#I don’t think the entire universe is going to be doing the classic ring thing like m8 Earth alone doesn’t do that everywhere

[worstloki]

I was watching Bajirao Mastani and thought the marriage through dagger was such a cool concept to incorporate in thorki fics

It's Jotun prince Loki's first visit to Asgard. He has come there for some festival with his older brothers and parents and Thor and Loki become close or something like that. One of those day, Thor compliments Loki's big ass dagger befitting his giant stature and then Loki laughs and conjures tiny replicas and gives them to Thor and Thor is well aware of the asgardian customs but momentarily forgets it and accepts the daggers. Hela is Thor's older sister who wants to get rid of Thor since forever and she sees this as an opportunity, pushes Odin and Frigga for marriage. Loki returns home with a wife/husband.

I feel like with how important fighting is to Asgard knife rituals should definitely be considered

[ms-scarletwings]

We gotta start accurately calling Sly Cooper a low fantasy universe at some point. It’s retrospectively wild how much supernatural shit is going on in front of your face that you don’t think about because it’s like… nothing to the characters that it’s happening to. People who have never played Sly Cooper have no clue how nonchalantly it grinds this rail between just “real world noire but furries” and straight up DC superpowers stuff.

• The surprising amount of undead, in hindsight

Black magic is just, you know, a thing…. and outside of when it’s the weapon of choice of the villain of the week, it’s not even really brought up. Tsao was building an army of honest to god vampires and Mz.Ruby has been fraternizing with homemade ghouls since she was a child. A second-game side quest involves descetrating a tomb, kidnapping a bunch of restless ghosts, and then unleashing them on the cops for a good prank. For Pete’s sake, Clockwerk, biggest bad of the franchise, is basically an eldritch machine possessed by the vengeful spirit of someone who became too petty and angry to die.

• There are people born with innate superpowers

So, there is no debate going on with the deal about Cooper abilities and this point, right? Sure, the Theivious Raccoonus has a lot of good pointers any thief worth their salt could gain from, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say somethings along the lines of gliding down lasers or turning invisible on command are a bit out of most readers’ capabilities. The 1st game’s humor in explaining off gameplay mechanics as in-universe phenomena had the unintended consequence of establishing that the Cooper clan members literally have a criminally inclined sort of spidey sense- literally hallucinating glowing auras and blue sparkles around anything both valuable and not nailed down. I think I also awkward appreciated the parallel to be spotted between the Cooper honer code and the self imposed limitations other media supers live by. That idea of “you have the gift of amazing power and you will choose to use it responsibly”, all the better here for the ways in which the clan’s premise subverts classic hero/villain dynamics.

• Ancient techniques of sorcery

run right alongside conventional weaponry

Some supers are born in this world, a lot of them are made. As if anyone with the time to practice and learn can just pick it up like karate. Religion has to be crazy in Sly Cooper considering there’s entire spiritualisms given demonstrable and epic power in what their followers are capable of. Murray literally can do some degree of magic from the third game and onward and there’s no telling what else he learned over the course of his Dreamtime training. Anyone with the wits and resources of the Contessa can figure out how to toy around with freaking mind controlling dark arts. Don’t get me started again on the whole “army of undead” thing which gets even weirder by the implication that the world does nothing to regulate these kind of abilities UP AND UNTIL the user starts to roleplay a cocky little warlord with their zombie friends. And Flame Fu is right there. A lot of what the panda king can do is closer to Bentley’s realm- very complicated and meticulous works of pyrotechnics, but Flame Fu is a whole something else that belongs in this discussion.

• Magical items and mythical beasts

The Mask of Dark Earth, the guru’s special stone, an entire kraken, a whole laundry list of things in The Contessa’s possession, an enormous swamp serpent, haunted trees, whatever the hell kind of ring Dimitri was wearing in the second game, a giant stone dragon statue that turns out to be AN ACTUAL FREAKING DRAGON in dormancy, a supercharged ancient bamboo forest, potentially the Cooper cane itself, and the not-to-be-overlooked every single piece of Clockwerk’s cursed body. I know I’m probably forgetting something because that was just off the cuff. It’s kind of wild that most of what we watch the Coopers focus on stealing can be stuff like museum paintings in a world where magic flying carpets are confirmed to exist. The hell. Why was I ever mocking the pirates in Bloodbath Bay for their paranoia and superstition?? Best part was always that basically none of it phased the resident smarty pants nerd character like it usually would anyone who fills that trope. Because of magic is just an accepted and normalized thing in the world, why WOULD Bentley talk about it any different than he would the history of lumberjacks or combustion physics? Instead of conflicting against his understanding of science, it just tacks onto it as more additional info, you know… the way it would if magic was just another set of rules to study and understand.

[benis-chillin]

My Sonic eras(updated)plus canonicity system.

So it’s been a minute since I updated my Sonic eras(which are based in canon rather than arbitrary opinions, like most fan era systems operate in this franchise), so I figured I’d give them a quick touch-up, and explain what systems I use to determine canonicity. Those being:

Objective canon(what happens on screen)

Fair extrapolation(looking at the tiny details to make assumptions, but not outright headcanons)

Behind the scenes info(What the current people at Sega say)

Headcanon(we make shit up with no basis beyond personal opinion)

So, let’s go into detail on what each of these mean.

1)Objective Canon

Basically, if you saw it on-screen in a canon work,  this is irrefutable canon. However, there are some caveats to this, and one of those is that this section doesn’t dictate what works are and are not canon, since those are often decided by outside factors that we’ll explain in a moment. Another is that we usually try to judge a work by its original language. Some works in mainline Sonic canon are written first in Japanese, and others are written in English first. The metric you can use for that is by studying dialogue. If the main differences between English and Japanese are the typical tells of English localization(I.e. Stuff like Shahra’s “Did I change my destiny?” in the English dub of Secret Rings, when in context, this was about her altering more than just HER fate), then it was likely written in Japanese first. However, if the Japanese version has WILDLY different dialogue in the Japanese version(Colors, Lost World, Frontiers, etc), then English came first.

Now, if you still like the other dubs for casual playing, that’s cool. I enjoy some games written in Japanese first with the English voices(and vice versa), but when it comes to this type of analysis, you need to get as close to the original as possible.

If you need a resource for checking into these translations, Windii Gaylord on YouTube is a good one to use. She also came up with the above metric for figuring out which language came first via one of her tweets, btw.

2)Fair extrapolation

So this one is a little tricky, but I think I can get my point across.

One frequent complaint about Sonic canon is that it “makes no sense,” or “contradicts itself” in many instances. Heck, even people up to Ian Flynn would make this argument.

And they’re wrong. 

Beyond a few instances in the Classic era, Sonic canon only doesn’t make sense if you either don’t pay enough attention to it, have multi-media brain rot from Archie and shit, or make up the contradictions in your head. The Sonic fanbase is wont to do that last one a lot, with “All of Classic Sonic was put into another dimension by Forces!” or “Unleashed/Frontiers contradicts the Chaos Emerald lore established in Adventure/Unleashed!” 

This type of thinking comes along when you SEEK contradictions, and it’s a loser way of going about these things. Fair extrapolation goes entirely against this idea. Instead of looking for contradictions, let’s instead assume that everything connects perfectly, you just need to find out HOW, without going on any crazy leaps.

For example, in Forces, Classic Sonic is established as coming from another dimension/world, despite coming from the past in Generations, and other games have shown the pre-1998 games to have taken place in the mainline universe.

A loser would scream, “Contradiction!” and rob everyone else of a cool idea, but fair extrapolation tells us that his previous encounter with the current timeline put this version of Sonic into his own dimension/world, and since that story involved time travel, we can assume this means timeline. Ergo, split timeline.

Or, in another case, the Chaos Emeralds are ancient gems with a lot of power. If a battery still has power, I can still use it in more than one device if I choose to move it, yes?

So, logically, the Chaos Emeralds can power the Ancients’ ships in Frontiers, get placed in the guardianship of Chaos in Adventure, and have been used for the Temple Megazord in Unleashed at different points in the long history of Sonic’s Earth.

Ergo, these games do not contradict each other.

If connecting the dots doesn’t require you to outright make up details, then it’s fair extrapolation, and thus not a headcanon. I’ll explain what that is in a moment, but first,

3) Behind the scenes information

Alright, this section requires some harsh truths, so I’m gonna just rip off the band-aid:

Creators are far less reliable than the on-screen canon.

They may try to claim otherwise, but as far as I’ve observed, their knowledge on details can be fuzzy and swayed by a corporation who has even LESS of an idea of what they’re talking about. It’s okay to pick their brains a bit to use as feelers for canon, but they can and sometimes do contradict what’s actually on-screen, so for MY money, they’re tertiary canon that can easily be ignored.

Death of the author is inherent to any long-running continuity, unfortunately. We just have to accept that.

4)Headcanon

This receives very limited use. It’s mainly deciding what your personal order of events is, what explanation you prefer from fair extrapolation on the rare occasion you can get more than one, and other details you may need to fill the gaps with. It is the most objectionable form of canon, thus why it is at the bottom of the list. Also, every time you cite it, you MUST say something to the effect of, “My headcanon is…” Don’t try to push it as fact, because you know it isn’t.

So, with that all established, let’s get our eras established.

1)Classic Era

1991-1997, 1999, 2023

Both the hardest and simplest to explain. Every game from 1991-1997 is in here, so pre-Adventure.  Sadly, the manuals for Sonic 1-3&K, and CD have been retconned by Sonic Origins(I don’t like this retcon, but as it was done through proper channels, I have to accept it by my standards), but the others remain fair game for now.

Pocket Adventure remains as the end of this era, personal headcanon keeping it in the loop because I doubt Sega is gonna make a work that replaces it, so there’s nothing in the work itself to make decanonizing it necessary.

And yeah, you may have noticed that 2023. Yeah, I’m putting Superstars in the main timeline. This may change in the future, but for now, I am eschewing the “takes place between Mania and Adventure” stuff from the creators to cause less contradictions, unlike Sega who seem to be wallowing in causing a contradiction with the “Mania in the main universe” bullshit. Objectively, from the official material, Mania is from an alternate timeline, and any instances of Mania elements appearing in the main universe are continuity errors out of universe, but can be explained in-universe as non-specific objects and locations that exist in both timelines.

I would prefer that Superstars be a split timeline game, personally, but we’re not allowed good things. If Trip ever appears in a comic with the Hardboiled Heavies, then she just exists in both timelines as a pre-Generations thing. No muss, no fuss.

2)Adventure Era

1998-2006,  2010,  2012

Works relatively the same as before, so I will copy and paste. 

Not named after the Adventure games, but rather after Pocket Adventure, which is our transition into it. This era encompasses everything released from 1998-2006, save for Pocket Adventure, Rivals, Riders, and Rush, the latter 3 being folded into the following era. Sonic 4 Episodes 1, 2, and Metal are also part of the Adventure era as their earliest canonical instances. What ends this era is the reset created at the end of 06, which reboots Silver to his new Rivals origin, and either reboots Blaze to be from the Sol Dimension now, or simply makes it so she never traveled from the Sol Dimension to Silver's future(my preferred theory). Since this is a shift in the timeline caused by canonical events, it transitions us into our next era…

3)Post-Solaris Era

2006-2011

Silver and Blaze receive their reboots in the form of Rush and Rivals, and Riders starts up. Covers every game from 2005-2011 that isn't Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog(2006), Sonic the Hedgehog 4 Episode 1, and Sonic Chronicles, since that game is explicitly in the not-canon zone, and will probably never get out of it. The cause of our next era shift will be explained shortly.

4) Post-Time Eater era

2013-present(?)

Caused by the events of Generations splitting the timeline so that one version of Sonic grew up to be the Modern counterpart, and one is having considerably different adventures like Mania and the IDW anniversary comics, this new timeline SEEMS to be our current era, with all post-2011 games, save for Sonic 4 Episode 2  being in it...Hypothetically. And, for the first time, non-game media like the IDW comics and Prime are in it, so that's neat!

(Btw, if you wanna bitch and moan about Prime being canon, I discussed it here)

However, I should note that as all of these eras are formed in retrospect, we will not properly know when we have left this era until WELL after we have exited it. 

I see two possibilities for our next era shift:

1) Another timeline shift that properly addresses the timeline split, and uses that to smooth over some of the extra contradictions leaving post-Gens Classic Sonic in the main timeline would bring. I have the story ready in my head if you want it, Sega.

2) The revelations of Frontiers go somewhere further in the future, bringing us into a “Discovery” era, and making our years for this period 2011-2022, 2022-2024(these are for Prime), and starting this new era with Sonic Frontiers, Murder of Sonic, and Sonic Dream Team, along with whatever IDW comics follow the events of Frontiers.

(a small mock-up)

So that’s my canon system as it stands as of March 2024. Feel free to discuss, and even borrow elements for your own systems, or just to use it outright. I just felt that having this all typed out in one spot was a good idea. See ya, suckers!

READ MY DUMBASS FANFICTION!

[nobodysdaydreams]

Hello my friend! What a beautiful notification to receive! I always love reading your commentary on my fics- it's insightful, funny, and just all around lovely. I'm glad you appreciated the relative calm of the chapter (warning: may or may not last).

Without further ado: my thoughts on your thoughts lets get into it!

I'm glad you enjoyed the way I wrote the blueberry tea scene. It's a classic scene, and I really loved writing it (although Curtain probably is hurting a lot after all those bricks you threw at him. I wonder if the way he thinks about Number Two could be related to jealousy...).

"“ “Kidnapped?” Curtain repeated, in the shocked voice of the world’s most innocent man accused of the most heinous of crimes.” Bods, you have to stop writing such incredible and quotable lines or I’m just going to spend this whole chapter quoting your own stuff back at you"

^I'm glad you find them quotable. I spend a lot of time thinking of the best way to describe Curtain's actions.

And yes, he did make Jackson and Jillson hide in the bushes. That's from the show. They appear on cue when he rings the bell and overheard his entire convo with Nicholas and Number Two.

"Oh. Oh, they’re excited to find someone who understands how important another person can be. THEY’VE NEVER MET SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY HEALTHILY LOVES ANOTHER PERSON, HAVE THEY?"

^Nope :)

And we all want to hug SQ. He deserves a hug after all he's been through.

"And he’s flying!! He’s never been on a plane before. He should get to go on a hot air balloon. From what I’ve read people say it’s kind of like being a bird because of how quiet everything is / WAIT. I DON’T THINK SQ’S EVER BEEN TO NEW YORK. THAT CITY’S HUGE. THAT IS ONE OF THE WORST PLACES FOR HIM TO BE GOING. HE’S GOING TO GET SCAMMED AND/OR MUGGED AND LEFT IN A DITCH"

^If there is a way I can get the boy onto a balloon in one of my fics, I'll try my best. As for New York, I had to send him to an American city, but I didn't want to pick a smaller one or university I've attended because that's not a level of info I'm comfortable sharing. New York is the most general. But I promise you Sophie: He is not going to get mugged and left in a ditch. There. Happy?

"Curtain was probably really good at helping tiny SQ with his fears, because he could explain it all in logical and understandable terms. Learning about the science always helped me calm down when I was little"

^Me too. And yes, Curtain was good at that sort of thing. That's what's frustrating and loveable about him as a character: he has such a high potential to be a good person, he's just not getting there.

I'm glad you liked the title. This chapter was fairly easy to title. I haven't come up with all the chapter titles yet, but I do have a lot of them planned out at this point, so I'm really excited about that!

I'm happy you like the Milligan and Miss. Perumal friendship and parenting support! Was I deeply invested in the show semi-pushing or introducing the ship? Not really, but I think that their similar parenting situations and apparent skill sets would at least make them good friends and I was surprised the show didn't focus as much on that, especially when it has both characters as main cast members.

ASDJklfjddf- I wouldn't say Number Two hates llamas, but she is displeased by this particularly llama, which she views as another one of Curtain's pointless distractions.

Oh yes. Poor Jackson and Jillson. They are going through a lot.

"(Personally, I feel like “happy” can be other colours than yellow. Like, the letters and word itself are yellowy in my mind, but the emotion is more sky blue?)"

^Okay, side note, and you don't have to answer, but this is really really cool. Do you have emotional and letter synesthesia?

"THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME WHAT HAPPENED TO THE OTHER EXECUTIVES. I’VE BEEN WORRIED ABOUT THEM."

^I actually wrote this chapter a long time ago and the only reason I didn't publish it was because I didn't know how I wanted to breakup the plot of the fic in some sections, so I had to go back and read to find what you were talking about, because I did not remember adding anything. Sure enough, that's actually a line from the show, but I'm flattered that you think I came up with that.

"I have known a couple people who eat lemons! I think a few of them might have used salt too :( "

^Lemons are delicious! But unlike Number Two, I don't eat the peel.

"Do. Do Jackson and Jillson know where Brazil is?"

^I honestly don't know. If you asked them they'd probably say something cryptic like "we all have a Brazil in our hearts".

I'm glad you like the way I write Sebastian. Writing the brainwashed characters was a lot of fun.

You’re so good at writing Sebastian, he’s so creepy and makes me uncomfortable, but also I understand that he’s pretty much totally innocent in this mess

"Oh, poor Milligan has been bottling all this up and has no one to talk to about it"

^Yeah. :( Thank goodness for Rhonda and Dipika.

"OH NO OH NO WE HAVE REACHED A VERY BAD PART And Nathaniel remembers running away. But he feels like SQ is so different from him (Like Nicholas) that he wouldn’t do that. / OH MY GOODNESS CURTAIN CHIPPED HIM??????? / Oh, Curtain was going to take him to see all those art museums :( / “How had he guessed the code in one try?” "

^Yep. A lot of emotions here. The sad part is the museums were a good idea. And when you read the incident of the leg breaking again, you can see where control freak Curtain was like "I must know where my tiny defenseless child is at all times!"

"Okay, seriously, you’re willing to MICROCHIP YOUR CHILD AT AGE FIVE, but you WON’T CHANGE YOUR SUPER OBVIOUS PASSCODE?????/ Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh""

^Priorities

"I feel like this is going to go so terribly. I am very nervous."

^Oh Sophie. My dear friend. How could you say that? Don't you trust me?

"Well. I feel a tiny bit mollified about the “walkabout” excuse now."

^That was the goal. Let me tell you, making that line make sense took some brain juice, but I did it.

Oh boy. Oh boy, of course Curtain knew that Nicholas would wander around all day. I’m so mad at him. / “Exeunt” I hate him so much /As stupid as the “defensive fence” line is, it makes me laugh every time and it was no exception in your style. Incredible /““Nicholas,” Curtain interrupted, in an uncharacteristically relaxed voice. “I’ve moved on.”” /How do you make me want to slap him so hard with only a single sentence?? You create too many emotions in me, Bods /“Nicholas sounded so overwhelmed and so broken down. It was an emotion Curtain remembered from when they were children. And just like when they were children, it was his responsibility to calm and comfort his twin. The only difference was that now he had the perfect tools to do so.” AND ONCE AGAIN, YOU MAKE HIM ACTUALLY SOUND SLIGHTLY REASONABLE. I FEEL BAD FOR HIM NOW/ And Curtain is excited to have someone who understands him…"

^I love all of this. I love it when I do the Curtain "hate him/feel bad for him/still hate him but you see why he's like this" routine. And I love writing from his POV, because we all sound so reasonable in our own minds even when we're not. Perhaps Curtain most of all.

"“It wasn’t exactly mind-control if people consented to it” OH BOY IF THAT ISN’T A SENTENCE AMONG SENTENCES"

^And the ending part: "But that certainly didn't make it right". I loved writing that line.

"And Nicholas feels so bad!! He didn’t mean to!!! He’s exhausted and upset, and that’s the place that Curtain put him in, but it’s hurting both of them :( / And he knows how hurtful that is to Nathaniel specifically :(  /AND NICHOLAS WANTS HIM TO BE LOVED FOR HIMSELF. NOT FOR WHO HE’S PRETENDING TO BE. EVEN CURTAIN HASN’T FIGURED THAT OUT YET!!! / “But the man named Curtain who stood him wasn’t the brother that Nicholas remembered. He was a stranger, one who might have destroyed his brother forever.” /PAIN!!!!!!!!!!!"

^Ah yes, the lovely Benedict Brothers angst. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

“He remembered seeing Nicholas on television. Winning awards after award and competing in science competitions, high school debate meets, and college quiz bowls, living a happy life without him” / OH LOOK IT GOT WORSE

^Do you recall your post on "Wait. What if little Nicholas Glenn did quiz bowls like Sticky?". I got so excited when I saw that. The amount of times people in the fandom have accidently predicted the plot (not that there isn't also a lot of plot you have yet to discover).

“Because he loved his brother? Or because he wanted to control him? / Maybe some twisted mixture of both” WELL, THAT ABOUT SUMS UP THE WHOLE FIC /YOU WRITE SUCH BEAUTIFUL POETRY BUT IT’S ALL SO HEART-RENDING I AM COMING FOR YOUR TOOTHPASTE AND COOKING IT INTO PANCAKES

^NOT MY PERSCRIPTION TOOTHPASTE SOPHIE HOW COULD YOU? /j

I'm glad you are vibrating with excitement from Sebastian's scene, because I loved writing that. :)

"But, also. She chose to leave home because of her familial conflicts. Nicholas didn’t really have a choice, and also we’re assuming he was younger than her. (I certainly hope that’s the case) They have way different perspectives on this whole thing / I might argue that Number Two is overly cynical as a self-defence mechanism as well, while Nicholas is a bit too trusting because he can’t handle the thought of someone needing a second chance and him not being there to offer it. Interesting"

^Ah yes. Number Two's backstory. More on that later...

"AND IT’S INFURIATING THAT CURTAIN ACTUALLY STILL KNOWS WHAT MAKES NICHOLAS COMFORTABLE, BECAUSE THEN HE ALWAYS HAS TO BE ON HIS GUARD AGAINST MANIPULATION D:"

^Right? In some ways the fact that Nathaniel cares on some level almost actually makes it worse.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH / I am so, so very worried about SQ. And, begrudgingly, Curtain. Bods, can you please stop making me care so much about the people who are committing various war crimes?"

^Sophie, SQ hasn't committed any war crimes yet! /j /lh

"Afkljdskjhf He DID bug their little house!! / OH!!! YOU DID MAKE IT SO HE KNEW THAT SHE WAS ESCAPING!!!! GAH THIS IS SO BAD BUT I’M SO EXCITED ABOUT YOUR WRITING"

^I was on the fence about this, but it works really well with the lines the show gave in the beginning, and at the end it makes sense that Curtain would have stopped monitoring them so closely because he's busy dealing with his self-made crisis.

"SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING /YOU’RE CUTTING BETWEEN THESE SCENES ON PURPOSE TO STRESS ME OUT, AREN’T YOU??? /s /j /It’s awesome"

^No, I'm doing it because the show did it. The scenes appear in chronological order (at least so far). I've taken great pains to follow the show's pacing, even when it doesn't flow well with what I'm trying to include in the fic.

Oh, the poor flight attendant guy :( / (BODS STOP MAKING ME OVERLY INVESTED IN PEOPLE WITH TEN SECONDS OF SCREEN TIME) / ((Actually, please don’t stop. I love your writing. Never change))

^Oh don't worry. I don't plan to.

"Afjdsfj The employees being like “WE ARE HERE AT THE SAME TIME EVERY DAY. ALWAYS. RIGHT HERE. SUPER HELPFUL, IF ANYONE IS LISTENING” / You have such a clever way of including humour while also I am chewing my fingernails off"

^Those lines were from the show. It was way too much of a coincidence not to be intentional, so I decided to write that in there.

I’M RUNNING OUT OF WORDS. NEXT CUT SCENE YOU ARE RECEIVING PROPERTY DAMAGE

^The cuts are the show's doing! Destroy their property for that, I'm already trying to get more toothpaste!

I have so many questions about the blimp pilot. Who is this man? Why does he speak this way? Does he know how to fly a blimp? Is he the Captain Noland of the skies?

^"Is he the Captain Noland of the skies?" made me laugh out loud.

“But my sadness did not last long because I didn’t let it” Sir, you went on a thirty-some-odd year long revenge campaign which you are still actively engaging in. Please stop speaking these boldfaced lies on live broadcast television. / “And to remind Nicholas of why he didn’t deserve it.” YOU HAD YOUR WARNING, IT AM TAKING HALF THE STUFFING OUT OF ALL YOUR PILLOWS. JUST HALF. AND THEN I’M STITCHING THEM BACK UP AGAIN. ALSO. YOUR FRONT DOOR NOW HAS EXTREMELY SQUEAKY HINGES.

^Not my pillows! Anything but my pillows! I need those for warmth! For comfort! Sophie please. Have mercy. 'Twas only a light chapter.

Yes, the Jackson and Jillson stuff is something I shared from the ask game. :)

CURTAIN IS SO EMOTIONALLY DAMAGED BUT THAT DOESN’T GIVE HIM THE RIGHT TO HURT OTHER PEOPLE I HAVE FULLY LOST MY MIND CONGRATS, BODS / (Your microwave has been welded shut)

^Um... HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT DINNER???? SOPHIE???

CAPTAIN NOLAND???? / “Going on seven divorces, it certainly seemed that way. And yet, even the staggering amount of alimony payments he owed couldn’t hold a candle to his gambling debt.” / ASKJdSKJ WHAT??? Bods… I don’t even have anything to say… This poor man…

^I had to include something for Noland. I didn't have the time or energy for his scenes, but he's too funny I just had to.

“that is if we can make an example of these fruit filching criminals” You write Show Cannonball impeccably asdhk / THEY’VE BEEN BANNED FROM THE SHIP!!!!!!!/ ““So…just to be clear…we are banned from the boat, but other than that we are free to go?” asked Bauer. / “I’m afraid so,” answered Noland. “I’m just sorry it had to come to this.” / Cannonball bowed his head gravely. The Shortcut was a beautiful vessel. To be banned from it was one of the worst punishments he could imagine.” / I’m really glad I was alone for this part, because I could no longer contain my laughter and, in fact, I’m still laughing. Superb writing. / “What he had done would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his days, both the punishment he’d delivered and the emotionless eyes of the four women who had dared put the ecological well-being of this beautiful country in jeopardy with a single tangerine. / May God have mercy on their souls.” / I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE SHOW NOLAND. HE’S NOT BOOK PHIL NOLAND BUT I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND FOR ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS

^I'm so happy that you found that so funny and like the way I write these characters. The Tangerine scene was funny to me too and I really enjoyed it.

"And, of course, Curtain correcting him to use “Society”"

^Full Circle :) (If you recall what happens in Ch. 2)

"Oh my goodness. Just. The whole two paragraphs about Curtain deciding to use the phrase “treat them without mercy”. I’m not going to copy it in here, but I adore it and you’re a genius"

^I'm glad you like how I wrote it. I liked the line so much in fact that I decided to use it in a fic (see if you can guess which one) /lh /j.

“It was his destiny.” Is definitely not the most devastating line you’ve ended on before, but oh dear. I feel so bad for the poor Jeeps.

^Trust me. The devastation will come. As will Jeeps' destiny :)

I'm glad you are excited about the brainwashed adults, and THANK YOU for enjoying my writing so much. You are incredible. Sending all the love in the world your way my friend. 💕💕💕 Have a good nap!

Sophie's Breakdown Over the Relatively Calm Chapter 19 of S.O.S.

I... I am having A Time. Enjoy my liveblog of the disaster that I became over the course of this chapter. Slightly less property damage this time, though!

EDIT: SHOOT I FORGOT TO TAG BODS @nobodysdaydreams

Oh my heavens we’re starting with The Blueberry Example

I do enjoy how it’s like “Nicholas was concerned his brother might be delusional” but what he actually says is just “You’re delusional and you make no sense!” Exasperated sibling behaviour

And you actually explained Curtain’s thought process!! Afjsdhj And it still doesn’t really make any sense at all

Number Two and her Napkin Moment. I feel so bad for her, she’s probably losing her mind inside her head

“Even after all these years, his brother still was so easily overwhelmed” YOU KIDNAPPED HIM, NATHANIEL. HE’S BEEN THROUGH A LOT, OKAY???

“who despite his…well not jealousy, but curiosity of his brother’s choice of companionship” Hitting him in the head with a brick

HE’S COMPARING NUMBER TWO TO A SECRETARY??????? Two bricks.

“ “Kidnapped?” Curtain repeated, in the shocked voice of the world’s most innocent man accused of the most heinous of crimes.” Bods, you have to stop writing such incredible and quotable lines or I’m just going to spend this whole chapter quoting your own stuff back at you

HE MADE JACKSON AND JILLSON HIDE IN THE BUSHES?? WHY IS HE LIKE THIS HALF THE PLANTS AT THE COMPOUND ARE THORNY AND BAD TO TOUCH

Oh. Oh, they’re excited to find someone who understands how important another person can be. THEY’VE NEVER MET SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY HEALTHILY LOVES ANOTHER PERSON, HAVE THEY?

(Also, I think I’d be glad to be free of babysitting Auguste too. I hope that doesn’t emotionally backfire on them later…)

Aw, poor SQ. I feel for him, being in a line and all that horrible pressure. And he’s got his little translation dictionary!!!!

THIS LADY SHOULD BE CONCERNED. WHY IS SHE JUST LETTING HIM STUMBLE THROUGH THIS??? HE IS SO VERY CLEARLY A DISASTER. HELP HIM!!!

He thinks his dad might not care enough to come after him…

He’s so scared!! I just want to give him a hug

AND HE’S APOLOGISING FOR LOOKING NERVOUS. SOMEONE HUG THIS CHILD

“ “That would be great, thank you,” he answered, happy to finally have something he could use to get his mind off his father.” This was where I heard the ominous music start playing

And he’s flying!! He’s never been on a plane before. He should get to go on a hot air balloon. From what I’ve read people say it’s kind of like being a bird because of how quiet everything is

WAIT. I DON’T THINK SQ’S EVER BEEN TO NEW YORK. THAT CITY’S HUGE. THAT IS ONE OF THE WORST PLACES FOR HIM TO BE GOING. HE’S GOING TO GET SCAMMED AND/OR MUGGED AND LEFT IN A DITCH

Curtain was probably really good at helping tiny SQ with his fears, because he could explain it all in logical and understandable terms. Learning about the science always helped me calm down when I was little

(Also, I really like the parallels with the turbulence and the titles and everything!!)

“It’s not you,” Rhonda replied, “it’s him.” I love Rhonda

YEAH!! MILLIGAN AND MISS PERUMAL FRIENDSHIP PARENTING SUPPORT GROUP!!!!

“As for Mr. Benedict, while he wasn’t taking his brother’s career change particularly well” Askjfdhjd Even her inner-monologue is so polite and tactful. (It’s okay, you can say “supervillain”)

They’re so sweet :)

I love how they really want to help each other. They’re trying their best!! And they’re so supportive

THE LLAMA

Afjdskjsd Number Two hates llamas? I’ll believe that

“As they did not have to be under the technique to remain loyal to Dr. Curtain, and neither wanted to take up Dr. Curtain’s precious time by rudely reminding him that he hadn’t used the technique on them yet, neither of them had actually had the happiness technique used on them.” Oh dear. Oh, I want to give them a hug too. These poor kids

YEAH. YEAH, NICHOLAS. I WONDER WHERE HE FOUND THEM.

Auguste!!! I am afeared

(Personally, I feel like “happy” can be other colours than yellow. Like, the letters and word itself are yellowy in my mind, but the emotion is more sky blue?)

THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME WHAT HAPPENED TO THE OTHER EXECUTIVES. I’VE BEEN WORRIED ABOUT THEM.

I have known a couple people who eat lemons! I think a few of them might have used salt too :( 

SEBASTIAN

 Do. Do Jackson and Jillson know where Brazil is?

You’re so good at writing Sebastian, he’s so creepy and makes me uncomfortable, but also I understand that he’s pretty much totally innocent in this mess

Oh, poor Milligan has been bottling all this up and has no one to talk to about it

OH NO

OH NO

WE HAVE REACHED A VERY BAD PART

And Nathaniel remembers running away. But he feels like SQ is so different from him (Like Nicholas) that he wouldn’t do that.

OH MY GOODNESS CURTAIN CHIPPED HIM???????

Oh, Curtain was going to take him to see all those art museums :( 

“How had he guessed the code in one try?” Okay, seriously, you’re willing to MICROCHIP YOUR CHILD AT AGE FIVE, but you WON’T CHANGE YOUR SUPER OBVIOUS PASSCODE?????

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I feel like this is going to go so terribly. I am very nervous.

The last straw is getting electrocuted. Of course, Nicholas /s

(He’s probably not even upset that he got hurt, no, he’s worried about the children or the llama or something)

MARLON

Well. I feel a tiny bit mollified about the “walkabout” excuse now.

Oh boy. Oh boy, of course Curtain knew that Nicholas would wander around all day. I’m so mad at him.

“Exeunt” I hate him so much

As stupid as the “defensive fence” line is, it makes me laugh every time and it was no exception in your style. Incredible

““Nicholas,” Curtain interrupted, in an uncharacteristically relaxed voice. “I’ve moved on.””

How do you make me want to slap him so hard with only a single sentence?? You create too many emotions in me, Bods

“Nicholas sounded so overwhelmed and so broken down. It was an emotion Curtain remembered from when they were children. And just like when they were children, it was his responsibility to calm and comfort his twin. The only difference was that now he had the perfect tools to do so.” AND ONCE AGAIN, YOU MAKE HIM ACTUALLY SOUND SLIGHTLY REASONABLE. I FEEL BAD FOR HIM NOW

And Curtain is excited to have someone who understands him…

AND NICHOLAS IS FIGURING IT OUT. BUT HE’S SO OFF. AND HE’S SO TIRED.

“It wasn’t exactly mind-control if people consented to it” OH BOY IF THAT ISN’T A SENTENCE AMONG SENTENCES

And Nicholas feels so bad!! He didn’t mean to!!! He’s exhausted and upset, and that’s the place that Curtain put him in, but it’s hurting both of them :( 

And he knows how hurtful that is to Nathaniel specifically :( 

AND NICHOLAS WANTS HIM TO BE LOVED FOR HIMSELF. NOT FOR WHO HE’S PRETENDING TO BE. EVEN CURTAIN HASN’T FIGURED THAT OUT YET!!!

“But the man named Curtain who stood him wasn’t the brother that Nicholas remembered. He was a stranger, one who might have destroyed his brother forever.”

PAIN!!!!!!!!!!!

“He remembered seeing Nicholas on television. Winning awards after award and competing in science competitions, high school debate meets, and college quiz bowls, living a happy life without him”

OH LOOK IT GOT WORSE

“Because he loved his brother? Or because he wanted to control him? / Maybe some twisted mixture of both” WELL, THAT ABOUT SUMS UP THE WHOLE FIC

YOU WRITE SUCH BEAUTIFUL POETRY BUT IT’S ALL SO HEART-RENDING I AM COMING FOR YOUR TOOTHPASTE AND COOKING IT INTO PANCAKES

Oh, Bods, you’re a genius

Writing that piece from Sebastian’s perspective was AMAZING. So incredibly clever. I am literally vibrating from excitement.

And poor Nicholas!! Because he knows. He knows what’s going on and why it’s bad, he’s got it exactly down, but he’s so caught up in the emotions (And Curtain’s weird, delusional, off-the-wall responses to life probably aren’t helping) that he can’t figure out what to do

I love Number Two. How she deals with literally any emotion? Be overwhelmingly objective and pretend the feelings aren’t happening

YEAH!!!! TACTICAL FUNGAL INFECTION :D 

But, also. She chose to leave home because of her familial conflicts. Nicholas didn’t really have a choice, and also we’re assuming he was younger than her. (I certainly hope that’s the case) They have way different perspectives on this whole thing

I might argue that Number Two is overly cynical as a self-defence mechanism as well, while Nicholas is a bit too trusting because he can’t handle the thought of someone needing a second chance and him not being there to offer it. Interesting

AND IT’S INFURIATING THAT CURTAIN ACTUALLY STILL KNOWS WHAT MAKES NICHOLAS COMFORTABLE, BECAUSE THEN HE ALWAYS HAS TO BE ON HIS GUARD AGAINST MANIPULATION D:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I am so, so very worried about SQ. And, begrudgingly, Curtain. Bods, can you please stop making me care so much about the people who are committing various war crimes?

Afkljdskjhf He DID bug their little house!!

“implying that his control was bad” See? This? This right here is why you need therapy

OH!!! YOU DID MAKE IT SO HE KNEW THAT SHE WAS ESCAPING!!!! GAH THIS IS SO BAD BUT I’M SO EXCITED ABOUT YOUR WRITING

Recap of what’s going on on the blimp: Milligan’s panicking, Miss Peruaml is pretty calm because she has no idea what to expect (And also she knows that she’ll probably take control of the blimp if necessary because I fully would expect her to be able to do something like that), and Rhonda is as calm as ever because she is ridiculously unflappable

I really love that she calmed the flight attendant down, though, so it made me smile to see it written out in your style

SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING

YOU’RE CUTTING BETWEEN THESE SCENES ON PURPOSE TO STRESS ME OUT, AREN’T YOU??? /s /j /It’s awesome

Oh, the poor flight attendant guy :( 

(BODS STOP MAKING ME OVERLY INVESTED IN PEOPLE WITH TEN SECONDS OF SCREEN TIME)

((Actually, please don’t stop. I love your writing. Never change))

Afjdsfj The employees being like “WE ARE HERE AT THE SAME TIME EVERY DAY. ALWAYS. RIGHT HERE. SUPER HELPFUL, IF ANYONE IS LISTENING”

You have such a clever way of including humour while also I am chewing my fingernails off

I’M RUNNING OUT OF WORDS. NEXT CUT SCENE YOU ARE RECEIVING PROPERTY DAMAGE

I have so many questions about the blimp pilot. Who is this man? Why does he speak this way? Does he know how to fly a blimp? Is he the Captain Noland of the skies?

HAH. GET THEM RHONDA.

“But my sadness did not last long because I didn’t let it” Sir, you went on a thirty-some-odd year long revenge campaign which you are still actively engaging in. Please stop speaking these boldfaced lies on live broadcast television.

“And to remind Nicholas of why he didn’t deserve it.” YOU HAD YOUR WARNING, IT AM TAKING HALF THE STUFFING OUT OF ALL YOUR PILLOWS. JUST HALF. AND THEN I’M STITCHING THEM BACK UP AGAIN. ALSO. YOUR FRONT DOOR NOW HAS EXTREMELY SQUEAKY HINGES.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh on. Jackson and Jillson :( 

Oh! I think this might be one of the snippets you shared for Ask Games a while ago! Either that or I’m crazy, which is an equally acceptable and probably answer at this point

CURTAIN IS SO EMOTIONALLY DAMAGED BUT THAT DOESN’T GIVE HIM THE RIGHT TO HURT OTHER PEOPLE I HAVE FULLY LOST MY MIND CONGRATS, BODS

(Your microwave has been welded shut)

CAPTAIN NOLAND????

“Going on seven divorces, it certainly seemed that way. And yet, even the staggering amount of alimony payments he owed couldn’t hold a candle to his gambling debt.”

ASKJdSKJ WHAT??? Bods… I don’t even have anything to say… This poor man…

“that is if we can make an example of these fruit filching criminals” You write Show Cannonball impeccably asdhk

THEY’VE BEEN BANNED FROM THE SHIP!!!!!!!

““So…just to be clear…we are banned from the boat, but other than that we are free to go?” asked Bauer. / “I’m afraid so,” answered Noland. “I’m just sorry it had to come to this.” / Cannonball bowed his head gravely. The Shortcut was a beautiful vessel. To be banned from it was one of the worst punishments he could imagine.”

I’m really glad I was alone for this part, because I could no longer contain my laughter and, in fact, I’m still laughing. Superb writing.

“What he had done would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his days, both the punishment he’d delivered and the emotionless eyes of the four women who had dared put the ecological well-being of this beautiful country in jeopardy with a single tangerine. / May God have mercy on their souls.”

I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE SHOW NOLAND. HE’S NOT BOOK PHIL NOLAND BUT I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND FOR ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS

Jeffers!!!

And, of course, Curtain correcting him to use “Society”

Oh my goodness. Just. The whole two paragraphs about Curtain deciding to use the phrase “treat them without mercy”. I’m not going to copy it in here, but I adore it and you’re a genius

“It was his destiny.” Is definitely not the most devastating line you’ve ended on before, but oh dear. I feel so bad for the poor Jeeps.

I TOO HAVE BEEN WAITING TO HEAR ABOUT THE BRAINWASHED ADULTS. BUT I DON’T THINK YOU CAN BLAME ME FOR BEING A LITTLE BIT TERRIFIED. Oh my days, this was incredible. Bods, as per usual, you have made me experience fantastic excitement, fear, and also laugh and feel many much deeper feelings. It’s like each chapter is a little movie. I am seriously running the full span of human emotions any time I pick this fic up. Whooooo. Certainly a rollercoaster, though I suspect from your hints that the next chapter is going to have me sobbing on the floor again.

AND I KNOW THAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN. I KNOW THE PLOT OF THE SHOW. And yet you have me sitting on the edge of my seat, in the highest level of suspense regardless. You truly do have a talent, my friend. You make each character and perspective feel fresh and new and exciting, and I can always understand things from their shoes. Each one is so complicated and real-feeling. Very deep and fascinating characters. Okay, I am going to go and see if I can trick my brain into taking a nap now. If I failed to communicate with my usual fervour, please know that I am definitely feeling absurdly excited about your writing. I’m just very tired at the moment. Have a good day, friend!!!

[baepsaesbae]

Spring Will Come Again

Pairing— Jeon Jungkook x reader    

Genre— Photographer!Jungkook x Baker!reader, SMUT +18, fluff, angst, Virgin!Jungkook, Sub!Jungkook, Switch!Jungkook

Warnings— Finger sucking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting (?), slight choking, there are a lot of emotions, Jungkook is literally so sweet gosh I just wanna hold him tight, this fic is kind of a rollercoaster of emotions bc I myself do b going thru it

Word Count—  ~10.9k  

Summary— Springtime generally brings new beginnings, but being stuck in a small town all your life means nothing ever changes. Finally, something, or rather, someone, stumbles into your life. Can this shy boy manage to change your life forever?

A/N— This beautiful banner was made by @dee-ehn​! Please let me know what you think of this fic! Hope you guys enjoy~

It all started on a beautiful spring day. Something had convinced you to go on an unprecedented early morning walk for some reason. 

The morning air was cold but crisp. You were bundled up in your favorite sweater, and the scarf that your grandmother knitted for you was wrapped snugly around your neck. Normally you would be immersed in your headphones, but since today was already unusual you decided to forgo the music. 

You walked along the banks of the stream that flowed next to your neighborhood. This particular stream held nothing but fond memories. You grew up here with all the other kids. During the summer breaks, you’d play out here from morning to nightfall. This was the place where you saw your first fireflies, and where you won your first fist fight. 

You stopped to sit on the grassy hill that ran alongside the banks, relishing in nostalgia as you took in a breath of fresh air. Everything is so different now. Everyone moved away to pursue their careers or to go to a big university. You were the only one left. Your parents urged you to go to college, but you refused. Who else would help run the bakery? 

As much as you hated to see it, your parents were growing old. Managing the family bakery was getting harder on them. You were such a huge help to them since you basically managed all of the front-of-house work. They worked diligently in the kitchen every day to create the best baked goods in town. 

You had always dreamt of leaving this small town. You’ve fantasized about attending a big university in the middle of a bustling city since you were a little kid. Unfortunately, that can’t happen now. You can’t leave your parents or the bakery behind. You held no resentment though, you loved it. Being an only child was a bit lonely at times, but your parents made you feel loved no matter what.

You laid on the grassy hill, watching the clouds roll by. Maybe life was better this way. It was simple, and you always knew what to expect. Day in and day out, the routine was always the same. 

Everything changed on that day. That was the fateful day that you ran into him. Or rather, he ran into you. 

“Good morning, ____! Where were you this morning? Why weren’t you answering your phone?” your concerned mother asked when you returned home.

“Morning mom. I went on a walk and forgot my phone I guess. Sorry about that. I ended up laying on the hill by the stream,” you replied as you sat at the breakfast table.

Living with bakers was probably one of the biggest blessings in your life. Every meal smelled delectable and you had access to all the fresh goodies you could desire. 

“Wow, you were awake before we were? What a surprise. Here, tell me what you think of this loaf,” your dad set it in front of you.

You tossed a piece of bread into your mouth. The taste was savory to say the least. It was your father’s signature banana bread loaf, only this time with a small twist. 

“Why’d you take out the walnuts? It’s still delicious though,” you said, devouring another piece.

“Well so many customers complain about having nut allergies now. I thought we could sell more if we take them out! You think we can sell this?” he asked eagerly.

“I think this will be our newest best seller!” you happily replied, “I’m gonna go open up the shop. See you guys soon,” you kissed them each on the cheek before taking your leave.

The bakery was down the street from your house, so the commute was only about 5 minutes even if you walked slowly. You brought your phone with you this time, so you were jamming out to your music, oblivious to the outside world. You were so out of it, that you didn’t have time to react to the person quickly rounding the corner.

One moment you were walking to work, the next you were knocked onto the cold hard ground. Your assailant fell on top of you, and you soon locked eyes with him. It was as if time stood still for a moment. He was the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. His eyes were wide with concern, and for a moment, you swore you saw stars twinkling within them. 

It took a second to register that this stranger was on top of you, in a compromising position no less. You’ve never been this close to a boy since...well it has been a while. Your legs were intertwined and his nose was only inches from yours. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you until the last second,” the boy apologized as he scrambled to get off of you. 

As he helped you up, you reassured him that you were fine. You laughed off the incident and took the boy by surprise. You had the most angelic laugh he’d ever heard. He stood awkwardly gazing at you, before you asked him if he was okay. 

“I-I’m fine! I’m glad you’re okay. I apologize again for being so careless,” he bowed.

“I’m also at fault! I wasn’t paying attention either. So shame on both of us,” you smiled to show him you were joking, “Enjoy the rest of your day, don’t run into anyone else!”

And with that, you parted ways. You forgot about the stranger as the morning rush piled into the bakery. 

Despite being located in a small town, your parent’s were nationally renowned bakers. The bakery was always busy. That was part of why you loved it so much, you were never bored. The regular customers were your favorite. Most of the townsfolk had been coming to the bakery since you were little. 

“Is this banana bread new?” Mrs. Park, the local florist, asked.

“Technically, yes. It’s the exact same recipe but without the walnuts,” you replied.

“Perfect! I’m not too fond of walnuts but I adore your parents’ banana bread,” Mrs. Park beamed, handing you a loaf along with other goods she picked up.

“How’s Jimin?” you asked as you rang her up.

“Oh he’s doing well! He loves it out there in the big city. At first, I was terrified of letting him go. He’s just always been so passionate about dancing, I finally had to cave in. He recently auditioned to be part of some fancy dance crew, and he got in! Can you believe it?” Mrs. Park began to dote on her son.

“That’s amazing! I’m happy for him,” you smiled.

“You know, ____, Jimin is still single. You two would be perfect together--”

“Long distance relationships are hard, Mrs. Park,” your mother interrupted her, swooping in to save the day. Thank god. You wouldn’t have known how to react. 

“She could always move out to the city to be with him!” Mrs. Park retorted, not picking up on the awkward situation she created. 

“I could never leave the bakery,” you responded quickly.

“Ah, yes that’s right. You have such a good daughter, Mrs. _____. Jimin never took any interest in taking over the family business. I’m jealous of you!” Mrs. Park said to your mom.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mrs. Park finally left. You were fond of her, but she never knew when to stop talking. Jimin was a good friend of yours growing up. You never wanted to admit that you had a huge crush on him. You figured it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, since he was so fixated on moving out. 

The morning rush had died down. You took this opportunity to restock and tidy things up before the afternoon rush. The store bell rang, indicating the arrival of another customer.

“Welcome in! I’ll be with you shortly,” you called out from behind the counter. 

“No worries, thanks!” the customer yelled back.

Once finished, you popped up with a bright smile on your face. Your parents taught you to always greet the customers with a smile as soon as they walk in. 

However, the customer wasn’t facing your direction. He was looking at the baked goods that aligned the opposite wall. You patiently waited for him to make his selection. He kept walking back and forth, eyeing all of the baked items. You left your station behind the counter and approached him.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” you piped up behind him.

The man jumped back, startled.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” you apologized.

“It’s okay! I didn’t hear you at all. You must be some sort of ninja-- Oh it’s you!” the boy turned around to face you.

It was the gorgeous boy who ran into you earlier. 

“Hello again! I guess it was my turn to frighten you,” you joked.

“That’s fair,” he nodded, “What’s the best thing here?”

“Mmm that’s hard for me to say, considering that I love them all. What kind of tastes and textures do you like?” your customer service persona kicked in. 

“I like sweet things I guess? I like bananas too…” he trailed off.

“We don’t have any bananas in fruit form, but we do have killer banana bread,” you beamed.

“That sounds good, but I don’t really like nuts so--”

“There are no nuts in our new recipe! You must be lucky, this is the first day that we’ve started selling them. Want me to ring you up a loaf?” you interrupted him.

“Oh no nuts? Okay, I’ll try it,” he agreed quietly.

“Would you still like to get something sweet as well?” 

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” he nodded timidly.

“Of course it’s okay! My personal favorite is our milk pudding bun. The pudding in the middle is pretty creamy plus the bread is unbelievably soft! If that’s not for you, then we have a classic chocolate bun filled with, surprise surprise, chocolate. We also have…” you led the boy around the entire bakery.

You were too focused on recommending various breads to notice him stealing glances at you that lingered longer than normal. He patiently let you talk his ear off about the goodies.

“I’ll go with the milk pudding bun,” he smiled shyly.

“That was the first one! You should’ve stopped me from rambling,” you huffed.

“I wanted to know my options. Plus you seemed pretty happy,” he added softly.

“Alright, let’s go check you out then,” you headed to the counter, “I haven’t seen you before. What brings you to our little town?” you attempted to make conversation.

“Mmm, to get away, I guess,” the boy said after a pause.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” you leaned over the counter to whisper.

“Kind of,” he whispered back.

“Stay right here, I can call the police,” you frantically murmured as you whipped out your phone.

“No no! Not like that,” he couldn’t contain his laughter, “I’m a fine arts student. My main focus is photography, but lately I haven’t been able to capture anything worth printing,” he explained.

“Ohhh,” you said, feeling dumb, “Then why come to a town in the middle of nowhere? You won’t find much here.”

“To an untrained eye, maybe so. But to a professional, beauty can be found anywhere,” he said proudly.

“Then why can’t you find anything back home? And aren’t you still a student?” you questioned.

“You know, I was really hoping that you’d let me have that,” the boy deflated.

“Aw, I’m sorry! If you ever want to take photos of the beauty that is bread, you’re always welcome here,” you smiled.

“I might take you up on that offer,” he said as he grabbed the purchased goods, “What’s your name by the way?”

“____. Yours?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Jeon Jungkook. Oh! And if you’d like a tour of the town, I’d be more than happy to show you around,” you suggested.

“That would be nice,” Jungkook pondered, “Where can I find you?”

“I’m here every day. I get off at 3pm,” you answered.

“Cool. I’ll drop by tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

“Sure! See you then!” you waved goodbye.

“Who was that?” your mother asked when the boy left.

“Some photography student that said he wanted to get away for some inspiration. I offered to give him a tour tomorrow after work,” you explained. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” your dad offered.

“I’ll be fine on my own, thanks,” you quickly turned him down.

You spent the next morning frantically flip flopping between outfits. Should you go with a pretty top paired with a skirt? Or perhaps keep it casual with a t-shirt and jeans? Or should you go with a simple dress? You know you’re supposed to be a tour guide, but you still wanted to look somewhat presentable. You settled for the dress. It gave off a “cute but not trying too hard” type of vibe. 

Time seemed to slowly drag on as you waited for Jungkook to return. You had already mapped out your route, making sure it was efficient (not like there’s much to see anyway). You wanted to surprise him with a picnic at the end of the tour. Hopefully it could help show off the natural beauty of the forests and meadows that surrounded the town. As the clock approached 3pm, you began to wonder if springing a surprise picnic on a stranger was odd. Oh god, what if it was? You hadn’t had much interaction with people your age once all your friends went off to live their own lives. Panic was starting to set in when the front bell chimed.

“Hey! I’m a little early, but I can wait around until you’re finished,” Jungkook greeted you. You noticed a fancy looking camera dangling around his chest.

“It’s all good! Business has been slow today, I’ve been bored,” you admitted.

“Oh I see--” Jungkook was cut off.

“Hi! I’m ____’s mom. Did you like the bread you bought yesterday?” your mom materialized out of nowhere with a pan of fresh bread in her hands.

“It was delicious! Better than anything I could get in the city,” Jungkook complimented.

“Why did you batch a new batch? No one has come in after 1pm,” you aggressively whispered to your mom. 

“I got bored,” she pouted, “Here, have one! On the house, think of it as a welcoming present to our town,” she motioned for Jungkook to take a fresh loaf off the tray.

Jungkook’s face lit up at the offer as he thanked her for the snack. His smile lingered as he took a bite, savoring the taste.

“You must have some sort of good luck charm; you’re getting even more free food later,” you chuckled as you plopped a wicker basket onto the checkout counter.

“Sweet,” he beamed. 

You let out a small sigh of relief. It didn’t seem like Jungkook was creeped out by the thought of eating with a stranger. With the basket in hand, you led Jungkook across the town. There truly wasn’t much to see. Your family’s bakery was in line with the rest of the town’s shops. You passed by the florist, the cafe, the grocery store, and the post office within the first 3 minutes just by walking down the street. You added in little personal stories with each business that you pointed out. 

Jungkook paused by the flower shop, in awe of all the beautiful arrangements. His eyes scanned the outside displays, as if he was looking for something. 

“Need something specific, dear?” Mrs. Park asked her potential customer. 

“Do you have Tiger flowers?” he inquired.

“Tiger… No, but I can probably order some for you,” she offered.

“Ah, that’s alright. I’m sorry to bother you,” Jungkook apologized before rejoining you.

“Did you wanna take a picture of that specific flower?” you asked him as you strolled along the sidewalk.

“Yeah, it’s my birth flower,” he shyly nodded.

“Oh nice! I don’t know what my birth flower is, but yours sounds pretty. Ah, here is the town square. Over there is the courthouse/government building/boring stuff happens in there probably,” you said as you pointed out the building.

“This is cool,” Jungkook examined a decrepit well that stood in front of the courthouse.

“I guess. I always thought it would be better if they replaced it with a big pretty fountain or something,” you mentioned as you looked down into the dark abyss of the well.

Jungkook said nothing as he began taking pictures of the well from various angles. You watched him frown at each picture he took before he tried to take another. 

“Maybe you could take a picture looking into the well? I mean, you’d probably have to stand on it to get a full shot and your feet will be in it but…” you suggested before realizing that you knew nothing about photography.

Jungkook immediately hopped onto the well, disregarding the loose pebbles that crumbled away under his weight. Pointing the camera directly down into the well, he snapped a couple of pictures. He didn’t bother hopping off of the well before scrolling through the pictures he just took. You caught yourself staring at him, admiring his features. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his lips were pursed, and the wind was blowing his bangs over his forehead ever so slightly. He really was a handsome boy, though he seemed to be completely unaware of it. 

“How’d it turn out?” you asked as he climbed down.

“Not bad actually. Better than the angles I took at first,” Jungkook smiled with approval, “I’ll show you after I touch them up.”

“I’m excited to see! Also, this basically concludes the tour because everything else is residential stuff. Unless you wanna take pictures of random people’s homes,” you joked.

“I’m good. Is this where we’re eating? I kinda skipped lunch,” Jungkook looked at the wicker basket in your hand.

“Nope! I’m gonna take you somewhere special. Are you okay with a bit of light hiking?”

“Sounds fun,” Jungkook grinned. 

“Perfect! Now it’s your turn to lug this thing around,” you said as you handed him the deceptively heavy basket. 

You took him to the outskirts of town, where nature was left untouched.

“Is this where all the cool kids have their picnics?” Jungkook asked as you led him down an old trail.

“All the cool kids left this town a while ago, so I can’t speak on their behalf. However, this is where I like to have my picnics so take that in whatever way you please,” you responded.

It was a sunny day on the verge of being too hot, but the densely wooded forest provided enough shade to make it comfortable. Your parents used to take you on walks in these woods when you (and they) were younger. Of course, now the hilly paths and loose soil would only wreak havoc on your parents’ old knees. You’ve grown accustomed to exploring on your own. Bringing Jungkook along was a pleasant change. 

“You okay with eating here?” you suddenly stopped, pointing over to a field just off the trail.

“I’ll eat anywhere, I’m starving,” Jungkook quickly nodded. 

“I’m fully aware of that; I could barely hear the birds chirping over the sounds of your stomach growling,” you teased.

An old tree that was large enough to cover up the entire picnic blanket with shade proved to be the ideal spot. Jungkook set down the wicker basket that you assigned to him earlier, eagerly waiting for you to finally open it.

“On the menu today we have fruits as an appetizer, ham and cheese sandwiches in homemade croissants as the main course, and last but not least, chocolate buns for dessert,” you proudly showcased each item.

“I never knew bread could taste so heavenly until I went to your bakery. I’m happy I walked in,” Jungkook praised as he wolfed down his sandwich.

“It’s not my bakery, it’s my parents’ bakery,” you corrected him as you ate the fruit.

“Don’t you work in it nearly every day? I don’t see how it’s not your bakery too,” Jungkook insisted.

“I’m not the one running the business,” you argued.

“You seem to put in the same amount as work as them. Instead of baking, you’re handling all of the customers. That’s gotta count for something, right?” Jungkook persisted. 

“Fine, I guess you could say it’s a family bakery. Happy?” you huffed, clearly annoyed.

  “Hey, I wasn’t trying to make you angry. I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Jungkook apologized, putting his sandwich down, “I wanted to let you know how much I love your family’s bread, that’s all.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just…” your trailed off as you gazed at the blue sky.

“I don’t want to pry, but I’m happy to sit here and listen,” Jungkook offered. 

“I don’t want to scare you away by dumping my personal issues on you,” you tried to lighten the mood.

“I don’t think you could do that, ____,” Jungkook assured you. 

Your eyes widened ever so slightly since he caught you off guard with his sincerity, but soon you gave him a soft smile.

“Fine, since we’re just sitting here anyway,” you caved as you picked up your sandwich, “I wish I wasn’t here anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I love the bakery. I just wish I got to go to a big city somewhere and attend a real university. I don’t know what I’d study, I just know that I thought my life would be different by now,” you turn away from him to hide your watery eyes.

“It’s not all that great,” Jungkook responded after a short pause, “I came from a small town too. The only difference was that it was along a beach, not by a forest. Wait, the location doesn’t matter,” he quietly scolded himself, “What I’m trying to say is that I did get away from my hometown. I was so excited to finally be a city kid. I didn’t realize how overwhelming it would be. Now look at me. I’m a senior in college with no direction in life. That’s what I get for choosing a career with no job security,” he chuckled as he looked down at the camera around his neck. 

“But are you doing what you love?” you quietly asked.

“I think so. Are you?” he asked back.

“I think so,” you sighed, finally turning to look at him. 

“I could always take you back to the city with me,” Jungkook flashed you a big bunny smile.

“Don’t joke with me like that. I hate getting my hopes up,” you playfully punch him in the arm. 

“I’m not joking!” he yelped in surprise.

The conversation turned into a more cheerful one. You both spoke about your dreams, both childhood and present day. It was fun talking with Jungkook as you both watched the clouds roll by without a care in the world. 

“Maybe you could get some pretty shots of some wildlife while we’re out here,” you recommended when the conversation came to a pause.

“Do you want to model for me?” Jungkook asked.

“Huh?” his sudden proposal surprised you.

“It’s completely okay if you don’t want to! Actually, just forget I said anything,” Jungkook looked down at the camera in his hands in a futile attempt to hide his flushed cheeks. 

“Just tell me how to pose,” you smiled, already getting up.

“Uh, just act natural,” he said awkwardly as you leaned against the thick tree trunk.

At first, you made some silly poses that made Jungkook laugh. To be honest, you only did that because you really didn’t know how to pose next to the tree while making it look natural. Forcing a smile, you attempted to lean on the tree like as if it were another person. 

“You don’t have to fake a smile,” Jungkook called from behind the camera.

“I don’t know what to do!” you called back.

“Act natural!”

“How do I do that?”

“Naturally!”

His response rewarded him a sarcastic eye roll, followed by a burst of laughter. Jungkook furiously clicked his camera as you laughed even harder. He praised you for ‘being in your natural state’ as he took shots from ridiculous angles. He gave you a thumbs up after he was satisfied with the impromptu photoshoot.

“Is laughing until I can’t breathe just me being in my natural state?” you asked playfully as you sat back down on the picnic blanket.

“It was authentic, so I would say so. I wish I could capture sound too, your laugh is so cute,” Jungkook said nonchalantly as he scrolled through the photos.

His eyes widened as soon as he realized what he said. He opened his mouth to try and take it back, or at least cover it up. He looked over at you shyly, only to see that you were digging out dessert from the basket. He let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, you didn’t hear him. 

“How were the pictures?” you asked, scooting to sit beside him after handing him the dessert.

“See for yourself,” he proudly showed you.

You were amazed by his talent. Even without editing, the photos looked like they were ready to be submitted into a contest. Everything looked so perfect. Your smile was genuine, the lighting was optimal, and your hair looked surprisingly good. You applauded him for his talent, to which he bashfully denied by saying he was still such an amatuer. You both finally dug into the desserts. 

“These chocolate buns were amazing,” Jungkook licked his lips after he finished it.

“They’re my personal favorite! They’re also the best things that I can make on my own,” you winked at him as you finished yours.

“You made these?” Jungkook’s doe eyes filled with awe.

“Yep! Don’t act so surprised,” you pouted.

“Sorry, it’s just that you told me your parents bake everything. These were really good! Probably the best things I’ve had since--oh wait. You have a little something,” Jungkook leaned forward to wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb. 

You both froze for a second, in shock of this intimate gesture. Jungkook’s mouth opened to apologize, but you stopped him before he had the chance. Without thinking about it, you put your mouth around his thumb. You sucked on it for a second before you snapped back to reality. You started apologizing profusely the instant his thumb left your mouth. 

“It’s okay! I shouldn’t have touched you in the first place,” Jungkook shied away from you, refusing to look you in the eyes. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” you apologized as you grabbed his hand.

Jungkook looked at you with an embarrassed expression the moment you held his hand in yours. At first you didn’t realize why he was so embarrassed, you were the one sucking his thumb. But then, you noticed Jungkook sheepishly resting his other hand in his lap.

“Jungkook,” you said sweetly.

“Yes?” he answered, his eyes averting yours once more. 

“Do you want me to do it again?”

“Huh?” he looked back at you with disbelief. 

You made a bold move as you moved to straddle his lap, each leg settling beside his waist. You brought his hand up to your mouth and batted your eyes innocently.

“Like this,” you say before licking his pointer finger. 

Jungkook gulped while slowly nodding his head, giving you permission to continue. His eyes stayed glued on you as you wrapped your lips around his finger. You dragged your flattened out tongue from the base to the tip. You then reversed this motion, but instead only using the tip of your tongue. You began to work on his middle finger as well. It was hard to fit his long fingers in your mouth, but you’re no quitter. Your tongue weaved between his fingers, adequately coating them with your saliva.

Jungkook’s breaths quickened the longer you went on. You felt a bulge grow between your thighs as you straddled him. Perhaps wearing a dress was a great idea after all. Your hips began to move on their own as you slowly grinded on Jungkook. 

“____…” Jungkook moaned quietly when you daringly took three fingers into your mouth.

Rubbing your clothed pussy against his hard crotch spurred you on even more. Drool was dribbling down Jungkook’s arm and your chin, but neither of you cared. It just made you look more erotic to him. His other hand was on your hip to help you maintain a rhythm. You opened your eyes to make contact with his as you suckled his fingers. That’s all it took to make him come undone.

He quickly pushed you off of him as he cried out. You were both too shocked to say anything for a few seconds. Jungkook seemed too embarrassed to look you in the eyes again, his cheeks bright red.

“Jungkook, I--” you started to apologize.

“You probably think I’m pretty lame huh? Cumming in my pants like some sort of middle schooler,” he looked down in defeat. 

“What? No, of course not!” you disagreed.

“Don’t lie,” Jungkook refused to believe you.

“Jungkook, that was honestly the hottest thing I’ve ever done. What we just did was hotter than when I was actually having sex,” you tried to cheer him up. 

“You’re not lying?” Jungkook finally looked up at you with sad puppy dog eyes.

“I swear I’m not. I could help you clean it up, if you’d like,” you offered. 

“I think that would make me feel worse. Just hand me some napkins and I’ll go take care of it myself,” he declined.

You packed everything up while you waited for Jungkook to return. He discreetly threw away the ball of used napkins into the designated trash bag, praying to god that you weren’t looking. 

The walk back was quiet and awkward. Neither of you knew what to say. You were horrified with how you acted; you’ve never been so bold before. Jungkook was ashamed of cumming before he had the chance to do anything to you. He felt so pathetic. 

“I’m sorry for making you so uncomfortable, Jungkook,” you finally apologized.

“Are you kidding? You think I would cum that fast if I was uncomfortable?” Jungkook looked at you with incredulity, “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m disgusting and came in my pants while you did all the hard work.”

“You’re not disgusting at all, Jungkook. I enjoyed it too. I can’t remember the last time I was that horny,” you laughed.

All the tension in the air had disappeared. Jungkook bounced back to being his cheery self. The conversation went back to normal as you brought him back to the bakery. You hugged him goodbye and were about to leave when he caught your hand.

“Thank you so much for the tour. I know we’ve only known each other for a day but... would you like to go on a date with me?” Jungkook asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“No,” you said firmly, watching his shoulders fall, “I’d love to go on a date with you,” you smirked.

“You jerk!” Jungkook gasped. 

You couldn’t help it, he was too easy to tease. After working out the details, it was decided that he would come pick you up on Friday night. 

Jungkook took you to basically the only restaurant in town (that wasn’t the cafe). It was a family run Italian eatery, and it took Jungkook by surprise.

“Is everyone in this place a master chef or something? This is delicious!” he praised as he ate his pasta.

“I guess it’s the authenticity of family recipes? You probably eat at more chain restaurants while you’re in the city,” you shrugged as you twirled noodles around your fork.

The date went on pleasantly. Jungkook wanted to know as much about you as you did him. The conversations you had were lively and fun; there was never a dull moment with him. Something about him just automatically clicked with you.

“What’s your favorite thing to photograph?” you asked.

“I like taking pictures of landscapes and buildings. That’s why I was super excited about going to a university in the city. It’s a lot easier than taking pictures of people! Unfortunately, that’s where the money is right now,” he explained.

“You don’t like taking pictures of people?”

“Not really, no,” he answered bluntly.

“Then why did you ask me to model for you?” you were genuinely curious.

Jungkook froze in his seat. He took a long sip of his drink before answering you. 

“For practice, I suppose,” he said softly. 

“I’m happy I was able to help then,” you smiled, thinking nothing of it. 

Jungkook seemed grateful that you didn’t press for more details, and was soon coaxed out of his shy shell once the topic of anime came around. You were happy that he took you out on a proper date, you hadn’t been on one in so long.

He walked you back under the pale moonlight. You were admiring the twinkling stars when you realized that Jungkook hadn’t said anything in a while. His hand awkwardly brushed against yours when you first left the restaurant, but you didn’t think much of it. Jungkook seemed to be thinking hard about something as he walked alongside you. You were going to say something when the back of his hand brushed against yours again. He instantly pulled away and uttered a small “sorry”.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you were worried now, you thought the date went well. 

“Nothing…,” his voice trailed off as he looked away.

You interlocked his pinky with yours without a word. Jungkook looked over at you with surprise, but said nothing. He admonished himself for not committing to hold your hand, but he was happy with this too. In fact, he thought it was cuter than actual hand holding.

You arrived in front of your house. Bidding Jungkook goodnight, you went in for a hug. Jungkook also went in for a hug, but he leaned the same way you did. In a quick bumble, your lips grazed the corner of Jungkook’s, causing you to jump back. You stood in Jungkook’s arms, looking away in embarrassment. He brought up one of his hands to cup your cheek, forcing you to look back at him. His eyes sparkled under the moonlight as he gazed into yours. 

Slowly, you found yourself leaning forward. Jungkook met you in the middle, his lips finding yours. It was a tender kiss, sweet and soft. You broke it off after a couple seconds to giggle, but Jungkook pulled you back into it. He kissed you gently, yet with so much passion. You reciprocated his affection as your fingers intertwined with his hair, deepening the kiss.

He finally pulled away, smiling back at you. To be honest, you wish it lasted longer. However, you knew you would have had a hard time controlling yourself if it did.

“Thank you for dinner,” you thanked him with a soft voice.

“Of course, thank you for accompanying me,” he bowed like a gentleman and kissed your hand. You couldn’t help but laugh at his gesture.

“Too much?” he tilted his head.

“Don’t change a thing,” you continued to laugh. 

All sorts of thoughts about Jungkook swam in your mind as you fell asleep that night. 

Jungkook soon began to hangout with you every day. When he wasn’t out trying to take pictures, he would be in the bakery keeping you company. Your parents teased him, saying that he better buy something or else they’d kick him out, but they never did. In fact, your mom would always sneak him some freshly baked goods. 

After work, you and Jungkook would spend even more time together. It didn’t matter if you guys were exploring nature, cooling off in the stream, or just watching movies; you enjoyed it all. It was nice having someone to talk to for a change. Jungkook never asked to make plans with you, he just assumed you guys would hangout the next day when he said “see ya tomorrow!”

You knew you had a crush on Jungkook, but you didn’t know how he felt. Yes, he took you on a date. Yes, you’ve kissed. Yes, you made in cum in his pants (not necessarily in that order). You were waiting on him to ask you to be his girlfriend. You didn’t want to pressure him, especially when you knew that he’d be going back to school in the fall. 

One day, much to your chagrin, Jungkook was helping you with inventory. You argued that he shouldn’t work since he wasn’t getting paid, but he smiled and replied that spending time with you was all the payment he needed. You were too flustered to argue after that.

“Great, everything has been accounted for! Can you help me put this box back up there?” you asked him, nodding your head at a particularly high shelf that was out of your reach. You grabbed a step stool for him to make it easier.

Jungkook lifted up the heavy box of supplies with ease, and placed it back on the shelf. He looked down at you and smiled.

“What?” you cocked your head.

He said nothing as he leaned down and kissed your forehead, “You just look cute from up here.”

You looked away as you blushed, not knowing what to say. Jungkook laughed as he got down from the step stool. He teased you about it for the rest of the day.

Days flew by as it was getting closer and closer to Jungkook’s departure. You let Jungkook decide on what to do during his last day there. He picked you up at the bakery after your shift. He wanted to take one last stroll with you around town before he had to leave. You were about to hug him goodbye when he invited you over, saying that he had a box of popcorn he needed help finishing.

After watching a couple movies, Jungkook had his arms around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. Cuddling had become a norm between you two. Jungkook suddenly nudged your side, causing you to shriek.

“Sorry, just making sure you were still awake,” he giggled.

“I was, but now I definitely am,” you said as you returned the favor and tickled his sides.

It soon became a war of tickling as laughter erupted from both of you. Jungkook was just as ticklish as you were, making it a deadly battle. Before you knew it, you were straddling Jungkook, gripping both of his wrists in your hands. You both stared at each other as the laughter subsided, now replaced with heavy breathing. 

“You could easily knock me over, you know,” you said as you lowered your nose to his.

“What if I don’t want to?” he whispered back.

He moved his head upwards to kiss you, catching you by surprise. You kissed him back, pushing him back down. You lowered your hips to rest on his hardened crotch. You let go of his wrists to help him take off his shirt before removing your own. 

Once your lips connected again, Jungkook’s hands moved freely over your body, gently caressing your breasts. He treated you so tenderly, it made you even hornier. Your hands reached down to unzip his pants.

“Is this okay?” you paused to ask.

“Only if you take off your pants too,” he answered with a smirk.

Soon enough you were both down to just your underwear. You palmed Jungkook’s erection, curious to see it. It already felt huge in comparison to your hands.

“I want to fuck you, _____,” Jungkook groaned as you kissed his neck.

“I’m glad we want the same thing. Where do you want me?” you cooed. 

“Like this is fine,” he quickly answered. 

He helped you take off his underwear, revealing his massive dick. Your pussy clenched at the sight of it. You wriggled out of your panties and positioned yourself on top of him. 

“Ready?” you asked.

Jungkook just nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation. He gulped as he watched you slowly lower yourself onto him, taking in each inch slowly. You moaned as he went deeper and deeper in you. You hadn’t had sex in a long time (and admittedly it wasn’t very good). Now, you were sopping wet and Jungkook was filling you up perfectly. Once you reached the base of his dick, you took your time going back up.

From the look on Jungkook’s face, he was in pure bliss. You continued to tease him as you fucked him slowly. You transitioned from taking his entire length to just swiveling around his tip, making him moan from the overstimulation. Jungkook dug his nails into your lower back, begging you to take all of him in again.

You leaned back over and peppered kisses along his chest and up his neck. Jungkook whimpered at the sensation, his breathing grew uneven. You giggled at him as you suckled on his neck, leaving wet kisses in your wake. Once you had enough of teasing him, you slammed back down onto him, and both your moans filled the room. Your hips began to move faster as you bounced on top of him. Jungkook’s grip on you tightened. 

“I--I’m gonna cum,” he panicked.

You immediately hopped off, hoping to edge him. He whimpered at the loss of your warm pussy, but your plan seemed to work. His eyes begged you to get back on top. 

“Now it’s your turn to fuck me,” you demanded as you laid down on your back.

Jungkook complied and positioned himself between your legs. He bent over to kiss you while he pushed his cock back inside of you. He took his time at first, but then tried to pick up the pace. His movements were awkward and stiff, and his pelvis hit your hips in a way that you knew they were going to bruise later.

“Jungkook, just relax,” you commanded.

Jungkook steadied his breathing and took your advice. He was finally able to find a rhythm and stuck to it. Luckily, it was the perfect rhythm for you as he continuously grazed your g-spot. Jungkook moaned with every stroke as your warm insides squeezed around him. You wrapped your legs around him, bringing him even closer. You looked up at him to see that the usual sweet star filled doe eyes of his had switched to a version of pure ecstasy as he gazed down at you with blown out pupils. The change was a little jarring, but also incredibly sexy when you realized the potential duality Jungkook could have. You pulled him into a deep kiss, tongues exploring foreign regions as he pounded into you. 

“I’m gonna--,” his breath hitched.

“Cum on me baby,” you panted as you furiously rubbed your clit, desperate to cum with him.

With perfect timing, Jungkook got to feel you cum around him for a few seconds before he had to pull out and finish all over your chest. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before scurrying off to find something to clean you with. 

He rested his head on your chest as you held him close. You were falling asleep when he said something.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked him since you barely heard him.

“I am, well I guess was, a virgin,” Jungkook admitted.

“Oh,” you tried to mask your surprise.

“I didn’t wanna say anything. I mean, how lame is it that I’m a college senior and have never gotten laid. You’re probably surprised huh? I’m not lying, I swear.”

“I am surprised, but only because you seem like ladies would be all over you. You’re so handsome, funny, charming--”

“Yes yes keep going,” Jungkook joked.

“--and a genuinely good guy. Plus I feel like being a photographer would help you meet a lot of pretty girls,” you reasoned.

“While all of that is true, the real reason is pretty embarrassing. I’m...I’ve always been kinda scared of girls,” Jungkook sighed as you tried to suppress your laughter, “I’m not kidding! I always get so nervous around girls, I could never actually talk to them.”

“So am I not a girl in your eyes?” you teased.

“You’re a woman,” he answered cockily.

“Shut up! I hope your first time was enjoyable. Thanks for entrusting me with your v card,” you laughed.

You both continued joking and laughing the night away until you fell asleep in each other’s arms. While that night was enjoyable, it made Jungkook’s absence hurt more. 

Life had sunk back into the same mundane routines once Jungkook left. Of course, he still kept in touch. He would text and video call you as often as he could. He’d send you pictures of his newest shooting locations, and you’d always be the first person he’d show his finished products. 

You loved witnessing Jungkook’s passion grow, he had a new spark in him that wasn’t there before. With your encouragement as an extra shove, he applied to his dream job. He explained to you that it was with an agency that would send him to a random country where he’d work with a participating magazine company. You secretly envied him for even having the possibility of exploring the world. 

Days and weeks started to blend together. Your parents insisted on having you help out more in the kitchen, presumably to get your mind off of Jungkook. 

It was a weird fling you had with him. However, it also didn’t seem like a fling. Most flings didn’t still keep in touch in a long distance “friendship”, or whatever it was you had. You were never officially dating, but it sure as hell felt that way. You cursed yourself for waiting for him to ask, you should’ve just done it yourself. Of course, part of you felt like you’d just hold him back if you guys actually ended up dating. 

These thoughts constantly swarmed your mind. Ironically, the only time you weren’t thinking about your dilemma was when you were chatting with Jungkook. The end of the semester was quickly approaching, and you could tell that he was getting antsy. He hadn’t gotten offers from anywhere that he applied. You could do nothing but give him hope but assuring him that someone somewhere will hire him. 

You watched snow fall outside when you got a call. 

“I GOT IN!!!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“What?! Where?!” you jumped up in excitement.

“My top choice! The one where they send me to another country! Guess where I’m going,” he sing songed.

“Umm… Italy?”

“Close! I’m going to España,” he said with a spanish accent.

“That’s amazing, Jungkook. I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it. When do you leave?” you asked.

“In a week. God, I’m so excited! Oh, my parents are calling. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course. Congrats again,” you cheered before he hung up.

Before you knew it, you were crying. You were honestly happy for Jungkook, but reality hit you. You were never going to be able to tell him that you loved him. You were never going to be with him, not while you’re stuck in this town. It sucked, but you had no choice but to accept that. 

Two days had passed since that phone call. Jungkook was probably busy packing and working out minor details, so you stayed out of his way. You figured things would probably be like this from now on. Why would he bother talking to a small town girl while he’s out exploring the world? 

You were restocking the milk puddings rolls when the front bell chimed. 

“I’ll be with you in a second,” you called out.

“No worries, I’ll wait all day if I have to,” a familiar voice responded.

You dropped the rolls as you turned around with lightning fast speed. Jungkook stood at the doorway, beaming a big bunny smile at you. You ran to him, embracing him in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. 

“Surprise,” he smiled.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you wiped tears from your eyes.

“I needed to see you. I was planning on coming back and surprising you even before I left. You didn’t think I’d leave without saying goodbye, did you?” he ruffled your hair, “Oh, and those tiger flowers are beautiful,” he nodded over to the flower bouquet on the checkout counter.

“I got them because they reminded me of you,” you blushed, your ears turning red.

“Did I hear Jungkook?” you mom poked her head out of the kitchen, “Oh my goodness! Honey look! Jungkook is back!” she called your dad. 

Your parents came out to greet him. He explained everything to them, and they congratulated him. 

“How long will you be here? Aren’t you leaving soon?” your dad inquired.

“I leave tomorrow night. I wish I could stay longer,” Jungkook answered solemnly. 

“____ suddenly doesn’t have to work until after you’ve left,” your mom smiled fondly at you.

Your eyes lit up as you kissed your parents on the cheek to thank them. After grabbing your jacket, you took Jungkook’s hand and dragged him out. You both aimlessly walked around the town as you chatted. He went more in depth with the details of his job. He was most excited about capturing photos of the city. After looking up some pictures of the architecture, he immediately fell in love with Madrid.

Jungkook invited you over to watch some of the short films he worked on over the past semester. While they were just videos of his friends with no plot, you could feel their friendship seeping through the screen. The way Jungkook played with music and colors really enhanced the already well shot video. You felt at peace sitting beside Jungkook on his bed as he showed you all his past projects. Part of you wished that this moment would never end. 

“You’ve made me a better person, you know,” Jungkook said out of nowhere, “I’m more talkative around my friends, and I’ve gotten more comfortable with being myself.”

“I didn’t do anything, that’s all you,” you smiled as you poked his chest. 

“You definitely helped,” he ran his fingers through your hair, “I love you, ____.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too. I thought I’d never get to say that,” you said with a sigh of relief. 

He looked into your eyes before leaning forward slowly. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, you practically pounced on him. You kissed him passionately, as if to show him how much you missed him. Clothes were thrown in every direction leading to bare skin being exposed.

Jungkook’s soft hands roamed across your body as if he were trying to memorize your every curve. His touch was a bit rougher than the last time, his lips crashed against yours as he pinched your nipples. You couldn’t tell if it was desperation, carnal lust, or just a new side of Jungkook, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. His erection pressed against your thigh as your hands tangled themselves in his dark hair. You reached down to grab his cock, gripping from the base and slowly dragging your hand to the tip and then back down. He shuddered at the sensation, moaning into your mouth. 

“Should I get on top?” you batted your eyes.

“Nope, I have a better idea,” Jungkook growled as he flipped you over onto your knees, “Can I fuck you like this?”

“Fuck me however you want,” you answered gleefully. 

Jungkook rammed into you without hesitation. He firmly gripped your hips to keep you in place as he thrusted into you. His dick sent waves of ecstasy as he crashed into you. He surprised you when he reached his hand around you to play with your clit, causing you to squirm under him.

“Be a good girl and stay still,” he ordered. 

His newfound dominance turned you on. He was no longer the baby boy that followed your every move, although you were sure that side of him was still there somewhere. You got lost in pleasure and didn’t realize how far gone you were till you felt liquid dripping down your inner thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet baby. All this for me?” Jungkook panted as he continued snapping his hips into you.

“Mhm, of course. Only for you,” you managed to moan out between thrusts.

“That’s my good girl. Get up,” he demanded as he hopped off the bed. 

You obeyed, curious as to what he was going to do. As soon as you got off the bed, he spun you around and pushed your chest back over the covers. He slipped back into you with ease, groaning as your slick juices coated his cock. This new position enabled Jungkook to directly hit your g-spot with each thrust. Again, his hand wrapped around your waist to find your clit. His other hand found purchase on your neck, slightly choking you. The overstimulation had you crying out in bliss that you had never experienced before.  

You were practically gushing now as your wetness ran down your legs and sprayed onto Jungkook’s thighs with each strong impact.  Jungkook lifted up one of your legs onto the bed, spreading your pussy.

“Now touch yourself for me,” Jungkook directed.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your legs started to shake as you played with your clit at the perfect pace while Jungkook drilled into you. You were sure that you had already came numerous times by this point, but you could feel the grand finale soon approaching.   

“Jungkook I--” you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence as you climaxed onto his dick. He was infatuated with the way you looked from behind, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He pushed you back onto the bed with your legs still hanging from the edge. He reinserted himself while you laid there, completely delusional from the pounding you had been receiving. 

“You’re such a sexy woman,” he moaned as he anchored the weight of his arms onto your shoulders. 

He continued his torment downwards. Your bountiful cheeks bounced back and forth while he repeatedly rammed into your g-spot causing you to release more of the juices his massive cock craved. 

 He slowed his pace but still kept going to help you ride out your high for as long as possible. The sensation of you cumming on him was enough to bring him right to the brink of no return.

“Can I cum on you?” he pleaded in a tone all too familiar to you.

“Please do,” you nodded.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he said as he gave you a couple more hard thrusts before pulling out and coating your ass with white strings. 

Jungkook held you in his arms after wiping you down with a towel, both of your chests heaving in sync. You both managed to work up a sweat, but Jungkook still smelled amazing. He played with your hair as your eyelids started to get heavy. 

“_____,” he whispered softly.

“Yes, Jungkook?” you replied with your eyes still closed. 

“Come with me.”

“What?” your eyes shot open. 

“Come with me to Spain. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t care. You’ll finally get the adventure you’ve always wanted, and we’ll do it together,” he kissed your forehead. 

His unexpected proposition had you overwhelmed. You were speechless. You would go with him in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t matter where you’d go, as long as you were with him. 

“Jungkook...you know I can’t do that,” you fought back tears, nuzzling yourself further into his chest. 

“I wanted to ask your parents as soon as I arrived but you rushed me out too quickly and--”

“I can’t leave them, you know that,” silent tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“I think they’d understand. Plus, you’ve said that they’ve tried to convince you to go to college,” Jungkook was getting desperate, he thought you’d agree on the spot.

“They need my help now more than ever. My parents are getting old. As much as I want to leave this place, I can’t. I’m going to be stuck here forever. I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you wept.

“It’s okay, ___. We can ask them tomorrow, how does that sound?” he rubbed your back. 

“No, I can’t do that to them. You know they’ll say yes. I have to stay,” you sniffled.

“You’re a great daughter. I can’t force you to come with me. I’ll miss you. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Jungkook’s voice started to falter.

“Don’t worry about me. Go live out your life. Eat great food. Take beautiful pictures. Meet pretty girls,” you tried to lighten the mood.

“You think I want to meet pretty girls? Why would I do that when I have you,” he hugged you tightly.

“We aren’t even dating, Jungkook. I don’t want to hinder you more than I already have,” you blurted. 

“I...I know we aren’t dating. Not officially. But that’s just a stupid label. I want to be with you,” Jungkook’s voice softened to hide his pain. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said as you got up.

Jungkook immediately pulled you back into him. Your nose brushed against his wet cheek, causing you to freeze up when you realized that he had also been crying.

“Please stay with me. At least just for tonight,” he pleaded.

“Alright. I can do that,” you softly kiss him. 

You woke up the next morning with your head on Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook looked adorable while he was asleep, with his mouth agape and his hair falling messily over his forehead. You tried to inch away, but he just pulled you closer, making it impossible to escape. 

He woke up with a yawn a couple minutes later. He smiled down at you before ruffling your hair.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry about last night. I--”

“Let’s not talk about it. This is my last day with you for god knows how long. Let’s just enjoy ourselves, okay?” he interrupted you.

It had been three years since that spring when you met Jungkook. You sometimes reminisce about the times you had with Jeon Jungkook. It honestly felt like a dream. Communication with him slowly faded away, and now the only conversations you had with him were one message long during birthdays and holidays. You kept up with him more through Instagram. He regularly uploaded his beautiful pictures, and you could tell that his talent only grew. He had a knack for making dull buildings and streets come to life. 

Your parents planned to retire soon, leaving you to tend to the bakery by yourself. They mainly managed the front-of-house work during the busy hours now. Their goal was to finally sell the bakery, but you protested against it. As much as you wanted to be rid of the chains that tied you down, you were scared. You didn’t know what you would do if the bakery was suddenly gone. It was all you’ve ever known. 

Ever since your parents announced their retirement plans, you started to dabble in pastry making. They were impressed with your skills, and your creations got added to the menu. Word spread that the already famous bakery was now carrying delicious pastries, and business soared. 

You were busy decorating your latest desserts when your mother came into the kitchen.

“Your father and I have to go run a quick errand, we’ll be back soon!” she said before giving you time to protest. You grumbled to yourself as you placed strawberries on your cakes, praying that no one would come in.

“Hello? Anyone here? The sign says open,” someone called from the front.

‘God dammit’, you thought before putting on a fake customer service smile. 

“Welcome to--” you stopped in your tracks.

Jungkook was standing in the middle of your bakery, looking even more handsome than you had remembered him. His face lit up as soon as he saw you. You couldn’t help yourself as you ran towards him, colliding into him with a forceful hug.

“I hear you sell desserts now,” he grinned.

“Jungkook! What are you doing here? Your hair, it’s so long! And...do you have tattoos now?!” you were in shock. 

“Do I look more artsy now?” he laughed, “I came to see you. I wanted to try your desserts too, of course. No one would believe me when I said nothing can compare to your family’s bakery. Oh, I have a present for you.”

You became giddy with excitement as Jungkook brought out a brown paper bag and handed it to you. You pulled out prints of a beautiful girl standing in a forest. Wait...it looked familiar…

“Is this me?” you asked as your mouth hung open.

“Yeah, these are the pictures from when you took me on that picnic. Would you believe me if I said I barely had to touch anything up? They were already nearly perfect,” Jungkook said proudly.

“It’s because you’re a talented photographer,” you smiled.  

“That, and because I had the perfect model. How could I not ask the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen to model for me?” he said as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“So I wasn’t just practice?” you recalled asking him about it all those years ago.

“I was so nervous back then, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth,” he laughed, “I’m much more open now.”

You promptly switched the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’ and sat Jungkook down. You brought out one of your fresh strawberry cakes, eager to hear his opinion. His face contorted with pleasure as he took the first bite. He complimented the flavors and textures, saying that everything tasted like perfect harmony. You laughed together as he shared stories of his time abroad. He intently listened while you opened up about the struggles of the bakery. 

“Anyway, that’s enough complaining for now. I’m happy you’re back! How long are you staying for this time?” you tilted your head. 

“Depends,” Jungkook answered as he gazed out the window. He looked back at you with a serious expression. He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you close, bringing your face just inches away from his.

“Do you still want to explore the world?” he asked.

“Of course, that’ll never change. But...you know I can’t,” you answered somberly. 

“After everything you just told me, you still think you have to stay here?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, “My next gig is going to be in France. Come with me this time, _____.”

You stared at him with a stunned expression. You thought he had forgotten about you. Now here he is, asking you to run away with him again.

“Why did you lose touch? I thought you had moved on. I made peace with that. God, it hurt like hell, but I came to terms with it. And now we’re doing this again,” your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes.

“Honestly, it hurt me too much. I couldn’t bear talking to you every day or video chatting you, without knowing when I’d see you next. I never stopped thinking about you. I tried. I tried to forget...but no one could ever come close to you,” Jungkook cupped your cheek in his palm, “There’s a really good patissiere academy close to where I’ll be working. You could go there and sharpen your skills! Then maybe one day open up a bakery of your own...if you wanted.”

“But what about my parents--”

“Stop using us as an excuse to hold yourself back,” your mom scolded you as she entered the bakery.

“Did you like your surprise?” your dad winked.

“You knew?” you were bewildered.

“Jungkook contacted us a while back, asking if we thought his plan could ever be a possibility. I figured you were still head over heels for him since you never dated anyone else,” your mom shrugged.

“If you want to go, go. Don’t worry about us. We can sell the bakery, and finally retire,” your dad said. 

“You have your parents’ blessing, ____. This decision is entirely up to you. What’s it gonna be? Will you come with me to France?” Jungkook asked again.

“I..,” you looked at your parents before your eyes wandered back to Jungkook, “Yes. I’d love to,” tears of joy rolled down your cheeks.

Jungkook got up and embraced you in a tight hug before he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much,” in your ear. 

“Well, we better start packing,” Jungkook turned to your parents.

“Packing? Already?” your eyes widened. 

“We leave by the end of the week!” Jungkook gleefully took your hand and dashed out of the store. 

Jungkook dragged you through the town up to your house. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched his long hair bounce around while you ran. You could’ve sworn that sometimes they looked like bunny ears.

He was definitely Jungkook, but he seemed like the upgraded version of the shy boy you once knew. He had a new confident aura around him, and he seemed more manly than boyish now. Everything was happening so quickly, but you were nothing but excited for the adventures to come. 

As long as Jungkook was by your side, you were ready to take on the world. 

Published March 26, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.

[ganymedesclock]

Ooh ooh ooh, how about your version of Sonic for the powers thing?

You see, Sonic is fast, because if he doesn't keep ahead of his problems, he'll have to actually think about them, and then he'll have a crisis.

This is partially a fun opener joke and it's also not. I'll let you decide how much of each it is. In the meantime, I'm going to talk about what my reads of various canons inspire in me, and how that informs Worlds AU, a bit more than talking about Worlds AU itself.

So Sonic in the initial game canon, started out with an extremely simple conceit. You can see this mirrored across all of the non-Amy classic characters: Sonic runs, that's his thing; Tails flies, Knuckles punches, Eggman makes robots and also problems, which sort of condenses into one thing considering the role robots have in the classic games.

(that damn caterkiller has cost me SO many attempts at a chaos emerald...)

This sort of got to be a problem as the games advanced. In particular, the Sonic game I started on was Sonic Adventure 2, which pitted Sonic very prominently off of Shadow. At this point, character concepts are no longer about simple capabilities, and every other member of the cast has grown up. (even Amy... though not too much. sorry Amy). Tails is now building robots to go with how his flight allows him to reach unconventional 'tricky' routes; Knuckles is now more of an adventurer, explorer, and even a mystic given his history and relationship with the emeralds. This earthly pugilist sense grounds him in a more versatile skill-set.

Sonic... basically his gimmick was remaining true to the classic formula- he was still the one going fast, popping those shuttle loops, and tumbling through a chaotic universe. Yes, they absolutely polished this and put flourishes on it- now he's grinding rails and flipping on poles, this sense of street-smart parkour that carries him cheekily through any environment...

But he's played off Shadow, where the thing about Shadow, especially in the first game, is Shadow is a person who suppresses most of his personality for his context. Not in an inorganic or badly written sense, mind- but he outright says to Rouge at one point that it doesn't matter if anything he remembers is fake- in essence, that it's more real than he is, and a dead person's wish is more important than his life.

Shadow is a soldier, is an alien, is a bioweapon, is a teleporter and he shoots lasers. We are beyond the days of simple conceits; if he was conceived in the classic era, he'd have probably been either only a jet-skater or a teleporter, and that one conceit about how he moved through the world would've been through everything.

Sonic picks up the chaos control from Shadow- in direct reaction to Shadow- and this is commented on. In this scene, Sonic not only rejects Shadow's unhealthy obsession with context- that where he came from was everything- but mirrors it with an attitude that, frankly, to me, rings just as unbalanced- Sonic basically denies having a backstory whatsoever.

"What you see is what you get!" he says.

And that flew in the classic era. We didn't really have a consistent or strongly-drawn backstory over why Sonic was fast. Most continuities around that era point it to either an accident or a happenstance synergy with an outside force. But we didn't really need a story over why Tails can fly or why Knuckles had spurs on his fists.

But in the modern era... there's context. Many characters have superpowers. And more and more, there was a sense that those superpowers had context and history, whether the outright spelled, like Shadow (he was engineered to be capable of this; if you look at him, he has most of the abilities you'd expect of a boss fight in Resident Evil, minus the squelchy, infectious sorts and the Black Arms imply he could well have those and just not use them)

...or the simply alluded, such as Blaze's ominous comment that her flames are the reason she was always alone.

Sonic... clearly has powers. He's been reframed to keep up with he setting as it changes. But that exchange between him and Shadow- where Shadow looks at what Sonic is capable of, looks at him, and asks, verbatim, "what are you," and Sonic delivers a non-answer so naked and so certain that there's not really anything to say to that.

To this end, while I think it's highly intuitive that they picked the wind as the motif to spice Sonic up to- with its sense of freedom, and with its association with speed- I think there's also something about air in general that connects to Sonic.

Air is... omnipresent. It has an extremely complex seething system high overhead. Enormous paths and belts and spirals of wind curl over us all the time, pushing clouds the size of entire states around like it's nothing. When you look at the sky, it looks stationary. But wait, squint- it's actually moving. It's actually moving really fast.

One of my absolute favorite characterizing moments of Sonic is in Archie Comics, specifically the post-reboot series. To keep context minimal, Tails confides in Sonic that he's losing his memory of a certain incident that affected both of them, and he's worried; Sonic reassures him, typical hero big brother best friend, and gives him a big hug. The scene is warmly lit.

The very next panel is literally in the shadows, over Tails' shoulder and behind his back. And Sonic's expression is... troubled. Telling. We immediately understand from that alone he just lied, and has no ability to 'just remember for Tails'.

Sonic is not a vacuous person. He's not empty, he's not innocent, and he's certainly not just your same good nostalgic friend who never changed or got complicated so you don't have to reevaluate all of those things- the guy you can always count on, just like the sky is always there- but he sure pretends to be all of those things, and tries to keep the stormy weather as far away from other people as possible.

This is given another heroic-sounding-but-actually-concerning context in Sonic Unleashed, one of several games in which Sonic shows a maybe suspicious but profound aptitude for darkness where he guzzles and serves as a very powerful conduit for the energy of Dark Gaia, who is strongly connoted with rage, despair, denial, and other states considered bad for your health.

Sonic asks Chip- who he's just found out is Dark Gaia's counterpart- if it was his protection that kept him from losing his mind the entire time. Chip denies this, and states instead it's that "you never let the darkness win."

The thing is... anger and sadness are actually pretty important to feel. And it's actually not true that Sonic as a character doesn't feel anger- there's a few rather notable scenes in which he really loses his cool, some of them within Sonic Unleashed itself (he actually scares Eggman at the culmination of the Egg Dragoon fight) and in the game Sonic and the Secret Rings he actually achieves a super form powered by negative emotions- and that game also ends on a surprisingly melancholy note, where Shahra, when leaving Sonic, specifically gives him a bunch of tissues, a nod to how they met, and specifically "So you can cry as much as you need to."

Sonic is a good person. But Sonic is also... kind of a liar. He has this powerful connection to these highly destructive and dangerous entities- Dark Gaia, Chaos- and this is a thing he, pointedly, doesn't wonder about. And it's not arrogance, or an inability to consider the possibilities- in Sonic Colors he is very real with himself that he can't outrun a black hole, but only admits that once Tails is out of earshot on the one safe ride away from it- and while gearing up to try to do so anyway.

Wind is a contradictory thing. In the sky, we consider the possibility of ultimate freedom; flight and wings are often depicted as symbols of enormous power and efficacy because the very notion of being able to go wherever you want to captivates us.

On the other hand, though, a state of freefall is terrifying. In the unparalleled freedom of the sky, absolutely nothing can catch you if you fall.

(you know, except Tails, if you're fighting Eggman in Marble Garden- I'll leave)

We can talk about a bolt from the blue, a sudden storm or a just-as-sudden clear blue sky... the mechanisms of the air around us are often very hard to perceive for their superficial simplicity. And on sunny days when the wind lazes slowly through the leaves, it's hard to think of it as capable of hurricane forces.

I guess the note I want to leave this on is, it's pretty interesting how Sonic genuinely likes running, but he also tends to either outrun or fight anything that stresses him out- and "what he is" and "what he's capable of" is something he really doesn't like talking about even if he's happy to show or compete it.

[huntersapprentice]

okay here’s my opinions of the silly songs

like I said I would

so long story short:

tier list link

if you wanna hear me elaborate for whatever reason, I will!

I should maybe go in order of the songs from yellow green to red.

“Asteroid Cowboys” was fine but Veggies in Space is kind of an episode I already don’t revisit that much, so in tandem, I don’t actually remember this song all that well. “A Mess Down in Egypt” I barely remember for the same reason; I haven’t revisited Moe and the Big Exit since the first time I saw it. And again, I haven’t seen Merry Larry since a couple months ago, and the visuals themselves were a bit squicky to me, I’m not sure why. It’s cute in concept though! (I probably sound like a really pretentious critic right now)

OKAY, moving on to yellow! “Best Friends Forever” obviously feels very “how do you do, fellow kids“ but honestly, from an in-universe lens, I just like seeing Laura hanging out, so I don’t entirely mind it. “Happy Tooth Day” I get to hear a good bit from virtue of watching The Little House That Stood pretty frequently. I like Jimmy, Jerry, and Mr. Lunt just forming a little brass trio for the first part of the song. Madame Blueberry wacking Larry with a baseball bat was really cool too. Plus, Bob doing his little yelps and shouts is always a bonus for me. I don’t have strong feelings on “The Blues with Larry“ . Except for the poodle at the end. I like the poodle. And Lincoln destroying a cookie with a guitar was pretty neat. “S.U.V“ I also don’t have strong feelings on. The product placement was bizarre though. Not that it bothers me much though. I feel like VT will just randomly slip in a reference to a real life world thing and it’ll end up making me wonder if Big Idea ever has to pay fees or whatever people have to do to say the name of a brand or a celebrity. Or maybe they just don’t and say it anyway. I know they got into some hot water with the owners of the Lord of the Rings IP over Lord of the Beans though so... yeah, “S.U.V“ is fine. I usually skipped “The Biscuit of Zazzamarandabo“ while watching The Big River Rescue. When I did listen to it fully though; it’s pretty alright. I do like the idea of Archibald just going on a road trip with some of the other guys to go see a biscuit on top of a mountain while info-dumping about on the way. “The Song of the Cebu“ is funky and I like Archibald interjecting every few minutes just to tell Larry about much of a shit show the slideshow is becoming. Archibald saying “I’ll have to speak to Bob about this“ just makes me wonder what the fuck they did behind the scenes just to end up (unintentionally) crushing Larry’s spirit the way that they did. I think it’d make for a good angst premise. I usually skip “Obscure Broadway Showtunes“ or just don’t pay attention to it when watching Pistachio, but it sounds fine. I’m just not into it. I liked the fanged stapler at the end. “The Water Buffalo Song“ is a classic, I know. There’s just not much to revisit with this one divorced from the episode it’s from. But I do like it! Or however much was allowed to be sung before Archibald came in and chastised Larry for the song. I like how Larry holds the note.

YELLOW ORANGE TIME!!! I really like “Endangered Love” but it sucks that every time I have to remember this song, it keeps defaulting to “Barbara Manatee“ as the title. Larry watches a soap opera. He dances with a stuffed animal. Bob has a “go touch grass“ moment. Bill learns to dance! It’s a nice song. “His Cheeseburger“ isn’t one of my favorites but it’s still really good. I don’t actually have a lot to say about it, but Mr. Lunt’s just iconic. “Lance the Turtle“ is good for a thrown-together-gimmick song and (unsurprisingly) Bob is always the highlight of these things for me. “Love My Lips“ has the “it’s a lip“ William Tell Overture part and I kinda like that part. Overall, good song. I like “Monkey.“ I first heard it on youtube some months ago and it got stuck in my head a bit. Seeing Bob with a tail was kinda great. OOOH “YODELING VETERINARIAN OF THE ALPS!“ Here’s the start of my favorite Silly Songs. I loved this song so much when I heard it for the first time a couple months ago. I love the Scallions + Frankencelery quartet. “THE DANCE OF THE CUCUMBER!!!” I love this song but it actually almost made me think Bob never sang before. I ALMOST FELL FOR LARRY’S TEASING! IT WAS THE HOLLOW KNIGHT CLOTHING INCIDENT ALL OVER AGAIN!!! (for context, I had a small moment in time where I thought fabric didn’t exist in the Hollow Knight universe) Aside from that, this song fucks.

ORANGE!!!!!! Okay this might seem like a weird one because I generally don’t see people talk about Sheerluck at all, but I kinda love “Gated Community”??? I just really like the rhythm of it. Once again, Larry holds a note and I really like it when he does that. “Larry’s High Silk Hat“ is great! Honestly, I think I’m just kinda into tarantella in general. “Oh, Santa“ is really cool, but now it sorta makes me think of Larry doing a “Santa Baby“ cover. I love Scallion 1′s weird little noises and also Bob just being the way that he is. “The Hairbrush Song“ is such a delightfully hammy song to me and! I don’t think I have to state what my favorite part is in this. My SECOND favorite part though is the ending part after the Peach leaves. I love that part of the song. And finishing off the oragne row, “The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything“ is just a fun song!

RED and the only thing in red; I fucking love “Belly Button.“ I’m not immune to vegetables in a boy band. The flashy zoom-ins on the members give me so much life. Khalil’s rap bit is cool, and I always enjoy the line-toeing of whether we should be considering these produce characters as plant or animal.

If you actually read this all the way through; Congratulations and I’m so sorry! And I know there’s a lot of songs I haven’t listened to and my defense is that I’ve only seen like a fourth of the VT catalogue.

It’s like 11:30PM where I am so... good night everybody!

[watchmegetobsessed]

Locked up Christmas - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

happy holidays everyone!! this is the first one of my two christmas fics, the second one coming tomorrow, giving you well enough content to keep you busy when you’re not stuffing your belly or enjoying your time with the fam haha. let me know what you think!

word count: 5k

masterlist

Fishing your keys out of your purse you curse a little as your eyes fall on the big double doors. This is not how you planned to spend your Christmas evening, but you are desperate to earn that promotion in January so now you have to make sacrifices, such as leaving your family home, come into the office and smooth out some things your boss emailed you about a few hours prior.

“Who the fuck is working on Christmas?” you mumble to yourself as you try to find the right keys on the chain. The woman is completely nuts, you’re not even sure how she was able to score a husband because the woman lives in the office.

“Think about the money, Y/N,” you tell yourself. It just gonna be a solid two hours in here, you’ll be out of the building by nine and make it back home to watch Home Alone with your nieces. They begged you to stay and your heart was breaking when you had to leave instead of playing board games with them, so now you are desperate to get it done as fast as possible.

Unlocking the double doors you walk through every damn morning, you walk inside and lock them back up behind you, not wanting any creeps to scare the shit out of you, entering the building while you are in here.

You are so busy cursing your boss out that you almost don’t even notice the lights on upstairs in one of the offices, but when you do, you stop in your track, knowing well whose office it is. Taking a few steps closer you see the tall guy walking around, searching through his shelves with his hands on his hips.

Harry Styles has been working two offices down from yours this past year and you’ve had the fattest crush on the dude ever since he smiled at you on his first day, introducing himself. From his magical green eyes, through his several tattoos he tries to hide under his shirts, to his luscious curls, the guy is a walking, talking perfectness, making you turn into a stuttering teenage girl every time he even looks in your way, let alone when he comes up to you to talk about anything.

Standing in the open area of the cubbies, you debate whether you should say hi or go straight to your office, and though your nerves would appreciate the second option, you know it would be rude to just ignore his presence when it is literally just the two of you. So shoving your keys into your bag you head towards his open door, hoping you won’t make a fool out of yourself.

Just as you are approaching the entrance of his office, his eyes fall on you and you can’t just not notice how adorable he looks as he raises his eyebrows at your arrival.

“Y/N? What are you doing here on Christmas?” he questions, a stack of paper in his hands as he stares at you, a slight smile playing on his pink lips you’ve daydreamed about way too many times at work. You notice how he is wearing a simple white t-shirt, a brown, knitted cardigan and jeans, something you have never seen him in, he is always wearing stylish suits and crispy looking shirts, making sure his appearance is spotless. But you kind of digging this loose, casual version of him.

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckle tilting your head to the side. “I uhh—Samantha emailed me about one of my cases, so I have a few things to go over.”

“But couldn’t it wait?”

“I’m really hoping to get the promotion in January, so it couldn’t.” Harry nods in understanding as he glances down at the papers in his hands. “What about you?”

“Oh, I came in this afternoon, but I kind of got stuck, so now I think I’ll just finish it anyway.”

“You’ve been here all afternoon? Didn’t you want to spend the day with your family?”

“Well, my family lives in the UK. My mum got a cruise from her boyfriend so she is on the Caribbean sea right now and my sister is working through the holidays as well, so we agreed to have Christmas a little later this year.”

“Oh, I see,” you softly say, feeling a little bad for the guy to be stuck here at Christmas even though you know he is gonna see his family, just a little later. “Alright. I’ll just—I’ll be in my office then,” you mumble motioning down the hallway and he nods with a soft smile.

“Sure, sure!”

You jump right into work, eager to finish as soon as possible, and for your biggest surprise, you find yourself breezing through the case faster than you expected. Maybe it’s the emptiness of the whole building, the complete silence or just the will to leave finally, but you manage to finish everything before half past eight, putting you half an hour earlier than you expected to be done. You quickly pack everything up and shut your computer down before grabbing your coat and bag to head out. Just as you step out of your office, Harry emerges from his, wearing his black coat and a backpack hanging from his shoulder. Your eyes meet and he chuckles softly, waiting for you to catch up with him so you can head down together.

“Finished everything?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. How about you?”

“I think I’m like two weeks ahead now, but at least I’ll have a breather after the holidays.” He politely lets you ahead as you step out of the office area, into the stairwell, the two of you walking down the stairs shoulder by shoulder. “Heading back to the family?”

“Yeah, promised my nieces to watch Home Alone with them.”

“Classic.”

“Uhuh, very fascinated when you’ve seen it a thousand times, but it’s their first time,” you chuckle shaking your head.

“I feel like everyone is complaining about seeing it so many times, but deep down, we all know we’ll keep watching it till the end of times,” Harry smirks and you nod in agreement.

You step to the exit and push your keys into the lock, trying to turn it, but it doesn’t want to move, just stays stuck in it. Wiggling it a little you start to feel nervous, thinking how Harry will see you as a complete idiot who can’t even open a damn door, but no matter what you try, the key stays stuck.

“I uhh—It’s not opening?” you anxiously say, glancing over at Harry. Furrowing his eyebrows he asks if he could try, so you step aside and let him make an attempt to unlock the door.

However, the key stubbornly stays the same, as if it was cemented into the lock. His grip tightens around the metal, his other hand holding onto the handle of the door, shaking it in hopes it’ll magically open up, but that’s not the case at all.

And then you hear the snap. Your eyes widen when you see that the top part of the key stays on the chain and Harry holds it up just as shocked as you are, the other part still in the lock, broken and totally ruined.

“Please say we didn’t just lock ourselves in and broke the key into the lock on Christmas,” you mumble, shutting your eyes, hoping that when you open them it’ll all just go away and Harry will be holding the door open for you. But then your eyelids flutter open and your gaze is met with Harry’s anxious eyes.

“I uhh—I wish I could say that we didn’t, but we did.”

Letting your head fall back for a moment you take a deep breath, contemplating what you did that made the universe turn against you, but you don’t remember killing babies to earn this, so you are left with your boiling rage.

After a moment of mess you realize it’s time to pull your shit together and figure out the fastest possible to get out of this building as fast as possible.

“Alright, we-we need to call someone,” you breathe out, pulling your phone out of your pocket, trying to figure out who you should be calling in this very specific situation.

“Should we call Samantha?” Harry asks, still holding your keys in his hands.

“It’s not that we need another key, she wouldn’t be able to get us out. We need a professional, right?”

“Yeah, good idea.” Harry is quick to pull his phone out as well, opening up Google to find a locksmith that could free the two of you.

A few minutes later the both of you are frantically calling numbers of businesses you found online, but most doesn’t even answer and though you know it’s reasonable, since it’s Christmas, but you’re mad that with each passing moment the feeling that you’ll be stuck in here all night grows. The two of you are pacing around in the hall as all calls go to voicemail or just simply stay ignored, making you desperate.

When you are about to give up to find just one locksmith in the area who could help you out, the ringing finally stops and a voice answers your call. The old man doesn’t seem delighted to be disturbed at such time, but as you describe the situation on your hand, he quickly realizes his help is much needed.

“Now, Miss, I have some bad news,” he tells you and you feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“And what would that be?”

“The soonest I can get there is around midnight. I’m out of town, but I could leave right now.”

Closing your eyes you inhale sharply. It’s not that bad, you tell yourself. At least he can come, that’s all that matters.

“Alright. It’s fine, we really need you, Sir. And again, I’m really sorry to bother you on Christmas.”

“I’ll pack up and leave now. Will contact you when I’m there,” the man tells you before you hang up and meet Harry’s anticipating eyes.

“He is coming, but he’ll get here around midnight,” you tell him and he immediately checks the time on his phone.

“So… we are stuck here for three more hours?” You nod, pressing your lips together. “Alright,” he sighs, hands on his hips. “Could be worse, right?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you nod, trying your best to see the best side of the situation. You might be missing Christmas with your family, but you are stuck with your work crush for three entire hours, so yes, it definitely could be worse.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, nodding to himself as if he is acknowledging the situation, and the turning to you, he smiles softly.

“There are some leftovers from the Christmas party on Wednesday. You hungry?”

Soon enough the two of you are seated in the kitchen, roaming through everything Harry found in the fridges, from saggy fries to fried chickens and veggies, you are sure you won’t starve to death until the locksmith arrives to rescue you.

At first, you both are just eating in silence, kind of still processing that this is how you have to spend the evening. Harry reaches over to get some more peas onto his plate and his cardigan rides up on his arm, your eyes falling to the several tattoos and before you could stop yourself, you speak up.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

His eyes flicker to you, then follow your gaze on his arm and he smiles softly. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck for a moment, his smile is so enchanting. He has to know the effect he has on females for sure.

“A lot. Don’t even remember the exact number if I’m being honest.”

“Really? Can I ask where else you have? I mean other than your arm.”

“Well, I have the most on this arm, then just one on the other. Some on my chest, my upper stomach, above my hips and a couple on my feet and leg,” he explains and your eyebrows raise at the amount. You figured he had quite a few, but it really sounds like a lot. You push down the urge to ask if you could see them, though your imagination is soaring right now, thinking about all the different inks splattered across his body.

“All planned or were some impulsive?”

“Most of them were random,” he chuckles shaking his head. “Do you have any?”

“I do,” you shyly smile, glancing down at the plate. “I have… well, I have one, but it consists of three parts.”

“Oh!” he breathes out and waits for you to elaborate.

“I have the sun, the moon and a few little stars on my back along my spine. It’s not big either, so you won in the tattoo game,” you chuckle.

“But I’m sure yours is way more sophisticated and planned out.”

“That I’m sure of,” you nod laughing and he joins you. “Would have never though you have so many under your suits,” you admit and his eyes jump up to you, a playful smirk tugging on his lips.

“Well, I didn’t think you had any under your pretty dresses, if I’m being honest.”

Now you are sure you are blushing hard, something in the way he said it making your hormones act up in a blink of an eye. Has he been thinking about what’s under your dress or did he just phrase it weirdly?

“What else is there you think is unlike me?” you find yourself asking and though Harry seems slightly surprised by the question, he leans back in his chair, looking at your intently, as if he is trying to read you like a book.

“I think that… the way you dress at work is far away from your real style,” he states, eyes glaring down at your current outfit that doesn’t give a lot away about your style. You were already in your pj’s when you decided to come into the office, so you just threw on a black t-shirt and a pair of boyfriend jeans. You can’t hide the smile that curls up your lips at his statement. “Am I right?”

“I guess you are.”

“So what are you like when you are not wearing your colorful blazers?”

You choose not to comment on how he noticed that you have a collection of blazers in basically all existing colors, so you always have something to put on with your dresses and pencil skirts at work.

“What do you think my style is like?” you challenge him tilting your head to the side. Pursing his lips he takes a few moments to think over his answer.

“I think it’s a lot of vintage jeans and shirts, oversized jumpers, tiny hoop earrings… maybe some turtlenecks, but the funky types, nothing serious. You seem like the type of person who likes to be cozy but also fashionable.”

“That was very specific,” you chuckle softly, but you are also impressed by how spot on his description was.

“Was I right?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But add some loose maxi dresses. I love them too, especially with sneakers.”

“Fits the picture perfectly,” he smirks as you both continue your feast.

You have never been alone with Harry for this long and you feel like you cracked the code to stop feeling nervous around him. Yes, you are still quite anxious about doing or saying something stupid, but the more you talk, the easier you find it to be around him. He is great company, an amazing listener and an even better story teller. Once you start sharing tales about your childhood and teenage years, Harry opens up about what it was like growing up back in the UK and he tells you all about the little pranks he and his mates did through high school.

“You had such a baby face!” you beam when he shows you a picture of himself when he was just fifteen. He is definitely recognizable, but he was lacking that hint of manliness back then, a rounder face and smoother lines made him appear very youthful, while now he is definitely a charming, mature man.

“I know, worked hard to lose that,” he chuckles leaning onto his arms on the table. “Alright, now you have to show me one too,” he says locking his phone once you give it back to him. Chuckling you unlock your own phone, looking for a photo you could show him, though you don’t have many to choose from.

“This one was taken on my sixteenth birthday,” you comment sliding the phone over to him, a picture of you shown on the screen from your birthday where you are sitting on the couch, hugging the puppy your parents surprised you with as a gift. Back then you had longer hair and a bare face, free of any makeup since you didn’t start wearing any until you were eighteen. You had a few pimples and spots on your forehead, but overall it’s not a disastrous photo.

Harry takes his time examining the photo and you see his smile grow wider with each passing moment.

“What?” you question him.

“Nothing, it’s just that… If we knew each other back then I just know I would have crushed on you hard.”

Your lips part at his blunt answer, you were definitely not expecting him to say that and it’s making you feel some kind of way for sure.

The two of you pack up everything left from the food, cleaning up after yourselves and as Harry washes the plates you two used, you check the time, seeing that it’s only quarter to eleven, leaving plenty of time still until the locksmith arrives.

“It’s so damn quiet in here, I’m not used to hear… nothing,” you tell him as you follow him out of the kitchen. Harry turns to you with a sly smirk.

“Wanna have a private party? I know for a fact Jim has a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in his office.”

“I’m absolutely in,” you grin as the two of you head towards the corner office.

Harry was right, the Bluetooth speaker sits lonely on Jim’s desk and you don’t hesitate to borrow it for your entertainment in this absurd situation. He connects his phone and sets it down on a random desk outside where the cubbies are.

“Alright, what’s your song request?” he asks opening up Spotify.

“Guess what kind of music I listen to,” you challenge him arching an eyebrow and as his eyes meet yours, he smirks back confidently before he turns his attention back at the phone in his hand. You watch him scroll for a while before his finger stops on a song and after a moment of hesitation he taps on it at last.

“Don’t come at me if you don’t like it,” he warns as the song starts playing through the speaker and you immediately recognize it. I Feel It Coming by The Weeknd and Daft Punk flows through the empty office area and you can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips. “Did I do good? You like it?” he asks with bright eyes.

“You did. I do like The Weeknd and it’s a fun song,” you nod and Harry throws a fist into the air in victory.

“Yes! Alright, you guess next,” he tells you handing you the phone and you need a moment to think about what he might like. A specific song pops into your mind and though you know you’re taking a risk with choosing it, but something is telling you he is the kind of guy who appreciates this kind of music. You patiently wait for your song to end before starting the one you chose for him.

You intently watch his reaction as Juice by Lizzo starts playing through the speaker and the moment you see the corners of his mouth curl up, you know you guessed right.

“It’s one of my guilty pleasures,” he admits, his head immediately bopping to the rhythm.

“No need to call it guilty pleasure. It’s a great song,” you tell him handing back his phone and with each passing moment his body gets into the rhythm more and more until he is full on dancing.

You let out a laugh, watching him sway and move around, enjoying the song and you can’t stop yourself from joining him. Jumping around, the two of you make the whole place your dance floor, moving around between the desks and cubbies, letting loose as the song fills the whole place.

“It ain’t my fault!” you hear Harry sing from across the room and you can’t hold back your laugh. Seeing how funny you find it, he makes his way towards you, swirling and moving his hops around. He is not a bad dancer, in fact, he is perfectly on beat with his movements, but he is definitely not a professional, though you find it quite adorable, while the way he doesn’t care to dance carefree is making him incredibly hot.

He dances around you, relentlessly singing the lyrics that he seems to know by heart. It’s quite the sight to see him like this, so unlike but still… very much like him. This version is even more attractive and you wish you could see him like this more often.

One song follows the other and the two of you absolutely let loose, putting on the show of your life, forgetting about everything else, it’s just the music, Harry and you. He shows you his favorite songs and you do the same, feeling a special connection through the process, because in a way, he is baring his true self to you through the music that’s closest to his heart and you are happy to be the person to see him like this.

“What’s a song that turns you into a rockstar?” Harry asks, panting a little from all the dancing you two have been doing in the past hour. You stop in motion thinking about what he just asked.

“A rockstar?”

“Yeah, you know, one that makes you sing and dance and perform like you are in the middle of your sold-out show at Wembley.”

You love his specific descriptions of feelings. Smiling to yourself you don’t have to think long about what song it is for you. After searching it you add to the queue and put the phone down to the nearest desk as you turn to Harry.

The starting beats of Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus start playing and you immediately feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You’re ready to completely change right in front of his eyes. Grabbing a chair you push him down to sit as you walk away from him, snatching an abandoned bottle of water from one of the desks, using it as your microphone before starting your performance. Hooking a finger into the elastic in your hair you pull it out and let your hair fall to your shoulders as you start singing along the song, sending him a seductive look over your shoulder.

“Hello, the sunny place for shady people, a crowded room where nobody goes…”

You know every line by heart and the fact that you’ve been listening to it on repeat the past few weeks just helps your case. You are able to put on quite the show for Harry.

Dancing around the desks, even hopping on one and lying down as you sing into your pretend microphone, you truly make yourself believe there are thousands of people watching your performance.

“I’ve been California dreaming, plastic hearts are bleeding!” you shout the chorus, completely letting loose, dancing towards Harry who is watching you in awe, lips parted, eyes bright as they follow your every move. “Keep me up all night! Keep me up all night!”

Right in front of Harry, you drop to your knees, whipping your head around, your hair flying with it before you straighten up and look straight into his eyes. Hunger fills his eyes, raw passion and you see how his knuckles are turning white as he is gripping the sides of the chair he is sitting in. You can’t push down the satisfied smirk that tugs on your lips.

He stays put as you live out your wildest rockstar dreams, turning the whole office into your stage. With a heaving chest and heavy pants, the song ends and nothing follows. Turning to face Harry you see that he turned the music off so no other song started after your performance. Now he is standing, eyes burning down on you and the tension is thicker than ever.

It’s about to happen, you feel it. He wants you just as much as you want him. Is he gonna act up about it? Will he finally break what’s been building up between the two of you?

All your questions get answered as soon as you see him leap towards you, your body starts moving at the same time and just when you are about to meet in the middle in the hottest kiss you’ve ever gotten, you jump back hearing your phone’s ringtone on a desk near you.

“Fucking—“ you hear him mumble under his breath as you rush over, seeing that the locksmith is calling.

“Hi!” you pant into the phone and immediately realize how ambiguous you must have sounded.

“Miss? I think I’m here. Can you come to the door in question?” you hear the man.

“Yeah! We’ll be down in a sec! It’s the front door.”

Ending the call you turn to see Harry standing behind you, his green eyes burning a hole into your head and you can tell he shares the same thoughts as you and though you’d love nothing more than to continue what was about to start, but you can’t make the locksmith wait.

“Come on, we are getting rescued,” you chuckle grabbing your stuff and Harry follows you downstairs.

The old man is standing with a bag of tools at the entrance, he sends you a small smile when he notices you.

“This one right here?” he asks through the glass and you nod. Harry stands beside you as the two of you watch him get down to work. Though the tension is still there, you can feel it radiating from the both of you, you still manage to hold yourself back.

It doesn’t take long for the man to get rid of the ruined lock and the door finally opens up, letting you and Harry out of your prison. He quickly fixes up a new one and gives you the keys. You already know Samantha won’t be happy about having to copy a new set of keys for everyone, but there was not much you could do.

You obviously pay a fortune for the guy for everything he did tonight, he surely was a hero. It’s way past midnight by the time you say goodbye to the man and watch him drive away, leaving you and Harry standing in the parking lot.

The sexual aspect of the tension between the two of you has definitely fallen back, but something is still there and you really don’t want to ignore what was about to happen before the locksmith called. Luckily, it seems like Harry thinks the exact same thing.

He runs two fingers over his lips, clearly trying to come up with something to say, and then he finally speaks up.

“Listen, about what happened in there—“

“Want to come over to mine?” you blurt out before you could stop yourself, clearly surprising him. Then you feel a wave of awkwardness about how blunt that was, so the urge to fix it a little takes over. “I-I mean you could come over to my place for the night if you want, and since you-you don’t have family here now, you could just come to my family tomorrow for lunch, it’s always so much fun, we play board games and stuff. B-But I get it if you don’t want to.”

Harry smiles widely at you, finding your word vomiting quite amusing and cute if he is being honest.

“You sure I wouldn’t disturb if I joined for lunch?”

“Of course not,” you smile warmly. You already know your nieces would be all over Harry if he came, wouldn’t even let him alone for a second for sure.

“Then… I would love to go. And… to your place as well,” he adds, a soft blush appearing on his cheeks.

“Okay, then follow me?” you chuckle nodding towards your and his car parking near to the other.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling wide as you both head to your own cars. You have to bite into your bottom lip to stop the excited squeal when you unlock the doors. Right as you are about to open up the door on the driver’s side, someone grips your wrist and turns you back around. You gasp a little, but immediately melt into Harry’s arms when his lips press to yours, holding you tight in his embrace.

His lips taste like French salad dressing and mint after the feast you had earlier and the gum he chewed on afterwards. They fit so perfectly with yours, moving in sync as you let your hands wander over his upper arms and broad shoulders until they come to a halt at the base of his neck. He is such an amazing kisser and you just know that whatever happens between you and him after this, you’ll surely have a hard time looking at him at work and not think about how he tastes on your lips.

When he pulls away, he pecks your lips one more time before his arms fall from around you.

“Sorry,” he smiles nervously, even though he has no reason to be. “I just… had to do it before we leave.”

“Glad you did,” you smirk and kiss his soft lips one last time before sending him away to his own car. He shoots you one last charming smile before you both get into your cars and head straight to your place.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought about it! 

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

[finalvortex]

Yeah, the more I think about it, the simplest explanation is that the temples, the prophecy, the gems even... they're not for our girls.

Like, I think there was an expectation that the world of Amphibia would be tailored to meet what they needed, because that's how portal fantasies work, right? You get whisked away to a magical place, go on a mystical quest, learn some things about yourself and become a better person along the way? Right?

Amphibia has never really worked like that. Amphibia's just... a place. A place that's, like... real. It's got people and history and politics and systems that don't, like, directly matter to the way the girls interact with it. It's less like the girls were dropped into the world of Narnia or Wonderland or The Wizard of Oz, and more like they landed in the middle of Lord of the Rings or Eragon or... Oz but the books. Or, honestly, it's not too much to take out the fantastical elements entirely and compare it more to medieval Europe.

And I mean, obviously Amphibia's a story. It's not real. The world exists for the sake of the narrative. But it never acts like it, both on the larger scale and the small.

I could pick out nearly any season 1 episode (I did the same analysis on Lily Pad Thai before) but let's take... Domino Effect. It's a classic sitcom setup, right? A kid attempts to take in a pet, their guardian obviously wouldn't let them, there's a bunch of wacky shenanigans where they have to hide the pet, but it turns out that they don't really know what they're doing and they can't care for the animal properly so they have to release it back into the wild. You've seen that one before.

Except... in this episode Anne is a really good pet owner. She does everything right when it comes to taking care of Domino II, it's just that, well, she's a wild carnivore and you can't keep one of those in your house.

So many episodes in season 1 function like this, where they give you a very standard sitcom setup and then just... don't quite follow through on what you'd expect from it. Hop Pop never finds out that Anne and Sprig snuck out in Best Fronds, or that Anne took Bessie on a joyride in Anne Theft Auto. Contagi-Anne ends with Anne admitting that she faked being sick to get out of work and the Plantars... not really caring. In Lily Pad Thai Anne makes an impulsive and reckless bet in the heat of the moment and... wins. No moral.

And Amphibia works like that on the grander scale, too. We've talked about how Marcy relates to the world through the lens of fiction she's consumed, and the role that ultimately played in her downfall. Because, after all, the travelers in these stories are the heroes, and the heroes don't get hurt. They certainly don't die. That's not how stories work.

But Amphibia doesn't work on that logic. It never has. Which is also why the temples feel off to us... because they're not designed to cater to a narrative. There are probably reasons they were built the way they were, in universe - it seems like each one may have had a different designer - but they're not there to address the girls' issues, or to teach them specifically a lesson.

[capricorn-stark]

Othello Pt 2

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am again, kinda long, swearing

a/n: i mention Dana Harlowe and Annie B’s diner, they’re both from RHATO’s final two issues lol. still dedicated to @tadpole-san even though she hate crimed me 

part 1

“I thought you said you wanted to get coffee,” you started when you noticed Jason veering away from where your regular coffee shop should’ve been, choosing to cut through the street and venture to a different path entirely. “Because you just-”

“Yeah, I know, I’m hungry,” he declared, slipping his hands into his pockets and tilting his head towards another row of stores illuminated with neon-lights and flickering street lamps. “This place has better stuff than overpriced coffee, promise.” You let out an exaggerated gasp of shock at that notion and he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. 

It was always strange to be walking around Gotham during the night, but with Jason by your side, it was far less worrying than it usually was. On your own, you couldn’t even imagine traveling around the dark streets littered with muggers, petty thieves, and the occasional evil clown prince or two - one minute, you’d be speed-walking down the streets, the next minute you could end up as the lucky winner of Scarecrow’s fear-gas testing special.

You actually knew someone who had been in that very situation. They were in Arkham now.

With Jason, it was almost ridiculous how much safer you felt. It didn’t take a whole lot of observational skills to notice how the men who usually leered at you and your friends when you passed shrank and slipped into the shadows when a man over 6 feet in height and built like a tank walked past them. Jason himself was in a good mood tonight, his shoulders relaxed and a slight smile playing at his lips while he told you about the local theatrical-adaptation of Othello that was currently under production near Gotham University. 

You were getting used to seeing him like this - not so moody, smiling, present - but you had also noticed the expressions he had when no one was looking, when he wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, when his gaze had a certain intensity to them that you hadn’t ever quite seen before. He didn’t really like talking about himself or his life, preferring to keep conversations centered around school or you. The few times you had tried asking about his family and work had all led to him clamming up and quickly dropping the subject, his body language rigid and completely closed-off, the crease by his brows deepening as his expression transformed into a scowl. It was the first time you realized that Jason Todd could actually be genuinely scary - and the first time you realized there was a much, much darker side of him that you weren’t sure if you wanted to see.

You knew it wasn’t your place to pry, and you had never brought it up since - but you couldn’t help but wonder just what had happened to make someone like him so angry. 

“...and I figured we could - did you just zone out on me?”

You snapped back into attention at his rather dramatic tone, flinching out of your character analysis to pay actual mind to the man in question himself. 

“No, I just-” 

“Yeah? What did I just say?” Jason challenged, grasping your arm to pull you away from the traffic lane you had nearly walked right into. His disbelieving expression made your face burn red - but much to your relief (and embarrassment), he was laughing. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t completely zoned out-” 

“After you literally walked into traffic? Yeah, I can tell,” he deadpanned, tugging you towards him right as the cars slowed to a halt, the pedestrian signal blinking above you. The sudden action and the sudden closeness made your face heat up - something he apparently noticed when his bright green eyes flickered across your features and caused a smirk to tug at his lips. Instead of the teasing you had braced yourself for, you watched as he tilted his head towards the diner across the street, letting go of your arm. “It’s right over there, c’mon.” 

He was already moving towards the crosswalk when you shook yourself out of your stupor, quickly moving to catch up with him and glancing up at the diner. The big glowing red letters on the sign beside it read “Annie B’s”. 

“They got good food,” he explained at your questioning look, leaning forwards to swing the door open for you. “I used to hang around here a lot when I was a kid.” 

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen this place before,” you commented, entering and hearing Jason close the door behind him, taking a quick glance around before you took a seat in one of the cherry-red and white leather booths. “Kinda wish I had.”

The entire diner had a vintage touch to it, from the luminescent pink and blue lights lining the ceilings to the multicolored tile floors, the cherry-red barstools, and even the jukebox in the corner cranking out old-timey tunes. There were only a few other people sitting at the bar and chilling in a booth a few down from your own, all too absorbed in their own worlds to pay much mind to the two of you. You could hear the sizzling of the food being made back in the kitchen, emitting a heavenly aroma that made your stomach growl not-so subtly. Jason laughed as he slid down across from you, sliding one delicate paper menu over as he scanned over the other. 

“Pretty cool, huh? And like I said, they got great food.” He nodded at your stomach and you rolled your eyes, eliciting another laugh from him. “Knock yourself out, ‘cus dinner’s on me.” Before you could open your mouth to object, the kitchen doors flew open and a woman stepped out holding a heaping tray of food. 

“One chicken fried steak with a side of mashed potatoes and rings,” she announced as she set down the trays in front of a man sitting a few booths down, already moving to refill his glass with a pitcher of water. “Enjoy your dinner, Phil.” 

“Thanks, Dana,” the man told her as he picked up his fork and gave her a crooked-toothed grin, already digging into his food. “Always do.” 

“I sure hope so,” the lady agreed, moving to walk back towards the kitchen before catching sight of them. She broke into a grin at the sight of Jason sending her a playful salute, changing course to head towards their booth instead. “Well, look who it is!” she exclaimed, securing her curly black hair out of her face with an orange-and-green bandana as she stopped in front of them. “Jason Todd decided to drop by for a little visit, did he? And he brought a friend.” 

The sight of her beaming at you was too contagious for you to not smile back up at her in return.

“Hi, Dana,” Jason grinned, nodding at you as she looked between the two of you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Dana Harlowe. Her dad runs this place.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Dana told you with another grin, leaning forwards to shake your hand in greeting. “When I decided to help out at the diner tonight, I wasn’t expecting a miracle. I definitely didn’t think this boy would ever walk in here with a date of all things-”

“Oh as if,” Jason scoffed loudly as the two of you laughed, face reddening beneath the bright colored lights. “Have you seen me? I was born a lady-killer.” He shot you a wink and you sent him another playful eye roll.

“Yeah, you sure killed me alright.” Dana burst out laughing again as Jason immediately let out a protest of betrayal at your words.

“I like you,” she decided when she finally managed to straighten, taking out her notepad and pen with another brilliant smile. “Did y’all decide what you wanted yet, or do you need another minute?” Jason glanced over at you and you nodded back up at her.

“Sure, I’m ready.” 

Dana headed back into the kitchen for your food after you ordered, leaving the two of you to sit in a comfortable, familiar silence, the sound of forks scraping against porcelain plates and vintage beats being the only disruptors. 

“I used to hear these songs on Gotham City Radio all the time,” Jason finally began after taking a sip of his water, fixating his gaze back on you as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the leather seat. “Growing up, I mean. I still do, sometimes.” 

“Classic jazz?” You grinned, taking a small sip of your own water in turn. “You? I didn’t get that vibe from you.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug.

“At my old place, I had, uh, a butler. He wasn’t really a butler, honestly, he was more like a dad than anything. Or, like, a really cool grandpa. He had a whole rack of guns and shit he kept polished in this big cabinet thing-” You raised a brow, attempting to hide your amusement by taking another sip of water. You were a little surprised that he had actually started talking about his family at all - you weren’t about to ruin it, and boy, did you want to know more about the guy. “And he used to play that station all the time at home, GC Radio Classics. I guess I kinda missed hearing it.” 

“He does sound pretty cool,” you admitted with a smile, setting the glass back down. “Do you still visit him?” Jason hesitated a few moments before attempting a nonchalant shrug. You noticed the tightness in his body language again, the same sort of tightness you saw when he was closing up around you. 

“Not much anymore,” he finally said, letting his shoulders drop a little bit. “It’s been...a while. Just got some shit going on.” You watched him take another drink before you spoke again.

“If you ever want to talk about it with me - or talk about anything, really - you can, Jason.” It wasn’t just the products of your psych major showing through you - you meant your words, and the slight smile playing at his lips seemed to signal that he had understood that as well. 

“Don’t worry about it, seriously. But thanks.” You nodded, looking up again when the kitchen doors flew open once again, Dana heading out towards your table with another two trays heaped with mouth-watering food. 

“And here you go,” she smiled as she set your respective meals down before you, taking your glasses to refill them as well. “Enjoy your food, you two. Call me over if there’s anything else you need, yeah?” You both thanked Dana as she sashayed away again, letting the doors swing shut behind her once again after checking up on the rest of her customers. 

Neither of you wasted any time digging into the food as soon as it appeared, finishing most of it in mere minutes like the starving university students you were, breaking the silence with the occasional offer at trying something the other had gotten. The aroma had been no false-alarm - it tasted even better than you had anticipated, and that was certainly saying something. Savory fries, buttery biscuits, and smoky burgers were better than anything else you had in a while. 

“How did I not find this place sooner?” you sighed as you pressed a napkin to your lips, leaning back against your seat as you tried to process just how full you really felt. At this rate, you would have to roll your way out of the place. “I know you said it was gonna be good, but I didn’t expect it to be this good.”

“I told you,” Jason grinned as he finished up the last of his burger and fries, crumpling up his own napkins and setting them into the tray to throw away. “I know good food places! I grew up around these streets.”

“So did I!” you protested as he laughed and stood up to throw all the trash away, setting the trays back where they were supposed to go and pulling out his wallet just as Dana appeared by the kitchen’s window with two milkshakes. 

“You can count these on the house,” she told him as she slid them over, ignoring his protests and sending you a wink as you stood up from the booth as well. “Enjoy your night - and it was real nice meeting you, Y/N. Todd, I better be seeing you around more often.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he deadpanned, his smile warm as she waved them out anyways. “Thanks, Dana.” 

You called out a thanks to her as well, tightening your jacket around you as you left the warmth of the diner and felt the chill of Gotham’s dreary night hit you once more. Jason handed you your milkshake, bringing his own straw to his lips and taking a sip. 

“You guys seem close,” you noted with a smile as you took a sip yourself, relishing the cold, sweet taste of the shake in delight. Jason chuckled at that, shrugging as you walked along the illuminated sidewalks in no particular direction. 

“She’s like an annoying sister to me. I’ve known her since I was a puny kid.” You watched as the corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile as he took another sip. “Dana, her sister, and her dad were good to me growing up. They’re great people.”

That, you had been able to tell just from meeting the woman herself. 

“I liked meeting her. She was pretty cool.” He chuckled again and spared you another glance. “And thanks, by the way, for dinner tonight. It really was really good. And way better than just coffee.”

“I told you,” he grinned, flickering those brilliant green eyes across your face again. “I know where the good spots around Gotham are. We don’t have a lot of them, but when we do have them, they’re pretty damn good.” That elicited a laugh from you and Jason stopped beneath one of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk. 

“You did better than I expected, Todd.” He made a big show of popping his collar and scoffing at your comment.

“What, you expected me to not impress you? Do you think that low of me?” 

“That theatre minor of yours is really starting to make an entrance, you can put it away now-” 

“Hey!” You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join. You felt pretty sure that he looked the happiest right then and there than you had ever really seen him - whatever that might’ve meant. Pretty soon, your laughter was residing and he had taken a slight step forwards, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You looked back up at him with a nonchalant shrug despite fighting back another smile yourself. 

“Yeah, it was a pretty good night.” His gaze flickered towards your lips before settling back on your face. 

“Yeah?” The sounds of honking cars and the murmurs of people walking past all around you felt like they were being drowned out somehow when you felt him get a little bit closer. The smile tugged at the corner of your mouth again.

“Yeah.” Another moment passed before Jason finally closed the distance between you, meeting your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss for a man who looked like he could snap a baseball bat with his bare hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck after yet another moment, feeling him draw you even closer to him at the action. 

Literally and figuratively, it was a sweet kiss. The milkshake truly had done wonders. 

You were a little breathless when he finally pulled away, and you hoped the shitty streetlight would keep him from seeing just how red your face had gone. Jason was grinning at your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck.

“C’mon, that was better than pretty good.”

“Shut up,” you told him immediately, swatting his arm and moving to continue your walk again as he laughed and easily moved to catch up to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“It was! You gotta admit it, that was pretty great-”

“Shut up, Jason.” 

Just like that, once again, you had Othello of all things to thank for your night. Maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been such a terrible book after all. 

[lovelyspencerreid]

made from the same star

here’s another little something I wrote at 2am in my feels. If you wanna know the vibe I was going for, play the song “Tomorrow’s Song” by Olafur Arnalds. Literally listened to that on repeat for this. Anyways, still wondering when I’m gonna have something like this in my life but whatever, I hope you all enjoy :) (also I change tenses alot????)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

1.2k words

Summary: spencer and his love sit on the kitchen floor having a soft conversation in the middle of the night.

He spins you around the kitchen to the delicate classical music escaping the worn music player in the corner of the room. Warmth radiates off your flushed faces, nothing more intimate than spending the evening swaying in each other’s arms. The twinkling lights adorning the kitchen reflect in your lover’s eyes, making them seem as infinite as the universe. You feel at peace as he delicately slides his hand to the side of your face and you lean into his touch. The only word you are able to find to describe the moment is ethereal; you feel as though you are in the presence of the universe itself.

You never did believe in the idea of true love, of finding your person, your soulmate, your everything – but standing here before you, here he was. Even more perfect than your younger self may have ever imagined.

He pulls you into his embrace and you bask in the feeling of love – of loving and being loved. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you pull his face down to meet yours. You both smile into the kiss, a gentle kiss you hardly feel, softer than the pure snowing falling outside the kitchen window.

Sliding down against the cabinets, you end up in his lap, never once breaking the kiss - holding on as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Placing your forehead delicately against his own, you can’t help but release a sigh of pure relief.

You shift in his lap as to be able to look up at the skylight. The stars and the universe don’t compare to him -- the beautiful soul that your body rests on. Placing a soft kiss against his cheek, he returns the gesture by looking at you the way the moon looks at the stars.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’re soulmates?”

After a moment of thinking, he puts his finger up to his lips.

“Theoretically speaking, it is presumed that your chances of finding your soul mate is only 1 in 10,000 or about .010%. But nothing about this is mathematical… it’s not something you can justify with a quantifiable ans–”

“I think so. I think we’re made from the same star,” you quickly respond before his rambles continue.

You position your head underneath his chin and nuzzle in and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He chuckles, the genius in him urging to tell you that scientifically, that isn’t possible… but he resists. For once, he doesn’t need logic, he doesn’t think with his brain – he feels with his heart.

“You think so?” he asks.

“Mhm, I think we’re meant to find each other in every lifetime because our little star particles try to find their counterparts. They traveled so far to get here, they have to be together.”

“I don’t want another lifetime, I just want to stay in this one with you.”

You pause, mulling over his words, while rubbing your thumb gently over his hand.

“...Spence?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Will you let me go first?”

“What on earth do you mean?” he questions, concern lacing his voice.

“I mean, when it’s our time, I don't want you to go first. I want to be selfish and leave first, I can’t bear to witness the lack of your existence. What ever will my star particles do?”

“I’m not going anywhere for a long time,” he responds surely.

“Promise me?”

“I promise.”

He pulls you in closer, even more so than you thought possible, caressing your every feature. You feel a warm droplet land on your face, looking up to see tears streaking his cheeks.

“Oh, Spence I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, no it’s not that. I just love you so much. You and your star particles.”

“Hm. I love you and your star particles too.”

You intertwined your hands and pulled his to your mouth, your lips delicately leaving small kisses on each of his knuckles.

“Do you know the moment I fell in love with you?” he implores.

You perked up, removing your head from his shoulders and straddling his lap on the cold kitchen floor.

“No, do tell.”

“The first case you were in on, once we caught the unsub… we were on that plot of land in the middle of nowhere. It was the middle of the night and you could see every individual star and I couldn’t help but think you shone the brightest out of all of them… I saw you mouthing words to the sky, and I grew curious. Upon closer approach, I overheard you talking to the moon, clutching your necklace. I knew in that moment that I was doomed. Nothing about you made sense and at the same time everything did.”

You listened intently to every sentence he produced, hanging on to every last word.

“You big sap.” You lightly smacked his arm.

“I’m just recalling the truth, blame my brain,” he responded, giggling.

“You and that big beautiful brain of yours… I remember that. Y’know what’s funny? That’s the same night I fell in love with you … ironically enough, I caught you staring at me with the most precious expression on your face as if we hadn’t just witnessed the horrific events of our job. I knew then and there that you were a wonderful soul and you were the soul for me.”

“Oh, whose the sap now?”

“Shut up Spencer, you know you love it.”

“That I do.”

He let out a warm breath with his chuckle and you swore it was the loveliest sensation on the planet. Nothing felt more intimate than this moment. You pressed your nose against his shoulder and inhaled his scent – a mixture of vanilla and something sweet you couldn’t quite place your finger on. He slowly rocked you in his arms and you could feel yourself dancing on the edge of sleep.

He hummed along with the music, contemplating where the conversation might lead. Your quiet snuffs made his heart full, he pet your hair as you slowly closed your eyes. And when you nuzzled into his chest, clutching onto his shirt, in that moment, he knew.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, my darling?” You mumbled almost incoherently.

“Will you marry me?”

Wide-eyed, you sat up and rubbed at your eyes with your hand covered by the sleeves of his cardigan. You searched his eyes for any hint of a joke – but alas, you found none.

“Say it again.”

“Will you marry me?”

Tears brimmed your eyes as you looked at the man sitting before you and you began to nod profusely. Stray strands of hair flying as you pressed your lips to his, almost inhaling him, trying to soak in his entire being.

“Oh Spence, of course I will… Yes! Yes.”

He cradled your face in his hands, breaking the kiss just to look at his love’s face. Nothing could be more perfect, no proposal more fitting for your relationship. Soft, intimate, silly and of course entirely sappy.

He dug into the pocket of his cardigan and pulled out a delicate ring, laying his hand flat out as an invitation for your own. You placed your hand on his and he slowly slipped the ring onto your finger. Admiring it for no more than a second, you pulled him back in for yet another kiss.

“I love it Spencer and I love you even more.”

“Impossible. I love you more.”

You stared into his eyes, a smile adorning your respective faces. Breaking eye contact, you looked down at the ring, taking notice that it was in the shape of two hands holding a moon… and on the side it had one simple phrase engraved into it.

‘After all, we were made from the same star.’

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige

“The thing I love about being an actor is to fully work with someone and try so hard to be at every level with them, chasing whatever it is you need or want from them.”

  GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 008 Magazine Scans > 2021 > Backstage (August 19)

Backstage: Elizabeth Olsen grins widely over video chat when recalling many such moments on set with her co-stars. Yet, she can’t bring herself to divorce such a lofty vision of film acting from the technical multitasking it requires. The camera sees all.

“But then you move your hair, and you’re in your brain, like: OK, remember that! Because I don’t want to edit myself out of a shot. I know some actors are like, ‘Continuity, shmontinuity!’ But the good thing about continuity is, if you remember it, you’re actually providing yourself with more options for the edit.”

That need to balance being both inside the scene and outside of it, fully living it and yet constantly visualizing it on a screen, feels particularly apt in light of Olsen’s most recent project, “WandaVision.”

The mysteries at the heart of the show grow with every episode, each fast-forwarding to a different decade: Could this 1950s, black-and-white, “filmed in front of a studio audience” newlyweds bit be a grief-stricken dream? Might this ’70s spoof be a powerful spell gone awry? Could this meta take on mockumentary comedies be proof that the multiverse is finally coming to the Marvel Cinematic Universe?

The series’ structure, which branches out to include government agents intent on finding out why Westview has seemingly disappeared, calls for the entire cast to play with a mix of genres, balancing a shape-shifting tone that culminates in an epic, MCU-style conclusion. What’s key—and why the show struck a chord with audiences during its nine-episode run—is the miniseries’ commitment to grounding its initial kooky setups and its later special effects-driven spectacle in heartbreaking emotional truths. It’s no small feat, though it’s one that can often be taken for granted.

“I was thinking how hard it would have been to have shot the first ‘Lord of the Rings,’ ” Olsen muses. “Like, you’re putting all these actors [into the frame] later and at all these different levels. All the eyelines are completely unnatural. And yet the performances are fantastic! And technically, they are so hard. People forget sometimes that these things are really technically hard to shoot. And if you are moved by their performance, that took a lot of multitasking.”

As someone who has learned plenty about harnesses, wirework, fight choreography, and green screens (she’s starred in four Marvel movies, including the box office megahit “Avengers: Endgame,” after all), Olsen knows how hard it can be to wrap one’s brain around the work needed to pull off those big, splashy scenes.

“​​If you think about it, it’s, like, the biggest stakes in the entire world—every time. And that feels silly to act over and over again, especially when people are in silly costumes and the love of your life is purple and sparkly, and every time you kiss them, you have to worry about getting it on your hands. Those things are ridiculous. You feel ridiculous. So there is a part of your brain that has to shovel that away and just look into someone’s eyeballs—and sometimes, they don’t even have eyeballs!”

The ability to spend so much time with Wanda, albeit in the guise of sitcom parodies, was a welcome opportunity for Olsen. Not only did it allow the actor to really wrestle with the traumatic backstory that has long defined the character in the MCU, but having the chance to calibrate a performance that functions on so many different levels was a thrilling challenge.

“It was such an amazing work experience,” she says. “Kathryn [Hahn] uses the word ‘profound’—which is so sweet, because it is Marvel, and people, you know, don’t think of those experiences as profound when they watch them. But it really was such a special crew that [director] Matt Shakman and [creator] Jac Schaeffer created. It was a really healthy working environment.”

Related‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance ‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance Considering that the miniseries spans several sitcom iterations, various layers of televisual reality, and a number of character reveals that needed to feel truthful and impactful in equal measure, Shakman’s decision to work closely with his actors ahead of shooting was key.

“We truly had a gorgeous amount of time together before we started filming,” Olsen remembers. “Our goal was—which is controversial in TV land—that if you wanted to change [anything], like dialogue in a scene, you had to give those notes a week before we even got there. Because sometimes you get to set, and someone had a brilliant idea while they were sleeping, and you’re like, ‘We don’t have an hour to talk about this. We have seven pages to shoot.’ And so, we were all on the same page with one another, knowing what we were shooting ahead of time.

“Matt just treated us like a troupe of actors who were about to do some regional theater shit,” she adds with a smile.

That spirit of camaraderie was, not coincidentally, at the heart of Olsen’s breakout project, Sean Durkin’s 2011 indie sensation “Martha Marcy May Marlene.” As an introduction to the process of filmmaking to a young stage-trained actor, Durkin’s quietly devastating drama was a dream—and an invaluable learning opportunity.

“It was truly just a bunch of people who loved the script, who just were doing the work. I didn’t understand lenses, so I just did the same thing all the time. I never knew if the camera would be on me or not. There was just so much purity in that experience, and you only have that once.”

The film announced Olsen as a talent to watch: a keen-eyed performer capable of deploying a stilted physicality and clipped delivery, which she used to conjure up a wounded girl learning how to shake off her time spent in a cult in upstate New York. But Olsen admits that it took her a while to figure out how to navigate her career choices afterward. In the years following “Martha,” she felt compelled to try on everything: a horror flick here, a high-profile remake there, a period piece here, an action movie there. It wasn’t until she starred in neo-Western thriller “Wind River” (alongside fellow Marvel regular Jeremy Renner) and the dark comedy “Ingrid Goes West” (opposite a deliciously deranged Aubrey Plaza) that Olsen found her groove.

“It was at that point, when I was five years into working, where I was like, Ah, I know how I want it. I know what I need from these people—from who’s involved, from producers, from directors, from the character, from the script—in order to trust that it’s going to be a fruitful experience.”

As Olsen looks back on her first decade as a working actor, she points out how far removed she is from that young girl who broke out in “Martha Marcy May Marlene.”

“I feel like a totally different person. I don’t know if everyone who’s in their early 30s feels like their early 20s self is a totally different human. But when I think about that version of myself, it feels like a long time ago; there’s a lot learned in a decade.”

Those early years were marked by a self-effacing humility that often led Olsen to defer to others when it came to key decisions about the characters she was playing. But she now feels emboldened to not only stand up for herself and her choices but for others on her sets as well.

“[Facebook Watch series] ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ I got to produce, and I really found my voice in a collaborative leadership way. And with ‘WandaVision,’ Paul [Bettany] and I really took on that feeling, as well—especially since we were introducing new characters to Marvel and wanted [those actors] to feel protected and helped,” she says. “They could ask questions and make sure they felt like they had all the things they needed because sometimes you don’t even know what you need to ask.”

It’s a lesson she learned working with filmmaker Marc Abraham on the Hank Williams biopic “I Saw the Light,” and she’s carried it with her ever since. “I really want it to feel like we’re all in this together, as a team,” Olsen says. “That was part of ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ and it was part of ‘WandaVision,’ and I hope to continue that kind of energy because those have been some of the healthiest work experiences I’ve had.”

If Olsen sounds particularly zealous about the importance of a comfortable, working set, it is because she’s well aware that therein lies an integral part of the work and the process. As an actor, she wants to feel protected and nurtured by those around her, whether she’s reacting to a telling, quiet line of dialogue about grief or donning her iconic Scarlet Witch outfit during a magic-filled mid-air action sequence.

“Sometimes you’re going to be foolish, you know? And [you need to] feel brave to be foolish. Sometimes people feel embarrassed on set and snap. But if you’re in a place where people feel like they’re allowed to be an idiot,” she says, “you’re going to feel better about being an idiot.”

This story originally appeared in the Aug. 19 issue of Backstage Magazine. Subscribe here.

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[me-and-your-husband]

together || a. barber

Summary: You and Andy spend your Valentine’s Day together, basking in the glow of each other.

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: I wrote this for @drabblewithfrannybarnes @chrissquares and @amythedvdhoarder 's Hoelentine’s fic swap! This is a gift for the extremely deserving @trashywritestrash !

The blinding sunlight peeked through the translucent white curtains and brought life into the room. The warm glow on your skin roused you, and your eyes fluttered open to look at the man beside you who was radiating such an ethereal energy that he was almost glowing. The golden light shone on his bare chest and highlighted the few grays in his beard and hair. The rhythmic rising of his chest up and down as he breathed was rather calming, and the faintest creases showed at the corners of his eyes, evidence of many years of laughter. 

While you were busy memorizing his every feature, the hand that wrapped around you subconsciously pulled you closer, burying your face in his neck. He still smelled of his cologne even after he showered last night. You smiled softly against his neck when you realized that even in his sleep, his subconscious knew that he wanted you close. 

Hours passed and the sun rose in the sky, brightening the room further. It was a Sunday, and Andy had the weekend off. He knew he wanted to spend the day with his girl on Valentine’s Day. When the birds stopped chirping and the streets became busy with a Sunday morning buzz, Andy stirred. Lifting your head from his neck, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal his gorgeous blue eyes.

Resting a hand on the side of his cheek and softly scratching his beard, you took a moment to admire him further as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light. 

“Morning, honey,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. “How did you sleep?”

His hands moved to rest on your hips. “You know I always sleep perfectly next to you,” you hummed. He huffed out a small laugh, before pulling you back into his chest. 

“Y’know what day it is?” He teased.

“Of course I do, it’s National Organ Donor Day,” you smirked, lifting your head off his chest. 

He chuckled, “Very funny, Y/N.” He pushed you off his chest playfully. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It’s Valentine’s Day,” you laughed.

“Oh really?” He said, words dripping in sarcasm. Leaning down, he brought his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, only parting when air became insufficient. 

You groaned, though the dazed smile on your face contradicted you. “We should probably get out of bed. It’s almost ten thirty,” you gestured towards the alarm clock on the bedside table. 

“Right. Wouldn’t wanna waste such a special day. We’ve gotta give thanks to the organ donors of America.”

The day continued as normal. Andy believed that spoiling his girl and showing her an abundance of affection shouldn’t be a one day a year thing. You and Andy ran a few errands and did a few things around the house, and in the late afternoon you slumped onto your couch after helping Andy carry the grocery bags through the door. 

Finding your exhaustion quite amusing, Andy chuckled. “If you’re tired, you can go have a nap, honey.”

You let out a noise in between a whine and a groan. “No, it’s Valentine’s Day and I want to spend it together. Besides, we’ve got that reservation-”

“Forget the reservation,” Andy professed. Feeling the couch dip with his weight, you felt his large hand rub soothingly up and down your back. “I’m happy wherever you are. And it’ll be way better if you aren’t exhausted. Go sleep, I’ll make dinner.”

“Ngh, are you sure?” You asked him softly, to which he nodded his head solemnly. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up and threw yourself into your bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

In the kitchen, Andy was busy trying to boil pasta, cook chicken, cut vegetables and make sauce all at once, all while trying to be quiet as to not wake you from your peaceful slumber. Of course he succeeded, because it was Andy. 

An hour and a half later, Andy scribbled on a bright green sticky note and placed it right on the screen of your phone so that you couldn’t miss it when you checked the time. Taking a moment to admire your sleeping state before creeping back out of the room, Andy couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. What if you said no? What would he do without you? It was so unhealthy to live for another person other than yourself, it was unhealthy to be so obsessed with someone else’s love that you wanted to be in their immediate vicinity at all times, and it was unhealthy to give your entire self solely to someone else. Andy knew it was unhealthy, and before you he reminded himself of that every day. But then you came along, with your glowing smile and radiance, and Andy couldn’t help but follow you like a lost puppy and bend his morals to fit you into his life completely. 

It wasn’t like you did it on purpose. It wasn’t like you pranced into Andy’s life, took his whole heart in your hands, and forced him to trust you with it. No, he did that willingly. Who wouldn’t, though? You were anything but malicious with his soul. You guarded his heart like it belonged to the best man in the universe. Which to you, it did. 

Andy was the person who you wanted to shield from everything wrong and harmful in the world. Together, the two of you could create a little opaque protective bubble in which you could dwell in together, blocking out the rest of the world and the world not bothering you. Loving Andy was not a decision you made, but it was one you were thankful for nonetheless. 

The ringing of your alarm sounded, pulling you from your sleep. Stretching momentarily, you picked up your phone and aggressively tapped it to get it to stop ringing. When it didn’t, you opened up your eyes and after they adjusted to the light, you were met with the presence of a neon sticky note on your screen. You recognized Andy’s cursive:

Put something nice on, and come out when you’re ready.

You had to admit that you were curious, but you rolled out of bed and ruffled through your closet. After some indecisiveness, you settled on an outfit that you knew was Andy;s favorite. You put your hair up neatly and put any makeup you wished to wear on. It wasn’t long until you were ready, and when you were you opened your bedroom door and your ears were met with the soft hum of classical music. Walking down the hallway, you could tell that the house was dimly light, likely by candles. 

You finally stood before Andy at the kitchen table, who was pouring a glass of wine for you and placing it next to your plate. It was filled with all sorts of foods, and your mouth watered at the display. Andy gestured for you to sit, so you did so. He had changed since earlier, he now wore his usual slacks and a dress shirt, but no tie this time.

“Andy,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to do all of this!” You gawked as you looked around. Grabbing your hands from across the table, Andy assured you that he did, that he needs to show you how much he loves you. 

“Andy, you show me that every day. It’s laced in the little things you do like a drug.”

“And you’re addicted?” He asked smugly.

“And I’m addicted,” you confirmed. 

Andy took a deep breath as his mind wandered to the small velvet box in his back pocket. Looking at you, he realized that he wanted to do this now. Grabbing your hand, he led you to the back door. 

“Andy, where are we going?” You laughed. 

“You’ll see.”

Sliding open the back door, Andy led you out and shut it again. He let go of your hand when you spun around to take in the scene. Strings of lights were strung across the yard, illuminating the area. They created a box around you. You looked up towards the sky. The stars were almost clear tonight, the city’s pollution making them harder to see, but they were still as clear as always. 

Looking back down, you saw the man who held your heart in his hands, now holding a velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat and you let out a sob, hands flying up to cover your mouth. 

“Andy…” you choked out. He only let out a shaky breath.

“Y/N,” he began before he cleared his throat. “God, I pretty much recite speeches for a living and now I’m blanking on everything I practiced. Alright, I’m going to wing it,” he announced and you laughed with watery eyes. 

“Y/N, darling, love of my life, it’s quite a ridiculous notion that someone would follow another person to the ends of the earth, but here we are. I would travel anywhere just to keep you within my reach. I want to be able to call you Mrs. Barber, to wear your wedding band and for you to wear this ring. I want to grow and have a family with you and grow old with you. You’re like my air. I need you. And I know you don’t need me, because you’re the most independent woman I know, but even thinking about you makes my chest hurt. So please, Y/N, before this kills me, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Andy! Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot! I love you, I love you, I love you!” You gushed, hurling yourself into his arms. Burying his face in your neck, his beard felt scratchy against your skin. You could feel the hot tears on his cheeks, as you were sure he could feel yours.

And the two of you stayed like that for a while. Just holding on to each other. You relished in the confirmation of your everlasting bond and the next step you’d be taking together. But really, you two just revelled in the notion of feeling so safe in your lover’s arms, knowing you’d protect each other from the world. Together.

TAGLIST:

@ilovemarvel-andcats​

my other taglist members have been deactivated :(

[valdomarx]

La Campanella

McShep + Rodney plays the piano Rodney never could resist a challenge, especially when it’s set by Sheppard.

Atlantis is a place of many wonders, but Rodney's favorite is this:

In a distant part of the northern pier is a short, squat tower which he and Sheppard investigate on a routine patrol.

And in that tower is a large, unassuming room like a lecture hall.

And in the center of the room is an object seven foot long and three feet high, elegant, delicate, and familiar.

“Is that…” Rodney practically runs over to touch it, as reckless as that urge can be in Atlantis, but he knows this isn’t a weapon or a piece of broken technology or some dangerous machine. It’s a thing of beauty.

It’s an instrument remarkably like a piano: white and black reversed, keys slightly different lengths, but the same 12-step configuration making up an octave. Keys which strike strings stretched over a wide frame with soft hammers, and this can’t be a coincidence.

“How... ” he starts, and then he answers his own question. “The Ancients must have invented this instrument and brought the concept with them to Earth. But that would overturn so much musical history they’ll have to rewrite the textbooks, can you even imagine the implications -”

John does not look as fascinated by the profound repercussions of this discovery on the history of western classical music as Rodney is.

He waves questions of history aside and sits on the low stool in front of the keyboard, blowing away the years of accumulated dust. His hands instinctively settle into arches, his wrists loose, and he plays a few simple scales. The notes sound out clear and true, but -

He frowns.

“Something wrong?” Sheppard is leaning over the instrument, studying him and it with interest.

“This is tuned half a tone lower than an Earth piano. Feels a bit weird, that’s all.”

“How do you know that?”

Rodney affects his smuggest smile. “Perfect pitch, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Sheppard says, rolling his eyes.

Rodney looks around the room furtively, keen for reasons he can’t articulate that no one else should observe them, and he starts to play.

-

It becomes a habit, a place to unwind, somewhere they visit on off hours and in quiet moments.

Today Sheppard is flicking through a golf magazine while Rodney warms up with some Bach. The music is pleasing and orderly, and the sparse, bright notes explode in fractal-like patterns, unfurling and changing and becoming more complex the closer you look.

John tilts his head to one side and says, “You know there’s a whole bunch of classical music on the Atlantis server?”

Rodney grins. He did know that, in fact. Never get between a team of scientists and their file sharing. “I may have heard.”

“I listened to some of the Chopin you like. Then some other piano stuff as well.”

“Yeah?” Rodney picks at a fingernail. Something about the idea of John listening to music just because Rodney likes it makes his heart beat a little faster. “Find anything you liked?”

“A bunch actually. Have you heard of a piece called La Campanella? By a guy named Liszt?"

"Have I…" Has he heard of the single hardest piece in the entire solo piano repertoire? The fact he could never get those double stops right haunts him to this day. "Yeah, it rings a bell."

"I like that one," John says decisively. "It's nice."

Nice??? Sheppard thinks the most epic and demanding piece of all time is nice? Of course he does.

"You should learn to play it," John says casually, like he's suggesting they watch an action movie instead of a scifi.

"I should -" he splutters. "Do you have any idea how difficult that is? It's practically impossible."

John smirks and says, "I thought practically impossible was your specialty?"

Rodney is still spluttering when John throws him a wink and walks out.

-

And then, because despite being the finest mind in two galaxies, on some level he truly is an idiot, he stretches out his fingers and starts to practice.

-

It's not like he had copious free time to start with. But he makes space whenever he can to come to the piano room, chipping away at this ludicrous piece, bit by bit, phrase by phrase, over and over and over.

People think that learning to play is artistry, and maybe it is that too, but mostly it's a grind. You keep doing it again and again until you get it right. It's as much about stubbornness as about skill.

And stubbornness is something Rodney McKay has in abundance.

-

Liszt really was a sadistic old bastard, Rodney thinks sourly as he works on the right hand jumps until his fingers turn to lead.

-

Sometimes Sheppard comes and sits with him while he practices, and on those days he plays easier pieces, things which are familiar and casual. Not that John seems to pay much attention, but Rodney has the urge to impress him all the same.

He’s always having that urge around John.

-

He spends an entire week working on his goddamn trill.

It shouldn’t matter and it’s not like anyone will really listen to it. But it seems to represent something important — a sequence of paired adjacent notes, next to each other but never quite touching, bouncing off each other time and time again, a dance of two — though he doesn’t want to examine that too closely.

-

He doesn’t tell anyone else about the piano. He tells himself that’s because it’s convenient that he doesn’t have to share and can use it whenever he wants.

But really, he likes that it’s his and Sheppard’s; their own tiny secret in this vast and sprawling city.

-

He hears the piece in his sleep, and on missions, and when he’s working in his lab. It becomes a background hum of his brain, always there, a sort of yearning for the possible, the platonic ideal, the way that things could be.

He tries not to examine that too closely either, though the weight of the realization is becoming harder to ignore.

-

Eventually the piece is as ready as it's going to be. He scribbles a quick note during a meeting, folds it into a paper airplane, and throws it at Sheppard's head. He hits him right in the temple, and he manages to avoid cheering when Elizabeth glares at him.

I have something to play for you, the note reads. Meet you at 7? You know where. - R

He jots it down without really thinking, and only once he's thrown does it occur to him how soppy it sounds.

John doesn't seem too perturbed though. He smiles down at the note and meets Rodney's eye with a little eyebrow wiggle which Rodney takes to mean, Gonna impress me?

-

By the time John arrives, Rodney is all warmed up and more nervous than he's ever been about a performance. His heart is racing, and when John gives him a fond look and says, "Hey," it trips even faster.

Once he settles in to play though, there's a certain kind of mental clarity that settles over him. His hands know how to do this, he just has to sit back and let them.

His wrists are still tense as he sounds out the first few bars and then, all at once, he relaxes into it and lets the music carry him. Hours of repetition have made every chord, every melody, every insane and unreasonable jump into something almost effortless. He even forgets John is there: there’s only him, and the piano, and the music.

The music builds and builds, each section becoming more and more ornamented, more complex, more physically demanding, all at a relentless pace that sends most players reeling. But he's got this, he can do this, it turns out all he needed was a bit of motivation.

The penultimate section is his favorite: The technical parts are done and here he can throw himself into the wild, over the top glory of the final melody. And perhaps he shows off a little bit, catching John's eye and grinning at him, but that's all part of the fun.

The piece ends with a crashing, massive finale that makes him feel like a virtuoso, and then in a last few epic chords it's done, as tight and perfect a five minutes as you could wish for.

The final chord reverberates on and on through the stillness of the room, glowing out beyond the city and into the night.

"Wow." John's eyes are wide. "That was great."

Rodney preens, because that ineloquent little comment somehow means more to him than an auditorium full of ecstatic applause. Having John look at him like that makes the months of practice worth it.

"You liked it?" He's fishing for compliments, but he figures he's earned it.

"I did," John says, staring at Rodney's hands like they hold the secrets to the universe.

He looks up and blushes at having been caught staring. Then he deflects and shrugs one shoulder. “Honestly, though, it’s not my favorite piano piece.”

Rodney narrows his eyes. He has the distinct impression he’s been played. “What was your favorite then?”

"I prefer Songs Without Words."

"Mendelssohn?" he explodes. "You wanted Mendelssohn? Jesus Christ, I learned to play that when I was eight!"

John grins. "I appreciate simplicity in music."

"Then why on earth did you make me learn Liszt?!"

John has this joyous, manic light in his eyes, like he's having the time of his life here, messing around with Rodney, of all the things he could be doing. "I like watching you do impossible things."

He sucks in a breath. "I hate you."

"No you don't." John leans in, smug and delighted, and oh, Rodney is so in love with this ridiculous, infuriating man that he could burst. "You learned La Campanella for me."

"It wasn't that hard," he says quickly, because he has a reputation to maintain here. But John laughs and gives him this soft, teasing look, one eyebrow quirked at a ridiculous angle beneath the chaotic mess of his hair, and Rodney is defenseless.

"Whatever you say, McKay," John says, and Rodney has the feeling he sees straight through him. "Now play it again."

[gingeralepdf]

Walk On By - Part 2

A/N: yay!!!!!! another installment in the shroomrry cinematic universe is here!! i want to say a huge thank you to el ( @harrytheehottie​ ) and brailey ( @daydreamsofh​ ) for being excellent beta readers and supporters. <3 <3

and thank you to everyone who has shown my writing love. i truly appreciate it so much. i hope you like this part just as much as the first one. :-)

if you haven’t read part 1, catch up here!!

🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: just under 5k

**September 15th, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

The brakes on your car squeal as you pull into the last empty spot along the curb and shift into park. The music from your radio comes to an abrupt stop when you turn the key back to shut the engine off. Your head hits the headrest behind you before you empty your lungs into the silence.

Cars drive past on the street to your left. It’s just past five thirty, so all of the after work traffic is in full swing.

You’ve been avoiding this errand for two weeks now. There’s a record that you’ve been wanting to get your hands on ever since one of your coworkers played it at a work function. After looking through shelf after shelf in all of your favorite shops in L.A., and even making some calls to shops in surrounding areas, they’ve all come up short.

This seems to be your very last resort. Right across the street, sandwiched between a donut shop and a hair salon, is Jupiter House Records. From what you remember, this shop has a really good selection and variety, but the handful of unpleasant interactions you’ve had with the owner have been enough to make you look somewhere else. You’ve been stubbornly avoiding this place for years. Now you have a whole other reason for not wanting to spend hours in this store digging through to find your favorites or discover new ones.

Harry works here.

You haven’t seen him since he showed up on your doorstep to return your address book. The conversation you had with Jenny when she came home from work that evening plays through your mind again.

Both of you plop down on opposite sides of the couch in your living room. You sigh and take a big sip from your glass of wine before explaining the whole interaction to her, starting from the moment you opened the door to the moment you saw him drive away in his car.

Jenny grins. The only sound in the room comes from the ticking of the clock on the wall as you wait for her response. “I think he likes you.”

You squint. “That’s what you’re taking away from all of that?”

Her eyes widen and she springs forward, almost sloshing the wine out of her glass when she sets it on the coffee table. “Oh, so you’re telling me he saw the ‘If lost please return to..’ in your address book and decided to make a trip to our house to return it to you in person, when he could have just sent it in the mail?”

You can feel a crease forming between your eyebrows and you take in a sharp breath, fully prepared to counter her point, but she barrels through.

“And he wanted to ‘make sure you were okay’. Out of all the dealers that we’ve met, how many have just shown up at our houses to check up on us? Zero.”

You press your lips together. You can’t argue the fact that this alone sets Harry apart. However, this doesn’t mean he likes you. Maybe it just means that he’s the kind of person that goes the extra mile for the people he does business with. He could have easily left you and Jen sitting on the sidewalk after the concert, but he decided to help, to do what any other good-natured person would do.

“And let’s not forget how he threw the paper on the doorstep so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way down the driveway.” Jenny clutches her chest and swoons.

Scoffing at the way she’s adding dramatics, you challenge, “How do you know he didn’t show up here to see you?”

“He didn’t ask about me, did he?”

“No,” you begrudgingly mumble into your glass.

She grabs her glass from the coffee table and gives you a knowing look. She’s made her point, and the more it lingers like the aftertaste of wine, the more conflicted you become.

You’ve spent more idle moments than you’d like to admit since then thinking about the night you were sitting outside of the Forum. Thinking about what possessed you to lean in and study his face so closely. Was it solely the effects of the drugs? If that���s the case, then why do you want to go back to that moment so badly? And why didn’t Harry pull away? Did he really blush when you were staring at him? Was his heart really racing when you gave him a hug, or was that just your wild imagination?

The honking of a car brings you out of your thoughts. You take a deep breath and trill your lips. There’s a slight break in traffic. If you don’t get out of your car and cross the street now, you fear you’ll stay here stuck in your thoughts all evening.

With a huff, you rip your keys from the ignition and push your door open. You cross the street, walking with a purpose, and make it to the sidewalk.

The full strength of your nerves doesn’t hit you until you’re just in front of the store and the glass door swings out with a simultaneous chime of a bell. Your heart drops from your chest to your stomach and you freeze on the sidewalk to avoid colliding with the man exiting the shop.

When he stops to hold the door open for you, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. You mutter a ‘thank you’ as your hand firmly grips the cool metal of the door handle. Almost like you’re using it as a crutch to get you through the threshold.

Your shoes meet the shaggy mustard yellow carpet, matted down by years of customer traffic.

A woman that looks about your age greets you from behind a counter to your right. You return her half smile and she goes back to flipping through the magazine on the counter in front of her. The nametag on her floral shirt reads ‘Nora’. Behind her is a door with a red ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign taped to it.

Underneath the counter that she’s leaning on is a glass case holding records and cassette tapes, all marked ‘deluxe’ or ‘limited edition’. Spread out next to them are a few t-shirts, buttons, and stickers with the store logo printed on them.

You weren’t expecting it to be so quiet. Right now it seems like you and Nora are the only people in the store. The coast is clear. You can relax a bit. The adrenaline rush you were feeling on the other side of the door has now been replaced by the whirring of the air vents and David Bowie’s “Queen Bitch” playing over the speakers.

You turn to your left to take in the rest of the store, meandering into the first row of record shelves.

The large window taking up the entire front wall lets in plenty of evening sun that warms your skin through your shirt. More shelves, each one three tiers deep, line the rest of the walls and create aisles in the middle of the room.

Signs hanging from the ceiling above each section indicate the genre. The one you’re standing next to is labeled ‘new releases’ with a smaller font that reads ‘alpha by artist’. Other sections are labeled country, rock, disco, classical. Your eyes land on the back corner of the store where the funk, soul, and jazz sections are.

You make your way over while pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.

Unsure of which specific section the record you’re looking for will be in, you decide to start on one end of the corner and search all the way through to the other in hopes of finding it.

You fall into a familiar routine of searching through the first tier, then the second, leaning over to search through the top tier, and then taking a step over to start the whole process again.

Once you’re about halfway through the soul section, the bell on the door chimes again. You can’t be bothered to look, not wanting to lose your place.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Goddamnit. Your hands freeze their movements and your heart begins to race all over again. You know exactly who just walked through that door.

“Harry,” Nora admonishes, “I finally have a date after two months and you’re gonna make me late.”

Harry’s mumbled response is drowned out by the loud creak of the door behind the counter, but judging by Nora’s gasp and the unmistakable thwack of a magazine, maybe it’s better left between the two of them.

You begin to slowly file through records again, this time not paying much attention to what you’re doing. More-so to give your hands something to do and appear busy while trying to hear the rest of their conversation.

Nora sighs, “It’s been really slow today. Hopefully it’s a slow night for you.” All you hear is some shuffling before she adds, “Oh, boss wanted me to remind you not to play the music too loud.”

“Did he? Dunno what he’s talking about,” Harry says, feigning innocence.

Nora laughs, “Whatever.”

The next thing you hear is the jingling of keys and footsteps across the carpet.

Harry raises his voice from the back room, “Are you gonna punch out?”

“Will you do it for me? I’ve gotta go.”

“Sure.”

The bell on the door rings and Nora yells from the doorway, “I left three boxes in the back for you to restock!”

“Oh thanks,” Harry yells back with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Bye,” she sings as she walks out.

The door slams behind her. The bell’s high pitched ringing seems to hang in the air.

Silence falls on the room when the song playing over the speakers stops suddenly, making the room quiet enough to hear the traffic outside. You hear a needle drop and after a few seconds, the opening guitar notes of “Can You Get to That” by Funkadelic begin to play. The corners of your mouth turn down to fight a smile when the volume is promptly turned up much louder than what it was when you walked in.

You take a sharp breath in, realizing that you’re going to have to turn around at some point. Surely you can’t just stay in this corner and keep your back turned to him until the place closes. You don’t know what you’re going to say to him. Will he even recognize you after not seeing you for weeks?

There’s not much time to decide what to do when the sound of footsteps approaching on the carpet is getting closer to you.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear his voice.

“Finding everything alright?”

You turn your head to the left.

Harry is standing a few shelves apart from you with a box propped between the shelf and his hip. The sunlight from the window shines through the ends of his hair and the sleeves of his white t-shirt when he grabs a record from the box and reaches out to carefully wedge it back into the right place. You scan down to where his shirt is tucked into a pair of dark brown corduroy pants, and further down to see a pair of dirty white sneakers peeking out from the ends of the flares. When he turns his head to the box again, you notice that his mustache is significantly thinner from the last time you saw each other.

Heat rushes up your neck and onto your face when he glances up at you.

His hand pauses in the air and his eyebrows raise slightly before the corners of his mouth do the same, revealing just a hint of his dimples. His head tilts back and he blinks in surprise. “Oh… hi.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when he addresses you by name. Mirroring his smile and turning your shoulders to face him, you reply, “Hi. I… didn’t know you worked here.”

A flat out lie, but thankfully he doesn’t seem too suspect about it.

He frowns and looks down at his shirt, pulling it out in front of him to reveal his nametag. “Hm. M’ afraid I do,” he says flatly.

A breathy chuckle leaves you, amused at the way he’s effortlessly making sarcastic remarks like this with you and his coworker. Quite different from the stiffly awkward interactions you’ve had with him. It’s like you’re seeing him in his natural environment. Him being at ease is having the same effect on you.

“Do you need help finding anything?” he asks, continuing his previous actions, this time with a soft smile.

“Actually, yes,” you clear your throat, “I’m looking for this specific record. I’ve looked all over for it by now. I’m pretty sure it should be in one of these sections if you have it, but...” you trail off as you cast a glance over your shoulder to the shelves you have yet to go through.

“I can take a look in our inventory. Save you some time?”

Of course. Why didn’t you just ask about that when you first walked in? “Sure. That would be great.”

Harry hoists the box into the crook of his arm with a faint grunt and you follow him over to the counter. After setting the box at the end of the countertop, he walks to the other end and reaches underneath the register, pulling out a large beat up binder with ‘inventory’ written on the spine.

It lands on the counter with a plop, probably due to the huge stack of paper inside, separated by multicolored tabs.

“What’s the artist’s name?” he asks after opening the binder to the first page.

“The Equatics.”

He pulls on the ‘A’ tab and folds it over.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Equatics with an ‘E’.”

He tuts and shakes his head before tracing his finger down and pulling on the ‘E’ tab. “Equatics with an ‘E’,” he mumbles.

You fold your lips between your teeth.

Now you’re thankful for the loud music filling the room as you’re standing wordlessly in front of the counter watching him flip through the pages of the inventory binder. Hair hangs in front of his face as his head is tilted down to scan over the pages, all filled with scribbles, arrows, and notes in the margins written in blue, black, and red ink. It all means nothing to you, especially looking at it upside down. You can only imagine how tedious it must be to keep up with.

With his left hand pressed flat against the counter, the expanse of his arm is right in front of you. Hopefully he can’t feel your eyes surveying his tattoos, at least the ones you can see from this angle. A small cross on his hand, an anchor on his wrist, the tail of a mermaid, a delicate rose near his elbow, a heart just beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

He inhales sharply and clears his throat into his fist, “Looks like we do have it. It’s actually in our as-is section.” As he’s speaking, he spins the binder in your direction and slides his finger almost to the bottom of the page to point out where it lists the artist, album title, and the section it’s in.

Despite the relief that comes with finally finding something you’ve been searching for, your face falls a bit. You know that ‘as-is’ is often just a nice way of saying that something is heavily used. “Does that mean it’s… damaged?”

Harry hums and tilts his head to the side, not meeting your eyes until he responds.

“Not always. Honestly we’re pretty much required to put stuff in that section even if it’s just the sleeve that’s messed up. Sometimes the record itself is still in great condition. You can still find some good stuff in there.”

“Okay. Where’s the as-is section?” You don’t remember seeing a sign for it when you walked in, unless you just overlooked it.

“Right. It's, uh, down this hallway here. Kind of hidden.”

Harry rounds the end of the counter and you follow him over to a doorway covered with a ruby red beaded curtain. Harry pulls it to the side and steps through first, pausing to hold the curtain back for you. You mutter a ‘thanks’ and step into a long hallway that extends to your right.

He releases the curtain, letting the beads crash together, before starting down the hallway.

Both walls are lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of cassette tapes, with each row of shelving just tall enough to fit their size. There’s so much packed in this long stretch of narrow space, like a condensed, fluorescent-lit cornucopia.

“I had no idea all of this was back here,” you comment, slightly dumbfounded that you probably would have overlooked this hallway entirely if it hadn’t been pointed out to you.

“Yeah, lots of people think it’s off limits because of the curtain. I need to put some signs up or something.”

As you’re walking behind Harry, you realize you were too distracted before to see print on the back of his shirt, let alone make out what it said. Bold purple font reads ‘MY MIND IS UP ON THE MOUNTAINS’ with a smaller font at the bottom that reads ‘(and i didn’t even have to climb)’. The words are surrounded by a sun, a few flowers, a picture of a mountain, and two mushrooms on the bottom.

A smirk creeps onto the corner of your mouth at how incredibly on the nose it seems for him. It makes you wonder if anyone here knows about his other job, or if he’s hiding in plain sight.

Once you’re both about a third of the way down the hallway, there’s a gap in the shelves on the right filled by a nondescript doorway.

“Here we are.” Harry stops and reaches on the other side of the doorway to flip the light switch before stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in first.

You step into a small room. It only contains two long folding tables pushed against opposite walls. Rather than fancy, neat shelves, the records here are stored in milk crates and cardboard boxes lined up on the tops of the tables. It almost looks like you’ve come across a garage sale.

You furrow your eyebrows and purse your lips to the side as you walk up to the first box at the end of the table closest to the door. When you reach in, Harry speaks up.

“I could help you look for a bit, if you want.”

Harry’s now leaning against the doorframe, running a hand against his jaw. Do you see a slight tinge of pink creeping onto his cheeks as well?

“I don’t really have anything better to do. Plus this section... isn’t really organized,” he continues.

You bring your attention back to the box in front of you, a sharp breath escaping your nose when you turn the Johnny Cash record back to reveal a Mozart one behind it. “I can see that.”

“But if you want to look around by yourself I understand, I can leave you to it,” he says, already slightly backing up into the hallway.

“No, I wouldn’t mind the company. You could take that table and I’ll take this one?” Your own words surprise you as you’re speaking them. Moments ago you had been dreading crossing paths with him again, but now that you’re having a moment that feels comfortable, you find yourself wanting him to stick around longer.

A curiosity is growing in your mind, wondering if Harry is feeling the same way, if that’s why he offered to help, if that’s why he slowly joins you in the room and mirrors your position at the table behind you so you’re not standing back to back.

You both search through the crates without a word, only the faint sound of the music from the front room coming down the hallway. Meanwhile, your thoughts are going back and forth between Jenny insisting that this man likes you and talking yourself out of that idea, insisting that he’s simply being nice, doing his job.

“How have you been?”

The question catches you off guard, taking a moment to realize that he’s actually said it out loud. “Um. I’ve been good. Nothing exciting going on, just working a lot. You?”

“I’m alright, thanks. I’ve been working a lot too. Where do you work? Don’t think I’ve asked you.”

“Do you ever listen to KIIS-FM?”

“Yes?” He responds, possibly thinking that you’re trying to shift the subject.

You smile to yourself, “You’re welcome. I’m a sound engineer there.”

“Oh shit,” he says enthusiastically. “That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

Briefly turning to look at him, your smile grows wider when you read the interest and excitement on his face. An expression you’re seeing for the first time in him, and it's because of something about you. Your heart flutters and you turn back to your table.

“Most days, I do. It can be a real dick fest sometimes though. Not in a good way.”

Despite mumbling the last sentence, Harry seems to still pick it up.

He barks out a laugh. You turn, eyes wide, to see his shoulders shaking and him covering his mouth with his hand.

When he turns back to you, clearly making a lot of effort to compose himself, he places his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh yeah, the way you laughed really convinced me,” you lightheartedly roll your eyes.

“No it’s just… the way you said it was really funny,” he says, chuckling through his words. He continues, “So you studied engineering at UCLA then?”

Your eyebrows crease as his words hang in the air. You guess it’s not wild to assume that people who live in L.A. have attended UCLA. However, since you’ve never mentioned any kind of schooling to Harry, you can only gather that he’s making that assumption from the UCLA t-shirt you were wearing when he showed up at your house.

“I thought I remembered Jenny mentioning that you both went there.” His tone is cautious now, hesitant even. Like he’s picked up on his own blunder.

You decide to brush over it and simply nod, “Yeah, that’s how we met, actually.”

You return to looking through the crate in front of you. You gasp when you see the familiar red cover of the album you’re looking for.

You feel Harry turn around behind you. “Find it?”

You pull it from the crate. The bold red cover with a blue-grey circle in the middle, running your finger over the lines and arrows creating rings around it with a few stars placed here and there. You turn to smile at Harry, holding up the record in place of an answer, too excited to form words. The paper dust liner crinkles as you slide the plastic disc from the sleeve. Holding it by the edges, you tilt it to the left, to the right, and hold it up closer to the light to inspect it. Your shoulders visibly fall when you spot a long scratch running from the middle to the edge.

“Oh no,” you whisper, bringing the record closer to your face. You lightly run your finger over the scratch. It doesn’t feel rough, you actually can’t feel it at all. A fraction of hope is restored knowing that the scratch isn’t too deep into the grooves. However, there’s no way to know if it’s unplayable unless you actually try to play it.

Harry seems to read your mind. “You could test it out on the player up front if you want.”

“Really?” You spin around, seeming to shock him judging by the way his upper body slightly jerks back. “I mean-- I would appreciate that. If it’s not too much--”

He shakes his head, “It’s not a problem.” He walks toward the door where he waits for you to gather everything up.

The front of the store quiet once you both emerge from the other side of the curtain.

“I liked your choice of work music, by the way,” you say once you’ve both made it back to the counter, hugging your record to your chest.

“Oh yeah, Maggot Brain. S’ a fun album.”

You lean forward to rest your forearms against the smooth wood of the counter, waiting while he takes the record off the player to make room for yours. “Do you listen to a lot of funk music?”

“I do. I’ve never really understood why some people aren’t into it. What’s not to love, right?”

“Exactly! My coworker showed me this album and I think it’s one of my favorites now. It was recorded by this group of high school students in seventy two. They won some studio time in a contest or something and they really made the most of it.”

“Hm. M’ excited to listen to it now.” He stretches his hand out, “I’ll take that.”

You hand over the album. “Could you start it on track two? I think that’s my favorite one.”

“Sure.” He places the record on the player and carefully moves the needle in place.

A warm feeling washes over you when you hear the familiar soft guitar and drum beat at the beginning of the song. You both stand in place as the bass line comes in and all of the instruments’ parts crescendo.

Once the beat drops and the main guitar comes in, Harry turns to you with raised eyebrows and an impressed smile.

“Amazing, right?” you ask through a chuckle.

“It’s really good.”

“I know! And I don’t notice the scratch at all. It sounds perfect.”

“S’ exciting. I’m glad you found it.”

He walks over to where you are and starts to inspect the sleeve, turning it over to read the back. He adopts a similar position as you, forearms resting on the counter as he taps his fingers on his bicep to the beat of the song.

“That guitar part is amazing.”

He’s leaning close enough now that you can see a hint of stubble along his jawline and his upper lip. His cologne, a swirl of vanilla and something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks up when you don’t respond and you avert your eyes immediately.

“I think so too,” you mumble.

“I find it crazy how something really amazing can be right in front of you for so long and you never notice it or you just keep missing it.” A pause. “This has been in the back room for… I don’t even know how long, and I probably never would have listened to it if you hadn’t been looking for it.” Another brief pause as he scratches at his chin, seeming to be in deep thought. He shakes his head, “I don’t know. Maybe that’s weird, but I think about that kind of thing a lot.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. That can happen with… so many things, too.”

“Like people.”

His eyes quickly dance over your face. You swear they linger on your lips for a second  before returning to meet your eyes.

“Like people,” you repeat. “And I think it is good to think about that stuff from time to time but… it can get overwhelming. Sometimes it could even distract you from the things you’re enjoying now.”

Your eyes do the same motions, glancing all over his face, lingering on his lips, and then back to his eyes. This feels extremely reminiscent of the night you were sitting outside of the Forum, when you were practically nose to nose after you had taken a whiff of his hair. You had been telling yourself that the gravitational pull you felt that night was solely induced by the shrooms. However, you seem to be feeling it again now as your eyes trace over the plane of his cheek, the tip of his nose, the arch of his lip.

A slight crease between his eyebrows slightly contradicts the almost tender look in his eyes. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak.

Unfortunately he’s interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone on the wall behind him.

You flinch at the sudden noise and Harry huffs in annoyance before clearing his throat into his fist.

He walks over to the player to turn the music down before answering the phone with a simple, clipped “Jupiter House.”

He covers the receiver with his hand and mouths ‘sorry’ to you before holding up a finger and going into the back room, closing the door until it's just cracked behind him.

You release a heavy sigh and rub your temples.

After a short conversation, Harry comes back and hangs up the phone.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles, untangling the cord from his fingers. “Are you happy with this, then?” He asks, pointing to the record player.

“Uh- yes. Yes. I am.”

You go through the transaction in silence, watching the way Harry slides your record into a brown paper bag and the way he makes your change. At this moment, you’re wishing Harry came with a cartoon thought bubble over his head so you could know what he’s thinking right now. What exactly did he mean when he said ‘like people’? What was he about to say before he was interrupted?

He carefully folds and creases the paper, but instead of handing it over, he pauses, hands poised on the top of the bag.

“Sorry, I forgot something.” He opens the bag again and crouches down behind the counter.

“What--”

Before you can get your question out, his hand reaches into the glass case between you, hovering over the merchandise that you noticed when you first walked in. He picks out a button and a sticker. You hear them drop into the bag before he pops up from behind the counter.

“You didn’t have to--”

“I know.”

His smile and his voice are reassuring, absolving your confusion in a matter of seconds. 

“Thanks for your help. It was nice running into you,” you smile, taking the bag and holding the record to your chest once again.

“Take care. I’ll see you around.” He smiles.

You back away from the counter and push open the door. The bell rings in your ears one last time.

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

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