#HIM CLAPPING AFTER HE FINISHES DRUMMING

[headdinthewall]

READING CONTENT ── a.frederick ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : in which arthur’s girlfriend is a booktok influencer a/n : i rlly think arthur’s girlfriend would be just as nerdy&geeky as him, so a bookworm girl seems perfect (this is kind of just an excuse for me to rant about boys of tommen lolol) content : established relationship ,, arthur being an A* bf ,, boys of tommen spoilers

─────── HAVING JUST FINISHED the first two books from the Boys of Tommen series, you decided to make a little TikTok expressing your opinions on it, adding to your growing collection of book reviews.

You were sat cross-legged in front of the sofa in the apartment living room. Arthur sat behind you, a PlayStation controller in his hands, making those satisfying clicking noises that you loved.

You set your phone up against the flower vase on the centre of the coffee table, the books sat in your lap.

"Hi everyone!" You waved enthusiastically at the camera while talking with a chirp in your tone, "For those of you who have been following for a while, you'll know that earlier this month, Arthur bought me the Boys of Tommen series, and now after reading Binding and Keeping 13, I can successfully say that it is one of my favourite series. Before I really start, I just wanted to show off my new nails!"

You smiled, wiggling your fresh nail set in front of the phone, "Aren't they so cute?"

"Guess who payed for them?" Arthur piped in, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

"Yes, guys, Arthur paid for them, and he won't let it go." You rolled your eyes with fake exasperation.

"And I—"

"And he helped pick the design." You added before he could get it in.

"I'm just so amazing and have the best taste in nail designs." Arthur shrugged, "Who thinks she should get astrology nails next?"

"Yeah, sure, and then I'll post them as promo for your podcast." You added sarcastically.

He gasped excitedly, a large grin on his face, "Would you really?"

You turned around, blinking up at him, "Would you want me to?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, maybe I will. Anyway!" You clap, holding the books up to show the camera, "Back to the review of today, Binding and Keeping 13."

While you rambled on and on about the adorable intimacy that was Johnny and Shannon's relationship, Arthur continued his game of FIFA, the clicking of his remote providing background noise.

"Shannon is just the sweetest little angel baby, and Johnny is . . . wow. Where do I even start with that man? He's just the standard blue-print of what to expect in a man."

"I can't believe you're gushing over a man in front of me." Arthur tutted, shaking his head.

"Gushing?!" You gaped at him.

"Is that not the right word?" He chuckled.

"Do you mean flushing?!"

"That's not the right word to use, at all." Arthur argued, pausing his game and picking up his phone to search it.

"I swear it is."

Arthur turned his phone around, smugly shrugging and smirking, "Told you. Considering you read a lot, your lack of knowledge on words is shocking."

You rolled your eyes and snatched his phone out of his hand, shoving it down your tank top, "Considering you talk a lot, your lack of comprehensible sense is shocking."

"Ooo, big word." He teased, reaching down and tickling you until his phone fell out of your shirt from you writhing.

"Stop!" You screeched, laughing, "I'm trying to film my book review!"

He eventually stopped and took his phone back, returning to his game.

"As I was saying, before Mr TV turned my book review into couples content," You said, "Johnny Kavanagh is a perfect man with 0 flaws— actually, his impulsive actions and 'bulldozing' would intimidate and scare me."

Arthur closed his eyes, doing the Gromit hands and pretending to see things, "I can see the edits in my head already."

"Did you see the one to that song? 'Bout you?" You hummed, nails drumming on the book cover of Binding13.

"Yeah, I reposted it." He nodded, lifting his foot and putting his big toe in your ear.

"Arthur!" You groaned, slapping his foot away. "Let me finish my video!"

"Okay." He sighed dramatically, pouting and tucking his chin to his chest.

You ignored his dramatic behaviour and kept talking, "Overall, I would give Binding and Keeping 13 a . . . 9/10."

"Perfect score." Arthur whispered into his chest.

"I definitely enjoyed Keeping 13 more, because I like seeing the couple content more than the 'chase' I guess you could call it. But, yeah, Johnny is so hot. He's 6'5 and treats Shannon like she's a queen, which every woman deserves."

"Just describe me, why don't you." Arthur joked, throwing a hand out in a 'brushing off' way.

"You are not 6'5." You scoffed, "You're 5'10."

"Point eight." He added with a finger in the air.

"Cheers," You huffed, "Anyways, guys, thank you for watching. Once I read Saving and Redeeming 6, I'll do another review and hopefully it equates on the same standard as Johnny and Shannon. Bye."

"Bye." Arthur puts on his outro voice.

You stop recording and sit back up on the couch beside him, going through the video and adding text when necessary and cutting things you didn't want and sections where you rambling too much.

You decided to keep the clips with Arthur in, knowing it would attract a good bit of attention from his fans and your fans and the editing community would eat it up.

You laid on your front across his lap, stomach resting on his thighs and elbows supporting your upper body as you tapped on your phone.

You kicked your feet back and forth, one of Arthur's hands holding one of them and the other swapping through the channels on the TV.

user1 they're the cutest omg ↳ youruser thank you! user2 THE GROMIT HANDS user3 girl ... get ur tissues ready for saving and redeeming 6 ↳ youruser i already used them all in these books :( user4 arthur funding her lifestyle is so goals user5 how is he so comfortable letting her talk about guys like that? ↳ arthurtv because i'm not insecure and he's fictional lol user6 i aspire to have a relationship like this. user7 you see how he doesn't care when she takes his phone? very secure. very loving.

[luvly-writer]

Aretia: My one and only

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

The room in Riorson Estate’s war hall had long since emptied of strategy maps and rebellion plans for the night. Instead, the squad lingered in the quiet warmth of flickering lanterns and low voices, seated around mismatched chairs, mugs of caf or wine in hand. The war had slowed just enough to allow them this moment of breath. Of being.

Xaden leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, jaw tense like he’d been biting back a thought for days.

It was Garrick who broke the silence. “You look like you’re about to combust. Just say it.”

“I’m not combusting,” Xaden muttered.

Rhiannon raised a brow. “You kind of are. You’ve been brooding harder than usual. And that’s saying something.”

Even Violet chuckled, curled beside Brennan on one of the worn couches. Ridoc glanced up from his mug, one brow twitching with curiosity.

Xaden exhaled heavily. “I want to ask her to marry me.”

Silence fell like a dropped blade.

And then—chaos.

“Finally,” said Quinn, grinning. Imogen snorted. “Took you long enough.” Rhiannon actually clapped. “I knew that Tyrrish blouse thing meant something!”

“Shut up,” Xaden said flatly, though his ears turned a little red.

Sawyer leaned forward, earnest. “So what’s stopping you?”

Xaden’s fingers drummed against his arm. “Everything. The war. Her grief. The pressure. She’s only just started healing after losing her village. She’s rebuilding her life, her home. And she’s now a third-year rider, even if she acts like a general and a duchess. I don’t want to put another weight on her. Not when she’s given so much of herself already.”

There was a beat of quiet.

Then Ridoc, who hadn’t spoken, lifted his gaze. “My sister’s stronger than most commanders. And she’s happy with you. You’re not adding a weight—you’re offering her something safe. Something hers.”

“She’s already yours,” Violet added softly. “We all see it. And she knows it too.”

Brennan nodded. “You don’t need a perfect moment. They don’t exist, not in war. But love? Love gives people something to fight for. You know that better than anyone.”

Xaden looked down at the ring he’d been fidgeting with in his pocket all night—a smooth, black onyx band with a golden wave etched along its edge, like the beaches she’d grown up on.

“She makes things feel… lighter,” he admitted. “Even with everything falling apart, when she’s there, it feels like it won’t.”

Imogen smiled gently. “Then maybe it’s not about finding the right moment.”

“It’s about making it,” Garrick finished.

And for the first time in days, Xaden allowed himself a small smile.

Because maybe—just maybe—they were right.

Later that night, after the fire had died down and the group had begun to scatter toward their quarters, Garrick lingered behind with Xaden. The two were walking side by side down one of the quieter hallways of Riorson Estate, boots echoing softly on the stone floor.

“So,” Garrick said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets, “how many times have you rehearsed it?”

Xaden gave him a sharp look. “What?”

“The proposal.” Garrick smirked. “You’ve definitely practiced it. Probably in front of a mirror. Or to Sgaeyl.”

“I have not—” Xaden started, but then stopped, rubbing a hand over his face. “I hate you.”

“That’s not a denial,” Garrick singsonged.

Xaden growled under his breath. “I ran it once. Maybe twice. Doesn’t matter. It’s not even the right time.”

“Sure, sure. ‘Not the right time,’” Garrick repeated, exaggerated air quotes and all. “Meanwhile, you’re out here picking out rings with wave patterns and getting all misty-eyed when she braids your hair with Tyrrish ribbons.”

Xaden shot him a glare, but Garrick just laughed harder.

“Relax,” he said, clapping him on the back. “When you do it, she’s going to cry. Rhiannon’s going to cry. Hell, I’ll cry.”

“She’s not the only one who’s terrified,” Xaden admitted after a pause, quieter this time.

Garrick’s smirk softened into something more real. “That’s how you know it’s worth it.”

And Xaden just nodded, the image of Y/n smiling in his mind—sunlight on her skin, Tyrrish silks in her hair, Ceaelyan jewerly, eyes full of warmth and fire.

She was worth all the terrifying things in the world.

The sun was just beginning to dip low in the sky, painting the market in hues of gold and rose as Xaden and Y/n strolled between the stalls. The scents of baked sweetbread and spiced meats filled the air, mingling with the floral undertones of the wreaths some of the vendors were weaving. Y/n's hand was tucked easily into Xaden’s, her thumb drawing lazy circles over the back of his knuckles as she greeted vendors by name.

They passed a stand where one of the older bakers, a man with kind eyes and a flour-dusted apron, grinned broadly at the pair.

“Well, if it isn’t our furture duchess and her brooding shadow,” he teased. “You two better not elope without letting us throw a proper celebration.”

Before Xaden could even respond, another voice chimed in—one of the elder women who had taken a shine to Y/n the very first day. “We’d string up lights, get the band from over the ridge, bring out the gold-trimmed silk for her! It’d be the brightest day this war has seen in years.”

There were chuckles of agreement from the neighboring stalls, and even the children nearby began humming what sounded suspiciously like a wedding tune.

Y/n just laughed, her cheeks flushed but her eyes sparkling. “One day,” she said easily, the softness in her voice causing Xaden’s heart to trip. “I think I’d like that very much.”

She turned to look up at him, squeezing his hand with casual affection, unaware of the storm she’d just stirred inside him.

Because in that moment, as the villagers teased and toasted with imaginary cups, Xaden heard something else behind their words—hope. Hope they hadn’t dared to hold for so long. And all of it tied to her.

She smiled again and tugged him along to a stand selling silk ribbons dyed with sea-glass pigments, completely unaware that he was no longer just thinking about proposing.

He was planning it.

It would be soon.

Because it wasn’t just about what he felt anymore.

It was what she had given all of them. What she was.

Light.

A few nights later...

The stars scattered above them like spilled silver, the night quiet except for the gentle rustle of wind through the tall Tyrrish grass and the soft crackle of the fire Xaden had built by hand. They were tucked away behind the Riorson estate, near a secluded cliff that overlooked the moonlit valley. No guards. No war. No squad. Just the two of them and the sound of crickets echoing softly in the distance.

Y/n leaned against his chest, their blanket wrapped around both of them, the Tyrrish silk from the village tied loosely in her hair. She was relaxed in a way she hadn’t been in weeks—bare-faced, barefoot, and glowing with the kind of peace only he knew how to give her.

“This was a good idea,” she murmured, tilting her head up to look at him.

He kissed her temple. “You needed a night to just breathe.”

“We did,” she admitted. “And this is just that.”

He watched the flames reflect in her eyes for a moment longer, then stood slowly, holding out his hand. “Dance with me?” Just like she had done a few years ago under the rain. When she was just a first year and he was just her wingleader.

She laughed. “There’s no music.”

“There’s you. That’s more than enough.”

He pulled her into the soft grass, and they moved slowly together, swaying under the stars. Her laugh was breathy and quiet, her head eventually coming to rest on his shoulder again. And he knew—this was the moment.

Xaden stepped back gently, one hand still holding hers, and reached into his jacket with the other. Her brows furrowed in curiosity—until he dropped to one knee.

Y/n froze.

He looked up at her, his expression vulnerable, sure, but full of love.

“I’ve watched you grow into this fierce, kind, radiant force that people look up to—not just because you fight, but because you care. You’ve held my heart since the moment you dared to wink at me as you fixed your lipstick with a dagger as a mirror. You were fire and warmth and sunshine and steel all at once, and you’ve only become more. In every dark moment of me, you have shone light. In every cold corner, gifted me warmth. Loving you, Y/n Gamlyn, has been the easiest thing I have ever done and… I want to keep doing it for the rest of my life. I want to be your partner. In this war. In peace. In rebuilding what was lost. In every single moment that there is air in my lungs. I want a future with you. If you'll have me…”

He opened the small box. Inside was a ring crafted of rare black steel and ocean-blue stones—Tyrrish and Ceaelyan, both worlds woven into one.

She didn’t speak at first. Her eyes filled. Her lips trembled.

“You're serious?” she whispered.

Xaden gave a soft laugh. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, my love."

She sank to her knees in front of him, tears slipping down her cheeks as she nodded, and whispered, “Yes.”

He cupped her face with reverence, kissing her with all the devotion and quiet passion he had stored up over years of loving her. And under the stars, on a quiet night carved just for them, Xaden Riorson asked Y/n Gamlyn to be his wife—and she said yes.

The next morning, the Squad gathered in their usual training courtyard, weapons lazily slung over shoulders, post-breakfast sluggishness still clinging to most of them. Garrick and Quinn were mock-sparring, Imogen sat cross-legged stretching, and Rhiannon was attempting to braid Bodhi’s hair as he muttered about losing a bet. Violet and sawyer quietly talked as she wrapped her knee.

Xaden and Y/n strolled in hand-in-hand, and it took only a moment for Rhiannon to notice the subtle glint of a ring on Y/n’s finger.

Her gasp was loud and immediate. “No. You didn’t—?”

Y/n bit her lip, grinning as she held up her hand. “We did.”

The reaction was instant.

Rhiannon and Violet practically tackled her with a squeal, followed by a chorus of whoops, exclamations, and a loud “About time!” from Imogen. Garrick pulled Xaden into one of those rough, brotherly hugs that involved a few slaps on the back, and Bodhi looked genuinely misty-eyed as he muttered something about “finally, some good news.”

Then came Ridoc.

He burst through the crowd, dramatically pushing past Imogen, Sawyer, and Quinn as if the moment required a grand stage entrance.

“I—I need a moment,” he declared, placing a hand to his chest like he’d been winded by the announcement. “My twin—my fierce, dagger-wielding, heartbreakingly stunning twin—is getting married. To the broodiest man in the continent.”

“Ridoc…” Y/n warned through a laugh.

“No, no, don’t stop me, this is important,” he continued, wiping a fake tear. “I’ve known this day would come since the moment Xaden looked at her like she hung the stars. And now, dear squad, I insist on a toast!”

“We don’t have drinks,” said Bodhi.

Ridoc held up two canteens from his bag. “I planned ahead.”

He passed them around, and with overexaggerated flair, climbed onto the bench.

“To Y/n and Xaden,” he declared, raising his canteen like a goblet, “for giving us something bright to look forward to amidst the darkest of days. May your love be as fierce as your tempers, and your wedding not be interrupted by Venin.”

The squad laughed and echoed his toast, clinking metal canteens together, the courtyard echoing with warmth and joy.

And in that rare moment of peace, surrounded by laughter, teasing, and the people they trusted most, Y/n and Xaden felt the weight of the world grow just a little lighter.

Later that day, word of Y/n and Xaden’s engagement spread through like wildfire, not just in Aretia, but in Ceaelyn too. When they had gone to do the weekly check up in Ceaelyn, they were pleasantly surprised. The people of the town, many of whom had seen her grow, both as a child and as a woman, began planning a small but heartfelt celebration to honor their union. Though the threat of war still loomed, there was a lightness to the day, a sense of community that had been rare in recent times.

The villagers—men and women, young and old—set up makeshift stalls with colorful ribbons, Tyrrish silks, and baskets of fruits. The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling meats filled the air, mingling with the sound of children laughing and the rhythmic clatter of utensils as the local cooks prepared their food.

Y/n and Xaden stood at the center of it all, surrounded by the familiar faces of the townspeople who had fought so hard to keep this place alive. The elder women who had once fawned over Y/n now beamed with pride as they offered her Tyrrish delicacies and handmade trinkets, as if to show their approval of the woman who would marry their heir.

“Congratulations, my dear,” an elderly woman said, clasping Y/n’s hands between her own. “We’ve all been waiting for this.”

Y/n laughed, feeling both shy and honored by the attention. “Thank you, it means the world to me.”

Xaden stood by her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, though he, too, smiled at the warmth surrounding them. He had never felt quite so at home in a place. Y/n’s village, even after all they’d been through, had something special—something that made him feel, for the first time in his life, like he could belong here too.

As the evening went on, music played, and people danced, some performing Ceaelym folk dances while others simply joined in the joy. Y/n and Xaden were surrounded by laughter, joy, and hope—a stark contrast to the war that raged beyond their walls.

At one point, the village’s leader made a speech, raising a glass of wine in honor of the couple. “May you be the light that guides us through the darkness ahead. Together, you give us a reason to hope.”

The crowd cheered, and the celebration continued long into the night.

As the village celebration wound down, Y/n slipped away for a moment of peace, finding her twin leaning against a tree just outside the festivities. Ridoc’s arms were crossed, a small but knowing smile on his face as he saw her approach.

“Need a break?” he asked, his voice warm with familiarity.

Y/n nodded, sinking down beside him. For a moment, neither of them said anything. They just listened to the distant hum of the celebration and the quiet rustle of the trees in the breeze.

“You know,” Ridoc said after a long pause, his tone light but carrying an undertone of something more serious, “I never thought I’d see the day. You, a duchess.”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes but grinning. “Don’t start.”

“No, seriously,” Ridoc continued, his voice softening. “I’m proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. But you’ve always had that fire in you—ever since we were kids.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling the weight of everything, the love, the loss, and the hope she was trying to hold onto. “I didn’t think I’d end up here, you know?” she admitted quietly. “Some days, it feels so surreal. But with Xaden... everything feels right.”

Ridoc’s smile softened. “Good. You deserve it, Y/n. You and Xaden both. I know I’ve given him hell, but... I’ve seen how much he cares for you. You’ve both come a long way.”

Y/n chuckled. “That’s an understatement.”

“You two,” Ridoc added with a mock dramatic sigh, “are the perfect pair.”

Y/n playfully punched him in the arm, and Ridoc laughed, giving her a knowing look. “But seriously, it’s not just about the wedding. It’s what you’ve done for this place, for all of us. You’re the light in the darkness, Y/n. Never forget that.”

She smiled, feeling her heart swell with both pride and gratitude. “I’m glad you’re still here, Ridoc. You’ve always been my anchor.”

“And you’re mine,” he replied with a quiet smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Now, let’s go back before the village gets too carried away. They might start planning the wedding tomorrow.”

Y/n laughed, standing up with him, and the two made their way back to the celebration, where laughter, love, and the promise of a bright future awaited.

That night...

The candlelight flickered softly, casting gentle shadows across the room as Y/n and Xaden sat on the bed, a quiet moment of peace between them. The festivities outside had died down, and the noise from the village celebration had given way to a comforting silence. The weight of the day was finally lifting, and they were left alone, basking in the stillness of their shared space.

Xaden leaned back, his head resting against the headboard, his eyes on Y/n, who was still glowing with the joy of the evening. She met his gaze, her smile as radiant as it had been since he proposed, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, wrapped in a moment of happiness they had both longed for.

Y/n’s fingers absently played with the edge of her sleeve as she looked at him, a grin spreading across her face. “You know, it still doesn’t feel real,” she said, her voice light and teasing.

Xaden raised an eyebrow, shifting closer. “What doesn’t feel real?”

“This,” she gestured between them, the air charged with the weight of the moment. “Us. Being engaged. You’re my fiancé now.”

His eyes twinkled, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I can’t believe it either,” he admitted, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re my fiancée... and we're actually getting married.”

The two of them exchanged a wide-eyed look, and then, in an instant, the reality of it all hit them both. They burst into laughter, the sound ringing out through the room, genuine and full of joy. The kind of laughter that felt like freedom, like they could finally exhale after everything they’d been through.

Xaden leaned forward, grinning as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing over her skin. “You’re actually going to marry me. How the hell did I get so lucky?”

Y/n’s laughter died down, but her smile only grew wider, if possible. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she teased, leaning into his touch. “We’re getting married, Xaden. It’s crazy.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “I never imagined this would happen. But now that it’s here... I don’t want to waste a single moment. I want every second with you.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered, her hand finding his, holding it tightly. “We’re in this together. Every step of the way.”

He laughed again, this time quieter, his expression softening. “It’s still surreal. But I know one thing for sure... I’m never letting you go.”

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his, a kiss filled with all the love they had built together over the years, all the laughter and the joy they had shared.

As they pulled away, Y/n couldn’t stop herself from giggling, still in awe of the situation. “You know... we’re engaged,” she repeated, a silly grin spreading across her face.

Xaden chuckled, wrapping his arms around her as he pulled her close. “Oh I know. And it feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They sat there in the stillness, laughing together, the future ahead of them wide open and full of promise.

Author's note: This takes a year later after last chapter. The Basgaith saga is Y/n's first year. The Aretia saga is her second year and this chapter is continuing to her third.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life @profoundpizzasong @laterria201 @bestillmystuckyheart @casiiopea2

[torchlitinthedesert]

Charley Foxx, Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder at the Scotch of St James club, 1966.

“When on tour I have to write essays about the places I visit. In the essay I’ll be writing when I get back I’ll certainly include my meeting with Paul McCartney. I met him in the Scotch Of St James club. He’s a really swinging guy, the only Beatle I’ve met.”

15-year-old Stevie Wonder, NME, 18 February, 1966

“None of the Beatles was on hand for Stevie’s show at the Cavern, but Paul McCartney came to a show we did in London. After the final set, Stevie, Paul, Clarence [Paul, Stevie’s producer] and I sat around acting like a proverbial mutual admiration society - Paul going on and on about how the Beatles loved rhythm and blues and how they all admired Stevie’s music and the Motown sound; the rest of us quizzing him about the “Fab Four”. it was the only time in all my years of working alongside the greatest singers and musicians in the world that I ever asked for an autograph, which earned me major points with my sisters Joan and Diane.”

Ted Hull (Stevie’s tutor), The Wonder Years: my life and times with Stevie Wonder, 2000

Braille message for Stevie (“We love you baby”) on the cover of Wings’ 1973 album Red Rose Speedway.

On the first night of recording, who should turn up at the studio door but Paul and Linda. It was the first time since the Beatles had broken up that John and Paul had been in the same room…They play. With Paul on drums, in the absence of Ringo and Keith Moon that night, and John picking up his guitar, soon to be joined by Stevie Wonder, they went into a jam of ‘Midnight Special’.

Ray Connolly, Being John Lennon A Restless Life

“I’ve always been an admirer from the early days when we first heard him as ‘Little’ Stevie Wonder with ‘Fingertips’. Then I met him on and off [for a few years] and went to his shows. Eventually, I asked him if we could record together ‘Ebony and Ivory’. I spent some time with him in Montserrat to make that record... He’s such a musical monster. You sit down with him at the piano immediately he’s off. I know some of his old stories so I can joke with him and take the mickey. He was originally ‘Steveland Morris’ and he was in a little blind school in Detroit. He was just one of the blind kids who happened to be musically gifted. He went to Motown to make ‘Fingertips’ and then he was famous. He came back as ‘Little Stevie Wonder’. So he once told me all the blind kids in the school used to call him [adopts mocking tone] ‘Wundurr’. They didn’t like him and were jealous of him. So now when I see him and if we pass in the corridor I say ‘Wundurr’ and he immediately knows it’s Paul.”

Paul McCartney, GQ Magazine, November 2012

Stevie and Paul in Montserrat, working on Tug of War, 1981.

“But, you know, he’s such a fantastic person to work with that you just go along with it. He’s worth it! He may not always show up when he says he will. Maybe he has got to finish this other album he’s doing, whatever. You just have to make a lot of allowances. He’s such a great musician. It’s all fine, in the end. When he eventually got there and started working, it was perfect. I thought, ‘Oh God, everything he does is perfect.’ I’m talking about even handclaps here… you know, just handclaps. I remember being just a little bit out on the handclaps. We were round a mic clapping, and he just went, ‘Hey Paul, stop! Hey man, you’re not in the pocket!’ And I’m going, ‘Okay, alright, I’m not in the pocket! Let’s get it in the pocket.’ On the Beatles records we weren’t that precise with handclaps! ‘In the pocket’ means being exactly on the beat. So Stevie is saying, ‘You’re not in the pocket, man!’ and I’m going, ‘Oh shit! Okay, let’s get it right!’ So we just worked at it until we got it. He’s very much the perfectionist.”

Paul McCartney, Tug of War Archive Collection, 2015

“Stevie came along to the studio in LA and he listened to the track for about ten minutes and he totally got it. He just went to the mic and within 20 minutes had nailed this dynamite solo. When you listen you just think, ‘How do you come up with that?’ But it’s just because he is a genius, that’s why.”

Paul on recording Only Our Hearts with Stevie in 2011.

Paul and Stevie during mixing for Kisses on the Bottom, 15 November 2011 source

[daniiiboo]

mv1- champion

summary- after the last vegas gp, you and max have a cute moment :,)

dani's thoughts- AHHH! sorry it took me so long to post this, my procrastination boooo :( but congrats to max!!! im so happy for him :D

warning- uh nu uh nothin :)

word count- 1139

Bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip shone through the night, casting colorful luminescence across the city. The neon signs and the hustle of the crowd seemed almost like a world of their own, but inside the race paddock, everything was laser-focused on one thing: Max Verstappen's chance at his fourth World Championship.

It was an intense weekend, the energy palpable in the air, with fans lining the grandstands, their eyes fixed on the Red Bull driver. You’d been by Max’s side throughout the season, traveling the globe, sharing in both the highs and lows of his journey. Tonight, it all came down to this. If he could finish strong and secure the points he needed, he’d be crowned World Champion once again.

You were in the paddock, your heart racing as the laps ticked down. Max had been flawless all weekend, his precision in qualifying, the strategy in the race. You could see it in his eyes. He was on the edge of greatness. The fourth title was within his grasp.

From your vantage point alongside the pit wall, the roar of the cars passing was barely audible, yet tension hung thick in the air. You saw Max flying past every lap as he overtook the others with his gliding Red Bull through corners. Each turn was proof of the amount of work and commitment he has been putting into this. The end of the race was close by. He had done it. Max Verstappen was going to win the 2024 Formula 1 World Championship. He had secured enough points to clinch the title with a race to spare, an achievement few drivers could boast. The whole Red Bull garage erupted into a chorus of cheers, but you didn't hear them, not really. The only sound one could hear was the beating of one's own heart, like a drum with excitement and pure pride.

When Max crossed the line with the checkered flag waved above him, time literally came to a standstill. It all felt like a dream-a surreal moment when the world stopped for the feat that was just accomplished by this driver. Suddenly, the radio crackled as his race engineer's familiar voice cut through, congratulating Max on his fourth World Championship.

Max let out a deep, heavy breath, and on his lips, a beaming smile formed. Not a celebrating-after-a-win smile, but something a bit deeper, something that had been earned.

A few moments later, Max pulled into the pits, his Red Bull team surrounding him, ecstatic, clapping him on the back. You stood there, frozen for a moment, watching him as he climbed out of his car. His face was hidden behind the helmet, but you could see the way his shoulders relaxed, a quiet relief washing over him.

And then, his eyes met yours.

And then there it was-the look so familiar yet so full of emotion, love, and gratefulness. He walked up to you while the people surrounding him chanted and cheered, but at this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you.

You stepped forward as he approached, your heart swelling with pride. You'd always believed in him, in his ability to be the best-but watching him win his fourth World Championship, standing right there in Las Vegas, made it all so real. The fact that you were here for the entire journey was what really hit you.

Max came to a stop right in front of you, yanking his helmet off to reveal wet hair and a tired, yet triumphant expression.

"Max," you whispered, your voice hoarse from emotion.

He didn't say a word, instead reaching for you, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands were trembling, a rare show of vulnerability for the usually composed driver.

“I did it,” he whispered, his voice full of awe. “I really did it. Four titles…”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, brushing your fingers gently across his face. “You’re incredible, Max. You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you.”

A smile stretched across his face, his eyes glowing with both joy and disbelief. “We did it together.”

You shook your head, laughing through the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“You did it, Max. You’re the one who put in the work, who never gave up, who fought through everything. I’m just… I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

Max chuckled, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

 "Lucky? I'm the lucky one. You've been by my side through every race, every challenge, every sleepless night. I couldn't have done it without you.”

There was something so grounding about Max in that moment. In the midst of celebrations, press, and flashing cameras, he remained the same old Max one had always known. He was humble, dedicated, and unyielding in his way to greatness. Yet what made him so special was how he never forgot the people who had been there to support him-especially you.

As the cheers from the Red Bull garage grew loud, you could feel the pull of the moment, the whirlwind of emotions, the feeling of watching history. The team swarmed around them, and Max turned back toward them, giving high-fives and accepting congratulations, but his hand was still in yours. His fingers were tangled with yours, holding onto you like he did not want to let go.

It was all happening so fast, and yet you were in no hurry. You would savor this moment, the moment when Max Verstappen became a four-time World Champion in Las Vegas, with you by his side.

As the celebrations had died down, and the crowd started to clear out, Max took your hand and led you out of the paddock. Above, the lights of Las Vegas shone brightly on the Strip, and with them, Max turned that very same smile to you.

"What do you say we head out and celebrate?" he asked, full of excitement, yet strangely quieted.

You smiled, knowing this moment would stick in your head forever. "I think we've earned it."

Max tightened his grip on your hand, leaned in to brush a kiss against your mouth, and then he'd take you out into the night, together, off to celebrate his win really like Max Verstappen style. The world had come to see his greatness-again-but you? Just there, sharing in this victory with the man that you loved.

And as you walked hand in hand down the streets of Las Vegas, all lit up, you could not help but feel your chest swell with pride. This was his moment, yes-but it was also yours, because in the end, it was about the journey that you have shared together.

Max Verstappen had his fourth title in the bag, and with you by his side, nothing was impossible.

[dead-dovediner]

Backstage Pass (!groomer Frank, Gerard x reader)

triggers/warnings: Use of Y/N, Undersage sex, Underage drinking, Unprotected sex, Rape, Dubious consent, Non consensual, Explicit details of rape, Exaggerated writing, Blow job (male and female recieving), Forced blow job, Fingering, Threesome, Swallowing, Soft gagging, Rough sex, Pedophilia, Grooming, Shared partners, Virginity losing, Virgin reader, Anything else that I missed in this mess of insanity

word count: 5278

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!!!!

The music was loud in the bar and tonight's band is preparing to perform. They are a new band in town and half of the whole place gathered in the small venue to party. You've been in the bar since it opened it's doors, sipping on a cocktail even though you're underage; the bartenders here don't really give a fuck, as long as you have the money, you could be 12 and they'll still serve you. 

So it was a lucky afternoon to be sweet 16. Your part-time job at Barnes & Nobles paid enough to last you all night. So while sipping on your drink you watched the 5 guys unpack and tune in their instruments. 

The singer is walking back and forth between his band mates to check up on them for the hundredth time. It seems like he's nervous but the truth is he's just drunk-ish. He had more drinks than you, and you've been here longer. Either way, it's almost 7PM and time for the show.

You stand from the bar counter and make your way to the front row. The band doesn't pay necessarily a lot of attention to you, but one of the guitarists gives you a smile and a nod. You return the kind gesture.

The clock hits o'clock and the manager shouts out to them to hurry the fuck up. They nod in unison and the bar's earlier music cuts out, the lights dim and the chatter slowly dissolves as the singer grabs the microphone from the stand, then he starts speaking but the mic doesn't pick up his voice.

You can see someone running to the control station and a few awkward moments pass but at last the microphone turns on. The singer starts his monologue again, this time his voice coming through the speakers.

"Hi! Uh- I'm Gerard, and this is My Chemical Romance. I'd like to-" The crowd erupts and claps from throughout the venue fills the place with cheers, cutting him off before he could finish what he wanted to say. He chuckles and shushes the crowd like we are all children.

"Shh shh- Thank you, thank you, but please let me introduce the members first. We have Ray Toro on guitar," He points to the man with curls around his face and a kind demeanor. The guy-Ray-plays a quick riff and the crowd cheers, then Gerard continues. "my brother Mikey; on the bass." He also points to the member he's talking about, the shy looking guy just gives a small side wave, he looks like he doesn't want to be here, but who knows. "Frank on the other guitar, and Matt on our drums."

"Okay let's get this going. Our first song is called 'Honey, this mirror isn't big enough for the two of us', have fun!" He announces and after a few seconds the intro to the song starts. The guitars chime into the early night and Gerard's unique voice soothes the song into something way more then just a song.

You gape up at the stage as the men before you create a hypnotic spell over you, and before you know you're nodding along to the beat, trying to mumble the lyrics. They are like no one ever was; it's new and different in the best way.

Time is technically nonexistent, the songs flow into each other and they keep coming. Each small break between the songs, Gerard chats with the crowd, his drunk-ish behavior way more noticeable; sometimes he even glances down to you and when you catch his eyes on yours he gives you one of those panty soaking smiles. A smile that makes even you shiver. No one ever had such an impact on you.

Probably from and because of the alcohol you consumed, but you're staring at him. Examining his soft features as he gulps down some water in one of the breaks between songs. Your eyes locked on his throat, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down as another mouthful of water gets swallowed by him. 

All the suddenly you feel hot, not just because the venue is small and filled, but because of Gerard. A small weird voice in the back of your mind is screaming "No! He's bad news! Don't.", however the alcohol in your system shushes it down to a soft almost silent whisper long forgotten; as your body gets more turned on than you knew it was possible.

Everything is slowed down and the music starts again, your head is dizzy but you're just smiling to yourself, jumping around to the powerful sounds of guitar. Freedom never felt better and your first thought is to get rid of your clothes since it's fucking hot inside. So you claw at the bottom of your top and with some struggle here and there you get rid of it. Letting it drop to the floor without a care in the world, leaving yourself in your low waisted pants and bra.

You continue the "dancing" and after a few songs you go back to the bar to order some more drinks because you're practically like the Sahara desert. The bartender slides the drinks to you as you grab some bills from your back pocket and you grab the drinks as he grabs the money.

You practically chug the drinks down, the alcohol in them not burning your throat anymore, instead it's just a pleasant aftertaste. After you're done finishing the drinks, the song comes to an end and Gerard announces the last song of the night.

"Tonight was a beautiful night. After the last song, the band will come meet some of y'all later. Don't forget to grab a CD of our debut album! Thank you to everyone who came to see us tonight! This is 'Demolition Lovers'."

The last song of the night... It starts with some slow guitar, full of emotions. You lean against the bar counter to keep you upright, you miss it the first time, and you almost fall off the stool but you find your balance as Gerard starts singing; and again you feel as if he had the powers of a siren, hauling you in so he can have you to play with.

The song builds up and at last it ends. Leaving both a heavy feeling and another wave of freedom, you shout a cheer and others join you. They bow before the crowd and they disappear in a room.

They'll be back right? Gerard said so- and you want to tell them how amazing they were. The crowd dissolves and there are only so many in the bar now; but you're still waiting for the band to reappear.

Then- the door they went in opens and Frank and Gerard comes walking out. They are all smiles and happiness. It almost made you forget that you wanted to go up to them; yet somehow you clicked out of the admiration and you were on your way to greet them. Stumbling into your own legs at times.

"Hey! I just wanted to say y'all were amazing tonight. It's rare to see new bands as great as you were." The words stuck to your tongue and you weren't sure if the words came out the right way or order, but they didn't care about your slurring.

They didn't care? But- they were looking at you, however not into your eyes… Was something wrong? You followed their gaze on your body, slowly looking down; there was nothing wrong.

In one moment you're looking for what's wrong and in the next one, the boys are leading you down a hallway away from the bar to the backrooms of the venue. You don't say anything; you don't even know your name to begin with, the alcohol definitely caught up ten times stronger.

They both had a soft hand on your (almost) bare back, guiding you.

"So- what's your name, sugar?" Gerard asked, a kind smile on his gorgeous face. He made you feel safe, and you were sure that while he's here nothing bad will happen. The voice in your head from earlier gagged by the alcohol.

"I- I'm Y/N." Again, your voice was a bit distant, like you weren't fully there.

"Y/N, that's a pretty name, nice to meet you." Said Frank as his tongue slipped out from his lips to play with his piercing; all while smiling. You couldn't help but watch the action closely, staring at his lips, warmness rushed over you and you could feel those damned butterflies. 

They were both really pretty, more so than the boys your age.

Frank took a turn and Gerard lead you after him. It was a room. A normal room, with a couch inside and a coffee table full of different things. There were bags and boxes spread throughout the whole place, and it looks like a staff room, for breaks and all.

Gerard closed the door behind you and turned the lock on. What was going on? You still didn't know why they took you here and the silence was starting to get a bit suspicious.

"Why are we here?" You asked slowly, slurring but making sure each word actually rolled off your tongue.

The two men just looked at each other almost like they were having a small conversation with only looks.

"Sweetheart, don't worry we're not going to do anything you don't want us to." At last Frank answered and he flopped down onto the leather couch. Most definitely lying but how would you know.

Gerard searched for something in a backpack somewhere on the floor and it was an awkward moment; well, for you. You didn't knew what to do or say so you just stood there watching them. Then Gerard found what he was searching for and after some foggy rather uneventful moments he hands you a drink.

"I'm sure you're a bit thirsty, are you not? I saw you enjoying the whole show. You were really pretty as you were dancing around." His voice is so sweet, the small rasps in it now more on the surface from singing. And now that he mentioned it though, yes you are thirsty. So you just gulp down the sweet drink and thank him the compliment shyly. 

"Come 'ere sweetie, I don't bite. Unless you want me to." Frank pats the couch besides him and raises an eyebrow. You stumble your way there. Sitting down on the couch at a respectful distance.

"So, Y/N, how old are you? I'm sure you're not over nineteen but I'm just making sure." The question slowly registers, but it's hard to think, even harder to respond to it. You try to remember your age, and only after some brainstorming were you able to mumble out your answer.

"I recently, uhh turned... wait- ah yes. Sixteen. I recently turned sixteen."  They were unmoved by the answer.

Wait. They? Where's Gerard? You didn't even notice that he left. Leaving you and Frank alone. Said man was staring at you, taking careful notes of the smallest details on your face and on you. Almost as if he was searching for something in your eyes. But what?

Then the door opened back up and Gerard came back. He locked the door again and sat down next to you. All the suddenly you felt small, as you were between the two men, still very drunk even though time passed. Hell- it felt like you were drunker now than before.

You haven't had alcohol in a good hour or two, you should feel at least a bit more sober, yet nope. The clouds in your mind were unmoving blocks. Then a warm hand on your thigh snapped you out of the useless try called thinking.

It was Gerard's hand, sitting on your clothed thigh already pretty high.

"Frank, the minutes. Did you count them?" 

Why would he count them? What's going on? You ask yourself the same questions over and over but you forget them every time.

"Just three more mins and she'll be no less then human slime." Who? You? Slime?

Gerard's hand slowly trailed even higher up your thigh. You didn't stop him; why? You couldn't- Even moving your hand took a lot of energy, stopping him would result in you passing out from trying too hard. But your hand only lifted up so much before your energy wore out and it fell down limp onto the damn couch.

"Ngh- What, What are you doing? I'm... only 16." Speaking was still hard but it wasn't as bad as anything else, like keeping your body upright on the couch or not closing your eyes.

You were trapped in your body, forced to feel and see while you couldn't do anything about... about what specifically? You don't know, but your guts are telling you it's nothing good.

"Shh- sugar, it'll be better if you ease into it. Let us take care of you. We know you're 16, that's why we chose you in the first place." His other hand slowly undoes your bra and gets rid of it. Leaving your small yet beautiful tits in the wild, for them to touch, see and taste.

"Minutes are over, Gee. We're free to do anything and she can't stop it." Frank adds in with a smirk on his face.

Gerard's comically larger hand cups one of your boobs and you want to protest, but the clouds in your mind whisper sweet things and the new touch of his hand feels nicer than it should, it makes your skin get all goose-bumpy and a weird feeling in your stomach fills you with butterflies again. 

Then hotness pools between your thighs, and you're not too naive, you know what is happening to your body, just not what's going on with your mind.

"This is wrong... You're way older than me." You grunt out as you watch both of them. Gerard's hand softly playing with one of your nipples, while his other hand is tracing circles on your thigh. Your breaths are a bit more rapid than they should be and you blame Gerard for it.

"That's the thrill of it sweetie, we'll be the one to ruin you first. Mhm, your small tits already made my cock rock hard. They look so soft and perfect." Frank snuggles closer to you and takes one of your hand to put it under his pants.

Grabbing his own hardening with your hand, he whimpers in your ear and the sound makes you want to whimper back, it's so hot; but you don't. Did they put something in your drink? No, there wasn't a time they could've. Was there?

Your thoughts spiral but with each passing second you feel yourself turn on more and more, even the way Frank is palming himself with your hand is hot right now.

"We're going to make you feel so  good you'll never forget it. When you'll be older, you'll be touching yourself to this memory." Frank thrusts up into your hand as Gerard observes him while he keeps fondling your underage breast.

"Mhm, Frankie's right. You'll never forget this." At last his hand leaves your breast and all of a suddenly it's cold without his inappropriate touch on you. But he doesn't give you a lot of time to complain about it as he sits up and leans over your chest, his warm breath making you no longer cold.

"I'm going to undress and feast on you. While Frank is going to keep your mouth busy. Right, Frank?" He kisses down on your collarbone and then each of your boobs, making sure they both get the same sloppy wet treatment as his hands are working on your jeans.

You don't even feel real, this is an out of body experience, however all of it is way too real at the same time. Gerard's mouth on your boobs and his chubby fingers undoing your zipper. Frank's hard throbbing dick in your limp hand, pumping against yours and his fingers. And in the back of your mind you might just give in.

Frank stops for a few moments to undress completely, his soft muscles tightening then relaxing as he gets butt naked. There are few tattoos here and there on his skin, and for a second it feels like time stops just so you could admire the ink carved into his skin.

You just admired the beautiful naked man before you; but Gerard was hooking his fingers into your jeans and that stole all of your remaining attention. He pulled it down in one swift movement, giving way to more of your skin and to your wet underwear.

He pulled the small clothing down slowly, teasing both himself and the very eager Frank next to you. When the small cloth is finally removed and you're exposed to the men like an animal in a cage at the zoo, does Gerard finally stand to undress too.

Revealing both his hard cock and somewhat chubby body; it was kind of attractive though, as well as Frank's lean body. To see how both of them got so worked up all because of you, like you're some Goddess they've got to worship.

"Fuck," Frank says to Gerard. "She's so beautiful." Responds Gerard.

Gerard kneels before the couch where you sit, pushing at your thighs to get a better view at you bare pussy, the slickness coating you. He runs two fingers over your slit, feeling you up and smearing the arousal around your clit. It feels great but there's still a fight in you, you're scared. Too bad you were a virgin, sure you did some stuff, but if they do get to that point-it'll hurt, and this is not how you want it to go.

But soon your view is not on what's going between your legs and your mind is not on if they'll rape you; much rather Frank's dick. One of his hands gripping your head by your hair as he pulls you to his lap, while his other hand lines up his length with your mouth, and you find yourself opening it for him. Why? You don't quite know.

He grins at you like a little kid in a candy shop as he slowly lowers your head to make you swallow around his cock. And the sounds he makes is all worth it for. All the gagging and choking, makes it worth it to hear this man moan so pretty.

A weird hot feeling comes from between your leg, and just then do you realize that Gerard's eating you out, lapping up your wetness with his tongue, and God does it feel good. You whimper around Frank's size as Gerard keeps teasing your bud with his skills.

They were right. You're never going to forget this night, for two reasons. One: being underage at a rock show is fun, two: they are making you feel things you never felt before. Sure, you used your hand before, but this is way better.

Frank approved of the sound you made over him and he thrusts up into your throat, making you gag again as he hit the back of your throat for an uncountable time. Saliva was drooling onto the couch from the sloppy bobbing of your head. Your tongue sliding against him from time to time, making his hand grab onto your head a bit rougher than intended.

The sensation of both receiving and giving oral is very overpowering; while Gerard is making you feel like jelly with his precise technique, Frank is grounding you at the moment as he keeps slipping in and out of your mouth. The velvety texture of the soft skin of his dick feels nice against your lips and tongue.

Gerard teases your entrance first with just a finger, then he slowly pushes it inside, and the feeling is both familiar yet unknown. Only one finger of his feels like two of yours, but gosh the pressure in your lower stomach feels amazing.

Frank keeps adding up to the pace of his thrusts into your mouth, the sounds of your choked of whimpers and gagging a mix of sloppy sounds. He's close to coming and it shows from the way he's whining over you, head bent back, eyes closed, totally living in the moment.

Another finger gets added into your cunt as Gerard keeps sucking on your clit, and in the back of your foggy mind you're starting to think he's building you up for an orgasm so you and Frank can cum at the same time. Gosh, that'd be so hot, wouldn't it? Without further need to think a moan slips out and Frank definitely felt it to his balls.

"Nghn~ Fuuuuck, if you keep moaning over my cock like that I'm going to paint your lungs white. And you better swallow when I do, hmm sweetie." He grunts out as he looks back down at your helpless body, being feasted at and taken advantage of, so fucking gladly.

The clouds in your head are starting to very slowly go back to where they came from, and the feeling of Gerard's fingers curling deep inside you feels better than ever, and if you could you would ride his fingers. 

Frank all of a sudden pulls out of your mouth and a moment later the silky white stripes of his cum decorates your face and mouth. He moans loudly when he cums, and it could be in porn because fuck, you'd love to hear it again and again.

His fingers collect all of his seed and he helps all of it into your mouth.

"Swallow it. Be a good girl and swallow all of it. Gee, how are things down there? Is she ready to take us?" You do as Frank suggests and swallow all of it despite the weird taste and interesting texture. You find yourself giving in more as you go.

Gerard pulls out his fingers from your core and stands up, leaving you bare.

"I think she's ready; help me move her?"

"You got it!"

Frank takes you by the armpits and Gerard grabs your legs, they position you on the couch so you're actually lying down on it, and it's a pretty comfortable position, but you can't see a lot, only the ceiling and the roundabouts of everything.

Then Gerard's pretty face comes into view, so he's above you? Thankfully, the man takes a pillow and puts it under your head making the position even more comfortable and this way you can see what's going on.

Your assumption on Gerard's position was right and he's above you, caging you in softly. He also undressed completely and you just notice how close he is to your wet hole that's still pumping from the need of Gerard's fingers. Frank however, he's just standing by, dick in his hand, watching.

"What are you doing?" You ask again, as he slowly pushes open your thighs wider.

"What do you think, sugar? I'm going to fuck you. Don't worry, I'll go soft on you for the first round. I don't know about Frank on the other hand, he's quite the animal."

He positioned his hardening up to you and without leaving you time for thinking, sunk in. Slowly but he made it in, it felt bad, it hurt and it was like he was in your guts. If you could've moved you would've, but you can't, and that's the worst of it.

So far it wouldn't have been too bad, and you made up your mind about it, however this is like your nightmare coming true. The sting between your thighs was very uncomfortable and the way he was stretching you didn't feel pleasurable at all.

"No- I didn't want this, why would you… No, please don't. Let me go, I don't want this anymore." You were on the verge of tears but it seems like they didn't really care for that. You tried to move but all you could do was move your head and hands a little bit. The tears were now on their way down on your face.

"Shh, sugar, just give it a minute I promise it won't be as bad as it is now." He wiped your tears away as new ones formed but the words didn't comfort you, not anymore. This was it. You lost your virginity by getting raped.

Gerard didn't move for a few seconds, and you almost thought he regretted it, but then he started moving in and out, ripping open your insides. It was very uncomfortable and it hurt a lot too, and you were almost a hundred percent sure that there was blood too.

You wished you could scream, but the tears clogged your throat and the shock and pain kept your still foggy mind out of place. You tried to let him do it so it would end sooner. His soft whimpers were reminders that he was enjoying this, that he knew what he was doing and that made him feel good.

It was disgusting already but it only registered now how they were using you. Blood ran down your thighs as he stretched out your no longer virgin pussy. With each thrust it hurt less but it was still painful and nothing of pleasure like before, the feeling of his dick brushing against so deeply inside you wasn't good, nothing like anybody told you.

Frank was just watching the two of you, and you couldn't help but try and beg him to stop Gerard with your eyes, since you knew trying to actually beg audibly wouldn't help; but he wasn't looking at your face. No, he was too mesmerized by the way Gerard took advantage of you, and he also liked the scene playing out before him.

It made you nauseous to even think about it, nonetheless live it. It was an out of body experience and your mind was still fuzzy but the pure hatred and disgust was evidently there.

There was no way out of here and you all knew it. All of a sudden Gerard stops and pulls out, and it's like you've been spared from death row, you finally let out all of the air inside your lungs you didn't even know you kept in there. However with a grunt he came onto you; your stomach now kept hydrated by his semen.

Without a single word he stood up from you and walked to the pile where his clothes were, 'Is this it? Is it finally over?'.

"Oh sweetie don't look relieved, I hadn't had my turn yet and I've been aching to sink into your freshly tore hole. Gosh, I'm sure you're still fuckin' tight." Frank interrupted your somewhat peaceful moment with the vulgar comment that answered your earlier questions.

You were sure this was hell, made specifically for you, making all your nightmares true.

Next thing you know is that Frank is leaning over you, one hand near your face, the other lining up his hard cock to your bleeding opening. Once he got the tip in his hand held onto your hip. He thrusted into you without mercy, it hurt even more than Gerard taking your virginity and you were unsure how that was even possible but here you were, with all of that pain, very real and true.

"Fuuuuck~ Sweetie, you're even better than I thought you'd be. Ngh- you feel so nice around me, ahh~ and the way you clench around me, I don't think one round will calm me, darling." His pace matched the way he moaned and whimpered, hard and ruthless; loud and nonstop.

The way his hand on your hip gripped your skin so he could draw in and out with that roughness; everything hurt, both the way he gripped your hip and the way he fucked you into shredded meat. Or- well, that was what it felt like.

Your body betrayed you though, your insides were getting tighter and tighter and you knew what this meant; your soft gasps also a confirmation about something you weren't ready to accept.

"Mm- dammit Y/N, if you're going to cling to me like that I won't be able to last any longer. I know, deep down you actually enjoy this. Your body says enough for me to pick up on; you like it rough, hm sweetie?"

"If- if I had the energy, I'd spit- ngh~ into your face r-right now." You sputtered out between gritted teeth from withholding your soft whimpers and from the pain still lingering there, right between your legs.

"Where did all of that feistiness come from? Do you want me to-" Thrust. "fuck you harder," Thrust. "or what?" Thrust.

Damn him for being like this, because let it be from the fuzz still in your mind, his good looks or the fact that it wasn't so bad anymore; but you let a moan slip free by accident, and the smug smirk he gave you afterwards made you both throw up and swoon over.

He leaned down to kiss your lips, which you didn't reciprocate, nor did you even react in any way. So he moved the sloppy kisses down to your neck where he was so eager to find a spot that would get a reaction out of you, which didn't take long because he knew where to try.

The space under your ear was soft and he nibbled on it which made you whine in addition, it was a sad fact that even though you were not okay with what was happening, he made it feel good. It made you even angrier when he kept sucking on that sweet spot perfectly.

"Agh- fuck you! I know wh- what you're doing, and it- mhm makes me sick." The battle between your small moans and the insult was hard to bear, but you got it out without sounding too pathetic.

His thrusts were not faltering they kept up the pace and somehow the pain went away without you noticing, however what you did notice was the way how the coil in your stomach was burning to get it's release since you've been holding it back, but you don't want to give him that ego boost or satisfaction. God's sake for actually making this somewhat pleasurable after some torturous minutes.

With his soft nibbles on your neck too- it was way too much pleasure to hold all of it back, and with the rest of your dignity you let go of the hold on your stomach and walls, to come undone over his brutally penetrating dick. An actual moan leaves your mouth with it as you let the pleasure take over you as he kept going inside you and making the waves of your cum last longer.

"Shiiiiit- Did you just? Ah~ oh my God…" He quickly pulls out after a long moan and spurts onto your stomach too, mixing his and Gee's cum on your skin.

He kisses down your breasts to then continue to your cum covered stomach, which he lickes up a long stripe on. His tongue coated in his own and his band mate's seed, which he seems giddy about as he swallows the mixture of sperm.

~~^^~~

Years have passed from that night, which you never told anybody of. Why? There are two reasons, they were right; you did end up touching yourself to the memory of the bittersweet event. And secondly because they became famous, without a trace of shame on their bits; no one knew that the singer and the rhythm guitarist liked to share underage girls.

[dearjoons]

🛹 SKATERBOY!JIMIN HEADCANNONS (2)

warnings: rodrick heffley-anna coleman (freaky friday) crossover. set somewhere between 1994-2006. mentions of smoking, sex, etc. THERE IS SOME SMUT DOWN THERE! reader discretion is advised.

lulu speaks: HE’S BACK HE’S BACK EVERYONE CLAP! *bows* thank you thank you 🙂‍↕️ i missed him too ❤️‍🩹

★ skaterboy!jimin who will literally spend hours practicing a new trick just to impress you.

★ skaterboy!jimin who keeps a polaroid of you taped inside his locker, right above a Nirvana flyer. he kisses his first two fingers and taps it before every test he takes. he still fails them all.

★ skaterboy!jimin who won’t ever admit to being a bit of an artist, but will surely speak it through the way he’ll doodle all over you in sharpie. skulls, eyes, wings, a mock old-school heart tattoo with his name in the middle.

★ skaterboy!jimin who swears up and down he “hates people”, but somehow charms everyone’s little siblings. he will always deny his sweet heart. but you see it—you know it.

★ skaterboy!jimin who rubs his cherry lollipop over his plump lips like it’s lipgloss, but will proceed to act like he’s above using lip care—he likes your lip balm, though. a lot.

★ skaterboy!jimin who calls you “his courtney” in hopes you’ll call him “your kurt”. you never do. he’ll never stop.

★ skaterboy!jimin who will try his hardest to teach you how to skate, one step at a time. his hands tight in yours, watching as you defy the laws of inertia time and time again.

★ skaterboy!jimin who thinks that slow dancing to “Crazy” by Aerosmith is the most romantic thing ever.

★ skaterboy!jimin who makes it his life’s mission to convince you to get matching couples tattoos. when you finally come around, you’re not the one whining and bitching in the tattoo parlor.

★ skaterboy!jimin who takes you out to the gas station after your curfew, feeding you shitty powdered donuts, kissing the powdered sugar off your lips.

★ skaterboy!jimin who lands the cleanest ollie you’ve ever seen, skates over to you with a cheeky grin. he gives you a fist bump, immediately lifting your hand and kissing it afterwards.

★ skaterboy!jimin who is always taking you to random garage concerts, claiming he “knows the drummer.” you recognize no one, yet you have the time of your life every. single. time.

★ skaterboy!jimin who takes the healing wrap off his tattoo as soon as he out of the artist’s eyeline, flexing the poorly-healing “NEVERMIND” tattoo by taking off his shirt everytime he’s around you for the next month.

★ skaterboy!jimin who sketches your initials on his board’s grip tape so many times it’s barely usable.

★ skaterboy!jimin who loves when you straddle him in his passenger seat. his fingers drum along your hips, lazy and slow, kissing you between every word. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this. wanna stay here all night.”

★ skaterboy!jimin who loves when you pull his hair. his moans go high-pitched, almost surprised, when your fingers yank—“shit—do that again, fuck.”

★ skaterboy!jimin who wolf whistles at you everytime you dress a little skimpier. he swears his mouth waters when your shorts ride up—almost like it’s on purpose. “now you’re just being mean,” he whines with a pout.

★ skaterboy!jimin who always, always lets you finish first. every time. “gotta take care of my girl. nothing else matters.”

★ skaterboy!jimin who eats you out like it’s a competition. face buried in your thighs, tongue mean and unrelenting, like he’s got something to prove.

★ skaterboy!jimin who insists on fucking you in the backseat of his car while Nirvana blasts from his busted stereo. windows fogged up, your leg tossed over the console, his voice in your ear—“be loud, baby. no one can hear you over Kurt.”

★ skaterboy!jimin who records you moaning for him on a scratchy-ass cassette tape, jerking off to it later while whispering your name under his breath.

★ skaterboy!jimin who asks you to take polaroids of your nail scratches on his back, every. damn. time. he keeps at least one in his back pocket at all times.

★ skaterboy!jimin who says “attagirl” every chance he gets. his hips rolling into you when he thrusts? “attagirl.” you finally let him into your room through the window past midnight? “attagirl.” you take a longer drag than usual from your shared cig? “attagirl.”

★ skaterboy!jimin who would break every rule, every bone, every promise he’s ever made—just to keep you safe, loved, worshipped.

lulu speaks pt2: this is very short n sweet (haha sabrina reference) but BOY is he hot. sigh. #needthatrealbad

cai bot. masterlist. navigation.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Take On Me

Summary: What happens when the love of Bob’s life finally makes a move…the night before he deploys? Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd/F!Reader (No Y/N) Word Count: 4k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: This is an entry for the 80’s Rocktober Challenge hosted by @roosterforme - I picked a-ha’s song “Take On Me.” I hope y’all enjoy! This is Bob’s side story from my Jake series, Invisible Smoke. But you don’t need to read that to read this. Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, unprotected sex, cockwarming (?)/unrealistic post-sex activities, angst (with a happy ending), being bad at feelings

Bob didn’t particularly like nights before deployment. There were the obvious reasons—being shipped out and stuck on a carrier for weeks on end wasn’t exactly the best part of his job—but the pageantry of the night before, the dress whites, the careful goodbyes, that was what he really hated.

Natasha had dragged him to the Hard Deck so he could at least say goodbye to a few friends in person since he had already video called his family. He watched Natasha pull Bradshaw out onto the deck for a quieter moment alone. It was about time they got together. Bob had been one of the few who knew about her feelings for their fellow aviator and he had accidentally discovered that they were reciprocated a few days after the Uranium Mission. It really had been kind of ridiculous watching them dance around each other for months.

He was happy they were finally together. Really. Who wouldn’t be happy to see two of his closest friends be happy? But it really just twisted the dull knife behind his ribs that always came when Bob realized how alone he was. He didn’t have someone to say goodbye to like that.

Penny gave him another ginger ale with her usual sweet smile before he started back toward the table in the corner where he’d left his hat. He pushed through the crowd, earning a few slaps to his back and claps to his shoulders by other patrons who knew what awaited him in the morning, and settled back into his seat with a sigh. He scanned the crowd, seeing Harvard and Yale chat up two women on what looked like a bachelorette trip and then Payback and Mickey dancing with their wives near the jukebox. Payback’s wife, a stunning woman named Sidney, pulled back just enough to wipe tears from her cheeks. Payback gently knocked her hand away and finished for her before kissing her forehead. Bob turned away, feeling like he was intruding with a persistent tightness in his chest.

And his traitorous mind conjured your smiling face, bright and happy.

What Bob had with you was…nice. It was quiet and gentle and strictly platonic, right now. Bob would never understand how Hangman was the one to introduce you to him.

“Trust me, Baby on Board, you’ll love her. She’s perfect for you.”

Bob had been fully prepared to grit his teeth and bear whomever Seresin had deemed ‘perfect,’ and expected to meet an Instagram model or a gym buddy of his—not that there was anything wrong with them, they were usually lovely but just a little intense. But then you walked in.

You with your thick-rimmed glasses and soft smile and softer laugh.

While Jake bragged on your behalf, stating that you were the best CPA in the city, the only person he’d trust with his taxes, andthat Penny trusted you with the Hard Deck’s books, you fiddled nervously with the bendy straw Penny had given you in your little cup of pop.

It was Jake’s fiancée—a good friend of Bob’s who deserved the world, if anyone asked him—who quieted the man’s well-meaning rant with a hand on his arm. “I think he gets it. She is amazing.” The other woman winked and earned a soft smile from you before turning back toward her fiancé. “But you still owe me a game of pool, yeah?”

As the couple walked away, leaving you and Bob alone, your (beautiful) eyes tracked up to meet his gaze. Your smile was small and soft and you drummed your manicured nails against the plastic cup in your grip. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And that was it, really. You had asked Bob if he knew how to play pool and then he offered to teach you. That led to soft giggles and missed trick shots and then quiet conversations about your lives and phone numbers exchanged before you parted ways for the night.

It was…good. Really. Even if it always teetered on the edge of becoming something more but never did.

Bob liked your good morning texts and the way you insisted on paying for brunch every time you invited him to try a new restaurant that just opened up. He liked that you didn’t mind helping him get the rest of the Daggers home from the Hard Deck if they had one drink too many. He liked that the people he trusted with his life liked you.

He…liked you. And he knew it was getting dangerously close to a different L word and that just had his mind circling back to how much he hated nights before deployments. You weren’t here. Bob didn’t blame you, of course. One of your more “difficult” clients had needed your attention immediately and had flown you out to Los Angeles about a week ago and Bob hadn’t wanted to disturb you with the news of the deployment. He’d asked Jake’s fiancée to tell you when you got back into town and he had an email queued up to be sent to you, too, crossing his fingers that he’d be able to still talk with you when you both had a moment to spare.

His gaze once again roamed around the bustling bar and unintentionally picked out all the couples. Dammit. Maybe, he just needed to get some sleep. He needed to be on the carrier early tomorrow morning anyway and wallowing in self pity wasn’t really a good waste of time. He finished his soda and waved to Penny and then placed a few bills on the bar to cover his tab before setting off toward the door.

This was good. He could get back to base and get some sleep before getting to the carrier just after dawn. But, as he moved around a rambunctious pair of lieutenants jockeying over their stances for darts, he nearly collided with a solid, soft body.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

Familiar hands pressed at his chest in a bid to stay upright and the scent of rose and amber immediately flooded his senses. And Bob knew immediately it was you.

Bob set his hands on your hips with a growing smile and watched the realization dawn on your face. “Bob!” A smile he could see in his dreams broke across your lips before you wrapped your arms over his shoulders in a tight hug. “I’m so happy I caught you. I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.”

It took Bob a moment to shake himself free of the shock of your arrival and gave you a smile of his own. Some higher power was laughing at him right now (or maybe it was just Seresin) because Bob thought you’d never looked more beautiful in your short dress with buttons all the way down the front and strappy heels. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Your smile widened the slightest bit and you glanced at something over his shoulder, raising one hand to wave at someone. Bob turned in time to see Jake and his fiancée both raising their glasses in his direction. They knew. They had planned this.

But, when one of your hands swept over his shoulder to rest over his happily thrumming heart, all the embarrassment and gratitude he could have expressed at that moment crumbled away. He could deal with them later (and by ‘deal with them,’ Bob meant probably buy them a round and say thank you).

“Want to get out of here?” You asked, fingers brushing over the carefully arranged pins on his chest before thumbing at one of the ornate buttons of his jacket.

Bob knew you didn’t mean it like that, despite your wandering fingers, but he still had to suck in a quick breath to steady his thoughts before smiling. “Yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”

You were quick to drop one of your hands to his, tugging him toward the door with a soft laugh he knew so well. The night air was tinged with salt water and the barest hint of spilled beer as soon as you stepped outside and down the handful of steps onto the parking lot. You gave him another smile over your shoulder as you started, “I hope you don’t mind-”

Bob fought the urge to say something that had been on the tip of his tongue for months and instead settled for, “you have to know that I never mind.”

You laughed again and shook your head but the noise quickly stalled when your foot connected when one of the concrete parking dividers and you nearly toppled for the second time that night. Bob tightened his grip on your hand and kept you upright with a quick tug that had you stumbling forward until you collided with his chest with a soft ‘oof’ and you laughed as you tucked your face into his jacket for a moment. You had a habit of doing that, hiding your smiles in the safety of Bob’s body. His neck, his chest, his shoulders, his arms. All of them had been places for you to squish your face. He never did mind, happily accepting any sort of physical affection you would bestow. Knowing you trusted him enough to keep you safe when you felt vulnerable.

Again, Bob knew he was dangerously close to that other word.

“I swear I haven’t had a drink at all. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.” Your voice shook and Bob tried not to read too much into that either as you looked down and groaned. “Oh, maybe that’s why. My shoe’s come undone.”

Bob didn’t even blink before kneeling on the pavement and grasping at the delicate straps. He could feel the heat of your skin as he carefully threaded the strap through the buckle again and as he tugged it closed again, the pads of his fingers brushed against your ankle and you were just as soft as he imagined.

What he had not imagined was the shiver his simple touch would elicit from you. You let out a strange, stuttering breath as Bob looked up at you. Oh.

Maybe it was the growing adrenaline from the impending deployment, or maybe the way the low lights were reflecting in your eyes, or maybe it was a dawning realization that you could maybe feel the same as he did. His fingers trailed up your leg as he took his time standing, almost smirking when he felt how goosebumps raced across your skin.

Your next breath stuttered and Bob felt it against his neck as he finally stood straight and once again settled his hands on your hips.

“I um…” Your throat bobbed. “Th-thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

His position and training as a WSO had Bob picking up on minute details, but he’d always been that way. He was the kid who was delighted with a ladybug landing on his jeans when the rest of his family watched booming fireworks on the Fourth of July. So, he noticed when your eyes flickered down to his lips. You moved closer and your lips puckered.

You were going to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him.

But Bob didn’t move forward to close the distance, no matter how much he wanted to and he watched your face crumple.

“Bob?” Your voice was weak as he took a small step back; Bob didn’t let you go far and kept his hands firmly planted on your hips. He wouldn’t let you go. Not yet. “Did I do something wrong? I…I’m sorry. I thought-”

But he just shook his head, ducking his chin the slightest bit toward his chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. I just want to make sure this is what you actually want and not because I’m shipping out in a few hours. Deployments make people think-”

You moved to grasp his face, trying to tilt his chin just enough to make him look at you again. There was a desperation in your gaze that let him know that you needed him to hear you, make him understand. “Bob, I can’t lie and tell you that this deployment has nothing to do with it, all right? But this is the first time you’re being sent away from me. I know these things can be dangerous. I know that. I’ve heard horror stories about…” You couldn’t even finish the thought and shook it away. Your thumbs pressed gentle arcs into his cheeks before you dropped your hold. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? We can pretend none of this happened and just go get ice cream and sit and silence and watch the water until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think I could ever get sick of you,” Bob said, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could even think of how that would sound to you.

An unsteady smile pushed at your mouth as you took a step backward and then another and another until you were leading him toward your car—Bob quickly redirected you toward his trusty GMC and opened the door for you with a smile of his own. The air in the truck’s cab was tense for a slow song or two, just long enough for you to squirm in your seat until Bob reached over and grabbed your hand.

He didn’t want to upset you—it wasn’t an outright rejection, not at all—he just wanted to be sure that you wanted him like he wanted you.

Bob didn’t do this. He didn’t spend the entire night talking, laughing, pretending he didn’t have to disappear for a few weeks. But with you it felt right. It felt like he should have been doing this with you for months. Years.

Ice cream was purchased at a small roadside shop and Bob pulled onto an overlook and shut off the truck, letting the dim moonlight fill the cab as you both quietly ate your sweet treat—strawberry for Bob, pistachio for you. It was calm and peaceful, a far cry from the noise of the Hard Deck, but he could feel when you started to get nervous again, curling your hands into the skirt of your dress for a moment before starting to fiddle with the cloth-covered buttons on the front.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the deployment?” You asked, and Bob could hear the trepidation in your voice. You turned in your seat to face him and Bob was quick to do the same and you both scooted a little closer to each other on the bench seat, legs awkwardly skirting around the stick shift. “I would have come home sooner.”

But Bob just shook his head and felt his nose scrunch as he tried to pick his words carefully. He didn’t stop until he felt you trail your finger across his brow, wordlessly telling him to relax. Bob couldn’t even remember when you had started doing it, but he had savored it every time and felt his shoulders slump while he finally found the words. He carefully reached up and grasped your hand, linking your fingers together for a moment. “I don’t think I knew how to say goodbye to you.”

You searched Bob’s face and he tried not to hope too much with the look in your eyes. “Bob, I… you don’t have to have anything special to say to me. But please just say something.”

Bob didn’t even realize he was moving until his lips were firm against yours, almost unyielding. Your glasses clicked together as his hand anchored itself on the back of your neck and tilted your face just so but neither of you seemed to mind. He could feel your smile against his mouth.

Your fingers sunk into his hair as his tongue slid against the seam of your lips. He’d give you anything anything anything, and this was no different. All his thoughts about the deployment, about what waited for him in the morning, flew out the window as he hauled you closer, pulling you onto his lap. The warmth of you immediately sank through the heavy fabric of his trousers and he groaned. The noise earned him a breathy sigh against his mouth and your hips sinking and rocking against his again.

“I wanted to do this right. I wanted to do this right with you,” Bob murmured against your mouth as his fingers swiftly undid the buttons down the front of your dress.

“You are,” you said, tone breathy and bordering on needy. “I promise you are. This feels right. Everything feels right with you.”

Bob’s fingers stalled and his bright blue eyes moved up your face until they were boring into yours. “Sweetheart…”

“I mean it,” you said. “Everything feels right with you.”

It might have been less of a shock for Bob if someone had hit him in the chest with a baseball bat. Something whispered at the back of his mind to tell you, to tell you now and make sure you were saying what he thought and hoped you were saying. But he didn’t. Because wouldn’t that be cruel? To draw that out of you before leaving for weeks at a time with no firm promise to return to you? So, instead he kissed you again and tried to press into his mind the way you felt against his mouth as he pushed your dress from your shoulders. He moved to press you down across the bench seat and licked at the thrumming pulse in your neck as he peeled the little scrap of lace down your legs and then shoved them into his pocket.

He would keep those.

Bob moved, knee knocking into the steering wheel for a moment, shoving himself between your thighs after shrugging off his jacket. He pressed a kiss to your ankle, your knee, your thigh, before nosing at your perfect hip bones.

“Bob,” you whined. “Bob, please.”

The salty tang of you was immediately addicting and Bob wrapped his arms over your thighs and dragged you closer closer closer with each flick and twist of his tongue. He could do this forever. He shouldn’t have waited this long.

Your fingers curling through his hair knocked any other thought right out of his head and all that was left was you you you and how your thighs clamped over his ears as you came.

When your legs stopped shaking enough, you hooked your hands behind his head and hauled him up, pressing a rushed, sloppy, perfect kiss against his mouth. Bob’s hands skimmed over the soft skin of your thighs as he settled between them, feeling your wet heat soak his skin.

“Please,” you whispered against his mouth. “Please.”

Bob’s knee hit the horn when he went to shove his trousers and briefs down and he was embarrassed only for a moment but laughed along with you as you dragged him back into your hold, kissing him sweetly as you helped him move back into the cradle of your thighs. You felt divine. Warm, wet, and tight…and perfect. And every movement felt even better. You were clawing at his back as Bob mouthed at the swells of your breasts. You were everywhere, he was everywhere, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you whimpered when he raised his head again to lick into your mouth.

Faster and faster, Bob drove into you until you were shaking in his grip, sighing against his spit-slick lips and Bob was quick to follow, collapsing over you and hips rutting into yours lazily in a mindless haze until you whined against his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured as he maneuvered just enough to press up onto his forearms on either side of your head. Bob didn’t move to pull out, not just yet, enjoying your warmth for a little longer. Just a little longer.

You were beautiful. Sweaty and makeup smudged, you were gorgeous. Bob trailed a finger across your cheek, catching a tear as it slid from your eye.

“Sweetheart?” Did he hurt you? Did something happen-

“Stay with me?” Your eyes were wide and pleading as your grip tightened on his shoulders just a fraction. “Just… Can we just stay like this a little longer?”

Something in Bob’s chest twisted, almost uncomfortable, almost too close to that other word. But still, he said, “of course, sweetheart. Of course.”

The conversation that followed was soft and quiet, filled with everything and nothing, and Bob’s eyes slowly closed with the sound of your heart and the waves outside lulling him to sleep.

A noise woke Bob up some time later. It could have been a passing car or the waves against the shore, it didn’t matter, really. It was still before dawn, the sky an inky shade of blue. He turned to the side, his back protesting the slightest bit, and saw you beside him. Your mouth was parted with sleep, soft breaths escaping in deep, even intervals.

You were beautiful.

And he had to let you go.

**

You hardly remembered waking up and getting dressed again. But you remembered leaning out of the truck to straighten Bob’s hat atop his head. Last night had been perfect and tinged with some sort of unspoken melancholy. Why had you waited so long? “Can I…can I come with you to the carrier? Wave you off?” It was a selfish ask, but you wanted more time, just a little more to cling to before your heart leapt out from between your ribs to try to follow him out to sea. For one of the few times in your life, you knew it wasn’t better to be safe than sorry. You had to take a chance.

Bob’s unfairly pretty blue eyes nearly sparkled in the low light of dawn as he smiled at you. “Of course, sweetheart.”

The ride out to the carrier was quiet aside from Bob asking if you could drop his truck off with Bradshaw. You readily agreed and hated how your stomach twisted when he parked. The imposing behemoth of a ship loomed on the horizon and you walked beside Bob, his duffel in hand, as you weaved through the early morning crowd. He slowed to a stop a few paces away from the carrier’s ramp and turned back to you.

You watched his jaw flex, tight and wanting, and you wanted to tell him how you felt, how you had felt for months, and you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue but they crumbled to nothing when the carrier blared its horn, calling everyone in and pulling Bob’s attention for a moment.

Tears started to build at the backs of your eyes as the carrier blared its horn for a second time. You had to let him go. You just learned what it was like to have him, and you had to let him go.

Bob turned back to you and you recognized the determined set of his jaw as he reached for you after dropping his bag at his feet. His hands smoothed up your arms and hooked at the back of your neck, thumb pressing an incessant pressure at the hinge of your jaw. You could have melted then, you were puddy in his hold and it almost made it worse. “I shouldn’t ask you this. It’s selfish and cruel-”

“Ask me anyway,” you said, the syllables cracking in your throat.

“Will you be here when I get back? Will you wait for me? I know it is a lot to ask, to take me on and-”

Those damn tears came back and you surged forward to press your lips to his again. The kiss was unhurried and uncoordinated but you couldn’t pull away. Not just yet. Not until your lungs burned and your cheeks felt cold. “I’ve been waiting for you for months. What’s a few weeks more?”

Bob’s smile was small but you knew you’d remember it for the rest of your life. He kissed you, soft and breathless, before scooping up his duffel again and walking backward toward the ramp. He was keeping his eyes on you. And you wouldn’t look away. Not now.

In eight weeks’ time, you’d be back here, ready and waiting. And you knew he’d come home. To you.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

[goldenraeofsun]

light you up like dynamite

“Stop whatever you’re doing,” Lois announces as soon as Clark opens the door to let her in. “This is more important, and I need all hands on deck.”

“Surely the deck can wait until –” Clark startles as he looks at his watch. “Gosh, Lois, it’s three in the morning!”

“Good reporters never sleep,” she crows as she makes a beeline for the coffee maker in the kitchen. She spins on her heel to face him, hands on her hips. “I’ve got the story of the century for you.”

“You are unbelievable.”

Lois beams. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” He sighs. “I thought, after everything that happened last Tuesday –”

“Story - of - the - century,” Lois interrupts, punctuating each word with a little clap to get it through his thick, thick skull. 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you say that at least five times before,” he says wearily. He rattles off, “Luthor’s election campaign scandal. Intergang’s money laundering racket. The governor’s fraud and abuse within the City Housing Authority. Luthor’s second election campaign scandal.”

Lois scowls as she grabs the bag of grounds from his cabinet and puts in a new filter. “That’s only four.”

Clark drums his fingers against the counter. “When Bernini’s closed, and you said your reporting would shake the very foundations of Metropolis.”

“Hey,” Lois protests, “You loved their chicken parm as much as I did!”

“Sure I did,” Clarks says reasonably, “but I didn’t put in print that their landlord was ‘a penny-pinching, corner-cutting bourgeois parasite and a prime example of why we should start using the guillotine’.” He pauses. “Not that you could spell guillotine if your life depended on it. ��

Lois grunts over the gurgling coffee. “I stand by that op-ed. I still dream about that chicken, I’ll have you know.”

“And,” Clark adds darkly, “who can forget ‘I Spent the Night with Superman’?”

Lois's lips purse. “That nearly won me the Pulitzer! It brought in 20,000 new subscriptions to The Planet in 24 hours. And you know Perry changed the headline on me fifteen minutes before he put the paper to bed.”

Clark frowns. “So you had fifteen minutes to change it back.”

Lois points a finger squarely at his face. “You’re just sore I got the interview first.”

Clark gapes at her. “You dangled yourself off Schuster Bridge!”

“And you didn’t, so that’s why I’m the better reporter, and you got scooped,” Lois says smartly. 

Clark rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Lord have mercy.”

“He’s got nothing to do with it.”

Clark watches her beadily as she pours a cup of coffee, his bright blue eyes cataloging her every move. “Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice that kind of gentle-soft that makes her skin crawl. She has never needed to be treated with kid gloves in her life; she’s made of sterner stuff than that. And obviously she’s fucking fine. She found a lead that every journalist in a 50 mile radius missed – Clark very much included.

Lois unlocks her phone and shoves it in his face. 

He winces as the almost offensively bright glare hits his glasses. “The Star?” he asks once he can actually read it, his question dripping with skepticism. “You hate The Star.”

“Know thine enemy,” Lois says, grimacing as she watches Clark scroll. 

Clark exhales a slow breath through his nose as he scans the cover story. “Seriously?” he asks, exasperated. “‘50 Questions with Superman’? Lois this was from two months ago ”

“Go to question 38,” she says as she pours him a mug too because she is a Good Friend.

“‘What is Superman's favorite food?’” Clark reads dispassionately. He meets her eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“What? No!”

“High?”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Brainwashed?”

“Oh my god.” 

Clark adopts a supremely constipated look. “Normally, I wouldn’t ask a woman this, but you’re acting so strangely.” He inhales a sharp breath. “Is it your time of –”

“You finish that sentence, and you’re a dead man, Kent,” Lois growls.

“But –”

She flaps her free hand in his direction as she sips at her coffee. “Keep reading.”

He taps her phone back awake. “‘Superman: While I’ve eaten food from all over the world,’” he narrates, “my favorite has to be apple pie.’” Rolling his eyes, Clark says, “So Superman likes apple pie. What are we going to learn next, that his favorite sport is baseball, America’s pastime, and his favorite game show is Wheel of Fortune, America’s game? The guy has a very well-established theme.”

“Jesus Christ, and people think I’m the impatient one,” Lois says as she drains her coffee and reaches for Clark’s untouched mug. “Keep going.”

“Hey!” Clark grabs his coffee. “Get your own!”

Lois holds up both hands in a gesture of no harm. “Fine, fine, just keep reading.”

“‘There’s this bakery, Annette’s, in Dodge City, that makes the best pie I’ve ever eaten.’” Clark swallows. He sets down Lois’s phone on the counter. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Superman has never officially been seen near Dodge City,” Lois says triumphantly. “The closest he has ever been recorded was Enid, Oklahoma, for tornado relief eighteen months ago.”

Clark blinks. “So?”

“It’s like you’re being deliberately obtuse,” Lois scolds as she helps herself to a refill of coffee. “So, I called Annette’s.”

Clark’s eyes go almost comically wide behind his glasses. “You did what? Why?”

“I called them,” Lois repeats, “to ask if Superman has ever stopped by for pie.”

Clark drags a hand down his face. “Of course you did,” he mutters. “And what did Annie tell you?”

Lois cocks her head, her mouth lifting into a too-wide smile. “So you know Annette’s too.” She taps her fingers eagerly against the edge of her mug. “I thought so. Dodge City is the closest ‘big city’ to Smallville, right?”

“Right,” Clark says, and by the look on his face, he can already tell where this is going.

“Annette said she’s never seen Superman in her life.” Lois’s grin widens. “So Superman must have visited in disguise.”

Clark's face twitches. “Oh – oh no, Lois.”

“I’ve booked us two tickets on the next flight to Topeka.” She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, half-apology. “No direct flights to Dodge City from Metropolis.”

Alarmed, Clark starts, “Lois, I can’t just up and leave –”

“Sure you can,” Lois interrupts. “Bring your laptop. You can write up your articles on the plane or in the rental. We’ll have plenty of downtime to work.”

“But Mrs. Hannigan –”

“We’ll be gone for 48 hours, tops,” Lois says as she grabs her phone. “I’m sure whatever your neighbor needs can wait.”

“Lois –”

“Pack light. I only budgeted carry-ons.”

“But –”

“Our flight is at 7:40, so I figure we should leave at 5:30 just to be safe.”

“I –”

“Come on,” Lois says, her own impatience growing. “This could be huge. If Superman can successfully disguise himself, he might have used it in other places too! He might have a whole civilian identity – I can’t believe I’ve never even considered it before!”

Clark just stares at her. 

“Well?” she demands. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to come to your senses,” Clark says frankly. “This is crazy.”

“It’s a solid lead!” 

Clark’s expression turns… pitying, and a stone drops into the pit of Lois’s stomach. He starts, “Are you sure you’re alright? After Tuesday, even I expected you to take a day or two to recover.”

“Recover? Recover from what?” Lois crosses her arms over her chest, her stare steely. 

“Almost dying?” Clark says plainly. 

Lois makes a derisive noise in the back of her throat. “As if that doesn’t happen every Tuesday.” She casts him an appraising look. “And I didn’t need Superman, anyway. I had my best guy, Clark, to save the day.”

But instead of looking reassured, Clark looks even more troubled.

“What,” Lois says flatly. 

Clark shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“You’ve already called me crazy and implied I’m ejecting all my common sense along with the lining of my uterus,” Lois says dispassionately. “What’s one more offense?”

Clark’s shoulders slump, his spine bows, and he exhales an exhausted sigh. “You always do this.”

“Do what –”

“Run from strong emotions instead of confronting them.”

“Excuse me,” Lois interjects, her temper racing from 0 to 60 in a fraction of a second. “I have no fucking idea what gave you that bright idea –”

“Of course,” Clark cuts her off, eyes flashing behind his smudged lenses. “Who knows where I came up with that, when you’re so open and vulnerable at the best of times.”

Lois could slap him. So enraged she can barely get the words out, “I come to you – I thought –”

Clark reaches towards her, thinks better of it, and wraps his hand around his half empty mug instead. “Look, I’m not trying to make you mad –”

Lois says, “Great fucking job so far, really a stellar example of –”

“I’m just saying,” Clark says loudly, “you don’t have to be drunk or so sleep deprived you’re hallucinating to talk to me about what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me except you!” Lois snarls, her voice way too high, the words way too fast. “Jesus, Clark. Newsflash, I’ve had ten near-death experiences just this year, and it’s barely April! And I’m fine. Just because you freak out at the first sign things are going south doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t handle it.”

Clark nods once, his face shuttering.

The guilt hits her like a freight train. She – she didn’t mean any of that. It just came out, in the heat of the moment.

Clark has proven plenty of times that he’s no coward. 

“I see,” Clark says, and the contrast between her sharp tone and his defeated words couldn’t be starker. “In that case, I’ll probably head back to bed. You’re welcome to stay over until your flight tomorrow.”

She forces out past the lump in her throat, “You’re leaving?”

Clark inhales a slow breath. “No, Lois. As far as I see it, you’re leaving, for Kansas, of all places,” he barks a short, humorless laugh. He meets her eyes. “But, let me remind you, you don’t have to. Nobody is forcing you to get on that plane.” He starts to get up. 

“Clark, wait.”

Clark freezes, half sitting, half standing, hovering awkwardly over the bar stool. 

Lois rakes a hand through her hair, frizzing at her temples and curling at the ends. “I – I came here because I couldn’t handle being alone. I thought I’d have an easier time convincing you to go Kansas than anywhere else. I haven’t slept in three days. I blew through all three of my emergency smoke packs. I know I look like a trainwreck.”

“Lois,” Clark says as he slowly gets to his feet, “I mean this with all respect for you as a woman and a reporter, but I’ve definitely seen you look worse.” He circles the counter, arms already outstretched. 

“You’re such an ass,” Lois mumbles as he envelopes her in a firm hug.

“It’s been said before,” Clark rumbles in her ear. “Mostly by Ma when I eat the last slice of pie and don’t tell her.”

Lois chuckles a watery laugh. “Apple pie from Annette’s?”

“Of course.” He pulls back, smoothes down her hair and eyes her seriously. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. Or I can camp out at your place – you have a better view than I do.”

“Mm hm,” she hums as she wipes at her eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clark promises as he wraps her in another hug. 

“That’s what I thought about him,” Lois says into his shirt. 

Clark freezes. 

“And I know it’s irrational. I know it’s crazy. I know it’s probably my PMS talking. But he – he’s never not shown up. I waited,” she hiccups, “I waited for an hour after everything died down, and he never showed. He’s always apologized before. He’s always found the time. And I keep wondering – did I push him too far? Is he,” her breath hitches, “is he finally tired of everything I put him through? It’s been five years of this shit.”

“No, no, never,” Clark swears, hugging her tighter. 

“I wouldn’t blame him.”

“I would.”

Lois snorts. She draws back, horrified at the snot she sprayed all over Clark’s shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just a shirt,” Clark says quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But –”

He cuts her off with a swift kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

She stares up at him, a strange, foreign heat curling deep in her belly the longer he stays there, not moving, leaving their mouths inches apart. 

She surges up on her tiptoes and kisses him. 

It takes her only a fraction of a second to realize he isn’t kissing her back. In fact, it’s quite like kissing a statue, which Lois once did on a dare on a 7th grade field trip to the Art Museum of Star City. He’s warm, unlike the marble, but that’s really her only saving grace.

God, her face feels like it’s on fire. She skitters back, looking anywhere but at Clark. “Right, um,” she says, and, Jesus Christ, what should she do with her hands? She plasters them to her thighs. No, that’s awkward. She shoves them in her pockets instead. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she says, the words nearly tripping over themselves in her haste to get them out. “It’s late. I’m a mess. You’re… too nice.”

In her peripheral vision, Clark just blinks, slack-jawed, at her.

“I think I’ll actually head home. Might be better for – well, I’m sorry.”

Clark swallows. “You already said that.”

“Sorry,” Lois says automatically before she snaps her jaw shut with an audible click. “Shit, now I’m sounding like you.” She backs out of the kitchen, awkwardly ambling blindly through the doorway with her hands still shoved in her pockets. “You apologize too much,” she brilliantly comes up with next, and, god, she could hit herself since Clark has not apologized once while she’s acting like a runner-up in the apology Olympics. She’s making no fucking sense, and Clark is going to leave, and she’s going to lose the best friend she ever had, the one who has always been there for her when it counted, because she has such shit impulse control –

“I think you need to sleep,” Clark says gently. He pushes his glasses back into place; they got knocked askew when she jumped him.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she agrees quickly. “Where’s my purse? I think I –”

“Stay,” Clark says as he nudges her in the direction of his bedroom. “It’s too late to head back to your place.”

“I don’t want to make you uncom –”

“I insist,” Clark says. “If you’re going to leave, you’re going to have to go through me first.”

She tries again, “But –”

“You’re exhausted,” Clark points out. “And short – even in heels. You’re not going to win this.”

Lois grimaces. “This is ridiculous.”

“Sure is,” Clark says amiably. “But then again, you wouldn’t be Lois Lane if you gave up at the first sign of resistance. That said, I’m afraid you’re going to lose this battle.”

“You're serious,” she says as she pulls her hands out of hear pockets to twist them anxiously together. “You really want me here? After... I... did that?” She swallows. “This isn't just your midwestern manners talking?”

“No,” Clark says simply.

She shakes her head. “You’re still an ass for calling me short. I’ll stay. But,” she points a finger in his face, “I’m finally taking the couch.”

“I can’t let you sleep on the couch,” Clark says, scandalized.

“Sure you can,” Lois says as she holds up her hand. “Rock paper scissors.”

“Just take the bed,” he sighs. “You always have in the past.”

“Unless you’re going to bodily haul me over your shoulder like a caveman,” she says shrewdly, “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Clark loses rock paper scissors. As she makes up the couch with his help (she couldn’t win that one), he says without meeting her eyes, “I think you might be onto something with the secret identity thing.”

Lois’s fingers tighten around the cushion in her hands. “Seriously?”

Clark smiles, but there’s something off about it. He’s nervous, maybe scared? They’ve already turned off most of the lights, she’s practically seeing double with exhaustion, and he’s half-turned away from her. 

She can’t get a read on him at all.

“Give me a few days.” He swallows. “I might take you up on that trip to Kansas after all.”

Read the next Part V here!

Head back to Part I here!

[tixdixl]

Wishmaster's Conga Line - Fan Event Vignette

Event Banner by @ramshacklerumble

MC: Sebek Zigvolt

Characters: Sebek Zigvolt, Kalim al Asim

Word Count: 1,957

CW: None

A/N: I couldn't wait to for his base card to be finished. I had a very specific idea for Sebek's Groovy and I needed to bring it to life, even if the art takes me a while. Hope you enjoy!

🎶🎵🎶

“ALRIGHT, BALD MOUNTAIN, PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER!”

The crowd roared. They threw their hands together in a near rhythmic unison. The sheer volume and audacity of the crowd’s clapping drowned out any random stragglers that failed to keep the tempo. In routine concert fashion, the kick drum thundered at the core of the solo. The symbols reverberating against the rapping of the drumsticks. After a few bars, the lead guitar began to shred. Its rifts and trills thrusting out a wave of excitement through the many fans down below.

Standing with the rest of the crew, Sebek joined in the clapping, though largely he needed to take a short break after getting thrown to the floor. Even though someone had picked him up, the collision with the ground knocked the wind out of him. He considered it a necessary training. And he took the self-reflective note of criticism as a place to improve, to prevent losing his balance. And even still, he didn’t want to leave the crowd. To leave the energizing atmosphere which engulfed the entire space.

The mosh pit still rumbled below the stage. He could return whenever he was ready.

“Oi!” came the vibrant and nearly drowned out call of the Scarabia housewarden.

Sebek ignored the call, assuming that Kalim wasn’t addressing him. He continued to clap to the beat. His heels popped ever so slightly in tempo, as if he couldn’t stop the music from taking the reins and maneuvering him like a puppet. Despite the earplugs, he felt the bass surging through his chest like an earthquake.

“OI!!”

He ignored it again. This time, Kalim’s voice sounded closer, like he was approaching him. But without the use of names, Kalim could have been addressing anyone. Thus, he kept his focus on the stage, watching as the guitarists battled against each other in a brawl of notes.

A random concert attendee suddenly crossed his path. Rhythmically jogging, the person passed by, nearly shoulder checking him as they weaved between the bodies. He kept on his toes though, taking 2 steps back before impact. To his surprise though, another person followed suit. Then another. And another. Until he fully turned his gaze to the incoming train of bodies that linked together in a harmonious little prance. Before he could fully process the situation involving before him, an arm reached out from the chain and gripped Sebek by the vest. A rather harsh yank extracted him from the crowd. And just as he got his bearings, that same hand tossed him into the chain and pushed him along.

“SEBEK!!!” Kalim cheered, somehow piercing through the active ambiance and reaching his eardrums.

“WH!? REMOVE YOUR HANDS FROM ME, YOU-”

“KEEP THE CONGA-LINE MOVING, SEBEK!!!” the reply burst into a cloud of bubble like giggles.

The momentum of the chain pulled him along, completely preventing him from being able to stop the pace. He recognized immediately his three options: follow the chain; break off the chain; stop and be trappled.

His feet moved automatically. Keeping time, like the march of soldiers on a battle field. Left, right, left, then right again. And yet somehow, the gentle yet firm hands on his shoulders seemed to shift its weight, like a flowing waterfall. Powerful. Graceful. Ever changing. Kalim didn’t move like the person in front of him. The housewarden sung along to the words now ringing out into the arena. Something about the tug on his shoulders matched the words being sung. He didn’t understand it.

“HUMAN!” The reptilian fae called out to the housewarden, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SHOULDERS!?”

His own voice barely tore through the membrane of the melody.

“HUH!? NOTHING!” Kalim answered jovially, “JUST HANGING ON!!”

“NO, I CAN FEEL YOU PULLING BACK ON THEM. ARE YOU TRYING TO STOP THE MARCH!?”

“NOPE! JUST HANGING ON!” Kalim insisted.

“THEN STOP JOSTLING ME AND HOLD YOUR OWN WEIGHT!” the fae scolded, though it seemed the performance ate his shout.

Another loud “RAAAAAAH” tore through the arena, practically loud enough to shatter the very air around them. The train continued to chug, though on occasion, Sebek noticed that many of the figures in the train would run with only one hand gripping the person in front of them. Fist pumping and throwing up their fists while still keeping in line. He hated to admit it marginally impressed him.

He refocused instantly as another tug on his shoulder nearly forced him off his footing. Whatever it was Kalim was doing, he needed it to stop.

“ENOUGH!” the fae yelled, tearing himself from Kalim’s grip, “UNHAND ME!”

He peeled off from the chain, slowing his momentum to a standard walking speed before he glanced around. In that moment, he needed to re-find his crew.

🎵🎶🎵

“OI!!”

The call came again. Like a chime on the wind, a metallic clopper against wooden tubes, Kalim’s voice pierced through the lull in the air. As the reptilian fae stood by the water cooler, handing some madol to the vendor.

“SEBEK!!”

He couldn’t deny the addressee. He couldn’t deny how bold and brilliant the energy of the sun beam hit him, even if he hadn’t the slightest clue why.

Taking the water from the vendor, he took a few steps out of the way of the flow of traffic. Sebek glanced over his shoulder at the housewarden, bolting down the opening in the crowd toward him. Kalim’s gait resembled a deer. He half expected the older student to simply take someone out as he bounded down the aisle. Yet, he never did. The sunny student weaved through the crowd, juat barely stopping at his feet.

“Did you have fun in the conga line?” the housewarden asked, his smile beaming brighter than the spotlight on a stage.

“A conga line?” the reptilian fae repeated, “Are you referring to that weird human chain you ensnared me into?”

“YEAH! Wasn’t it fun!?”

Oblivion seeped into Kalim’s being. The cloud of innocent ignorance engulfed him like a fog machine. Did he not realize how the undulation of his movements disrupted his own flow? Or perhaps, maybe Sebek failed to understand the training exercise.

“I don’t know as I would call it fun since you kept tugging at my shoulders,” Sebek chided.

The housewarden opened his eyes and blinked.

“What do you mean?”

His question remained teemed with that genuine naiveté he always wore, seemingly like a coat.

“While we were marching, you kept tugging back on my shoulders, like you were trying to knock me off my balance. I will give you that as annoying as it was, it was excellent practice in keeping upright,” Sebek paused, “But I wouldn’t call that upright.”

Kalim stared at him. Confusion dripped from every expression like a dewey glaze.

“You’ve never jammed out in a conga line before?” he asked, again genuine.

“That was jamming out?” the fae couldn’t hold back the smirk from rising to his lips.

“Yeah!!!” Kalim replied enthusiastically, “Sometimes you just gotta let the music take over!!”

He stared at the housewarden. Perplexed by the sentiment, he took a deliberate sip of his water, buying him time to put his thoughts together. The other audience members seemed to only jog. He couldn’t recall many of the others “jamming out” in the way Kalim seemed to be jostling about before.

“What?” the housewarden asked, perking up. His smile remained plastered on his face as he spoke, “Have you never jammed out like that before?”

The reptilian fae raised a brow. He felt certain he understood what exactly the housewarden meant. And yet, how could he have genuinely had a point of reference when Kalim held onto his shoulders, positioned behind him in the march? Mild frustration began to truly simmer at the open naiveté.

“I have,” Sebek retorted boldly, “I happen to pride myself as one who ‘rocks hard’. However, I have a distinctive reason to believe that our definitions of a ‘jam out’ might not be equal.”

“Does it matter?” Kalim asked, nonchalantly. The lackadaisical tone and accompanying underlying statement tore through him and his stance like a crossbow bolt.

Was it a test against his cultural understanding? Was it simply that he didn’t value the art of moshing enough to retsin proper form? Did he think that “anything goes” at a concert venue? That the simple existence of music warranted the same behavior across genre?

His brows furrowed. The frustration slowly climbed to a boil as he watched the older student glance about the crowd a moment. Kalim’s demeanor continued to retain that same carefreeness that he spoke with. And frankly, the lack of sincereness aggravated him.

“I would think it should!” he exclaimed, “After all–”

“Uh, sorry, bud but uh–” the vendor interrupted him, also clearly irritated, “Could you get out of the way, please? You’re blocking traffic.”

🎶🎵🎶

The duo moved farther away from the vendor, and away from the ever shifting crowd. Much like a snake, it rippled and coiled as the many bodies waddled and loitered about. And with each step, ambient crowd created a distinctive rhythm. Yet, Kalim seemed to carry some sort of internal tune, as if he operated on a totally different wavelength. Sebek attempted to stifle his frustration briefly as he followed behind. For a moment, he seriously contemplating ditching the older student entirely. As his eye spotted a few other familiar faces, those of others who joined in on the trip, the debate grew louder, more prominent in his head. But just as he began to act, a hand gripped his wrist and tugged. The older student pulled him along as he headed toward the crowd.

“HUMAN!” Sebek shouted, his frustration no longer held back, “STOP THIS AT ONCE!”

“Come on!!” Kalim beckoned him once again, “The next band is taking the stage!!”

Despite his protests, the older student’s deceptively strong grasp never faltered. Practically yanking his arm from its socket, Sebek flew behind him like a pet owner hanging onto a leash.

When they reconvened with the rest of the squad, Sebek expected that Kalim would simply break off, fluttering over to a few of the students that he recognized as Kalim’s inner circle. And yet, he stayed by the fae’s side. At least for the moment, he kept glued to the Diasomnia student, like he fully intended to stick around for the duration of the set. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to see exactly what it was that Kalim meant by “jamming out”. If nothing else, he recognized the training potential of having to react to his surroundings, and particularly so when his surroundings included an unpredictable party animal.

Perhaps, he could channel that frustration into an exercize of endurance. Not like it wouldn’t come in handy down the road.

Even before the set began, Kalim seemed to dance to the beat of his own drum. And despite other contexts suggesting otherwise, in this case, he thought it very literal. The Scarabia student, with hands clenched into softened fists, pulled his elbows back repeatedly, swaying side to side. His knees bounced ever so slightly in a dance to an unsung song. And in the moment, he realized that this level of stamina and endurance would be the bar he’d have to match for the duration of the set.

A surprisingly real challenge.

The next band took their places. Each one of them stood ready and with an instrument or microphone in hand. And as the lead singer grabbed the mic, a golden eye slid to the side. Its slitted pupil stole an observing glance at the ball of energy radiating beside him. Before anyone could say anything, the crowd erupted once again.

“GOOD EVENING, BALD MOUNTAIN! WHO’S READY TO FIGHT. SOME. DRAGONS!??!?!?!”

🎵🎶🎵

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @the-trinket-witch @twstinginthewind @elenauaurs @cyanide-latte

@theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter @sunsmilu @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @starry-night-rose

@twst-the-night-away @cyn-write @oseathepebble @twstchaos @tinyvirgodoodle

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

i need to get fucked by tom when he realizes how turned on i get from him humping his guitar 💀

live every second | Tom Kaulitz

you stood behind the scenes, your arms folded against your chest as you smiled brightly watching tom run around the stage and jump.

he kept inciting the fans to scream as a grin spread across his face. they were all rocking it.

the show had been amazing, everything was impeccable, and the crowd was CRAZY. i had never seen such a turned up crowd.

they were singing “live every second” now and of course, the fans knew every word. i found myself singing too as i danced with my best friend, jessica, she was gustav’s girl.

finally, the part that i think everyone was waiting for arrived. tom and georg stopped playing as gustav’s drums accompanied bill’s singing as he said “live every second”.

your heart began to beat faster knowing what tom was about to do.

“he’s doing it. he’s doing it.” you repeated to jessica as she laughed, grabbing you arm.

tom took his guitar and as usual, he began humping it, his hips going back and forth. the crowd screamed even louder than before and you just wanted to join them, even though he was your boyfriend.

“oh girl, that’s what he will do to you tonight.” your friend said while she kept giggling at your expression.

your jaw was literally about to touch the ground. why did this turn you on so much? you saw him do it at every show but it never failed to make you want him right there.

it didn’t help that tom turned to look at you and winked with a smirk on his stupid but handsome face.

you shook your head at him while pressing your lips together. he knew what he had done.

right after the song ended, the band took a break. they came behind the stage, trying to get some fresh drinks.

tom walked towards you, kissing you as soon as he got closer, his hands on your waist, stroking the skin with his thumbs. he found his way to your core, rubbing over my panties and you gasped, looking around to see if anyone was watching.

“tom, you’re crazy.” you stopped his hand movement and intertwined your fingers together.

“i saw how you looked at me.” he whispered with a cocky smirk on his face, “we’re not done. just wait until we’re over, i’m gonna make you cry.”

was all he said before going back on stage. you stood there, speechless.

——————————

“what a good fucking show!” bill exclaimed as they all came back. the concert had finished and they were all sweaty and tired, but happy.

all the staff and of course you and jessica clapped your hands and hyped them up.

tom took a bottle of water and drank it fully. you watched as his adam’s apple went up and down.

“i messed up a bit.” he said right after he finished the bottle, throwing it away.

you could see he wasn’t that satisfied with himself and it made your heart ache. “what? you were amazing.”

“yes tom, you know i would make fun of you if you messed up.” bill said laughing.

you went up to him ready to hug him but he stepped back, “baby, i’m all sweaty. i look fucking disgusting.”

you rolled your eyes and hugged him anyway, resting your face against his chest, not caring of what he was saying. he wrapped his arms around you.

“why don’t we finish what we started earlier?” he whispered in your ear. you looked up at him with a sly smile and nodded.

“guys, we’re going to sleep a bit.” tom said taking your hand in his.

“yeah…sleep.” jessica held back a laugh while side eyeing you two.

he took you to his changing room, slamming the door behind him before pushing you against it making you yelp.

his lips kissed yours hungrily, his hands traveled roughly across your body, removing quickly your top, leaving only in your bra. he squeezed your breasts as he watched them in his hands, biting his lower lip.

“fuck. so hot.” he continued to squeeze them and massaging them gently, making you let out small moans. your hands went inside his big shirt, he understood you wanted it off and he quickly threw it away.

you observed his toned chest, stroking it and feeling his muscles beneath your hands meanwhile he took off your jeans.

his big hands cupped your ass and he kissed your neck, leaving marks on your skin.

“p-please tom.” you just wanted him, feel him inside you.

“what? use your words.” he teased as he took off his belt and baggy jeans, remaining in his underwear that clearly showed how hard he was.

“i want you in me.” you took your time, stroking every part of his upper chest and arms, giving attention to his biceps, abs, back muscles, everything.

tom revealed his length, taking it in his hand and stroking it a bit. “take off your panties.”

you did as he said, showing him your most private part. you always got shy as if it was the first time.

his hands went under your thighs, picking you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. he could feel the heat coming from you against his skin.

his teased you sliding up and down his tip, making you squirm against him. “c’mon tom! please just fuck me.”

“was it so hard to say?” he smirked and put him himself inside you quickly, making you arch your back against the door.

“shit! you always feel so good around me.” tom groaned beginning to plump in and out of you.

“mmh, i’m so wet for you daddy.” you moaned kissing his neck, making him hiss when you found his spot right beneath his ear.

“fuck fuck fuck. i know you are. shit keep doing it.” his pace became fast as his fingers were deep inside your skin.

you continued leaving wet kisses on his neck, loving hearing him groan in pleasure. you moaned on his skin when he hit your sensitive spot.

“mmh, you were wet even before. you’re such a slut for me even seeing me with my guitar turns you on.” his hand wrapped around your neck, plying with your ability to breath.

“you know i-i am, just for you daddy.” you loved making him feel like the only man in the world, because he was at least for you.

“i know baby, you belong to me, say it.” you could hear the door creaking and slamming as he kept pushing you against it with his pace.

“i-i’m yours! oh my god!” you almost screamed, tears forming in your eyes for the pleasure you were feeling and he had to cup your mouth so that no one heard you.

“shh. look how deep i am inside you.” he watched as his dico went in and out of you, seeing a little bump in your lower belly. he pressed on it, making you roll your eyes back and moan against his palm.

he kept pushing, rotating his hips causing more friction before starting with his previous pace.

you clenched around him as your nails scratched his back, letting him know you were so close and you felt him twitch inside you. you were both ready.

“fuck! i’m coming inside you!” tom groaned and you nodded frantically, not being able to say something coherent.

you came before him, pushing your hips forward against him as your mouth hanged open, only moans coming out of it.

his juices coaxed your walls and he kept pushing, riding out his high.

“fuck-king. slut.” he said with the last pushes before stopping, his head falling between your neck.

he let you down, your arms still wrapped around his neck for balance because of your trembling legs.

neither of you said anything, you just tried to catch your breath as you guys gave each other small pecks.

“i love you.” tom said after awhile, placing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“i love you too.”

little did you guys know that everyone else heard you.

[latenightreadingpdf]

A Happy Halloween - Marauders Era

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: At the Hogwarts Halloween party, Y/N plays matchmaker, leading to a magical night full of romance, laughter, and a bit of mischief among the Marauders.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Gryffindor girls’ dorm was buzzing with excitement, every inch of space covered in notebooks, bits of parchment, and quills. A huge bowl of sweets from Hogsmeade sat in the middle of the floor, quickly diminishing as the girls threw out idea after idea for Halloween.

“We need something iconic,” Marlene said, plopping down on her bed with her legs crossed, fingers drumming on her knee. “Something that’ll turn heads and make everyone wish they’d thought of it first.”

Mary grinned, popping a chocolate frog into her mouth. “Yeah, but it’s got to be a group costume, too. Last year, half the school went as duos, and it was chaos trying to figure out who was who. Imagine if we rolled in as a full set. People would lose their minds!”

Dorcas leaned back, eyes gleaming. “What about fairies? Like…the Winx Club?”

“Too niche,” Lily replied with a slight smirk. “Maybe we’re aiming too young. What about something bold, like superheroes?”

The room exploded with ideas, each one stranger than the last. You leaned in, head on your hand, as they debated.

“What if we did Mario Kart characters?” you suggested, leaning in and wiggling your eyebrows.

Marlene snorted, reaching for another candy. “What, are we all supposed to carry around fake steering wheels all night?”

Dorcas snapped her fingers, eyes bright. “Ooh, ooh! Minions! We could be, like, a whole army of yellow.”

Mary burst into laughter. “The only ‘minion’ we’d look like is a nightmare with the amount of yellow we’d have to wear.”

At this point, they were sprawled out across the floor and each other's beds, snickering at the ridiculousness of it all.

“What if we tried Disney princesses?” Alice suggested finally, shrugging as she threw it into the mix.

Marlene and Lily’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Oh my god, that’s perfect,” Marlene exclaimed. “And we can put our own spin on it, make it look classy but still hot.”

Lily clapped her hands, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “We can each pick one and go all out. It’ll be like our own royal court, but dangerous and…beautiful!”

Everyone buzzed with excitement as you all quickly claimed your princesses, with Marlene insisting she had to be Aurora and Mary immediately taking Snow White. Dorcas was going as Tiana, and Lily being Megara. Alice obviously going as Alice from Alice in Wonderland and you end up choosing to be Belle.

By the time you’d dug through your trunks, swapped clothes, and haphazardly stitched what you could, everyone had their costumes mostly ready. Just a few last touches were needed, but it was time for dinner, and with a collective sigh, the girls abandoned their fabric chaos to make their way down to the Great Hall.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As they entered, the Marauders were already at their usual table. Predictably, James shot up when he spotted Lily, putting on his best charming smile. "Evans," he greeted, clearly fishing for a reaction.

"Potter," she replied, unimpressed but with a glint in her eye that made Y/N smirk. Lily would never admit it, but the way she looked at James sometimes—like he’d just hung the stars for her—was hard to miss.

As they sat down, Y/N leaned in and whispered, "Why do you keep shutting him down? You know he really likes you."

Lily rolled her eyes but bit back a small smile. "He's just... a lot to deal with. And he's dramatic."

Still, Y/N could see the way Lily’s gaze trailed back to him as she spoke. Y/N had a plan forming, one that just might break down Lily’s walls once and for all.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Dinner didn’t take long. You could feel everyone’s eagerness to get back to the costumes; the group energy was practically bubbling as you finished dessert and prepared to head out. You were about to follow the girls out when a sudden idea hit you like lightning. Heart racing, you quickly told them, “I left something on the table, go ahead—I’ll catch up!”

You darted back into the Great Hall, skidding to a stop at the Gryffindor table. James blinked, surprised to see you there. “Y/N? Did you need something?”

“Yes,” you said, catching your breath, a smirk forming on your face. “So, here’s the thing: the girls and I are doing a group costume for Halloween—Disney princesses. Lily’s going to be Megara. You should be her Hercules.”

Peter raised his hand. “Wait, but we were going to be Ghostbusters!”

“Shut it, Wormtail,” James interrupted, eyes glinting with excitement. “Y/N, you are absolutely brilliant! You’re the best wing woman ever, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

You grinned, knowing this might be the perfect plan to bring them closer. “She’ll be surprised, so don’t let on that I told you.”

After quick goodbyes, you dashed out to rejoin the girls. As you made your way up to the common room, you could practically picture the Halloween party—James dressed as Hercules, swooping in with some over-the-top line. It was going to be perfect.

When you arrived back at the dorm, the girls were waist-deep in costumes, trying to make the last adjustments. Dorcas waved a green sash at you, and Marlene threw a handful of glitter into the air, declaring, “Princesses of Gryffindor, we are ready for Halloween!”

And as you looked around at the chaos and excitement, you couldn’t help but smile, satisfied with your master plan. Halloween was going to be unforgettable, and with any luck, it might just be the night Lily finally sees James the way he’s always seen her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The night of the Halloween party had arrived, Marlene’s playlist blasted through the dorm, a mix of upbeat tunes that kept them all hyped as they perfected their costumes. They took turns braiding hair, applying lipstick, and laughing about how they'd pulled this whole Disney princess thing together with their limited wardrobe and a lot of creative swapping.

As they descended the stairs to the common room, they were met with the sound of laughter and music echoing through the halls. The room was buzzing with students dressed in an eclectic mix of costumes, and Y/N could feel her excitement growing.

“Holy Merlin,” Lily muttered beside her, freezing in place.

Y/N followed her line of sight and almost laughed. There, in all his muscled glory, stood James Potter in a Hercules costume that made the costume look straight out of a Greek myth. He looked incredible—his broad shoulders and arms on full display, his hair charmingly tousled beneath a golden headpiece.

Lily was staring. Hard.

Trying not to grin too wide, Y/N nudged her. “Please don’t be mad, but… I kind of told James to go as Hercules. It seemed fitting, don’t you think?”

Lily shot her a half-hearted glare, but a reluctant smile broke through. “I want to be mad… but it’s actually kind of sweet he’d do that.” She paused, her cheeks going pink as she muttered, “Plus, he looks… really good.”

They burst into laughter, which caught James’s attention from across the room. Spotting Lily, he straightened up, his usual bravado suddenly replaced with nervous excitement. He came over, cheeks tinged with a blush.

“Lily,” he started, voice soft and sincere, “you look beautiful.” He held out his hand, barely hiding his nerves. “Would you like to dance?”

Lily’s surprise was evident, but she didn’t hesitate for long. She nodded, slipping her hand into his, and Y/N saw the look of pure disbelief on James’s face. Before they stepped onto the dance floor, he shot Y/N a look of pure gratitude, mouthing thank you. She winked back, feeling like a matchmaker extraordinaire.

With the night in full swing, Y/N wandered through the crowd, catching up with friends. Eventually, she bumped into Remus, who gave her a warm hug.

“Hey! So, what did you all decide to go as for Halloween, since James bailed?” she asked, grinning.

Remus smirked and gently turned her by the shoulders. There, in the corner, was Sirius Black in a Gaston costume, flexing and striking ridiculous poses to impress the girls around him.

“Sirius,” Remus explained, holding back a laugh, “doesn’t know much about Beauty and the Beast. He thinks Gaston is the hero who wins the princess.”

Y/N’s face twisted in horror and amusement as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Oh, no,” Remus chuckled. “I’m letting him figure that out himself.”

Her laughter bubbled over, and she shook her head. “Remus, you’re evil.”

You quickly look Remus up and down trying to figure out what he’s supposed to be, but it doesnt look like he has a costume on and you look at him confused.

He gave a soft shrug, his smile a bit sly. “I’m actually the Beast, for… obvious reasons.”

She blinked, processing his dark sense of humor, and let out a giggle. “You know, I really shouldn’t be laughing at that.”

He chuckled, nudging her lightly. “But it’s true.”

Her laughter was interrupted by a question. “Where’s Peter, though?” she asked, scanning the room.

Remus nodded toward the far corner, where Peter stood dejectedly in his Ghostbusters costume, arms crossed. “He’s still trying to make the rest of us feel guilty for ditching the group costume.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back a laugh. “He’ll get over it,” she said, grinning. They shared a knowing look before the crowd swept her away.

As she caught glimpses of James and Lily laughing together on the dance floor, Sirius flexing dramatically, and Peter moping in his Ghostbuster getup, Y/N felt a sense of warmth and satisfaction. This was the kind of Halloween she’d dreamed of—a night full of laughter, a bit of chaos, and just the right amount of magic.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ Just a quick one-shot i threw together to comfort all you Marauder fans out there on this sad day. Happy Halloween everyone!! stay safe <3

[hereghostslive]

Tidbit Tuesday

tagged by @liminalmemories21

i've shared this before, i think, though it's probably been like a year since i did. this is from my fic called Staring at ghosts, which still has only one chapter posted but i love this fic so much. i have no idea when i'll finish it so here's a lot of this section.

-

A soft pelting wakes him. The rain is barely noticeable. Like ocean waves crashing onto the beach, it creeps into the back of the mind and settles in. Any other time, the rhythmic dance against the window pane could lull him back to sleep. But their disruption pulled him away from a dream of endless hospital hallways. He’s not eager to return.

Raindrops make their descent down the windows. He follows each droplet as they finish their journey, dissolving into each other, and remembers how he outran each storm that came for him out on the road, moving from one place to the next, barely looking back. There’s only so much running one can do in a lifetime. 

This time, he waits. 

It’s not long before the soft pelting turns into harsh beats of a drum. It’s impossible now to track each individual raindrop against the glass. They’re a cacophony, battering against the will of modern design. A flash illuminates the room soon after the rain picks up, there and gone again, plunging him back into darkness. 

He holds his breath, and starts counting. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven

He makes it to 30 before he hears the rumble. He lets out his breath. Still six miles away. 

The clock on the nightstand reads 1:37 a.m. 

A little earlier than expected but he supposes it’s not an exact science. Still, if he had known it was going to arrive shortly after midnight he would have just waited it out downstairs. Made some excuse about still being wired from his shift, and go about his usual chores when a storm makes an appearance at night. Anything to keep him occupied, but this time the allure of his bed and its guest were too good to pass up, and anyway, the weather people said 4 a.m.

Eventually, the full force of the storm arrives, like it was always going to. With each flash of lightning, the thunder comes more quickly. He doesn’t close his eyes to it, he can’t. 

He continues his count. 

One, two, three, four —

Boom!

The loudest clap of the night forces its way into his head, rumbling through the walls and all the way to his bones. It consumes him and burrows its way into his very being. 

It’s here. 

He watches the storm rage out his window for as long as he can, each flash of light blinding. There's beauty in it, he supposes. Past the walls of his building the city ignites into brief pictures of twinkling life. 

He rolls over, away from the window, to the other occupant in his bed.

Next to him, Tommy sleeps, undisturbed. He’s turned toward Buck, his slow breathing out-of-sync with the racing of his own. Buck reaches across the small gap that divides them, combing his hand through Tommy’s dark curls. 

He twists a finger around one curl, then lets it go. It stays in its new position until Buck smooths it back out. He pulls his hand back. 

“You don’t have to stop,” Tommy whispers, eyes still closed.

But Buck keeps his hands to himself this time. 

“Did you know it’s possible to be struck by lightning seven times over the course of one lifetime?”

Tommy’s eyes flicker open. He still looks half asleep and though Buck didn’t mean to wake him, he’ll take a captive audience whenever he can get one.

“That’s the record, anyway. Being struck by lightning even once is such a rare occurrence, could you imagine being struck seven times?”

Tommy yawns, lifting himself up slightly so that his head rests in his hand. 

“What do you think he says to his doctor every time it happens again?” Buck asks. 

“‘I know, I’m shocked too,’” Tommy answers, a small smile stretching across his lips.  

Buck laughs, rolling his eyes. “Ha. Nice one.” 

The smile fades from Tommy’s face. “Are you okay?”

Bucks sighs, flopping over onto his back. “Yeah, generally.” 

“Except … “ 

“Except …” Buck begins. 

Another flash lights up the room. Buck hears a quiet “oh” next to him. 

“Yeah,” Buck says. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Buck looks over at Tommy, who still looks half asleep but is also still holding himself up by his elbow, patiently waiting for Buck to talk, or not talk. He turns back to the ceiling, where the occasional lightning flash brightens the walls. In his mind, he can see the white, endless hallways stretching out before him. Though he escaped that place the first time, on nights like tonight, his dreams often take him back there, where his dead brother waves to him from across the way, with Buck unable to catch up, no matter how hard he tries.

-

tagging @beanarie @leashybebes @vamphours @alrightbuckaroo @bonheur-cafe

[guitarstringed-scars]

cantaloupe island

masterlist

chapter 2- red clay

as you walk onto the small, makeshift stage you feel completely at home. the restaurant is packed, and you spot familiar faces crowded around. a professor from university, friends, family members, and other acquaintances. you see people you don't know, but you know that they must be here because of their appreciation of the music. well, except for one. one who had introduced himself as atsumu miya.

“oh, my twin brother owns the place, i’m just here to help out. i hate jazz.” he had said after you asked him why he looked so familiar. he approached you as you talked to koutaro, just looking for a pre-show snack. you were very surprised about his jazz comment, obviously you weren’t just expecting him to know who you are exactly, but so openly hating on jazz at a jazz performance seemed ballsy. almost idiotic even.

you see him in the crowd now, talking to koutaro, looking completely embarrassed. red-faced with his hands waving around, and you can only assume he’s talking about what happened moments prior. you turn your attention back to the rest of the audience as you take your seat on the piano bench.

the fallboard is already open, and you lightly run your fingers over the keys before cracking your knuckles. you stretch your back as kuroo addresses the audience. he has his alto saxophone resting across his chest as he clutches the microphone.

“hello, good evening.” he speaks into the microphone, testing it. it’s working. “hope you are all enjoying the food so far, but it’s time to get started with some music. we are the osaka quintet, a jazz group based here in town. we’ve got a great set planned out for you tonight, but i want to introduce the band first!”

the audience claps as kuroo takes a pause, the whole room is listening intently to what he says, sitting on the edge of their seats and hanging onto every word. you catch a glimpse of atsumu out of the corner of your eye, hes gone quiet, and is now surprisingly listening carefully to what kuroo says. hes not looking at kuroo though, hes looking at you. you quickly look back to the piano keys.

“i’m tetsuro kuroo, i’ll be playing all kinds of saxophone tonight, this is hitoka yachi,” he gestures to her and she waves with her free hand. its a quick, nervous wave. “she’ll be on the trumpet… we’ve got keiji akaashi on bass,” a loud whoop goes up from koutaros corner of the room. you laugh a bit. “hajime iwazumi on drums, and the ever so talented y/n l/n on the piano!” you play a quick piano lick as the crowd applauds.

“we’re gonna start you off with a classic standard, red clay by freddie hubbard.” kuroo finishes with a smile before starting off the song.

every one of you freestyles at the beginning, before kuroo gives a nod. you all fall out except for iwazumi, who starts it off again. akaashi joins him after a bit. then it’s your turn. you focus in, making sure to hit every note perfectly. your eyes subconsciously flutter closed as yachi and kuroo join the rythum. the crowd is almost silent, you can tell they are all intently listening.

as the solo section approaches, you quickly take it away first, communicating with the rest of the quintet through intense eye contact. you’ve played this song many times before, as kuroo said, its a classic standard. your highschool jazz band wanted to play this song every performance, and you knew with the osaka quintet, all of you would know how to play the song.

during your solo, you focus in on the drum beat that iwa is playing. you lock your eyes on his right hand, watching it hit each beat. each note you play hangs in the air as the audience seems to breath it in.

as you come to the end of your solo, you lock eyes on kuroo. it’s his turn to take over. you fall back, taking a breath as kuroo starts his solo.

as the solo section comes to an end, the group all focuses, finishing off the song. you laugh, hitting the final notes. the audience whoops and cheers, as yachi and kuroo sip their waters. you look into the audience again, spotting atsumu. your eyes can’t seem to stop looking at him. he’s smiling, chatting with his brother. you hope he is coming around to liking jazz.

“alright, next up is night in tunisia!” kuroo announces.

fun facts:

-bokuto and y/n are like best friends but they never talk or set up plans with each other

-akaashi hates soloing, but surprisingly yachi loves it

taglist: @hyenagoated @yuminako @griocriedpower @lilchubbyyy @sagejin

@oshygoshy @sereniteav @jojo23allegra @atsumuenthusiast @mikauraurr

@garfieldissocool @savemebrazilhinata @osakis-gf @acowboykisser @froyaoya

@nbcvs @mylahrins @19calicos @wyrcan @chloiyoomi

@causenessus @diorzs @loverlunaire @s1ckntw1st3d

[pankowcrumbs]

Campfire chaos X Rudy Pankow (one shot requested)

Summary: During a serious scene with everyone around a campfire, Chase is trying to deliver an intense monologue. But, as he speaks, his voice cracks, and it turns into an accidental squeak that causes the whole cast to crack up. Rudy, not missing a beat, starts imitating the squeak in the background, and soon everyone is in fits of laughter. The director gives up trying to finish the scene and calls for a break as everyone’s sides hurt from laughing.

MasterList

Outerbanks and Cast Masterlist

The night was crisp, the campfire crackling softly as its flames danced in the cool air. The scene was set perfectly: all of us gathered around the fire, the golden light flickering against our faces as the weight of the story reached a critical moment. Chase, sitting at the centre of the group, was gearing up for his big monologue—a heartfelt speech that was meant to leave both us and the audience in stunned silence.

We’d rehearsed it earlier in the day, and Chase had nailed it every time. But tonight, with cameras rolling and the whole cast leaning into their roles, something was... off.

As Chase began to speak, his tone low and gravelly, the rest of us exchanged glances, trying to stay in character. I sat next to Rudy, who was already fidgeting in a way that made me nervous. His fingers drummed lightly on his knee, and I could tell he was itching to do something—anything—to break the tension.

Then it happened.

Chase’s voice, solid and commanding just moments before, cracked halfway through a sentence. Not just a small crack, but a full-blown squeak that echoed across the set.

“...and if we don’t find the—squeak!—treasure, it’ll be the end of everything!”

For a split second, no one moved. We were professionals, after all. We could handle this.

But then Rudy, ever the instigator, snorted. Not a small, discreet sound, but an uncontrollable snort that turned into laughter. And that was it. The floodgates opened.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to keep it together, but the image of Chase’s intense expression crumbling into embarrassment was too much. Next to me, Rudy had completely lost it, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back against the log he was perched on.

“Did... did you hear that?” Rudy managed to choke out between laughs. “He sounded like a cartoon mouse!”

Chase, still sitting in the centre of the chaos, groaned loudly and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, come on! I was in the zone!”

Rudy wasn’t done. He straightened up and cleared his throat dramatically, mimicking Chase’s serious tone. “If we don’t find the—squeak!—treasure...”

The rest of us exploded into laughter. Madelyn doubled over, clutching her stomach, while JD rolled off his log entirely, lying on the ground as tears streamed down his face. Even Drew, who was usually the most composed of us, was wiping at his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.

I leaned against Rudy for support, my sides hurting from laughing so hard. “Stop,” I gasped, barely able to get the word out. “You’re going to kill us!”

But Rudy was on a roll now. He started improvising an entire scene, squeaking his way through an imaginary monologue as he paced around the campfire. “And then... squeak!... we’ll sail into the sunset and... squeak!... defeat the bad guys!”

Chase tried to glare at him but failed miserably, his lips twitching as he fought to keep a straight face. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real venom.

The director finally stepped in, though even he was struggling to maintain some semblance of authority. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands. “Let’s take five. Clearly, no one is capable of being serious right now.”

We all dispersed, still giggling as we grabbed bottles of water or stretched out our aching muscles. Rudy stayed by the fire, still muttering “squeak!” under his breath and earning fresh rounds of laughter from anyone who heard him.

I wandered over to Chase, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed. His expression was a mix of frustration and amusement.

“Hey,” I said, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “You okay?”

He sighed, but a small smile broke through. “Yeah. It’s just... that was supposed to be my big moment, you know?”

I grinned. “Oh, it was big. Just not in the way you expected.”

Chase rolled his eyes but laughed anyway, the tension in his shoulders easing. “At least you’re honest.”

As we stood there, watching the rest of the cast recover from their fits of laughter, Rudy sauntered over, his trademark grin firmly in place.

“Chase,” he said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “I just want to thank you for providing the single funniest moment of my entire life.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Chase replied dryly, though he couldn’t hide his grin.

Rudy turned to me then, his hazel eyes twinkling mischievously. “You were losing it too, don’t deny it.”

“I was trying to stay professional,” I said, though my laughter betrayed me.

“Sure you were,” Rudy teased. “You were this close to falling off the log like JD.”

The three of us stood there, the warmth of the fire brushing against our faces as the chaos around us finally started to settle. It was moments like this—completely unplanned, ridiculously funny—that reminded me how lucky I was to be part of this cast.

The director called us back to set, and we reluctantly returned to our places around the fire. Chase took his position again, this time with a mock-serious expression that had us all stifling giggles.

“Alright,” the director said, clapping his hands. “Let’s try this again. And Rudy—no squeaking.”

“I make no promises,” Rudy shot back, earning another round of laughter.

As the cameras rolled once more, I caught Rudy’s eye. He gave me a subtle wink, and I knew it wouldn’t take much for him to start up again. But somehow, despite the lingering threat of another voice crack, we managed to get through the scene.

Barely.

When the director finally called “Cut!” for the last time that night, the entire cast erupted into applause and cheers, partly out of relief and partly because we couldn’t believe we’d actually done it.

As we packed up for the evening, Rudy slung an arm around my shoulders. “You have to admit,” he said, grinning, “that was the most fun we’ve had on set in weeks.”

I laughed, leaning into him as we walked back to base camp. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin widening. “But you love it.”

And honestly, I couldn’t argue with that.

[papajscupcake]

DON’T START SOMETHING YOU CAN’T FINISH DARLING

DON’T START SOMETHING YOU CAN’T FINISH DARLING | DAD!RAFECAMERON X MOMFEM!READER | IMAGINE

PAIRING: Dad!rafecameron x momfem!reader

SUMMARY: Rafe comes back from work and is welcomed home by his beautiful family

WORD COUNT: 1982

WARNING(S): they are aged up Rafe is 29 and reader is 28, just a lot of fluffy stuff and some suggestive comments

It was the beautiful sunny afternoon, the window’s were wide open letting in a gentle breeze to cool down the warm air of the home, The echo of the beach waves and the gentle rattle of trees and the sound of a Moana playing on the tv was being heard.

The 6 month pregnant woman laid on the couch with her hands playing with the ends of her 12 year old son’s light brown shaggy hair who was sleeping comfortably on her baby bump

The woman’s eyes were either watching her four year old daughter playing with her toys and or drawing on a piece of paper or the mother had her eyes closed resting like her son.

A small smile rests on the mother’s face watching the young blonde haired girl’s mouth gawk open as she gets engrossed in the movie Moana, a movie she has watched since she was a baby.

The woman glances at the clock on the wall, it was twenty minutes before Rafe would get back from work so with that she ran her hand on her son’s shoulder making him stir awake and look up to his mom with tired eyes.

“Sorry to wake you honey, but I need to get up”He yawned and dug his head further into her

“I can’t I’m comfortable”He muttered making the woman chuckle at the boy knowing that he has got it from his father who loves to use that as an excuse to not get up in the mornings

“You are just like your father”She commented as her son got off her and went to the other side of the couch before falling asleep again,

the woman sat up and pulled herself off the couch a hand cradling her stomach as she does so, her daughter turns her head at the sounds of her moving mother now forgotten about the movie playing

“Mommy where you go?”She asks innocently, the woman smiles and places a hand on her daughter’s blondish brown haired head

“I’m gonna make dinner, do you want to help?”The young girl eagerly nodded and abandoned the small Turtle toy her Aunt Kiara gave her and took her mom’s hand practically dragging the woman to the kitchen making her chuckle at her daughter’s excitement she had received from spending to much time with her uncle JJ.

“What we make mommy?”The infant asks rolling up the sleeves of her pretty red dress which was made by her aunt

“What would you want to have sweetheart?”She asked as she watched the infant drag over the small stepping stool she uses when she bakes with her mother

“Chicken daddy got!” She exclaimed as she made a drumming noise when she was tapping her hands on the counter the pregnant woman smiles and walked to the fridge , the younger girl cheered and clapped her hands as she watch her mom take out the chicken once the two gathered the ingredients they began to cook their meal for four well technically five

after a few minutes the eldest child couldn’t resist the callings of his little sister begging for him to join so groggily but with a smile to disguise his foul tired mood from his baby sister and began to help prepare the meal.

Rafe’s POV:

Once walking though the door of his families home, the smell of cooking chicken and home made potato wedges comes flooding into his nose, the man of the house licks his lips at the thought of the nicely prepared meal his wife of ten years had made, dumping his keys onto the shelf next to the front door and kicking his shoes off then shuffling to pull off his jacket

He makes his way through the rather big house for his liking but his father insisted that they should have a big home like Rafe did for the children to grow up in,

finally he catches the glimpse of his daughter running to the other side of the kitchen as her little feet patter along the hard wood floor he chuckled to himself as he followed the light chatter of his wife giving instructions to their son and small ‘be careful’s’ to their daughter who had practically leaped onto the small stepping stool from her previous hurried steps

finally making it to the kitchen the sight that is presented in front of him is his wife’s and son’s back to him and his daughter that’s was once on the stepping stool was now sitting comfortably on the counter

“what are you doing up there missy?”Rafe asked his daughter with a fake scolding tone the three of them turn and face him the youngest girl’s face lights up like a million fireflies at the sight of her father

“Daddy!”She exclaimed rushing to get off the counter which her older brother helps her to by lifting her up and down to the ground then back to stirring the peas and carrots in the pot onto of the hob

the young girl’s feet once again pattered along the floor and straight towards her daddy who had his arms wide open for her and bent down to her small and cute height the girl practically leaped into his arm almost knocking the wind out of his lungs

“oft! My favourite babygirl, oh you are so beautiful give daddy kisses”he exclaimed standing up while practically suffocating his daughter in little kisses which made his daughter giggle ecstatically trying to push his face away from hers

“daddy no more kisses!” She exclaimed happily trying to hide her face in the plam of her little hands

“oh but I missed you so so much baby girl”The man told his daughter beginning to make his way to the kitchen

“I missed you too daddy”the young girl mumbled and snuggled into the crook of his neck, He smiles and rest his head on hers as he walks into the kitchen and shuffles behind his son who was still stirring the pot of vegetables the father puts ruffling his hair as he passed him, his son turns his head to glance at his father and gives him a little smile

“Hi dad”He greeted before turning back to the cooking vegetables Rafe lent down and placed a kiss on his head

“Hey buddy”Rafe said and walked up his wife who’s back was facing him, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder

“Hello my love”he whispered into her ear pressing a kiss on the side of her neck

“Hey handsome”His wife smiled giving him a love filled gaze and looked back to the gravy she was making

“how is my lovely family doing today?”He asked out loud for his family to hear

“good! We make chicken you got- oh me made you something daddy!”The young girl gasped and wriggled out her father’s grip running out the kitchen

“mama the vegetables are done”Their son said making the woman turn around to face him Rafe followed suit with his body still tightly pressed against hers both his arms now around her slowly growing waist

“oh thank you honey, you can go back to sleep for about ten minutes before dinner”Their son nodded putting down the wet wooden spoon and practically skipped to the living room to sleep on the couch making the woman laugh at her son and look in the pot making sure her son was correct about the cooking food which he was

“what are you laughing at?”Rafe asked his wife turning her body around to face him making her automatically put her arms around his neck pushing her body closer to his as much as should could with the baby bump

“Nothing Love”She smiled and leaned up to his face puckering her lips before pressing a kiss onto his lips

He sinks into the kiss bringing a hand from her waist to her cheek pulling her closer to deepen the kiss after a moment they both pull away smiling almost giddily at each other, Rafe runs his thumb along the side of her jaw taken in every detail on her face the beautiful face he has already memorised

“You are so perfectly beautiful”Rafe whispered running his thumb along her cheek the woman smiled shyly feeling her cheeks warm up making her feel embarrassed and push her face into his neck

“Stopppp!” She whined into his neck making Rafe laugh and bring the hand that was previously on her cheek on to the back of her head and play with the hair of her head

“Aw you’ve gone all shy?! You are beautiful and adorable what a win for me!” Rafe teased causing her groan and hit his chest keeping her face in the crook of his neck the makes Rafe laugh more and kiss the top of her head the sound of hurried and loud patter of steps echo through the house coming from the top off the stairs

“You’re a mean idiot”She mumbled into his ear and giving it a little bite making yelp slightly at the action she giggles and break apart from their intimate hug and face the direction of the little stomps coming down the stairs

“You—you little…you just bit me!”Rafe whispered shouted

“yep deal with it sucker”Rafe gasped and went to say something but their daughter footsteps had finished Descending from the stairs trampling towards the room Rafe’s hand rests itself onto her waist and gives it a small pinch making her squeal and glare at the side of Rafe’s head with a little smile on her face

“oh it’s on country club” she whispered and smiled to her self beginning to think of ways to kick his ass in this little game Rafe glanced at his wife lifting an eyebrow at her and a little smirk rest its self on his Lips

“don’t start something you can’t finish darling” he mumbled leaning down to her ear she side eyed him and smirked a new upcoming confidence runs through her body

“or maybe don’t continue something you don’t know how to stop, Darling”she commented now raising her eye brown in question, Rafe’s eyes slightly widen at his wife’s new dominate nature

“what has gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining because this is so sexy”He leaned his head down to her neck and pressed a hungry seductive kiss that might make a little mark on her neck

“I think dinner is not the only thing I’ll eat ton-“He went to continue to whisper in her ear but their daughter charges into the room with a piece of paper clutched in her hand making the man give her neck one last kiss and pull away from her smiling at his daughter

“LOOK! Daddy me made this for you!”the young girl exclaimed failing to recognise her parent’s recent not so child-friendly game the young girl shoved the white paper into his body and bent down with overwhelming excitement with a massive smile plastered on her face and her arms curled into her chest trying to suppress all her energy

Rafe crouches down to her height and tapped his leg telling her to sit on his lap which she did instantly and comfortably sat herself onto his large thigh

“what is this baby girl?”Rafe asked putting a hand on her back making sure she wouldn’t fall off his leg the girl instantly began to point to each person and explain who it was and how she drew them while Rafe listened to every word intensely His wife placed a hand on his head playing with the small hairs of his buzz cut style head watching the way the love of her life interacts with her beautiful child making her feel as though she is the luckiest woman alive,

however a competition has started, a competition that will last until someone surrenders, who will stop being stubborn and quit? we will have to find out…

“Let the games begin” she mumbled with a sly smile Rafe heard this making a smirk cross his face

If you have any requests you want me to do either dm me or comment :)

[blue-jisungs]

red and blue colored jealousy

author's note. thank u zanna @slytherinshua for coloring the yul pic <333 i hope u enjoy it!!! the bestest boy ever :( also!! my yet another take on "eloquent" wording hehehehe 🤓☝️

word count. 1.9kish

warnings. its not a warning techinally lol but its fem!reader ++ reader is wearing a hanbok for women and has long hair.... theres no aos spoilers (i think) + its not specified when its taking place so feel free to interpret it ur way lol ++ not proof-read sorrrrryyyyyyyy

the tender music of kayagum, haegum, choktae and other instruments filled the room. the lights were slightly dimmed, a couple of candles casting shadows on the walls and curtains.

the crown prince sighed heavily, shifting on his seat.

“what is all of this?” he asked, fingers drumming against the wooden surface of the table. seo yul smiled softly, looking at uk.

“due to all the stress and hustle happening in the city, we decided to fill out spare time with some happiness” yul explained gently, nodding. park danggu shushed them, parting the table in excitement.

“it’s starting!”

go won was about to ask how could he tell but then some of the candles went out, as if a gust of wind did it. however, everyone felt a sudden invisible force causing them to shiver.

“did someone open the window…?” uk blinked and then they heard a faint rustle.

chwiseonru didn’t have a stage, to be frank. they just moved a couple of tables and cleared some space. the ladies sitting on the cushions, dressed in pink and purple coloured hanboks were on the ground. their fingers gently strummed their instruments, touches feather-alike.

suddenly, there were footsteps. everyone in the tavern noticed a woman.

she was wearing a black hanbok with crimson sewed details. small leaves and flowers adorned the cloth on the sides. she had her long hair braided, loosely put and swaying on her shoulder.

her hands were slim and her pointer finger was adorned with a red jewel. it shone beautifully, ruby and crimson glittering in the faint light. if one looked closer, they were about to realise it’s one of the half of ying and yang stone.

however, her face was hidden behind two fans. one of them was black with faint agate details, the other was an opposite – red with black sewings.

she held them in a way that hid her face, which only made the viewers more curious.

suddenly the pace of music fastened and the woman started flapping her fans a bit more rapidly. with swift and hypnotising moves of her body, she revealed her face.

she had some artistic makeup on her face: a curved line forming under her eyes that created a crooked circle, only to connect above her brows. two, small ruby stones were glued on her cheekbones symmetrically.

yul noticed the way the prince’s eyes widened, cheeks flushing and lips parting in awe. the mage scoffed, ignoring his friend’s gaze.

the performer moved gracefully, just like water. her moves were clean and gentle, the flutter of fans creating her own music. uk frowned upon noticing the similarities between some of her dance moves and chisu or even hwansu.

“she’s gorgeous” go won breathed out, his eyes focused on the dancer.

the performer’s face remained cold and expressionless, eyes trained in the audience. a brief eye contact with the prince caused him to smile and nod. whereas yul just clutched his fist, uk was growing more and more suspicious.

the song seemed to reach its climax, beat going faster and faster. nevertheless, the dancer didn’t fail to catch up, moves becoming more sharp and sturdy.

with a sudden thrust, the rest of the candles went out. briefly after, she finished the performance ending in the same position she started.

people started clapping and cheering, go won cleared his throat.

“who… is she?” he asked quietly, turning to the others. in the meantime, the servers lit up the candles again.

“l/n y/n” a female voice rung up from behind him, causing the crown prince to jerk in surprise.

yul sent you a soft smile, your face visible in the light once again.

the crown prince turned around and grabbed your hand, placing a gentle peck on the top of it.

“your performance was stunning. i have never seen anything like this in my entire life! the music, your moves and grace… truly breathtaking. how come i haven’t seen you perform before?” he asked, eyes sparking with adoration.

you chuckled sweetly, bowing elegantly.

“thank you, your highness. i had a break from performing… someone insisted i started dancing again which is why i’m here” you smiled and caught yul’s ebony irises on you. you couldn’t read his expression.

“thank gods that person convinced you. sincerely speaking, im fully mesmerised with you” the prince smirked, a playful smile dancing on his lips

“i’m pleased to hear that, my prince” you bowed once again, noticing uk’s sturdy gaze on you.

“i shall invite you to my castle one day”’ go won hummed. you nodded with a satisfied smile.

“i appreciate that you’re thinking so highly of me, my prince…” you started and looked above his head, only to meet seo yul’s gaze. you weren’t meant to finish as another compliment was landed at you.

“and your fans… may i have a look at them? they look absolutely stunning” he asked.

normally, you’d refuse. but it was the crown prince after all.

nodding and handing him your fans, you saw how he traced the detailed sewings on them.

“beautiful work. may i know by who was it made?” go won asked, rising his head up to look at you. he was amazed not only by your dancing skills but also your beauty. especially those e/c eyes.

“it was a gift from a dear friend of mine” you explained and took back the fans once he handed them to you.

“i see. will you perform again?” the crown prince asked, flirty tone in his voice.

you were meant to give just one dance.

but who were you to deny the majesty’s request?

you finished shortly after midnight, the moonlight sneaking through the windows. the prince wanted more and more, enchanted by you. only when he noticed that your musicians are getting tired, he decided to stop. bidding you farewell (not failing to shower you in compliments once again), he was gone. the ordinary people went home, leaving just a couple of drunkards and the mages left. they decided to return to the jeongjingak.

when you left, they stayed for a bit longer to finish their drinks. yul put his hands on his thighs, observing the crown prince.

“i’m really enchanted. who invited her?” the man asked. uk was about to snicker a joke about being so love-struck.

“yul! yul knows y/n, they’re good friends!” danggu yelled out, a bit more louder than he intended. yul felt his eyes widening as the prince’s thundering gaze shifted to him.

“seriously? and you never introduced me to her? seo yul, i’m disappointed” the crown prince tsked.

“i never knew you were a fan of such things, your highness” yul bowed his head and stood up. the sudden motion combined with couple of drops of alcohol in his system caused his vision to blur.

“ah, it’s a shame i only discovered her now. but better now than never, hm?” go win tilted his head and observed yul’s rosy cheeks.

“yul-ah, you seem distracted. is everything alright?” uk asked, worried. he stood up and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“yeah, i’m just tired. we shall go. i need to get one thing done and i’ll join you in jeongjingak” yul sighed. he bowed and left them, ignoring their weird looks.

there was a sudden knock at your door. you let out a sigh but your gaze didn’t leave your reflection in the mirror.

“i’m sorry, your highness, but the performance is over” you called, hands working on untying your braid.

“oh, my apologies. i just hoped for a quick chat with such an amazing dancer”

you turned around and your face lit up upon seeing yul. he smiled wildly when your eyes met.

“oh for you master yul… i suppose i could make some time” you teased. yul closed the door and approached you slowly, as you reassumed to unbraid your hair “did you enjoy the show?”

“oh, of course i did. anyone would be a fool not to enjoy it” he hummed, placing his hands on your arms and massaging them gently “a certain individual seemed to enjoy it especially…”

“oh?” you rose your eyebrows, meeting his dark-brown irises in the mirror’s reflection. his face was pensive, brows furrowed and jaw tensed.

he huffed and leaned a bit forward, grabbing your hair gently and putting it on your back. as he started to unbraid your hair tenderly, careful not to tug too harshly, you started to wipe off your performance makeup.

“the crown prince fell in love, i recon” he murmured, shrugging nonchalantly.

“with the performance? i mean, i’d be rather upset if the future king wasn’t entertained with my dance” you hummed and put away the dirty cloths, your face now bare.

“i think he was more found of you than the show itself, y/n” seo yul sighed and parted the last parts of your hair, finally letting it flow on your back loosely.

“hm… it flatters me, truly” you smiled and noticed his brows twitch “yul?”

“yes, dear?” he asked, sitting down next to you. he looked at the stone on your finger, smiling subconsciously.

“are you jealous?” asking, you raised the corner of your lip.

he just rolled his eyes playfully, yet no words were spoken.

“oh yul…” you giggled and poked his chest “you seemed to kill him with your gaze the second he opened his mouth while he was talking to me”

“stop talking such nonsense about the future head of the country…” seo yul grunted, avoiding your gaze. a slight blush adorned the tips of his ears.

he leaned and grabbed your fans, holding them gently.

you observed how he traced the black sewing, then moving to the red one. he was thinking about something, absentmindedly moving his fingers along the soft fabric.

“i’m sorry” you huffed, placing your hand over his “i tried to hold a distance but he was too…”

“it’s a future king, they tend to get too blind to notice someone is uncomfortable” yul scoffed and looked up at you, suddenly reaching out and holding your chin with his free hand. he tilted his head, a faint smirk dancing on his lips “but you’re mine”

“mhm” you hummed in agreement and waited for him to shorten the distance between you two.

as your lips finally met, your head went spiralling. every kiss with seo yul was like the first time, always so passionate and tender.

you’ve been dating yul for a while now, yet you were keeping your relationship secret from the public eye. and for the time you’ve spent with your lover, you noticed his habits… such as struggling to word out his love. however, his words just weren’t verbal: yul adored to shower you with gifts and small gestures.

like those fans you always perform with. or the finest performance makeup supplies he got from afar. or the handmade hanbok for you to perform in. or the musicians.

or the ring.

as you felt the air escaping your lungs, you moved your hand from his and put it at the back of his neck.

leaning away, you noticed his flushed cheeks.

“i’m yours, yul. not going anywhere, even if the prince offers me to rule the country” you chuckled and tapped his ring, the blue part that matched yours.

“good” yul huffed, noticing the gesture.

after all, the red and blue yin and yang jade was the symbol for ever lasting love for a reason.

masterlist <3

taglist. @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jiwuu ,, @ameliesaysshooo ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @primoppang ,, @dazzlingligth