#you know I never registered that the lady in this is singing ‘pissing the night away’ slfjladjla

[vanillann]

the third rule debacle (emily prentiss x fem!reader)

a/n: this request spark something in me. also my wlw are always so soft omg it’s so cute 

word count: 1.9k

warning: swearing and sexual innuendos

emily prentiss masterlist

Emily Prentiss had three rules that she followed in her life, she normally didn’t like these types of rules but these three were important.

Rule one was never to let her mother know too much. She learned that the hard way after she told her mother about this boy she liked or thought she liked, and she invited his entire family to dinner to talk about it.

Rule two was never let Penelope say she’d be DD for a night out. She never actually stayed sober, she loved pretty drinks with umbrellas in them, and Emily didn’t mind being sober most nights.

Rule three was don’t ever date a coworker, which is something Emily was known for at FBI Headquarters. She just thought it made things messy and complex for no good reasons, close friends were great but anything more was a bad idea.

Until they got a new teammate from the CIA, who asked to work closely with fewer international crimes, who sat across from Emily with a sticky sweet smile that made Emily have a sweet tooth.

She hated rule three so much it was giving her stomach aches because she sat there like a goddess and Emily wondered why she even made this rule anyways. She was starting to look dumb every time she’d wink from the other side of the bullpen at her or when she told Morgan he “wasn’t her type” then turned to look at her.

“Come on Em, you’d look so hot together!” Pen moved her glass on the table, her word somewhat slurred and Emily was confused about how she was already wasted.

“I think I’m on Pen's side this time,” JJ tilted her head to Pen but never lost eye contact with Em. JJ was getting annoyed at the pinning, so annoyed she started ranting to Henry about it.

“I don’t date coworkers,” Emily played with the glass of water in front of her, playing with the droplets as they fell down to distract her from her own problem. Could it be easily solved? Yes. Would it be? Probably not.

“But what if she is your exception,” JJ spoke sincerely, so sincerely it scared Emily shitless.

Pen slammed her fist into the table, her mouth wide open as she sang “you are my only exception” and Emily recognized the song quickly. It was Hayley Williams for crying out loud.

“Who’s an exception?” Em looked over her shoulder at an overly confident Morgan and normally she would have loved to see him but it made her feel worse. Morgan was supposed to pick up (Y/N) which meant she was now here and Emily would be left pining for her all night.

“(Y/N),” JJ spoke softly, looking around Morgan to try and find the girl in question.

“She’s getting a drink over there.”

Emily looked to where Morgan’s finger pointed, smiling lightly when she spotted the girl leaned against the bar with a little smile on her face. Even under the rough bar lights over her head, she looked like something you’d rip from the magazine just to tap it to your wall.

She looked like everything Emily wanted in someone, minus working together.

“Just drop the silly rule,” Morgan dramatically rolled his eyes, watching Emily come back down to Earth.

“It’s not a silly rule, it’s serious!” Emily looked between her friends, hoping at least one would back her up but she was left empty-handed. She knew they were right, it wasn’t that serious but it felt serious. What if it ended in flames?

She already came to the team late, would they kick her off over this? Yeah, okay, maybe she was overthinking it but to Emily, this was the biggest reason she didn’t date coworkers.

“Ladies!”

(Y/N) came around the corner like a fast-moving bullet, her arms wrapping around JJ’s shoulder in a hurry. Her excitement bounced off her to Emily quickly, like it always did.

“(Y/N)! We were just talking about you!” Pen reached for the former CIA agent, her hand flying over her mouth as sound as she realized what she said.

“Glad to know I’m a topic of conversation,” she smiled slightly at Pen, squeezing her hand before she spun and spotted Emily watching her. A smile was quick grace on both of their lips, which just made the rest of the team's points made.

“How could we not talk about you,” Emily did her best for the comment not to come off too flirty but by JJ’s smirk she failed miserably.

“Well I hope it’s dirty like my martini,” the girl winked, smiling when the taller dude from the bar brought the drink over with a smile to the girl's energy. Emily shook her head and smiled to herself.

How couldn’t you adore that?

“So, is Spencer coming or-” she trailed off, looking to her other teammates to find her answers about the sweeter boy.

“He’s flying out to see his mom tonight,” Morgan nodded, his smile flatter slightly but he bounced back quickly.

“Man, I was hoping he’d be here so I could see him dance!”

The conversation was easy there like it always had been. (Y/N) was a great fit for the team, had everyone wrapped under her finger in seconds without trying. Emily knew she had imprinted the team forever, she had imprinted her forever.

“(Y/N), look at this baby panda!” Garcia reached across JJ, her pink blinged phone glittered under the lights of the bar. Without much thought, Pen pushed her phone father until her knuckles pushed the martini from the hardwood table into (Y/N) lap.

Her face was one of shock, looking down at her lap as the liquor pooled in her lap. Then a little smile painted across her cheeks and suddenly she was laughing, like throw your head back and make the room stop laughing.

“Better not let my PO find me,” she joked, smiling when JJ took the few napkins from the table and tried to clean up the little mess that was made. Pen continued to apologize, her eyes welling up with tears before (Y/N) reached for her hand.

“Pen, it was just an old Green Day shirt. Don’t worry sweets, as long as it wasn’t the Chemical Romance we’re clear,” she smiled at Pen, which made the blonde release drunk giggles.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” she waved off the table, taking a few of the napkins JJ had with her as she pushed back everyone until she found where she was looked for. Emily watched her back until she could no more, her eyes suddenly trained on the door.

“Go talk to her, I’m begging you,” JJ reached across the table, her hands clapped together with pleading eyes.

“Rules were made to be broken Em,” Morgan shrugged, his body already moving so Emily could slide out the small wooden booth.

“Says the FBI agent,” Emily smirked and Morgan slid out the booth anyways. She knew they were right, it was clear as day she needed to confess something. She knew (Y/N) felt somewhat the same, she at least hoped.

Her boots were moving over the sticky floor of the bar before she registered that she left the table. Her mind followed the same route (Y/N) did seconds ago. An older man reached out to catch her attention but she walked right around him. No soul could get in the way of her right now, because she finally was ready to break rule three.

Fuck rule three, rule three was made for the scared girl who didn’t know what she felt like, but she was going to find out.

Her hand lightly pushed open the door to the bathroom, smiling when she spotted her standing in front of the mirror with the paper towels in her hand. She looked up from her shirt, smiling at Emily in the mirror than looking back at the mess.

“Gotta piss?”

“Oh god no,” Emily let out a little laugh, she didn’t say anything funny but she knew she couldn’t stay serious if this was going to go her way.

“Good, I wasn’t giving my bathroom,” she smiled under her breath, something Emily never found that attractive before she did it.

Emily finally walked into the bathroom, letting the door lightly shut behind her. She realized how harsh the red tank top as a leather jacket was against the white tiled of the bathroom, but standing next to the girl, woman, in the Green Day tee with a stain down the front and the most acidic washed jeans she’d seen, she felt right where she belonged.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course Em,” she spoke without looking up, her hand moving to the tap to turn on the water.

“Are you free Sunday?”

Her hand stopped on the cold water knob, her eyes slowly moving from the tee to her own eyes. She couldn’t believe she had said it that smoothly too. She didn’t stutter or try to fight it. She didn’t wanna fight now she felt anymore.

“Why?”

“I was thinking dinner,” Emily leaned on the wall beside the sink, her finger coming up to her mouth as she bit her fingernails, cursing Spencer for bringing it up as her nervous habit, now she can’t stop.

“Like date dinner?”

“Hopefully.”

Emily gave her best smile, hoping that would make her more inclined to say yes, although she was hoping she liked her more to just say it to start with.

“I thought you didn’t date coworkers,” (Y/N) turned so her side was leaning against the sink, her body now facing Emily’s right on. That just made her more intimidated.

Emily didn’t really know what to say at first. Does she give her the long version about how she thinks they’d be good? Does she just tell her things have changed? As her brain wrapped around something to say, her brain went back to Pen singing the Paramore song and she couldn’t stop the smile that split her face in two.

“You’re my exception,” Emily spoke the words casually, shrugging as if she didn’t think over her words over words forever.

But it was worth it as (Y/N) smiled, pushing off the sink and reaching out from Emily. Her hand curled at the back of her neck, her face pulling closer to her own as their lips collided. Emily could feel her lip gloss running off her own lips onto her own, and nothing made her smile more than knowing she had proof now.

She was kissing her and her lips were as soft as frosting and Emily was so thankful for her sweet tooth. She was her sugar high she’d never come down from. As their kiss became the ghost of one, the world filled back in. She remembered she was in a dingy bar bathroom while her liquor ran into her shirt more and more.

“I’m actually completely free this Sunday,” (Y/N) licked her lips, smiling to herself as she looked up at Emily with the most innocent look in her eye.

“Never pictured you tasting like strawberries.”

Emily smirked, leaning in for another because she needed a taste of what breaking rules felt like.

“You thought about how I’d taste.”

“Oh all the time,” she rolled her eyes and smirked but leaned in herself because while she was her sugar, Emily Prentiss was her spice and she wasn’t going to stop reminding them both.

Emily smiled a little harder as she exited the bathroom because she both ruled three for the girl she’d break the law for.

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[ace-t-fic]

Riverside Gryff’s

Phone fanifc be warned no grammar (I made the greaser au + plus any complaints about lily’s writing are based heavily off she was written I just added more on having a sister like petunia to it.)

The ear-piercing sound of glass shattering dulled in comparison to the loud chatter and Music, and that filled the room. But the workers heard it with a heavy sigh as one marked down another tally mark. That's the fifth one; it's only three days into the week. These kids brought in good business but Minerva thinks they’ll run her dry with all the replacements she has to order.

“I’m headed out!” Diana rushed tapping Severus on the shoulder. He only bid her half-assed goodbye before he finished tying up his apron. She was an elderly woman that handled the hard coffee crowd in the morning. By the time Severus clocked in half of the morning/afternoon crowd was beginning to rush out. They were replaced by the younger staff who could handle their own crowd— teenagers.

If there's one thing besides the teenagers, they hated about this place; it was working the floor. Sure the girls loved it and reveled in being next to the many teen sleazeballs that frequented it, but Severus did not. Weasley also downright hated it; the Spinner's End kids had no qualms about throwing him the harshest of nicknames. ‘Fire Crotch’ was a favorite of Severus'.

But Severus hated working the floor whenever any of the jocks down from the riverside visited. Especially when A bunch of spoiled jocks who thought they were thugs came in. Riverside Gryff’s etched across their backs on black leather. All they did was change from their letterman jackets on the way over. They never did anything but bully and abuse lesser people than them. On the other hand, Severus knew true thugs that would stab you in the gut for anything.

"Whatcha thinking in that pretty little head there?"

"All the self-defense moves my mother taught me to ward off men like you." He stated boardely before grabbing at his notepad "What will it be, Potter."

"The in-between Sundae."

"The hell is that? Severus said before reaching under the counter to grab a hold of one of the menus. "We don't have that here."

"Sure you do" James started, a sultry smile gracing his lips as he leant halfway over the counter."Just give me a bottle of whipped cream and spread ya legs-"

"You never know when to shut up, give up and move on," Severus hissed. Briefly eyeing the patron over giving them disapproving looks.

"Of course I don't. I've seen you in my leather jacket."He smirked, leaning closer on the bar." and out of it."

"Excuse me!" Snipped a customer causing Severus to jump-start and remember he's at work, hitting customers is not in the business model.

God, he really hated life sometimes, more so when he took into account that lily was probably the worst friend he's ever picked up. Realistically she roped him into more trouble than his short run with Lucius. She was his best friend but they all were too fucked in their childhoods in too many ways.

They met in church, and he lived on to see her try as hard as possible to shake the notion that she was square. She wanted to rock and sing blues in midnight clubs. Ask Severus, and he'd tell you he had always thought she was jealous of his sister in that way. Petunia, as much as a devil, still managed to garner her family's love while she was sneaking out from the back porch with a cigarette in her pocket and Vernon waiting in a cab a couple of blocks down. At one point she had roped Lily into being her secret keeper.

Lily always folded under pressure and being a square for the rest of her life crisped the edges. So much so that she got involved with the crowds at the riverside. Severus would've never seen it coming with their separate schools and incomes between them. That was until he started shadowing her in town and movie theaters. They went to a dollar movie that day. Abbott and Costello and Severus stood there awkwardly with three other girls who called em'selves goldies. They got into their seats, and it was fine but it seemed like they were making a fuss over nothing and throwing popcorn around. They kept glancing to the side of them and that was when he had noticed a group of three dudes sitting a couple of seats down and to the side.

It got to the point where it was irking Severus just enough for him to take a glance at what exactly put the girls in a frenzy. Got his answer as an equally irked Potter rolled his head up to glance in their direction. He had remembered him of course, preacher's son and an asshole that spent Sunday school telling Severus that since he was a bastard he'd be going to hell. Now he's a thug that keeps staring even as Severus turns his head coming to terms with not getting to watch the movie.

Even when it had finished and Severus retreated to the bathroom to wash his hands an amused James slid past him with a mumbled apology. It got even worse from there when he got his slug from a neighbor who passed and was the designated driver. Finally, it ended with a bonfire on the lake. Lily had gotten ahead of herself in strip poker and Severus was there with his shirt to save her when she went prancing along the lake. The night ended with both of them soaked and a little worse for wear.

Once the hysteria passed and lights in the lodge filled with the teens, Severus had sat on the pier miserable. James plopped beside him and his jacket heavy on his shoulder now that he was shirtless. The whole thing was weird, the atmosphere changing and stretching uncomfortably whenever they were in the same Vicinity together. Didn't stop Severus from leading him back to his car, though. When Lily had found them a few drunken words and curses later Severus had tried his hardest to drag her home. A moment later they were both found in a tree.

Severus is a little irritated to wake up and find the preacher looming over his hospital bed in prayer with his mother. A letterman jacket sitting on the seat beside him.

"How's Lilly darling," Trelawney asked, fumbling with the register.

"She's good, doing much better in the silent towns. Reckons she'll visit for the summer."

"Oh, sweet girl. Shame that DUI, these gangs they got themselves into, gold ladies and whatnot. In my day I would've been dealt with, with! a wooden spoon. "She chattered grabbing a few bills before jampacking the drawer closed." You be careful with these lot, charming boys aren't passaged to paradise." Before making her way back to the table she was servicing.

"Full of shit, that one." He heard a voice mumble near him. "Untouched and a nail-biter." Severus’s hands clenched to hide his nails before glaring at the curly-haired boy.

"Oh come on, I'm not talking about you."

"Then why make observations pertaining to me." Severus seethed, abruptly reopening the register. "Well, it's adorable when you do it-"

"Piss off," He said before going back down the bar.

His night only got worse as 4 more glasses were broken and a fight broke out. A drink knocked over and a wet shirt later with stains on his jeans had him reeling for a day off. And when clean up was said and done Minerva locked up the gates and he saw Arthur off on the bus he waited under his spotlight.

"Your shirt is a little wet there, need a change?"

[fwibblefwobble]

modern!au single dad tomioka giyuu: a concept

modern!giyuu x reader headcanons

so a few days ago i was up late texting a friend and went wild with the idea of him as a single father in a modern!au... here’s a collection of my ravings

warning: light profanity

- you two live two doors down from each other in your apartment complex

- you quite literally bump into him on your way back in from work

- he’s like ack i’m sorry and helps stabilize you

- never really noticed you lived so close and keeps an eye on your door whenever he’s on his way in/out

- one time he’s just spacing out and staring at your unit and you walk out and make eye contact with him

- he’s like oh shit

- you’re confused but you just assume he spaced out and don’t ask

- he has somewhere to be but he goes back inside and waits until he knows you’re out of the building 

- just waits with his head in his hands like what the fuck

- his daughter’s like ???? you good????

- he’s like fine yeah 200% buttercup don’t worry about it

- proceeds to worry about it for the next week

- the next time you meet he’s checking the mail after a morning run

- light sheen of sweat and jacket rolled up to his elbow, some sweet forearm action

- it’s a sunday morning after you went out with friends and you look a lil trashed cause you spent the night at their apartment and came back early in the morning 

- your mascara’s kinda flaky and you did a half-assed job at washing your face but you didn’t expect to run into Hot Neighbor™

- he greets you and hopes that you forgot about the thing that happened a week ago

- if anything your mind is occupied by why the hot single dad two doors down is giving you butterflies

- he does the thing where he pushes the hair in front of his face back

- its hot in a post workout sweat kinda way

- casual conversation ensues again in the elevator

- you bring up something about you being a ta at a local uni getting her masters

- he’s like not to capitalize on your talents but would you mind tutoring my kid for a day, i have to work overtime at the office on thursday and all my friends are booked

- assures you his kid is a very well behaved lovely girl, you’re apprehensive because children but also yes sure i have nothing better to do

- my guy has her room decorated

- whatever color she wants he paints it for her

- she has her own lil window with fake plants cause she can’t quite take care of real ones yet

- you and his daughter hang out after you help her with homework, watch tangled for like 2 hours and make dinner together

- she doesn’t do much because children with knives is not a good idea but you make her feel like she’s contributing to the team

- lots of high fives and good jobs, makes her feel very important

- he comes back home so fucking exhausted but he sees you and his kid on the couch passed the fuck out and oh my god

- he has half a mind not to drop his shit right there and join you

- against his will he wakes you up and you’re embarrassed like oh my god i’m so sorry i fell asleep in your apartment cuddling your daughter

- he’s so in love lmao that image of you and his kid lives in his head rent free

- he’s kinda breathless thinking about it

- once you’re safely back in your own apartment he tucks his girl in and makes sure not to wake her up

- lays in his bed just like wow

- you guys talk the next day and you’re still apologizing profusely, you feel so weird and you can’t look him in the eye

- he insists on at least getting you lunch, you guys settle on dinner at a local place that’s not too fancy

- putting yourself together before the pseudo not date but kinda date is The Strugglebus Saga

- you get in a facetime with like 5 of your friends trying to figure out what to do

- tiptoeing the fine line between date and not really date, what’s too comfy and what’s too casual

- “is red my color? does he like red lipstick? is lipstick too much?”

- he kinda hears you cause the walls are just the tiniest bit thin but it’s cute cause he’s having a tiny crisis of his own

- arranges shinobu to take care of his baby while he’s gone

- his daughter helps him get dressed it’s so cute

- “ARE YOU GOING ON A DATE???”

- he’s like no...?

- “dad, that isn’t your color.”

- confidence lowkey destroyed but it’s ok

- wears his lucky socks his daughter gave him for father’s day for good luck

- it’s a very cute and chill date, he picks you up at your door and the both of you are nervous cause it’s been a while since you’ve put yourselves out there

- it’s a tiny bit awkward in the beginning but as you guys ease up a bit it’s all good laughter and banter

- he doesn’t want you to know he heard you freaking out but he makes sure to tell you that you look nice just as subconscious validation

- both of you are a lil sad when the main date portion is over so you guys decide to get ice cream and walk around after

- and wow is it just me or do the lights get brighter when he’s around???

- he thinks the exact same thing

- he hasn’t felt this alive in a very long time

- you guys split the bill for the main date but he pays for your ice cream cause he’s a big gentleman 

- and when you guys say bye to each other he walks into his apartment, closes the door and lets out this sigh

- he turns around and its his daughter and shinobu both giving him The Look™ and he just refuses to acknowledge it

- you go home and scream a little bit

- your ears are hot and your cheeks are burning but you can’t stop *smiling*

- gotta rub your cheeks a lil to soothe the pain

- by now you guys have each other’s phone numbers and text each other that you had a good time before you each go to sleep and both of you are smiling at your phones like absolute idiots

- the next time you see each other is completely by accident

- you’re at a bookstore browsing and you see him around the corner with some flowers tucked under his arm looking through some stationery or stuffed animals

- and you’re like?? flowers??? does he have someone did i misinterpret that whole entire outing was that just out of courtesy and not cause he was interested in me

- but he says hi and strikes up a conversation

- you kinda timidly ask about the flowers and he’s like oh! i saw these when i was coming home from work and i remember walking by the florist with my daughter and she said these were her favorite flowers so i was thinking of surprising her when i got home

- as if your heart could swell with any more love for this man

- the love in his heart and his attention for DETAIL?? unparalleled. he is TOP TIER

- and at that point you’ve been over close to a dozen times, his daughter’s a smart cookie she doesn’t even need tutoring but ever since you looked after her she keeps on asking him if he can invite the pretty lady next door

- he asks you and you are more than accommodating, that girl is an absolute angel

- elects to leave out the part where she called you his girlfriend

- not quite there yet but maybe someday

- he catches you and her singing the mulan soundtrack with plastic hairbrushes once and it’s adorable domestic ass shit

- you’re 200% down to listen to this girl talk about elementary school drama

- honestly better than half the shit that happens at uni

- giyuu asks you to cover for him at pta meetings and all the other moms are very disappointed to see you instead of regularly scheduled eye candy

- if marissa looks at me like that one more time i swear we’re gonna scrap

- when you tell him about it he’s absolutely oblivious to the fact that every single mom is in love with him

- he just thought they were nice, nothing more to it

- kinda really pissed that they treated you like shit and next time he goes AND brings you

- absolute power move, suck my ass bethany

BONUS FIRST KISS HYPOTHETICALS:

- happens very organically, both of you don’t even register it until it hits

- both of you are like fuck!!

- he’s like are you okay with it?

- and you’re like yeah 200% but are you okay with it?

- he’s like yeah of course

- and both of you say yeah and nod to each other back and forth until you take the initiative and pull him in again

- lowkey making out in the elevator

- your hands are all up in his hair and *wow this is exhilarating*, like his heart is full to burst

- and when he comes home his daughter’s like are you ok? your hair’s kinda messed up and stuff

- he’s like yeah it looked like this when i left

- she looks at him funny, like it definitely did not

- he’s just at a complete loss for words he’s trying to hide your lip gloss smeared on his face and his head is a lil woozy

- and he just gestures for a minute

- flails his arms weakly

- “yeah... uh... it’s, uh... wind.”

[floralcalaveraa]

MEET THE MUSE

Rules: Answer in-character. Repost, don’t reblog.

► NAME ➭ He waves around proudly at the imaginary crowd his mind conjured, assuming a performance that one would put up when live on camera for an interview. Typical Guzma, thinking that he is all that, but he is not. “Hey y’all~” He says with a chipper, sing-song voice to continue convincing ... the dashboard? “Clean the wax outta yur ears; I’m only gonna say this once and I expect chu to say the WHOLE fucking thing when you call me. It’s Guzma Kehlani Kaliko- I’m joking.” The emotion in his performance stops abruptly at the end and he acts like normal again. But then again ... when was he ever normal? His voice is modest now. “Just keep it up to Guzma.”

► ARE YOU SINGLE? ➭ Guzma doesn’t hold back on widening his eyes upon registering the question and emphasizes the reality of his words when he curls a curl on his finger and bats his eyes, pretending a coy nature. “Yeah~ So if anyone out there single too and you want a good sex, come on down; my number is-” And then a convenient beep censors the sound of his voice because Guzma is doing too much.

► ARE YOU HAPPY? ➭ “Hmm, I’m aight right now. Is not like ... I’m going through anythin ...” He asks himself, looking at the sky for an answer. “Or am I?”

► ARE YOU ANGRY?  ➭ “Who isn’t? I know I am. Like, when’s a rich white guy gonna give me all his money ya know? Those fucking billionaires don’t know how to spend it, like, give me your money I’ll show you.”

► ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED? ➭ All that talk from earlier? That magic disappears. Guzma falls silent for a moment, but tries to salvage his enthusiasm from earlier. “Weeeeeeeeeeeell ... they never married to begin with? Yeah, very telling of their relationship, ya know?” ‘I don’t want them to ever marry. That is not love, I wouldn’t attend to it should it ever happen.’

NINE FACTS!

► ‘BIRTH’ PLACE ➭ “In. This. Stupid. Region. Called. ALOLA!” Each word came with a jumping stomp to the ground, like if this tantrum would make the region he chanted out loud crumble in his stomps.

► HAIR COLOR ➭ He grabs a strand of his hair, stretches it out, and watches it recoil back to its original curly condition, feeling a bit shy to divulge. “It’s ... it was my daddy’s hair color. I didn’t like that. So I colored it to look like my mami’s ...”

► EYE COLOR ➭ “A stupid fucking grey. Can you believe that? Not even the universe wants me to own anythin’ gold like damn give me a fucking break.”

► BIRTHDAY ➭ “...” He remains silent, connecting the dots about this scheming universe. “Y’know, this life really doesn’t want me to be first in anything; July 2nd.”

► MOOD ➭ “Now that I made that realization, I’m feelin’ pissed.” Guzma says with a relative ‘ :-) ’ expression and relaxed voice.

► GENDER ➭ “A guy, wish I was a God though or somethin ...” A hand grabs his chin lightly, but pensively. “Or a bug ...”

► SUMMER OR WINTER ➭ “OOOh summer’s are sexy! Ya feel me?”

► MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➭ “I know I’m gonna sound like a cheesy old white lady but like, watching the sunset be kinda romantic tho-”

ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE!

► ARE YOU IN LOVE? ➭ “I either hate or love the people in my life. Never in between-”

► DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? ➭ “Oh that’s fucking cute, yeah. It only exists to the right people though, not bitches like me.”

► WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP? ➭ Who ended his confidence? This question. It’s going to make him mention Her name. Her. And that scares him. Madam Prez. He sinks into his chair in shame. “I ... I’m the one that messes up.”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART? ➭ “Yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker~” But his pride ends when he is left at the thought of the  loneliness that comes after break-ups.

► ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS? ➭ “... Yeah.” It is brief, in fear that entertaining it more would make him reveal the reasons why. After all, he wouldn’t want to bad-mouth Lusamine, no matter how vile she was to traumatize love for him.

► HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➭ “No because then they’ll smell my b.o ya know?”

► HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER? ➭ “Not that I know of ... I don’t know-”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➭ “I guess ... I know that there were times I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying ‘I love you’ to someone ...”

CHOICES!

► LOVE OR LUST ➭ “Lust hell yeah 😎” Love.

► LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➭ “I don’t give a fuck I just crave a refreshing drink right now; all this talking and answerin’ invasive, personal, intimate, scar-opening questions to a complete stranger has my throat all dried up like yo sex life.” Giving drawn out answers does nothing to help.

► A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➭ “I have my stinky siblings at Po Town. Sure they can be annoyin’ as fuck eatin’ my food, wasting water, stanking up the bathroom, wasting money, leaving the house messy, and all that, but I wouldn’t want them any other way.”

► WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➭ “Aw c’mon! Both are sexy! ... Aight, the one that will end with me gettin’ laid- ...” He sighs. “Aight, the one that would get me to know my companion better.”

► DAY OR NIGHT ➭ “I like to feel dramatic in the night. Like, ‘staring out from the window, musing about yo regrets and desires while seeing nobody but chu outside thinking about yo life’ kind of dramatic.”

HAVE YOU EVERS!

► BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➭ “Apparently not cuz my parent’s ain’t find me yet haha!”

► FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➭ “’Falling up the stairs’ sounds like some Loony Toons shit if I’m honest- Just imagine, you falling down the stairs, but then rewind it to make it look like you fell upward. Lol.”

► WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ➭ A hand grabs at his chest, at his heart, as he yells at the top of his lungs, “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING MONEY!!” Stability. Love. Healing. Those he had to let go in fear of having them punished by Lusamine. Honor. Respect. Freedom. And in truth, money, to support his family.

PREFERENCES!

► SMILE OR EYES ➭ “Oh I love both; a smile in someone that doesn’t do it often though. And eyes, those that are gold, blue, or green are pretty ...”

► SHORTER OR TALLER ➭ “Ain’t nobody gonna beat me and my 6′9″ ass. ‘Sides, I love my shorties anyways.”

► INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➭ “Attraction. Not askin’ anyone to be smart in order for me to like chu-”

► HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➭ “I only get casual hook-ups, night-stands ... C’mon, just look at me-”

FAMILY!

► DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➭ “Talkin’ bout the one in Po Town? Yup.” He nods proudly, not acknowledging his biological one.

► WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➭ “Baby, I got a fucked up life-”

► HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➭ “Yeah. Best decision I ever made or else I wouldn’t find the real family I have now.”

► HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➭ “I kicked my own ass out before my daddy did.”

FRIENDS!

► DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➭ “Ooh that Plumeria, I can’t stand her! Her big butt be hogging up the whole sofa when we watchin’ t.v! Do you understand how irritatin’ that is?!” Seconds after this ‘wrath’, he bursts into laughter.

► DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➭ “No because they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, sexy friends.”

► WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➭ “Oh come on don’t make me pick n choose- Plumeria and Gemali (his Golisopod) has been my longest, how about that?”

► WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➭ “Oooo it’s just me, myself, and I baby- Ain’t nobody gonna understand my twisted mind better than I.” Can be deciphered by Plumeria or Lusamine.

tagged by: @obliviouskind​ wrow cryus, having a spot for love .. u know cyrus if u say josefina’s name 3 times she will appear easy as that

tagging: @maxskulline​ , @akuromatico​ , @kyohansha​ (me🤝erik: making you do this twice. BUT OKAY SRSLY U DONT HAVE TO ONLY IF U WANT-) , @unovasgambler​ , @theprxfessorpair​ (hemlock!) , @draconscious​ , @littlesilverplatinum​​  (me🤝myself, hand-gripping my other hand: making you Erik do this twice.)

[vannahfanfics]

Into the Light

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia Kuchiki

Additional Tags: Feudal Japan AU

The starlight caught on Rukia’s strands of hair, making them glimmer like threads of obsidian as she strolled along the perimeter of the stone wall surrounding the lofty Kurosaki estate. Her armor lightly chinked as she adjusted it over her bandage-wrapped bust; despite her best efforts to secure gear suited to her petite frame, the chest plate provided no room for her endowments. For once in her life, Rukia was grateful that she wasn’t as bequeathed as most young ladies her age; she’d barely be able to breathe in the damn thing. Worse, she certainly couldn’t have masqueraded as a male for as long as she had. She’d already suffered too many close calls; thank the gods for the overwhelming stupidity of men. 

It had been two months since Rukia had fled her adoptive brother’s estate, reproaching an arranged marriage to a man ten years her senior. She’d tracked a course across Japan, traveling by night and using the local skirmishes between warlords to hop borders, until she’d arrived in a relatively calm countryside controlled by a daimyo known as Isshin Kurosaki. The gentle and amiable man garnered high esteem from his subjects due to his generosity and fairness; yet, he ruled his borders with an iron fist, quietly quashing all opposition. Rukia found it both admirable and terrifying. However, it gave her hope that she could remain undiscovered in this place for quite some time.

The compound’s perimeter was quiet, as usual. Rukia quickened her pace when the dull orange light of the flickering braziers came into view, eager to retire so she could finally catch a bath. Rukia could only bathe in the deep of night when most of the men of the estate slept. She found herself eagerly anticipating her frequent ritual, as it was one of the rare times she could strip free of the suffocating armor and bindings to relax. As she trotted around the bend to the iron-reinforced wooden gate to the estate, a serene smile graced her face. 

“What’s that look for?” her replacement huffed; she wasn’t sure if it was amusement or disdain, but to keep the peace, Rukia elected to proceed as if it were the former. She stopped in front of him, bowing respectfully to the senior officer, and looked at him with bright indigo eyes. 

“No, sir. It is just a lovely night for a patrol.” She laughed awkwardly and rubbed her neck as she admitted, “But, I would like to get to bed. I don’t know how you can volunteer for all these late-night shifts, sir!” It seemed her assumption of his gentility proved correct; he laughed heartily and clapped her on the shoulder. She planted her feet as his meaty hand jostled her back and forth. 

“I would expect more energy from a young sprout such as yourself, Rasa!” That was the name she gave upon coming to the compound; “Rukia” didn’t exactly inspire masculinity. “Although, you do work hard throughout the day, so it’s no wonder you’re tuckered out by this time of the evening.” Rukia was grateful the red-orange light hid the blush rising to her cheeks. She appreciated the acknowledgment of her efforts. She had been berated for her small stature until then, but several months of hard work and a fiery temper had warmed the estate’s samurai up to her a degree or two. The older man rested a hand on the hilts of his katanas as he began meandering down the path circling the compound. “Rest well, young one! You never know what the dark of the night can bring…” he called cryptically, pausing to watch a thick, gray cloud drift over the full moon to eclipse its light. 

Rukia blinked slowly and craned her head back to watch the cloud float over the white disc. When she finally glanced back down, the samurai had already vanished around the corner. 

Rukia unabashedly moaned aloud as she sank into the estate’s small hot spring’s steaming waters. The collection of heated pools coalesced on a rocky bluff marking the complex’s lateral border, which climbed over sixty feet high. The edge of the house peeked over the peak of a sloping hill, allowing Rukia to keep an eye out if anyone decided to venture out for a late-night soak and catch her unawares. With one final glance at the house, she sunk to her chin into the spring to enjoy the tension melting from her muscles. 

Her eyes drifted shut after a few minutes as she eased into a rare moment of tranquility. The bubbling of the springs, the lapping of the water against the slick sandstone rocks, the singing of the crickets, and the wind in the trees graced her ears to fill them with a peaceful symphony. The cool night air kissed her face, making her lips curl into a smile at the pleasant contrast. Under the water, she rolled her shoulders to further ease the slowly-unknotting kinks in her trapezii. She then reclined back against the water-smoothed stone. A sigh of contentment breezed past her lips. So absorbed in her relaxation, she didn’t register the clanging steel and the angry shouting until she heard the door to the side of the house slam open. 

“Damn it!” The man’s cursed floated down the hill. Rukia suddenly surged up from the spring to fumble for her katana by the bank, the cold air blasting her pink, heated skin as she scrambled about. She snatched up the sword and ripped it from the scabbard, then retreated up against the bluff to hide in the water between a pair of large, round boulders. Rukia would much rather charge up the hill to join the ensuing skirmish, but she sure as hell couldn’t do it stark-naked. Her only hope was that no one wandered down the slope to discover her wedged between the rocks with only her katana and her agility to defend her. 

What’s happening? Her mind whirled a hundred miles per second. Had an invasion party somehow broken through the border fifty miles away without them knowing? No, that was impossible; they’d have sent a message to Lord Kurosaki without fail. What could have happened?

Rukia sucked in a gasp as the sound of footsteps thundered down the hill; based on the quality, three bodies were currently trundling towards her. Rukia crouched down in the water, hoping the shadows would be enough to conceal her small form. Then, she remembered her armor neatly draped across the flat rock beside the hot springs, and her heart leaped up into her throat. 

“Bah. It’s just some dumb hot springs,” the wheedling, nasally whine of a man echoed across the springs. She could hear armor clanking as he shuffled around the bank. Please turn around. Please turn around, she prayed. Her heart dropped from her throat to the pit of her belly when she heard a sharp whistle and the unmistakable sound of the tip of a katana scouring across an armored chest plate. 

“Well, well, well. Looks like we have a little mouse scurrying about,” sneered another voice, deeper and edged with malice. Rukia jumped as someone out of her field of vision kicked her scabbard into the spring. She watched with wide blue eyes as the leather sheath sunk to the bottom. 

“Come out, come out! We just want to play.” Rukia shuddered as the harsh scraping of steel echoed around the springs when the three men drew their swords. She still had the advantage of mild surprise and could charge them- but could she surprise them enough to kill all of them in seconds? Most likely not; if these men were bold enough to attack a samurai estate in the middle of the night, they were likely battle-seasoned veterans. A shiver gripped Rukia’s body as she struggled to come up with a viable plan. 

“Where are you hiding, little mouse?” The men continued to jeer, walking into Rukia’s line of sight at last as she hollered and chortled scathingly. Her heart sunk further, feeling like it plummeted into the soles of her feet. The men sported bulky frames and, worse, the Kuchiki family crest. They found me after all…! “Rukia-chaaaaaaaan,” one finally cooed, stomping to the bank to kick the top of the water. Droplets splashed across the surface and into Rukia’s midnight-colored hair. “It’s best if you come out now. Lord Byakuya will be pissed if we come back with ya missin’ a limb or two.” Rukia meekly pressed back into the rocks a few more inches until its rough surface began to imprint into her skin. “Don’t make me come and drag you out, you ungrateful little bitch!” 

“Boss, boss,” another sighed magnanimously and pointed at her armor. “She’s just embarrassed. Girl don’t have any clothes on.”

Even from the considerable distance, Rukia could clearly see the malicious and lecherous glint that chipped their eyes. 

“Ohhhhh,” the leader cooed darkly. “How unfortunate… Little Miss Rukia will have to walk the whole way back home with no clothes. But that’s all right- I could think of a few ways to warm her up.” The men burst into evil laughter while Rukia whimpered. This was not how it was supposed to go. Rukia was supposed to run away and become a strong samurai. Yet here she was, cowering in a crevice praying for a savior. She squeezed her eyes shut, compressing her watery tears to force them out. They rolled down her cheeks to drop down into the water sloshing around her shaking form. 

Please…! I don’t want to go back! 

The men’s gruff cackles ceased with the singing of steel, the crunching of metal, and a high-pitched yelp fading into a grotesque gurgle. Rukia’s indigo eyes snapped open just in time to see one of the men splash into the hot spring, blood spurting from his severed carotids and jugular. The red stain began to flood through the steaming water as his form descended the few feet to the rocky bottom. In his place stood an orange-haired individual, scowling as he brandished a bloody katana at the other two samurai, who wore identical expressions of shock. 

“All right, you bastards,” Ichigo Kurosaki snarled, “either you hightail it outta here with the rest of your pathetic rabble, or you join your friend there.” While most sensible men would have gratefully taken the offered chance and fled, Kuchiki men were prideful to a fault; with ear-splitting roars, the two samurai charged and slashed at Ichigo. The young Kurosaki easily side-stepped the first blade to parry it, simultaneously grabbing the other man’s wrist to drive his katana through the first attacker’s belly. As the one enemy sucked in a breath and clutched at the sword in his stomach while the other spluttered apologies, Ichigo skirted around his back to slash down the length of his skull, splitting it open. They both fell into a heap at his feet, groaning and twitching and bleeding profusely. Ichigo crouched down, drawing his short knife from his hip, and quickly sent them to the afterlife. 

“Rasa.” Rukia flinched as he called her false name. The tall, lanky boy cleaned his katana and knife with a cloth before standing up and sheathing them both. The din of battle ceased with raucous victory yells, presumably from the Kurosaki samurai clan. Ichigo did not indulge in their revelry but instead peered critically into the shadows where she still hid. “Rasa,” he repeated. “Come out, you coward. You always bathe at this time of night; I know it’s you.” Rukia bristled at the insinuation, but she couldn’t blame him; it certainly looked like she was a craven right now. She was too absorbed in her whirling mind even to consider that Ichigo knew that intimate detail about her schedule. Instead of coming into the light, she called back. 

“I’m not a coward!” Fright raised her voice several octaves. She couldn’t give herself away, not after this. The Kuchikis had attacked the compound; she could be accused of being a spy and forced to commit seppuku! Ripples coursed across the water as she began to quake. “I’m not… I didn’t… It’s not what you think,” she pleaded weakly. Ichigo watched the sloshing water through narrowed, hardened eyes. After a minute, she squeaked, “I can’t come out, Kurosaki-san…” 

“Why the hell not?” he demanded, stamping his feet. “You shy? I ain’t leavin’ until you give me an explanation, dammit!” Rukia bit down on her bottom lip. She wracked her brain for several seconds, trying to develop a plan, but to no avail. She had to resign herself to her fate, whatever it may be. She covered her exposed intimate areas with her hands, growing hot and red-faced as she suddenly felt all the more exposed. Gingerly, she eased out of her hiding place into the moonlight. “There you a- Oh. Ohhh.” 

The tangerine-haired boy gawked stupidly at her small, curvaceous form hidden partially by her hands. Her pinkened skin shone in the moonlight as she cast her embarrassed gaze down at the water, too mortified to meet his eye. Through her thick lashes, she could see the way he shuffled around on the shore, struggling with the epiphany thrust upon him. “I- dammit, you’re a-a-a girl- a girl, yeah, shit, that explains a lot, um… Shit! What’s your name? I know Rasa has to be a fake name. Shit! Nevermind that! Put some damn clothes on!” He suddenly turned around, covering his face with his forearm for good measure. She could see the dark red tinge on his ears even in the gloom as she finally looked up at him. “J-just let me know when you’ve got your underclothes on, okay?” 

“Y-yes!” she stammered, quickly splashing out of the hot springs to scramble to her clothes. She flung her silk kimono on over herself, fumbling with the sash as her fingers trembled. “Al-almost done!” she yelled after a few seconds. Finally, she secured the strap and turned around, smoothing the creases in her clothes and kinks in her hair. “I-I’m ready now! Thank you!” 

“Jeez,” Ichigo whined as he turned to face her, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks shone with a rosy hue as he regarded her with a mixture of weary and curiosity. “Your name?” he asked again, tiredly. Rukia hesitated, but when he demanded it with more bark, she complied. 

“R-Rukia!” She gulped, hoping he wouldn’t recognize it. 

“Rukia Kuchiki?” he pressed with an eyebrow raised in suspicion. Her eyes flickered down to his hand, but it did not yet sneak towards his sword’s hilt. 

“Yes,” she breathed. Better to admit the truth than be caught in yet another lie later. Ichigo continued to watch her guardedly. 

“Did you know?” 

“No! I swear it! I ran away from a marriage Byakuya arranged for me. He sent those thugs here to find me! I’m not a spy, Kurosaki-san, I swear it!” 

“Stop, stop, stop, stop,” he interrupted, holding up a hand in a “halt” motion while pressing his forehead tiredly into the other. “Too much. As long as you weren’t involved, I don’t care about your baggage.” Rukia had been flapping her arms wildly the entire ordeal; as he accepted her claims so readily, she dropped them to her sides with soft plap!s. 

“You believe me?”

“What reason do I have not to? If you had been with them, you would have been with them, not caught unawares in the bath. I doubt those losers are good actors,” he huffed disdainfully while nudging one of the dead samurai with a toe. Rukia sagged as relief washed over her body. Soon, however, doubt began to tense her muscles once more. 

“Are you going to tell Kurosaki-sama…?” 

“No.” She nearly fainted with how easily the refusal dropped from his tongue. He began picking up her armor, heading back up the hill while gesturing to follow. “The raid failed, and they don’t know you’re here, right? There’s no need for him to know yet. It will just make things difficult for you,” he explained as he marched up towards the house. Rukia scurried after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “However, things won’t be the same after this. From here on out, you’re my attendant. I’ll make sure everything is in order by tomorrow morning,” he said as he strolled up to the door leading to his bedroom. As he threw it open and casually tossed her armor down on the tatami mat floor, Rukia sputtered in indignance.

“I- what- why?” 

“Because,” Ichigo said as he whirled around, “if anyone else finds out, it won’t be good for you, will it? This way, you can keep your secret.” He seemed so serious that for a moment, she believed his motives were purely selfless. Then, he leaned against the frame of the door with a sneer. “Plus, Byakuya is a prick. I’d love to see him spin his wheels looking for you,” he cackled. Rukia made a slight face at his mischievousness. Then she sighed and bowed. 

“Thank you for this kindness. I will do my best as your attendant, Kurosaki-san.” 

“Ichigo,” he corrected with an uncomfortable look. “I’m not into all that politeness stuff. Just Ichigo is fine.” Rukia felt her cheeks warm, but she nodded, wanting to respect his wishes.

“All right… Ichigo.” 

“Good. I’ll bet the boys are gettin’ rowdy with the afterparty. Come on, Rasa,” he grinned and threw a big arm around her shoulders to corral her toward the hall, where raucous laughter was drifting in. “I’ll tell them all about how you killed three samurai naked as you came out the womb.” Rukia groaned and shoved her red face into the palms of her hands. She had a feeling that her life was going to become worse, not better, thanks to this meddling son of a feudal lord.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to  peruse my Table of Contents!

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) [2] | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 5.35k

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, allusion to abusive past relationships, PTSD mention

Summary: It’s possible Tom would have outgrown the crush, but after one night where feelings were confessed and tears were shed, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

A/N: This part is a flashback to the night Tom alludes to in part one (see summary above). This is just some exposition to explain their relationship and past. I also just want to say a huge thank you for such a great reaction to my writing so far. It’s something I used to be so passionate about and it feels lovely to get back into it :) Let me know your thoughts, or if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

part one || part two || part three

eighteen months ago

Tom and you are sat on the couch, tangled up in your favorite blanket with Iron Man 2 playing in the background. Zendaya is away on a family trip, so naturally you and Tom are spending the whole weekend watching your favorite movies and eating lots of takeout. It’s not too different from your usual time spent together, but it’s always nice to not feel like you’re bugging her. You’re about tell him the things you’ve learned in your psychology class this week, but instead he’s trying to get you to thumb wrestle him, determined to win. 

“Okay, you know what? You’re the one who wanted to watch this movie! The second one isn’t even my favorite and now you’re thumb wrestling me instead of even watching it,” you say exasperated, though the grin on your face shows you’re enjoying your time together all the same.

“Well, you’re the one that wanted to talk instead of watch so technically this is all your fault. I just want something to do while you tell me about… about, uh,” he pauses, long enough for you to tuck his thumb under yours.

“About arousal theory,” you finish, knowing he won’t remember what you’ve been trying to tell him the past five minutes.

“Oh, now all of a sudden I’m interested, continue,” he grins at you, putting his hand under his chin to (dramatically) show he’s averted his full attention to you.

“If you were paying attention, you would know that’s not at all what that means, Tommy,” you laugh, and face away from him to watch the movie.

“Well, if it was maybe then--” he’s cut off by your phone ringing and vibrating on the coffee table. 

The caller ID shows a picture of your friend George that lights up the screen. Since most people don’t opt for calling, especially in your friend group, you answer quickly. 

“Hello?” You question, nervous something’s wrong with him or another of your friends.

“Y/N!” He excitedly shouts in your ear, so much so that you have to take it away from your ear. At least now you know there’s nothing wrong but your bleeding eardrums.

“I tried calling Tom’s phone but it went straight to voicemail! I’ve got some exciting news and I figured he’s with you though, yeah?” He continues to shout over the noise on his side. 

“I’ll put you on speakerphone,” you reply and do just that, before you place it on the coffee table. 

“Is there a congratulations in order?” Tom asks, a knowing smile on his face. You look at Tom, confused as to what he is talking about.

“Hell yeah there is! She cried and I cried but she said yes! Her family is over right now but the whole gang is coming over for celebratory drinks later, are ya in?” George asks, and you quickly connect the dots.

“Wait, you proposed to Gwen?! And you didn’t tell me? And more importantly, you didn’t ask for my help?” You question in quick succession, because as resident hopeless romantic, you should really be the first one your friends come to for things like this. 

You then turn to Tom who’s chuckling at your excitement, and now you’re yelling at him, “but you knew? And didn’t tell me either?!” 

You chuck a pillow at him, which he dodges before laughing harder at. He ignores you and leans towards the phone to reply to George’s invitation.

“We’ll be there, George. Just text me the details, oh and tell Gwen she’s a div for saying yes,” Tom replies, laughing when George replies with a ‘sure thing!’ before hanging up. He’s so excited he didn’t even register Tom’s comment as a jab, or needing a comeback (which is especially amusing considering how quippy George usually is). 

Gwen and George are a few years older than the rest of your friend group, so you’re a little unsynchronized in your points in life but they’re close friends with you all nonetheless. They have been going out since before anyone in your group has known them. They’re high school sweethearts, best friends, lovers and everything in between. They’ve been through so much in all their time together. They had been told they would never last for the first four years of their relationship. When they ended up on opposite coasts since George left to a startup business and Gwen stayed home to go to culinary school, they were told that one of them would cheat if they didn’t get bored of the distance and each other before then. When they ended up on the same coast in recent years, people assumed Gwen wouldn’t want to stay with him as he wasn’t making much money and had yet to pop the question. Neither Gwen or George paid any mind to any opinions or judgements and were happy taking their time. They were secure with where they were at and whether a shiny ring on her finger and piece of paper happened tomorrow or years in the future, it didn’t matter to either of them when it happened when they knew how they felt.

Now two years later, George’s business has taken off, they live upstate in a nice apartment with their sweet little French bulldog and they’re stable enough to plan the big, romantic wedding they both want. It’s heartwarming every time either of them tells you about their story, or talks about each other at all. Which is why you’re pissed you’re only finding out now. 

“I cannot believe you didn’t even tell me,” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest with your eyes trained on the TV, “you’re shit at keeping secrets, but this one you decide to not tell me.”

“You’re just jealous that he came to me advice rather than you,” he grins, laying his head in your lap to look up at you.

“Well yeah! You’re not even into all that lovey-dovey, romantic stuff, I am. When you dated that girl last year you couldn’t even think of a gift to give her for Christmas, I had to pick one out. And Harry said you never even said ‘I love you’ to any of your girlfriends growing up and I’ve never heard you say that either.” you pout at the TV, despite not paying attention because it’s just your excuse to not look down at him.

Except that he is into all that lovey-dovey stuff. Or at least he has been since he met you. It’s cheesy, but it’s like you’ve lent him the rose-colored glasses you see the world through and he’s eternally grateful for it. Of course, it helps that he’s in love with you and watching you admire romance and the idea of a fairytale ending is enough to make anyone fall just as hard as he has. But all of that is just too heavy considering you’ve only recently returned to your usual self. Tom can’t be selfish and risk hurting you when you’ve only just begun to heal from your shitty ex-boyfriend. What you need now is your friend and so instead of any declaration of love, he jokes with you. 

“Guess the ladies love me because I love hard enough in other ways,” he says, winking at you.

“I live across the hall, so I know definitely not hard enough, Holland” you retort back, grabbing the last pillow on the couch to throw at his face. 

--

The both of you are in Tom’s car, on the way to Gwen and George’s apartment. The setting sun streams through the passing trees, while Tom’s playlist (the one full of all the songs you like, that he’ll always deny was made specifically for you) plays throughout the car. 

Tom glances at you as you lean your head against the window. You’ve been silent the whole car ride. Not singing along to your favorite song or blabbering about the romance of the engagement, which is unbelievably out of character. He turns down the volume on the stereo so it’s quiet enough to hear the wind whip against the car.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions, sneaking a glance at you before returning his eyes to the road, pulling onto their street.

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, making him think you didn’t hear him. He pulls into a parking spot, thankful for not having to parallel park, and is about to repeat the question when you finally reply.

“Nothing important.” You say and of course Tom doesn’t believe it. Before he can question the honesty of your reply, you’re opening the passenger door and beginning to walk up to their apartment. 

Tom takes the keys out of the ignition and exits the car, quick to catch up to you. It's colder upstate, allowing the snow to form a thick blanket on the ground. It’s fresh and fluffy, effectively dampening all ambient sound outside. While he really wants to ask you again, he can tell you’re not ready to talk yet so he stays silent on the walk up to the apartment building as well as the elevator ride up.

You reach to knock on the door, greeted immediately by George. 

“Hey guys! I’m glad you could make it,” he smiles, practically beaming. They’ve both always known it was in the cards for them to get engaged and of course married, but damn if he wasn’t ecstatic about it finally happening.

“Gwen’s in the living room, on her fourth glass of champagne so naturally she’s already started her own acapella concert in there,” he tells you, looking absolutely smitten just thinking about his future bride, even as a drunk, goofy mess.

“Oh, and Jacob brought some celebratory cigars and since you were such a huge part in helping me plan this, I’d love if you’d join me for one,” George offers Tom.

Tom looks towards you, not wanting to leave when your mood seems off like this. He doesn’t want to flat out say no to George, but you can tell this is his silent way of asking.

“You can go, I’m gonna go see Gwen. I hate the smell of them anyways,” you reassure him with a smile and congratulate George before walking through the apartment to find her.

Gwen is surrounded by people talking to her and congratulating her but as soon as she sees you, she comes running.

“Y/N! Hi! I’m engaged!” She shouts despite the music not being at a loud volume, champagne in one hand and flashing the other with the ring on it at you.

“I know you did, that’s why I came,” you reply with a smile, leaning in to greet your tipsy friend with a hug.

For a while you’re chatting with her and some other friends, not really as energetic as you would be but most people have been here longer than you and are already a little tipsy, so no one notices. You’re in the middle of half-listening to one of Gwen’s co-workers tell all of you about their upcoming trip to somewhere you don’t really care about, when a hand is placed on your back. 

“Do you mind if I steal Y/N away from you for a moment?” He asks and he’s behind you but you can just tell he’s got on a charming smile (but isn’t it always charming to you?)

All of the intoxicated girls grin at his English accent and endearing smile, nodding simultaneously and encouraging him to take you away. You think one may have even said ‘hell, you can take me!’, but regardless, Tom utters a thank you regardless. With his hand in yours, he leads you through the apartment and onto the balcony. The smell of cigar smoke lingers outside and the night air is chilling against your bare arms, having left your jacket inside.

“You brought me away from friends, free booze and the warmth of the indoors to… have me smell some cigar smoke?” You joke, arms hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm.

“You’re being weird,” he replies before sliding glass door shut, blocking out the music and talking from inside. 

“Excuse me?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “so you’re gonna force me to be cold, smell cigar smoke, and call me weird? I’m going inside then.”

“Okay I’m sorry for saying you’re being weird,” he says quickly, “But, can you please sit down with me? You can even have my jacket,” he offers, and shrugs it off to hand to you.

You eye the jacket, then the table, before grabbing his coat and sitting down. Bundling yourself up in his warm jacket, the smoke scent lingers on his coat, but it's mixed with his familiar cologne and that’s enough to be comforting. 

“I just, I really love engagements and romance and I realize I haven’t really been excited for two of my closest friends when that’s all tonight is about. It’s just kind of weird behavior on my part and I wanted to talk to you about it,” Tom replies dramatically (the damned acting major).

You look down at the table because you know exactly what he’s doing. Really, it’s hard not to, he knows how stubborn you are and reads you better than anyone, so voices his concern this way. If he says something flat out, you don’t really have a chance to deny it.

“Oh, no wait. That’s you.” He finishes his sentence and pulls out the chair on the opposite side of the table to sit down in.

“Haha, that never gets old.” You reply sarcastically, running your fingers across the glass that covers the top of the table.

He places his hand atop of yours, stilling your movements. You look up to him, unblinking and expressionless. 

“Really, N/N what’s wrong? You were excited earlier and you’re practically the president of the Gwen/George fan club so if you don’t get excited, they’re going to find another leader.” He jokes but stops when you don’t smile.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, biting at your cheek. You’re trying your best to not rain on their parade, and no one notices but Tom. But if he keeps pushing, you’re not going to be able to hold your stupid emotions in. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he reprimands, squeezing your hand, “you know you can tell me anything.”

You look at the closed door and no one else is out here, or paying attention and Tom is your best friend, and maybe if you talk about it, you’ll be able to enjoy the party.

“Sometimes I just worry it will never happen for me,” you start, looking down at your hands, “getting married I mean. Or anything relatively close, like finding someone who loves me long enough to even stay more than a few months…”

“And I know I’m only 23, and they’re 28 so they’re at a different point in their life and they’ve been going out forever but..” you pause, and Tom doesn’t interrupt, just listens. 

“After what happened with him, I’m scared of ever trying again. More than that, I think I just feel like that maybe that’s the best I’ll ever get, or even deserve,” you finish, with tears welling up in your eyes, and you look away, out over the balcony. 

Tom gets up and you close your eyes, letting the tears fall because maybe he thinks you’re selfish for making this night about you somehow and he’s leaving. But instead, he pulls you up out of the chair and brings you to his chest and holds you tightly. You stay like that for a while, until the tears slow to a stop and your breathing has slowed to normal. 

“Why would you ever think that’s the best you’ll get?” he asks and you look up at him, expecting some sort of joke because there’s no way he’s serious. 

“Why wouldn’t I? I must deserve it in some regard after how deeply and unapologetically he hurt me. After all that happened and how long it went on for, it's hard not to think somehow, it’s my fault. I must have done something wrong.” The tears are welling in your eyes again, threatening to fall.

“You cannot seriously believe that,” He softly rubs his hands up and down your arms, “hey, look at me.”

He puts his hand under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. 

“Why would you ever think you deserve the kind of treatment he gave you?” He questions, and then repeats himself when you don’t answer, gingerly as though speaking too loud would scare you away.

“He wasn’t all bad,” you reply meekly, biting the inside of your cheek, “sometimes he--”

Tom cuts you off, “No, there’s no ‘sometimes’ for treating someone you’re supposed to love well, it’s not something you need to earn or something that’s rationed. He was a dick all the time, he just pretended not to be sometimes to manipulate you into staying.” 

Your heart throbs at the blunt veracity of his words. Deep, deep down, under everything that has happened, all of the trauma and damage done, you know it’s true. Internally you’ve just been at a constant tug of war, trying to rationalize all that happened. Was he in love with you at all? Did you do something to make him hurt you like he did? Could you have fixed him? Was he good under it all and just hurting? Did you imagine it all? Were you not good enough in the end, even for him? 

“Why manipulate me into staying if he was the one who ended up leaving in the end?” you question, and his own heart hurts at your words.

Tom’s not sure what to say because he saw your ex leave you and come back so many times. Saw how it slowly chipped away at you each time. When someone does that to you, time and time again, it takes away all your power. You feel helpless and like you can’t go on and the only thing you can do is wait for them to come back. While all of that makes Tom furious, and he wishes you were the one who dumped that asshole because he deserved it, he instead says what will best comfort you.

“Because he’s a blind idiot. But it’s probably the kindest thing he’s done your whole relationship,” he replies, before moving his hand from under your chin to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek, “and I know that sounds insensitive because you hurt for so long and you’re just getting over it, but it’s true.” 

“You’ll find someone who fulfills all of those fairytale expectations, because you shouldn't settle for less and you don’t have to. Someone who is kind, and cares for you, and appreciates everything you are and have to offer. I’m not saying it will take away all the hurt you have felt, but they will love you so deeply that you’ll wonder how you ever thought you deserved any less,” he promises, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

He wants to say he’s that someone, confess the way he felt about you since the very beginning but that’s not what you need now. Instead he gives you one last squeeze and brings you down inside, out of the cold. He’s gotten you to at least talk about it and that at least means you won’t hide yourself away, hurting and staying silent in an attempt to not burden anyone. Not that you could ever be a burden, not to Tom.

It hurts a little less when you have someone like Tom by your side. Maybe people look at you two and think he’s suffering from white knight syndrome, like you need to rescued because you’re a damsel in distress. Maybe they think you love him because he’s doing the saving and you love him for such a shallow reason. Except it’s not that, you’re just healing on your own with your best friend being there to support you and love you. It is deeper than a fleeting attraction because someone has helped you. This love is patient, kind and unwavering. As cheesy as it sounds, Tom is someone you fell for slowly, and then all at once. You went to bed one night thinking of him as your best friend and woke up the next with the thought crossing your mind while you were in the shower; ‘I love my best friend so much’ and by the time you were done rinsing away your shampoo, you realized ‘shit, I love him’.

After that it was all you could think of for weeks, noticing all the ways he cared for you. Something as simple as asking if you had gotten enough sleep last night or giving you the cherry from his drinks because you love them so much. The way he locks eyes with you in a boring lecture to make sure you’re awake, the way his hand immediately grabs yours in crowds. Picking up your favorite chips when he goes grocery shopping, just so he always has them in the cupboard for you even though he doesn’t like them. The way he doesn’t just tolerate the things you like, and he doesn’t but gets excited for them simply because he likes seeing you enjoy things. The two of you are the other’s first person to tell both good and bad news alike to. The two of you may fight but neither of you are too embarrassed to admit you’re in the wrong to the other. He makes mundane things like getting gas or going grocery shopping entertaining. While you should be scared of him leaving or being hurt again, you’ve trusted him for so long with matters regarding your heart, it only seems right that he’s the one you trust to hold your it and not harm it. But you don’t want him to think he’s a rebound from the man who’s broken your heart only months ago, because it is so much deeper than that. Your love for him is so much deeper than that. So, you keep quiet, loving him silently.

You both have fallen so deeply into each other, but both too worried about caring for the other to say anything and tonight isn’t any different. The rest of the night is spent celebrating your friends’ engagement: dancing and drinking the night away. The two of you exchange longing glances throughout the entire evening, scared to break the silence regarding your feelings.

—

Tom pulls into your own apartment complex, parking before glancing over at you. Your eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, high heels in your lap while you’re curled up in the passenger seat. Tom unbuckles, reaching his hand over to softly shake your shoulder in an attempt to wake you gently. You continue your slumber, unphased by his disturbance.

“Y/N,” he calls softly. You’re still sleeping soundly, and you look so peaceful that Tom can’t help but reach over and tuck your hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger there.

Out of all the ways you could wake up, this could very well be the creepiest way to, Tom thinks. His thought must have manifested it because your eyes flutter open slowly. While he thinks to withdraw his hand and pretend he wasn’t just thinking about how breathtaking his best friend is (and how in love with her he is), you instead lean into his hand.

“Mm, hello,” you mumble, blinking to adjust to the darkness of the car. The few streetlights lining the parking lot let in just enough light for you to see his lovely face. Tom hasn’t shut off the car yet so heat is still on and his (really, your) playlist continues playing at a low volume.

“We’re home,” he says gently, trying not to be too loud as you shake off the effects of sleep.

The words make you feel warm, hearing him say ‘home’, despite the fact that you’ve definitely referred to the general complex as ‘home’ before. Maybe it’s just the circumstances; him waking you up tenderly from a night spent out together, like you’re lovers and he’s waking you so you can go inside to the bed you both share.

“Oh, okay,” you reply, rubbing at your eyes despite the presence of makeup.

“Want me to carry you up?” He asks, innocently enough. Except that it just furthers that fantasy of being together: being carried up to your home together.

“I mean, because you’re tired and you’ve had a bit to drink everything,” he quickly adds, “and I know they’re the lace up ones and you hate doing them up.” He points to the heels in your lap.

Of course, he’s just being his usual sweet self. He’s heard you complain about these shoes enough and knows the only reason you wear them is because you say the way they look is worth the effort. But he also knows when you’re drunk and the shoes come off, you’re past the point of no return and you’ll only ever get less put together, not more. Because he remembers things like that.

The thudding in your chest quiets a little, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He turns off the car and gets out to walk around to your side. He opens the passenger door and grabs your shoes from you and allows you to wrap your hands around his neck. He adjusts his hold on you so he’s carrying you bridal style (great, that helps your romantic mindset) and you bury your face into his chest, telling yourself its only to shield your eyes from the change in lighting. He places you on the floor, since you’re safe from the slushy snow outside now. While he wishes he could have you in his arms the whole way up, there’s no reason for it and it would look strange since you’re just friends.

You walk barefoot beside him to the elevator, both of you silent on your way up. You’ve managed to make it home before 2 AM, but the hall and the whole complex is peacefully silent. When you reach your apartment, you both begin talking at the same time.

“I just wanted to say—”

“I hope you know—”

“Oh sorry, you go.”

“No, it’s okay, you go.”

You both laugh quietly as not to wake any of your neighbors, until Tom gestures for you to go ahead first.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For talking to me about everything tonight. And for not thinking I was absolutely awful to be thinking about myself during Gwen and George’s happy night,” you glance down at your bare feet, shy at tonight’s actions.

“You don’t have to apologize,” and he continues before you can interrupt, “you really don’t. I know you and so I know it wasn’t something you did out of selfishness.”

He reaches for your hand and holds it between you two, while the other reaches up to stroke your cheek, which you lean into again. It’s an intimate gesture he doesn’t usually do, but has managed twice tonight, and it feels like walking the line of friendship and lovers.

“You deserve so much better than anything he ever gave you, or anything anyone has ever given you. You deserve the world and I can’t believe you would ever think otherwise. I will always fight for your fairytale ending, even if you give up or think you don’t deserve it.”

Your heart swells and you want to thank him for all that he’s saying, but he only continues.

“I always want you to feel like you can talk to me, because I will always be here because I, I lo-“ he stops himself and your heart begins thudding again, because maybe he feels the same way you do.

“I-I look out for you. And you look out for me, right?” he finishes, his voice unsteady and you’re beyond disappointed.

You rest your hand atop the hand of his that cups your face.

Despite how nervous you feel, and how clammy your hands are getting and the thumping in your chest, you look into his eyes bravely and ask, “Tom, do you love me?”

“Of course I do, you’re my—”

“No. I am asking you; do you love me?”

When he doesn’t say yes, but he also doesn’t say no you decide to make the first move. You lean in to kiss him, but quickly his hands pull out of yours, pressing gently against your shoulders. Your brain goes into full panic mode: you cannot believe you misread the signals so badly, you cannot believe you tried to kiss your best friend. You turn away from him, fumbling with your keys and shoving the apartment key into the lock, shoving it in, scrambling to escape from this mess.

Tom certainly isn’t drunk since he had to drive home but the emotion bubbling inside of his chest is far more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol could be. He’s grasping at words, trying to try to express what he’s feeling right now but his thoughts are jumbled and clouded.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, walking to follow you into your apartment, desperate to explain himself.

Your turn around, pressing your hand against his chest, leaving it there for a moment, not meeting his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to hold your hands or assure you in any way, so you turn around to enter your apartment. You close the door softly and turn the lock, and maybe that’s scarier than you slamming the door in anger. You press your forehead to the door, eyes closed and attempting not to feel all that you are right now, as deeply as you are. You could not be more thankful for Zendaya’s family trip as she is unable to see the stupid attempt at an advance. She is not here to pretend that what you did wasn’t stupid, or that you didn’t make the biggest mistake.

You’re frustrated and annoyed that you’re hurting like this. You’re frustrated that you were stupid enough to think you’re not a broken mess, that you’re deserving of him, of love. Of course he doesn’t want anything more than friendship from you, he’s seen the train wreck that is your love life. Why would he willingly dive into that mess?  To soften the ache in your heart you tell yourself that it’s better this way, you tell yourself you haven’t felt this way for as long as you have, that it's just the alcohol and the influence of the romance of your friend’s engagement. You pretend that you don’t feign sleep on Saturday mornings to stay in his arms just a little bit longer. Those longing glances at him from across the room at parties or class don’t happen. Even more, the times where he catches you and smiles before joining you, and makes you laugh and nothing else matters doesn’t happen either. All those times he comforts you and says things that straddle that line of friendship, and you just so badly want to say something back or kiss him, those don’t happen either. You’re friends and that’s it. Friendship is safer, it won’t end in your heart broken, and a little bit of Tom in that way is better than all of him romantically. You’ll settle for loving him softly and quietly, like a friend would, and you ignore the way your chest hurts like you’ve just lost the love of your life as you fall asleep that night.

Tom is left outside of your door, stunned at all that has happened. You are hurt, alone and without your best friend and the fact that he is the cause of it is what hurts him the most. He may have had a few drinks (and barely slept that night), he remembers it vividly. He doesn’t for a moment question the authenticity of his memories when you pretend like nothing happened the next day. 

Taglist: @averyfosterthoughts @martinafigoli​

[stanathanxoox]

Baby Don’t Leave Me

gif is mine, photo is not

@drethanramsey-ismybabe​ asked: “Don't get all up in your head, take back the words you said, Don't risk all this when you know you love me” - Baby Don't Leave Me by Echosmith – Ethan Ramsey x MC

Your eyes glistened under the twinkling lights in the ballroom, decorated to perfection as you entered down the stairs accompanied by Bryce, one of your closest friends since day one at Edenbrook, as no one else had asked for you had to attend this evening. You couldn't help but let your jaw drop as you looked out at the decorations and the fancy ballgowns and suits the other residents, interns, nurses and attendings were all wearing, it was a lot to take in but you were grateful that you had these few moments to take it all in. Nerves were beginning to course through your veins as you looked up at the stage where the band was currently playing a couple of instrumental songs. A couple of weeks ago Naveen had come to you and asked if you would be interested in singing a song at the ball, Sienna had been with you at the time and had accepted it for you, and as soon as Naveen had left the room she had turned to you and said that it was the perfect opportunity for you to sing a song from the heart to try and capture the attention of a certain man who had been on your mind constantly since you had started at Edenbrook, even more so now that the two of you had slept together almost six months ago. You didn't have long to prepare yourself before you were being ushered up to the side of the stage

“Do you have a song?” one of the stage managers asks and you nod, holding out the sheet music that you and Sienna had managed to find a couple of days ago when you had decided on a song. You were looking out at the crowd gathered, searching for Sienna's warm and bubbly face, knowing that she would get you through this, and she gives you a massive thumbs up when she sees you looking, Bryce is beside her and you give them a nervous smile.

Your making your way up the stairs onto the stage when you look out at the audience, and you almost trip over your skirt on your ballgown. Taking a calming breath, you continue the walk over to the microphone. You turn to look at the band members behind you before you give a slight nod, the gentle keys coming from the piano are your introduction to the song before you start singing

You're so funny when you're mad And trying not to laugh You flip your switch got pissed off at nothing

We got caught up in the crowd The gifts are drowning out the lights The fight, it all turns to nothing

We're on the edge of heartbreak and real love I need to see, need to see what we're made of Don't you give up, don't give up, cause we're so close Don't wanna lose it all

Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me all alone on Christmas night Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me all alone on Christmas night

You look out at the crowd, eyes flickering throughout the crowd as you search for the person this song is being sent out to and when you find those beautiful blue eyes, your voice catches in your throat, before you shake yourself and you continue singing. He's watching you, intently, a small smile on his face and you give him a small smile before you continue, feeling hopeful that something might come out of this night.

Don't get all up in your head Take back the words you said Don't risk all this when you know you love me Dance with me around the dream Make me steal a kiss or three 'Cause this is life and it feels amazing

We're on the edge of heartbreak and real love I need to see, need to see what we're made of Don't you give up, don't give up, cause we're so close Don't wanna lose it all

Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me all alone on Christmas night Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me all alone on Christmas night

We can make it work, the broken parts And put them back together We can wish under a million stars Don't worry about the weather

Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me all alone on Christmas night Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me all alone on Christmas night Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me Baby, don't leave me all alone on Christmas night

  As the final bars of the song played throughout the ballroom, you can hear the applause that is aimed at you but your so lost in Ethan that you barely even register anything else. You make your way down off the stage, and feel a pair of arms wrap themselves around your waist and the breath escaping your lungs, and you break eye contact with Ethan to find Sienna has you enveloped in a tight hug.

“That was beautiful Y/N, I think it worked” she murmurs against your ear and you smile

“Thank you for making me do this” you say and she smiles

“Anything for young love” she says and you chuckle, shaking your head. Bryce is about to say something when he looks over your shoulder and gives a slight nod, before he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze, leaning into whisper in your ear

“Merry Christmas Y/N”, and with that, he's gone. You stand there puzzled for a couple of seconds before you hear some clearing their throat and when you turn around you see those beautiful blue eyes staring at you

“You look breathtaking Y/N” he whispers as he takes a step closer.

“Thank you Ethan” you say and he smiles, before holding his arm out for you to take. You accept, thinking that he's leading you towards the dance floor but as he leads you out to one of the corridors leading off the ballroom, you raise an eyebrow

“What are we doing out here?” you ask, curiosity coursing through your veins. You're shocked when you feel his hands cupping your cheeks and pulling you closer to him, as his lips crush against your own, its soft and sensual, he's overtaking your senses and you let him, this was what you had been wanting for such a long time now, that letting yourself get lost in this moment was something that you could deal with when he came to breaking your heart later on.

“Ethan...” you breath when the kiss is broken and he leans his forehead against yours as he whispers

“I'm such an idiot for fighting us, Y/N and if that makes me stupid then so be it. It's taken me this long to realise that I never want to let you go again” your jaw drops at his words and you're stunned

“Your not an idiot” you whisper and he lets out a self-deprecating laugh

“Yes I am, I never should've let you go” he says and you reach out, cupping his cheeks

“I've always been your Ethan, I'm not going anywhere” you promise and he nods, before gently kissing you again.

“Will you come home with me tonight?” he asks and you smile

“Tonight and every night I'm welcome Ethan” you whisper and he beams, lacing his fingers through your own before he leads you back out to the ballroom.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej-deactivated20191209​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @captainxmikaelson​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​

Tag List for Pixelberry fics: @cordoniaqueensworld​, @aworldoffandoms​, @desiree-0816​

Tag List for Open Heart: @melissagoodwill​, @lady-kato​, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​, @cxld-play​

[cycwrites]

Switching Gears Part 3 - Karaoke Innuendos

Words: 4250

Rating: M (Eventually. I think.)

Also on AO3 and FFN

Tumblr Master Post

As always, thanks to @tiny-maus-boots for all the Beta’ing and support. I literally could do none of this without you.

Special thanks to @zentamaus & @isthemusictoblame for putting up with my random bouts of insecurity in the middle of the night.

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

~A~

Aubrey pushed her bike through the door to Beca’s shop, grumbling to herself.

“Chain or bell?”

The amusement in Beca’s voice was clear and Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I could just be coming to say hello.”

“True.” Beca nodded from where she was leaning against the counter in the back. “But you look pissed and it’s been over two weeks since you needed a chain – so my guess is bell.” She made a show of peering at Aubrey’s handlebars as she got close and nodded. “Looks like I’d be right.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Aubrey parked the bike beside the counter and huffed out a breath as she took off her helmet and hung it from a handle. “Fine. Bell.”

“I’m going to start ordering them in bulk at this rate.” Beca pushed herself up on the counter and pulled up her legs to swing around and land behind it. She rummaged on a shelf for a second before pulling out a new bell and setting it between them. “Or you could just… stop replacing it?”

“And let her win?” Aubrey snorted. “I don’t think so.”

“And what… exactly… would she be winning?” Beca leaned her elbow on the counter and propped her chin on her hand. “Is there a prize?”

“The war, Beca.” Aubrey shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh I understand,” Beca said as she straightened up again. “I understand you’re both insane and I haven’t even met the other woman.” Beca frowned and Aubrey returned it reflexively. “Have you even laid eyes on her since that first day?”

“No.” Aubrey dug her thin card holder from its place in her bra. “But I don’t need to. She keeps parking in my spot.”

“You’re hopeless.” Beca pushed away the debit card Aubrey tried to hand her. “And while the businesswoman in me says to take your money, your friend can’t do it anymore.” She grabbed the bell and walked around it to Aubrey’s bike. “Except the chain and lock. If you insist on throwing the nice ones away, I’m going to charge you for it.” She stripped the bell of its packaging as she walked. “I should order you some cheap pieces of crap I wouldn’t normally sully my shelves with so you can stop losing your main.”

Aubrey watched as Beca quickly affixed the bell in just the right spot. “Thanks, Beca.” She knew it was silly and probably (definitely) childish – and let’s not forget petty – but the fact that the woman kept parking in her spot triggered Aubrey in a way she couldn’t explain.

“You’ll just have to buy me an extra drink at karaoke.” Beca gave the bell a ring and winced. “I still have no idea why you like this thing.”

“My dad got me one as a kid.” Aubrey shrugged. “When I finally rode it without the training wheels, he put it on so I could warn people.” She smiled at the memory. “I may have almost run over the neighbor’s yappy dog once because I was a speed demon.”

“Alright, I can get behind nostalgia and that explains spin class.” Beca frowned as she looked around the shop. “Is Lilly even in today?” Before Aubrey could answer Beca shrugged. “Eh, I’m the owner; I can close a little early if I want to.” She looked at Aubrey. “Can you turn off the open sign and lock the door while I count down the register and lock away the moolah?”

“No one but mobsters say moolah, Beca.” Aubrey laughed as she walked toward the front of the room.

“Oh yeah? Know a lot of mobsters, do you?” Beca said as she popped open the cash drawer. “Is there a secret life of yours I don’t know about?”

“Maybe.” Aubrey turned off the sign and double checked that no one was walking up before she locked the door. Beca snorted behind her. “You don’t know. Besides, I would rock a three piece suit.” She walked back toward Beca who had paused, eyeing her.

“I was going to make a sarcastic comment but sheer honesty forces me to admit you would in fact rock a three piece suit.” Beca’s head tilted to the side. “Would that make me your driver?”

“Thank you.” Aubrey said crisply then grinned. “Probably my right hand gal.” Aubrey leaned on the counter. “Jack of all trades type.”

“I dig it.” Beca grabbed a calculator and a notepad. “You need a moll.”

“I do?” Aubrey considered. “I suppose every good mobster should a pretty woman with brains on their arm.” One brow arched. “Are you volunteering?”

“Please. I’m much better as your jack of all trades.” Beca shook her head. “I was more thinking Chloe.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I should’ve seen that coming. I’ve told you, that ship has sailed.”

“Then the only other woman I’ve seen you get remotely flustered over is the enemy.” Beca began to count the money in her till. “Now shut up and don’t start saying numbers like you did last time.”

“Me?” Aubrey blinked innocently. “I would never. Also, there’s no way the bell thief could be my girl.”

“Mmhmm. Seems to me a thief would be a perfect girl for a mobster.” Beca said, writing down totals. “But whatever you say, Aubrey. I might even believe you if you didn’t get red cheeked whenever you talk about her.”

Aubrey gasped. “I do not!” She rubbed at her cheeks before she realized what she was doing. “That’s anger, Beca. Not… whatever you’re implying.”

Beca looked at Aubrey out of the corner of her eye. “You do realize that every denial you give me only makes me think I’m right and you’ve got a serious crush on your nemesis despite only seeing her the one time.”

“Then you’re clearly deluded.” Aubrey pushed off the counter and walked down one of the aisles.

“Clearly,” Beca muttered behind her. “Now stop distracting me.”

“Then stop baiting me.” Aubrey shot back.

They spent the next ten minutes in companionable silence as Beca checked her numbers twice before finally putting the money in a lockable pouch which then went in her safe.  Aubrey wheeled her bike to the front of the store and waited.

“Alright.” Beca turned off the lights. “Time to go.” She waved Aubrey out the door before setting her security system. “No peeking.”

“Like I couldn’t figure out your code if I really wanted to.” Aubrey pulled on her helmet.

Beca locked the door behind her. “Alright, let’s go channel some of that anger elsewhere and go get you hopped up on your Ladies of the 80’s.”

“I’ll have you know I also enjoy songs from the 90’s.” Aubrey swung her leg over her bike.

“That’s still nothing from this century.” Beca said, pulling on her own helmet.

“Shut up and get on the package carrier, hobbit. Or do you need me to lift you up?” Aubrey said dryly.

“You’re going to pay for that, Posen.” Beca climbed onto the back of Aubrey’s bike and gripped her waist. “Just you wait.”

“My father is military, Beca. I’ll always see you comin’.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Beca patted her hip. “Now mush!”

“Did you just call me a bitch?” Aubrey said as she began to pedal down the sidewalk with Beca’s laughter filling the early evening air behind them.

The ride to the L&L was relatively short, only a mile and a half away from Beca’s shop. Lyrics & Libations was a karaoke bar owned by two of Beca’s friends who had, eventually, adopted Aubrey as one of their own. Beca had dragged her in the second she found out Aubrey could sing and the two of them had a standing table reservation every Friday night.

Once Aubrey had stopped her bike, Beca hopped off the back and took off her helmet. She ran her hand through her hair. “I hate these things.”

“Helmet hair is a small price to pay for keeping your brains inside your skull, Beca.” Aubrey walked over to an afterthought bike rack that had been added to the sidewalk and secured her bike to it. Though it was big enough for three bikes, Aubrey had never seen anyone else use it.

“It’s not just that. It makes my head sweaty.” Beca preceded her to the door and opened it. “Especially on warm days like today.”

“Thank you,” Aubrey said, taking off her own helmet as she walked into the L&L. Beca had a point, the cool air conditioning felt good after all the pedaling. “Hello Cynthia Rose.” She hugged the beautiful black woman lounging on the stool by the door. “Had to throw anyone out today?”

The deceptively short bouncer laughed. “Not today but the night’s still young, Aubrey!” She looked past her to Beca. “Shorty.” She held out her hand.

“CR.” Beca eyed it. “You’re not seriously trying to card us, are you?”

“Please. I know better. Even if you still look fifteen.” Cynthia Rose rolled her eyes. “Gimme five.”

“Dollars?” Beca grinned at her. “Since when did you start charging covers on non-band nights?”

“Oh.” Cynthia Rose dropped her hand. “I see. We only charge those that are trying to be a smart ass.”  She clicked her tongue. “So you’re probably going to be poor before too long.”

“Don’t push her, Beca.” Aubrey moved to stand next to Cynthia Rose. “She’ll chuck you out like she did that college guy last month.” He hadn’t believed someone as short as Cynthia Rose could subdue him physically much less toss him out on his ass. Until said ass had hit the pavement and the door had closed behind him.

“Alright alright.” Beca held up her hand. “I’m sorry.” She held up her fist. “Hit me.”

“I oughta hit you.” Cynthia Rose muttered but gave Beca a fist bump. “You guys are early tonight.”

“I didn’t feel like working till closing.” Beca shrugged. “Don’t think Lilly was in to close, so I just locked up.”

“’You don’t think’?” Cynthia Rose snorted. “What if you locked her in there?”

“She’s got a key and the code.” Beca shrugged. “Come find us on your break, we’ll buy you a shot or two.”

“Deal.” Cynthia Rose looked toward the door as it creaked behind them. “Now get your ass out of my doorway so I can greet these nice folks behind you.” She winked at Aubrey. “See you in a bit, Posen.”

“Look forward to it.” Aubrey smiled at her and pushed Beca ahead of her into the main room. “You want me to get the first round?”

Beca shook her head. “Nah, I’m going to take advantage of the round you owe me when you’re too drunk to realize I’m ordering the good stuff.” Holding out her hand, she continued. “Gimme your helmet and I’ll have the girls stow them for us.”

“Thanks, Beca.” Aubrey handed it over with a smile. Making her way to the table at the right corner of the stage, Aubrey took the seat that put her back to the wall. Shrugging off her small backpack she dug around in it until she found her brush. Taking out the hair tie holding her long hair into a loose ponytail she ran the brush through it.

“Grooming?”

Aubrey ignored Beca and continued getting out the tangles that her helmet had caused. “You know you want to use it.”

“Maybe.” Beca set down a small tray that held two glasses of water and two bottles of beer. “I’ll be back, Jess made me promise to bring the tray right back.”

Setting the brush on the table, Aubrey picked up one of the bottles. “Okay.” She took a drink. “I’ll be here.” She waited until Beca had turned around and started back toward the bar. “Drinking your beer.”

“Woman…” Beca threatened. “Don’t you dare.”

“Better hurry.” Aubrey settled back in her seat with a grin, already trying to decide what they were going to sing tonight. She eyed the room, nodding at some regulars.

“Your turn.” Beca said, dropping into the seat to her left. “I’ve already got your first song down.”

“That was quick.” Aubrey eyed the two new bottles of beer that had appeared on the table. “You really thought I’d drink yours?”

“Yes.” Beca said, carefully pulling two of the bottles in front of her. “Like you haven’t before.” She picked up Aubrey’s brush and ran it through her hair.

“True.” Aubrey shrugged and stood. “I’ll be back.”

Taking the first bottle with her, Aubrey made her way to the end of the bar, patiently waiting as other people put down song choices.

“Hey Aubrey!” The brunette in charge of the song list smiled at her. “Beca giving you any of those beers?”

“Hello Ashley.” Aubrey held up her bottle. “At least one of them.” She stepped up to the bar and opened the giant binder of songs. “Am I going to like what she picked for me?”

“Maybe?” Ashley shrugged and grinned at her. “You know I can’t tell you.” In fact the top half of the paper had been hastily covered with a napkin so that Aubrey couldn’t see what had been written down.

“True.” Aubrey took a drink of her beer and pursed her lips. “Guess I’ll have to get her from the start.”

“That’s my girl.” Ashley held out the pen. “Can’t give that one an inch.”

“Bree!”

Taking the pen, Aubrey looked up as a blonde head appeared over Ashley’s shoulder. “Hi Jessica. Looks like they’re keeping you busy over there.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Jessica rested her chin on Ashley’s shoulder. “Denise will be here soon.”

Aubrey wrote Beca’s name on the sheet sitting on the bar, followed by her song. “You guys still on for the group song later?”

“Are you kidding?” Ashley laughed. “Jess has been practicing all week.” She kissed the side of her girlfriend’s head. “Now go pour those nice people some drinks and make mama some money.”

“Yes dear,” Jessica waved at Aubrey. “I’ll come say hi in a bit.” She went back to the other end of the bar, already greeting the people waiting for her.

“See you.” Aubrey called after her. “Thanks, Ash.” She pushed the paper back across the bar.

Ashley looked at the song and laughed. “No no, thank you.”

“You know she secretly loves it.” Aubrey said as she turned.

“You look too pleased with yourself.” Beca said as Aubrey sat back down.

“Just said hi to the girls.” Aubrey went to take another drink and found the bottle empty. “Oops. Guess I should’ve left that up there.” She set it down and picked up the other. “Thanks for thinking ahead.”

“You’ve been looking… thirsty lately.” Beca said.

“Oh for the love of…” Aubrey shook her head. “I am not thirsty Beca.”

“Mmm. Sure.” Beca laughed and ducked the napkin Aubrey threw at her.

“You are the worst,” she groaned.

“You mean the best.” Beca said airily. “Now hush, things are starting.”

Laughing, Aubrey settled down and watched the first person take the stage.

As former college championship winning a capella singers, Jessica and Ashley seemed to attract a higher level of karaoke aficionados to the L&L. Rarely did you get someone who was off-key – at least not intentionally. Aubrey herself wasn’t above singing something badly for effect. But tonight everyone was on point and she was enjoying herself so much she’d almost forgotten that she’d be going up soon.

“Aubrey, you’re up.”

She looked up, startled as Ashley called her name. “Oh, right.”

“Have fun,” Beca said as Aubrey stood up.

“Should I be afraid?” Aubrey stepped up on the stage and took the microphone off the stand.

“Always, Bree.” Beca nodded. “Always.”

Aubrey narrowed her eyes then looked at the monitor as the opening notes of ‘Call Me Maybe’ started. She allowed herself one moment of annoyance, because while she did like the song she knew why Beca was making her sing it. But she was Aubrey Posen and she never backed away from anything in her life. She would sell the shit out of this. By the end of it the room was singing along with her and Aubrey waved after she put the mic back on the stand. She went back to her table and took her seat.

“Nicely done, Posen.” Beca held out a fresh beer.

“Thank you.” Aubrey took it and took a long drink. “I think I sense a theme for the night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Beca took a drink of her own.

Instead of answering, Aubrey merely turned back to the stage as the next person stepped up. Even as she clapped and sang with the next songs, she was busily trying to figure out how to get even.

When Beca saw the song Aubrey had picked, she groaned. “Not this song, Bree. It’s so overplayed.”

“Shut up and sing, Mitchell.” Aubrey grinned.

Beca put on her Resting Bitch Face and her whiniest voice for the start of ‘TiK ToK’ but by the chorus she’d given in and was bouncing around the stage to the cheers of the crowd. When she’d finally taken her chair again Aubrey pushed her shoulder.

“You’re no longer allowed to tell me you hate Kesha. I know it’s a lie and so does everyone else who saw you just now.”

“Yeah yeah.” Beca took a drink of her beer as she tried to catch her breath.

The rest of the night continued in much the same pattern.

Beca made Aubrey sing Avril Lavigne’s ‘Girlfriend’ and Sophie B. Hawkins’ ‘Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover’ while Aubrey had made her sing Meredith Brook’s ‘Bitch’ and ‘When I Grow Up’ by Garbage. Not that either of those songs were ones that Beca wouldn’t enjoy but at this point Aubrey was just trying to use the titles to make a point – no matter how obscure. There was a brief truce as they sang ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with Jessica and Ashley, almost causing a riot when they bowed out of doing an encore.

Aubrey debated on the last song, but there just weren’t enough casual-insults-between-friends songs that she felt were appropriate. She’d been looking through P!nk’s song list, discarding ‘Trouble’, though appropriate, and ‘Blow Me (One Last Kiss)’ before deciding to just pick a fun song to end the night on: ‘Raise Your Glass.’

Beca, however, had other ideas.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Aubrey laughed as ‘I Touch Myself’ by the Divinyls started.

“Hey, it’s from the ‘90’s!” Beca called from the table.

I love myself, I want you to love me When I feel down, I want you above me I search myself, I want you to find me I forget myself, I want you to remind me

A plan was slowly forming in her mind and she worked the stage but kept her eyes directly on Beca as she sang. Then she left the stage and slunk toward Beca, whose eyes were getting wider the closer Aubrey got. And the quieter, more intimate her singing became.

I close my eyes and see you before me Think I would die if you were to ignore me A fool could see just how much I adore you I'd get down on my knees, I'd do anything for you

Aubrey stepped behind Beca, her fingertips running from one shoulder to the other across her back. She resisted the impulse to laugh when she felt Beca shiver.

I don't want anybody else When I think about you, I touch myself Ooh, I don't want anybody else Oh no, oh no, oh no

She continued moving around until she could drape herself across Beca’s lap, noticing how Beca flushed instantly, a nice, deep red going all the way down under her collar.

I want you I don't want anybody else When I think about you, I touch myself Ooh ooh ooh ooh ah ah ah ah oh ah

She crooned into Beca’s ear, much softer than the song called for and traced the spike that ran through the lobe. Beca’s sudden indrawn breath was audible through the microphone and now Aubrey let the smile free as she slid from Beca’s lap and strutted back to the stage to finish it. As the song drew to a close she took a bow as whistles filled the room. Ashley came up and took the microphone from her, smirking.

“And that’s the last song for the night. Thank you all for a great night of music and we hope to see you again soon!” Turning off the mic she placed it back in the stand and turned to Aubrey. “I think you killed her.”

Aubrey shrugged. “She started it.”

“Agreed.” Ashley pushed her toward the table. “Go sit while we clear everyone out. I need a drink with my friends.”

“Like I’d say no to that.” Aubrey laughed and went back to the table where Beca was steadily draining the last of her beer.

“Nice song choice, Mitchell.” Aubrey leaned back in her chair.

“I’ll never make that mistake again,” she vowed. “You win.”

“A Posen always wins.” Aubrey laughed. “You really did bring it on yourself.”

“Yup. I see that now.” Beca drummed her fingers on the table. “You’re a very wicked woman, Aubrey.”

“When the situation calls for it.” Aubrey shrugged. “Ashley told us to hang out while everyone leaves.”

“’Kay.” Beca’s face was deliberately neutral and Aubrey wondered what was going on behind eyes that were not-so-casually avoiding looking at her.

The two of them sat in silence, not uncomfortable but Aubrey could almost hear Beca thinking as the seconds ticked by. Even Aubrey could admit that what she’d done had some effect on her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten that close to someone; Beca’s riding behind her on the bike didn’t count. But this was her best friend and Aubrey didn’t think of her that way.

At least… not until now. Maybe Beca was right and Aubrey really just needed to get laid.

“So, is there something going on between you two that we don’t know about?” Jessica interrupted her thoughts as she, Ashley, Denise and Cynthia Rose approached the table.

“Nope.” Aubrey smiled innocently. “Just singing songs.”

“No.” Beca confirmed. “Aubrey likes her brunettes taller, apparently.”

Cynthia Rose set down the bottle of vodka she’d brought over. “Are we still talking about the chick that Aubrey’s having some bike war with?”

“That’s the one.” Beca waited as the four of them pulled over chairs and Ashley set down the stack of shot glasses she was carrying.

“Beca.” Aubrey sighed. “For the last time. I don’t even know if she likes women.”

Jessica carefully poured shots for all of them. “You know, the way you said that, it makes me think you’re interested in finding out.”

“Thank you!” Beca picked up her glass. “I knew I wasn’t the only one.”

Aubrey scowled and picked up her own shot and downed it. “That is not what I meant. At all.”

Except maybe it was, because her memory of that day had changed. She no longer thought of it with anger and even now she was only triggered by seeing That Bike in her spot. But… she sort of wished she remembered more of what the other woman looked like because in memory her voice was nice and the annoyingly vague impression she had was someone who was pretty. Plus, despite it all… she had called Aubrey cute. Sort of.

“I mean, it sounds like that’s what you meant.” Denise threw back her shot. “Like, you’re personally interested in finding out if she likes women or not.”

“You didn’t even know if Chloe liked women when you told me you were thinking of asking her out,” Beca pointed out. “So why is this one different?”

“She’s an insufferable woman who keeps stealing the bell off my bike. I couldn’t care less if she likes women.” Aubrey set her glass down and picked up the bottle to pour another. “And you can all fuck off.”

“Now look who’s getting uppity.” Cynthia Rose shook her head. “You know what they say ‘bout protesting too much.”

“Can we please talk about anything else?” Aubrey closed her eyes. “Did you guys give Beca this much crap over that DSM woman?”

“Aub...” Beca held up her hand.

“Wait – what about the blonde German goddess… exactly?” Ashley leaned forward. “Have you been holding out on us, Beca?”

“Thanks, Aubrey.” Beca picked up the vodka and ignored the shot glass, taking a drink directly from the bottle.

Aubrey smiled sweetly at her. “You’re welcome.”

Jessica held up two fingers. “First, I can’t believe either of you didn’t tell us whatever you’re about to reveal sooner.” She folded her middle finger and pointed at Beca who snorted. “Second, that’s gross and now you have to buy the whole bottle.”

“There’s no story here.” Beca muttered and handled the bottle to Denise who took a swig. “You know I hate that woman.”

“See my previous statement about protesting too much…” Cynthia Rose turned to Aubrey. “Spill.”

Aubrey leaned back in her chair. “Well... Beca thinks her sweat smells like cinnamon…” Beca just groaned and let her forehead rest on the table.  Aubrey smiled as the rest of the girls begged for more details.  Maybe now Beca would let the whole ‘you’re into the aggravating gym woman’ thing drop.

Because Aubrey had a sneaking suspicion she might be right. And that was definitely not allowed.

[thotteus-beaumont]

I’m in love with a boy

Summary: “Finest boy in the world...”“ 

“Don’t forget we have to stop at the video store.” Pete laid his head on Henry’s shoulder and sighed. For a moment or two, the three friends watched people pass them by with hoards of bags. They had laughs on their lips or kids at their hips but most of all, they just looked rushed.   

Ship: Henry/Pete & background Jonesy/Beaver

Words: 4,450

{September, 1981}

The pink & blue tiles framed the spot of the floor in which Beaver had spilled his soda in a nice diamond shape. 

Moon-Park Mall was about the closest shopping center to Derry (that didn’t just house dead Sears) and even it was a few miles outta the way. But the rush of after-school energy always made the trip worth it for most Derry-students. 

The ceilings were lined in neon-light stripes which matched the tiles--minus the new huge fizzy-brown stain--and shined down a dewy haze of color on every customer. And the plastic trees littering each corner really enhanced the consumer paradise with a soft atmosphere comparable to a pretty sunset...that just happened to be over a ‘Frost-Bite’s: Ice Cream’. 

Henry liked it well enough and the gang was far too rowdy to walk up-and-down the aisles of Derry’s finest pharmacy, Mr. Keene could only take so much. 

Beaver had been trying to find a speaker to stand under when he bumped right into Pete’s side and unleashed his refreshment all over those dusty tiles. 

“Fuck me Freddy.” He shook out his tiny palm and sprinkled a few extra droplets around. “I spent my last bit of cash on that shit.” His frown was genuine but the pout which followed was far exaggerated. Old ladies with baskets curled in their elbows, spared them a few glares as they strolled by. 

“The forbidden drink...” Pete licked his lips and stole Beavers useless straw and made a forward gesture, as if about to suck the brown puddle up through his teeth. Jonesy kicked him. 

Pete just chuckled and sat back down on the tiny bench by one of those plastic trees. He was still in his cross-country clothes; Derry Tigers stamped shorts and a matching red-and-white jacket. “No use in crying over spilled cheap-generic soda, Beav.” Henry rubbed behind his ear & bumped his glasses. 

“Easy for you to say. You still got twenty-bucks left.” He scoffed. 

“Oh, a, oh.” Pete echoed the song playing over the loud-speaker without even thinking about it. 

“Yeah, and I’m spending it on one of those crappy hot-dogs from the food-court.” Henry stuck out his tongue. 

“Oh, a, oh” This time, Jonesy joined in. 

Beaver rolled his eyes but nonetheless, the four of them burst into a united annoying chorus with more of a casual expression rather than excited. 

“I met your children Oh a oh What did you tell them? Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star...”

With no obvious tell of their musical moment, “Get some paper-towels from Mr. Harper at the Pretzel place, Beav.” Jonesy lightly tapped the tiny mans back and ushered him to start in that direction. 

As he took off, the others lazily plopped down on the bench and stared forward at the puddle, past their dirty sneakers. “Don’t forget we have to stop at the video store.” Pete laid his head on Henry’s shoulder and sighed. 

For a moment or two, the three friends watched people pass them by with hoards of bags. They had laughs on their lips or kids at their hips but most of all, they just looked rushed. “We have to watch the movies at your place tonight cause Beav broke his VCR, remember?” Jonesy laid his head on Henry’s other shoulder for easier communication.   

Pete’s nose wrinkled. 

“We could always do something else.” Beaver butted in as he flew past them with crumpled up towels. He crouched down on the floor and began wiping the liquid away while Henry hummed. “We are Seniors after all--Pardon my big-boy talk, Pete. Some of us are Seniors.” He stuck his thumb over to him and Pete rolled his eyes. 

“Interesting to hear big-boy speech coming from you, Beaver. What are you 5′3 now?” Pete chuckled and was rewarded with a face-full of soda drenched towel. “Ow, fuck.” He whipped it back to Beaver. 

“Hey Pete, C’mere.” Henry flicked his tongue and gestured for Pete to come in close. He mumbled a few words into his friends ear in a whispered tone and both giggled. 

“What are you telling him?” Beaver laid the towel over his arm and came at them like a tiny ball of fury. 

Pete blinked a few times and leaned into the whisper before smirking. “Your credit-card number.” 

“So?” Beaver shrugged, not seeing how that could possibly be a big deal. 

“I’m gonna register you for that Modeling contest downstairs.” Pete could barely get the words out before laughing madly and hopping out of his seat. Running down the length of the 2nd floor before Beaver even started after him. He was that fast. 

Jonesy craned his neck to watch them go and laughed quietly, hearing their annoying teases from way down the halls. “Where do you think they’ll end up?” he asked as the two of them slowly got up from their seat. 

Henry hummed again, rolling his shoulders back. “Either the Food Court or Spinners.” Spinners had become one of Beaver’s favorite places ever since he first stepped into the aisles of records. “We better run after them, huh?” 

Jonesy chuckled. “Oh, let’s get a move on.” He nodded and the two of them started to slowly stroll down the Mall, whistling. 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis playing over muffled speakers} 

Pete set his chin in the middle of his palm and watched Beaver aimlessly flicker through records. Sometimes he’d pull them out and stare for twenty or thirty seconds and then slide them back inside their bins. 

Spinners sat in a nice little corner of Moon-Park which had a very convenient fry-stand nearby. 

“What’s Randy doin’ today?” Pete asked, with a mouthful of salt-and-peppered garlic fries. He followed Beav with loose interest. 

“Most likely making out with his girlfriend to something shitty like Jessie’s Girl.” Beaver shrugged, not much into whatever the hell it was that his older brother was doing on this fine day. “Why?” 

Pete shrugged and swallowed some food. He breifly made eye contact with a passing dude in a white t-shirt that read; ‘I Love a Rainy Night’. “Remember when he used to chaperone us whenever we came here?” 

Beaver took a few fries and smiled. “Yeah. Jesus-Christ-Bananas, time is kicking our asses.” He frowned and Pete pursed his lips, shrugging himself. “We’re gonna be graduating and then what?” 

Pete felt a tug in his chest at the thought. He’d been doing his best all summer to pretend like they were all going to stay-together after the school year even though he knew better. “You’ll leave me behind.” 

Beaver smacked the back of Pete’s head. “We say some stupid shit, don’t we Pete?” He gestured between them and Pete smiled with genuine warmth and fondness. 

“We know what we are.” Pete frowned again but it was more mocking than anything and stuck out his hand. He’d been genuinely sensitive over the fact that he appeared to be a total moron compared to Henry and Jonesy ever since the start of their friendship. He was aware that outsiders recognized that fact as well. But the Beav always made him feel better because ,Hell, anyone would look dumb next to Gariella & Henry. 

Beaver smacked it with joy. 

“Smart enough to figure out who the villain is in Scooby-Doo-” 

Pete rolled his eyes. “Be serious, idiot. It’s supposed to be something you’re actually proud of. This routine was your dumb idea anyway.” 

Beaver chuckled. “Smart enough to pass Mr. Landon’s Algebra test.” He compromised and tipped his chin. 

“Smart enough to get an A on that science test.” Pete smiled smugly and accepted Beavers distant yet proud whooping as he paraded once again around the aisles of Spinners. 

‘I Love a Rainy Night’ guy went past Pete again with something like an interested look before pulling out a few records. 

Pete turned around and nailed his back against the row of bins that Beaver was currently browsing. “Who sings that song again, Beav?” He tried to subtly point to the dude with his head. 

Beaver glanced up over his glasses. “Oh, um...shit it’s-...Rabbitt.” He snapped his fingers a few times. “It’s like Joey Rabbitt or something, crap.” He mumbled a few names to himself. 

Pete was pretty sure the last name was right anyway, so he slowly walked on over to stand next to the guy. “Rabbitt fan, huh?” Pete smirked. 

The man nodded, looking eerily ready to play this little game. “Yeah. I am. Why?” 

Pete hummed and ate another fry. “Well, you know the phrase ‘screwing like rabbits'? I think you and I can do better, want to try?” 

Beaver nearly choked on his own spit as he watched the encounter. It wasn’t technically uncommon for him to see Pete do something so bold. The two boys had confided in each other (and each other only) shortly after puberty had told them that bisexual thing might apply to their horny-teenage selves. 

It wasn’t exactly an accepted thing so they’d managed to keep it to themselves for a long time before they’d accidentally got drunk and maybe kissed each other to experiment. Their hypotheses were right in that they liked boys but the experiment failed in a sense because the kiss was gross. But it’d only been because the two of them were never meant to swap spit like that. Only when sharing sodas. 

But this was an extremely bold move that Beaver wasn’t a fan of. If the dude happened to take offense to the ‘accusations’ that pick-up line held-

The Rabbitt fan just smiled and looked Pete up and down. “I’ll see you around.” He shook his head and strolled off. 

Pete looked after him and chuckled to himself as he walked back over to the Beav who was uncharacteristically pissed. 

“That could’ve been a real fuckarow, asshole.” He shook his head and took in the fact that he may have well been the ‘responsible’ one in this situation. 

Pete leaned against the display again and frowned. “Sorry. But he was checking me out. I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t been 100% positive, Beav.” He poked Beaver’s arm and looked mighty sorry. “I think he thought I was cute, at least?” 

Pete’s voice was bright and giddy. Beaver had to giggle at the idea of an actual person having feelings for one of them. Between the four of them, none of them had ever had a real girlfriend or any meaningful sexual encounters. 

{Peace Of Mind by Boston slowly transitions onto the muffled speakers}

Jonesy and Henry quickly cut off their stream of the giggles when they entered the store and happily came over. 

“They didn’t take him. Too short.” Pete pursed his lips and mocked sadness, taking Beavers little arm-punch like a champ. 

Henry rolled his eyes. “Beav you’re going with Jonesy to buy those dress-shoes he needs.” He gestured to the far end of the mall. “Pete, you’re coming with me to get those dang hot-dogs I want so fuckin’ bad.” He chuckled and playfully reached to grab Pete’s arm. Pete had no complaints. 

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The neon pink hues from the lights were bleeding into Pete Moore’s hair and blushing against his cheeks. Henry bit down on his sleeve and watched his friend messily dig into his own paper plate of food. 

His mind briefly filled with memories of their childhood, he could almost taste the sweet candy that Beaver used to steal from his brother. As they grew, candy became weed. Henry chuckled to himself and swallowed a bit of hot-dog. 

“Don’t laugh, I know I probably got food everywhere.” Pete rolled his eyes and took another large bite. 

“No-I wasn’t laughing at you.” Henry giggled. 

“Convincing, That’s what we tell Beaver when he does impressions in public-” 

Henry shook his head and curled his fingers together under his chin. “Nah, I’m serious. I was just...thinking.” He rolled his lips together and felt oddly alive at the sight of Pete’s warm smile in this damn commercial building. 

“What about?” Pete hummed, interested. 

Henry wasn’t sure what exactly he had been thinking about. Just that it was...nice to look at Pete. To be with him. “Remember when Randy took us to the mall and you blew chunks?” 

“Yeah, I was eating my weight in junk back in those days. Now, I’m all healthy and shit.” Pete wiggled his leg and gestured to his sports jacket. Henry lingered his eyes on his friends greasy tray and hummed. 

“Time flies.” Henry shook his head and stole some fries off of Pete’s plate. “Soon we’ll be adults...” he widened his eyes for a few seconds while Pete seemingly paused mid-action. “I can’t imagine us like that.” 

Pete swallowed and pulled his hands into his lap, leaning back casually. “I can’t imagine living past twenty-one...twenty-five, tops.” He chuckled, like it was funny but Henry felt hot anger. 

Moderate traffic could be heard through the large windows and past the echoes of the thick sounding music playing over the loudspeaker. Henry picked a small collection of crumbs from between his teeth and let the neon wash over him for a second. “It’s forty for me.” He frowned, scooting closer and laying his elbows on the crusted table. “I just don’t know--...sometimes I think I was meant to be thirty...a comfortable adult, y’know? But forty?” 

Pete hummed. “That’s a long time to try and stay happy.” 

Henry blinked. “Yeah-...that’s...” He nodded his head and leaned back again. “That’s exactly what I think when I-...y’know?” He shook his head and sighed. They both turned towards the windows and silently observed the new falling rain, which tapped lightly. 

“You’re gonna be with me though so...forty won’t be so bad.” Henry made sure to add that with the sincerest of looks. Pete made slow eye contact and dragged it out farther as he gently rested his chin on his elbows which were curled on the table. Smiling all the way like...well-...like he was looking at his best friend. 

“Randy bought me a ginger-ale and walked me to the bathroom.” His chuckle was muffled as he hid his smile in the crook of his arm. “I thought that was the shit, H.” He giggled again which ignited a bit of confusion in Henry. “My best friend’s older brother was paying attention to me, y’know?”

Henry slowly copied his friends position, lowering his chin and resting it like he was falling asleep in class. “He had a Grateful Dead t-shirt on...and I thought he was the coolest guy.” Pete lazily smiled, looking a little whacked-out with charm as he always did when he was joyful. It was contagious. Especially to Henry. 

He’d always been softly fond of Pete Moore. 

“I gotta pee.” Pete made the move to get up. 

“Hold it.” Henry smirked, teasing him slightly but also not wanting to break whatever this fun little moment was. 

Pete cocked his head as if too amused with that comment to actually speak it into words. 

“-I’ve seen enough brown puddles today, go to the bathroom.” Beaver cut in from behind them and happily bounced over to the table. Jonesy just bounding over from the escalator. 

“He has to pee, Beav. You sick freak.” Henry stole Jonesy’s coke and took a long sip as Pete pushed little man’s shoulder on his way to the bathroom. Beaver broke out into hysteric laughter and ate the leftovers on Pete’s tray. 

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{A muffled version of Help Is on It’s Way by The Little River Band playing over those loudspeakers}

They’d managed to split up in all possible pairs before Henry and Pete landed together again. 

Pete was strolling along the shiny pink railings and dodging large plastic leaves from the potted plants as he walked the length of the floor. Henry just followed behind him and occasionally next to him if he was able to catch up, that is. 

Pete was a little in his head and had been that way since their snack break. But it didn’t stop him from roaming around the Mall as if he hadn’t been coming there since they were kids. He’d unzipped his sports jacket and revealed his old NASA t-shirt that was littered with faded stars behind a long rocket.

Henry was quietly enjoying the next time he ended up able to match Pete’s speed when he noticed some guy in a ‘I Love a Rainy Night’ shirt just down by the anchor store of their wing. 

The guy seemed to be observing someone behind them with an expression of interest. It was only when they were in talking distance that Henry noticed the man was looking at Pete, who was far too deep in that mind of his to notice.

Henry wondered if they’d have to jump-start Beaver’s car to get outta the parking-lot this time. 

The dude glanced down at Pete’s T-shirt just as his friend came-round from his little daze and halted. 

“I think you might be a star, because I can't stop orbiting around you.” Eddie Rabbitt’s fan flicked his tongue and Pete’s cheeks no longer needed the mall light’s to glow pink. He seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words. 

Henry had to blink himself out of his own daze. He’d never seen a man so bluntly try to ‘pick-up’ another man...let alone Henry’s friend. 

“Ha...” Pete looked at the patch of odd carpet they were standing on and scratched at his neck. 

The man seemed to notice something that Henry didn’t and nodded his head. “Sorry, look...I thought you were someone else..” He mumbled awkwardly and went to walk off. He was a little ways a way when he turned back and gestured out behind him. “Can you tell me where the Sears is?” 

Henry opened his mouth but Pete shuffled over and pointed off. 

As Pete approached, the guy’s face quickly became apologetic. “Hey, look...I’m such an idiot. I didn’t even think about the fact that you might not even be um- out to your friend over there.” He frowned, in a whispered tone. 

An odd flash of strong emotion punched Pete in the stomach. He blinked towards the floor and grouped his hands together, pressing them against his lips...a nervous little tick. “It’s...-” He flicked his hands out. “It’s fine.” He broke them apart and shrugged. 

“Hey, man...” The man sighed. “I know this can be a lonely...and scary thing but it ain’t because of the thing itself.” He ran his hand down his face. “It’s the situation. “I know that it feels heavy to you right now and you’re scared to lose your friends or be ridiculed for just being...who you are.” Eddie Rabbitt’s fan gestured and Pete widened his eyes a little. 

Henry was beginning to get antsy, wanting to know why it took so long to tell him where the Sears is.

“But you don’t need to settle for people who are going to treat you differently for that. There will always be people who love you for who you are and anyone else isn’t worth your time. You don’t need to hold this shit in just because you’re afraid to lose people who ain’t worth shit anyway.” He rolled his lips together. 

“It’s the fuckin’ eighties man...I’m hoping a more accepting time is coming.” He looked around the people passing them. “I didn’t mean to come on so strong with that support, buddy. But y’know, there isn’t much of that going around for us.” He playfully slapped Pete’s frozen arm. 

“Fuck man, I never really thought much of it.” Pete finally spoke. 

“I admire that.” He nodded. 

“Beaver giggled with me today...over a boy-...you that is.” Pete chuckled nervously. 

“Beaver-?” 

Pete waved his hand. “Oh it’s a nickname...for my other bisexual friend.” He laughed again. “He taught me the words.” He nodded to himself. “He taught them to me but I never really...appreciated them beyond...” He waved forward again. “Nodding along and rolling with it. Happy enough with the go-ahead that I could have more fun fooling around.” 

The guy smiled and opened his mouth.

“Though to be honest, I haven’t been ‘getting any’, y’know?” Pete chuckled. “I’m only a Junior in High-school...I mean, I kissed the Beav but that was just a tester. And Julie Winters and I made-out during spin-the-bottle once.” He spoke in a rushed tone. “I think...I may have feelings for this guy but....Jesus-Christ-bananas, Henry is gonna figure out I’m not just telling you where Sears is, huh?” He frowned. 

“Pete, by the way.” 

“Senior. Trevor.” He stuck out his hand which Pete shook. 

“My...” Pete looked back to Henry, who wiggled his nose to push up his glasses and shot him a nervous grin. “Best friends love me.” He bit into his lip but still managed a genuine closed-mouth grin, which was honestly more sincere than his toothy-smile sometimes. “And Sears is over there at the left end.” Pete happily snapped and flicked his fingers out. 

“Thank you, Pete.” Trevor mocked a salute and was off in just a few seconds. 

As he walked off, Henry strolled over and gave Pete an odd little curious face. He puckered his lips in a cute way and crossed his arms. Semi-distracting, in Pete’s opinion. 

He opened his mouth but Pete quickly jumped in with something smart-

“I’m holding in my pee.” He blurted out and instantly regretted it. 

Henry raised his brows and smirked.

“I just mean-...” Pete sighed. “I wanna talk. An hour ago, I feel like we were having this great conversation and I tried to get out of it by peeing.” He gestured back to the food-court. Henry only smiled, rubbing his curled finger against the tip of his nose. “But I won’t this time.” 

“I don’t want you to burst, Pete.” Henry chuckled. 

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The bathrooms were no escape from the neon lights and colors, though they were an exclusive club for painted fish wall-decorations. 

Henry was observing the way the colored bulbs bounced light over the fake scales of a miserable angelfish, one eye opened & his head cocked, while Pete’s stream of pee flowed behind his view. 

“So, we left off on Randy?” Henry leaned his head back on the tiny wall which separated the mirrors from the row of urinals. 

The stream turned into a trickle and then faded off with a zipper finale. Pete stood in-front of the urinal for a few seconds and listened to the muffled version of Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the Mall, just outside the doors. 

He hummed and leaned back on the same wall, just behind Henry’s side. “Yeah. We did. Remember the ginger-ale?” Pete playfully reached over his shoulder to tap wherever he assumed Henry’s arm was resting. Henry hummed back. 

Fleetwood Mac transitioned into a quiet Zombies song...’She’s Not There’...

The vocals seemed to bounce off those ugly yellow-plastic chairs which filled the sitting area outside. Henry turned so that his temple was what was resting on the wall and crossed his arms again. “I liked everything about Randy. He was older and cooler than us...” Pete spoke much softer. “The first time we went cruisin’ in his old car, his cup-holders were all sticky from coke residue and we were all singing along to ‘Stand by Me’...and that was my favorite fucking day ever.” 

Henry watched Pete come ‘round from behind him and plop down onto the counter, covering the ‘No Smoking’ sign. “Douglas was there and he was singing with us. He kept repeating the same lines and it was way damn better than the actual song.” Pete chuckled at the memory. 

Henry nodded, smiling too. 

“I somehow thought Randy was responsible for creating that day and making it so special. It had been his car, after all? And he’d looked so fucking cool driving with the sun-set and shit. But it was the five of us, really. That was my real favorite part.” Pete gestured between them. “But...I was kinda gone on Randy back then, just didn’t really know it. Probably why I experimented with Beaver when I first recognized my feelings for dudes, huh?” 

Henry pursed his lips. “Maybe. Subconsciously.” He nodded and Pete was expecting more from him. “I didn’t know you had feelings for dudes...” He coughed awkwardly. 

Pete nodded, that shy smile came out again. “Yeah. Me and The Beav both.” He shrugged, looking up at the fish painted above Henry’s head. 

Henry pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled, softly. “So, are you-?”

“Bisexual is the term that Beaver taught me. Means I’m into boys & girls. Same with him.” Pete narrowed his eyes in thought and hopped off the counter. He started to stroll out of the bathroom and back out to the brighter world of the Moon-Park Mall. 

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{A muffled version of Thirteen by Big Star playing over the loudspeakers}

Pete and Henry silently glide down towards the first floor by way of escalator, music playing but no words exchanged. 

“By the way, my-’not talking in thirty minutes’-is a show of support.” Henry playfully yet awkwardly bumped their arms together just before they hopped off and dodged the play-train as it rolled past. Pete chuckled and shoved his fists deep into the pockets of his Derry Tigers jacket. 

“I figured.” Pete shook his head with a smile. “Process it, H.” He shrugged. 

Henry nodded. They walked towards the video-store and exchanged a few nervous glances. 

“You experimented with Beav?” Henry blurted as they past a few quarter-swallow’s, as Beaver called the little machines which popped out gumballs and shit. Pete nodded and Henry hummed for the millionth time. “But it wasn’t good?” 

“Nah. We’re not like that.” Pete stuck out his tongue in disgust. “That Randy thing is long-gone too. Just so you know.” 

Henry pursed his lips. “Cool.” 

Pete stopped walking and gave him a little-look. “Cool?” He raised his brows and Henry smiled. 

“Cool.” 

Pete did a little mini-shrug of surprise and giddiness. “Cool.” He repeated, more to himself. 

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Beaver was making Jonesy tie his shoe for him and glancing around at the videos on the shelves, a smile on his face. 

“Do you ever get the feeling that horror films are becoming far too cliche?” Jonesy mumbled as he finished tying. They were standing in-between the horror aisle and the classics. “I think they need to make something crazy. Fucking aliens or some shit coming to earth and killing you from the inside-out.” He chuckled. 

Beaver shook his head. “Oh, you are so the boy for me.” He chuckled, knowing all-too well that Jonesy didn’t hear a thing. 

[last-living-imagines]

Hi love! I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests but I have this idea , the idea is that the reader is bailing murdoc out of jail? Like she’s been in the band from the beginning and is really close to murdoc but they aren’t together yet and she’s mad at the band for just abandoning him, so she finds out finally where he is and bails him out and it’s all soft and fluffy because they missed eachother ? Thank you so much 💞💞💞

My dude, my inbox is ALWAYS open for requests. It’s also always open if anyone ever needs to vent or just needs a friend :) 

I’ve written this over a couple of weeks and realized it’s not as fluffy as I had hoped, but the parts that are there are pretty damn nice. Like fuck I want that lol Here’s a nice long imagine for you, tender! Also, I included a link to a cover from someone I absolutely adore and think you guys would like it :)

~

How the hell could they just kick Murdoc to the curb like this? He was the reason they were a world famous band! The fact that even Noodle, who Murdoc took in with open arms and protected her from day one, was happy that he was gone, appalled her. “Well, everything’s gotten better since Murdoc was put in Wormwood.” Noodle said, knocking a one of Russel’s chess pieces out of the way.

“Wormwood?” You paused, brows furrowing. “They’ve got him there?” 

“Yeah. He has no possible way of getting out of there either.” Russ rubbed his chin, looking for his next move. “Stop worrying about your boyfriend and move on.” You shook your head angrily, muttering, “Not my boyfriend.” before you lost it completely.

“You guys are fucking awful, you know that?” You spat, pushing Ace out of the way as he tried to enter the living room. As you retreated to your room, you could faintly hear him scoff: “What’d I do?”

You shook your head, looking at the letter you had gotten from Murdoc. Looking over his writing, you noted that his bail was set at $250,000. Fuck, how am I supposed to get that? You thought to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt a headache coming on. 

Putting the letter back into your desk, you made your way down the hall to Murdoc’s room. Maybe there was something you could use in there. As you flicked on the light, a pile of paper on his desk caught your eye. Looking them over, they appeared to be pictures of the two of you over the years. One had fallen from the pile, landing backside up. “The hell?” You muttered, picking it up and reading Murdoc’s slightly messy script. Honestly hate this hair color on her. Still bangin’ though. The picture was from when you decided to dye your hair to match 2D’s.

You flipped some others over, reading the sarcastic and sometimes sweet comment he had written. You neared the end of the pile when a picture of a sunset appeared. The back simply had a name and an address quickly scribbled on the back. “Hmmm…” You put the address into your phone, deciding to continue your hunt for something helpful there, considering Murdoc would be pretty pissed if you tried selling any of his stuff. 

Walking into the court room, your blood red heels clicked against the linoleum floor. Your black skirt hugged your curves in just the right way, but still kept you looking professional. The judge raised an eye at you when you said you were there to bail out Murdoc, but looking over the paperwork, chuckled in surprise. “You’re crazy lady.” He shook his head but approved everything. “We’ll let the prison know. You can pick him up tomorrow.”

You flashed the judge a dazzling smile. “Thank you sir.” You took the paperwork back and began to leave the court room. “Oh and I can assure you, I’m completely sane.” You winked before striding out the door. After reading through his comments on the pictures you found as well as rereading the letter Murdoc had sent, you knew you had to do whatever it took to get him out. 

Even if you had to go behind everyone’s backs. Including his.

“Niccals.” A guard slammed his baton against the bars to Murdoc’s cell. “Niccals, get the fuck up!” He reached through and pushed him to the floor, causing him to let a slew of curses fly. “Get what little you have and follow me.”

Murdoc’s brows furrowed, wondering just what in Satan’s name could be happening now. He had already gotten solitary for a week after the fight he had gotten into with Big Balls after being in the infirmary for a while, so he had no clue what awaited him. He collected the small necklace (Y/N) had given him for his birthday out from the inside of his pillowcase and collected whatever else he felt like taking. He followed the officer to the door, being led out to the reception area of Wormwood. “What’s going on?” He questioned as he waited behind one of the barred areas.

“Some dumbass bailed you out.” The officer shrugged and shook his head, unlocking the gate. 

He was free? Who the hell could’ve paid off his bail? Oh fuck. Mudz thought. This might not be good.

As he entered the reception, his eyes landed on (Y/N), in her usual tight jeans, combat boots, and grungy looking top. Her hair had been dyed black again, with some darker purple mixed into the ends-- fuck, she looked good. He almost dropped the handful of his belongings he had clutched under his arm. “(Y/N)? What the hell?”

Time seemed to slow around him as she came forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Murdoc knew he would never be going to heaven, but he was pretty sure this is what it felt like. He wrapped his arms around her waist, breathing in her scent. Even after months away from her, the smell of sea salt and sage made him feel right at home.

“Let’s get you outta here, Mudz.” (Y/N) pulled away, taking his hand and leading him out to her car. 

Murdoc hadn’t been ready to get back to the band yet-- he needed some time alone with (Y/N) first. They had been laying in the back of her car at a pier, the sun having gone down hours ago. There was some soft music coming from a nearby bar, setting a comfortable mood in the small space. How convenient that some bird is singing Fly Me to the Moon. (Y/N) always loved that song. He smiled to himself, humming along quietly to the song. Murdoc pulled (Y/N) closer to his body, letting her head settle under his chin. He had missed her so goddamn much-- even though he’d never admit that out loud. His hand made it’s way up and down her back, letting his nails scratch lightly at some of the exposed skin. She sighed in content at the feeling, her hand that had been resting on his hip tightening slightly. 

The past evening had been spent having some much needed sex. Murdoc hadn’t had any human touch for months, aside from the hard knuckles of the Wormwood occupants. (Y/N) had admitted to him that she had been falling for him hard for a while, knowing she had to get him home after finding his stack of pictures. After that, everything just seemed to fall into place. 

“(Y/N),” Murdoc mumbled after a while of mindlessly rubbing her back. “How did you get the money for my bail?”

She stiffened in his arms at the question. He could feel her heart beat harder in her chest before she sat up. “I, um...fuck...” She ran her hands through her hair, biting her lip as she looked out at the dark waves in front of them. Even though she fell hard for him, she still feared his anger. 

“(Y/N).” He sat up in front of her. “What did you do?”

She sighed, closing her eyes. Her voice came out shaky, knowing what was going to happen next. “I made a deal.” She pulled out the sunset picture he had taken years ago from her pocket, dropping it in his lap. 

“How fucking stupid can you be?!” Murdoc exploded, crushing the picture in his fist. “I’ve told you time and time again, never--”

“I did it for you!” She cried out, frustrated. “I sold my soul and got all the information on El Mierda for you!” (Y/N) pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes to keep the angry tears from falling. She was pissed he just had to ruin a perfect night with that dreaded question. “I know you said to never make a deal with the devil for any reason, but I need you! Gorillaz needs you! And if you yell at me one more fucking time--”

His anger was forgotten as her words registered in his mind. “Wait, wait, wait!” He held up his hands, cutting off her rant. “Did you just say you got the dirt on El Mierda?”

“What’re you a fuckin’ parrot? Yes, I got the dirt on him. You really think I’d just make a deal to get you out?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“If you got the dirt, what the fuck are we doing sitting here, woman?! Let’s go get Noodle and find that asshole.” He grabbed her face and pulled her in for a kiss, before reaching his hand down to pull her back into his lap.

“I think we have something more important to do right this second.” She smirked, her fingers tangling in his dark locks.

[blogsmith57]

Movies Ansd Tv With Pina Colada Song

Movies And Tv With Pina Colada Song Rupert Holmes

Pina Colada Song Wikipedia

Escape The Pina Colada Song Video

Two Pina Coladas Song

Pina Colada Song Video

Janet learns the lyrics to the Pina Colada song. Janet learns the lyrics to the Pina Colada song. On the movie the sweetest thing who sings the pina colada song its a womens group?

In The Number Ones, I’m reviewing every single #1 single in the history of the Billboard Hot 100, starting with the chart’s beginning, in 1958, and working my way up into the present.

***

At least in retrospect, the ’70s must have been the wildest, most motley, most all-over-the-place decade in the history of popular music. Some genuine musical revolutions either started in the ’70s or matured during the decade: Hip-hop, punk, disco, funk, prog. But if you look at the ’70s through the lens of the pop charts, as this column does, you see excitement and tedium locked in a constant struggle for dominance throughout the decade, with novelty sneaking around the outside and getting some jabs in.

So really, the ’70s ended the only way they possibly could’ve done: With a badly-sung, infernally catchy soft-rock ditty, an infidelity-themed story-song that ends in an O. Henry twist. Rupert Holmes’ “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” has popped up on movie and TV-show soundtracks countless times in the past four decades; it has earned its place within our shared consciousness. And yet I can’t imagine ever being in a situation where I would actively seek the song out, where I would want to hear it. But then, I was three months old when the thing hit #1. Maybe I’m not supposed to know what motherfuckers were thinking.

Rupert Holmes, the man who wrote and produced “Escape” and who thus owns the chart transition from ’70s to ’80s, had been part of the pop-music dream factory for a decade when he got to #1. Holmes was born in the UK, the son of an American Army officer and an English woman. He spent the early years of his childhood in the English village of Northwich and the later years in the New York suburb of Nanuet. Holmes’ parents were both musicians, and Holmes went to the Manhattan School Of Music on a clarinet scholarship. Pretty soon after he finished school, he went to work as a pop-music professional.

Holmes was working as an arranger in the late ’60s when he joined the Cuff Links, an anonymous bubblegum group that also featured Ron Dante, the lead singer of the Archies’ “Sugar, Sugar.” When the Cuff Links broke up, Holmes recorded a song called “Jennifer Tomkins.” The single, released under the name Street People, peaked at #36. In 1971, Holmes wrote a cannibalism-themed joint called “Timothy” for the Pennsylvania band the Buoys, and that one peaked at #17. Holmes also wrote ad jingles and scored a little-seen 1970 Western called Five Savage Men. He was in the game.

Holmes released Widescreen, his solo debut, in 1974. Before 1979’s Partners In Crime, the breakout album that gave us “Escape,” Holmes knocked out four solo LPs. None of them sold, but those records helped Holmes build a name for himself as a writer of funny, irony-infused story-songs. Barbra Streisand was a fan, and Holmes wrote songs for her and for the absurdly popular soundtrack for the 1976 film A Star Is Born. Holmes didn’t score a charting single of his own until 1978’s “Let’s Get Crazy Tonight,” which peaked at #72. Private Stock, the label that released “Let’s Get Crazy Tonight,” went out of business when the song was still on the charts.

Holmes got the idea for “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” one night when he was flipping through The Village Voice, the newspaper that once employed me. (“Escape” is the second #1 hit built around classified ads; it arrived eight years after the Honey Cone’s “Want Ads.”) Inspired, Holmes hatched the narrative of a bored couple who, while attempting to cheat on each other, accidentally go out on a blind date with each other. As originally written, the chorus started with the line “if you like Humphrey Bogart.” While he was getting ready to record it, though, Holmes decided that his own songs had too many references to older movies, and to Bogart in particular. He changed “Humphrey Bogart” to “piña coladas” at the last possible minute simply because he didn’t want to let down any of the real Rupert Holmes heads out there.

If you stop to think about “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” for even a second, it’s a pretty nasty little song. The very first line is this: “I was tired of my lady/ We’d been together too long.” The song’s narrator is unhappy with relationship, but he doesn’t do anything to end it. Instead, he sneaks around behind his girlfriend’s back, falling for a sentence in a classified ad. The person described in that ad seems hopelessly basic. Likes: Fruity mixed drinks, rain, champagne, beach fucking. Dislikes: Yoga, health food. But apparently the guy is basic, too, since a few lines of small-print newsprint text are all he needs to ditch his relationship. He takes out his own ad, responding to the first, and he includes grandiose verbiage about planning an “escape.”

He does not successfully execute that escape. It turns out that the girl who took out that classified ad is his own girlfriend, who is just as bored with the relationship as he is. They meet up at an Irish pub and instantly figure out exactly what just happened. The song presents this ending as a happy surprise. In interviews years later, Holmes says that the guy was supposed to be an asshole, and a passive one. The girl, who is also attempting to cheat, was at least the one with the wherewithal to instigate the whole episode. Holmes was hoping that they’d both realize how much they had in common, that they’d recommit themselves to each other. This seems unlikely.

Movies And Tv With Pina Colada Song Rupert Holmes

I have questions. For instance: Where does this couple go from here? They both know that they can’t trust each other. They also know that they don’t really know each other. They’ve got all these completely elementary preferences that they haven’t communicated. After that initial rush of recognition, how does the rest of this relationship look? How long do they stay together? How are they not incredibly pissed off at one another from the moment they spy each other across the bar? How are they not, at the same time, both consumed with guilt upon getting caught? I don’t like this couple’s chances.

I don’t know if this is a good story, but it’s good storytelling. I don’t much like the characters or where they end up, but Holmes sketches out the whole narrative in a few quick words, never losing sight of his own melody. This doesn’t change the reality that the actual music behind this story is exactly the kind of wack-ass soft-rock pablum that I cannot stand. It’s got an awkward, clumpy beat that Holmes recorded with two drummers. (Holmes co-produced it, and he says that the studio band played sloppily that day, so he used the 16 bars he liked the best and looped them.) There’s watery piano. There’s a processed-to-death guitar lead. There’s a groove that can’t stop tripping over itself. And then there are those vocals.

Holmes isn’t a bad vocalist, exactly. He a classic ’70s singer-songwriter guy, a conversational speak-singer. But man, I do not like what happens when he cranks that voice up and hits the hook on “Escape.” The hook is, to be fair, instantly memorable. But this is not always a good thing. Holmes hits that upper register, and I just wish I was someplace else. I don’t even know how people functioned when this thing was all over the radio.

Holmes managed one more big hit after “Escape (The Piña Colada Song).” “Him,” the single’s follow-up, was another story-song. This time, Holmes sang from the perspective of a guy who figures out that his girlfriend is cheating. “Him” peaked at #6. (It’s a 4.) Holmes kept putting out albums into the ’90s, but none of them hit. He also went back to writing songs for other people. “You Got It All,” a ballad that Holmes wrote for the teenage Tongan-American Minneapolis-based Mormon family band the Jets, peaked at #3 in 1986. (It’s a 6.) Britney Spears, an artist who will eventually appear in this column, covered it on her debut album. Get ready to be incredibly depressed: Holmes wrote the song for his 10-year-old daughter. Before the song took off, she died of an undetected brain tumor.

I don’t know how you bounce back from something like that, but Holmes did. After “Escape (The Piña Colada Song),” Holmes has had more success as a storyteller than as a musician. In 1985, Holmes wrote The Mystery Of Edwin Drood, a Broadway musical based on an unfinished Charles Dickens novel. It won five Tonys, including two for Holmes. Since then, Holmes has written more than a dozen plays, many of them hits. He also created Remember WENN, a drama that ran for three season on AMC in the late ’90s, and he wrote all 56 of its episodes. He’s published a few books, too. The man can write, and the best thing about “Escape” is that you can tell that right away.

But Holmes is a whole lot more famous for “Escape” than for anything else he’s ever done in his life. He’s pretty funny when he talks about it, too. In a 2003 Songfacts interview, Holmes said this:

I have a feeling that if I saved an entire orphanage from a fire and carried the last child out on my shoulders, as I stood there charred and smoking, they’d say, “Aren’t you the guy who wrote ‘The Piña Colada Song?'”

Perhaps Rupert Holmes would like to escape “The Piña Colada Song.” So would I.

Pina Colada Song Wikipedia

BONUS BEATS: Here’s the scene from a 1999 episode of The Simpsons — the same storied episode that predicted the Trump presidency — where the not-aging-well future version of Bart sings a parody of “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” during his sister’s presidential addresss:

BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s the weirdly extremely memorable “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” needle-drop from the 2001 film Shrek:

BONUS BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s Kanye West, noted fan of the aforementioned Shrek scene, quoting “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” on “White Dress,” a song that he contributed to the soundtrack of the 2012 RZA-directed kung fu movie The Man With The Iron Fists:

(Kanye West will eventually appear in this column.)

BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s the scene from 2014’s Guardians Of The Galaxy — which, like The Man With The Iron Fists, stars Dave Bautista — where Chris Pratt steals his Walkman back from the space-prison guard who is enjoying “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)”:

BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s the great scene from a 2016 Better Call Saul episode where Bob Odenkirk sings a few bars of “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” and spouts some fake biographical facts about Rupert Holmes:

more from The Number Ones

Raised in Hawaii Jack Johnson was the son of a famed surfer and even tried to have a go of his own on the waves. Unfortunately an accident that involved teeth being knocked out and stitches being required kind of halted that dream as he was sidelined from surfing for a while. It wasn’t too long after that however that his musical talents started to become his thing and picked up a guitar and started strumming out a few songs that he’d thought up. He did this throughout college, joining a band and jamming as they performed here and there during their time together. Johnson’s big break came in 2000 however when he not only produced the soundtracks for a couple of films but he tried his hand at making them as well. You could easily say this man is quite talented but it might still be an understatement.

Here are a few of his songs as used in TV and movies.

5. Glee – Bubbletoes

Glee is one of those shows you either liked or didn’t think about. It wasn’t even a matter of not liking if it you didn’t watch it, as the energy and verve of the show was enough to make it interesting. But if you weren’t into the whole song and dance routine then chances are you wouldn’t dislike it but just wouldn’t watch it since the whole idea of not liking the show seemed kind of petty since it was so upbeat a lot of the time, or at least seemed like it. In many way Glee kind of took a lot of people back to their experiences in high school since there are quite a few people that can remember being in similar clubs.

Escape The Pina Colada Song Video

4. Sense8 – The Sharing Song

This show is something else and it was one of Netflix’s top prospects when it first came out. The ability to connect with people miles away due to a special quality that links them all, and the knowledge and skills that can be shared via that link is pretty cool, but it could cause some serious problems as well. You can’t help but think that some of the people that are connected would embrace this after a period of confusion, but others would seek to block it out since this is the kind of thing that humans would rarely ever be able to get used to since it’s not considered natural or normal.

3. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty – Escape (The Pina Colada Song)

Two Pina Coladas Song

Walter Mitty is a man that no one seems to take seriously since he’s kind of a nobody when the film starts, though he’s far more important than many people would care to realize. Working at Time magazine where he’s been for so long he’s been taken for granted and treated like a shadow on the wall since he’s a very quiet and unassuming person. But when an important negative for the last issue of Time goes missing he has to go and track it down by tracking down the photographer. In the end however he finds that it was with him the whole time, he just didn’t know where to look. The adventure he takes though is what was truly important as it finally got him to open up to the world.

2. Curious George – Upside Down

Several generations have grown up with Curious George since in truth he’s been around for a very long time. As a children’s story he’s one of the most classic tales out there and is the kind of story that you’d want your kid to watch since it’s a very touching and educational show that offers a lot of fun and engaging activity that kids will want to emulate. Sure George gets himself into trouble now and again, but that’s the beauty of the design. Kids can learn how they can get themselves out of trouble as well since George is all about having fun but he’s also about problem-solving. This is just a great show for kids and a bit of nostalgia for adults.

1. Jack Johnson – Middle Man

For all his talent and all his skill at music Jack Johnson is still a very diverse man since he’s not only a musician, but a father, a husband, and an environmentalist that spends a lot of his time balancing his life out between the different roles he’s given himself to play. So far in life it seems like he’s done just fine and has kept everything as it should be. He’s a very open person about his life in music, but keeps a lid on the private lives of his kids and family, which seems like one of the best ideas since quite honestly it’s no one else’s business. He’s definitely a family man and someone that cares a lot about what he does.

Pina Colada Song Video

Usually that’s the kind of person that knows just what they want and how to make it happen.

[msdoctorwho]

Fire Meet Gasoline, Ch. 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461255/chapters/33648915

Bulma was an adventurous girl; she’d been chasing after the Dragon Balls half her life by now. She was no stranger to fear or death, dragons or space. But she’d never been so afraid as when she tore through the still-smoldering remains of her own contraption to find Vegeta.

If he died, she’d never forgive herself for building it.

When he struggled to his feet and insisted he was fine, she’d never so strongly felt two opposing emotions at the same time. Fury at him for almost killing himself, and relief that he hadn’t quite managed it. But he’d passed out before she could scream at him and she’d been too busy shouting orders at the groundskeeping bots and ripping her own clothes into field dressings to manage anything else.

Between herself, her father and the Medi-bots they got him stabilized, thanks to her foresight in hosting the only Saiyan/Namekian blood-bank on Earth in the basements of Capsule Corp. It was easy enough to synthesize a continuous supply once she’d gotten an initial sample, so she stocked enough for Goku, Gohan, Piccolo, and now Vegeta. As far as she could tell, the blood of the two full Saiyans was similar enough to each other to substitute in a pinch, but had type differences comparable to humans. Gohan...well, she wasn’t sure if Gohan would be able to take any combination of human and Saiyan blood, or only his own, so she stocked twice as much for him. She’d tried to get a sample from future kid, but he’d gotten so flustered when she asked that she’d guessed he was like Goku when it came to needles, and let it drop. She would just double her demi-Saiyan supply before the androids came.

After the last of the stitches and bandages were done, there was nothing left to do but watch over him as his healing factor kicked in. She could have gone back to her work and let the ever-vigilant bots do their jobs. She could have watched the live feed from her desk. She stayed.

His body temperature continued to rise as it fought infection and rebuilt itself from injuries that her mind still argued should have been fatal. People did not come back from wounds like that. Humans didn’t. She was struck anew with the realization that he was alien , he was different. However well she liked to think she’d begun to know him, there was still so much she didn’t know at all.

She didn’t usually believe in duplicating tech not of her own invention, but she'd have given anything that night to have a regeneration tank. Why hadn’t she spent some time trying to reverse-engineer that, instead of writing lewd Saiyan limericks?

As soon as he was better, she was going to fix that mistake. He had to get better.

He definitely had what would be considered a fever for a Saiyan, but she had no idea when high might cross over into dangerously-high.

She was back to being pissed off, at herself for her incomplete knowledge of Saiyan physiology, for making the machine that almost killed him, and at him for overriding the failsafes she’d programmed to protect him from himself.

His temperature stopped climbing, so she decided against an ice bath for the moment. He was just restless, and dreaming.

The fever dreams got worse as the night wore on; he progressed to what seemed more like full-blown hallucinations. Most of what he muttered was unintelligible to her, but a few things were repeated so much she’d never forget: ‘Frieza’, ‘demon-lizard’, ‘father’, and worst of all, ‘please’.

Vegeta never said ‘please’.

He grew so restless she considered additional sedatives or ki restraints, but his chemical responses to medication were so unpredictable she was reluctant to add anything new to the cocktail already swimming in his veins, and her heart broke at the thought of putting him in restraints after a night of eavesdropping on his dreams. She felt like an intruder into his most private space, but there was nothing to be done about it. Whether he knew she was there or not, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone when he’d come so close to dying.

He was floating now, pulling at the tubes and needles, eyes half-open, lucidity surfacing in words like ‘Kakarot’, ‘vengeance’, ‘birthright’, ‘ascend’, ‘legendary’, ‘mine’, ‘mine’, ‘mine…’

If she lost control of this situation she’d have to call Goku to get him back in bed, and nothing in the universe would keep Vegeta here after that.

Panicking, she climbed bodily onto the bed with him, trying to ground him with her body weight, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, bringing her lips to his ear, pouring out words that came to her on instinct: “You’re safe. Frieza is dead. You will ascend. I’m here.” The scent of burning things was in the air as his aura scorched the sheets, and her hair. It felt like holding the sun.

Finally, the gathered power fizzled out, and they sank down against the too-hot mattress, searing her unprotected shins like black leather in a hot car. Damn it, Vegeta.

He wasn’t thrashing around anymore, but his breathing was labored, every muscle tense, completely unaware of her presence. She was soaked in her own sweat from the heat radiating off of him, but he was dangerously dry. She grabbed the wet cloth from the side table to cool his face and neck. When she leaned away to wring it out and reapply, his arms came suddenly around her with iron force. The rag hit the floor with a wet smack and she made a little “eep” of surprise as he buried his face in her neck.

This was not quite the embrace she’d fantasized about, honestly. It was more like being trapped in a sauna. Still, it seemed to calm him, and she dared hope he had turned the corner.

But even as he seemed to sleep, he kept tensing as if to brace against blows. Her ribs creaked under his strength. Goku might have to rescue themboth.

And so, in desperation, she sang to him.

She was no great talent, but music had been just another science for young Bulma to master, with pitch and rhythm its rules and elements. She applied herself diligently to the only Saiyan song she knew.

Adrift on the black ocean of fever dreams, Vegeta had been lost in his own crimson hellscape of past demons and future fears, until she arrived. A sliver of blue light worming her way into the nightmares the way she inserted herself into everything else, she told Frieza he was dead, the child he was safe, the warrior he would ascend, and himself that she was there. As though that weren’t obvious. Annoying even in his nightmares, he tried to tell himself, but even the warrior scorned him for a liar.

The black things snarled and snapped at the edges of blue, but came no further, for now. The red eyes were a promise of pain for later, and he waited in dread. Until she sang.

All of it left, when she sang. Her voice was a shock of cold water to his world on fire. A silvery low register incongruent with her speaking voice, almost a caress. And a lullaby tone...to go along with one of of the bawdiest Saiyan drinking songs ever written. Somehow, she knew all twelve verses, each worse than the last, and by the end of it his ears were burning and she’d dragged him back to himself in horror and wonder. Too drained even to cringe at how she held him like a child.

“I must be in sorry shape if you’re caterwauling at me like that,” he rasped, trying for caustic and failing with a dry whisper.

She jerked, her throat closing in relief. “Vegeta,” was all she could manage, hating herself for the catch at the end.

He just sighed, slowly turning his face into her neck. “Your pronunciation is terrible.”

She didn’t move, daren’t breathe. “My source material was, ah, pretty drunk.”

He did not need to ask which of his warriors would have been accidentally recording himself via his own scouter while deep in his cups. He wondered at the pang he felt, thinking of Nappa. Is this guilt?

She had not let go of him. “It’s a pretty great song.”

He snorted. “It’s a drinking song.” He knew he should push her away, but he didn’t have the strength.

Liar. At least admit to yourself that you just don’t want to.

She brushed matted hair away from his forehead, a whisper of touch. “But also a war hymn, right?”

“All Saiyan songs are about war.”

“ Of course they are ,” not-quite under her breath. Tentatively resting her head against his.

She went on, “But this one is all about war and conquest and this one general who can’t be defeated in battle, but full of double entendres about how he can’t, erm, win with the ladies ?”

“Yes.” His face was on fire. Well, more on fire, since he was clearly already feverish.

“Until he finally loses a battle, and the opposing general turns out to be a woman who claims him as her mate? ” He could feel her grinning in delight.

“Yes.”

“I thought it was pretty epic.”

Of course she would. Are we just not going to talk about this whole embrace thing? You know what, actually, I am fine with that.

He explained, “It’s more or less the story of how the two largest feudal city-states of old Vegetasei united and conquered the rest to become an empire.”

She was delighted. “So the greatest conqueror of Vegetasei was a woman?”

His reply was stuffy, as though they had wandered into contested territory. “She was the first , anyway. Greatest is up for debate.”

“Anyway, I liked it,” she murmured.

“You would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No Saiyan who wanted to stay alive would sing a vulgar song like that in the presence of royalty.”

“Pfffft. Like royals don’t know where babies come from.”

“Woman.” How could she even now still manage to shock him?

“You’re all no different behind closed doors.” She tightened her arms as though for emphasis. “Are you, Ve-ge-ta?” If her voice had been a caress before, this was a blatant grope.

“Woman.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Let me up.”

She shoved herself upright. “No. No! Are you kidding?” Her eyes were fire. “Maybe, maybe you can get out of that bed tomorrow. I literally just put you back together .”

He made a frustrated sound. “I have to--”

She smirked evilly at him. “Here.” She handed him a plastic object.

He started at it, not understanding. Then--

Gods, no.

“There is no way--”

“Listen, you ungrateful fuck, you are lucky I didn’t cath you--” she stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose, half-turning from him.

Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good, and he eyed her warily.

“I can call my dad, if you want,” she said in a neutral tone.

At his mulish expression, she continued waspishly, “or Goku ,” picking up steam, fueled by his predictable reaction to that , “but you should probably know that I shaved you bald and put about sixty stitches in your inner thigh to keep you from bleeding to death and get over yourself already!”

He convulsed in humiliated fury, but his open-mouthed snarl died at the tears on her face. He would have argued with her until he pissed himself, or relieved himself in defiance on her floor, but her tears wholly defeated him.

In all his life, had anyone ever cried at the thought he might die? What was wrong with her, that she did?

He turned away from her as much as he was able, until it was done. Shutting his eyes, shutting her out, he heard her walk to the bathroom, flush the toilet, turn the sink on and off.

Instead of leaving, she sat next to him again. He ignored her. Just go away already.

She didn’t move again for so long he thought she’d fallen asleep. He was drifting off in spite of himself, when her hand brushed his cheek, and he hated that her touch was a cool balm to his fevered skin. “Kami, Vegeta.” she said, softly. “Maybe remember this the next time you want to do something this stupid.” She lowered her voice. “If I blow myself up again, that woman will make me piss in a bottle,” she mock-growled.

His eyes flew open. As was so often the case, he didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss her or kill her. He wanted it so much he felt it in his teeth. But he was so tired, all he could do was glare.

Her other hand joined the first, cupping his face between them. It was a bit like holding an injured wild animal; she was not sure he would not bite her. She leaned closer; he stopped breathing.

Her kiss on his forehead was feather-light, as though it might hurt him, but lingering. When she pulled away, there were tears again.

He couldn’t break free from her eyes. “I care about you, you idiot,” she whispered.

He felt like he’d been shot through the chest. Again. What--

She forestalled any retort of his with her fingers on his lips. “I know you don’t want or need to hear that.”

She was so wrong, but he would never tell her, not when he couldn’t admit it to himself.

“Just sleep, okay?” she asked. A reply became impossible and unnecessary as he slipped under before she finished speaking.

Sometime during that endless night, she woke again to him grumbling about the plastic urinal.

He still refused to look at her while she dealt with it, but it was hard to stay embarrassed about what was clearly not a significant issue to her. This made him feel childish for being embarrassed, which pissed him off even more.

But then she smiled at him. “Thanks for not fighting me on this, Vegeta. I know how much you hate it.”

Just the acknowledgement of his struggle took the wind out of the sails of his fury.

It’s not like her smiles were rare. She was a disgustingly cheerful creature. But this one was his alone. Pure, no malice, no hint of mockery. Had he ever received such a gift?

She rolled her neck as she moved back toward the chair. It was no position to sleep in.

“You don’t have to play nursemaid anymore tonight,” he said.

“I know,” was all she said, yawning.

I gave you an out, woman. He snagged her wrist as she passed by, dragging her toward him, not roughly, but not giving her a choice, either.

She tried to tug it back, but even in this state he was so much stronger it was laughable. Her frown disappeared as she realized his intent.

The look on her face as she crawled over the rail was almost predatory. The animal in his blood roared a challenge, while the rest of him wondered if this might be his worst decision yet.

She loomed over him, until the scent of her skin overwhelmed him, his hands finding the back of her bare thighs.

She gasped, a breathless sound, twitching like a rabbit caught out of its den, hands digging into his shoulders.

Then she sighed and made a face at him. “Shove over. I swear, you have the shittiest timing.”

“What, have you suddenly grown a sense of decorum? You’ve been begging shamelessly for this for weeks,” his voice low, cutting. Stung by the unexpected rejection.

“Yeah, well, you had weeks to take advantage when you weren’t missing half your blood-volume. How much fun could that really be for me?” She crooked a limp finger at him, enjoying how much he hated her with his eyes for that.

“I will end you,” he responded, utterly calm. Eerily believable.

She waited for him to object as she nestled herself next to him, pillowing her head on his least-injured shoulder.

He didn’t, but he was back to furiously not looking at her again.

“Don’t freak out, Vegeta. I’m not saying ‘no,’ I’m just saying ‘how about maybe when you’re less almost-dead?’ Nothing says sexy like trying to orgasm while worrying your partner might stroke out.”

He grunted, but allowed her to lift his arm around her.

“I still have your blood in my hair ,” she groused.

He breathed her in, somewhat pleased at that.

“Ugh, only you would find that appealing.”

“Just shut up.”

“I hope you heal as fast as you claim you do, space man.”

He woke up well before her, and meant to let her sleep, but waking surrounded in the scent and feel of her was too much. His body was loudly making the case that it was fully recovered, thank you very much.

He kept trying to shift away from her lest it be obvious to her as well, but she clung to him like warship-grade adhesive.

“Stop moving so much, you’re still like 90% bandages,” she snapped without opening her eyes.

He didn’t know why, with her obvious want of him, it was such a problem for him that his body wanted her back.

Control, he supposed. He wanted total control over this rebellious facet of himself until he decided to unleash it, and not a second before.

Especially if she might say no, again.

“What is that?” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the barbaric fluids dripping into his arm, desperate for distraction.

“What is what, Vegeta?”

“Your primitive medicine still requires manual blood re-supply...that’s mine? It has my face on it.”

She made a noise of affirmation, too tired to speak.

“But those symbols aren’t my name.” He hadn’t put much effort into learning their rudimentary symbology yet, but he’d picked up enough to know that.

At this, she smiled without opening her eyes. “No, they are not.”

At his growl of irritation, she continued, “Humans have various blood types: Type A, B, AB, and O. Yours says ‘Type E’.”

She finally opened her eyes, smile broadening, to watch his reaction. “For ‘Elite’.”

His expression was just shy of murderous. “You mock me.”

She sighed, too tired to be less than honest. “A little bit yes, but mostly no. You are something else, Vegeta.”

He didn’t know what to think or say about that. “Of course I am,” he finally managed, but her light snores needled him in response.

“What does Kakarot’s say?” He couldn’t help asking.

“Hmm? Goku’s?” Her sleepy gaze met his again. “He’s ‘Type 3,’” she said, with a wink.

At that he laughed -- an honest, beautiful laugh. Its purity hurt her heart; she wondered if anyone else had ever heard it. She felt like she’d caught a star with her bare hands, and held it close in wonder.

What was this warmth blooming in his chest? Lingering fever? Or was this what it felt like, to have someone of your own? Oh, Nappa and Raditz had been loyal enough, but they’d been born into his service. It had never really been their choice, and he’d never really appreciated it, either.

She owed him no allegiance, no debt, and in fact had plenty of reason to hate him for the harm he’d caused when he first came to Earth. She owed him nothing, but offered him everything. Her loyalty. Her affection. Even a joke at her friend’s expense to please him.

The intensity of her eyes, when she moved over him again, was the blue of stars expiring, the last fierce gasp of life before the end. “I declare you fit for duty, soldier,” she breathed.

“-- modified duty,” she ground out at the flash in his eyes, “you’re not training today, jackass…”

She caught his retort with her lips. “You’re not going to have anything left for it, anyway,” she whispered into his mouth, and finally kissed him.

He was certain this was an Earthling thing, this meshing of mouths that sounded repulsive in the abstract but was amazingly intense in practice. The longer it went on the more desperate for her he felt, saved from feeling pathetic only by the needy whimpers she gave him in return.

She was careful with him, so careful. Each gentle touch was his undoing. He was completely unaccustomed to physical contact not meant to kill or cause pain. Every nerve ending was over-sensitized, almost painful, but she read his face like a map and knew when to touch and when to let him be.

She knew his hurts better than he did, having tended each one herself. She moved over him gingerly, but her weight was nothing to him.

Her touch was reverent, a feather-light stroke or kiss over every inch of skin not wrapped in gauze. She drew his hands to her, pragmatic as ever, unfazed by his uncertainty, and showed him exactly how his touch could please her.

He’d never felt anything as fine as her skin, or the silk of her hair, the heft of her breasts. In the end, she did not make him beg, but asked if he were certain, before taking him inside her as though this was a thing they had always done.

He’d thought he understood power -- what it was like to have it, and to have none at all. To cower before a monster that controlled your whole existence, or to watch planets die by your hand. He’d never felt anything like this, the power to cause such pleasure it looked like pain, to force his name from her lips, to watch her convulse and wail just for want of him and what his body could give her. He ached to be well enough to put her underneath him, to watch her writhe against vermillion silk, again and again, and he knew then he would never get enough of her.

Still jerky from her own release, she reached down to find a spot he hadn’t known existed, wrenching a cry from his throat as he shattered, lost control so completely that his aura reignited around them again. But this time, joined as they were, it knew her for its own. The blue tendrils of flame licked her skin as she laughed in delight and wonder. He forced it back into himself a breath later, shaken by how easily she'd broken him.

She collapsed onto him, and for long moments there was nothing but the sound of their harsh breathing in the dark. If his face was wet she said nothing of it, and freely gave her own tears as cover.

The next day, extricating himself from miles of gauze, he was stepping in the shower to rinse off before training when he noticed she had written on him, underneath the bandages.

No disgraceful poems this time, nothing so elegant, just the Saiyan word for “penis” in bold characters across his forearm. Her penmanship was improving, but the strokes were jagged, angry.

It would not wash off.

“Woman!” he bellowed, in such a rage that the barometric pressure shifted around the whole compound.

“Hey Vegeta, what’s up?” She asked with feigned nonchalance, as though he didn’t look one breath away from destroying the whole building.

“Remove this immediately!” He brandished his arm at her. Registering dim surprise that she didn’t flinch, that she truly had no fear of him anymore.

She was incoherent, and he realized she was crying and laughing at the same time.

“You’re unhinged!” he spat, uncomfortable with displays of any emotion, much less two that made no sense together.

She patted his wrist ineffectually. “I was so mad at you, Vegeta.”

She took a few breaths, calming down. “And myself, for underestimating your skill and stupidity.”

She wiped her eyes and stepped closer to him, the pain in her crystal blue gaze sucking his breath away. “Most of all, I didn’t know how to forgive myself if one of my inventions killed you, and I couldn’t think about that--”

My miserable life isn’t worth it, he wanted to tell her, though he never would.

She sighed. “I just remember thinking, you’d be so pissed off when you saw it that you might kill me, and how happy I’d be if you recovered enough to do it.”

“Lunatic,” he called her, without venom. Whatever this was between them, it terrified him, and for the first time he could see it was not healthy for her, either.

But then she stepped into his unwilling embrace, clothes and all, even though he was half-under the shower.

Closing the circuit between them was electric, the contact more than merely sexual. The exposed mutual vulnerability was terrifying, but for the first time since his last glimpse of Vegetasei through a shuttle window, he tasted a feeling like home.

[221bshrlocked]

Chains (1)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 1542

Warnings: Intense flirting.

Summary: Karaoke night. That’s all there is to it. No plot really...just lots of sex.

A/N: Because the remix of this song has a fantastic female voice singing lyrics that are so convenient. Also he’d literally be giving you this exact look after all the teasing during that night. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

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Part 2

You tried everything. You really have. But either you weren’t trying hard enough or Bucky was just too stupid to get the hints. The only thing left was for you to walk up to him in front of everyone and tell him to fuck you.

Was he really that clueless? You’ve been trying for months to get his attention or rather retain in once you had it but he was not helping you at all. You even came up with stupid excuses just so he could lay his hands on you. A little “can you zip me up?” or “oops I didn’t know you would be showering here” just so he could understand how much you wanted him but nothing. Absolutely nothing. And it was even more annoying because apparently, he was a lady’s man back in the 40s.

Clearly he lost his touch.

So you were going to get petty. Really petty. Even though Steve told you Bucky harbored feelings towards you, you thought he was just having a laugh. But you dwelled on that thought and figured that if you just pissed him off then he would notice.

And what better way to piss him off than by using Sam whom he already couldn’t stand.

Natasha warned you that Bucky was a little on the aggressive side when he got jealous but hey, you never said you liked it easy.

So that was how you found yourself in this position. And by the looks of it, Bucky seemed to get the hint once you chose your karaoke partner and it wasn’t him. You always picked him but tonight was different. Sam would help you and in return, you’d get him the scientist’s phone number.

You got a little too close to Sam during the first round and noticed Bucky’s unease every time Sam grabbed your hips. So you decide to step it up a notch, knowing that you’d owe Sam big time.

“What’s your next song? Be kind, you’re already winning.” Wanda gestured to you, pissed that Vision was not helping her out in any way and FRIDAY was clearly biased.

“That’s a special one...for a special someone.” You said between shots, looking straight at Bucky and hoping that it would get through his thick skull.

“Does Lady Y/N refer to-” Thor was kicked by Jane who smiled at you and mouthed an apology for his obliviousness.

“Hey FRIDAY, put Chains by Nick Jonas on.” You giggled when Sam raises his shirt to fan himself, grabbing your hips and bringing you closer to him.

Bucky attempted to not care but he was fuming.

With her wine-stained lips, yeah she’s nothing but trouble Cold to the touch but she’s warm as a devil I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul She tasted her break and I can’t get more

You started swaying your hips to Sam’s beat, grabbing his hand and bringing his body close until your back was against his chest. He brought your chin close to his, tracing your lips and whispering in yours ears. You threw your head back and laughed at him telling you that he’s probably going to die tonight since Bucky was killing him a hundred times in his head at the moment.

You got me in chains, you got me in chains for your love But, I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love You got me chains, you got me in chains for your love But, I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love

Tryna break the chains but the chains only break me

You sang the last part with him and arched your back, looking at Bucky and winking.

Then you started singing and it was like fireworks in Bucky’s head. You looked so fucking sexy and the words didn’t register until he realized what the song was actually about.

I am no criminal, just a simple individual I want it all, need it now, no subliminal It is not that difficult, here's a visual Chains and whips, make em strip, I am in control You play the submissive role, then maybe we switch the role

You made sure Bucky was looking at you before circling around and smacking Sam’s ass, getting a surprised nod from him and a growl from Bucky. This was way more fun than you thought.

I'll be your slave, you can have me anyway that you want You got me insane, you got me insane for your love And I wouldn't change, no I wouldn't change this love Got me chains, you got me in chains for your love But, I wouldn't change, no I wouldn't change this love

You turned around quickly, telling Sam to grab your hair and bend you over. He obliged, even though he was terrified.

You looked at Bucky again and smirked.

Oh if looks could kill.

The song kept on going with you teasing Bucky more and more by the second, and Sam regretting this decision every time he saw Bucky giving him the death stare.

What if he went into Winter Soldier mode right now you thought to yourself?

You were terrified and turned on.

And only Bucky was able to get that reaction out of you.

The song ended and you realized how turned on you were. Not because of Sam. Well maybe a little because of Sam. But most importantly because of Bucky.

He was pissed.

In fact, he was so angry, he charged out of his seat, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room into the elevator. Half the people sitting cheered you on while the other told you good luck.

Well, this was going to be an interested night.

It was silent in the elevator. He never once looked at you, keeping his eyes on the floor number. His hand never let go of your upper arm, and after the elevator doors opened to his floor, you thought he held onto you even tighter.

What if he thought you were going to run away?

You followed without a sound, afraid that you’d piss him off even more.

He walked in his room, slamming the door and pushing you up against it, still refusing to look up at you. With each hand at your side, you felt like a cornered rat waiting to be devoured by one angry kitty.

And this was your problem. You always thought of weird shit when you were in awkward situations, causing you to giggle like a two year old.

That was probably the worst decision of the night. At the sound of your chuckle, Bucky raised his head, staring right at you and causing you to quickly shut up.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly regretting the route you chose for the night.

And it was at that moment that Bucky noticed your switch in moods, smirking like the devil and licking his lower lip.

You’ve seriously fucked up this time.

He leaned down until you felt his breath against the shell of your ears.

“You shouldn’t have done that doll.” His voice was a octave lower than usual, making you visibly shiver. He laughed at you sudden shyness, and wanted nothing more than to get another reaction out of you. Biting your earlobe, he stepped closer until you felt only him around you.

You didn’t know what had done it for you. Maybe it was his cologne. Probably his cologne. But then there was the heat radiating off of his body and his soft hair tickling your cheek.

It was all of the above actually.

You moaned when you felt his metal fingers tracing your clavicle. It was now or never you thought. Grabbing his face, you were about to pull him down for a kiss when he grabbed both of your wrists and slammed them on top of you, holding them with just one hand.

You suddenly felt how wet you were, moving your thighs to apply some pressure, which didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. Placing his knee between your legs, he widened your stance and leaned in even closer until your noses were almost touching.

“If you think you’ll have any ounce of control tonight, it’s best if you leave now.”

You whimpered at his admission, not knowing what to say. Raising his thigh a little higher until it met your rather damp shorts, he grabbed your hip with his free hand and moved you, causing sweet friction between your thighs.

You moaned again, knowing very well that there was no way you were going to form a proper sentence right now. He cleared his throat and looked at you like a tiger eyeing a gazelle between the bushes.

“I won’t say it again Y/N. You have now to back out. I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself after this moment.”

You looked into his blue eyes, just noticing that they were darker than you thought. You nodded quickly, wanting to show no hesitance at all.

“I need to hear you say it.” He pronounced every word as clearly as possible.

With all the courage you could muster up, you swallowed again and looked right at him, replying with a voice barely audible to yourself.

“Yes Sergeant.”

[mint-yooxgi]

Soldier - Taemin x Reader

Song Fic - Inspired by Taemin’s Soldier

Military AU

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Taemin x Reader

Words: 4,507

Warnings: A bit of swearing, harsh language and implied smut.

A/n: This is my first ever song fic I've ever done. I love this song so much. Also, I have a lot of Taemin feels. Feedback is always appreciated. I hope you like it!

Ever since he was a little boy, all Taemin dreams about is becoming someone who protects people. Someone who looks out for those who cannot defend themselves, someone who fights with a purpose. He spends his whole childhood doing anything he can to prove himself, to prove he can protect people. To prove he can protect you.

The two of you meet when you’re thirteen, bumping into each other while he’s hanging around at the park. You are being pushed to the ground due to some bullies who never seem to want to stop picking on you.

“Why do you even bother to show your face,” one sneers at you while you glare at them.

“Yeah, who would want to look at your ugly face,” another one adds.

“You’re just a worthless, pathetic, waist of space,” the first one continues.

You fight back the tears that threaten to fall down your cheeks, trying to stand up to walk away from the two bullies, who only push you down each time you try to stand.

“If there’s anyone here that’s pathetic, it’s you,” a voice says from behind you. You turn your head to see a boy with black hair walk up to where you are. His hands are in his pockets and he has a calm look on his face.  “Picking on someone doesn’t make you cool, it just makes you an asshole.”

“Stay out of this,” the leader of the two says, taking a step forward. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Mystery boy raises an eyebrow, “oh? So you expect me to let the two of you continue being assholes, don’t you? Well, I don't think so.”

He takes a step forward and comes face to face with the leader of the two. You can tell they’re fuming, which will only make whatever they choose to do to you that much worse. You freeze in your spot, terrified of what they might do to this boy if he continues to stand up for you, and you can feel your heart skip a beat when the leader takes a swing at his head.

Mystery boy catches the fist that was intended for his face, “you probably shouldn’t have done that.”

You see the second one try to hit the boy while he’s distracted with the leader, but he sidesteps and the leader ends up being the one that gets hit. The three continue their wild dance of the two bullies trying to hit this boy with him just dodging their attacks and making them hit each other instead. After a while, they give up trying to hit him.

“Don’t think this is over,” the leader calls over their shoulder as they run away.

The boy just laughs, turning back to where you are, still frozen on the ground. His face immediately takes on an expression of concern, coming to kneel beside you. “Are you okay?”

“Why’d you do that?” You ask, clear panic in your voice.

He looks at you in confusion, “huh?”

“They’re only going make things worse for me now,” you say, choking on a sob.

“Hey, hey,” he says, reaching out to rub comforting circles onto your back. “Don’t worry about them anymore, I’ll protect you from now on. If I’m with you, they won't even think about bothering you.”

“Really?” You ask, looking up at him with tear filled eyes.

“Really,” he reassures you. “Now come on, let’s get you up.”

He holds out his hand for you to take, helping you back to your feet. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, drying your tears.

“I’m Taemin, by the way,” he says.

“(Y/n),” you mumble.

“Well, (Y/n), consider me like your own personal bodyguard,” he says, smiling at you. “Like a soldier.”

You crack a smile, your heart warming slightly at his words. Here's a boy you barely know, committing himself to protecting you. For the first time in a long time, you feel safe.

Years pass and the two of you become inseparable. He’s always there, making sure to look out for you and that you don’t have any problems. What the two of you have is something special, deeper than friendship, but not quite romantic. Taemin is always getting into fights for you, usually when the two of you head out for a night of fun.

You’re standing at the bar, nursing your second drink of the night when a handsome man sits next to you. Taemin went to the washroom a while ago and he is nowhere in sight, leaving you easier to approach.

“So, what's a young lady like yourself doing in a place like this?” The stranger asks.

“Nothing in particular,” you answer, turning to get a good look at the man’s face. He's got sharp features, defined cheekbone and a sharp jaw. His gaze is piercing, yet soft at the same time, giving you a false sense of security.

“You didn’t come here with a date, did you?” He asks, a shy smile gracing his lips.

“No, actually, I didn’t,” you reply, smiling back at him.

“Good, now I won't feel bad for asking to buy you a drink,” he says, giving you a full smile this time.

He motions for the bartender with his hand and orders a drink for the both of you. As the drinks are being prepared, the two of you continue to get to know each other. You learn that his name is Jonghyun, and he’s an aspiring musician, he’s even offered to sing for you sometime. He makes a few jokes and gets you to laugh, making you forget about Taemin for a while. You feel like you have a genuine connection with him, and from the looks of it, you can tell he feels the same way.

“I was wondering if maybe I could get your number?” He asks after a while of flirting back and forth. For a man with such sharp features, you’ve come to realize how much of a softie he seems to be.

Before you even have a chance to respond, a voice cuts you off, “absolutely not.”

You turn towards the voice and see Taemin standing there with a pissed off look on his face. You look at him in disbelief.

“Taemin, what are you doing?” You give him a look as if to say ‘not now’.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. “We’re leaving.”

You see Jonghyun stand from the corner of your eye, “I believe you should let (Y/n) decide for herself what she’d like to do.”

“And I believe you should stay out of this,” Taemin turns on Jonghyun. “She’s not interested.”

With that, Taemin pulls you out of the bar you are currently in, leaving Jonghyun standing there like a fish out of water. Taemin’s jaw is clenched and you can tell he’s upset.

You make it a few feet from the entrance of the bar when you plant your feet firmly on the ground and yank your arm from Taemin’s grip.

“Taemin, what the fuck!” You glare at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

He looks at you with a hard stare, “all he wanted was to get in your pants.”

“No, he didn’t, Taemin,” you answer, starting to make your way down the street towards your apartment which is located a few blocks away. “We were talking for a while and I could tell that’s not what he wanted. He’s not like that.”

“‘Not like that’, (Y/n), do you even hear yourself?” Taemin chases after you, “You know all men are the same. They’re only after one thing, a good fuck, and that’s exactly what you were going to be to him.”

“You don’t know that,” you yell, spinning on your heel to face him, causing him to almost bump into you from your sudden stop in movement. “And all men are the same, huh? Well then, I guess I shouldn’t be hanging around you.”

Taemin is caught off guard at your statement and takes a moment to register your figure moving further away down the street. He jogs to catch up with you, and once he does, he grabs your wrist and spins you around to face him.

“You know I’m only trying to protect you,” he starts to say.

“I can protect myself,” you spit. “Once you’re done trying to control my life, come find me.”

His eyes widen in disbelief and you see fear flash across his features, “what?”

“I don’t want to see you for a while,” you say, making up your mind and setting your face into a hard expression. “Once you’ve grown up and realized why I'm so upset, come find me, but until then, I don’t want to see you.”

You turn and walk away from him, ignoring the calls of your name that follow you down the street until you make it back to your apartment. You unlock the door and slam it behind you. Tears make their way down your face as you slide down your closed door.

Why is he like this? Every time you think you have a chance with a guy, Taemin comes along and ruins it. You've only had one previous boyfriend, and that was a disaster which left you heartbroken for months. Turns out he had been cheating on you since the second month the two of you were together. Your heart took a hard hit and Taemin was by your side the entire time, making sure you had a shoulder to cry on and making sure that he could do everything he could to make you feel better. Ever since that, Taemin has been acting weird towards you, especially when you’re around other guys. He's your best friend, so you think he just doesn’t want to see you get hurt again.

A few days pass by with no contact from you. He tries texting and calling, but you ignore all of them. Taemin needs to learn that you’re no longer that thirteen year old who gets beat up and bullied every day, you’re a fully grown adult who can take care of yourself.

A week later, you hear a soft knock come from your front door around eight in the evening. You get up from your spot on the couch where you’ve been watching Netflix for the past few hours to answer the door. You open the door to come face to face with Taemin, who has an expression on his face similar to that of a hurt puppy. You stare at each other in silence for about a minute before you open the door wider, silently inviting him inside your apartment. He steps in, glancing at you from the side, trying to read your expression.

You shut your door and follow him into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. He stares at his hands until he finally looks up to meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly says, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“I know you’re old enough to take care of yourself and make your own decisions, and I was way out of line.”

“Yeah, you were,” he gives you a look.

“I guess I was just jealous,” he finally admits, making you look at him in confusion.

“Jealous? Why would you be jealous?”

“It wasn’t me,” he whispers, looking at his hands again. You blink, not quite sure if he means what you think he means. Before you have a chance to ask, he continues, “I love you. I have for a long time, and not in a friend way. I made a promise to myself ten years ago when I walked you home after dealing with your bullies. I promised myself I would always protect and care for you. You’ve grown into such a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman, and I guess the feelings came somewhere along the way. I know that’s no excuse for the way I acted, and I understand if you never want to see me again, but I thought you should know.”

As soon as he finishes talking, he stands and starts to head towards the door. You are frozen in your spot, not being able to say anything as you let his words sink in. You see him take one final glance over his shoulder before sighing and reaching for your front door.

“Taemin, wait,” you seem to find your voice as you stand from the couch.

His hand drops back to his side from its position at the door handle as he turns to face you. You stare at each other from across the room until you start to slowly walk towards him. You stand before him, never breaking eye contact as you bring your hand up to caress his cheek. He leans into your touch, placing his hand over yours, as if scared you would pull your hand away too soon.

“Taemin,” you whisper his name as you notice the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. One makes its way down his cheek, and you wipe it away with your thumb. “I love you, too.”

As soon as he hears those words leave your lips, he leans in as if he’s about to kiss you, but he pulls away, as if he’s unsure if you want this or not. Sensing his hesitation, you meet his lips, letting him know you want this just as much as he does.

He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck. All the years of pent up frustration coming to the surface the longer the two of you kiss. The kiss quickly turning from sweet and timid, to passionate as you deepen the kiss. You both pull away from each other, breathless, eyes clouding over in lust before reattaching your lips together.

“Jump," you hear Taemin murmur against your lips and you comply, feeling his hands grip underneath your thighs as he carries you towards your room.

That night, Taemin makes love to you for the first time, holding you close as your bodies intertwine until the early hours of the morning.

You wake the next morning with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You watch how the morning light dances across his features, peaceful in his sleeping state. You smile and wonder how you ever got so lucky to have him always looking out for you.

His eyes flutter open and he’s met with your beautiful face first thing, causing a smile to appear on his lips. His arms tighten around you as he squeezes your waist, placing a kiss on your forehead, making you giggle, and he swears that it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“I thought last night was a dream,” he tells you. “I’m so glad it wasn’t.”

His words cause your heart to flutter in your chest and a small blush to make its way onto your face. You smile at him, “get used to it, cause now you’re stuck with me.”

“Good," he laughs, “because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The two of you spend the rest of the morning in bed, talking about anything and everything, enjoying each other’s company.

“You know my enlistment is coming up,” Taemin says after a while. You nod your head.

He’s mentioned it before, and how excited he is to finally be able to be in the military. He's told you countless times how much he wants to help people, and how he’ll finally be able to when he’s in the military. You're happy that he gets to live his dream, but now you know his absence is going to take a bigger toll on you than you originally thought. It’s okay though, you still have a few months before he leaves.

The months before his departure are spent together, doing whatever you can. The countless dates where he takes you to the movies or to a fancy dinner. All the walks underneath the stars are that much more special, knowing he leaves soon. Your relationship blossoming into something pure and beautiful, sheltering the both of you from the harshness of reality in your state of bliss. The nights spent whispering quiet ‘I love you’s with bodies intertwined between sheets. Everything becoming that much more special, and all because of him.

The day of his departure comes all too soon, reminding you of how little time the two of you have actually spent together as a couple.

“I’ll be back sooner than you think,” he promises, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight.

“I know,” you say into his chest, fighting to keep your voice steady. “You better call and write whenever you can.”

“I promise I will,” he says while pulling away from you to hold you at arm’s length. “I love you, (Y/n), never forget that.”

The way he looks at you, eyes full of sincerity, and love, makes the tears you are so desperately trying to hold back fall freely from your eyes. You grab his hands and hold them in yours.

“I love you, Taemin,” you reply, meaning every single word that comes from your mouth.

You see a ghost of a smile appear on his lips, squeezing your hands in his. He pulls you in for one final kiss before he leaves. He pulls away from you and makes his way to the car that has come to pick him up. He glances back at you one last time before he enters the vehicle, a stray tear falling down his own cheek.

You enter back into your apartment after watching the car disappear down the street, all of a sudden feeling really nauseous. You figure it’s the amount of emotions you’re currently feeling mixed with the fact that you haven’t eaten anything today. You go to lay down on the couch until you’re rushing to the bathroom to empty what little contents you have in your stomach.

You clean yourself up and go to lay down for a bit, hoping you’ll feel better in a few hours. You're expecting to get your period soon, so you figure on top of everything that's happening, you’re probably also PMSing, although it’s never been this bad before.

Days pass, yet you never get your period. You think that it’s weird since you’re usually never late, but you have been getting sick every morning for the past week. Your eyes widen in realization as you grab your jacket to head to the pharmacy.

About an hour later, you're sitting on your bathroom counter, waiting for the results of the pregnancy tests you’ve used. You did two just to be sure. You pick them up and both of them show a small plus sign. They both fall out of your hand and onto the floor as you stare wide-eye at where they were once held in your hand. A smile breaks out onto your face as you realize what this means. You're pregnant.

You run to your room to grab the first letter Taemin has sent to you so far. He says he prefers the letters since there’s something about writing them that makes it more intimate and special. He tells you how he plans to write every week to keep you updated on what he’s doing.

You grab a piece of paper and begin to write a letter back, but stop in the middle of the first paragraph. You decide to not tell him about how you’re pregnant just yet, instead opting to say you have a surprise for him that he can see the first time he gets time off, if he gets time off.

The next few letters that are sent are short, yet sweet. In them, he explains what they’re making him do and mainly how much he misses you and how he can’t wait to see you again. Occasionally he asks about this surprise you have for him but you keep your resolve and hold off on telling him what it is, stating that he’ll just have to see for himself.

Three months have now past and you’re starting to show the early signs of pregnancy, including a small bump that’s growing everyday. You patiently await the letter you know is supposed to arrive any minute now. Eventually, the mail is delivered and you open his letter, excited to see what it says.

Your happy expression quickly morphs into one of worry as you read the contents of his letter. He’s being deployed to an active war zone in two weeks time, and his letters are now going to have to be cut down to every two weeks, due to safety concerns. Again, he inquires as to what his surprise is.

As soon as you finish reading his letter, you get to work writing one back. Letting him know how you’re doing and how proud of him you are. You don’t say too much this time, other than the typical ‘I love you’, not being able to express what you’re feeling into words, but it’s clear in the tone of the letter how concerned you are for him.

A week later you get a response from him, telling you not to worry and that he’ll make sure to come back to you in one piece. He lets you know how much he loves you, and that the next letter you should get will be in three weeks.

Those next three weeks feel like hell, not hearing from him. You manage to power through them, making sure you go to all of your doctor’s appointments and scheduled meetings. You worry every second that something bad has happened to him, even though you know his letter should be coming soon.

The day his letter is supposed to come, you do not receive it. You start to worry, calling your closest friend to convey your worries. They reassure you that the mail was probably delayed a day, as that is common, especially for the military post.

Sure enough, the next day his letter arrives in the mail. He updates you on how he is, not going into much detail since the letter seems rushed, as if he didn’t have the proper time to write it. In his letter, he does let you know that he’ll be able to visit you after he gets back from his deployment. You place your hand over your ever growing stomach in worry, a habit you’ve picked up since your stomach started showing signs of pregnancy.

You send him your letter the next day, making sure to include a more recent picture of you in it. You hint at what the surprise is in your letter, as if the picture isn’t enough information on its own.

The next week passes fairly quickly, and you feel relaxed, as if you know everything will be okay. You're happy to know he should be back home with you in a few weeks time, and his next letter should be arriving any day now.

Except it doesn’t.

You reassure yourself that the post is just delayed like last time, and that his letter should come within the next few days. You wait patiently for the mail each day, but each day that passes without a letter from him makes you worry more and more.

It’s closing in on a week since you were supposed to receive his last letter and you’re starting to lose sleep worrying over what has happened to him.

The next day you hear a knock come from your door. You get up from your position on the couch and make your way to the door. Once you open it, you see an unfamiliar man standing with his back turned to you. You clear your throat and the man turns towards you, holding something in his hands.

“Excuse me, but are you Ms. (Y/n) (L/n)?” He asks. You just nod your head in response. “I regret to inform you that Private Lee Taemin has been killed in action while deployed in an active war zone. These are his final possessions which are to be given to the person stated on his will.”

He hands you what he has been holding in his hands, which is an envelope. He salutes to you, giving you a somber nod, then turns to walk down the hall. You stand frozen in your doorway, not believing what you’ve just heard.

No, this can't be. He can’t be dead.

You manage to close the door to your apartment and make your way to your kitchen table to sit down. No tears escape your eyes, feeling too numb to express any type of emotion. You open the envelop that contains his letter, and pull out four things. The first thing is the picture of you you had sent him in your last letter, the second, a diamond ring, the third being his dog tags. The fourth and final thing is a letter. You place the ring on top of the picture with the dog tags, unfold the letter and start to read.

Dear (Y/n),

If you’re reading this, well, it means I'm dead. God, it feels weird just writing that. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to write here, as I don't plan on dying anytime soon, but it’s protocol.

I guess I should start off by telling you how much I love you. I love the way your smile can light up an entire room, and how you tap your fingers together when you’re nervous about something. I think I'll miss that the most, or the way you’d always roll your eyes at me every time I’d make a shitty pun. I love the way you look at things, and how much you’ve grown and matured as a beautiful women ever since we were young. I’ve never regret my decision of stepping in that day to protect you from those bullies, and I’d do it a million more times if it meant being able to be with you again and see you smile.

I’ll be honest with you, I’m planning to ask you to marry me the next time we see each other, hence the diamond ring. It was my grandmother’s and she told me to give it to a special someone when I am ready. Well, (Y/n), I’m ready. I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you, and start a family together. I can’t wait to have little one’s running around, calling you mom, I can picture it now.

I love you so much, please don’t ever forget that. Even if one day you have a family of your own without me, know I will always be with you. I will never forget you. You will always be my first love.

Your Soldier,

Taemin.

[helveticabrown]

Hair of the Chernabog - Swan Queen fic

Title: Hair of the Chernabog

Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills

Rating: T

Words: 2,523

Summary:  After a big night of fun, Emma's left with two mysteries. One: why is Regina so pissed at her? And two: how does Regina not have the hangover to end all hangovers?

Emma was awoken by the sound of Henry’s elephantine feet clomping around somewhere above her. In the last few months, he’d seriously shot up, and the shrimpy little kid she’d met a few years ago had been replaced by an awkward, gangly teenager who wasn’t quite at home with how he and his body fit into the world. The result had been a transformation from quiet and stealthy to loud, graceless and occasionally obtrusive. Like right now. He was still the best kid in the world, even if she did kind of want to strangle him so she could keep sleeping.

She cracked an eyelid and winced as the light hit her eyes, quickly closing them and burying her head in the crook of her elbow. Her head was throbbing, and her tongue felt like she’d been licking carpet, and not in a good way. She dimly registered that she was not in her own bed; instead, she was curled up on the sofa in Regina’s living room.

The loud footsteps receded for a moment and she tried to pretend that she wasn’t awake for a little bit longer, in the hopes that her hangover would get bored and move on. That plan was ruined by the resident teenage elephant loudly walking into the room. Emma felt the vibration of each footfall as an ice-pick driving into her skull.

“Mom thought you might need some aspirin.”

Emma groaned. “What I need is to be allowed to die in peace.”

“What you need is to stop lying on my sofa like a decaying corpse.”

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She hadn’t noticed Regina coming into the room and for a moment she thought about ignoring her. Eventually, though, she succumbed to the temptation to open an eye, only to find Regina standing, hands on hips, glaring at her.

“Not my fault your cider is deadly,” Emma mumbled. She would have liked to have thought up a slightly more assured comeback, but considering she probably still had more alcohol than blood in her veins at this point, that would have to do.

Regina wrinkled her nose. “You smell like a sack of apples left in the sun too long. Go home and have a shower.”

Emma squinted at Regina uncomprehendingly. Her memories of the previous evening were, admittedly, rather fuzzy at this point. However, from what little she could put together, she was almost certain that Regina had drunk at least as much as she had. And yet, Regina looked far too put together for someone who probably would have drunk the entire crew of the Jolly Roger under the table last night.

“How are you even alive right now?” It seemed particularly unfair that Regina did not seem to be suffering even just a little bit.

“Perhaps, unlike certain people, I actually know my limits,” Regina said, her tone harsh in a way Emma couldn’t remember hearing directed towards her in a long time.

Emma looked beseechingly at Henry in the hopes that she might find at least a little sympathy from someone. He shrugged, as if to say she was on her own, but handed her the aspirin anyway.

She sighed and dragged herself off the sofa, grumbling the whole way.

Emma slid into a booth at Granny’s, one as far away from the windows and any form of light, natural or otherwise, as she could find.

“I’ll have a bacon sandwich with extra bacon and no bread.”

The waitress – Joan according to her name tag – gave her a vapid, slightly puzzled smile. “But that’s not on the menu?”

Emma sighed. She missed Ruby; she would never have questioned the order of a hung-over sheriff. Granny’s had seriously gone downhill since Ruby had left Storybrooke to follow her passion for hydroponics.

Emma peered balefully at Joan over the top of her sunglasses. “Listen. I don’t normally believe in abusing my position, but today…” Emma flashed her badge. “Today I will make an exception. I need bacon and I don’t care if you have to kill one of the three little pigs to get it.”

Joan was still standing beside her table with a vacant look on her face. “But it’s not on the…”

Emma snatched the notepad and pencil from Joan’s hands before she could finish. She didn’t have the patience for this today. She scribbled down her order and thrust the notepad back into Joan’s hands.

“Just give this to Granny. She’ll understand.”

Her order came out quickly; Granny obviously recognised the risk a hungover Sheriff posed to her customers and wait-staff. Stomach safely lined with bacon, Emma decided to get on with the very important job of puzzling out why Regina suddenly seemed angry at her.

It made no sense. As far as she could tell, she and Regina had been getting on like a house on fire last night. She’d even managed to convince Regina to sing karaoke at The Rabbit Hole. That much she definitely knew; Mulan – the traitor – had uploaded the footage on YouTube and shared it on Facebook.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Regina was angry about Emma’s involvement in her public embarrassment. Not that it had been particularly embarrassing; Regina’s singing voice, even after the better part of a bottle of wine was exactly as good as Emma had expected it to be.

Emma shook her head and instantly regretted it. No, the timeline didn’t fit. Mulan’s post had only gone up half an hour ago and Regina had been shirty with her the moment she’d woken up. Emma had long ago learned to rely on gut instinct and in that moment her gut was telling her two things. One, perhaps that much bacon had, in fact, been a bad idea and two, there was a mystery here, a mystery far deeper and more profound than the karaoke machine at The Rabbit Hole only having Kylie Minogue songs.

The day was full of mysteries and there were at least two she was determined to get to the bottom of: why Regina was angry and how she’d managed to beat a hangover that Emma was sadly very much still in the throes of. 

She decided that it was time to put her detective skills to full use. She’d start by canvassing the witnesses to the previous evening, then interviewing friends and family. Finally, she’d turn her attention to the lady in question; she’d learned from bitter experience that Regina was an incredibly slippery customer and that it was best not to confront her until she had a little more evidence in hand.

It was three o’clock and she was still feeling beyond awful. All of her investigations had come to nothing. Even Mulan hadn’t been able to offer anything more, beyond teasing her about hangover and then how desperately smitten she’d seemed with Regina all night. That certainly wasn’t news to Emma; her feelings for Regina had long since overshot friendly and were well on their way to being hopelessly in love. But maybe that was it. Maybe that was what Regina had picked up on.

There was a time when she would have just headed home and gone to sleep rather than facing things and right now, every inch of her aching, hungover body was screaming at her to do just that. But she and Regina had let too many misunderstandings, too many resentments, simmer and burn between them over the years and now, when it had finally felt like they were in a good place, Emma couldn’t stand to leave this one to reduce them to ruins.

“What do you want, Emma?” The faint hope that she’d been imagining Regina’s anger evaporated when Regina answered the door. She stood there, arms folded, and eyes hard in a way Emma couldn’t remember seeing in a long time.  

“I was kind of hoping you could teach me whatever spell you used to get rid of your hangover.” Emma trailed after Regina into the house, wincing as a spear of pain lanced its way through her eye. “I mean, I’m up for just about anything at this point. I’d even consider selling my soul to Rumplestiltskin if that was what it took.”

Regina didn’t say anything, just continued to regard her unsympathetically.

“Also, I was kind of wondering why you seem so pissed at me.”

Regina’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You don’t remember?”

She shook her head.

“Fine.”

Regina waved her hand, shoving a vial of something murky and unappealing at her a moment later. “Drink it,” she said. She pressed her lips together, a picture of irritation, and then added, “And you can keep your soul.”

Emma eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Hair of the Chernabog. Best hangover cure in all of the Enchanted Forest,” Regina said, her voice still brisk.

Emma hoped that the name was some kind of play on words, although judging by the look of it, the ingredients were probably at least as awful as she imagined. “I guess I did say I’d try anything.”

She pulled a face as the potion hit her tongue. It was oily and faintly rancid-tasting and she was beginning to believe that the cure was far, far worse than the disease. But Regina, standing in front of her looking impeccable, albeit impeccably irritated, was the proof that this vile liquid was actually as miraculous as it was promised to be. She swallowed, trying not to gag, difficult though it was with her already roiling stomach.

She managed to hold it down and within moments she felt clarity return, the insistent pounding of her head fading into a dull ache and then nothing at all. And with that clarity came memories of the previous evening, flooding back in vivid colour.

She replayed the events of the previous evening in her mind, searching for a clue, for anything that might help her understand why Regina was suddenly so cold and distant.

Regina stood watching her, arms folded. “Do you remember?”

She wracked her brains, desperate for an answer, but she kept coming up blank. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

“You can’t apologise for something you don’t even remember,” Regina said, her voice flat.

“What did I do?”

Regina stared at her for long moments, leaving her stewing, before relenting. “It’s not what you did, it’s what you said.”

Emma frowned, still unable to remember. But Regina hadn’t finished. “I told you how grateful I was for your friendship. And you said–”

“–I don’t want to be your friend.” She closed her eyes. And there it was, a fragment of memory, foggy and indistinct, dangling above the precipice of drunken slumber.

She opened her eyes again and Regina’s lips were a hard, angry line, stark and resolute. But her eyes were telling a different story, wounded and uncertain, the muscles at the corners of them twitching, a tiny clue to the turmoil within.

She understood, and now that she did she was unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up.

“I don’t see what’s funny,” Regina snapped. “Never, even when we were enemies, did I think you could be this cruel. I guess I was wrong.”

The raw hurt in Regina’s voice was sobering enough to help her get her laughter under control. There hadn’t been any genuine humour in it; instead, it had been born of a kind of horrified disbelief that a misunderstanding that small could snowball into something so devastating.

“What I said was true, but not quite in the way you understood it to mean.”

Regina stared at her uncomprehendingly and Emma realised that even stone-cold sober she was kind of lousy at this. “What I’m trying to say is that was only half the story. There was more I wanted to say, but apparently I can’t hold my liquor quite as well as I thought I could.”

“That point is hardly in dispute,” Regina said. “Though I still don’t see where the rest of this clumsy excuse for an explanation is going.”

Emma sighed. It seemed like she was making a huge mess of this and she was reminded of the reason she usually didn’t attempt serious confessions without the aid of enough alcohol to sink a battleship. “I’m trying.”

“You are. Very trying indeed.”

Emma snorted. “You can do better than that.”

“I know,” Regina said, her voice soft, and the thought of Regina without a razor-sharp comeback primed on her lips was, to Emma, the saddest thing of all, because that had always been the one comforting constant in their relationship.

She took a deep breath, determined to get everything out this time. She wished she’d rehearsed what she wanted to say, but she’d never been good at making speeches or even writing them.

“There are things you make me feel. Not friendly feelings, more like soft, gooey, ice-cream left in the sun kind of feelings. And there are things I want with you, things that…”

As comprehension began to dawn on Regina’s face, Emma faltered. She hadn’t really thought through what might happen if Regina didn’t have a place in her life for a messy, melty ice-cream puddle like herself. Even still, she steeled herself to continue.

“…there are things that I’ve always hoped, but never really believed were possible. And maybe they’re not. But I guess what I’m saying is I like you.” And then, in a whisper, “Maybe more than like you.”

As Emma finally ran out of steam, there was an ‘oh’ from Regina, barely more than a startled exhalation.

There was a moment when all of Emma’s worst fears were realised, a moment when Regina stood, unspeaking, almost expressionless, as if frozen in time. Emma smiled tightly, and unable to look at Regina any longer, she said, “I’m sorry, Regina. I won’t bother you anymore,” and turned to leave.

“Wait.” Regina’s command rang out clear as a bell and then there was a hand at her shoulder, compelling her to turn around.

She opened her mouth, about to ask what Regina wanted, only to find herself silenced by the press of Regina’s fingers against her lips.

She stood, her heart beating like a dubstep track, as Regina watched her with wide, hopeful eyes.

“No more words,” Regina whispered–a little unnecessarily Emma thought given she was almost certainly incapable of speech at this point–before trailing her fingers down to cup Emma’s jaw. And then there was the press of Regina’s lips, gentle and expressive, against her own and the closest approximation to speech Emma could manage was to moan into Regina’s mouth. And really, Emma thought, words were definitely over-rated when there was this, when there was the sweetness of Regina’s lips and the silk of her hair and the softness of her body pressed against her own.

She lost herself in a place where words, thoughts even, held no power until finally, they both came up for air. Her heart still pounding and her breath coming quick, she felt herself melt at the sight of Regina, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed.

“You were saying?” Regina breathed. And Emma shook her head, leaned in and kissed her again.