight, Jason glances at the car itself and the way it parks just a little further than any of the regulars would to know it’s a newcomer seeking just the kind of thrill he provides.

He waves with a smile, mouth curling sweetly in invitation, and waits for the slow roll of the passenger side window to come down a slit before he starts walking over. 

Looking both ways before he crosses the street.

The car is nice, like really fucking nice. A lot of money in a top of the line Bentley with chrome rims. Jason would whistle if that wasn’t the point here, all low and sharp and impressed as he sweeps a hand over the sleek side of it. The sheer power contained within the machinery more of a turn-on than anything the man sitting inside could be packing.

When the window comes down further, Jason leans over until the driver can see the glint of his nipple piercings when the collar of his low cut tee swoops down even further. 

“What’s your name, handsome?” Jason asks before he can even see the man’s face, half hidden in the shadows. But when he does, he’s got to blink because, well, handsome is his go to but he never actually means it to describe any of his clients. 

Until now, it seems.

“Thomas.” It’s a nervous edge but the man answers at least, and it seems like at least this part is familiar to him. Jason has to smile again.

“Well, Thomas,” a stress placed on the sound of his name as he says it, mouth wrapping deliberately around it. A lick of his lips, a tilt of his head, Jason asks. “Think you wanna take me for a ride?”

-

Now.

When he meets him again, it feels like it should be some kind of alternate realities or the parallel kind, like he’s read in those sci-fy novels.

Because it hasn’t just been years, it’s been a decade. 

The kind where he really hasn’t been thinking of the other man at all. 

The last time Jason had the man cross his mind, well, the man’s kid was gunned down in an alleyway much like where they first met. The news latched on like a dog with a bone, and the reports went on and on of a little boy murdered. Like kids didn’t die every day in the Narrows. But Jason guesses all those other boys and girls didn’t have all the prospects a shithole like Gotham could offer placed upon a single silver spoon.

Jason isn’t Jay or whatever name his client wanted to groan out loud when they grabbed his hair and jerked his head back just so they could come messily across his face. 

Jason is Father Todd with a parish of his own, and has been for years too.

He is blinking his eyes at him because when the cowl comes off, it’s—

“Doc?”

It’s a second life here they are living when they meet each other once more. A hooker turned priest staring down at a surgeon turned vigilante. It all sounds a bit surreal, made up really, if he’s being honest with himself.

“Jason.”

Thomas brings down the gun he had levelled at the Father, shoulders sloping down, heavily.

-

Then.

Jason has himself draped over the middle console, the stick shift digging into the side of his hip as he finally pops open the buckle of Thomas’ belt. “You don’t have to be shy with me.”

He turns to look at the man, sees how he glances at everything in the interior of the car except for Jason, and really, he can’t have that. He isn’t proud of this job, but he takes a bit of pride in how he does it.

Jason lets out a soft little sigh that catches the man’s attention, waits until Thomas is finally looking before he reaches over, takes Thomas’ hand into his so he can drag it to cup his own groin. A flutter of his lashes, and he is rocking his hips, pushing his hard-on inside of his tight jeans into Thomas’ palm. 

“Now, I’m going to suck you off.” Jason tells him, and hopes a little bit of clear instructions will bring the man back to focus on him. 

Thomas nods, squeezes him gently through his jeans and Jason breathes hard. “Can I do something for you?”

It’s a weird fucking thing for a john to ask him that, and Jason nearly gets taken aback by it. But he thinks on it, settles on it, and tells Thomas with a smile. “You can finger me if you want but if you wanna fuck, that’s gonna be extra.”

Sways his ass in the passenger seat too as encouragement.

Even in the shitty lighting of the alleyway they’ve pulled into, Thomas’ face is still terribly handsome even as it is half shrouded in the shadows. His voice too sounds warm and kind. “I just want to make you feel good too.”

“You’re sweet, doc.” Jason tells him as his fingers work the button of the man’s slacks open and then the zipper down. 

Thomas freezes up, and Jason laughs, tips his chin to the Gotham General lanyard still around the man’s neck ending at an ID card for one Dr. Thomas Wayne before he swallows him down.

-

Now.

He stands just before the altar, looking down at the man he thought he knew. 

Time passes, people change. Some more extreme than others, he reminds himself. Thomas Wayne is older, eye weary, dangerous even, and he carries himself like he’s been fighting a losing war for far too long.

Jason isn’t sure what Thomas sees in him now, isn’t sure he wants to know. He’s died, he’s come back to life. He’s seen all of the truly awful things in life and learned that the world can be beautiful and good too. Jason has taken his second chance.

It seems like Thomas Wayne has too.

“My church can be a sanctuary if you want it to be.” Father Todd says to him. His voice kept even, an invitation but one with conditions. “But I won’t have you bringing any of your troubles here where people will get hurt.”

“People already got hurt.”

There is steel edge to Thomas’ voice, he’s a man standing on the ledge no matter how metaphorical, finger itching and Jason doesn’t need to look closely to know the kind of weaponry Thomas is packing beneath the armour he’s got on.

That’s Batman, and he’s never not been ruthless. Blood could be dripping off of the black Kevlar and Father Todd really shouldn’t be fazed.

“Are you here to talk, or are you here to fight?” Jason asks, trying not to bring his arms up to cross them over his chest in defense.

“Why?“ Thomas chuckles, the sound low and deep, feels like the slow crawling seep of heat beneath his skin, and there’s no reason why Jason should feel it at the distance that they’re at. "You gonna fight me, Father?”

“Not even if you asked for old time’s sake.” 

Jason feels like he’s here trying to talk a man off from that ledge. 

“You’ve come a long way from turning tricks in Crime Alley, Father.”

Jason knows this game. Knows Thomas only dredges up the past if just to bring Jason down to where he’s stuck at. It stays, it sticks, like a bad taste at the back of his throat migrating forward. Death has a funny way of changing people. Jason tries to let Thomas down, gently, for all the times the man had shown him some resemblance of kindness even when he didn’t have to.

“Not really, doc. It’s only three blocks.”

-

Then.

When Thomas Wayne comes inside of his mouth, Jason drinks it all down.

He drags his lips along the softening shaft to catch the stray drops he couldn’t swallow on the first try, runs the tip of his tongue over the sensitive head until he’s cleaned the man up. 

Jason lets Thomas drag his fingers in and out of his hole a few more times before he whines for him not to make him come, murmurs with his tongue still bitter from the taste of the man’s release that he doesn’t want a mess inside of his pants the rest of the night. Jason is panting softly, clenching down out of reflex, hole squeezing in rhythm around two of Thomas’ fingers buried to the last knuckle inside of him. 

His breathing hitches at the graze of the pads of those fingertips across his prostate when he does. And it’s like they are almost reluctant when Thomas gently withdraws them from the tight hot clutch of his body, leaving them both a bit breathless from it.

Jason makes a noise, and it catches himself off guard. 

Either Thomas doesn’t notice or he doesn’t mind it, because the man is zipping up, tipping his head back until he is staring at the ceiling of his Bentley to confess.

“Christ, you’re barely older than my kid.”

It’s not true, Jason is at least a good five years older than Thomas’ little boy but that’s not the fantasy he is selling here even if plenty of other men would buy him up for the night just for that. 

Jason laughs, and there’s still innocence in the way he lets it settle inside of the car before he tells him. “I’m eighteen.”

Thomas looks over at him, gives him a look that’s entirely fatherly when he replies, deadpanned. “And I’m husband of the year.”

Jason shrugs, doesn’t tell him his real age and they call it even.

“I’d say don’t do it again, but I’m not that good of a guy.” He takes what Thomas hands him and it’s more than double of his usual fees even when he takes Brother Blood’s cut out of it. “If you come back around, I’d love to see you again, doc.”

Thomas laughs, and it’s a tad bit hollow. Jason knows that kind of laughter, it’s of a man coming into the full understanding of his own actions.

“We’ll see, Jason.” 

He separates the cash into two piles, tucks each one into a respective backpocket, buttons up his jeans, and opens the door. There is the rush of a late night Gotham chill rushing in, making the stark stench of sex from the interior of the car that much sharper.

Jason revels in that.

[quirkyquirkyimagines]

Day 5; Christmas Elf Part Two.

Tamaki x Single Parent Reader

Warning; it’s a little long!

You woke up extremely excited for today. Your daughter was going to be having a Christmas party in her classroom and you couldn't be happy. You see her father is no longer in the picture, he claimed it was a one night stand and he didn't really want to be tied down so he dropped you once he found out. It wasn't hard to track down the flame villain. You of course were extremely upset and threatened to end him right there, you would have done it if it wasn't for the villains that surrounded you. You let him be and raised your daughter on your own.

It was quite hard to find work being a pregnant hero, but having to deal with office work and desk duty was worth it for you to bring in a healthy beautiful baby girl. Once your body went back to the new normal, you followed up the path to be a hero and found yourself working at an agency that specialized in the newcomers. You really hoped to get the push you needed but they seemed to have you on the back burner while they pushed the new duo Fire-N-Desire.

"Hello good morning Sir!" You spoke.

"Yes (Last name)?"

"I was just saying good morning and I would like to know if I can be excused at three thirty"

"Why?"

"My daughter has an event at her school and all parents are invited"

"Hmm we'll see. Now back to work"

You left the office of your boss and sat down at your desk.

You really wanted to be released at three thirty, you couldn't miss this for the world. She's been feeling down a lot lately, ever since her previous schoolmates made fun of her for not having a father and having a villains quirk. You had to move her to another school and feared she wasn't fitting in.

"Hey (H/n) want to cover this report for me?" Magenta the color hero asked.

"Sure, got called out?" You asked

"Yeah they need my skills, thanks! I'll get you lunch!"

You filled out paperwork after paperwork, the clock was getting closer to three. You rushed through everything the other heroes didn't want to do.

"Just leave it to (H/n) I'm sure she can handle it" a voice spoke.

"I'm sorry but I can't. I need to go now"

"You do not say no to Fire-N-Desire! Get back here and do our work for us" another one yelled.

"I'm sorry but no, I will not do your work or anyone's work besides my own! No excuse me I need to leave!" You finally shouted back before leaving your desk.

"If you leave right now you're fired!" Your boss yelled.

"Go head fire me! I love my daughter more then my job!"

Leaving the horrible office you traveled down to the school, in your haze you failed to see how you traveled down to the wrong school, her former school.

"Shit!"

Finally traveling down to the right school, you rushed in with your arms full with bags of snacks she was supposed to provide.

Sitting next to her she looked miserable, everyone in class was chatting away expect her.

"E-e-excuse me but d-do you w-Wanna play?" A shy sweet voice rang out. I turned to look at the adorable little misses clause.

"I like your outfit" I spoke to her causing her to blush.

"O-Oh! Thanks my daddy got it for me, so can I play with her?"

"I'm sure Amaya would love to play with you, don't you want to sweetie?"

"I don't know her name though?" Amaya spat and I could hear the sound of confidence breaking, looking at the small child she looked miserable

"It's okay sweetie, you can get to know her"

"M-M-my n-names T-Takara Amakiji. Come on lets play"

I watched my daughter slowly leave with her before standing and joining the father, the one and only Suneater.

"She means the world to me"

"Thats really sweet, hello I am (y/n) (l/n) known as (h/n) to the world. My daughter just started this school and has a hard time making friends" I spoke to him.

"Oh nice to meet you not on the streets (y/n). Please sit with me and have some cookies" he offered.

"Thank you Suneater"

"You can call me Tamaki"

"You can call me Tamaki, since you know we'll see each other a lot now"

"Of course Tamaki, so how old is Takara?"

"She's five, she's quite smart but extremely shy, much like myself"

"Oh is her mother in the picture? I don't mean to sound rude"

"Oh no it's fine, her mother was someone I was in love with and she was in love with me but once she had Takara something snapped and she left one day. What about you?"

"Oh Amaya, her father left once he found out I was pregnant, didn't want to get tied down"

My phone kept going on with messages after message.

"I can leave for a few minutes if it's important?"

"No it's okay, it's just threats from my former hero agency, I recently quit and I'll be looking for agencies in the morning"

"Why? I-if it's okay I ask?"

"They just kept dumping work on me, like I was some secretary. Everyone's careers grew before mine and I've been their the longest. So I finally had enough and left"

"Oh I'm sorry, I can put a good word in with Fatgum"

"Thank you but no thanks, I want to do this"

We chatted away for what seemed like hours until our daughters came to us. Amaya was wearing an elf costume that Nejire and Takara put her in. She looked happy and that's all I ever wanted.

"Look mommy! I'm an elf!" Amaya announced.

"Daddy! Can Amaya come to Eri's sleepover?!"

"You have yo ask her mother and it has to be okay with Amaya, we don't want people to be uncomfortable do we?"

"No daddy"

"Miss, Amaya's mom. Can she come to a sleepover with me?"

"I don't know sweetie, it's up to Amaya, she'll be the one to decide if that's what she wants"

All eyes went to Amaya, she looked a little nervous with the attention.

"If it's okay, Id like to go? For a few hours and you can pick me up?" She replied.

"Of course sweetheart. Now come on and eat some snacks and watch the movie"

[angelinacas]

So back in the beginning of December I was invited to go see a LIVE taping of The Voice. It was pretty exciting!! I have been to a live taping of a television show before. I have been on set of a movie before. But this was definitely a different experience, because it was the live taping of the performances. It was very different. So here goes…

  The email we received with the instructions said that we will NOT be allowed to bring in our cell phones. So we had to leave all of our phones in the car. So the only selfies we took that day were these ones in the car.

And then we took this one when we got to the parking structure.

The call time for check in was 330pm, but we had read online about other people’s experiences and they all said that it would be a good idea to get there around 130pm to start lining up.

We parked in the parking structure and followed the signs to The Voice line. Make sure you don’t pass the elevators otherwise you’ll wandering through CityWalk looking for more signs haha. So we go down the elevator and down into the lower level of the parking structure and get in line. There looked to be about maybe 50-60 people in line already. We thought we were going to be standing for hours and hours, but nope. We were in line for about 20 minutes. A guy came out and gave instructions that phones were not allowed in there so people had a few more minutes to take their phones back to their cars and come back in line. Surprised me how many people DID NOT read the rules on the tickets or in the email.

So a heads up, when you are printing your ticket and parking pass at home, make sure you print the 2 other pages as well and sign them. That way you wont be bombarded at the table with papers and pens and try to crawl over the crowd to get a form or a pen. Be prepared. We already had ours, so we bypassed the chaos bunch and went straight to the next line.

A security person then started down the line checking names, ID’s and taking signed forms. Once checked in they let walk to the metal detectors and a colored bracelet was put on you. We were given silver on this trip. (another trip given purple) They will tell you that the colors dont mean anything… they just mean you will be on a certain trolley. That is a lie. lol.. You will be placed in different groups for seating. The first time we had silver and we learned that was for the people in the pit. The purple wristbands on another trip were for the stadium seats behind the judges… so…

Anywho… we got wristbands and walked through a hallway and then came out to a patio area. There were chairs lined up under a canopy. There were also two food trucks there. You can buy food or something to drink. At the front of the chairs, there were water stations for free water. And on the other side of the chairs there were port-o-pottys. Fun.

I would suggest EAT BEFORE YOU GET THERE. And don’t drink too much if you have a light bladder. lol.

An usher sat us in the chairs… filling up the whole area. That took about an hour to get everyone checked in and sat down. We met and chatted with seat neighbors. The wait wasnt bad because we were sitting down. Which was nice considering we were going to be standing for the next 4 hours…IN HEELS!!

Here’s another tip: wear COMFORTABLE shoes!! It says in the ticket information to dress to impress. But it really DOES NOT matter. It’s so dark in there and the cameras will NOT see your shoes. So if you wanna dress fancy and hip, go for it. But i would totally wear some comfy vans or uggs. Something cushiony.

So… after about an hour, each wristband color was called and we got on the trolleys. we were taken on a trolley down to the studio. It was a fun ride. Then we got in line outside The Voice studio. The famous wall with the hand holding the microphone. We were there.

We waited more in a group than a line outside. Each color was placed in a little group there. We watched as the performers families arrived and got in line. We saw a couple celebrities arrive and even they stood in line. We waited maybe another 15-20 minutes as everyone was arriving. Families and celebrities were escorted in first. Then our silver bracelets were led in. We were the lucky ones to be put in “The Pit”. The Pit is the standing crowd you see on each side of the stage. If you want to be on camera, (its dark… but on camera) go further into the pit and along the stage. Near the speakers. You will be slightly on camera lol. It is really so dark in there when the cameras come on.

BUT… on one shot, my hand was on camera. YAY. hahaha right there, front and center. My hand is the one that looks like I’m touching this girl. lol.. That was pretty much the brightest it was in there. When the camera was at that angle.

We received A LOT of rules and direction from security and the crowd hype guy!! We can NOT boo under any circumstance. We don’t do the sway thing… eventhough, i think 2 songs they told us to sway lol.. We were told to clap and cheer and be loud and enthusiastic. The hype guy said “The crowd the week prior was real quiet and weak. So we need to be loud and energetic tonight.” But I quickly learned he says that every taping. haha

A couple of the security guys were kind rude. Not a smile or anything out of them. Seemed like they are just tired of their job so they could care less what job they are at. lol.. They’re just there. But there were a couple of guys who did actually smile and were personable. That was nice. Considering we were all just super excited to BE THERE. It was cool to feel welcomed by the few that made us feel it.

Carson wasn’t so talkative. He kind of just went in and out. Kelly definitely is EXACTLY as she is on camera. Very talkative and funny. Genuine. I absolutely love her!! Gwen seemed sweet. She said hi a couple times. John didn’t look away from his phone at all that night. But on another night he waved at us. And Blake was watching Monday Night football during one show and was joking and flirting with Gwen another night. Kinda funny.

The show was a live taping. The live semi-final performances. So we got to see all the performances of the last 8 finalists. Then we saw a secret performance that were being recorded for the finale! YES. You heard that right… recorded performances for the finale. Really cool that we were there for that!! We got to see Lady Antebellum perform live!! So awesome. They literally went on stage, Carson introduced them, they sang, we clapped, they were done and they walked off stage. And that was it. lol. That is pretty much how the entire show of performances went on throughout the night.

Introduction, sing, clap, walk off. lol. Nothing else in between. No time to talk to anyone. Just that. It was a rush because it was live. During each commercial break all the judges personal stylists, makeup artists, personal assistants and photographers came to judges chairs. Gwen took so many selfies. Total selfie queen. lol.

Overall, it was a fun day. The taping ended at about 7pm and we were on the freeway home by 730pm. It was an awesome experience. So much fun!!

To recap, my tips:

Eat before you get there.

Get there about 2 hours before call time to get in line.

Make sure you print and sign ALL the forms. (Tickets, parking pass, NDA and Photo Release)

Leave your phone in the car.

Wear COMFORTABLE shoes!!!!

Don’t be shy!!

Have fun!!

If you have any questions, leave them in the comments or email me. If you ever get a chance to go, share your story! I would love to hear your experience!

Blessings in 2020

    This is The Voice So back in the beginning of December I was invited to go see a LIVE taping of The Voice.

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Best. Job. Ever. 8/12

Summary: Reader gets a job on the set of Spider-Man: Far from Home for the 3 weeks they are shooting in New York City as what she thinks is a production assistant, but a twist of fate has her reassigned as Tom Holland’s personal assistant. As she & Tom grow close during filming, will their budding friendship turn to more or will they go their separate ways after filming concludes?

Warnings: Language, but that’s pretty much it? This is basically a PG-13 rom-com. (Legal) alcohol use as well but since it’s legal do I really need to tag it?

Word Count: 2114 for chapter 8.

Author’s Note: As this was written WAY before Spider-Man: Far from Home was released (actually before Avengers: Endgame was as well) I’ve kept plot details and which scene was being shot on what day extremely vague. Also, I’m American but tried to write Tom as British as possible, although I do think he’d try to stay(ish) in character and use as much American slang as he could while he’s still playing Peter.

Chapter-Specific Author’s Note: I hope this part was worth the wait... ;)

Requests are always open!

Cross-posted at AO3.

The next morning, Y/N woke up and checked her email.  Waiting in her inbox was Tom’s schedule for the final week of filming.

She pulled up Tom’s text thread. Got your schedule for next week. Ik you’re hanging out with Harrison today and we're going out tonight, so we can just go over it tomorrow or whatever.

Tom texted back almost immediately. Sounds great. Maybe we can do it tomorrow evening after Haz leaves? I was also thinking we could all have brunch in the morning so we can give him a proper send-off.

Ok, that’s fine, and brunch also sounds good. LMK the details tonight.

Y/N decided since she wasn’t meeting up with the guys until much later in the day and since she had been in NYC for almost 2 weeks and still hadn’t really gone sightseeing that she needed to get out and do something, so she took a shower and got dressed in some comfortable clothes she could go exploring in, grabbed her wallet, and headed downstairs.

She asked at the concierge desk for tour recommendations that she could do and wound up deciding to book a bus tour that passed by some shops she wanted to go to. She walked down to a little cafe’ for coffee then boarded her bus.

One of the stops was near the Strand Bookstore, so she decided to disembark there and check it out.

She took one step inside and froze. There were books everywhere she could see - books of every shape, size, and genre.  I’ve died and gone to heaven.

She spent most of the morning exploring the shop, finally choosing a few books to purchase before realizing how late it was and running back to the bus stop to continue her tour.

After eventually making a full loop around New York City, Y/N got off at the stop closest to the hotel and rushed back to shower and change for the evening.

She checked out her outfit in the full-length mirror in her hall. I guess this is it, she thought.

Laura had helped her pick out an outfit via Skype, delighted that Y/N had packed the pink satin camisole top she had bought Y/N for her birthday, and insisting that it was the perfect top to pair with black leggings and a pair of comfortable, low-heeled shoes that Y/N had bought earlier that day.  Y/N had gone with simple accessories, choosing a rose gold bracelet and teardrop necklace, and kept her makeup light lest she sweat it off under the club lights.

A knock came on the door.

She opened the door and Tom’s jaw dropped. “Y/N, you look absolutely stunning,” he breathed.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied shyly. “Ready to go? Where’s Harrison?”

“Oh, err, he said he'd meet us downstairs,” Tom replied.

“Oh, ok, that’s cool.”

Tom offered his arm. “Shall we?”

They exited the elevator in the lobby where Harrison was waiting. “Y/N, you look fabulous,” he said.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied.

“The Uber is a couple of blocks away so we should be getting outside.” Harrison pointed toward the doors. “You two ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m set. Tom?”

“Ready,” Tom replied.

They made their way outside where their Uber was just pulling up to the curb.

Tom got in first, holding out a hand to help Y/N climb in behind him. Harrison followed behind her.

They greeted their driver and chatted casually on the way to the restaurant.

After dinner, they walked down the street to the club.  Tom gave his name at the door and he, Y/N, and Harrison all showed their IDs to get their armbands for the bar, Y/N handing her belongings to Tom to keep in his pocket.  They walked in to the club full of glowing lights and thumping electronic music, peoples’ bodies swaying to the beat.

A waitress led them to their table above the dance floor and asked them if they wanted a drink.

“We should start with shots,” Harrison declared before ordering 2 tequila shots for each of them.

“Can I also get 2 shots of lime juice?” Y/N added. “I usually add a chaser at first if I'm doing tequila shots,” she explained at Tom and Harrison’s quizzical looks.

Once their drinks were delivered, Y/N picked hers up. “To good friends, good tequila, and good times,” she declared.

“Hear hear,” Tom and Harrison both agreed as they all clinked their glasses together.  Y/N drank her shot of tequila, the liquid burning her throat as it slid down. She immediately chased it with the lime juice, shuddering at the tang. “Ugh, much better mixed together in a margarita,” she joked.

They quickly followed with their second shot before Harrison decided that he was going to go check out the dance floor.  He shot Y/N and Tom a good-natured wink before he left.

Tom leaned in, the intoxicating combination of his cologne and the alcohol already starting to swirl in Y/N’s system making her feel fuzzy. “I’m going to go to the bar,” he said in her ear to be overheard over the music. “Want anything?”

“Sure.” Y/N told Tom which drink she wanted and he disappeared. She sat quietly for a few minutes before pulling out her phone and taking a selfie to send to Laura. Nightlife in NYC, she captioned it.

A couple of seconds later, a gorgeous blonde-haired guy bumped into her seat. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said apologetically.

“It’s fine,” Y/N said. “No harm done.” Y/N waited for the guy to keep walking, but he stopped right next to her.

“I’m Matt.”

“Y/N.”

Matt tilted his head to the side. “How about some company? A pretty lady like you must be lonely sitting there all by yourself.”

Y/N shook her head. “No thanks. I’m actually just waiting for someone.”

“Then do you wanna dance?”

“Um, no thanks.”

“How about a drink then?”

Y/N was starting to get uncomfortable. “Um, actually--”

“Here you are, love.”

Y/N looked up to see Tom carrying her drink as well as a beer for himself.

Y/N shot him a grateful look. “Thanks, babe.”

Tom sat next to her and gave her a lingering kiss on her cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. “So terribly sorry darling, hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” he said apologetically, putting an arm around her shoulder. He pretended to only just then notice Matt. “Oh, hello. Sorry, didn't see you standing there.”

Y/N tried to keep her chill. “No big deal, honey. I was just talking to Matt, here.”

“Umm, actually you know, I've got to get going,” Matt mumbled. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He rushed off.

“Bye, Matt!” Tom said cheerfully.

“Ugh, what an asshat,” Y/N said, taking a sip of her drink. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

Tom shrugged and took a swig of his beer, keeping his arm around Y/N. “You were obviously uncomfortable and that guy clearly wasn't getting the hint.”

They were finishing their drinks when Harrison came back. “Time for a break. I need another drink.” He pointed to Tom and Y/N. “It's your turn to get out there."

Tom offered Y/N his hand. “Dance with me?” he asked.

Y/N nodded and took his hand. “Show me what moves you've got, Holland,” she said with a wink.

“Order me another beer when our server comes back?” Tom asked Harrison.

“Sure thing, mate. Y/N?”

“Yeah, actually.” Y/N told Harrison what she wanted to drink as she and Tom stood.

Tom led her to the dance floor, where one song had just ended and another song had begun.

Y/N swayed her hips, letting the beat of the music and the warmth of the alcohol in her system relax her. Tom wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush to him.  Y/N hooked one arm around Tom’s neck, closing her eyes and matching Tom’s rhythm to where they were one seamless flow.

They danced for several songs until Tom’s hand slowly traveled up Y/N’s back until he reached the bare skin where her top was cut low. Y/N shivered as Tom slowly ran a finger up her back, opening her eyes and locking gazes with him.

Tom’s gaze held something… primal, something that both excited and terrified Y/N at the same time.  She subconsciously licked her lips, Tom’s gaze flickering down for just a second before raising back to her eyes.  His grip on her waist tightened. “Y/N…” he murmured.

“Yes?” Y/N replied breathlessly. The way Tom said her name in that accent of his made her briefly wonder how many other different ways she could get him to say it and in what other situations. She blushed at the thought.

Tom tilted his head, leaning in slightly, while Y/N followed suit until...

...Someone knocked into them, shattering the moment and breaking the spell.

“You know what?” Y/N said nervously, looking everywhere but at Tom. “I need to hit the ladies’ room, I’ll umm… I’ll be back in a bit.”

Tom nodded. “Okay, I’m going to go back to the table then.”

Y/N nodded as well.  She went to the ladies’ room and splashed some cool water on her face. Get a grip, Y/N. You’ve both been drinking, and with the lights and the music… Just keep it together.

She walked back to the table, where the guys were each drinking a beer, Y/N’s drink on the table between them.  

Y/N sat down and took a long swig of her drink. “Bit warm in here, isn’t it?” she said. “Luckily we seem to be right under the AC.”

After a while and another drink, Y/N had calmed down enough and was ready to get back out on the dance floor.

She took turns dancing with both Harrison and Tom, but this time she was sure to keep a respectable distance, also switching to water for the rest of the evening lest she get tipsy again and lose her inhibitions.

They called an Uber back to the hotel, where Y/N and Tom dropped Harrison off at his floor, wishing him goodnight.

When Y/N and Tom arrived on their floor, Tom asked, “Would you like me to walk you to your door?”  

Y/N giggled. “That’s so gentlemanly of you, but it’s literally down the hall. I think I can make it.”

“Ok, good night then.”

“Good night.”  Y/N turned and walked towards her room.  She was almost to her door when Tom called out her name. “Y/N!”

She turned to see Tom jogging towards her, holding her belongings that he had been keeping in his pocket.  “You might need these.”

Y/N blushed as Tom joined her in front of her door. “Haha oops, yeah, those might be important.” She bit her lip nervously. “Thanks for inviting me. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me too,” Tom replied with a soft smile.

Y/N's fingers brushed Tom's as she reached for her belongings, setting off that same spark that she had felt earlier that evening. She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Tom's cheek before turning towards her door.

Suddenly Tom grabbed her hand. “Y/N, wait.”

Y/N glanced back at him in surprise.

Tom dropped Y/N's hand as his eyes searched hers. What he was looking for, Y/N wasn't sure. Tom reached up and tucked some loose hair behind Y/N's ear, his fingers lingering on her face in a gentle caress.

Y/N subconsciously leaned into Tom's touch, her eyes fluttering closed as warm lips tentatively pressed against her own.

She reached up with her free hand, trailing her fingers up Tom’s arm before wrapping her hand around his bicep and pulling him closer, Tom wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush to him as he continued to kiss her breathless.

The sound of a door closing down the hall brought them back to Earth, Tom giving Y/N one more chaste kiss before separating.

He grinned. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled shyly. “Night, Tom.” She swiped her keycard on her door before entering her room, not noticing that Tom hadn’t moved or taken his eyes off of her for a second until she was inside.

She flopped down on her bed and touched her lips with her fingertips, the feel of Tom's lips still on hers.

What a night.

Taglist: @laureharrier @thoughstofaredhead & @greenarrowhead

[stayextrafrosty]

Starting Now

Request: (So this was like three asks long so this is a summary) Reader is new to the Fall Out Boy stage crew and travels with them. They stop near her hometown for a concert and her parents want to come see her. She doesn’t say much about it and leaves Patrick, who she’s gotten close to, confused about why she didn’t invite him when they go to dinner. Misunderstandings and fluff.

Warnings: none

Words: 4559

Masterlist

-

“Alright people let’s go! We don’t have time for chit chatting. This stuff was supposed to be packed before they went on.” Our manager barked orders at everyone he walked past. I suppose I understood but maybe we’d work better without the yelling.

I kept my head down as I passed him, pushing a cart with some of the speakers from the set. Please don’t say anything. Please don’t say anything. Please don’t—

“The new girl is the only one working. Maybe I should give her your jobs instead.” I hurried as much as I could with a couple hundred pounds of equipment. Him saying that was just as bad as being scolded. Most of the other stage crew didn’t like me. Probably because I was able to get in good with the artists themselves. Fall Out Boy.

I helped load the speakers into the bus. I began to jog back inside to help with more stuff, but I was yanked another direction. I opened my mouth to scream but I met a pair of brown eyes and a mischievous grin. Pete. He held a finger to his lips and pulled me to his nearby bus. I rolled my eyes but didn’t fight much.

“Pete, I can’t keep disappearing. This is my job you know, I can be fired.” Pete just shrugged as he stepped onto the bus.

“It wasn’t my idea this time.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Pete.” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes from me.

“Hey, I never specified who it was,” Pete said. He blushed but smiled at me none the less. I chuckled at their banter.

“It’s ok, Patrick. I like you too.” I plopped myself down into the seat across from him.

It was half a joke. I really did like him. I’m pretty sure that he flirts with me, but I can never be sure. Or rather, Pete flirts for him. Patrick gets embarrassed and then scolds Pete. I laugh and reassure Patrick that I like him. But nothing really comes of it.

“Alright, I’m gunna go hang with Joe and Andy. Don’t have too much fun kids.” Pete’s laughter followed him back out the door.

“Sorry about that. He’s a bit—” I rolled my eyes at Patrick and held up my hand.

“You don’t need to apologize every time Pete drags me back here. Believe it or not, I like hanging out with you guys. Even though I’m amazed I haven’t been fired yet.” He laughed awkwardly. I’ve been trying to break him of the constantly apologizing habit.

“So, what’s up, Trick? Did you need to talk to me,” I asked, resting my head in my hand.

“Oh, nothing really. Just wanted to talk I guess. I know we’re coming up to a show close to where you grew up. I just wanted to ask if you—” His rambling got cut off by my phone ringtone. I pulled it out of my pocket. I froze at the caller id.

Devil Boss

This was the first time he called me. I let it ring twice more before realizing I needed to pick it up. I jumped up from the seat and pressed the green button. I braced myself as I placed the phone next to my ear.

“hell—”

“Where the fuck are you? I’ve been looking the other direction for weeks now, but this is it! If you keep skipping out on your job, I will fire you.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”

“I should just get rid of you now. Why am I even bothering with a final warning? Just because you’re all buddy buddy with the band doesn’t mean I can’t have you kicked out.”

“I understand, sir.” The line went dead. I ran a hand through my hair. Patrick raised an eyebrow at me.

“I gotta go. I’ve skipped out on my actual job too much. If I do this again, I’ll be fired. I’ll see you later, Trick.” I gave him a small wave before turning away.

“You could just quit.” I stopped at the door. “You don’t have to work. Just travel with us.”

I faced him again. A light blush dusted his cheeks, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Patrick met my eyes for a moment. As much as I wish I could, I needed the money. It was just a bonus that I got to travel around with a world-famous band.

“I appreciate the thought. But I can’t afford to just travel around with you guys.” I smiled sadly at him. He stepped toward me.

“Money wouldn’t be an issue. We would let you have the extra bed on the bus.” I chuckled.

“You guys would get sick of me.”

“I could never get sick of you, (Y/N).” Patrick stood directly in front of me now. Heat rose to my cheeks. I couldn’t hold his gaze and looked toward the door.

“I have to go. I don’t wanna get fired,” I mumbled. I couldn’t seem to make my feet move away from him. His face moved close to mine. We were about the same height, but I felt so small next to him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want this. I just never thought he would be the one to make the first move. It was intimidating.

My eyes closed but the kiss never came. At least not where I was expecting. His lips pressed against my head. Somehow that meant more than anything else he could have done.

“Just think about it.” I could only nod in response. He cleared his throat. “You should get going. I know how the stage manager can get.”

“Uh, yea.” I hurried out of the bus. It probably seemed like I was running away from him. I’ll have to talk to him later.

-

That’s what I thought. But it turns out my devil of a manager really had it out for me now. I understood. I shouldn’t have let Pete pull me away all those times. I knew that, but I let him do it anyway.

I’ve had hardly any time to interact with the guys the last few shows. Especially not enough time to have any sort of serious conversation about feelings and couple status. I’d been running around constantly. I was more like the stage manager’s assistant. He had me getting coffee and organizing the set.

I suppose I was doing more than I had been expected to originally. The other workers still seemed to hate me. I think I heard one of them saying how I was doing exactly what they needed for their class experience. Trust me, I’d let them have it if I could.

Of course, I had considered Patrick’s offer but me getting to travel with them for free didn’t change the fact that I needed money for my own classes. I crashed on one of the sofas in the backstage area. The rest of the crew went to get ice cream or coffee or something. But with tomorrow being close to the place I grew up, I needed to call my parents. It’s been a month since I’ve been home, and it would be another before I came back.

The phone rang a few times before my mother’s excited voice filtered through the speaker. I loved her but sometimes she was a bit much.

“Hey there, baby! Tell me, how’s the job? Are they working you to the bone? Who’s the band you’re setting up for? Meet anyone famous?” I chuckled.

“Chill, Mom. I can answer all that stuff at dinner if you’d like.”

“That would be amazing sweetie! And it’s on us so don’t worry about anything.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ok. Where did you want to go?” I heard the door click open behind me. Were the other crew back already?

“Oh, how about that nice Cajun place you like so much?”

“Mom you don’t need to go that far. I’d be fine with pizza.”

“Nonsense, (Y/N). See you tomorrow at 1.”

“Wait, Mom—” The line went dead. I sighed and pulled myself up from the couch. She had a one-track mind sometimes.

“Where are you running off to?” I jumped at Patrick’s voice.

“Christ, Trick! You scared me! I thought you were just part of the crew or something.” I ran a hand over my face. My heart pounded from the surprise, but it wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. He chuckled slightly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” My phone buzzed with a text from the manager. I sighed. Break over I guess.

“Sorry, gotta run. I’m just going to see my parents since I’m passing through town.” I pushed past him, but he grabbed my arm.

“Have you given any thought to my offer?” I turned to face him.

“I have. But it goes a lot farther than just the summer. I need the money for school.” He nodded in understanding. I went to pull my arm away, but he held on.

“Let me take you out sometime. On a date.” A blush covered his cheeks. I smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“I’d like that a lot.” My phone buzzed again. “Ok, well I have to go. See you later, Patrick.” He smiled and released me, shoving his hands in his pockets. I hurried out of the room to meet with the manager.

“I texted you like ten minutes ago. Watch yourself,” he scolded me as I jogged up.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I started moving the stereo systems to the stage for the show. It was boring and difficult work, but my mind always drifted to Patrick. Then I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

-

The manager was not happy when I reminded him that I requested this day off. But he approved it before we left so there was nothing he could do. I pulled on my favorite dress. Normally, I didn’t care for dresses that much, but this was comfortable and was long enough that I didn’t have to worry much about bending over.

My mother texted me at least seven times already today just saying how excited she was. At one point she made a joke about bringing the artist I was working with. I thought about it for a moment. What it would be like to bring Patrick with me? I laughed. My mom would probably pass out.

I wouldn’t make Patrick do something like that. Not yet at least. I’ll wait to see if this goes anywhere past the first date. I hurried out the door and almost ran smack into Patrick.

“Woah. Slow down there.” He grabbed my arms to steady me and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, sorry. I gotta go. I’ll see you later, alright?” Not that I was running late or anything, but my mother tended to be places super early. He let me go and I rushed off again.

-

Patrick POV

What just happened? I came to see where she wanted me to take her for dinner but it’s like I didn’t even exist. I watched her rush off toward the elevator. She looked stunning in the dress. But then again, she looked good in everything.

I began the slow walk back to the bus. Maybe I was overthinking the whole thing. What if she just said yes to a date to be nice? It wouldn’t be the first time girls had done that to me. But why was she all dressed up in the first place?

“Come on, Patrick. You’re acting like an overprotective weirdo,” I mumbled to myself. Yet here I was, still racking my brain trying to figure out where she could have gone.

By the time I made it back to the bus, I still had no idea. My face must have shown confusion for Pete to start making fun of me.

“Hey, dude. Why so upset? Didn’t you see how good your girl looked?” I shoved him as I walked past.

“She’s not my girl. And how would you know what she looked like? Did she come over here?” Pete chuckled.

“Sounding a bit like a defensive boyfriend there, Trick. And no. She didn’t. I just saw her heading toward the parking lot.” I felt my brow furrow. “Aren’t we near her hometown this show or something?”

I smacked my forehead. Not hard but maybe I should have. I can’t believe I forgot. She mentioned it briefly yesterday. She’s going to see her parents. I assume she’ll be back before the show. I wonder why she didn’t invite me?

No, she was just being respectful of me needing to be here for the show. She would have if she could have. Or maybe she’s just embarrassed. I don’t know how her parents are around guys. I mean, I know I’m not good enough for her but I’ve gotta try.

“Dude chill. I’m sure she won’t fault you for forgetting,” Pete said.

“Yea…”

-

Your POV

I had never been here for lunch before. I’m sure it was just as good as dinner, but I usually try to figure out what I want ahead of time. It cuts down on the anxiety. They didn’t seem to put their menu online anymore.

The cab dropped me off in front of the door. I didn’t see my parent’s car as we drove up so maybe I had beat them for once. I pushed the door open and looked around for the host. I caught sight of the deep auburn that was my mother’s hair. I should have known better.

“Hey there,” I said as I walked up to their table. My mother’s face lit up as she bounced from her seat.

“(Y/N)! Sweetie, it’s been so long,” she squealed. I laughed as she pulled me into a hug. Sometimes I wonder if she ever got out of that middle school “freak out” mindset.

“It’s only been a month, mom,” I said, hugging her back. She was so much shorter than me I’m sure people confused her for my younger sister. She was beyond beautiful and sometimes I wondered why I didn’t take after her more.

“She knows that. She’s just going through the ‘empty nest’ thing again.” My father pats my mother on the back, making her let go. We all sat down and put in our drink orders.

“I didn’t see your car when I pulled up. How’d you get here,” I asked?

“Oh, we decided to get a new car! Your father got a nice bonus and we just decided it was time. That old minivan wasn’t safe anymore.” I chuckled.

“It wasn’t safe four years ago.” My parents rolled their eyes at me.

“Your mother tells me that you’re close to the band you work for?” I raised an eyebrow at my mother. She sipped her margarita innocently. Where did she get this stuff?

“I never told her that.”

“But you don’t deny it. Why didn’t you bring one of them along? We’d love to meet them.” I ran a hand through my hair and sighed.

“We haven’t even been on a date! I wasn’t going to bring him along. Besides, he has a show tonight.”

“But there is a guy then,” my father inquired? Fuck. I didn’t mean to let that slip.

“Not fair. You teamed up on me!” The both waited expectantly.

“Wait, tonight? The only show going on near here tonight is that big band! What were they called, the boys that fall? Or something. They said it on the radio this morning.” I burst out laughing at my mothers’ butchering of the name.

“Yes, mom. It’s Fall Out Boy.” She clapped her hands together like a child.

“So, which one is it that has you smitten?” Sometimes I wished we could talk about something other than my love life, but I understood. They were good parents. Supported me in everything, even when I told them I had a crush on a girl.

“Lay off the poor girl. She doesn’t need you grilling her about her personal life. Just make sure he treats you right, ok?” I smiled at my father, thankful.

We put in our food orders and my father tried to keep my mother in line. And away from the topic of Patrick. My mother was playing around on her phone and I’m sure she was looking up pictures. I had let his name slip in hopes she would drop the subject.

“Oh, darling he’s so cute!” I groaned. I’m so happy I didn’t bring him along.

“Mom. Chill. Come to the show tonight or something. I could probably get you backstage to meet them.” I have no idea if I actually can but maybe it would be just enough to stop the line of questions.

“Oh, that’d be lovely sweetie! We’ll buy some tickets right after we finish here.” Thankfully, that put an end to the discussion for the most part. I was able to grill them about their jobs and what not. The hard part would be getting them backstage. I don’t think I have jurisdiction over that.

-

I wandered back to the busses. I tried to keep my head down and away from fans who were scouting the area. The rest of the crew was presumably, already inside. I heard the door to the bus open. Thankfully, the guys and girls had different busses. I pulled my zipper partially down my back before I heard a throat clearing. I spun to face the clearly male sounding voice.

Patrick was turned away from me, a deep blush covering his cheeks. I stuttered and scrambled to pull my zipper back up, but I couldn’t reach it.

“Seriously,” I muttered to myself. He didn’t walk in on me half naked or anything. Everything was covered but I was still embarrassed. This is what I get for feeling too comfortable in this bus. “Can you, uh, zip me back up?” His eyes darted back to me. I could only hold his gaze for a moment. “I can’t reach it,” I explained. Patrick nodded awkwardly.

“Uh, yea. Turn around.” I did and a moment later his fingers brush my back as he pulled up the zipper. God, this was a mess. I turned and smiled at him, trying to act like that wasn’t the most awkward moment ever.

“So, what did you need?” He shrugs a bit.

“I guess just wondering why you didn’t want me to meet your parents?” I chuckled. Oh, so that was it? He was sweet.

“Well it would’ve been pretty embarrassing.” His face dropped but quickly turned blank.

“So, you were running from me earlier? You know, you don’t have to pity me. A simple ‘no, thanks’ would have worked earlier.” I raised an eyebrow. What on earth was he talking about? I opened my mouth to question but he was already turning around. “I’ll see you later, (Y/N).”

I stood frozen as he stepped off the bus. Now hold the fuck up. I darted after him. No way in hell was I letting this misunderstanding fester. I called after him, but I couldn’t be too loud because of nearby fans.

“Trick!” I looked around and I didn’t seem to attract any attention. He slowed his walking pace and allowed me to catch up to him. He refused to look me in the eye. “Want to explain to me why you think I don’t like you?”

“Well apparently I’m embarrassing.” I rolled my eyes and ran a hand down my face.

“First of all,” I started. “I meant my parents were embarrassing. Second, I was running late for lunch earlier. Third, I actually really like you.” I crossed my arms. He was actually dumb sometimes. Maybe dense is the more accurate word. Pink dusted his cheeks and he scratched the back of his head.

“Um, I’m sorry.” I rolled my eyes and stepped toward him.

“Let’s try not to jump to conclusions from now on.” He nodded in understanding. I hugged him in reassurance. His kissed the top of my head. I wonder if he’ll actually kiss me at any point. An idea crossed my mind and I knew exactly how to make this up to him.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” He tilted his head in curiosity.

“Sure. Anything for you.”

“I invited my parents to the show tonight. Would there be any way to get them back stage to meet you guys?” His eyes sparkled.

“Of course. Just leave it to me. Bring them to the back entrance before the show. I’ll meet you there,” he said, trying to contain the excitement. I giggled. He was so cheesy and the cutest person ever.

“You’re the best. Thank you. Fair warning, my parents are embarrassing. Mostly my mother.” He grinned.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” he said.

“Oh, it could be very bad. I promise,” I half joked.

-

I hadn’t been nervous for a concert for a while. But I was today, and it wasn’t even because of the concert. I was waiting outside the venue in my black jeans and t-shirt. Usual work clothes even though I wouldn’t be working.

I stood by a statue of some sports player near the entrance gate. Fans milled about happily. I checked my watch. My mom should be bouncing up to me any second with my father in tow. She said something about being able to dress the part, but I wasn’t quite sure what she meant.

I was scrolling through my phone when someone tapped my shoulder. I glanced up the person wearing black converse, black skinny jeans and a red t-shirt. She wore thick eyeliner, but it looked really good. I froze for a moment. My father stood behind my mother looking very much like a guy dragged by his kid or in this case, and over enthusiastic wife.

“Mom. What in the world?” I laughed but not because she looked bad. She was stunning as usual, but this was not a look I was used to.

“I told you I would look the part!” She smiled and hugged me. I laughed as I wrapped my arms around her.

“You’re crazy.” I brought them around to where the busses were. There were some fans back here, but I know the guys went into the venue at least an hour ago. I knocked on the back door. Waited. Knocked again. Usually they had someone standing at the door. I checked my phone and texted Patrick that I was waiting. A couple minutes passed before my phone buzzed.

Sorry! Three minutes! I’m coming!

I rolled my eyes. He was always late. I suppose he could have been coming back from sound check.

“What are we waiting for again,” my father asked? It was sort of sarcastic but also not.

“We are waiting for Patrick to come open the door because apparently the guard that’s supposed to be here is taking a bathroom break or something.” Theoretically I could have gotten in through the stage crew entrance but no one except the stage crew was allowed back there.

I heard the handle of the door jiggle from the other side. I stepped back so I wouldn’t get hit once Patrick pushed the door open. He smiled brightly at us as he held it.

“Sorry about that. Had to get away from our manager. He’s not exactly in favor of us just wandering off.” I chuckled and invited my parents in. The door closed loudly behind them. “Follow me.” My mom came up to my side.

“He’s even cuter in person,” she whispered in my ear. I blushed because I knew how well sound traveled in these places. Patrick didn’t seem to react, but I thought I saw him smile briefly. The walk to the back room was short. Pete sat on the couch playing some game while Joe and Andy tried to mess him up.

“Hey guys, visitors,” Patrick called loudly. I snickered at the weirdness of it. Joe made loud sound of confusion that resembled a ‘huh?’

“Just me guys. And I brought my parents along. Sorry for short notice.” The other three guys all turned at the same time. Surprise covered their faces. Patrick laced his fingers through mine and squeezed. Pete of course was the first to notice.

“Oh, so you finally asked her out? Took ya long enough!” My felt my face heat up.

“Seriously? You had to do that right now,” Patrick mumbled. I heard my mother giggle from behind us.

“So, there was a mutual longing? How cute,” she gushed.

“Mom,” I warned. I tossed an evil glance in her direction, but she just grinned at me. Honestly, how old was she?

“Anyway,” I started. “This is Pete, Joe, and Andy.” I gestured to each of them as their names came up. They exchanged pleasantries. Surprisingly, all three of them stood to shake my father’s hand. He seemed taken aback by their forwardness. I chuckled at him as he shook hands awkwardly.

Patrick followed after the other guys. He seemed nervous. My dad was a rather large man, but he was an even bigger softie. He was never mean to anyone that I brought home or said I was going out with.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” My father glared at Patrick, but I could see the small grin on his face. Just because he was never mean, doesn’t mean he didn’t like to freak them out. Especially the guys.

“You just be good to her. Got it?” Patrick cleared his throat and nodded quickly.

“Yes, sir. I promise.” A full smile broke out on my father’s face as he slapped Patrick on the back. I giggled at his confusion.

“Awesome. Have a great show tonight guys! Let’s go find our seats, dear.” The confusion spread to her face as he began to drag her along. I checked my watch. They were letting people in now, but the show didn’t start for another hour or so.

“Wait, I have questions! Why do you always ruin my fun?”

“Because even though our daughter knows you love her, let’s not embarrass her on the first day of the relationship.” She rolled her eyes but let him pull her along. I hoped to have a love like theirs one day.

“Wait for me! I’ll walk you out,” I called as the door clicked shut behind them.

“Right. Well we’re going to go back to playing games while you guys talk about that awkward experience. We totally won’t be eavesdropping,” Pete said. He plopped himself back in front of the screen. I watched Andy roll his eyes and Joe stuck some headphones in. Clearly Pete was the only one eavesdropping.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry again for earlier. But hey. According to you that could have gone worse. I’m only a little scared or your dad.” I laughed and took his hand.

“Well he likes you. So, don’t worry about it. Besides, they have plenty of time to be embarrassing.” He smiled at me. I leaned into him and pecked his lips. Pink dusted his cheeks, but he still smiled.

“Awww,” I heard Pete fake swoon. Patrick and I rolled our eyes.

[lirlovesfic]

The Choice

A Doctor Who fanfic

Summary: After GitF, the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey back to the estate to solve a problem involving the TARDIS herself. But when they see a familiar face, the face of someone who should not exist, they realize the problem is deeper than they thought and could endanger the Doctor’s very existence. Primary characters: Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler. Genres: Romance, mystery, adventure, drama, character study, HN AU, fobbed!Nine, sick TARDIS. Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose Rating: Adult

Warning: none for this chaper

a/n: I am currently working on editing this chapter-by-chapter, with the hopes of completing a chapter a day until I catch up with myself. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m doing it to try to get back into the swing of writing and to build some momentum in order to finish this. Also, there have been some tiny things nagging at me for a while (grammar, punctuation, etc.) so I’ll be correcting as many of them as I can find as I go. The story will not change. In fact, most of the changes are going to be so minor that I doubt anyone (besides myself) will notice. But to keep myself on target, I’ll be posting it all here as I go, with links to the other websites it’s on. I hope you enjoy it.

Catch up: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

This chapter: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

Chapter Fifteen—London, 15 July 2007

John absently let the cat out as he frowned at the sheet of paper in his hand. The likeliest writers of the crude note were of course Chuck and Jimmy, both of whom he'd had run-ins with the previous day.

On the other hand, there were at least half a dozen others on the Estate who hated him enough to write the note, and that didn't include a few of his former customers and possibly half his coworkers at the garage who didn't like him either. Well, it wasn't his job to be liked, and for the most part he didn't care one way or the other how they felt about him. Truth be told, he didn't like them either.

At the sound of Rose coming out of the kitchen, he hurriedly shoved the note in his pocket. She met him by the door.

"I gotta get going." She glanced down at herself. "I really need to change. Bananas in nightcaps is a bit much even for the Estate."

"Dunno," he said, trying to keep a straight face. He knew he wasn't doing a particularly good job of it. "I think it suits you, and I've seen people wear things around here that makes that look like formal evening wear."

She chuckled. "Still, gotta get home before my mum does. Don't ask."

He grinned. "I won't."

She reached for the door handle, and he stopped her.

"Rose, I've got a couple of things to do this afternoon, but… d'you wanna to do something later? We could go out, or maybe get takeaway and watch a movie?"

Her face lit up. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

"I'll pick you up. Which flat's yours again?"

She hesitated for a second, just long enough for John to wonder if she didn't want to tell him.

"Number 48," she said. Then she added quickly, "Where's your phone?" After searching the flat for a bit and finding it next to his computer, he handed it to her. She rapidly typed her phone number into his contacts list. "Just call me when you're done."

He nodded.

When she didn't immediately move to open the door, an awkward pause descended. She seemed reluctant to leave, or at least seemed to be waiting for him to do something, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. She'd just spent the better part of the night with him, albeit platonically, sort of, and then had made him breakfast. What was an appropriate way to say goodbye? Did he shake her hand? Kiss her on her forehead? His impulse was to snog her for all she was worth, but he immediately rejected that as an option.

Before he could decide what to do, she opened the door. Impulsively he stopped her again.

"Rose."

Her hand still on the doorknob, she looked up at him. With a small smile he cupped her cheek, lowered his head to hers and gently, gently kissed her. When he pulled away, her eyes were huge. "See you later," he told her.

She nodded dumbly and slipped out the door.

After the door had closed behind her and he knew for certain she was gone, he pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She hadn't kissed him back. She'd even looked a bit shocked.

Maybe he'd made a mistake, he thought, read her signals wrong. After all, he was old enough to be her father. Perhaps the age gap between them was just too much for her to handle. Maybe, despite the flirting, she just wanted to be friends with him.

But he'd been so sure…

But she did say she wanted to go out with him that night, so maybe he hadn't misread her, or at least not entirely. Was he moving too quickly?

Not quickly enough?

No, that didn't make any sense, not based on her reaction to his kiss.

He snorted and shook his head, amused at his train of thought. According to his ID he was forty, but around her he felt like a teenager, all pounding hearts and sweating palms. What was it about Rose Tyler that made him so nervous and unsure of himself? He didn't feel like that around anyone else on the planet.

When she had fallen asleep on him, it had briefly crossed his mind he should wake her, but he hadn't had the heart to do so. He had also considered laying her down on the sofa and allowing her to sleep while he returned to his own room. But it had felt so good having her in his arms. It had been literally the first time in his admittedly short memory that he had held someone like that. Moreover, it had been Rose, the person he had grown to care about far more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. Before he had realized he had done it, he had pulled the blanket to cover them both and had lain back on the armrest, pulling her tightly against his chest. He had been rewarded with a soft sigh from Rose.

He had fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

But then he had woken up and she hadn't been there. For a moment he had been scared she had left, had been uncomfortable at how the evening had ended and had snuck out without saying goodbye. He had immediately worried that he had read her signals wrong, had taken things too far by holding her in his arms as she slept.

And then he had heard her rustling in the kitchen. And realized she had stayed. The tension he hadn't even realized he'd been holding inside released in a rush, to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of relief.

What was it about Rose Tyler?

He sighed heavily, wondering how one young woman could turn his life upside down in the span of one week, and how already he couldn't imagine his life without her in it.

~oOo~

Rose crossed the courtyard and made her way up the stairwell to her mother's flat, barely noticing her surroundings, still in a daze over what had happened.

He had kissed her.

John had kissed her.

She had been surprised, thrilled even, to wake up in his arms, but as amazing as that had been, that was nothing compared to what had just happened.

He had kissed her.

He had actually kissed her.

And not with the almost parental kiss on the forehead her first Doctor had occasionally given her, and not in exuberance as her second Doctor had done once. True, it wasn't the snog Cassandra had given him while in control of her body, but it was a real kiss. On the lips.

And deliberate. Intentional.

She traced her fingertips over her still tingling lips.

Memories, forgotten, dreamlike memories of her time as Bad Wolf fought to rise to the surface. She barely remembered what had happened in the time between her looking into the Heart of the TARDIS and waking up to the Doctor regenerating, but one image had stayed with her. A vision of the Doctor, this Doctor, kissing her. It was a memory she had always discounted as false. A fantasy. No more than wishful thinking.

But this hadn't been a fantasy. No matter how brief, this had been an actual kiss.

With a smile spreading across her face, she ran up the rest of the stairs thinking about how she couldn't wait to see him later.

~oOo~

Jackie tiptoed down the hall, in part not to wake Rose, but mostly because any type of noise, including the sound of her own footfalls on the carpet, caused her head to pound. Once in the kitchen, she looked again at the scrap of paper in her hand. It wasn't the first time she had received a foul note like this one. Truth be told, she'd periodically received them for more than a decade, ever since she'd truly begun to date again after Pete's death. They tended to be from ex-boyfriends after bad breakups, or from the ex-girlfriends of whoever was her current boyfriend. Less often, they'd be from someone whom she'd turned down at the local. Occasionally, like this time, she wouldn't know who it was from. But in all the years she'd received them, she'd always hid them from Rose.

No reason to worry her. They always came to nothing.

She crumpled up the paper and shoved it deep into the bin, underneath old magazines and kitchen scraps before starting her morning tea.

She filled the electric kettle and turned it on. Normally she made a pot of tea the old-fashioned way, loose leaves in a pre-warmed pot. She prided herself that she was known on the Estate for her tea—she ignored the fact that she was known for other things as well. This morning however she didn't feel up to the trouble. She could do that later.

No, for this first cuppa, she was going to have to settle for a teabag. She retrieved a mug and the box of teabags from the cupboard and winced again as the cupboard door closed. She put the heels of her hands to her head and rubbed her temples.

Yes, she definitely needed the tea. And a couple of paracetamol.

As she opened a different cupboard in search of the jar of painkillers, Jackie heard the door to the flat quietly open and close. Puzzled, and wondering if her hangover extended into hearing things that weren't there, she stuck her head out of the kitchen and cautiously looked down the hall. Her eyebrows shot up. Rose was sneaking in. That wasn't unusual in itself, but her attire was. Usually when she snuck into the flat she wasn't wearing a nightgown.

And she had a big smile on her face.

"And where have you been?" Jackie demanded. She winced at the loudness of her own voice, ignoring the fact that she'd only gotten home minutes earlier, and wearing what she had worn the night before to boot. "You've been wi' him, haven't you?"

Rose's smile disappeared. "It's not what you think," she protested.

"And coming home in your nighty?" Jackie said in disbelief and then winced again. "Honestly, Rose, could you be more obvious?"

Rose sighed loudly. "It's not what it looks like."

Jackie crossed her arms in front of her in her scolding mother stance. "'We're not like that, Mum.' 'We're just friends, Mum.' I'll tell you, I've never come home in my nighty after a night with Bev. And not with a cat who ate the canary grin like you had when you came in." She pursed her lips. "Well, at least his nibs is human now. If you get up the duff, at least my grandchild won't have tentacles."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Don't use all the hot water!" Jackie called after her.

~oOo~

Once she had escaped to the relative refuge of the bathroom and away from her mother's nagging, Rose's grin returned. She pulled off her nightclothes, including the bananas in nightcaps nightshirt that had ironically been given to her by a later version of the same Doctor she had just left, and got into the shower. As the hot water washed over her, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be carried away by the memory of the kiss. It had been more than just a brush of the lips. It had been soft, slow, and absolutely lovely. And over far too soon. She would have loved it to have been longer, but she had been so surprised by it that it had been over before she could respond.

And she was kicking herself over that because she was sure that had she reacted more quickly, or at all actually, it would have turned into a proper snog.

But it was fantastic just the same.

After her shower, wearing a large, pink bath towel with another, smaller towel tightly wrapped around her hair, she went to her room to get dressed, still thinking about the extraordinary kiss.

Only the sight of her room brought her back to reality. The clothes she had worn the day before were lumped in a pile next to the bed, while other of her belongings from the TARDIS were scattered here and there around the room. More of her things erupted from her rucksack that she had dropped in the corner of her room a week earlier.

Part of the mess was simply a function of her personality and the way she had been brought up. Her mother had never been particularly concerned about neatness. Oh, the dishes were always washed, the laundry was always done, and the carpet was hoovered regularly. But the clean dishes sat next to the sink in the kitchen, never seeming to make their way back into the cupboards. Fashion magazines and romance novels competed for space with the post on the tables and chairs in the lounge while folded laundry was stacked haphazardly on any available surface in the flat.

Jackie's lackadaisical attitude towards order had been passed on to her daughter. Rose had always felt she had better things to do than tidy up her room. She wasn't bothered by it, telling herself that compared to her mother and Mickey, she was the very definition of organization.

The only time she even made an effort to be tidy was on the TARDIS, and that was more because she knew that the Doctor liked things in order and she didn't want him to think less of her, not out of any inner sense of neatness.

Rose sighed. This morning her room was even more of a disaster than usual, and that was saying something. To be fair, she told herself, the condition of the room was in part due to leaving the flat in a hurry in the middle of the night.

She rummaged through her clothes, looking for something to wear and wondering if she could get her mother to wash some of her laundry for her. After a bit of a search, she found a clean pair of jeans and a bright pink top. She pulled them on, shoved her mobile in her pocket, and then made a halfhearted effort to tidy her room, looking for dirty clothes to put in the wash.

She straightened her duvet and began to replace her pillows at the head of her bed. As she picked up a stray pillow that had somehow landed on the floor, she spotted the cube that held the Doctor's holographic message to her sitting on the bedside table.

With a rush Rose remembered the reason she was here in the first place. She felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn't been left on the Estate to flirt with John, and she certainly hadn't been left here to snog him. She'd been left here to make sure her first Doctor didn't get into trouble as a human.

Unconsciously she reached up and touched the key to the TARDIS that she always wore on a chain around her neck. She had more than a sneaking suspicion that to the Doctor, a cuddle and a kiss would fall under the classification of trouble.

The twinge of guilt grew, and she shoved the feeling aside. What was done was done, she told herself. If the Doctor ever remembered this, she'd just have to deal with the consequences, whatever they were. And from now on she'd just have to cool things down between them a bit, make sure nothing happened between them that the Doctor'd regret later.

But in the meantime, she had a job to do. After the difficulty she'd had trying to reach the Doctor on her mobile, it was obvious that the problems with the TARDIS were far worse than she had realized, far worse than just him not being able to return in ten seconds. Although the Doctor had told both her and Mickey that the TARDIS had also been affected by whatever had caused her to turn her first Doctor human, she hadn't understood the extent of the problem. The Doctor's magnificent, wonderful Time and Space ship was so powerful, so beyond her human understanding that she hadn't been able to imagine anything seriously hurting her.

But now it was clear the ship was hurt. Badly.

If she was badly hurt, what did that mean for the Doctor and Mickey? Would they even be able to get back?

She needed to figure out if there was something she could do to help them from here. And that involved a quick trip to the TARDIS. The one that was still here.

She frowned. Unfortunately, there was no direct way to get there. And she certainly didn't want to take a twenty-minute walk—one way—if she didn't have to. But she was broke until she got paid by the garage, and that wouldn't be for another week so she couldn't take the bus.

It wasn't a big deal, she told herself. She ran a lot further than that on a typical day with the Doctor. She was just being lazy. And if she was going to get there and get back before John was done with whatever he had to do, she had better get going.

As Rose walked out of her bedroom, she could hear the shower running. As much as she loved her mum, she was relieved because that meant she'd be able to avoid another lecture.

"Mum, I'm heading out," she called through the closed door. "Can you do some of my laundry while I'm gone?" There was no answer.

Inwardly shrugging, she walked into the lounge to leave her mother a note.

And spotted her mum's handbag.

She shouldn't, she thought. She really shouldn't. At least not without asking.

Rose returned to the bathroom door. "Mum, can I borrow ten quid and your Oyster card? I'll pay you back when I get paid."

She heard her mother say something. She thought.

"Well, that could have been a yes," Rose said aloud. She swiped the card and fifteen pounds, rather than ten, out of her mother's purse before quickly scribbling a note telling her she'd be back in an hour or two and heading out the door.

Taking the bus turned out to not be much quicker than walking, but at least it was cooler. July in London wasn't as hot as, say, Ancient Rome had been, but the day was warm. And uncomfortably humid. She was grateful for the transport.

And she would pay her mum back. Really.

Rose stared unseeing out the window, memories of the morning returning unbidden as the bus made its circuitous way through Peckham.

The warm, comforting weight of John's arm around her as they lay on the sofa under a blanket.

The softness of his T-shirt under her cheek.

His even softer lips on hers.

They were memories that would fuel her fantasies for months, if not longer.

Her thoughts took a decidedly naughty turn as she imagined his soft lips trailing down her throat, moving ever lower…

Rose shook off the fantasy as the bus neared her stop. She shouldn't be thinking about him like that. Nothing good could come of it, particularly after the Doctor and Mickey returned. Instead she should be thinking about what she'd do when she got to the TARDIS.

Her stop was a block away from the TARDIS, and as she got off the bus she got a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that grew the closer she got to the alley where she was parked.

What if the TARDIS didn't open for her?

What if she did?

If she managed to get inside, then what? She couldn't repair her. Maybe she could use the phone to call the Doctor and Mickey in the TARDIS in her proper time stream.

Would that even work?

Well, at the very least she'd be able to get the watch that held the Doctor's consciousness back, she told herself. But how would that help? She wasn't supposed to open it unless there was an emergency, and certainly there was no emergency right now. Or at least she didn't think so. Would she even know what constituted an emergency in the Doctor's mind? Short of a full out alien invasion or John being on the verge of death, she wasn't sure what one would be.

Rose rounded the corner of the alley—and there she was. The TARDIS. She closed the distance between herself and the Doctor's magnificent Time and Space ship at a jog.

"I missed you," Rose whispered when she reached her, and it wasn't until that moment that she realized how much. She'd known for a long time that she no longer belonged on the Estate, that the TARDIS was her home and would be her home for as long as the Doctor let her stay. She missed the Doctor, she missed traveling in the TARDIS, but she also missed the ship herself. She teased the Doctor about stroking random bits of the TARDIS, but now she did it herself, rubbing her hand over the ridges on the door.

"How you doin', girl?" she asked. She moved her hand to one of the side ridges. "Feelin' any better? Sorry I haven't been by to visit." She frowned as something occurred to her. "Do you even know who I am? I'm Rose, Rose Tyler, and I travel with you, or at least I will."

To her surprise, Rose felt a wave of warmth, something she interpreted as recognition, emanating from the TARDIS. She'd only rarely been able to feel anything from the TARDIS, and only since she'd looked into her Heart. That hadn't happened for this TARDIS yet though, so she couldn't understand why she'd feel anything.

But that wasn't important. What was important was getting inside. What she'd do once there she had no idea, but with her phone unable to reach the Doctor she knew that she had no chance of helping him or Mickey or even the TARDIS unless she was inside.

Rose pulled her key out from under her shirt and slipped its chain over her head. She started to put the key in the lock, and then she stopped herself.

"You're not going to shock me like you shocked the Doctor, are you?" she asked. She didn't really expect an answer so she wasn't surprised when she didn't get one.

After another moment's hesitation, Rose cautiously put the key in the lock.

It wouldn't turn.

She didn't get a shock, but the door didn't unlock either. She tried again, this time wiggling the key in the lock while pushing and then pulling on the door, but it didn't help. The door stayed firmly closed.

Rose let out a loud sigh of disappointment. "Damn. Now what?"

The TARDIS made a quiet, sickly sound that sounded a little like a queasy stomach. She patted the ship comfortingly.

"Don't worry," Rose said. "The Doctor'll get this sorted. You know him. He's brilliant. He can sort just about anything. Don't tell him I said that though. Don't want his head getting any bigger than it already is." She smiled when the light on the top of the tall blue box flashed weakly, as if in agreement.

Rose sat down on the ground and leaned back against the door while she thought.

The Doctor had said the TARDIS would lock him out while she healed herself and that that could potentially take months. It had only been a week. Hardly any time at all, really.

No, that wasn't right. Even though she'd only been here a week, John said he'd come to in an alley—and she knew it was this alley—with no memories on New Year's. That meant that this TARDIS had already been here over six months and still wasn't better.

Rose ran through their arrival back at the Powell Estate in her mind, from the Cloister bell ringing and their emergency landing, to watching the holographic record they'd seen of the TARDIS turning the Doctor human and forcing him out of the ship, to the Doctor's goodbye just before he and Mickey left. Looking back, she realized that the Doctor'd been worried that the reason their TARDIS had brought them here was because the ship couldn't heal herself at all without their help.

She could even die.

And of course the Doctor hadn't said, not directly at any rate. Typical. Why couldn't he just say things flat out? She felt a fleeting wave of anger at him—honestly, it would have been helpful to know that straight off—that was quickly replaced by worry for both him and the TARDIS.

And being stuck here there was nothing she could do. She couldn't call the Doctor, and with the TARDIS door still locked, there was no way she could help him. She couldn't even get the fob watch.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that although she didn't want the TARDIS to be hurt, and of course she didn't want the Doctor and Mickey to be in danger, there was a tiny little selfish part of herself that had been glad when the door wouldn't open, because it meant she'd have more time with John.

[honeybearloco]

“...Don’t Know Me.”

Requested by an anon. (!)Trigger Warning: Self Harm| Please don’t do it guys!

Giriboy X Reader Request: Giriboy likes a fellow celebrity who has a hidden dark past of self harm. You have been warned. 

He didn’t think you had problems like this. You were such a sweet girl. It’s not like it was noticeable anyways. Everyone just saw you as this pure hearted, strong, girl. But your past was hidden under your sleeves.

You began rapping as a hobby. It’s what you did when you were bored. You loved rap, hip hop and R&B. You sometimes dreamed of being a rapper but it wasn’t your first choice in a career you wanted for the rest of your young life.

You were a sweet and lovable girl. Of course not everyone thought the same. You were picked on by the other children just for being a little bit different. You didn’t wear the same size uniform as the other girls. Yours was a couple of sizes bigger than theirs. You never knew children could be so cruel.

As you grew up, the more and more you got picked on. It got to a point where the boys would bully you. The girls would push you down, pull your hair, kick your face in. The guys would sit there and call you names such as, fat ass, idiot, and dumb ass. They brainwashed you into thinking you were supposed to be like them.

And it worked. You hated your image, both inside and outside. You began to starve yourself to become skinny. You’d work out for hours without any water or any food. You’d put on layers of makeup to look like those girls around you. They didn’t need makeup. 

They were naturally beautiful like Yoona from SNSD or Dara from 2NE1. They were naturally beautiful. There wasn’t anyway you could be happy with what you looked like. Not to mention your parents were going through a rough patch in their marriage.

You’d spend hours in front of your bathroom mirror, crying and cursing yourself for the way you looked. You punched your mirror because you couldn’t stand to look at yourself anymore. It only stung a bit. You looked down at the glass in your fist and a crooked smiled appeared on your face.

You looked in the sink and grabbed one of the many mirror shards. You inhaled deeply and put the shard to your skin. Without breathing, you slowly slid the shard across your wrist deeply. You pulled the shard up and looked at the cut you had made. 

It was deep. You exhaled. Something in you became satisfied. And you over and over and over and over again until you were happy with yourself. At lasted until you were seventeen years old.

One night you were performing at a club. It was open mic night. You got in with a fake ID, thanks to your friend. As you were on stage performing, there were many people in the crowd, a few are rappers. You had this stage persona that didn’t make your style in clothing.

You performed in sweatpants and hoodies. No one actually knew your real name. So they called you “Hoodie” (A/N: I know that’s already someone’s stage name, but I’m going to use it here.) You even built up a little fanbase.

You went from performing on open mic night to getting club gigs. You went from getting club gigs to label signing offers. You wanted to be independent for as long as you could before signing to a label.

You found yourself enjoying rapping more than anything else. You had some bad moments but you bounced back because your fans made sure they had your back. They knew you had dealt with depression but they still don’t know what’s under the sleeves.

It wasn’t until late 2015, where you finally found the label for you. You were performing at a club. It was a club you performed at a lot so you had a lot of fans in the crowd. You had an amazing stage. You even had an encore.

After your performance you were at the bar drinking water. You didn’t drink much and you weren’t going to start now. Suddenly someone approached you.

“Amazing job out there kid. You have an amazing stage presence.”

“Thank you. That-”

You turned around to be face to face with Epik High’s Tablo! A legend! You bowed deeply and came up quickly almost falling backwards.

“It’s an honor.”

He only chuckled.

“Don’t be so formal. This is a club after all. Where did you learn to flow like that?”

“I don’t know. It just came natural to me. My Dad used to listen to a lot of rap when I was a kid, and I picked up a lot of it.”

“Where those your songs?”

“Yeah. Lyrics and the beats, all mine.”

“I recently just had a sub label set up under YG Entertainment, HIGHGRND, we don’t have many artists. Would you like to join?”

“Are you serious?!”

“I am.”

“YES! A HUNDRED TIMES YES! I mean, I’d love to.”

You were known the the best first female artist under HIGHGRND! With signing under HIGHGRND, a lot more fame came your way. You were getting all these gigs. Tablo eventually got you a manager to help you manage everything. And it did help significantly.

You were having an album release party. You didn’t know that many people, but Tablo of course did. He invited all his friends and fellow rappers to the party so they could get to know you, maybe for collaborations. And one of those people he invited was, Giriboy.

You didn’t know much about anyone else. So almost everyone was foreign to you. You were standing by yourself, drinking water looking at your phone.

“Y/N! Y/N! I want you to meet someone.” You heard Tablo’s voice.

You looked up to see Tablo smiling at you with a younger man standing next to him. He pushed up his glasses.

“Y/N, this is Giriboy. He’s a fan of yours and really wanted to meet you.”

The two of you shook hands.

“You don’t have to call me that. You can call me Siyoung.”

“Noted. Hello Siyoung.”

He smiled. That was the start of your friendship with him. If you weren’t by yourself or in a meeting with someone, you were with Siyoung. Even if you were by yourself, you were texting Siyoung telling him everything.

You told him everything before you’d even tell any of your friends. He was your biggest fan and you were his biggest fan. No one would dare try to separate the two of you.

Siyoung loved you, more than a friend. You had him from hello. He knew you hid yourself from everyone. You promised to tell him everything, but you knew there was stuff you couldn’t tell him.

You were on tour but your next show wasn’t until next week. You decided to come back to Seoul and chill with Siyoung at the arcade.

“Race you to the air hockey!”

“You’re on!”

The two of you rushed over to the free air hockey table. There were eight of them. All of them were taken except for one. They were spaced out a bit too much.

You went to the left side and he went on the right. He pulled up his sleeves.

“You’re about to lose twenty to nothing noob!”

“Whatever, four eyes! I’m gonna win!”

“Four eyes, huh? People called you Hoodie because they didn’t know your name.”

“But they knew me for my stage presence and that I was a queen!”

“Whatever…Hoodie.”

“That’s it, four eyes!”

You rolled up for sleeves without thinking and grabbed the striker in front of you. Siyoung’s smile left his face and a look of terror replaced it as he stared at your arms.

You looked down and gasped. You quickly covered your arms back up. You ran into the women’s restroom and locked yourself in a stall. Siyoung tried to rush after you.

“Y/N! I didn’t mean to- Y/N!”

‘Great! Good job Y/N! Now he probably thinks you’re a suicidal freak!’ You thought to yourself.

Minutes go by, not a word from you. He couldn’t call you. Your phone was in your purse which was not on you.

Hours ago by, Siyoung becomes inpatient. He waits for all do the women to leave the restroom before running inside. He locks the door behind him.

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you in here? Wow this restroom is nice.”

“Siyoung?”

You open the stall door to see Siyoung staring back at you. You slap his chest.

“What are you doing in the women’s restroom. Do you know what’s gonna happen when someone finds you-”

“I don’t care. I want to know one thing, are you okay?”

“Siyoung I’m fine, I-”

He grabs your hand and pulls you closer.

“Are you okay?”

“Siyoung I promise I’m okay.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“NO! I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT AND I DON’T WANT TO NEED YOU TO ASK ABOUT IT!”

You ripped your hand away from him and unlocked the restroom door. You stormed out and sat in one of the booth and pulled your hood over your head as you laid your head down on the table.

Siyoung followed behind you, but kept his distance. He sat in the seat across from you. He felt terrible for bringing it up and bringing attention to it. But he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

There was no answer from you.

“I shouldn’t have brought attention to it. It just shocked me that you hid stuff like that from me. From what I saw, they weren’t recent. Or do you still-”

“No, I don’t.” You answer.

“That’s good. You know, I’m here for you when you need me. You’re one of my best friends. A-And, I love you.”

You lifted your head and stared at him.

“What?”

“Well I wanted to admit it somewhere nice. This wasn’t my setting of choice to tell you. I’ve fell madly in love with you. I know it sounds cliche but I really have over the course of these past months.”

You didn’t say a word. You looked down. He lifted your chin.

“Why are you looking down?”

“I’m ashamed that you had to see me like this.”

“No, no. Don’t be ashamed. I’m glad you showed me this side of you.”

“Why?”

“So I can take care of you.”

You blushed.

“Siyoung~!” You whined playfully.

“What? Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“Do you ever think of harming yourself, you know, now?”

“No.”

“Good. But if you ever really do think of doing it again, can you come talk to me. And if you want to talk about the past to anyone, you can come talk to me”

“Of course, now can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Y/N.”

“Why are you suddenly so so interested in my past or me?”

“I’ve been interested in you since the day we met. I knew you were beautiful but I didn’t know the soul and personality behind the face. And I’ve come to love you.”

You sighed. “Siyoung, you don’t know me.”

“Well let me get to know you. This you! The one with a troubled past. Your past doesn’t change my love for you. I know my feelings are real, I just want you to accept them.”

You were speechless. He grabbed your hands.

“Will you accept my feelings?”

You nodded.

He slowly pulled down your hood and fixed your hair.

“You look beautiful.”

“Now you’re just sucking up to me.”

“What? It’s true.”

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Secret Wars chapter 1: Meet Tony Stark (originally posted on November 19, 2017)

AN: Greetings everyone! My name is Lightyearpig, you may remember me from such stories like Fooly Falls and Clod on the Run. Today, I bring you an epic sequel to Clod on the Run focusing on the rest of the Marvel Universe that our heroes explore all leading up to a final showdown with the Mad Titan himself! I call it Steven Universe: Secret Wars! To clarify, this takes place after the events of Wanted as it will be shown in Chapter 3 of this part and Part 2. I plan on releasing Part 1 throughout the remainder of 2017 while I plan on beginning Part 2 in February 2018 to commemorate the release of Black Panther. I hope we have a fun ride together and now, on with the show!

"I am deeply sorry sir, but we're going to have to reject your offer due to numerous health complications, but I have to commend you on your patriotism." a recruitment officer said to one Steven Grant Rogers. It was December 1941, the height of World War II and America joining the fight against Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany.

"Please sir, I beg you to give me a chance." Steve pleaded him. "You are ineligible on your asthma alone." the officer rebuked. "Well what can I do?" the young man wondered. "Just stay out of the war and save your own skin. I've recruited too many men that lost their lives out there and I don't want to do it again."

Walking out of the office, Steve looked down at his feet and started walking. He wondered how he could help his country regardless of his frail state, about how proud his parents would've been if he helped them win. Just then, he heard a voice coming from a nearby alleyway.

"Alright babe, if you're not gonna talk, guess I'll have to make you!" a common thug shouted. Thinking that sounded like trouble, Rogers rushed into the alley where he discovered a crook cornering a tall woman with fair skin, pink hair and a jacket over a white dress with a star on her stomach showing a strange stone.

"You leave her alone sir!" Steve called to the criminal, who turned around to eye him. "Oh yeah, and what you gonna do about that scrawny?" he asked grabbing Steve by the neck and slamming him against the wall next to the woman. "So any last words pal?" he said letting go of the young lad who put up his fists. "I could do this all day."

The brute started punching young Steve in various parts of his body like his face, torso, knee and arm before he picked up a trash can lid to use as a shield. "You think you're gonna protect yourself with that bub? Think again!" cried the scoundrel as he prepared to shoot him with a gun before the bullet was deflected by a large pink shape...belonging to the woman.

"You leave him alone!" she demanded pulling out a sword. "Oh, the big pink broad wanna fight me now? Well what ya waitin' for, bring it!"

"No, I refuse to fight you, but I won't let you hurt this man! Now leave or there will be consequences." the woman insisted and the criminal complied, running off like a coward. "Good Lord, that lady means business! I should get outta here before-" he worried before being cornered by a tall man in a military uniform. "Oh crap."

"Are you alright mister?" the woman asked Steve kneeling down to him. "I'm fine m'am, no need to worry." replied Steve as he struggled to get up, his wounds still fresh. "Here, allow me." she offered kissing him on the forehead, which instantly healed his injuries. "Whoa, thank you miss. I uh, didn't get your name."

"My name is Rose Quartz sir." the woman, now calling herself Rose, introduced herself. "Steve Rogers, glad to meet you." Steve replied shaking her hand. "Steve, I've been wondering where you were." a voice called out to him, its owner appearing to them.

"Bucky, good to see you here. I want you to meet Rose Quartz, I tried to help her against this jerk and-" Steve began to introduce Rose before his old friend Bucky Barnes interrupted him. "I actually am pretty familiar with Ms. Quartz. Plus she has an entourage as well."

As Bucky spoke, three other women came up from behind him. The first wore shades & had square hair, the second was shorter with purple skin and the third had peach-colored hair & a pointy nose. "Thank you helping us find Rose James." the third woman thanked Bucky. "You're very welcome Pearl."

"And I suppose you must be Steve Rogers." the square one said adjusting her eyewear to make the New Yorker appear in their reflection. "How did you know?" he asked. "Your friend told us about you. My name is Garnet." she answered.

"What up, I'm Amethyst." her shorter companion added. "And I'm Pearl." Pearl concluded. "So, Bucky told me you wanted to enlist in some war?" she wondered.

"That's right, World War II. All Adolf Hitler wants is to annihilate the Jewish people & conquer the world with an army of super-soldiers known as HYDRA. The United States have only recently joined the effort against them and started recruiting dozens of young men to fight."

"I still don't understand, why would humans be so hateful towards one another?" Rose lamented sorrowfully. "That's just how life is Rose. And that's why I've wanted to join." Steve answered with determination. "I like your spirit, but why?" Amethyst asked. "Because it's simply the right thing to do."

"Repeated monster attacks in seaside town, ocean disappears, giant green hand appears in Delmarva, missing person reports, local boy and donut shop employee abducted by aliens. Good grief, I wonder why the government hasn't gotten their hands on this town already!" a bearded man in a suit and sunglasses wondered examining various news articles on his tablet. This was Tony Stark, genius inventor and head of Stark Industries, one of the leaders of the technology industry. He was on a private jet headed for a little town in Delmarva called Beach City to investigate some recent events concerning alien lifeforms.

"Let me ask again Tony, why are we going to this place again?" his red-haired colleague and girlfriend Pepper Potts wondered. "That I can answer for you Pepp." Tony's chauffeur Happy Hogan replied. "We've gotten reports from S.H.I.E.L.D that those Guardians of the Galaxy weirdos have entered this town and brought an entire Chitauri invasion with them led by a cyborg tiger & a blue lady with a whip." he explained. "Woo, now that's something I'd never think I would say."

"Thanks for the exposition Happy, plus Fury did say he may know a thing or two about these four weirdos." Tony said as he pulled up the image the director of S.H.I.E.L.D sent him of the four beings, which Potts and Hogan examined with concern. "Is that white lady some kind of bird?" Pepper asked. "And why are they so brightly colored?" Happy added.

"Mr. Stark, we are about to touch down in Delmarva Airport. Everyone fasten your seatbelts." a robotic voice called to them. "Thanks J.A.R.V.I.S, looks like we better buckle up."

Upon finally touching down and exiting the plane, the three were immediately swarmed by photographers & news reporters with a single figure standing by himself next to a limo. "Ladies and gentlemen you won't believe it when you see it, but TONY STARK HAS COME TO DELMARVA!" Lawrence Abrams cried with excitement as he made a grand gesture towards Stark.

"Yes yes, it's awesome that I've come here." Tony announced. "But sadly I'm not here to talk with any of you."

"That's right sir." a voice rang out. Stepping in front of the crowd, the man wore a suit and sunglasses with slicked back hair and a S.H.I.E.L.D ID on his chest. "Oh hey, you must be Agent Kirby." Happy greeted him. "Good to see you too Hogan. Now Mr. Stark, come with me." Leading Tony and his companions to the limousine, he handed them a file as they stepped inside.

"I suppose you know your mission by now Mr. Stark, find these so-called 'Crystal Gems' and interrogate them on these recent happenings like the disappearance of the ocean, the giant hand and the abductions." he explained as they examined the file. "And it all takes place at this specific spot, Beach City."

"Wait, but it just looks like an average seaside town." Pepper stated raising an eyebrow. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong Virginia. Some of our top tech specialists have also been checking out a blog called Keep Beach City Weird that analyzes the strange happenings in this town." Kirby said with a charismatic grin. "Among the data gathered were signals being interrupted by a transmission from a green alien creature." He pulled out a photo of said creature from the folder, revealing it to the trio as a being with a triangular head and a green shape on her forehead. Tony just started laughing like a maniac.

"OH MY GOD, I THOUGHT YOU SAID A GREEN ALIEN CREATURE, NOT A GIANT NACHO!" he guffawed. "Anthony, be serious here!" Kirby demanded. "Alright, I'll stop."

"Mr. Kirby, we're here." the driver stated as he pulled into Beach City. "Well, best of luck to all of you." the S.H.I.E.L.D agent said as he opened the door. "And be sure to bring me some souvenirs!"

Exiting the vehicle, the little town was quiet for a few moments. Maybe too quiet. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Happy wondered. "I'm not sure, the file said this is the spot. Maybe we should ask around." Tony replied before he was suddenly swarmed by what seemed to be the townsfolk, screaming his name and asking for his autograph.

"Yo, can I have your autograph Mr. Stark?! Asking for a few friends of mine!" a teenage boy asked him. "I can't believe it, THE Tony Stark in Beach City! Can't wait to tell Quentin about this!" a large dark-skinned man hollered in excitement. "Everyone please, there's enough of me for this entire town." Stark grinned.

"What, and no love for Harold Hogan?" Happy complained before he noticed a little boy giving him a thumbs up. "See, he knows my worth!" he added.

"Alright everyone, give me some space. I got a job to do." Tony said before one last fan made himself known. "Mr. Stark, wait for me!" he shouted shoving the other citizens out of the way and extending his hand to the billionaire. "Ronaldo Fryman, at your service!"

"Here's hoping this guy is the last one." Tony mumbled to himself as he shook his hand. "So how may I help you young man?" he asked.

"I am one of your biggest fans Mr. Stark, if there is anything you need, I'm here!" Ronaldo exclaimed. "Maybe I could hook you up with some of my family's famous fry bits or show you my blog!"

"Oh yeah, speaking of your blog that's partially the reason I'm here." Tony explained pulling out his phone and showing Ronaldo the picture of the four individuals. "Looking for these guys here, you know them?" he wondered.

"Yeah, they're Steven Universe and the Crystal Gems. They're pretty much local celebrities." Ronaldo answered. "They live down the coast in a beach house near the Big Donut."

"Thanks for the directions kid. Pepper, Happy, handle the mob for me." Tony announced as he went on his way. "Okay, see you later Tony." Pepper said waving goodbye. "Wait, you didn't sign my tablet yet!" Ronaldo shouted trying to catch up to him but failed.

Walking along the shore, Tony took in the peaceful beachside scenery of the warm sun above him, the calm ocean rolling on the sand and the rock formation beside him until he came across a small beach house situated under a large statue of a woman with multiple arms. "Whoo, whoever carved this must have a fine eye for beauty!" he proclaimed walking up the building's steps. He arrived at the door and knocked on it.

He crossed his arms as he waited for someone to answer. "Whoever lives here must be takin' their sweet time." he thought before he heard the front door open. Looking down, he saw a boy with curly hair wearing a pink T-shirt with a star on it looking up at him.

"Hello there sir, may I help you?" he asked. "Yeah, name's Tony Stark. You wouldn't happen to be one Stephen Quasar, wouldn't you?"

The boy gasped in awe. He may have gotten his name wrong, but standing before him was none other than Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. "No sir, my name is Steven Universe."

And so it begins boys, girls and everyone else. How will the Crystal Gems react to a legend meeting their young ward? What does S.H.I.E.L.D have planned for our geode gang? Is there a sinister plot brewing right under their noses, or in this case over their planet? Find out next time on Steven Universe Secret Wars chapter 2, Assembled We are Strong! Thank you all for reading this first chapter but for now, here's a little taste of one story to come.

A sound soul

Dwells within a sound mind

That trusts no one

GRAVITY SOUL: COMING SOON

[vldrarepairs]

That “So Glad I’m In Love With My Best Friend” Kind of Feeling

Sequel to this fic.

Lance’s lips are buzzing with the lingering aftereffects of kissing Hunk, and his head is swimming with want. He know it’s too late now to chase after Hunk, but quiznak does he want to.

“So, are you just pretending that didn’t happen or…”

“I think I’m in love with Hunk,” Lance murmurs.

Pidge sighs and searches for the bartender. “I knew I should have gotten Shiro to come with us.”

Lance looks over at her. “What do I do?”

Pidge grimaces, clearly wishing anyone else could be dealing with this situation now that she’s left to comfort a sulking Lance alone. “I don’t know.”

“Well, what would you do?” he asks, desperation raising the pitch of his voice.

“Ask literally anyone else. Who usually helps you deal with your love life?” He looks down, and her expression falls when she realizes the answer. “Oh…”

“How long have I been in love with Hunk?” Lance groans and covers his face. “And why did I sit on his lap?”

Pidge reaches over to awkwardly pat his back. “Hey, it’s Hunk. You know he’s probably fine with it.”

Lance shoots her a glare. “I know he’ll be fine with it. I don’t want that.” He frowns. “I want him to actually like it. I want him to like me.”

“He might.” Pidge motions for a refill and makes a face when the new bartender asks her for ID. “You should talk to him.”

“No way. You saw how he ran out of here.”

“Yeah, and you watched him go,” she points out as she digs out the identification card she’d made specifically for their outing.

“Pidge…” Lance whines. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” she repeats, pouting when the bartender hands the card back to her and shakes his head. “Let’s head back to the castle. Maybe Shiro can help.”

“No, just leave me here to wallow.”

Pidge grumbles, “And we’re back here again…”

It takes a bit of coaxing to get Lance to his feet, and by then Pidge’s patience is gone. She drags him back to the castle despite his near-constant complaints.

“Welcome back! Did you enjoy your time off?” Coran asks, all pep and smiles as they enter the main room.

“Not exactly.” Pidge releases Lance and heads off to her workroom, muttering to Coran as she passes, “He’s all yours.”

Coran raises a brow as he glances between Pidge’s retreating figure and Lance’s downcast expression. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Lance murmurs, immediately heading for his room.

“Now, I happen to be an expert on nothing.” Coran slings an arm over Lance’s shoulders. “Maybe I can offer you some advice.”

Lance sighs. “I kissed Hunk.”

“Oh!” Coran straightens. “I didn’t know you were interested in him.”

“Me neither.”

“Ah…” Coran smiles. “Well, what did he do after you kissed?”

“He ran away.” Lance droops forward.

“I see.” Coran pats him on the back. “In that case, I have just the thing.” He leads Lance towards the medical bay.

Lance groans. “Not the healing pods again…”

“What? They need cleaning!” Coran nudges his side as he whispers. “And it’s a good place to plan without anyone overhearing us.”

“Fine, but only because my night is already miserable, and this couldn’t possibly make it any worse.”

Coran ignores him. “What you need to do is find a way to get Hunk interested in you. Then your problem’s solved!”

“He already knows me, though, and he isn’t interested.”

“Don’t you worry about that.” Coran winks, and Lance experiences a brief moment of regret. The only thing keeping him from changing his mind is the memory of Hunk holding him and the desire to experience it again. “I have lots of ideas.”

Lance begins his morning early the next day and heads straight to the kitchen while he reviews the plan he’d created with Coran’s help last night. He grabs a bowl of food goo, mostly for show, and waits. The second Hunk steps through the door, operation: seduce Hunk begins.

Luckily, Hunk arrives only a few ticks later.

“Hey, man!” Lance greets him with a grin. “What a night, huh?”

Hunk visibly tenses at the sound of Lance’s voice, but he waves all the same. “Hey, Lance. Yeah, that was, uh…” He walks over to the goo dispenser. “You’re up early.”

“I thought I’d get some training in. Wanna join me?”

Hunk shakes his head. “I’ve got some recipes to work on. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Maybe after?” Lance smiles and jumps to his feet. “I could help you out.”

“No, I’m okay. But thanks for-”

“Or we could just skip the baking and make something even sweeter instead.”

Hunk freezes and slowly turns back to look at him. “Are you practicing pickup lines again?”

“Maybe.” Lance winks. “What did you think?”

Hunk reaches over for a bowl and serves up some goo. “It’s a little strong.”

“You’re a little strong.”

Hunk nearly overfills his bowl in one movement, and he quickly scoops up a rag to dab at the little bit of goo that spilled over. “Maybe you should ask someone else for help with that. I’ve got some work to do on my lion.” The words come out almost too fast for Lance to understand as Hunk scoops up his bowl and a spoon and rushes out of the room.

Lance makes a face. “Well, that didn’t work.”

The second phase is a little less subtle. During training, Allura asks them to team up for some one-on-one close combat drills, which Coran had suggested during breakfast.

“Oh, I’ll work with Hunk!” Lance volunteers with a bright smile.

“Good,” Allura nods. “You two can go over there.”

Hunk follows Lance to the far side of the room as Keith and Pidge pair off, followed by Shiro and Coran.

“Ready to take me down?” Lance asks, tossing Hunk a fake sword.

Hunk catches it, frowning. “Sure.” He won’t look at Lance, and Lance swears he almost looks uncomfortable.

“Hey, you know, I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to be weird or anything.” Lance knows this isn’t part of the plan, but after scaring Hunk off this morning, he can’t bear to make things worse between them.

Hunk relaxes somewhat as he stretches. “It wasn’t weird.”

“It was a little weird,” Lance insists as he stretches beside him. “I mean, we definitely made out.”

Hunk blushes and looks away. “Well, I mean… It was… Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah?” Lance nudges his side. “So, we’re good?”

“Yeah, man.” Hunk chuckles. “We’re fine.”

“Great, cause I’m ready to fight.”

Hunk finally cracks a smile, and Lance can feel his heart melting at the sight. It’s a wonder he never realized until now just how amazing Hunk looks when he’s smiling. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

They move into a comfortable stance, facing each other, swords at the ready. Allura glances their way and watches as Lance makes the first move. Hunk has a rock-solid defense as always, but Lance has speed on his side. After several successfully deflected attacks, Lance manages to catch Hunk off guard with a quick tap to his side.

“I win!” Lance cheers.

Hunk laughs beside him. “Great job! You’re getting faster!”

Coran catches Lance’s eye from across the room and waggles his eyebrows. Lance looks away and hopes no one else caught the obvious signal. For a moment, he reconsiders the entire plan. Part of him is ready to give up and just pine in peace. After all, being around Hunk is enough. Isn’t it?

Except after last night, Lance is finally paying attention to all the things he’s missed during their years of friendship: the way Hunk’s muscles ripple across his back as he stretches, the calloused fingers Lance remembers tangling in his hair, even the soft lips Lance swears he can still feel when he closes his eyes…

Lance moves into position for a second round, his mind made up. “Ready to try again?”

Being friends with Hunk isn’t enough. Not now. Not after he’s gotten a taste.

“Okay.” Hunk settles back into a defensive stance.

“No, you attack me this time,” Lance says with an easy smile. “Let’s mix it up.”

Hunk pauses, then nods. “Good idea.” He waits until Lance is ready, then he moves forward, attacking with more force but less speed than Lance had used earlier. Lance darts out of the way and pivots to catch Hunk’s next move with his sword.

“Too slow,” Lance teases as he moves in closer, shooting Hunk a wink. Hunk shakes his head and steps back, swinging faster in the hopes of managing a blow before Lance has the chance to block. Lance shifts out of the way and slides his sword down the length of Hunk’s outstretched blade, brushing elbows with him as Lance slips behind him, goading him on.

“You need to actually block,” Hunk grumbles as he turns to face Lance again. “You're just moving out of the way.”

“Just keeping you on your toes!” Lance grins.

Hunk surges forward, his sword tapping against Lance’s shoulder. “Got you, La-” His momentum carries him too far, knocking both of them backward, and Hunk lands sprawled over Lance’s middle. Honestly, this was almost better than Lance had planned.

Lance laughs. “Wow, is this payback for me ending up on your lap last night?”

Hunk scoots back, a bright red flush coloring his cheeks. “No, that was just an accident.”

“Sure, it was.” Lance shoots him a smirk. “I mean, not that I-”

“No, it really was!” This time, Lance can tell something is wrong, and he wonders if he might have pushed too far.

“I know it was!” Lance holds up his hands. “I was just joking.”

“Sorry, man.” Hunk sits up and rubs the back of his head. “Um, maybe we should switch partners or something.”

“What?” Lance sits up, voice rising in concern. “We don’t-”

“Hunk, Lance, is something wrong?” Allura calls from her position near the middle of the room.

“Nope, we’re fine!” Lance answers before Hunk can speak up. “Totally fine.”

Despite his best efforts, moments later, he and Shiro are sparring while Lance begins to wonder if he really has ruined everything between them.

The idea of losing Hunk’s friendship eats at Lance through lunch, sending a fresh jolt of hurt every time Hunk avoids him throughout the afternoon. It isn’t until after an unnervingly quiet dinner that Lance decides he needs to end this plan and try to salvage what he can.

After searching all of Hunk’s usual spots, Lance settles for the one place he knows Hunk has to go eventually.

Hunk’s room.

Lance eventually sits down beside the door, waiting for Hunk and ignoring the strange look Keith sends him when he walks by. After rehearsing what he needs to say under his breath for what feels like hours, Lance is nearly ready to doze off when he finally hears footsteps.

“Lance?”

Lance scrambles to his feet and rushes to Hunk’s side before he has a chance to turn around and leave. “Can we talk?”

Hunk takes a step back. “I’ve got-”

“I’m really sorry.” Lance gently grabs Hunk’s shoulder before he can leave. “I made things weird. I just really, really liked kissing you and I’m pretty sure I like you. I think I’ve liked you for a while now and I didn’t realize it until I was…” Lance’s voice trails off for a moment, the memory of Hunk’s lips on his bringing a fresh blush to his cheeks. “Look, I know I messed up, and Coran’s flirting advice probably made it worse, but I promise I’ll stop. Please just stop avoiding me.”

“Wait…” Hunk stares at him. “What? You...like me?”

Lance nods, worrying at his lower lip as he waits for an answer.

“So, the flirting was on purpose? You were…”

“Trying to get you to like me back,” Lance finishes for him, his heart sinking.

“Oh.” Hunk lets out a soft breath. “I thought…”

“I get it. You’re not interested. It’s fine. I-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hunk shakes his head. “I never said that. I just thought I made it weird cause I was into you and really, really into that kiss.”

“Wait.” Lance moves closer. “You like me, too?”

“Yeah, man.” Hunk smiles. “What’s not to like? You’re amazing.”

“And the kiss?”

Hunk blushes and nods. “That, too.”

Lance grins, stepping forward. “So, if I wanted to kiss you again?”

“I’d be into that,” Hunk murmurs, looking down at Lance with wide eyes.

Lance leans in, slipping his arms around the back of Hunk’s neck. “Okay.” This time, he pays attention to the way Hunk grips his sides while he moves closer. This time, he’s watching the color rising in Hunk’s cheeks and the way his breathing picks up. This time, when they kiss, Lance notices the way his stomach fills with heat and the world around him disappears. This time, he doesn’t deny the thrill of joy when Hunk pulls him closer as he falls back against the closed door, reaching blindly for the scanner to let them in. This time, Lance is the one who eagerly presses in while they stumble forward together, one hand tangling in Hunk’s hair while he uses the other to lock the door behind them and ensure their privacy.

This time, Lance doesn’t question the instinctive desire to part his lips and taste the citrusy lip balm Lance finally convinced Hunk to try a month ago. Instead, he settles his free hand on Hunk’s jaw, positioning them more comfortably so Lance doesn’t have to reach quite so far to continue kissing him. Without an audience, they can enjoy this at their own pace, each of them savoring the growing heat between them instead of burning through it in seconds.

Lance gasps when Hunk’s hands slip down and cup the backs of his thighs, lifting him up and carrying him to the bed for Hunk to sit and settle Lance on his lap. Lance isn’t sure whether it’s more impressive that Hunk managed to carry him so effortlessly or that he managed to do so while somehow keeping contact with Lance’s lips the entire time. Either way, he’s pretty sure that one move is infinitely more impressive than any steps to the plan he and Coran came up with.

“Quiznak…” Lance breathes into Hunk’s lips, his heart pounding in his ears.

Hunk chuckles, leaning back to look at him. “Hope that was okay.”

Lance grins, his voice lower than normal when he answers. “Definitely.” He positions himself more comfortably and rests his hands on Hunk’s shoulders. “Guess you liked having me on your lap after all.”

Hunk blushes again, and the sight is somehow more endearing than Lance is prepared for. “Well, that and we’re kind of the same height this way.”

“I just think it’s hot you can carry me around like that.” Lance shifts forward to kiss a line down Hunk’s jaw. “I meant it when I said you’re strong.”

Hunk swallows, his grip on Lance’s hips tightening. “You meant that?”

Lance nods and leans back to look up at Hunk. “Yeah, man.” He smirks. “You know, I meant what I said about making something sweeter, too, you know.”

Hunk makes a face. “Yeah, that just sounds like a bad pickup line.”

“Hmmm…” Lance shrugs. “Give me a minute, and maybe I’ll change your mind.” Then, he bends down for another kiss, sure he’ll coax a different answer out of Hunk by the end of the night. He doesn’t, but Hunk enjoys every second he spends trying, and the two of them enjoy waking up next to each other the next morning even more.